(Dylan)

  Dylan’s hands shot out as he took a step back and said, “I didn’t touch it!” He really didn’t want to get punched again, and who in their right mind would stop Runemist from hitting him? He glanced over at Wedge, who might, but it’d take him time to cross the deck to intervene.

  Runemist tilted her head at him and asked, “You didn’t touch what?”

  Everyone’s attention shifted from Dylan to the dirty garment on the floor.

  “Don’t be mad,” he started. “But I sort of found a box, well, tripped over it actually—”

  She cut him off before he got lost on another tangent. “In the jungle? Was it locked?”

  He nodded, taking a hesitant step back toward Eury, Runemist, and the dirty bundle. “Yeah, it said something about a dimensional lock. Not really sure what that meant.” His fingers worked mindlessly at the grime under his nails.

  “Is that the box?” Eury asked, pointing to the filthy cloak.

  “No, I couldn’t carry it—too hot and heavy for me.” Dylan also pointed to the cloak. “That’s what was inside the box.” He glanced up from his cloak to Runemist and asked, “What’s a dimensional lock?”

  Wedge suddenly appeared beside Dylan, who hadn’t even heard the big guy move. “Jesus, Wedge!” he yelped, flinching frightfully. “You’re supposed to be a living statue… not a goddamned ninja.”

  The big guy joined them in peering at the orange cloaked bundle and answered Dylan’s question.

  “A container enchantment. It stores items inside of a pocket dimension. Even if you break open the container, the lock keeps the contents safe in another dimensional space,” he said.

  With a hand over his still pounding heart, Dylan said, “Well, that’s weird… it was just sitting there in the box when I opened it.”

  Eury, Runemist, and Wedge all looked up from the pile to Dylan, their expectant stares pressing down on him. When he didn’t offer an explanation, Wedge prompted him.

  “How did you get past the lock?”

  “I used the override option,” Dylan said. His lips pursed to the side. “Not very secure if you ask me…”

  Runemist took a half step closer to him, lowering her voice. “What did you just say?”

  “Are we not supposed to override locks?” Dylan asked, looking to Eury and Wedge for help. He took a step back, narrowing his eyes, and said, “I feel like I’m in trouble again—”

  “What do you mean, override?” Runemist asked. Dylan detected suspicion in her voice, but not accusation. It didn’t sound like he was in trouble—yet.

  “I don’t know,” he said, lifting his hands in exasperation. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how magic works?” He glanced down at his chest. “I accidentally touched the box and burned myself. Then it mentioned a dimensional lock, and it asked if I wanted to override it.”

  Eury looked to Wedge, and then to him, her mouth pressing into a small frown. “That’s… not a thing.”

  “Uh… Yeah, it is,” he said. “How do you think I got the box open?” The proof was right in front of them, on the floor, wrapped in a dirty cloak.

  Runemist and Wedge shared a knowing glance. The big guy nodded and stepped into Dylan’s personal space, stooping down to his height. His voice was quiet, but his message firm.

  “Tell no one how you opened the box. Do not mention the lock or the override to anyone.” Then Wedge straightened to his full height, his gaze steady as it bore down on Dylan. “Do you understand?”

  “A bit cryptic, but okay…”

  Wedge’s stare intensified. “I am serious, Dylan.”

  He put up a hand and nodded. “Yeah, I got it, I promise.”

  Runemist crossed her arms. “We’ve heard that before from you… But you couldn’t even wait a bloody turn of the clock before you jumped off the ship on a suicide mission.”

  Eury stared at him, her arms crossing tightly against her chest as she nodded in agreement with the mender.

  Dylan sighed. “Fair point. So, what do I tell them if they ask how I got the box open?”

  “Watch closely,” Runemist said.

  She ignored his question and walked away to speak with Wedge privately. Dylan thought that to be a touch rude, but he guessed he also had an answer.

  Eury stepped beside him, her crossed arms brushing lightly against his. “So that’s the…?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ahem,” a very patient first mate said behind them.

  Eury was the first to turn around. Her eyes widened as she gasped, remembering how she’d treated him. “Oh! I—I,” she stammered, fumbling for words.

  “I’m terribly sorry. I-—I wasn’t thinking—” Her words faltered, and Princess Eury seemed to shrink back into just Eury.

  “It’s alright, princess.” The first mate held up a hand as she shut her eyes with a wince. “I understand the circumstances and accept your apology.”

  Her face grew flush as her mouth clamped shut. She gave the first mate an apologetic nod before glancing at Dylan. Though her eyes wanted to say more, her wounded pride wouldn’t allow it. She excused herself, hurrying away without another word.

  First Mate Echo waited for Dylan’s full attention before diving into his pent-up monologue.

  “Captain, I must admit, turning into the shots was brilliant. I don’t think we could’ve dodged those attacks with evasive maneuvering alone.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “At first, I thought it foolish to give up ground, allowing the beetle to draw closer by repeatedly changing course. But I hadn’t known you were merely baiting the beast, luring it into your trap. It was simply inspiring to watch your ingenuity as you took our very last munition, modified as it was, to hand deliver it directly to the foe.

  “We all watched your heroic leap off the ship in awe. And while it’s common for a captain to go down with their ship, I’ve never heard of a captain going down for their ship, sir. Even more impressive was your ability to not only detect the weakened exoskeleton along the base of the horn, but to deliver the attack with such… precision.

  “I must ask, sir. How did you know that one explosive would be enough to fell the beast?”

  “Excuse me?” Dylan wasn’t sure he heard him correctly. It sounded like the kaiju was dead.

  “How did you know you’d be able to slay the kaiju, sir?” the first mate clarified.

  “Wait… I killed it?” Dylan leaned in skeptically. “Are you sure?”

  “Pardon my informality, but you blew half its infernal head off and blasted the bloody horn clean off at the base. After the fatal blow, we all watched the remains crash to the jungle floor. And when the ship brought us back around to retrieve your hat, the beetle still hadn’t moved from its final resting place. I can confidently confirm it’s dead. And by your hand, sir.”

  “Holy shit, I killed a kaiju,” Dylan said out loud, letting it sink in.

  “Not just any, sir. An uncommon-ranked kaiju.”

  The gurgling of Dylan’s empty stomach cut his sense of achievement short—he was still very hungry and a long way from home.

  “With the new speed of the engines, how long until we get back to Nightshade?” Dylan asked.

  “Three days, sir. We don’t want to push the modified engine too hard or too long. We’re all out of spare parts.”

  “Three days it is.”

  “Nobody move!” Engineer Echo cried out.

  Dylan turned to see what he was going on about.

  “Captain, it is imperative that you remain perfectly still!” the engineer pleaded as he crept toward the stairs leading below deck.

  Dylan froze, not even his eyes moving from their last spot. Unable to help himself, he asked a question.

  “Why can’t I move?”

  “Your wrist, sir,” the engineer said.

  Dylan unconsciously glanced down at his wrists. One of them had some gunk caked on from the grenade, but both were equally filthy.

  “Sir, please don’t move. You’ve got some of the binding agent on your arm,” the engineer said.

  “And…?” Dylan waited for him to explain.

  “I don’t know why it didn’t go off during the initial explosion or in the super-heated environment below, but it’s extremely unstable right now.”

  Now Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off his wrist, forcing himself to breathe slowly. Panic bubbled beneath the surface, but he swallowed it back down. The engineer had just reached the stairs. Dylan noticed everyone else slowly backing away—they were all abandoning him.

  “You can’t just leave me here like this,” Dylan pleaded. Even if he got reset, he’d just come back with it still attached to his arm.

  “Don’t worry, Captain—you stay right there and I’ll—”

  The engineer didn’t finish his sentence and disappeared below deck.

  “Great, just great… What am I supposed to do now?”

  “For the love of Mother, don’t move,” Athrax said.

  Five tense minutes passed as Dylan stood there, unmoving, and wondered if Engineer Echo was ever going to come back. He frowned, imagining the engineer hastily assembling a personal jetpack to fly away in. His muscles burned, and his body trembled from the effort of remaining perfectly still for too long.

  “Can someone go check on Engineer Echo?” Dylan asked.

  “I’ll go,” Hay’len said. But just as they reached the stairs, the engineer appeared, holding a metal canister. He took his time approaching Dylan, his skull fixed on the gunked-up wrist.

  “I’ve got a solution that should dissolve the binding agent, rendering it inert,” the engineer said. He unscrewed the top from the canister. Smoke rose from the contents, and Dylan grimaced from the acrid scent.

  “Is it safe?” Dylan asked.

  “Safer than the binding agent,” the engineer said. “This will sting a bit.” But before Dylan could ask any more questions, the engineer poured the liquid onto his wrist.

  “Oh that’s not too bad, it’s a bit cold—”

  Dylan stopped talking as he gripped his wrist and screamed. Sharp, icy pricks stabbed at the skin of his arm as the solution continued to freeze everything it touched. The ash-covered binding agent transformed, growing into fractal crystals just before falling off his wrist.

  “He’s going to need a bit of mending!” the engineer shouted over Dylan’s screams.

  The engineer bent down and used his bony fingers to sweep the inert chemicals into the canister.

  Dylan ran over to Runemist, holding out his half-frozen arm. She quickly took hold of him and used her mending ability. Warmth slowly seeped back into his arm, and he cradled it afterward, rubbing it with his good hand to chase away the lingering pins and needles.

  With the latest crisis over, it was P’reslen’s turn to approach and speak with Dylan.

  “Not sure a shower is going to cut it this time,” he said, cradling his chin between a clawed thumb and finger as he assessed the sooty initiate.

  Dylan glanced up from his arm with a weak smile. “Got any magic abilities that might help?”

  “No.” P’reslen shook his head with a grin. “But a couple cycles in the deathwash machine might do the trick.” They both chuckled at his joke.

  “Just so you know,” P’reslen continued. “I’m usually the one flying off to do something stupidly heroic. It’s sort of my thing…”

  “I’ve noticed,” Dylan said.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m glad you’re alright.”

  “Same,” Dylan said, referring to them all.

  P’reslen tilted his head out of curiosity but kept any questions to himself. He excused himself as Runemist and Wedge returned. The three of them looked down at the orange wrapped bundle in silence.

  For the past couple of minutes, Quinten and Athrax had been deep in conversation on the starboard side of the upper deck.

  “Bloody pup grabs a grenade, jumps off the ship, steals the kill, and everyone’s patting him on the head,” Athrax grumbled. “And here, I’ve been saying we should’ve blown up the infernal bug since the beginning…”

  “Chuck him a bone, yeah? He’s bloody earned it. Who else do you reckon could take on an uncommon-ranked kaiju before even getting ranked—and still be kickin’?” Quinten asked.

  Athrax exhaled sharply, mulling it over. He looked up and said, “Lo’kai, maybe.”

  “Exactly,” Quinten said, leaning up against the railing beside Athrax. “Mate, there are followers.” He pointed between Athrax and himself. “And there are leaders.” He nodded toward Wedge and Runemist, who were discussing what was under Dylan’s cloak.

  Athrax grunted and nodded in agreement, his arms still crossed over his chest.

  “And then there’s whatever the bloody Pits he is,” Quinten said, gesturing at the filthy, shirtless man.

  “Scout?” Athrax suggested.

  “Scout,” they agreed in unison.

  “Quinten!” Runemist suddenly called out his name, interrupting their conversation.

  He patted the old soldier’s shoulder and then jogged over to answer his summons.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Take that.” She pointed to the cloaked bundle lying on the deck. “And store it.”

  Dylan quickly leaned in, pointing to the orange mess on the floor, and said, “Oh! And can I get my cloak back when you’re done with it?”

  Quinten looked to Runemist for the answer. She nodded and said, “And bring back the cloak. Just be very careful when you handle that book.”

  “On it,” Quinten reached down, scooped up the pile, summoned a door, and disappeared into the portal.

  “Is it a secret thing?” Dylan asked Runemist after Quinten left.

  She didn’t seem to follow his question and waited for him to try again.

  “Why’s he always leaving to go put stuff away? Is he hiding it or something?”

  “His storage ability uses Earth magic, and requires direct contact with the dirt,” Runemist said.

  “Oh…” Dylan nodded absently, replaying her words over and over until the pieces locked into place. His pupils widened, breath catching as realization hit. “You said it!” He thrust a finger up at her. “You just said the word!”

  “What word?”

  “Quinten’s storage ability! The magic type!” Dylan’s gaze darted between Wedge and Runemist, verifying he hadn’t imagined it.

  “Earth?” Wedge asked.

  “Yes!” Dylan exclaimed, moving his finger to the big guy as he bounced with excitement. He wasn’t crazy and they could pronounce it!

  “Earth is the magic that deals with dirt,” Runemist said, as if it were the most elementary of concepts. Dylan’s eye twitched. He opened his mouth, then shut it, trying and failing to find an appropriate response.

  She looked at Wedge for a clue what Dylan was going on about. But the big guy shrugged, just as clueless as her.

  Dylan shut his eyes and pursed his lips tightly, desperately trying not to give in to his mounting frustration. He hadn’t known there was a difference between “dirt” and Earth magic when he registered his planet.

  “Mother Fucker!”