The Guild House of Punchy Bastards was smaller than Raine had expected.

  Of all the factions and guilds that had courted them after they had made their appearance in the Inner Worlds, Punchy Bastards stood out for two reasons. One was the name, which was terribly irreverent compared to most of the guilds that jostled for power inside the great factions which ruled the Inner and War Worlds, and the other was that the invitation had come from an Alum. The first and so far only one they had even seen.

  Not that they’d skimped on investigating the guild in question once they’d gotten the invitation — which had consisted of the Alum appearing, remarking they should join, and vanishing again. Punchy Bastards was incredibly elite, with no clear recruitment policy, but also entirely insular. They owned exactly one town on each War World, and that was it. No politics, no maneuvering, no recruitment drives or pitches. They didn’t even owe any fealty to the big factions, being entirely independent.

  The latter point was one of the most important, as they needed to avoid being locked out of other factions or being expected to follow along with some god’s plans. That narrowed their options considerably, and the two of them coming as a set narrowed things even more. The specialty guilds that focused on fire or ice weren’t particularly enticing, nor were the specifically combat-oriented ones. So far their most likely options were exploration guilds, but those were not particularly high profile.

  Punchy Bastards was, though, and the reputation was more than enough to bring them to its central hall on War World Lek, surrounded by mountains that reached tens of miles into the sky. They had to join some organization or another, that much was clear. Beyond the extra costs they needed to pay to use buildings as outsiders, some aspects of the highest ranks were just not available to anyone without an affiliation. Like the resurrections they’d earned.

  Compared to other Guild Halls, it wasn’t ornate and oversized, but someone had clearly put a lot of time and effort in personalizing it. The standard white block had been transformed into a solid-looking building of dark grey metal, with sturdy columns and large windows, albeit ones that were opaque from the outside. There was also some level of sensory obstruction, as they couldn’t tell what was inside, though it didn’t exhibit the obvious wards seen in other cities.

  “Do we just walk up and knock?” Leese asked over the link, and Raine sent back a mental shrug as the pair went to do just that. The door opened at Raine’s touch, swinging open silently in front of them, and the moment they passed the threshold all the protections fell away. They could tell who was inside, and it was more than they had ever expected.

  There were four distinct Alum signatures, as well as a dozen Azoths, in an interior much larger than the exterior would suggest. There were crafting areas, sparring rooms, lounges, bedrooms, and everything that would normally be seen in a city, but arranged inside a Guild Hall. The rooms were brightly lit by not only the suns shining through skylights above, but by windows opening onto other War Worlds — windows that seemed to be portals as well, making the Guild Hall more of a Nexus than most capital cities. The Alum that had suggested they drop by appeared in front of them with a whisper of essence, and they actually had time to [Appraise] him.

  [Shiel-Ruyu the Punchy Bastard – Alum]

  He was a towering figure, approaching twice their height, with four muscular blue arms on an equally blue torso. Unusually, he didn’t seem to be wearing much more than some simple pants and had a white medallion on a bit of twine around his neck, as if having reached the heights of Alum meant that he had outgrown the equipment the System could provide. A shock of white hair and three differently-colored eyes set in an elongated, square-jawed face completed the look, and somehow the expression of ebullient cheer seemed right at home on the broad face.

  “Welcome!” Shiel-Ruyu said, flinging all four arms wide. “I’m glad you decided to show up. You’ll fit right in with the rest of the new blood.”

  “Forgive me, but we still don’t know exactly what this guild is,” Leese said, discarding most of the normal genuflection given to people of higher rank. It was clear Shiel-Ruyu had a different attitude. “We’d like to know more before we actually join.”

  “Oh, of course,” Shiel-Ruyu somehow managed to get behind them and steered them away from the vestibule, not by using Skills but just by sheer grace. Their combat brains were certain of that. “You know how annoying all the other guilds are; all that sniping back and forth and getting higher guild positions and having to do missions and that nonsense. Punchy Bastards is just about being good at being good.”

  A few Skill empowered steps brought them to a central lounge that was styled more like a stretch of woods beside a waterfall, save for the comfortable furniture and a stock of Azoth and Alum-ranked drinks in a stone cabinet rising from the ground. Some of the Azoths and other Alum were relaxing there, just chatting, and with a shock Raine saw that one of them was another human. Not exactly like Cato, as she had a slightly different body shape, long red hair and far more muscles, but she wasn’t the odd golden version like Cato’s cousins, either. Fortunately, the combat brains let her and Leese avoid showing any external emotion at the sight.

  “So you two pop in, you’re Azoth, god-blessed, no faction, no records, which means you did it all yourself.” Shiel-Ruyu crooked two fingers and one of the bottles floated from the cabinet to his grasp, the glasses lining themselves up in the air. “We make this stuff in-house,” he added with a wink as he poured one shot of something pale green and glowing into each of the glasses, taking one of the drinks and letting the other two float to Raine and Leese. “Anyway, you sound like the right fit for us. People who don’t want any nonsense, but are still amenable to helping others out on occasion. You know, dungeons, quests, Feats.”

  “I have to admit, that does sound enticing,” Raine said, taking the drink and exchanging a brief burst of amusement with Leese. Of all people, she was surprised to find an Alum was the least worried about the proprieties of rank, not to mention caring about making drinks that they could have easily afforded to purchase instead. Or maybe she shouldn’t be; in a way it reminded her of Cato, where the realm of power was so great that there was literally nothing to worry about. Shiel-Ruyu was post-propriety, because short of the gods there was nobody who could challenge him.

  “It’s also the only place we’ve seen Alums at all,” Leese mused over the link. “If we want to start tempting them away to Cato’s alternative spaces, we’re going to need that connection. I have to admit I’m also curious how the advantages of the physical changes and the combat-brains stack up to people who got here without them.”

  “I’d love to know where we can go without getting out of our depth,” Raine agreed. “Besides which, having a spare resurrection around would be a massive relief.”

  “Is there anything—” Leese began, but was interrupted as another one of the Alums simply appeared next to them, enormous saucer eyes peering out at them from a great shaggy head.

  “How are you doing that?” He demanded. “I’ve never seen anyone emit that kind of light.”

  Raine blinked, and shared a moment of confused inquiry through the link with Leese, but the Alum pointed at them.

  “There, like that!”

  Instead of replying instantly, the two of them collaborated for a moment through their link. It wasn’t a thing of words, just a rapid back-and-forth in how to address the question, because they had no idea that anyone could detect Cato’s technology. Not that the Alum seemed to understand exactly what it was, and hopefully couldn’t listen in, but he clearly recognized that something was going on. For all that the Alums here seemed less domineering than many high-rankers, they were pretty certain it wasn’t reasonable to just brush the question off.

  “It’s not a Skill,” Raine said after a moment. “It’s something in our bodies and brains. We’ve been able to do it for some time, but I couldn’t tell you how it works. Just that it does.”

  “That’s disappointing,” he said, then narrowed his eyes at them. He didn’t exercise any Skills or flex any essence, but Raine felt a sudden sense of deep foreboding. “You’re not lying, but that’s not everything you know.”

  “Now, Goyle, we all have our own little advantages here,” Shiel-Ruyu said. “You can’t just ask someone for their secrets right off.”

  “Very well,” Goyle said, shaking his shaggy head at the other Alum. “But I want to know! I’m going to figure it out eventually.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Shiel-Ruyu said indulgently, and waved him away.

  “Goyle might be a target for Cato’s recruitment,” Raine mused across their link. “If he really wants to know about radio and the like, that’s exactly Cato’s specialty.”

  “The trick is going to be getting that first Alum on our side. We can fight up almost a rank but these Alums are something else.” The combat brains had been studying the way the higher rank individuals moved the entire time, as well as the essence flows that Raine and Leese could sense, and the preliminary conclusions were chilling. There wasn’t much to go on, but everything absolutely blared danger. Not that they needed more than their instincts to recognize that.

  “Anyway, before you sign up, did you want to try a spar?” Shiel-Ruyu grinned as Raine gave him a skeptical look, and then pointed at the human in the lounge. “Not me, but maybe Lorraine there? She’s new as well, one of the Ahruskians who came in a few years ago.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Lorraine bounced out of her chair, long red hair flowing behind her as she slid across their way. It was difficult to tell what sort of aspect she used, the movement Skill unfamiliar, but the combat brains were certain that she had an augmented base form. Perhaps not quite to the level of Raine and Leese, but certainly more than most System natives.

  “These two are new,” Shiel-Ruyu said, indicating Raine and Leese with two of his arms. “Figured I’d have you try them out with a spar, then go sign them up.”

  “Sure!” Lorraine eyed them up and down, flexing her hands and cycling essence through them. Unusually, it wasn’t just one distinct aspect, but a number of different ones — fire and ice, water and lightning, in pairs. “Could use someone new to try things out with.”

  “You’re Ahruskian?” Leese asked, partly out of politeness and partly to let the combat brains have time to do more analysis. “That must mean you’re new to the System? You’ve come very far in a very short amount of time.”

  “Pretty new,” Lorraine admitted. “A couple decades at this point.”

  “How’d you get so adept so quickly?” Raine asked, picking up on the approach that Leese was intending. “Very few people reach Azoth, after all.”

  “I dunno!” Lorraine said cheerfully, then skipped over to one of the arenas with a lightning-based movement Skill — an entirely different one than the first movement Skill she displayed. Raine and Leese followed after with Shiel-Ruyu trailing at a distance. The Alum seemed entirely happy to let them engage with Lorraine on their own. “I just found myself in the System and it turned out I was really good at it. Kinda scratched an itch I never knew I had.”

  “She definitely doesn’t sound like what Cato was talking about,” Leese sent, referring to Cato’s brief remarks about ‘psychopaths’ and ‘murderhobos.’ “Maybe she’s someone who could be recruited as well.”

  “Perhaps,” Raine conceded, though she felt that exposure to another human was the most dangerous thing they could encounter. They were the most likely to be able to identify any idiosyncrasies as Cato’s technology, or recognize influences from Cato’s improvements or even his knowledge. Neither she nor Leese were as familiar with what he could do as other Lineages, but it was still possible they might let something slip.

  And yet she had to admit that a human as an ally would be incredible. Just by being part of Punchy Bastards it was clear she was an elite, and beyond that a human so successful within the System would surely have insight that nobody else did. Even if she was merely a savant, some amazing combatant who operated entirely on instinct, Lorraine’s status and abilities would help Raine and Leese reach more people.

  Besides which, Cato had loaded them with some supplies specifically for humans, as well as a number of other species. Rations and meals that ought to appeal to their palates, because according to Cato there was no better way to a person’s heart than through their stomach.

  “Anyway, let’s fight,” Lorraine said, bounding into the arena, though the word hardly managed to encompass what the guild house actually had. This particular arena wasn’t merely a circle where people could fight, it was its own miniature world, several hundred square miles of landscape — which was entirely necessary when Azoths clashed. The mountains and valleys within the arena were barely an inconvenience, hardly even a tactical consideration as Raine could easily cut them in half. As could Leese and, presumably, Lorraine.

  Two against one was hardly a fair fight, but this was more for fun and to show Shiel-Ruyu what they could do. Though neither of them wanted to underestimate a human. Even within the System, there was every possibility Lorraine had some advantages that Cato hadn’t ever thought of. Or she could very well be far more skilled than they, and a match for the combat brains and augmented biology despite having only minor advantages.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Better take this at least somewhat seriously,” Raine sent, though she had to strain to remember the last time she sparred anyone but Leese. Most of the time they were genuinely fighting for their lives, though at least against an Azoth it would take a concerted effort to actually do real damage. What might be considered a lethal blow at lower ranks was merely an inconvenience for an Azoth. A touch, drawing blood, essentially. They’d found that out with their fight against Muar’s people, where even spearing someone through the chest didn’t actually kill them. Even a lethal blow might be deflected or mitigated by life-saving artifacts.

  “Yes,” Leese agreed, and the two of them summoned their Skills, ready for a fight.

  ***

  Neyar watched the coming and goings of his four worlds, the peoples on them, the foreigners flitting through the portals, the flows of essence to and from dungeons and conflict zones. One way or another, it was all coming to an end. He flexed his claws, wishing he could tear someone apart and solve it all, but his opponent wasn’t just one fellow Deity. It was the control of the Core World themselves, and what that could do to his people.

  He had been wrestling with the temptation to go to them and bargain what he knew about Cato, Initik, and Mii-Es in return for being left alone. It would have been easy, and the Nine Great Clans would have been hard-pressed to turn down such an exchange. Their own policy on Cato’s presence meant they’d have to accede to Neyar’s demands.

  But easy solutions rarely worked well. As much as he just wanted to return to the way things were before, he had been through such seismic shifts in the past. Ignoring them never worked, and there was no such thing as going back. There was only navigating the hazards, or shaping them. He knew Misse, and even if there was some agreement that got the Core Worlds to leave him alone, such a settlement would only endure while it was useful to her. Which was not likely to be long.

  She also wasn’t likely to leave their new weapon unused. Now that the ability to expunge the worlds of gods they didn’t like had been allowed by the Great Clans, it would not be buried again. Not until there were no targets left but the Clans themselves. It was simply too great a temptation with no costs for those who grew fat on the largesse of the True Core.

  Which left Cato and his offer, which had been far different than Neyar had expected. Though perhaps he should have known better, if Initik and Mii-Es were tempted. There was no assurance of everything he ever wanted, no promise of riches or power. If anything, there was only the promise of a lot of difficult work in rebuilding and retraining, learning alternate ways of doing things, and struggling with a populace that would be utterly lost for purpose.

  The most disturbing thing about Cato’s world, however, was how malleable it made things like reality and people themselves. It was actually possible to move to something very similar to the System — or a System entirely different. More guidance, or less. People could be duplicated, frozen in time, sped up to spend thousands of years in a moment.

  None of which actually mattered to Neyar’s subjects, but might matter to Neyar himself. Cato had made it quite clear that empowering Neyar with his so-called technology was the preferred path, which meant it was he who must bear the burden of knowing how volatile reality was. Of knowing everything that he could give to his people, if he thought it could benefit them — and what he was withholding, because it was too dangerous or too powerful for those who had not demonstrated they could handle it. A heavy burden that could not be relegated to simple ranks and fighting prowess.

  Neyar turned away from his scry-views and dropped to four limbs to run, once again racing along the tall mountains and deep valleys, the plunging waterfalls and barren deserts of his system space. He always thought better when he ran, and the surroundings reminded him of his origins, so very long ago. Unfortunately it didn’t make his decision any easier or the weight of knowledge any lighter. Even a clear mind wasn’t enough to simplify such weighty considerations.

  So far he hadn’t made a decision, but he already knew which way he was leaning. To take Cato’s offer required certain changes to be made; as Cato had pointed out, some features of the planet would result in untold devastation if they were not changed first. Floating mountains, certain ocean layers, enormous caverns that hollowed out entire mountains — these things had to be adjusted prior to the transition from the System to Cato’s reality.

  Some of the more subtle ones, he had already made. It cost him little, especially when ultimately he would be losing almost all his stock of essence one way or another. He stopped at the top of a frigid mountain, watching the wind slowly erase his footprints from the snow, and reflected how strangely freeing it was to not have to plan for the future. Everything he had could be spent, because it’d be irrelevant very shortly.

  He took in a long breath of frozen air and then returned to his home and its scryviews with a thought, appearing without a flicker and looking over his worlds. The strangest thing to think about, of the options Cato had offered, was that he could be duplicated to all the worlds and the lack of portals between them would be no issue. Each of him would have his own world to manage, but it would be a him. Not a clone, not a puppet – both of which were Skills he knew and understood – but a full and independent him, which was still hard to believe.

  According to Cato, his worlds were almost neighbors, as ridiculous as that sounded given the distances. It would still take months or years for messages to be passed back and forth, and travel would be impractical, but they wouldn’t be entirely cut off and forever wondering what had happened. The same wasn’t true for the rest of the worlds Cato would be taking at the same time, should Neyar agree, though Neyar could not quite wrap his mind around the locations and distances described.

  He eyed the communications device sitting on the table in his foyer, then scowled as his Interface chimed at him. Once again he had guests, but not the sort he wished to see. More Clan visitors, but not merely the soft, administrative representatives. One of them was a [Greater Core Deity] of the Hokar Clan, and mere weeks after the previous visit. For them, that was a reckless, headlong rush, likely trying to capitalize upon the still-fresh disturbance of the Tornok Clan’s purge.

  Neyar flexed his claws and considered not letting them in, but he could feel the duties of his station compelling him. The responsibilities he had shouldered as guardian were not lightly cast aside. As distasteful as he found the Clan types, he had to at least see what they wanted. Unless, of course, he wanted to scramble against the Core deciding to expunge his worlds.

  He appeared in the orange valley he used to meet outsiders, summoning a small pavilion before allowing the visiting gods into his System Space. They walked in through a rent in the air, and while the two that he had ejected before looked uncomfortable, [Core Greater Deity Kolokol] seemed entirely at home as he took a seat at the pavilion. The Clan Hokar deity’s narrow skull and wide-set ears still made him look like he was set in a state of permanent contempt, which rather fit the general attitude of his type.

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Deity Neyar,” Kolokol said, attempting a smile and managing only a vague facsimile. Neyar suspected Kolokol had not truly smiled in centuries. “This is, as you can imagine, a rather urgent matter.”

  “Is it?” Neyar knew he didn’t have to be diplomatic, not really. Not only was it not in him to lick the boots of people who were so very obviously his lesser, but having an alternate way out meant that he could push as hard as he wished. “I have been independent for over a hundred thousand years. This so-called threat is barely a few decades old and is on the other side of the System besides. All I see is that Clan Hokar is jealous of my success.”

  “That is certainly not the case,” Kolokol lied unconvincingly. “It is simply that Cato’s presence cannot be easily found, and given the chance he could spread unchecked. We cannot risk anyone or anything within the Inner Worlds being vulnerable to that kind of infiltration.”

  “And you are accusing me of being so careless or incompetent that I would allow Cato to spread unchecked on my worlds?” Neyar scoffed, though if he was to believe Cato, the opportunity to deny a foothold had come and gone. The strange, outside-System being had not disclosed exactly how and when he had infiltrated Neyar’s worlds, but he seemed entirely confident that he could deploy the necessary forces to sever them from the System.

  But not without Neyar’s help, which was a bit of a salve to his ego. At the very least it was clear that Neyar’s opposition could utterly destroy Cato’s ability to prosecute a war on Neyar’s territory, so Cato wasn’t simply dictating terms. Cooperating with Cato rather than being conquered was far more palatable, and Neyar had no illusions that Cato had not recognized the same. In fact, he might well be understating his capabilities in order to give Neyar the illusion of having the upper hand. The primary difference between Cato and the Core Worlds was that Cato’s negotiations began and ended with the well-being of Neyar’s people, and even if that tact was pure political calculation it was still effective.

  “Your competence is not at issue here,” Kolokol replied, unruffled. “It is an issue of the divine System’s integrity! In the face of some outsider that intends to kill even gods, we have no choice but to band together, and hold ourselves to the highest standards. I do not wish to issue threats, but with your intransigence it does make me wonder whether you are working with the enemy. I have heard rumors that many of our less faithful members are.”

  That much, Neyar knew, was the work of Mii-Es and her allies. Spreading rumors that literally everyone was working with Cato was a double-edged sword; it effectively invalidated Misse’s original accusations that targeted deities like Meshan and himself, but it created a general air where everyone was at least a little bit suspected. Good for Cato, or anyone on the fringes, but easily turned on those near the Core. He could hardly blame them for that; it was a smokescreen that protected many, including himself. If they had known he was in contact with Cato, the meeting would be rather different.

  “It hardly concerns me what gossip passes among the idle hands of the Nine Great Clans,” Neyar told Kolokol. “What concerns me is the welfare of my people and my worlds, and I am having no trouble at all. Your worries about Cato don’t affect me; I’m hardly going to be fighting against your phantom from without the System.”

  “But if you won’t fight him, how can we be certain you are even on the side of the divine?” Kolokol clasped his hands together and regarded Neyar with what was probably supposed to be compassion. “We are concerned with the welfare of our people and our worlds, and we cannot leave someone vulnerable in our midst! Surely you realize that such a thing cannot stand in the current crisis.”

  “You put together words as if they were reality instead of what I can see — avarice and naked greed. My worlds are mine, and if you were so invested in their security, you would invite me into your clan and grant me the position I would deserve, that of an Elder Deity.” Neyar challenged Kolokol. He was hardly interested in such a position, but it was at least an out. An option for the Great Clan to show they were serious about the threat and not just avaricious.

  Kolokol’s eyes flickered, the opaque haze that covered them lifting long enough to show uncertainty before he settled back into his bland, diplomatic persona. Neyar wasn’t fooled; as a Greater Deity Kolokol certainly had done his fair share of backstabbing to get where he was and realized the challenge Neyar posed. It would be a grave insult to incorporate Neyar as anything but a leader of the Clan, but nobody would dare to allow such an outsider to have that degree of power. Unless they were truly serious about how dire the situation was.

  “It seems somewhat churlish to attempt to take advantage of us in such a state of emergency,” Kolokol replied after a brief pause. “Besides which, I do not have the authority to make any such agreement. It seems more like some attempt to stall for time, or present us as the unreasonable ones in this exchange.”

  “Which you are,” Neyar said, not interested in any sort of diplomacy. “There is nothing you can possibly offer which is worth my people. My people. To you these planets are a strategic location, to me they are my home, my work, my lineage. Would you cede the world of Hokar to me in exchange? I very much doubt it.”

  “I take it, then, that you have no intention of engaging with an agreement to merge your worlds with those of the Hokar Clan?” Kolokol asked, unperturbed. “We have very little time left before we will have to move regardless. This is not a threat that can be left for overlong.”

  “Give me three weeks,” Neyar growled, doubling the timeline that Cato had given him for the best transition.

  “You have two,” Kolokol said. “As I said, it is a matter of some urgency.”

  “Very well,” Neyar said, and waved his hand, expelling the three from his private space and from his presence. Then he sat and stared at the sky of his private space before decisively turning and taking a step into his dwelling, activating the communications device. It connected to a place in a small outpost on his homeworld, as he traced the essence flow, which housed a single Copper. Not Cato’s natural, Ahruskian appearance, but a facsimile of Neyar’s own race. Neyar would have been insulted if it weren’t obvious the purpose was to shroud Cato’s presence from their mutual enemies.

  “We have a week,” he informed Cato. Fortunately for Neyar’s peace of mind, Cato didn’t gloat or smile, merely nodded and produced some sheets of material bearing words and pictures.

  “I can begin moving immediately. Here are checklists for each piece of landscape at issue, for your worlds and the surrounding ones should you decide to take control of them.” While Neyar would be done with the System, Cato would not, and the strategic implications meant that it was not only Neyar’s worlds he would be severing. Neyar understood that, but cared little about the fates of those other worlds. “I assume you want to reconstruct your System Space?”

  “Yes,” Neyar said, glancing around at the home he’d lived in ever since he had ascended, century upon century and millennium upon millennium. “I would.”

  “Is anything in there base matter, or is it all composed of essence?” Cato asked. “I can work with either, but I have to know.”

  “Everything is of divine creation,” Neyar said stiffly, unused to and uncomfortable with the idea of a difference between the two.

  “Fully digital it is, then,” Cato said. “I’ll be sending a pod directly over this town in a few hours. If you could bring that inside your System Space, we can get to work.”

  Once things were decided, Cato moved swiftly — something Neyar appreciated. The initial pod arrived in a few hours, and Cato pointed out where the large bulk of his forces were, approaching from the outer darkness and still several days away. An unusual amount of trust, but it accorded with what Cato’s actual goal seemed to be. The removal of the System, with no interest in moving against people — or usurping Neyar’s power.

  Bringing the capsule Cato mentioned into his Space, he bestowed the blessing of Chosen on the Cato within so that he might traverse Neyar’s landscape without issue. He could of course sense everything within Cato’s creation, but that didn’t mean he quite understood what it was for — at least until the capsule blossomed open like a flower and millions of insects billowed upward like a cloud.

  “They’ll record everything you have here,” Cato said without needing the question asked. “So I can create it later on. Transcribing you is going to be trickier, but I learned from last time. The harder part is going to be easing people over. I have less experience with that, sadly.”

  “My priests will listen to me,” Neyar said, considering how chillingly casual Cato was about taking over entire worlds — not as a god, just a transfer of ownership, but of completely saturating it with his forces and eradicating the System itself. Yet for Cato, it must be the natural thing, just as simple a process as the one gods used to trade worlds. “So long as I couch this as a new challenge, a striking out against the forces beyond our own worlds.”

  “Oh, excellent!” Cato looked incredibly relieved at that, though he grimaced a moment later. “I’ll need a way to transmit that to my other selves. We can coordinate a leaflet campaign. One that might actually work, this time. Any material support I can offer. This is going to be hard, so the more we prepare them the easier it’ll be.”

  “Then we begin,” Neyar said, touching his Interface and issuing quests to all his high-rankers who were not on his worlds to return, though he had long ensured that he kept them as close and as anchored as possible to their homes. Soon enough they would be embarking on a far different and greater venture. He had decided to take the approach that Cato called an angelnet, where many of the trappings of the System would remain, such as quests and task guidance, but the ultimate ends of what could be achieved were far more vast and expansive than what the System could offer.

  Between certain destruction and an uncertain future, there was no choice at all.

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