He didn’t trust Aisha, that witch who had been keeping an eye on him. She had helped him escape, of course. But… Leos sensed that Aisha was pursuing her own ends. And he didn’t particularly like those ends.

  Encountering the Shadow Lord had almost cost him his life. That monster had possessed unimaginable power! For the first time in a long time, Leos had felt real fear in its presence. A primal, animal terror that had totally paralyzed him.

  Even if you’re one of their most trusted allies, Shadows like that couldn’t give a damn. They’re beings from another dimension. Their motives, aims, and methods are beyond human understanding.

  “That bitch…” he hissed, rubbing his neck, which had not so long ago been in the grasp of that monster’s icy tentacles. “Any longer, and I would have been that thing’s breakfast…”

  The Shadow Plane was a force to be reckoned with. However, Leos had always considered himself first among equals. But that creature… It hadn’t even deigned to explain what he had done wrong. It had just… put him in his place.

  The worst thing was that Leos had ceased to be useful to them. He had been tasked with working in Liechtenstein to destabilize the situation and sow chaos. But now, he had been forced to flee. And that meant he was spent goods. A pawn who might be sacrificed at any moment.

  “I’m screwed,” Leos muttered as he stared in desperation at his wound, which continued to bleed despite his best efforts.

  He needed to do something. He had to get back into the principality as soon as possible. Otherwise, his life would be cut short. And not by the Babylonian or his golems. He would be eliminated by those whom he had so recently served.

  But what could he achieve alone? Without associates, resources, or support.

  “I do have one idea,” he said with a cold smile, clenching his fists. “It’s a risky one, of course, but I have no other option…”

  Leos knew that to get back into the game, he would need power. Lots of it. And he was willing to go to any lengths to acquire it. If necessary, he would absorb even more Shadow energy. He was willing to do so. Granted, it would be a dangerous undertaking. If a regular person did so, they would simply burn up until they were a lump of coal, but Leos hadn’t been a regular person for a long time. He had Shadow energy running through his veins like fiery lava. It burned him from within, but at the same time, it gave him power. He knew his body’s limits… Although he may already have exceeded them.

  But power comes at a cost. You always have to pay for it. And the price… Well, let’s just say, for Leos, it wasn’t that high. Just a few dozen lives.

  Leos’s mouth formed a crooked smile. He staggered out of the abandoned mine and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

  Down below, nestled in the mountain foothills, was a small village. The houses were neat and clean, with warm lights flickering in the windows and smoke billowing from the chimneys. A picture worthy of a Christmas card.

  “Bingo,” Leos said at length, licking his parched lips.

  It was the perfect place for his plan. A remote, godforsaken village far from prying eyes and devoid of any guards. He very much doubted that there was a single person in the place capable of wielding a weapon.

  “Well, my children… Looks like today’s your lucky day,” Leos muttered, starting to walk down toward the village.

  The Shadow energy within him began to vibrate as it responded to his intention. It could sense the impending harvest. And it liked it.

  * * *

  Having put aside the bag of treats Ana had left for me before she went out, I stretched and flexed my back, which had grown stiff.

  The fifty golems neatly lined up in front of me reminded me of patients in the queue to see the doctor — each awaiting its turn to receive the latest tweaks.

  A dozen of them, all gleaming with the blueish luster of Shadow metal, were designed for special operations in the city’s underground utility network. The rest were generic fighters, ready for any skirmish.

  My golem workers were scurrying to and fro amongst them, wielding their various tools and instruments in a businesslike manner. To one of the golems, they were attaching an arm; another was having its armor touched up; and a third was having its “eyes” installed.

  The Shadow crystal fragments that we’d gathered up following our battle with the Shadows were a decent source of energy. However, they weren’t powerful enough for my purposes. I had therefore developed a new method for connecting them to larger, more powerful crystals. Three fragments formed one regular crystal, capable of providing my golems not only with power, but also with all the abilities they needed, including the ability to move through the shadows.

  Working with Shadow energy is no easy task, however. It affects not only one’s physical body, but also one’s soul and magical source. Every time I gripped one of the fragments, I could feel a cold, draining darkness trying to penetrate into me like poisonous mist. My thinking became foggy. Dark, gloomy images appeared in my mind, and my heart began beating faster.

  “It’s a good thing my soul is like a steel safe and my source is like a nuclear reactor. I can afford to mess around with this crap,” I chuckled to myself, as I fused another three fragments into a single crystal.

  Forming a crystal in that manner was rather a crude business. The most important thing was to ensure that it was safe. To prevent the crystals from exploding like a grenade when the golem was defeated, destroying everything in the vicinity and harming people in the process, I carefully sealed them in special containers so they would instead remain there, waiting for me. After all, Shadow energy is an unpredictable thing. If it isn’t controlled, it can cause significant harm.

  Having finished working on the golems, I quickly headed upstairs, where Boris was waiting for me behind the wheel of the Scarab.

  “Well, boss,” he said, starting the engine, “where are we off to?”

  “To the town square,” I replied. “Today, we’re going to make history.”

  We left the store and headed for the city center.

  Night had enveloped Vaduz in black velvet, concealing what we were up to from prying eyes. There on the main square, which had been cordoned off by my guardsmen, work was already in full flow. Dozens of trucks loaded with construction materials were scurrying to and fro. Our diggers roared as they plunged their buckets into the ground. The cranes creaked as they raised huge concrete blocks into the air. All this commotion created the illusion that some big construction project was underway, thus hiding what I was really up to from curious onlookers.

  For several days, the news had been reporting that something spectacular was in the offing on the main square. People had been advised not to leave their homes unless absolutely necessary and informed that the work was in the public interest. Interestingly, no one had complained or started screaming that their rights were being violated. Everyone understood the complexity of the situation and trusted that the new temporary prince was acting in their interests.

  I got out of the car, activated my Gift, and got down to work. The ground in front of me came to life and rose into the air. It began to bend and arch as it transformed. First, the foundations appeared, strong and impenetrable. Then the walls quickly grew upwards.

  The tower I was building wasn’t just going to be any old building, but a symbol of the new Liechtenstein. A symbol of strength, independence, and hope. I was building it to last for centuries, imbuing every inch not only with my energy, but with a part of my very soul. Even if this whole world came crumbling down, my tower would still remain as a monument to the fact that an Architect had once lived here.

  While I worked, my crew didn’t just stand idly by. As well as the first part of my plan — to hide the true power of my magic — there was a second part too. My workers installed elevators and utilities and fitted the tower out with everything it needed.

  A few hours later, the structure was finished. It was virtually indestructible. The walls, which I’d made from a multi-layered composite of stone, metal, and magic, were capable of withstanding any attack that came their way.

  I dropped to the ground, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over me. Working on the tower had taken a lot of power out of me. However, the most important part still lay ahead.

  “Time to finish what we started,” I thought, walking over to the Scarab and taking out a huge Shadow crystal.

  The latter had been left over following our epic battle against the Shadow Dreadnaught. It glowed with a bright purple hue. I’d “patched it up” using hundreds of smaller fragments. I couldn’t let something that good go to waste!

  It contained enough energy to wipe a whole city — or maybe several cities — from the face of the earth, open dozens of portals into the Shadow realm, or create an army of undead… However, I wasn’t planning on using it for destructive purposes. I had chosen life, not death. I’d decided to use the crystal for another, more important purpose — protecting Liechtenstein, my new homeland.

  In the center of the building, inside a specially designed hall, I’d installed a huge stone structure that looked like an altar. It was the heart of the tower — its energy hub. I carefully lowered the crystal into a special slot in the middle of the altar. The stone began to pulse as if alive, radiating a dark energy that spread throughout the entire building.

  Then, placing my hand on the floor, I began summoning the elements. I needed their power in order to transform the Shadow energy and create something new.

  “Fire, Water, Earth, and Air…” I began. “Accept my gift. Take whatever you need. And in return… Leave me some of your power.”

  All four of the fundamental elements heeded my call. I offered them a deal: they would take some of the Shadow energy for themselves (it is, after all, an incredibly valuable resource for them), and in return, they would leave me part of their elemental essence.

  The first to show up was Fire — a bright vortex of flame that took the form of a mighty phoenix. It circled above the crystal and eagerly devoured part of its Shadow energy. Sparkling trails of living fire were left behind where its wings had swept through the air.

  Next came Water — a sea maiden formed from turquoise mist. She flowed around the crystal in fluid waves, gleaning some of the Shadow energy from it as she went and leaving the pure power of the ocean depths behind.

  Earth appeared in the form of a stone golem. With weighty steps, it approached the crystal and imbibed some of its dark power, leaving behind some of its own power in exchange.

  Last to appear was Air, which whirled around the hall in a tornado. It took the remaining Shadow energy and then dissipated.

  The whole “exchange” took about an hour. Each element absorbed its share of the energy and left some of its own power and essence behind in the crystal. Finally, the process was complete. The Shadow crystal, having been transformed by the magic of the elements, had turned into an Orb of Balance — an artifact, the likes of which this world had never seen. Inside it, as if in their own little universe, swirled the power of all four elements.

  Next, I tuned the Orb, synchronizing it with the building’s energy field, before heading down to see my crew. My body was aching as if I’d just run a marathon with a sack of bricks on my back. But I was happy.

  “It’s ready!” I said to Boris. “I just need to rest a bit now. And then… Then, I’ll address the people. I need to give them hope and show them that all is not lost. That Liechtenstein has power and the right to exist.”

  * * *

  Top-secret warehouse #108

  Somewhere in the Alps in Swiss territory

  The operation carried out by Dmitry Makarov, the experienced saboteur, didn’t go according to plan, to put it mildly. Instead of taking a gentle “stroll” over to a secret warehouse to “borrow” some state-of-the-art weapons, he’d gotten himself into such a scrape that even his nerves of steel, hardened by years of service, faltered.

  The plan had been as easy as pie: he was to infiltrate the warehouse under the guise of a repair worker, deactivate the alarms, swipe a few crates of the latest Swiss guns, and then escape unnoticed. But no such luck!

  It all began with Makarov discovering that the intel he was relying on was out of date: warehouse number 108, nestled deep within the Alpine peaks, turned out not to be just a well-protected bunker, but an absolute fortress.

  Inside the warehouse, Makarov had discovered a whole hive of Swiss commandos equipped with cutting-edge gear. They had an arsenal the likes of which his own guard regiment could only dream of!

  “What have I gotten myself into…” Dmitry thought, struggling to stifle the desire to just turn around and make a run for it.

  But it was too late for that. He had already been spotted. And it seemed like the Swiss were in no mood to play hide and seek. They opened fire, seeking to kill him without asking any questions. Bullets whistled through the air and ricocheted off the walls.

  Makarov had to improvise. He dove behind the nearest crate, marked “Experimental grenades. Do not shake!” Bullets whistled past above his head like angry hornets as he crouched down and groped around in the pockets of his repair worker’s jumpsuit. There among the screwdrivers and wrenches lurked his trusty old Makarov — not a relation of his, of course, but a pistol by the same name — along with a couple of homemade surprises that he always carried with him, just in case.

  “Alright, boys, let’s dance,” he muttered to himself, drawing his gun.

  The first thing Dmitry did was fire a couple of shots at the searchlight that was insolently shining in his face. Darkness is a saboteur’s best friend, but the Swiss had forgotten that fact, it seemed. The light shattered with a bang, and the warehouse was plunged into darkness, illuminated only occasionally by the flashes of gunfire. The commandos, evidently not having expected such audacity, hesitated for a moment, and Makarov took advantage of their dithering.

  He darted behind the next piece of cover — a large container with the words “Prototype. Do not open.” written on it. While he was running, he pulled the pin out of one of his little homemade devices — a smoke grenade with a little “peppery” kick — and hurled it among the Swiss soldiers. A second later, there was a bang, and the air filled with acrid smoke. Some of the commandos started coughing, while others cursed in impeccable French. Even without a translation, however, Makarov could tell they weren’t wishing him well.

  He crouched down and made his way along the side of the container, trying not to breathe too deeply, as the peppery “aroma” had already begun to sting his own eyes too. There was just one question whirring in his head: “Why the hell are there so many of them here?” However, he had no time for further deliberation, as he heard the pounding of boots and the metallic clink of rifle bolts coming from behind him.

  He quickly assessed the situation. For the time being, the smoke gave him an advantage, but the Swiss clearly weren’t going to just stand there, swearing and coughing away. They had already begun to regroup, and Makarov could see glimpses of their black silhouettes, rifles at the ready, through the smokescreen.

  Having grabbed one of the “experimental grenades” from the crate, he glanced briefly at the instructions written on the side: “Thrown and run.” Brief and to the point. He pulled out the pin, waited a couple of seconds, then threw the grenade toward the nearest group of commandos.

  It landed with a dull thud and then exploded with such vehemence that the walls of the warehouse shook. The explosion wasn’t just loud — it also kicked up some kind of bright green dust into the air, causing the Swiss soldiers to immediately begin sneezing and rubbing their eyes.

  “Are they biochemical grenades or something?” Makarov grunted. However, he wasn’t going to wait around to check, so he carried on running.

  His gun had already overheated — he had been firing in short bursts, more as a form of distraction than in an attempt to actually wound the Swiss. He was running out of ammo, while the Swiss appeared to have stocked up on a whole year’s worth. One of the commandos jumped out from behind a corner and aimed some kind of futuristic assault rifle at him, but Makarov reacted quicker — he shot the commando in the knee, causing him to collapse onto the floor with a howl and drop his weapon.

  “Sorry, bro, nothing personal,” Dmitry remarked as he quickly grabbed hold of the gun.

  The assault rifle turned out to be as light as a feather and equipped with a laser sight. It was no children’s toy. With his new “companion” in hand, Makarov felt more confident. He took aim through the smoke and fired a short burst into a group of Swiss troops who were trying to outflank him. They dove behind cover, but he had already rolled over to the next crate, tossing another smoke grenade as he did so.

  Meanwhile, against a sonic backdrop of explosions and the whistling of bullets, he gave the Swiss guards a masterclass in how to survive in limited space, as his little helpers — Theodore’s spider golems — went about their business.

  Those nimble little creatures scurried around the warehouse like black lightning, grabbing anything valuable they could lay their hands on — crates of ammo, containers with artifacts in them, and even whole pallets of guns. Each spider had been programmed to seek out and transport a specific type of goods. The whole operation had all been thought through right down to the last detail.

  If a container was too big, the golems joined together like transformers to form one large spider capable of carrying several times its own bodyweight. Makarov had seen this before, of course, when Theodore had demonstrated the golems to him, but nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be amazed at how synchronized they were.

  All of the “borrowed” goods were taken to a previously agreed-upon location — a small canyon in the mountains, where trucks were already waiting to take away the spoils. The route was simple but secure. It took the trucks through the network of sewage tunnels that Theodore had captured following his most recent skirmishes on the border.

  Makarov, meanwhile, continues to put up a fight. He made the most of all the advantages the location offered him — he hid behind crates, fired out from behind cover, and distracted his foes using diversionary maneuvers. However, he was running out of energy.