Once the Alianza had recognized the danger, rift assignments were divvied out in no time.

  But despite the concession made by the Eagle, the Mexican super had insisted on sending at least one Mexican representative with every group to share in the spoils.

  From what little he had gathered, it seemed that clearing rifts led to some staggering rewards. He’d heard about Attribute increases, weapons and armor in the higher rifts, and even new Skills in special cases.

  The rumor was that completing a rift gave the group two options: close it and take the offered rewards, or push through and complete the other world’s half, leading to greater rewards. The downside was that you left the rift open, potentially allowing the invaders a chance to take it back and enter Earth.

  The risks outweighed the rewards, however substantial.

  Though there were only a handful of C-ranked rifts, and a single B, his mother assured him with the weight of prophesy that more would open as the days went on. Apparently, the San Francisco Incursion had started on much the same scale as the Mexico City Incursion, before ramping up violently over the next week. Which meant that there was a ticking clock on closing these rifts before the next wave opened.

  Some complained about the short supply of rifts, but not him; he was already feeling a wave of anxiety just thinking about entering one.

  A point of contention among the Alianza and the Protectorate had been the cap on rift entrants. Terry hadn’t known this earlier, but apparently B-ranked rifts and below only allowed five Awakened at a time. If a group failed and fled—or wiped—they could try again or send in another group.

  At the A-rank, the rifts allowed forty at a time, which was how San Francisco and other cities had been flooded with high-ranking invaders. But given there were dozens of C-rankers eager to enter, there had been some complaining as the leaders had announced that only twenty in total could enter.

  The milling C-rankers numbered about seventy, a roughly equal mix of Protectorate and Mexican supers. While the Alianza was the ruling super group of the region, they didn’t make it a habit to invite C-rankers into their fold, so those around Terry were more like temps than full-fledged Alianza representatives.

  He couldn’t help but feel the tension among the two disparate groups. The native supers eyed those from the north with a resentful mood and the Protectorate C-rankers weren’t any more charitable. They stood with a clear divide between them, like pre-teen boys and girls at a school dance.

  Any other time, he might have filled that empty space, sought to bridge the divide between the two allied groups. But his skin was itching with anxiety—not just at the prospect of entering a rift, but also because he had realized that his powers would be on display.

  He had every intention of masking what he was capable of, but in a life-or-death situation, he might not be given the option. Which meant there was a very real chance he had to expose his varied array of Skills to strangers.

  Which was another reason he purposely didn’t draw attention to himself; he didn’t need any more eyes on him than he was already going to get by volunteering for a rift.

  After a few minutes of milling about, a woman stepped into view, floating gracefully six or so feet off the ground. The crowd of C-rankers immediately hushed at her arrival, the A-ranked aura unmissable, even at a distance.

  “Your attention, please,” she called out in Spanish. A man at her side—though firmly planted on the ground—echoed her in English. Terry’s Spanish wasn’t terrible, but he was still grateful for the translation. “As you all know, there are only twenty slots for C-rifts at this moment.” A low murmur broke out, even though it wasn’t news to any of them. “We will begin coordinating by composition, creating a single team at a time. The Eagle has mandated that as these rifts are on Mexican soil, each group shall have a minimum of one Mexican-born member.”

  This was also not news to the group, yet the Protectorate side grumbled audibly. In response, the Mexican supers angled to face them, jeering and taunting as a group.

  The aura nearby stirred and he whirled in surprise as he felt it dash across the divide toward the Mexican group. He couldn’t quite determine its effect—until someone yelped in surprise. It took a moment for them to process what had happened, but once the realization set in, angry shouts rose up even as a dozen points of aura began to shift in response.

  Terry felt paralyzed with shock. He had never in a million years expected nearly a hundred C-rankers to form an open brawl—especially with the rifts visible only a quarter mile in the distance.

  An opening salvo of aura dashed across the divide—mostly harmless. Flashes of light in eyes, water rising from a nearby puddle to soak a nearby girl, a wave of Hypnotist-induced fear that was too diffused to do much of anything.

  All of that was drowned out by the powerful aura that gushed forth from the Alianza representative floating at the front of the group. A gale rushed through the assembled C-rankers, knocking more than a few to the ground and staggering the rest—Terry included.

  The sudden barrage of wind interrupted the forming auras, stunning both groups silent.

  When he looked over to the A-ranker who had summoned the wind, her face was a thundercloud.

  “You have embarrassed me.” He didn’t need the translation to understand that. “We are hosts and you have openly attacked our honored guests! Shame! You have brought shame upon the Alianza del águila and Mexico!”

  Somewhere on the Mexican side, a girl spoke up in Spanish. “But Brisa.” The girl pointed across to the Protectorate side. “They provoked us first—”

  Wind stole the words from her mouth, rushing so loudly that nothing could be heard over the gale. When it dissipated, the woman—Brisa—appeared even more furious.

  “Show some grace, Maria. Don’t bray at me like a donkey.” The girl shrunk into herself, slipping out of Terry’s sight. Brisa turned her glare onto the Protectorate side, wiping the hidden smirks from more than one face. “You represent the Protectorate,” she said in English, a soft accent in her voice. “Act like it. Any further breaches of decorum and I’ll ask the White Rose to deal with the culprit herself.” She leaned in threateningly. “If you’ve never had your mind invaded by a Hypnotist, count yourself lucky…”

  Her words lingered in the air and Terry couldn’t tell if it was by some magic or just pure anxiety fueling his imagination.

  Brisa’s eyes scanned both groups for a handful of breaths, as if waiting for someone to openly defy her. He was relieved to note that the aura was so stagnant as to appear lifeless.

  When she seemed satisfied, she skipped all preamble, jumping right into group selection.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “First thing’s first: who can absorb damage?” The man at her side began translating once more. “We need frontline fighters to draw attention and take hits.”

  The shift in topic seemed to stun everyone silent for a moment before someone on the Mexican side raised a hand.

  Brisa zeroed in on the man instantly. “Class, notable Skills, and Attributes?”

  Terry saw his eyes widen, his mouth opening and shutting a few times in indecision. He didn’t blame the man; revealing your powers in front of such a large group was unheard of.

  Brisa picked up on his reluctance, a heavy sigh leaving her.

  “You will have to abandon your preconceived notions from before. Know now that we are at war—not with a single Awakened world, but with six. Our very survival as a species is at stake. If we are to survive, we must utilize our powers where they are most needed, and eschew secrecy for the greater good.” Her eyes found the man, boring into him. “Class, notable Skills, and Attributes—or I shall disqualify you as a volunteer.”

  The man straightened his back, the indecision melting from his features. “Duelist. C8 Strength.” He hesitated a single moment, his eyes flicking around the group before hardening. “B0 Toughness.”

  There was a slight murmur of surprise among both groups and Terry even found his own eyebrows rising in appreciation, before Brisa cut across the rising chatter.

  “Excellent. You’ll serve the tank role for Group One. Come stand over here.”

  As he picked his way through the crowd, Brisa turned her gaze back to them.

  “Damage dealers. Raise your hands.”

  Unlike before, there was a rush of movement all around him. Hands shot up like pistons, revealing that nearly half of the two groups were classified as damage dealers.

  Brisa nodded expectantly. “Good. Melee-range fighters, keep your hands up. Everyone else, put your hand down.”

  The raised hands more than halved.

  The selection process went smoother after that and Terry kept his hand down for the first group to get a sense of the compositions.

  Brisa seemed to work in a specific order, first selecting a tank, then a melee damage dealer, then a healer or healer-adjacent super, a ranged damage dealer, and finally, a utility class.

  When she’d asked for the utility volunteer, she’d gone into a bit more detail. She’d called for Travelers, Hypnotists, Amplifiers, Disruptors, Seers, and Visionaries. Plus any of the other Classes that possessed a more utility-focused skillset.

  He was still deciding what role he planned to volunteer for when she began calling for the second group’s members.

  Tanking was out of the question. Even if his Physical Attributes were in the high Ds, none of his Skills were exactly conducive to taking damage. He had daydreamed about learning how Silver manifested his metal-skin armor—or even Ben’s ice armor—but until then, he knew he’d serve other roles better.

  There were two options he was considering, though he was reluctant to reveal either power.

  The first was his Master of Light Skill. With that, he could potentially stealth the team and blind their enemies. It was useful utility, but certainly not offensive in any staggering fashion.

  The other option was his portal ability. Travelers were a rare Class and he doubted there were more than five among the entire group. And if he allowed himself to be a touch arrogant for a moment, he doubted any of them had his power or control.

  They would be in high demand, allowing the group to bypass threats wholesale.

  But an obvious issue had presented itself out of nowhere, putting a damper on his plans.

  “Hey,” a voice said at his shoulder. “You’re the White Rose’s son, aren’t you?”

  He turned in surprise, coming face-to-face with a young woman. She was probably seventeen or eighteen, with short brown hair and freckles dappling the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were hazel and they seemed to be attempting to peer into his very soul, a sharp contrast to the whimsical smile on her lips.

  For a moment, he considered lying, then realized there was no point. Supposedly, he had his own HeroWatch entry now, so it wasn’t like he could stay incognito forever.

  Still, there was something about the woman that made him hesitate.

  “Yeah…how’d you know that?”

  She shrugged casually, though he noted her eyes light up in silent victory. “Read your mind.”

  He instinctively took a step back, congealing his aura around his head. There was nothing penetrating his space—but then again, if a Hypnotist had invaded his mind, wouldn’t they be able to mask their presence?

  But the woman suddenly laughed—not a friendly laugh either, but more of a triumphant gotcha than anything else. He kept his guard up—over both his mind and his aura.

  He prepared to chew her out for the invasion of privacy, when she saw his darkening expression and barked out another laugh before waving away his anger.

  “I’m just pulling your leg.” The triumphant smile never left her eyes, and he found himself disliking her immediately. “I’m an Infuser, actually. I saw you coming out of her tent back in S.F.”

  He wouldn’t let himself relax. It was a harmless joke, all in all, but there was something about her that was triggering his intuition. A spiteful energy that she tried to laugh away.

  It wasn’t working.

  He nodded amicably so as not to be rude, but angled his body slightly away as a subtle indication that he wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

  She sidled up closer, clearly not taking the hint, her arm brushing his in a strangely intimate way that made his skin crawl. He resisted the urge to pull away, but just barely.

  “We should team up,” she suggested casually, either oblivious to his discomfort or ignoring it. “I’m a healer. What powers are you bringing?”

  He couldn’t wrap his head around why she was being so clingy. Was this about getting in with his mother or did she just really need a friend? He wasn’t one to purposely ditch someone who appeared lonely, but there was something about her that was pinging in the back of his mind.

  “Uh,” he started, stalling for time while he considered what to reveal. “I’m gonna volunteer for a…”

  The voice of the A-ranker calling out team roles suddenly filtered into his consciousness.

  “Utility types!” she yelled. “Any utility types ready to go?”

  His hand shot up so fast, he nearly clipped the girl’s face as she continued to lean in closer and closer. He took a step forward, creating a gap as he shouted out.

  “Traveler here!”

  It wasn’t the smartest move, he realized. Since there was a HeroWatch entry on him, there was no doubt already some speculation on his powerset. By revealing his portal ability, he was essentially confirming that he had Awakened—or transitioned—to Traveler. Any other powerset he eventually revealed would have to be something adjacent to that Class in some way.

  But that was tomorrow’s concern; for now, he just needed to get away from this girl. It was a strange sensation driving him to the conclusion, but he trusted it.

  Brisa’s eyes found him quickly—was that a flare of recognition in her eyes—before she nodded and waved him forward. He didn’t spare a glance for the girl as he threaded through the crowd. When he reached the front, as expected, there were already four others selected for his group.

  That was part of the reason he’d raised his hand so quickly; utility was selected last, which meant this group already had a healer.

  His body began to release the tension her presence had been building. He convinced himself he was reading too much into the situation, that she was just being friendly to a recognizable face.

  Then his eyes found hers in the crowd and he felt his chest clench. They weren’t directed toward him, but toward his group. And where there had been an enthusiastic pep before, there was now only a purposeful attention.

  He forced his eyes away, turning to face his new group. There were three young men, each looking in their early twenties, and one older woman who he might have guessed was thirty or so. All five of them studied each other as Brisa dismissed them.

  “Follow Luis. He’ll take you to your assigned rift.”

  Luis was a man in his late twenties with a rough-looking scar across his chin. Despite the tough exterior, he gave them each a beaming smile and waved for them to follow.

  They passed through the center of the crowd, right between the gap separating the Alianza and Protectorate sides. As they followed, he called back over his shoulder.

  “Your group designation is Jaguar. You’ll be entering rift 3-C—”

  A sudden gasp behind Terry drew them up and they all turned to see one of the men doubling over, clutching his stomach in pain.

  Luis pushed past Terry, crouching to examine the man.

  “Qué pasa?”

  “Mi estómago. Yo...yo necesito un ba?o!”

  The man raced off, no secret as to where he was desperately rushing.

  Luis frowned after him a moment before shrugging. “We can’t wait for him. We’ll need a new hea—”

  “I’ll go!” a familiar voice called from the crowd.

  Terry’s stomach flipped as his eyes found her—and he was just as stunned to see that she was staring at him.

  What is this girl’s deal?

  “You’re a healer?” Luis asked, unaware of Terry’s discomfort.

  “Sure am,” she responded with a bubbly tone, though her smile seemed to stop at her eyes.

  Luis hesitated, his eyes finding Brisa who nodded briefly, before shrugging.

  “Okay, let’s go, then. I’ll brief you as we walk.”

  As the girl quick-stepped to join their group, Terry couldn’t look at her, though the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall.

  He missed the smile drain from her face, her eyes boring into the back of his head.