Angar limped toward the Starwell, its ramp glinting in the murky haze and ash, his chest filled with excitement.

  He’d be taking a spaceship off his world and to a new one, the great unknown looming in front of him.

  I love being a Crusader, he thought.

  He barely knew the women of Dragon Company, but he’d miss them, and was glad they no longer viewed him as tainted or corrupt. Or a pawn of Hell. Whatever they had thought.

  He’d miss the rough kindness of Solace and Sthayi most, their help a balm when he needed it. Medicus too, her coldness hiding a caring soul.

  His hands and forearms were covered in metal gauntlets. He was told keeping them out of sight would be wise.

  Pain gnawed his battered frame with every step, a familiar feeling that grounded him. Those fleeting days of being pain-free had felt wrong. It made him feel weak, like some pampered southerner.

  Angar’s new ring sat on his finger beneath a gauntlet, a small hunk of metal that hummed with power.

  Tempest lasting another second was a major improvement. He’d get in three or four extra spins, and Thunderstorm would tick an extra time, causing even more damage on the last tick, meaning its strikes and forks would hit harder.

  He pulled up his Annals. Seeing “NA” turn into an item made him grunt in satisfaction.

  ITEMS

  Ring 1: Reliquary of Wrath, Tier 2 – Increases duration of channeled Abilities by 20% (currently 10%. Will increase to stated values upon ascension to Tier 2).

  How the ring scaled down due to his Tier caused a little anger to stir in his chest, but it taught him a bit more about how items functioned.

  And he had the XP to ascend to Tier 2, he just needed to gain the power the Grim Ordeals would give him first. And he needed to learn how to ascend too.

  He figured Spirit would teach him that. Having one of the Holy Trinity personally guide him seemed the smartest road to take. He’d do whatever she wanted like an obedient pet as long as she kept feeding him battles and power.

  While he was in his screens, he checked the last Glorious Achievement he had been granted.

  A Glorious Achievement!

  By God's grace, you and your companions have cleaved through the ranks of unholy goop, felling 1,000 blights. Their sludge, a puddle now searing the ground, whisper of your valor. Yet, the path to glory does not end here; the next honor awaits at the slaughter of 5,000, where your name shall echo with more honor.

  Glory Points bestowed: 2 (627 unaided kills)

  For God and Empire!

  This also taught him more about the System. It seemed Glory Points were shared among contributors. Since he hadn’t killed the full thousand himself, he received 2 points instead of 3. And since the other Crusaders had beaten him to the Glorious Achievement, he hadn’t received double the points.

  He had received the full 1 and 2 points for killing one and ten blights.

  He doubted Dragon Company was getting anywhere near the Glory Points he was if the captain and her squads had to divide theirs. They probably weren’t getting many each. Spirit said he had more Glory Points than most. He could understand why now.

  He closed his screens as the ramp began to squeal open. When it thudded down, a figure holding a lancer hopped out. By the shape of the armor, and it was armor he really liked the look of, he thought it was probably a woman.

  A mechanical but clearly feminine voice buzzed out, “God and Empire to you! Wow, this world sucks! Sucks as bad as a Hellworld, or how I picture one, seeing as I’ve never been.”

  A big man with short hair and a scarred face followed behind her. Angar about matched the man’s height, causing pride to flare in his chest.

  These people looked interesting. Strange, but interesting. He was excited to spend time with them and get to know them.

  The big man turned to Vernost, but a shout cut through from the ship. “Told you it’d suck! Its gravity alone sucks. Let me see what it looks like on the ground.”

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  A flicker shimmered in front of Angar. Spirit materialized beside a small, wiry man hopping out of the ship, her form faint but solidifying fast.

  As he landed, she pointed to the small man. “Careful, Angar, this one’s a Heretic. Nearly a Bonded, the third stage of corruption. We can…”

  Angar’s hands tightened around his maul, muscles coiling despite the pain. He swung with all the strength his battered frame could muster, the chert head arcing toward the man’s skull.

  As his maul connected with the side of the man’s head, time froze. Spirit’s horrified yell pierced the silence. “What in the Hell are you doing!”

  Angar didn’t know what the issue was. He spared his mother, but that was his mother, and that was before he swore to dedicate his life to the relentless eradication of the foul spawn of Hell and the wicked Heretic.

  He couldn’t move his body. He tested his mouth and found he could speak. “You said he was a Heretic.”

  “He’s not even third stage yet!” Spirit’s hands flew to her temples. “You didn’t let me finish! God Almighty, I didn’t think you’d kill the guy after I said a few words! What’s wrong with you? We’re supposed to save people, not murder them!”

  Angar frowned, his eyes squinting in frustration. “Am I supposed to kill Heretics or not?”

  Spirit groaned, pacing as she spoke. “There’s Heretics and then there’s Heretics! He was…ugh! He was only the second stage! Just a Shadow, not lost yet! You could’ve helped him! Pulled him back! Redeemed him!”

  “How was I supposed to know?” Angar’s tone sharpened as frustration crept in. “All the catechesis you’ve taught me have said Heretics are to be shown no mercy and killed relentlessly. I was sure you were telling me that so I’d kill him.”

  She stopped, pinched the bridge of her nose, and exhaled hard. “Ugh! I know! This is as much…no, this is my fault. It’s all my fault. I just didn’t expect you to leap straight to murder like that. We don’t kill people unless it’s absolutely necessary. Fifth and sixth stage Heretics? Yes, usually. But even then, sometimes we can save them.”

  She lifted her gaze to Angar, her hands gesturing as she spoke. “Theosis hammers the ‘kill all Heretics’ line so hard because it’s tough for most to stomach when it’s friends or family who spot it first. It’s called Narrative Overreach and Saturation. It’s deliberate exaggeration, fearmongering, trying to force obedience beyond what’s needed, flooding everything with that message to lock in compliance.

  “It’s the only way to wedge it deep into the culture and make it stick. But everyone knows it’s overblown, and knows which Heretics it truly applies to. Still, friends and family too often look the other way, and that blindness can literally lead to millions dying, even billions.”

  The maul was in the middle of crushing the grinning man’s head, so this info was too little too late. And his oath didn’t say certain Heretics. It seemed very clear he was supposed to kill all he could.

  He hoped this didn’t ruin their relationship and she’d still help him out and lead him into more glorious battles. It was an honest mistake, though he had a hard time seeing it as one.

  She cradled her head. “I burned everything…more than everything, on that Harmongulan fight and I’m still helping against the gateways and Raga. I’m deep in the hole, Angar. I can’t keep spending energy like this. I need to recover my reserves if I’m going to help with Raga and teach you what you need to know.

  “Please, please, after this, please just…just be boring for a while. I’m begging you. I can fix this but…this was not okay. Please don’t jump straight to murdering people ever again. Let me finish speaking first.”

  “Understood,” Angar replied, meeting her gaze. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Ugh! It’s my fault,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping. “I need to do better. I need to be better. But so do you. Okay. I’m ending dilation. Please don’t antagonize anyone. Just say Theosis told you he was a Heretic and tasked you with killing him.”

  Time snapped forward. A wet crunch echoed as the maul burst the man’s head apart, blood and brain splattered the big man’s harness and Vernost’s armor. The woman Free Agent flinched as red speckled her green plates.

  Silence hung heavy, then shattered. The big man ripped his sidearm free, leveling it at Angar’s chest, while the woman snapped her lancer up, her optic slit flaring. “What in Hell was that!” the man roared, his voice raw with fury.

  “He was a Heretic,” Angar said calmly, but firmly. “Holy Theosis tasked me with killing him.”

  “Bullshit!” they barked out in unison, their weapons held steady.

  The woman’s voice crackled as she yelled, “That’s not how tasks work! You couldn’t know! And Jun wasn’t a Heretic!”

  Vernost stepped between them, her crimson cloak snapping in the wind. Her helm turning to Angar. He couldn’t tell since he couldn’t see her eyes, but it felt as if she were staring at him.

  A voice shouted from the ship, “What’s happening out there?”

  The big man yelled back, “This bastard we’re hauling to Erim just killed Jun!”

  “What?” A figure appeared at the ramp’s edge, peering out but holding position.

  Vernost raised a gauntleted hand, faced Angar a moment longer, then pivoted to the Free Agents. “Lower your weapons,” she ordered, her voice cutting like steel.

  “What?” The big man’s grip tightened as his scarred jaw clenched. “He murdered my crewman. That doesn’t fly.”

  “I’ve just received a task from Holy Theosis,” Vernost stated, unwavering, “to burn this Heretic’s corpse. Sir Angar speaks true.”

  “Bullshit!” The man’s shout cracked through the air, disbelief twisting his scarred face into a snarl. “We’re Free Agents! We know how tasks work better than anyone. This isn’t how they work.”

  He jabbed a thick finger toward Angar, his eyes blazing. “This boy couldn’t have gotten a task to kill Jun because there’s no way he’d know if he was a Heretic. Which Jun wasn’t. I’d know if he was.”

  He swung his head toward Vernost, his voice dropping to a growl. “The Parousia Protocols didn’t just vanish a minute ago. You didn’t get a task to burn a corpse either.” His free hand clenched into a fist, trembling with barely contained fury. “I hate to call a Crusader a liar, but you’re lying. Mac! Everyone! Gear up, now!”

  “On it, Boss!” came the reply with the sound of boots thudding as the figure darted back inside.

  Quick as a whip, Vernost dropped her rifle as she snatched the man’s sidearm with one hand and wrenched the lancer from the woman’s grip with the other.

  “I wasn’t asking, Layman!” she bellowed, looming over them. “Accuse me of lying again, and your next breath’s your last. I’ve never borne that insult in my life.”

  The man froze, his jaw tight, then lowered his hands, anger simmering in his glare. “Yes, Captain,” he growled in a voice thick with restraint. The woman mirrored him, her stance tense but still.

  “It’s Madame Captain to you, Layman!” the captain bellowed.

  Vernost straightened, handing the weapons back before picking up her rifle. “I know how wrong this seems. Nothing on this cursed rock works right. There’s been tasks given to natives who shouldn’t have them, many such cases like this. Your task to fetch Sir Angar was strange too, was it not?”

  After a tense moment, the man nodded, and Vernost continued. “I swear by my honor as a Holy Knight, before the Holy Trinity, on my immortal soul, this is truth. Your man was a Heretic. I’ll burn his corpse. You’ll take Sir Angar to Erim, unharmed. Cross me even a grain, and Dragon Company F of the Grim Martyrs hunts you to your graves. Understand me, Layman?”