As the sun rose on a new day, Brock rested in the seating of his favourite bakery, a Danish in hand and many more in his stomach. Each bite rewarded him with a burst of sweet custard, tickling his taste buds and skyrocketing his cholesterol. He didn’t mind, however, as the food was just too good.

It had been nice to catch up with Carrie, with them having had quite an illuminating talk the day before. While the info about how the System’s levelling could work – could – was relatively useful, it didn’t really affect him, as he neither knew a trade nor did he plan to train one. It was too much work when he could just go out and stomp a few heads instead.

Though, maybe he could pick one up. It’d give him something to do, as he didn’t plan on killing things forever. Already he was beginning to enjoy the relaxing life.

That aside, today was meant to be the day Carrie was discharged from the hospital, her wounds having been deemed recovered. And as he really didn’t have much else to do, apart from eat, all he was doing now was waiting. The pastries of Beatrice’s Bakery were quite an enjoyable companion, though he was getting rather bored.

He couldn’t ponder on his Augments, or train his use of them and his Techniques, which he actually wanted to do for the interesting effects it’d afford them. He wasn’t even needed to help defend the city from monsters and it made him wonder if the warriors here regularly culled the populations, or if civilisation scared the monsters away.

He supposed he could train up Oppressive Might, but he didn’t know if he needed direct combat to do so and the aura usage was also extremely high. He knew that when he attained the Technique’s first mutation, he’d select Efficiency in a heartbeat. He could only dream of the day when it was so efficient that he was an effortless telekinetic when using the Technique.

For now, though, he’d just settle here and eat this utterly delectable Danish. It was the perfect fusion of pastry and custard, possessing an equilibrium of the go-

“Hey.”

“FUCK!” Brock jolted as a voice resounded from behind, and his Danish tumbled out from his hands and splattered on the ground. Slowly, he glanced at it, then turned around.

Behind him was Mio, shadows sloughing off from her form. She raised a brow and glanced at the Danish, before looking at Brock’s incredulous expression and snorting, “Whoops.”

“I was enjoying that.”

“Like I said, ‘whoops’.” Mio returned a smug smile, one that effortlessly portrayed not an inch of apology. Brock grumbled and pulled another Danish from his paper bag. This one appeared to have blueberry jam inside. He licked his lips expectantly.

His female companion took that as a sign to sit, and sat herself beside Brock, looking at him eat his food curiously. He gulped down a bite and glowered at her, “Mine.”

She cocked a brow and shrugged like she didn’t care. Satisfied, Brock finished the delicious pastry and reached into the bag only to realise it was the last one. He spared a glance for the Danish splattered on the ground, and for a moment, he seriously considered if the dirt would be so bad.

It’d be like… stale cinnamon.

“So, what’s up? Why’re you here?” Brock eventually decided against it and turned to Mio, who was making the vague shapes of weapons out of the shadows with her powers. Some were actually quite accurate of what she was trying to portray, and he had to admit she had an immense amount of control over the darkness.

The woman glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, “I’m recovered. I can take you back to ‘Sanctuary’, if you want me to.”

Immediately, Brock’s expression brightened, “Cool. Just lemme see Carrie first; she’s getting discharged today.”

Mio nodded and fell back into the shadows, which devoured her greedily off her chair, “I’ll be there when you need me.”

And then she was gone, leaving Brock more than a little unnerved by the way she disappeared. He glanced over in the direction of the hospital, then back to the shadow she melded into. He sighed and got to walking.

**

His shadowy lady friend turned out to have just teleported herself straight to Carrie’s hospital room, and after helping his old co-worker out the building – her legs being weak from her lack of recent walking – they led her to her house, a nice little abode, and told her they’d be back later. She had plenty of food and water, and apparently there was always a ‘shadow scout’, as Mio called them, waiting near all their warriors.

It was slightly creepy, and he was sure it violated some sort of privacy law, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was a bit leery about leaving Carrie alone when she was fresh from the hospital, but Mio didn’t have the capability to bring her with them, nor did the blonde woman have the current health for it, and he was itching to check on Harry and Fon.

He had asked Carrie what her race level was in passing though and turns out it was actually higher than his own, much to the delight of his initial prediction. It meant that he could unload all the Treasures he had got his hands on to his other two companions. He’d have to pluck out the seeds first, but either way it was a boon to them.

Unfortunately, he knew he’d forget to do both the former and latter.

In the end, as they left the street that Carrie lived on, Mio led him to a patch of shadows cast by the ornate rooftops, and they rose up to meet them, quickly consuming the duo and depositing them in the realm of black.

Once more, an extremely disorientating teleportation ensued, and Brock found himself standing in the middle of what he had been told was the ‘city square’ of sort. A quick glance around showed no noticeable changed to the place, but he supposed you couldn’t do much to a rundown city in a week or so anyway.

There were a few people out and about, however, and they did look far happier than he’d seen people before he’d left, although a grim sombreness had overtaken the atmosphere. A lot of people died recently. And it’s… well it’s kinda my fault…

Brock felt pang of guilt.

As they went about their days, they spared a glance his way before moving on. Then they froze. They looked at him again, and while the people that appeared to be civilians were rather horrified by his abrupt appearance, the warriors charged up to him with fervour.

Before he could react, Brock was captured in the beefy arms of a warrior. Then another joined from behind, and another. Until he was suddenly in a group hug of around seven people, all cheering his name and thanking him for what he had done for them. As they began to loosen up, Brock sighed in relief.

“You have no idea what you’ve done for this place.” One said off to the left. His face was beaming with gratitude. A scar adorned the side of his jaw.

Another to his right seemed at a loss for words, “J… just thank you. For everything.”

“You gave us a chance.” A woman spoke to him. Like him, she was missing an arm.

Brock gave an awkward smile, “Uh… you’re all welcome. I… was just doing what I thought was right.”

Immediately, he regretted what he said, as he saw sparks of not just respect but admiration flare in the eyes of these people at his words. He resisted the urge to facepalm, and as the second slew of grateful words paused, he spoke out again, “Do any of you know where Harry and Fon is? I’m looking for them.”

One of the gruffer looking men turned around a called out for someone named Jimmy, who poked his head out of a building a second later. Upon being commanded by the warrior to get Fon and Harry – their names spoken with a similar amount of respect for his own – the guy ran as fast as he could and disappeared down a side street.

As they once again indulged themselves in his presence, Brock desperately looked for Mio. He found her sitting atop a roof, her delicate legs dangling over the edge as she watched his predicament with a wide smile. It was something that looked relatively out of place on her usually stoic face, but he still pleaded at her with his eyes, nonetheless.

The bitch laughed.

Soon though, the crowd around him dispersed to make way as two new people arrived in the town square. Immediately, Brock recognised their faces and the expressions on their own lit up explosively.

“Brock!” Harry charged forward, and his target was helpless to resist as a Strength of over 500 bulldozed him to the ground. The teenager didn’t seem to care, however, and hugged the man tightly.

He smiled, and Fon leaned over them, a small grin donned across her face, “We missed you. It’s good to have you back.”

There wasn’t much Brock could say, as Harry’s arms where quite literally squeezing the oxygen from his lungs like they were yoghurt tubes. Quickly, Fon realised and ushered the kid off of him, and she helped him back to his feet. He noticed there were the warriors gathered around and that they were watching their reuniting, but he chose to let them.

“It’s good to see you guys too.” Brock finally responded, “How’re things going?”

His two companions led him away from the retinue of people, who respected their privacy and went on about their days, and a long-winded talk ensued. Apparently, after Gor’eth Kung, over fifty people had died and forty six for had varying degrees of injury.

Other than that, they weren’t privy to too many of the specifics on the town’s plans going forth and said he should ask Margo as she was wanting to talk to him about it all anyway.

Why she wanted to talk to him, he had no clue.

For the most part, they had told him of their own experience here. Mainly, it involved help in harvesting the left-over monster parts and other minor projects within the town. They also did some training with the soldiers overseen by the new head of the warriors, a Russian woman named Anastasia who was also apparently one of the highest levelled people here following the final fight for Sanctuary.

That aside, compared to when he had last seen her, Fon had filled out significantly from her previously bony and malnourished state. She looked far healthier, and quite a bit prettier, though Brock didn’t really take much notice of that aspect. He was just glad she wasn’t starving like she had been before.

Fon had made mention of the strange energies in his pathways that Kim had told him of, although she didn’t seem to have any solution for them either. She didn’t know if they’d dissipate naturally either as she still had very little experience in the field of energies, so all Brock could do was wait and see at this point.

They did see quite a few more warriors as they walked, and they always seemed giddy to have seen them. It was like they were celebrities, a fact which Brock dreaded sincerely. What he took more notice of, however, was the dark green plate armour they were wearing. It had replaced the metal armour he had supplied and was similar to the chitin he had seen on Iz’ Takon.

Not every warrior had some, but most did, and he could tell supplying it to all was a work in progress.

Eventually, though, Margo found them and cut their meeting short, “Brock? I’ve been looking everywhere for you since I heard you came back.”

His scratched the back of his head, “Yeah sorry, we were kinda avoiding all the attention.”

“Ah. Of course.” She nodded as though she understood him perfectly, “I don’t mean to intrude, but there’s something I want to show you.”

Brock shrugged, “Lead the way then.”

What followed was a rather silent trek toward the wall as Brock eyed the town. The people seemed livelier and as they went about their days, they had hope. He could see it in their eyes and in the way they moved. It was how he knew that he had made the right decision back then, when he chose to see this place through to the end.

Although, among them, he also saw people that were struggling, their eyes tearful and minds clearly upon those who had died; friends, family. He gritted his teeth and looked to the front.

From what he could see they approached, the wall was identical to how it was before, aside from a few stone reinforcements and the addition of several sets of dedicated stairs ascending to the top. As they climbed up them and stepped atop the wall, Brock was instantly met with a sight of pure destruction.

It had seemed large up close, sure, but as he stood back here, a kilometre or so away, it really put the destruction into perspective. A chasm, easily three times as wide as the town itself, stretched onward into the horizon, probably a dozen or so kilometres long. A vast darkness populated its depths and at the very end, the corpse of Gor’eth Kung hung dead, wedged tightly between the stone.

A little ways off to the side of that was a mound of decayed flesh and softened chitin, probably the remains of Iz’ Takon, and small splotches of rotting innards and chitin dotted the landscape, being the exploded corpses of the Tyrant’s minions. Idly, he glanced to the side as Margo spread her arms wide.

“I want to welcome you to the city of King’s Cavity,” she regarded him with an excited smile, “Aptly named, wouldn’t you say?”

Brock nodded absentmindedly. It certainly was a king-sized cavity. Truly. But he found that his attention wasn’t fully upon Margo. It was centred upon the darkness in the chasm. It… seemed to beckon him.

To call him and embrace him as its own.