Jury had called every Pseudo-Slayer (saved Leona, who was resting) to a meeting about the future of Black Paladin Station, held in what Hidden called their “ramshackle of a base”. A chest-high wall of cardboard boxes partitioned their lovely, homely base from the rest of the station, outfitted in what barebones equipment they had. Though Alexander spotted a few rituals; must be communication rituals drawn by Problem.

Montana, the team’s fighter, stood off to the side, donned in his pale yellow knight-crested armor. Gemstones were slotted in various places, probably giving him various enhancements to his abilities. A crystalline battleax as tall as children was strapped to his back. If his name hadn’t spoiled it already, he was an American from the great nowhere state of Montana and looked it. He had a lineman’s face and hair as brown as dirt, and a physique that reminded Alexander of Dad.

Jury had rightfully placed herself at the front, in command of this shambles, and you couldn’t tell she was Otherguard. Typically, people imagined Otherguards to be old, rough, and nothing but scars and spoke nihilism as easily as breathing. No, Jury was none of that. She was a mature beauty well into her thirties, and although her mocha braid had nearly come undone, resolve shone in her gray, steady eyes. She dressed herself in a crimson robe with long sleeves, perhaps inspired by Lady Justice herself, and on her hip was a pearl-blade, her [Arbiter].

She whispered something to Problem, then nodded, then tapped a holographic device on a high table. It brought up a translucent blue screen flashing various photos: of locations, many of which Alexander recognized. One especially as Ordo University. Then, another series of photos appeared: a lanky entity wearing a tattered robe, who wielded a scarlet scepter. The same demon that had opened up portals when the disaster began.

“Now,” began Jury, “before I update you on the situation with Black Paladin Station, I have information to share regarding our mutual enemies. Typically, we do not divulge this information to civilians but these are special times. This thing here…” Jury pointed at the cloaked figure, “...is one of the captains belonging to the Cosmos Caller, who we shall designate as ‘Caller A’. Various civilians and military personnel had identified its most worrying ability: interuniversal portals. Caller A is responsible for countless of attacks within Dawns. As of right now, we cannot estimate the extent of its portal creation.

“Scouts are currently watching Caller A’s movement throughout Dawns. They predict it’s preparing to launch a large-scale attack on Pillar Dawns within the next couple of days. As a result…” Jury tapped the device, bringing images of Pillar dawns to the forefront, “...Seraph and our Guild Master, Archknell, had tasked Team Luster to lead the operation against Caller A. As a result, we have to leave Black Paladin Station. In our place, the Army will alleviate our position and provide protection for you and the rest of the refugees present.

“For you, Pseudo-Slayers, you are in a rather unique position. While most of you are low-ranked, you still have the power to help. Valuable infrastructure is either damaged or destroyed, we will have severe shortages in the coming days, the number of wounded will rise with every hour, and a myriad of other problems. So please, consider this as a personal plea: use your temporary power and help us in any shape or form. Although your deeds may be small, it will bring us one step closer to ending the crisis.

“The Ordoian government had given the General of the Army and Seraph full authority to bring peace back to our city. It is only right that we follow their commands.”

A hidden implication revealed itself between Jury’s words, something subtle that most didn’t catch probably. Alexander had read about it before. There was a distinct possibility, perhaps likely in the coming days, that the General of the Army and Seraph will conscript all Pseudo-Slayers to participate in Ordo’s liberation. What Jury had asked was not a personal plea, but rather a warning: please help, or we will have to force you.

Alexander tightened. He hoped the disaster wouldn’t go that far. If it had, disorder will surely rise.

Jury continued, “You will remain here a Black Paladin Station; when the Army arrives, please listen to the commanding officer and obey. They are privy to information that you are not. Disobeying them may get yourself or others hurt, or in the worst case, killed. I cannot stress this enough. The situation is changing every second. Now…”

The debriefing didn’t last that much longer. Some Pseudos had questions and some complained; Jury handled herself with steadfast composure, as expected from an Otherguard. Overall, it took about twelve minutes for the briefing to end, and when the Pseudos had drifted, she eyed Alexander. Damien and Kirk too. They had to stay back.

Montana sighed and stood next to the entrance, glaring at any nosy Pseudos who thought to eavesdrop. They scattered.

“You have special orders for us?” Alexander asked, polite.

Jury leaned against the table, tapping the plastic in no particular rhythm. “Something like that. I informed Sage about your party and what happened in System Articles. More importantly, about your friends. Now, Ahn is still a Zero, and I’m certain they can make a special case for Fayer, yourself even as well, but Sage also informed me about the protocols regarding that.

“We—both the military and the Slayers—cannot force any of the Zeroes to go.”

“To Prim Zero, right?”

“Correct, to Primordial Zero. While we prioritize the safety of all Zeroes, we legally cannot, well—”

“You can’t kidnap us,” concluded Damien.

Jury chuckled and nodded. “Yes, we can’t kidnap you. I’m telling you this because Sage informed Seraph, and Seraph anticipated that you may reject the offer. She said this: ‘If they want to help, let them.’”

“You’re seriously asking us to help?” asked Alexander. “I’m guessing it’s not the same ‘help’ you described to the others. No offense to you but if you haven’t noticed, we’re all E-Ranks here.”

“Well, Leona Ahn is the daughter of Hwaseong Heavens, and Damien Fayer is the eldest son of Duskfire. And you, Alexander Shen, Seraph had personally vouched that you will be a welcomed addition. Against, of course, Caller A.”

“Huh?” ‘A welcomed addition’? Does it have to do with that meeting I’m supposed to have with her on Friday?

Problem inquired, “I wonder how you managed to earn Seraph’s good graces. Perhaps she had scouted you from the beginning.”

“I’m asking myself the same question, but…” Alexander turned to Damien, but he shrugged, “...You know what, I’ll get an answer later. You’re not kidding though, right? You seriously want us to fight against Caller A?”

“Mhm. I intentionally left a piece of information out earlier, about our transfer.” She tapped the screen, showing an image of Ordo University. “We will be sent to Ordo University. It has recently been reclaimed and will be our new base of operations. I hadn’t mentioned it to the others in fear they may clamor and ask to come, which will lead to transportation issues.”

Ordo University, that’s awfully convenient. I wonder how the juniors are doing. I wonder if Vernon’s okay. “I have a question—”

“Before you make your decision, I spoke with Colonel Nudds, who’s currently residing over OU. He has a personal list of civilians present, including a Zero who you’re quite familiar with: Finch, or Vernon Hugo.”

Damien whistled. “He didn’t get himself killed.”

Alexander sighed in relief. “Thank God for that… Anything else?”

“There is.” Jury smiled, and for a moment he was suspicious. He didn't know Jury all that well, but somehow, he knew what she'd say next: “Your sister’s there, Shen.”

“Jesus Christ…” Alexander’s legs went weak, collapsing into themselves. Damien jumped to catch him but Alexander managed to find his balance, muttering, “I’m fine. I’m fine. I got this—I’m fine.” He took a few seconds to breathe. In and out, in and out. He felt lighter. A good kind of lighter, not passing out lighter or catching-on-fire lighter. God, imagine how Leona will react when she hears this. She’ll be ecstatic.

“Shen,” chimed Kirk. Alexander had forgotten he was here too. “You doing okay?”

Alexander nodded several more times than necessary, but yes, he was more than okay. “Yeah no, yeah, I’m doing okay. Fuck, I’m great, I—Jesus, she’s not hurt, right? She’s fine? I can still punish her?”

Jury answered, “She’s fine, but she was lucky according to Hugo. Do you want me to tell you? It might scare you.”

“I’ve dealt with scarier.”

“If you insist. Your sister fled Julius High School after ghouls had swarmed it, escaping to Arch Catholic Church. Within the hour, it was attacked by the same ghouls. In forty-five minutes, the church fell. Your sister, reportedly, fled before the collapse and managed to escape to Ordo University by herself. She was lucky. Well, maybe I should rephrase that: she was smart.”

“Good God…” Alexander rubbed his mouth. Althea didn’t like listening to authority; this was the best time she disobeyed. “Good fucking God. Finally some good news. I mean, shit, I mean I have to go to OU now. I don’t know about Damien or Leo, but I have to go.”

“And the question reminds: Will you help us, Shen? I will warn you: you’ll do more than just guarding or patrolling Ordo University. Seraph had put her trust in you. I wonder how far you are willing to go with that. I need your answer now.”

“I…” He looked down at his palms, calloused and dirt-caked and pink. He had survived weeks in Hangzhou, most of it alone with Althea, most of it awake with her sleeping, quivering each time a shadow perked up. He was a rat in the streets. Stealing trash, stealing from corpses, from those restlessly asleep and on the verge of death, and sometimes the living, who’d catch him and he’d scurry off. He had killed men before, counted them: seven. The first was a man with a knife, shot him dead. Next was one with a pipe and shattered his leg, and the bastard got shot too. He spent the entire day cowering in the dark with Althea, waiting for the potion to kick in. And the fifth. The fifth was the worst. While Alexander was out scavenging, the man had found Althea. Alone. Before the worst could happen, Alexander broke his fingers beating him, savagely, to death.

A hundred times he could’ve done something different. Something better. He couldn’t know what he had done better, but something, and oftentimes he ruminated on these uncertain possibilities, roads that he had ignored, and became obsessive. Uncle Ali had told him a piece of wisdom one time, after he moved on: you could never know the paths you never took.

Surely, Alexander thought, he’d love the promise of safety and security, but regret pinged him. If he told himself it was out of responsibility, out of the love of Ordo, he’d be lying. It was exactly that: regret, a want for repentance, to feel closer to Mom and Dad. It was selfish, but wasn’t that the name of man?

“...I’ll help you slay Caller A,” Alexander answered. “I’ll help. I don’t know about Damien and Leona, Kirk even, but that’s their decision. Not mine. I will help.”

“Heh, I’m staying here, kid,” Kirk said. “To help keep order.”

Damien responded after, “And my decision is the same as yours, Alex. I don’t like the idea of hiding when I could be doing something to help. I’m sure Leo will say the same thing.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “she definitely would. That’s our answer, Jury. We’re coming to OU with Team Luster.”

Hidden clapped, smiling. “Hurray, congratulations on being genuine Slayers!”

“They’ll certainly perform better than you,” commented Problem.

“Hey…”

Montana chuckled. “Play nice. We don’t wanna scare ‘em off already.”

Jury smiled as well, extending her hand. “Like what Hidden said: you’re no longer a Pseudo from this point on.”

“Take care of me.” Alexander shook her hand.

***

An hour later, the Army had arrived. They flooded the station with much needed personnel and supplies. The civilians, although taken aback by the newfound chaos, felt relief, finally having security. Some chased after officers, asking them about their loved ones and their homes, but none received full answers, only to “wait”. A few, however, caused some minor scuffles but none were quite serious. Most of the Pseudos had listened to Jury’s plea and helped out wherever they could.

Team Luster busied themselves with settling matters and shuffling equipment to and from the trucks. Jury ensured that the commanding officers were well-informed of Black Paladin Station’s state: from the state of the infracture to the supplies they already had. She noted a few persons of interest and personally gave a list of all Pseudos that were staying.

For Team Alexander, as Leona and Damien affectionately called it, they prepared themselves for the ride ahead. Problem had visited Leona and gave her a quick summary of the meeting; as expected, she was joining the ride to Ordo University. On the [Map], a mechanic of the Slayer System, they zoomed in on their destination. Soon. Soon they’ll take a truck or a humvee and meet with Althea and Vernon. Then, Alexander will scold them and hug them. Well, maybe not Vernon, but definitely Althea. Definitely her.

Despite being stabbed hours prior, Leona had a timely recovery. The potions worked incredibly well despite being [Minor Healing Potions]. Although she had a few sprangs of pain, she was effectively back to normal; however, Problem advised her to not perform any strenuous activity just in case.

Anyway, Leona was busy carrying heavy boxes of clothes to the refugees. They were on the main line, overlooking the tunnels. The trains practically disappeared, so it was nothing but darkness on both ends.

Alexander frowned, watching his partner. She delivered one to a ragged group of ten, making small talk before fetching another crate. Before she could get her hands on one, she felt two hands on top of hers and a chiding click of a tongue. “Leo, I thought Problem told you to take it easy. Lifting boxes is not taking it easy. Literally the opposite.”

“Excuse me? Did you forget that I’m a Pseudo too? These boxes, thanks to my Power, are actually pretty light. I can probably carry five of them at once if I wanted to,” she said.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Well, did you forget that I’m technically the Party Leader? In other words, you’re supposed to listen to me. And I’m telling you that you should sit down and wait until Jury calls us.”

“You’re being annoying, Alex—”

“Congratulations, you know how Althea feels most of the time.” He ushered her towards a nearby bench. She tried to push back but she got herself cornered, having the back of her knees hitting polished wood. “Sit.”

“I’m perfectly fine; you can stop coddling me—”

“Sit—”

“Sweetheart.”

“What?” Alexander said, confused, and looked around. “Althea isn’t here right now—”

Leona smirked and stepped forward, pushing him back. “I know, I’m talking to you.”

“Oh.” A soft warmth beamed in his cheeks.

“Mhm. I understand that you want me to take it easy, but I’m fine. I’m good as new.”

“Leo, I—”

“We interrupting something?” Montana introduced himself into the conversation. He had a cheeky smile; glad to know that people still had a sense of humor, no matter how annoying they may be. “You two ready? Jury’s gonna call it in about ten minutes, so think about heading up. With the roadblocks we have, it’ll take about an hour to get to OU.”

Leona nodded. “Thank you for telling us. How’s it like being in Glory by the way? Is Archknell treating you well?”

“He’s kinder than you’d expect despite, you know, having ‘Deathweaver’ as a title. Yeah, he’s treating us well. But I have to say: it’s amazing seeing good people like you stepping up. From the bottom of my heart, on God, you have my thanks. I’ll fight with you any time.”

Alexander smiled. “Someone has to help, right—?”

A cracking pop echoed, clattering against the walls.

Everyone turned to the tunnels. Another pop. Another right after, and one more. Balloons? No, that was absurd. There wasn’t any balloons. Couldn’t be fireworks either, that was stupid. Gunshots? Were they gunshots? Montana called out to the source but was drowned in another succession of popping. It had the same rhythm of heartbeats, and for a moment Alexander thought his heart had popped too.

Alexander tapped Leona’s shoulder a few times, making sure she was still there. “Hey… Stay here and make sure nothing happens.”

Before she argued, he was already walking towards the end of the line. Montana was beside him, slightly ahead. He equipped his battleax, slowly, hesitantly wrapping his fingers around the pronounced grips on the handle, wrapped with some special, magical leather. Various civilians and soldiers followed, Pseudos as well, investigating the irregular sounds with open mouths. The sounds: booming, cascading fireworks and balloons, or what everyone had hoped they were.

From the empty, trainless tunnels there was nothing but the flickering lights. Earlier, patrols had entered with flashlights taped to their helmets. They were walking, armed lighthouses basically, patrolling in a sea of darkness.

And several lighthouses were grounded, revealing the train rails.

Alexander thought to speak but was silenced when a tear of gunfire crackled, rat-a-tat-a-tat, then a scream followed after, then a hard thud. Montana’s helmet folded over, three horizontal slits, and the top one glowed red.

A helmetless, red-in-the-face soldier emerged from the dark tunnels, dashing in a drunken limp. It was clear why. Below the leg, his left one, his foot was bent wrong. Sideways, almost fakely. His strapped rifle dangled uselessly without a magazine. In a daze, he patted his vest for a magazine, grabbing nothing but the pockets.

Suddenly, the man stopped. His oil eyes widened, and his mouth dropped.

The air moved.

His head fell first, then he did.

Nothing killed him.

The subway lights moaned, dimming, squealing. A flash of nothing darted across Alexnader’s vision.

Then, a click was heard..

There was no power.

A scream.

There was nothing.