Soaring through Ojin in tight formation proved dangerous. Once leaving Token’s portal pocket, the pressure of being found out faded, only to be replaced by miles of thick fog on either side of Alan. Over the months, he was only able to clear small sections with his patrols. And now that he flew through them, it felt like he’d only shoveled a small path amid a blizzard. To his right, beige fog might as well have been a sandstorm, and to his left, purple mist was plagued with bolts of dark lightning. Although he couldn’t feel the vibrations of a marching army at these heights, he knew they were there.

  Hutten Fie was six days out, and all of Token’s experienced scouts were right next to him, leaving the realm essentially naked. Thinking about the small town he’d constructed, Neesha’s unforgiving dismay, Trish’s determination to get back with him, it was all bittersweet. The markings of a home.

  He’d never felt such responsibility in his life, but he was here for it.

  “Straight line formation!” Elkire held up his spear.

  Like clockwork, the gryphons adjusted their wings to fly seamlessly behind one another as they approached the first uncleared patch in their path. Thick orange, which by all accounts should be a cinch for Alan since it was a tier-two Title zone, but in war? He wasn’t so sure.

  “Maintain altitude!” Elkire pointed his spear forward—flag flapping violently in the incoming winds.

  The fog was uncomfortably hot as it engulfed them, so Alan tossed a blanket of White Saro in front of Elkire, which he held as a filter to the fog.

  Hot magma blew into the air—whips of molten liquid threatening to burn them.

  “Lean right! On my tail!” Elkire commanded.

  Alan’s whole view shifted as Ara flew nearly sideways. He flung shards of White Saro while activating instinctive Red, catching stray globs of lava with precision. In an instant, an entire string of volcanic aftermath froze in place midair, cracking as it melted. His Red never felt so accurate. It must’ve been the War Title, or maybe since losing his access to Green and Yellow his other colors had amplified. He likened it to losing one of his senses and having the others overcompensate.

  Though he was scared of what he was becoming, he had to embrace it… for his people.

  Clairvoyant Blue sent a wave over his mind, telling him of some unseen threat. “Chasers! We have company!”

  Fshew!

  A Yellow-infused spear flew just past Tenger and another Chaser. Although it missed, they both got zapped with the convulsing electricity attached to the spear.

  “Hold!” Tenger pet his gryphon, then looked behind him. “Good?”

  “Good!” The other zapped Chaser held a thumbs up as his gryphon shook off the attack.

  “Red Pact?” another asked.

  “We’re assuming every enemy is Red Pact,” Alan seethed, taking a page from Foretta’s book by reaching for his bow, tying one of Ara’s straps around his leg and sliding down his gryphon to hang upside down.

  Alan shut his eyes and conjured an arrow of pure Orange Saro, sensing the enemies through the thick fog. “Die, scum.” He loosed it, activating Split-arrow Rain. The arrow ripped into a blanket of one hundred fiery points. What was better, the depletion of Orange just caused a stream of more fiery hot energy rushing in to take its place.

  Fshew!

  Fshew!

  He unloaded hundreds of arrows through three shots and relished in the cries of hit marks. Spears rushed up to counter, but Alan created a warping galaxy shield of Purple Saro beneath the gryphon formation which consumed the weapons like a trash compactor and spat them back out as splintered wood and Saro-less metal.

  Doing a quick sit-up, he grasped the leather strap holding him by the ankle and pulled himself into an ostentatious flip back onto his mount.

  “Clear,” he said.

  The Fate Chasers in front and behind all gaped at him, likely reminded of the power that helped win the battle of Strangey Town.

  “Alan the Great, huh?” Tenger admitted, shaking his head. “That was incredible, bruh.”

  Elkire lifted his spear. “Our leader shines!”

  “Hoo!” the other chasers cheered.

  Alan let the praise wash over him, empowering his darker Saro. “We’re going to win this war,” he shouted. “Hutten Fie is the key! Convince this god to our side, and we’ll have a full army to defend with.”

  I’m the god broker, he told himself. I can do this. I can beat Jaeger.

  As the first dawn approached, one of the Healers flung Green Saro over the group, restoring their energy and allowing for a strong second wind. They practiced formation adjustments through the light-gray fog. Strong arrow. Alternating diamond. Cloud form. Alan hoped it would be enough to win the god’s attention. Figro gave him as many pointers as he could, but recognizing the pain and dishonor old memories brought him, Alan didn’t want to pry.

  Day three proved uneventful, giving Alan time for his mind to drift. Not having hundreds of prompts to scroll through allowed for some reflection. Had he been too hard on Trish since reuniting? Holding to his boundaries seemed like the right path… but she was putting in a ton of effort to win him back… Even if it was because she was attracted to the success. Or maybe worse—he was just a taste of home. Were these things to hold against her indefinitely?

  Yes, they are, he told himself. Her companionship is conditional at best, borderline shallow. Forget her. His defenses remained high. If he was being honest, his heart beat for Neesha. Even with all the angry energy and the confusion on how much of that Saro bond she and Gregorian shared was really up to fate… he still cared for her. She represented his new life. A connection unexplored.

  Afarus took it upon himself to form out of Alan’s Soul Collector, materializing almost in full, cross-legged on Ara’s neck. His forearm wraps snapped in the wind. “You’ve taken on much in a short time, Alan. More than even I.”

  “Yeah, well. I didn’t have much choice.” Alan shrugged.

  “Hm. I suppose that’s true in the grand scheme. However, those clouds hanging over your head are clear and present.”

  “Trish,” Alan agreed.

  “Indeed. She may inadvertently be acting as a parasitic Saro conduit.”

  “Is that why I can’t summon Green or Yellow?”

  Afarus shook his head. “None can say for sure, but it is well documented that Saro is known to become unstable upon reconnecting with past bonds.”

  “What did your relationship do?” Alan asked.

  “Strengthened my connection. Through our reunion and her death thereafter, power increased through different colors but never did I lose. Only in here.” He pointed to his heart.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, however far back that may have been.” Alan bowed.

  “She is bright in my mind’s eye. I know I will see her again. We are destined to be together, life after life. Our struggles only make us stronger.” He clenched a strong fist.

  “Where does that leave me? I feel like half my heart’s been ripped out and tossed to the wind…”

  “Unknown. You must dig deep to figure out what your purpose is with her… before anyone else perishes on your watch.” Afarus clenched his jaw, giving him a knowing look.

  “Thanks for the added guilt.”

  “Heavy is the crown, my apprentice.” Afarus faded away and was replaced by a half-summoned Durger. He looked like a genie holding up his pet.

  “Don’t take that Bladesman’s coldness to heart, Sir Alan.” Durger smiled. “You’ve saved thousands on your watch.”

  “Somehow it doesn’t feel like enough, friend.” Alan bashfully gazed up to Durger.

  “Do not let the burdens of war consume you. Do your part as best you can and let it cleanse your soul.” Durger dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “And whatever happens, do not lose what makes you great.”

  His soul syphoned back into Alan’s blade.

  “We are with you, Alan. Always,” Durger’s last whisper echoed through both ears.

  The next days were full of stealth flying to avoid the eye of nasty-looking patrols and low-altitude glides to duck under the Virath snakes curling through the air. A part of Alan wanted to choke one out of the sky and decorate the Chasers with whatever loot would pop out, but he had to keep his head on the mission. Token was counting on them.

  The crew was one day ahead of schedule thanks to no rest stops. The Healer was exhausted—and Alan wished dearly that he could help—but hopefully they could take a break now that they’d made it. Hutten Fie’s portal pocket.

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  The gryphons took their first landing atop a mountain just out of reach of Fie’s patrol. The valley below was vast. A stretch of flatland outlined by a brook of intricate design, and beyond it a mountain covered by cloud rings. Hutten’s armies were a force to contend with. Literal squares of warriors alternated rank patterns like a marching band. Bright yellow straps tempered by reds and oranges made them seem anything but shy. Alan estimated five thousand strong in sixteen different patrols. And that wasn’t even counting those marching around the mountain path opposite them.

  Alan wondered what kind of Deenom guarded a realm like this. Perhaps a rock-type minion. Or some unholy storm minion. Either way, if Alan could win them over… he was certain he could contend.

  “Alright, Logden, how long do you need to recoup?” Alan asked the Healer, taking a seat amongst the group.

  “I am ready whenever you are.” Logden tried to straighten but hunched from exhaustion.

  “Hah ha!” Elkire patted Logden’s shoulder. “You are too zealous, my friend. Consume essence, take your moment. Feel no guilt or anxiety either, for the gryphons need their rest too. Especially if we have a performance ahead of us.” He paced over to Alan. “And you, leader.” He bent to be eye level with him. “Token will survive in our absence. You left it in good hands. Madam Mar has been Brack’s eyes since I spawned in this universe. She will take great care.”

  “Thanks, Elk.” Alan released some of the tension in his temples.

  “You must stay focused, lest more spears come hurling into the sky.” Elkire peered over the mountain. “For there are a great many that will point our way.”

  “We have to hope that sad golem of yours has current information, I think. Yeah?” Tenger unfurled his whip and grasped it high overhead to stretch his back. “We’ll be fried by those unity groups in a jiff if we don’t communicate the appropriate formations to be recognized as allies. Our gryphons have to fly into a shrinking circular formation and then expand outward? Seems wildly inefficient.”

  “It’s also a difficult one.” Elkire arced his brow. “This realm strikes me as one that’d rather keep enemies out than keep their allies alive.”

  “Not so good for our future,” Alan huffed.

  “Oh, but it is, good Alan. That only means they’re fit for war.”

  They all pulled spice, bread, and essence for a quick bite, sharing close calls on the marathon to get to this point. Alan worried of the Red Pact’s growth, which pumped up the others to win Hutten Fie over.

  Elkire extended his arm for Alan to grab on. “I think Logden has had his moment.” They nodded toward one another.

  “Are you sure about this, Elkire? There’s a risk we get executed on the spot, or worse, held for eternity in a prison,” Alan warned. “I feel I’ve caused the Legion of Fate enough grief.”

  “Nonsense. I knew the risk when I abandoned Brack, Alan. We all did. Ain’t that right, Chasers?”

  “Hoo!”

  “We fight for much more than our pride. Legends say our universe is the center of all life.”

  “I might have to call you Aristotle.” Alan chuckled to himself.

  “Hah, that’s a good one!” one of the other Earth Origin Chasers said.

  “I do not understand.” Elkire spread his big arms. “My brethren, who is this Aristotle?”

  “A smarty who believed everything centered around Earth,” the Chaser said.

  “Ah! Well then I am honored to be likened to such a man. Though he may have been misguided, there is grandeur in his belief. Say we are the actual center? Then if our universe falls to the wicked, their ways will echo to all of our Origin Worlds and everything the Legion of Fate holds dear.”

  “Wise words and sound logic,” Alan agreed. “Let’s make sure nothing of the sort ever happens.”

  The smell of new essence wafted high into the air; like freshly cut grass. But that had new meaning since war began. It meant death. Hutten Fie’s forces may have already culled refugees running from Jaeger’s grasp, or others looking to make allies.

  Alan’s throat closed a bit at the thought.

  “Fate Chasers. I surrender my lead to Alan. He is the one to commune with Orevella, so he must spearhead this mission.”

  “Hoo!” They nodded with fervor, careful not to make noise enough to echo down the mountain.

  Alan stepped up to the tip of the cliff, analyzing the interlocking soldiers marching about. Their formation changes were so robotic it was intimidating. And the faint colors emanating from each square confirmed what Figro had warned of—unity groups. Their Saro levels must be off the charts with those kinds of numbers.

  “Legion. In the name of all that you chase, let’s give ourselves to fate this day.” Alan drew his blade and pulled himself atop Ara. “We’ll have to keep great height to avoid artillery. That won’t stop the Wizards from hurling their spells though.” Alan pointed. “Pink has the slowest moving projectiles—”

  “But the most disorienting.” Tenger pursed his lips.

  “We’re best equipped against lightning,” Elkire said. “Let us defend you, Alan. Conserve your energy in case we must stand against a goddess.”

  “Alright,” Alan agreed, timing the rotation of the Yellow unity group. “To our future allies.” As he took the sky, he realized how odd it was that this portal pocket didn’t contain Ojin fog. Were they that confident in their abilities? To patrol in plain sight?

  Whoosh!

  Ara soared down on Alan’s command, followed by the kaws of an entire gryphon platoon at his back. He’d practiced leading before on a few occasions, and although he was nowhere near the confidence and speed of Elkire, it’d have to do.

  The closer he got to the formations, the more menacing they became. Low chanting signaled their rotations, and lightning bolts the size of trees sparked over the Yellow unity group. They’d be fried beyond recognition if they got too close.

  A low, bone-chilling horn sounded from the mountainside, causing rotations to reverse.

  Shit.

  Ara cut left to follow Yellow, causing a few curses at his back.

  “Stay the course!” Alan yelled over his shoulder. Noticing the Wizards far below holding up their staffs, Alan swung up his blade to signal the Fate Chasers.

  “Here we go, Ara,” he whispered to his gryphon, cutting right hard to begin the shrinking circle formation. It was dizzying immediately, especially when trying to determine whether bolts of lightning were about to strike from below.

  He kept his blade high as the circle of gryphons shrunk and shrunk. The soldiers’ chanting ceased, the charging bolts petering out.

  Keep going.

  “Switch!” Alan waved his blade, causing Ara to dip on cue and start the expanding circle one row below. He spun hard with each Chaser following methodically close at his back.

  “Halt!” a magically amplified voice bellowed from below. “Show your Titles and affiliations immediately or be blasted out of the sky!”

  Alan said a silent prayer to himself in hopes that Figro was right—that his old realm would never bend to the Red Pact. He pointed his sword straight up, causing Ara and the others to abruptly stop. Peering down to the unity group was terrifying. Thousands of soldiers now had stationary targets.

  Alan Right

  Title*: Bounty Hunter of the Royal Horde

  Realm: Token

  Alliance: Unlikely Guds

  Alan displayed his bare-bones information overhead, hoping it’d be enough to sate the patrol. The Fate Chasers followed suit.

  “We have never seen your name or your alliance, yet you fly in rotations of a non-threat. Who is your connection to Hutten Fie?”

  “A friend with no name!” Alan called.

  “Convenient,” the voice echoed from the mountain. “We do not invite Trojan horses into our sacred confines. Even if you speak the patterns of our people.”

  “What about a messenger?” Alan called back.

  “They do not normally fly in flocks,” the voice grew annoyed.

  “In times like these, I’d imagine it impossible not to.”

  “We grow suspicious of your intention, scouts. What is your position with regard to the Red Pact?”

  “Enemy!” Alan shouted, then tapped his throat with a pulse of Saro. “We are against the notion of realm conquering. The Red Pact is our enemy!”

  The tension amongst the gryphons mounted. They fidgeted to echo their riders’ angst. The pause between responses wasn’t helping either. It was awkward and chilling.

  “Why have you traveled to our pocket? What do you seek?” the voice finally resounded.

  If I admit to seeking alliance, they would turn us away in a heartbeat. According to everything Figro told me, this realm prides itself on needing no one. There’s only one way in.

  “In the interest of preserving realm autonomy, we come bearing information on the Red Pact. We seek words with your god, Orevella, in hopes to come to a healthy exchange. Then we will be gone and your soldiers would be all the wiser.”

  Chatter broke out amidst the soldiers. Alan hoped that was a good thing. Then again, the pause was haunting. At any moment, the unity groups could kick-start their shared Saro and wipe them out.

  Zzzzt!

  Electricity sparked amid the group directly below them.

  “As stated, we are not familiar with your affiliation. And we do not accept outside assistance.”

  Zzzzt!

  Alan tensed, considering activating Purple Saro enough to give the Fate Chasers a window out of harm’s way.

  “However!” the voice boomed. “The beginnings of this war have indeed yielded great concern for Hutten Fie. The Red Pact proves dangerous. We will hear you.”

  A collective sigh resounded behind Alan.

  Elkire flapped up beside Alan. “Excellent intuition, Alan.”

  “I fear this is only the beginning,” Alan said.

  “Descend slowly beside the Yellow and White groups. I will escort you in personally,” the voice boomed.

  Alan did what he was told, waving his sword for the gryphons to descend in a “V” formation. The closer they got to the ground, the more fearsome the Hutten soldiers appeared. Knights of all sizes echoed one thing—muscular strength. And their protected Wizards held Saro-specific staffs that Alan blinked into trances to understand their origins. All top-tier fog raids.

  Every weapon he analyzed showed a reel of orderly minion destruction, chasing specific Saro-focused loot. Once found, they’d assign the winner of the loot to a unity group. If not for the Red Pact, Alan imagined Hutten Fie would thrive on the new universe war rules. Farming minions and holding Ojin ground should be their bread and butter. But alas, they were outnumbered—proven by their journey here. The Red Pact was everywhere.

  They touched down to lightning sparks on their left and icy snaps to their right. Threatening pupil-less eyes pulsed with unity Saro on either side of them. Alan dismounted and bowed to both sides, doing his best to disarm a fearsome army.

  A pulse of visible air shot out of the mountain, where a tiny black hole appeared.

  Pwomf!

  Another pulse teleported a tiny Wizard ten feet away from the group, where he stamped a staff three times his height. His covered feet were floppy like flippers, and his oversized eyes and nose were somehow proportionate to his huge ears. A goblin, like the ones who sacrificed weapons to Mujungo.

  “Step into my circle.” The Wizard stamped his cane again, pulsing Blue Saro around him.

  Alan recognized the voice to be the one speaking to him from afar before. He nodded for the Fate Chasers to stay in lockstep with him. “You use clairvoyance to teleport?”

  “We must know the future of where we will end up before we transpose ourselves.” The Wizard’s eyes flashed.

  “Ah,” Alan said, thinking about how Itsy transposed regular items into whatever she pleased. “So it’s a Blue and Gray combination.”

  “Well versed, for a Merchant type.” The Wizard arced an eyebrow.

  “The best Merchants know exactly what they’re trading,” Alan quipped, holding Ara by her rope as he walked to the front of the circle, making room for the Chasers.

  “I am Kablo Shenks, one of ten Hutten Fie watchers. You will be under a close eye as you tread through our realm. Keep note, Merchant, few outsiders get access beyond this mountain, and even fewer still return.”

  “Foreboding,” Alan said. “We’ve shown no ill will, Kablo. I’d hope you provide the same courtesy before our realms’ information is exchanged.”

  Kablo hooted and raised his staff. “It’s not a threat I spout. Merely statistics.”

  Pwomf!

  Alan felt his soul rip from his body, fling upside down and in ten rotations, all in a flash, before his body and mind reoriented at the front of the mountain cove. The gryphons went mad as they reformed, and the Chasers did their best to calm them.

  “I’d say to leave your beasts at the door, but I can tell you’re quite attached.” Kablo pressed his staff against the mountainside, activating a massive black portal with purple edges inside the cove.

  Glad you noticed, goblin. We’ll be using them to win over your god.

  “Much obliged,” Alan said.

  Kablo held the portal edge with one hand, presenting it for them to enter. “Well then, be prepared to witness order unlike you’ve ever seen, in this universe or the last.”