Webster Frog stopped in a doorway, his body twitched, his eyes darted from one side to another. San Antonio was slow to recover from the rift outbreak. Even with only one rift, the local military unit had a lot of issues containing the rampaging monsters. It didn’t help that the monsters in question were frogs.

A memory of dog-sized frogs jumping about on streets shot a shiver alongside Webster’s spine. Seemingly harmless creatures were the deadliest things Webster had ever seen. They shot their tongues two meters forward with the piercing strength of a bullet. Webster had been an unfortunate witness to their prowess and since then he’d suffered from insomnia. People died without a chance to defend themselves, not that self-defence would help them much. The frogs’ skin turned out to be poisonous, not deadly but crippling enough to leave victims incapacitated to fight back or run away.

Webster wasn’t there when soldiers arrived as he’d fled and passed out somewhere on a street. He woke up in a medical ward at the base. The fight was over but everyone was shocked and terrified. What just happened? What were the massive frogs? Where did they come from? Questions were thrown around but the answers weren’t coming.

From there it only got worse, much worse. Webster once again became a witness, this time of the aftermath. Thousands of people died and not all the bodies were recovered. A thick blob lodged in his throat as he passed the rows of dead. Children, women, men.

The monsters didn’t discriminate against age.

Nightmares started a day after that.

Then Webster turned on the TV. He shouldn’t have done it. Seriously, why was he tempted to do so after witnessing the horrors in San Antonio? Webster couldn’t answer himself in any sensible way. What he learned twisted his insides. Alcohol offered very little help as his Level 2 body was quite resistant to alcohol.

Events concerning Keynes Kid didn’t ease Webster’s nerves either. The World Government forced Webster to sign an NDA under threat of arrest. Such a turn of events had shaken Webster’s confidence just before the rift outbreak.

He stepped outside, squirming a little, as slivers of memories invaded his mind. Bodies everywhere. Screaming.

He shook his head and focus on the street. Since the outbreak, the military presence on the streets was heavier but citizens remained wary of going outside. If Webster didn’t need to get out of his flat, he wouldn’t. The commander forced Webster to attend a session with a therapist and Webster was now on his way there. He didn’t deny that he needed help but exposing his mind to someone else’s Talent made him uneasy. Still, he didn’t have a choice. They wouldn’t allow him to return to the base until he was deemed fit.

Perhaps it was fair. Many others were similarly affected and some of them lost friends and family. Webster didn’t have a family. His parents had died, God knew when, while his aunt who raised him kicked him out a day after his Talent Unlocking ceremony. She called him and his Double Mana Regeneration Talent completely useless. And she hadn’t been wrong back then, there had been no use for his Talent. It took Webster many years to find an application for his Talent, mana-powered devices. Stuff like this was only available to the military as it was in the prototype phase.

He made his way to the address on the business card. A detached house like many in the district. He knocked on the door and waited a few minutes before the door opened. A young man in a black suit stood in the hall.

“Mr Frog?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Please enter.”

Webster stepped forward despite himself. Why would a therapist have a bodyguard like this one? He slapped his forehead. Of course! The monsters. It seemed that people took matters into their hands and employed personal security.

The man glanced at Webster but didn’t comment until they reached a stained glass door.

“She’s waiting.”

Webster nodded then pressed the handle and pushed the door open. Inside he found a cosy room with chairs and a sofa, a thick rug and a painting showing a sea battle.

All of this stopped mattering the second Webster’s eyes fell on the therapist. She was beautiful, yes, but more importantly, she was Lorelai Foxglove. The same woman who had come to his office and had asked to have Keynes Kid and her daughter removed from the ceremony. She was powerful and Webster had risked a lot by lying to her. The question was, what was she doing here?

“I didn’t know you were a therapist,” Webster said.

She lounged on a chair in a manner that didn’t suit her exquisite emerald green dress. There was a minute of silence between Webster’s words and Mrs Foxglove’s response. She looked thoughtful but to Webster, her attitude was simply arrogant.

“I would have made a poor therapist. I don’t have the skills or patience to deal with these kinds of problems. No. I took the liberty to send your therapist away for a holiday. She was quite stressed herself.”

Webster started sweating at this point. She knew and she came to punish him. It didn’t matter if she was a woman. Level 5 was Level 5.

With shaking hands, Webster turned around. Maybe he’d make it to the door and escape? His feet were rooted in the floor though. No. Even without the bodyguard, Lorelai Foxglove would have no issues catching and subduing him. Webster wasn’t a man to go against the odds so naturally, he refrained from running away. Nonetheless, his unease was noticed by the woman.

“You must be wondering why I am here.”

That was an understatement but he wisely kept his mouth shut and only nodded.

“By the way, it’s interesting how the setting changes a man. You weren’t so timid in your office, Mr Frog.”

Yes. She definitely came to punish him.

“Circumstances were, indeed, different.”

“Indeed, different,” she murmured. “Yes, they were. But I haven’t come here to talk about any of that. I came here with an offer, Mr Frog.”

Was this about Keynes Kid? To think of that boy…

“There were people from the World Government asking about you, Mrs Foxglove,” Webster said. “I don’t think I should be talking to you.”

“And yet I am here and no warrant was issued, am I right?”

She was arrogant, which shouldn’t surprise Webster. She was Level 5 after all. It took wealth and time to reach such heights.

“Yes, to my knowledge a warrant wasn’t issued…”

Mrs Foxglove shifted on the chair, giving Webster a cold stare. It quickly passed as she came to a conclusion. Finally. Webster would rather leave than stand here at the mercy of the mysterious woman.

“I would like to offer you a job.”

“What? A job?”

“You are a Talent researcher.”

“Yes…”

“I am building a team of Talent researchers and given your Talent. You would be a valuable addition to our team.”

Webster shook his head. He didn’t understand. Was this woman messing with him?

“Could you elaborate? I am not sure I follow.”

A chuckle escaped her. It didn’t possess any softness.

“The World Government has finally decided to start investing in the Talent-shaping process. Regardless of how long it would take them to see the first results, ask yourself, Mr Frog, will you be the part of the discovery?”

“In a sense, yes. My work on Talents is sent to the Science Division in Lisbon. It may not be a substantial part but a part nonetheless.”

Mrs Foxglove laughed louder this time.

“Such humility. I wish I could say I am moved. I am not. I have very little regard for humility. It has proven rather useless in the larger picture. But, let’s return to the topic at hand. If you will accept my offer, Mr Frog, you won’t be merely a part of the success, you will stand at the forefront of it. Something the World Government will never provide you with.”

The offer caught Webster off-guard and he felt the powerful desire to accept her offer. He opened his mouth, although his analytical mind kicked in just right in time. Instead of agreeing, he asked for more.

“I would like to know details first. While I agree that you make a compelling argument, I cannot imagine how can you compare yourself to the World Government and the military. They have resources, reach and authority. In the end, it’s a matter of scope. Even a small part done for the World Government would be substantial on a personal level.”

Mrs Foxglove’s eyebrows climbed to their limits. She didn’t hide her surprise. Did she expect Webster to blindly jump on her offer? Webster wasn’t the strongest negotiator and he didn’t actually attempt to negotiate here. All he did, was to present a counter-argument.

“Fine.”

Her aura whipped around her like a bunch of angry snakes. The World Government, and to a lesser degree the military, drilled into everyone the importance of hiding the spiritual aura as Level 1s and 2s were too susceptible to strong auras. Being so close to someone who didn’t restrain her made Webster’s mind spin and filled his heart with fear. This was power and Webster trembled as he realized how defenceless he was in front of this woman.

The whole ‘aura thing’ lasted a few seconds, it vanished as abruptly as it appeared. It was a show of strength.

“I haven’t come here to argue. You may praise the World Government and the military all you like, but they are slow, extensively bureaucratic, full of politics and strife that drain valuable time and energy. Their return on investment is rather poor. My organisation is smaller. That is true. We don’t have the same resources as the solar system-wide government has but we don’t need to. We have efficiency and focus that the World Government will never possess.

“I will triple your current salary, for the first year, and double that for the subsequent year. You will have also gain access to a rift, once every two weeks and you will keep the reward…”

“Wait. Wait, Wait.” Webster raised his hands. “Why would I want to enter a blasted rift? Can we even go inside? Why?”

Mrs Foxglove studied him. She didn’t try to hide her scowl. Whatever this woman represented, Webster didn’t think he wished to have anything to do with. She was powerful but also unstable, impatient. These weren’t qualities of a leader of a research team.

“You are telling me you don’t know what the rifts are?” she asked slowly, almost hesitantly.

“I don’t. I was given a leave from the base since the outbreak. The monsters caused more deaths than I imagined possible. This is why I am here. I was supposed to speak with a therapist.” Webster was shaking, something inside him was breaking apart. His tone was harsher than he intended, his face twisted by warring emotions. At that moment, fear of dying at the hand of this woman didn’t even enter his mind.

“Therapy sessions will be part of the deal then. I will provide better specialists than the one you were meant to meet here.”

A moment of silence.

“What are the rifts?”

Despite the trauma, his curiosity burned always bright. No point denying that.

“I have no clue what are they. You enter it, kill all the monsters, take the reward at the end of the rift and leave. The rift resets every 24 hours. Rinse and repeat. The essence isn’t much for me but at Level 2 there is much less essence penalty and it should be valuable. Plus, we will be willing to level you up as soon as possible. Your Talent is very important, apart from your expertise.”

“My Talent, why?”

“We possess mana-powered technology.”

Informational overload. Webster had never experienced it before, until now. Maybe it was the consequence of the trauma. The outbreak shook the fundaments of his world. He’d always believed he’d be the man to discover the truth about Talents and their rightful place in the system. When monsters poured out of a breach in a space, in the middle of a street, Webster’s world was thrown upside down.

Rewards. Essence. Monsters. Rifts.

“Are you researching the rifts as well?”

“No. We are fully committed to research Talent-shaping. You may soon learn that your employer’s focus has changed and your resources are diminished.”

She was on her feet, looking at him expectantly. Ah, yes. She waited for his decision. He hesitated. The woman was untrustworthy, the World Government was looking for her in connection with Keynes Kid. Webster almost mustered the courage to ask her about the boy. But he didn’t have it in himself.

“I will give it a try.”

In truth, he couldn’t tell if it was curiosity that pushed him into the claws of this woman or fear of dying because he knew too much. Maybe it was the combination of these that made him agree. In the end, it didn’t really matter.

***

Inner Circle of the President’s Cabinet

Windsor sat on his favourite sofa, overlooking green fields cultivated on the hot, merciless Spanish soil. Barely two weeks passed since the outbreak and things already threatened to spiral out of control. Rifts changed everything. He’d expected this but not on such a scale.

White, thin curtains blew inside, picked up by a salty breeze of the nearby sea. A group of people gathered in Windsor’s mansion, built from old stone, with high, vaulted ceilings, polished, marble floors with thick rugs and old furniture placed wherever possible. In itself, the mansion was something exquisite.

But today, none of these things had the slightest purchase on the minds of the present people. In fact, they could very much sit in a cave and still, they wouldn’t care.

“Mars and Venus demand access to the rifts,” said Ronald Rugman, the vice-president of the World Government. Rugman’s hard features were inherited from his father and grandfather, and didn’t go well with his blond hair. Ronald Rugman, the veteran in the world of politics, was the last person in the room who cared about his appearance though. He wasn’t young, being sixty-nine, although Level 7 kept him in good shape.

“On what grounds?” Nitisha Romanov asked, her tongue like a whip. She was over sixty and yet, she looked not a year beyond forty. The white-haired and cold-hearted woman was greatly respected by Windsor. It was her family that helped to sway Russia to accept the World Government. It wasn’t a peaceful transition and from what Windsor remembered the Romanov toppled the opposition by the skin of their teeth. Nitisha was a child of eight, perhaps nine back then. Now, she stood at the top of her family, a true powerhouse. Even being three levels lower than Windsor, he knew that this woman would be a difficult opponent because of her damned Talent. Each hit sapped life energy from her opponent. Even with the level damage reduction, there was only so much life energy a person possessed.

“Same as always,” Rugman replied. “The Post-War Equality Act.”

Nitisha snorted and showed her pearl-white teeth.

“They can take the act and shove it up their asses. Only Earth suffered losses and only Earth will receive spoils.”

“The Old Blood also have their demands,” Caesar Stonewood chimed in. “And they will not back off from this one.”

Nitisha snorted once more. “They never have enough.”

“Maybe, but they hold many seats in the High Parliament. Many of them work for us. We cannot antagonize them.”

“Caesar is right,” Rugman said. “The Old Blood holds the largest number of the High-Level individuals in the solar system. If we deny them their share of rifts, they’ll rebel and off-planet populations will follow their steps. We will have a war at our feet.”

“Greedy fuckers!” Nitisha snarled. “They should be glad we didn’t cull them when the World Government took over. We should put some of them in place. It would send a message to the rest.”

“If Windsor hadn't kept you leashed, Nitisha, you’d have started another world war already,” Rugman said. “A war is the last thing we want. We still haven’t recovered from the outbreak, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Being soft is the last thing we need right now,” Nitisha snapped. “Stonewood, what do you think would happen if we start giving concessions to the Old Blood?”

The bear of a man sat in silence for a couple of seconds before answering, “They’d likely demand more.”

“See?” Nitisha pointed it out to Rugman. “Their greed knows no limits.”

“Speaking of the Old Blood, any news on Letchworth?” Rugman decided to change the subject. Under normal circumstances, Nitisha wouldn’t let him off the hook. He might be the vice-president, but the old woman didn’t care about titles. She respected strength, Levels and loyalty. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Letchworth Truman was their long-time fellow and a member of the Inner Circle.

A rift had opened inside Letchworth’s mansion and every family member except for Letchworth was there. It had been slaughter and Windsor gave his old friend time to grieve.

“My sources say he hasn’t emerged from the building since he entered it,” Caesar said. “Maybe we should go and visit him?”

They looked expectantly at Windsor who kept the silence, stretching it to a breaking point. Nitisha was the first to react, snorting in her characteristical way. After that Rugman grunted, which was the moment Windsor decided to enter the conversation. After all, he gathered the Inner Circle to discuss the outbreak and its consequences. What he heard from his companions was a dire vision. It was much as Nitisha said, greed was the driver of the change.

“There isn’t much we can do for Letchworth,” Windsor said. This one was the hardest decision he faced and he struggled with it immensely. Out of all members of the Inner Circle, Letchworth aligned himself closest with Windsor’s interests. But now was not the time for being soft. “His entire family has died. I don’t think he will return from this.”

Once more silence blanketed the room.

“Are we going to abandon him?” Caesar asked.

Both houses, the Stonewoods and the Trumans belonged to the so-called Old Blood. The powerful and influential families from pre-World Government time. Nitisha should be counted as one of them as well, but she despised the Old Blood families and didn’t mingle with them, except for Caesar and Letchworth.

“For now,” Windsor’s face went stone-like, his voice cold as he continued. “We are standing on the verge of the greatest change this world has ever faced. We cannot be distracted.”

Stonewood, Rugman and Romanov looked at him askance. Windsor could tell that they didn’t see this one coming. That was good.

“What do you mean, Windsor?” Rugman asked.

Windsor stood up for a dramatic effect and approached a window, turning his back to the rest.

“Imagine we share rifts with the Old Blood and minor governments. Will the military stay idle? No. They will ask for exclusive rifts and to avoid a schism we’d have to follow through with their demand. You understand what rifts brought to the table: essence, items and the most important of all, skills.

“What should we do when higher Level rifts are revealed but they are in our rivals sphere of influence? Contest it? Give up on them? What do you think?”

He turned to them, finding a stunned silence. Good.

Rugman was the first to recover.

“How do you know there are higher Level rifts?”

“We already found one. And we have a strong suspicion that Level 3 and higher ones are out there as well. Now think about this again, but this time, picture a Level 3 rift in the hands of the Old Blood. Think of the consequences.”

“We cannot allow this to happen. This will empower them and they’ll strike as soon as they are sure they can win.” Windsor wasn’t sure if Nitisha saw what he saw or she just was out for blood. Either way, he needed their support. There was only so much he could take by himself.

“What do you propose?” Caesar said.

“Full consolidation of power.”

“What?” Rugman asked bewildered.

“Either we control all the rifts or we will lose this.”

“You are talking about dictatorship. Columbus Curt will rebel.”

“We have no choice.”

“What of Mars and Venus?”

“We leave them to their own devices for now. Without rifts, they are powerless. Esopp Earl is on his way back from Venus as we speak.”

To better demonstrate his point of view, Windsor lifted his arm, fire sprung to life engulfing his hand. The three gasped. They knew about skills, although all skills were currently confiscated and stashed away.

“This is power,” Windsor said, feeling invincible. He didn’t even mention that soon Polloc would succeed in sealing the rift and Windsor’s power would be absolute.