“You ought to use your powers on the creature over yonder,” the donkey said.

He wasn’t wrong, probably, but Rory wasn’t about to be deterred. “Don’t distract me, donkey. Who are you, and what are you really doing here?”

“Oh, names!” The donkey had an astonished expression that really didn't belong on a donkey. “I’d forgotten the custom in this world was to lead with assigned monikers. How intriguing you are. Would you mind granting me a name, mortal?”

A part of Rory’s mind was still revolving around finding a working vehicle. If there wasn’t a car, maybe he could get a van, or perhaps a— “Truck?”

“Truck! How regal. Excellent, excellent, we may now proceed once you state yours.”

Rory decided to ignore the odd behaviour. He was starting to suspect the eccentricity itself was a distraction, which meant Truck was a lot smarter than he let on. “Rory. Anyway, from what you’ve said so far, you sound like… an alien. A spectator for this apocalypse.”

That explained the donkey’s weird behaviour so far. Truck wasn’t here to help or guide them. All he cared about was entertainment, and a part of Rory wondered if he hadn’t led the Hooktongue back here just to see the two surviving humans face off against it.

“I am not of this world, correct,” he said. “I was led to believe the apocalypse was starting today—and it technically has—but the main attraction is still quite a few days off. I will need to have strong words with Invigilator Akarnas when I return.”

“But that means you know what’s going on. You understand what this is all about.”

“Don’t you?”

Rory frowned. Everything had been happening so fast that he’d been forced to act before he could really internalize this entirely new set of impossibly strange circumstances. It was finally starting to sink just how messed up everything was.

The feeling left him cold and hollow. All the words in that little ticket started to fling themselves at Rory’s mind like hammer strikes on a heated anvil. In seven days, there was a war coming. A war that this strange donkey was supposed to spectate.

Rory’s mouth twisted. “These Plane things… what are they? Why did they collide with our world?”

“You seem surlier than before. An expression that doesn’t befit an almighty Weaver such as yourself, if I can add.”

“How am I not supposed to be surly when random aliens drop in, destroy my whole world, shatter all my hopes and dreams, put everyone I know and love in mortal danger, and end my retirement plans to boot?”

Rory rubbed his bandaged temple and looked away. He hadn’t shouted, but he had raised his voice, and that had set off another chain-reaction of vicious spikes in his injured head.

Losing all interest in hearing the donkey’s excuses, he stepped over to where the Hooktongue’s corpse was burning in the debris of the fallen store. The heat smothered him, but he pushed through, breathed shallowly in the fumes, and activated his Weaving. Rory made sure to focus the tiny white lines on the monster’s body.

New Sigil!

You’ve obtained a Sigil of the Hooktongue. Channel the savage beast that wishes to lick everything within you.

[Argent II] allows 2 minor burnwing monstrous evolutions for 30 seconds.

Stats

Type: Evolution

Rarity: Exceptional

Tier: Argent II [0%]

Efficiency: Medium [27%]

The dark Sigil with the image of a Hooktongue’s wings distracted him for a little bit, as did the fact that its type was evolution, whatever that meant. Yet another Sigil he needed to see in action.

“Don’t get too close, gramps,” Miles said as he returned, a little dejected look on his face. “You’re going to end up burning yourself.”

“You didn’t find a car?” Rory asked.

“I did, but they’re all either trashed by that monster—what did you call it? A Hooktongue?—or they just won’t work. Not sure why though.”

Rory sighed. “That’s just perfect.”

Miles looked between him and the donkey. “Did… something happen?”

“No. I’m just annoyed at everything because it’s all unfair.” Rory had thrown up his hands, but he slowly brought them down and relaxed his fingers. Getting angry wasn’t going to solve anything. He needed to remain calm. He needed to get a move on and figure out where Viv was. His eyes fell on Miles’s shoulder. “Is your wound healing by itself?”

Miles’s frown turned into a smile so quickly, it was as if he had never been troubled by Rory’s statement in the first place. “Yep! It’s this Sigil of Health. It adds a health stat, which grants a regen. As it starts going up, all my wounds and pain start to heal and go away. Fascinating, huh?”

Rory had to agree. Maybe if he’d absorbed the Sigil, his head wouldn’t still be a bloody mess.

Miles seemed to be thinking along the same line. “We need to get you one of those too,” he said, eyeing Rory’s injury.

Rory took a deep breath and stepped away from the remains of the burning corpse and store. “We’ll find one later. Right now, we need to get a move on.”

“Where are we headed?”

“You know the old palace?”

“Belcourt? Yeah, it’s just up the road from here. But I don’t know, Rory, it sounded like everyone had left that place already.”

Oh, right. While Miles had been stuck in his shed thanks to fallen debris, he had heard people evacuating en masse. It was only natural that many of those people had been from the palace too. Rory’s heart trembled at the thought that Viv might have been among them.

“Even if no one’s there, we might find a car or something that works. Let’s get going.”

“Can we bring the donkey too?”

Truck had joined them, turning big eyes glimmering at them wetly. Rory had the distinct impression it was trying to appear adorable, though he wasn’t about to fall for it.

Miles, however, was a different matter. He patted the donkey’s head, then turned the same big, round eyes on Rory, pleading silently. Sighing, Rory gave in. The situation reminded him of the time Alex had begged to let them keep a gerbil, and it was difficult to refuse anything to his child when they got like that.

“You can come on one condition,” Rory said, holding Truck’s eyes. “You’ll have to answer all my question to the best of your knowledge.”

“I accept your deal. In return for supplying me with entertainment, I shall dole out what knowledge I possess.”

New Achievement!

You’ve completed your first deal. You’ve started a wonderous path filled with the excitement of making trades and exchanges.

Rewards

Sigil of Mercantilism

New Sigil!

You’ve obtained a Sigil of Mercantilism. You now have access to the profession of Merchant.

[Argent I] allows to form basic, system-enforced Deals.

Stats

Type: Profession

Rarity: Exceptional

Tier: Argent I [0%]

Efficiency: Medium [40%]

The new Sigil had the picture of a pair of balancing scales. Intrigued by the Sigil, Rory absorbed it.

New Achievement!

You have filled all your Sigil slots. Well done. Your ability to collect and take in Sigils willy-nilly is inspirational.

Rewards

x2 faster Tier growth until new Sigil slot is achieved.

Rory stared at the achievement. As glad as he was to learn his Tier would be rising more quickly, he was a bit miffed at not knowing when he’d get a new Sigil slot. He decided to ignore it for now, as it was time to get moving.

A part of him wanted to do something about all the corpses littering the area. Unfortunately, he was already too tired, and it was going to be a decently long walk to the palace. He also didn’t want to spend any more time out in the open than he had to do.

They started off, taking the road north and leaving the destroyed gas station behind them. It didn’t take long before both sides of the street were smothered by trees. It left Rory just a little bit uncomfortable. If more monsters popped out form the woods, they’d be screwed. There was no place to hide here, no obstacles to use for barricades or things to Weave into new Sigils.

Rory didn’t like it when they passed over the creek surrounding the palace via bridge, nor did he like the columns of darkness unfurling from all over the town. Their sloped path was taking them higher, so the general impression of mass destruction was becoming painfully obvious.

To take his mind off the unease, Rory decided to resume the questioning. Hopefully, he wouldn’t end up mad this time.

“Alright,” Rory said. “How are these magical Planes interacting with our world start a war between Otherworlders and us humans?”

“One question requires one hour of entertainment,” Truck said. When Rory’s mouth opened to reply, he bowled over with his own words. “Planes collide when their Rulers are at war. However, a direct war between Plane Rulers often ends up being too devastating for all those who reside within the Planes. Much, much worse than what you’ve seen so far.”

“How could it be worse than this?” Miles asked.

“Consider yourselves fortunate that you may never have to witness such an occasion. But in any case, it was decided that the direct clash was too cataclysmically destructive, so to prevent future disputes from annihilating existence itself, there would be proxy wars.”

“And the unlucky combatants in these proxy wars are supposed to be us and the Otherworlders?” Rory shook his head. He couldn’t even be angry anymore. The unfairness of it all just seeped all his energy and left him dejected. “You’re saying the dimension our world exists in collided with another dimension, bringing in all the magic and monsters from there?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“And this war? Are we going to get invaded by aliens or something?”

“Soon, you will find factions forming on your world. Otherworlders will soon arrive. Not just monsters, but other races as well, possessing great intelligence, all of them coming to hunt Sigils and gather Mana. Even your kind will soon realize how valuable they are, and how rare and difficult to obtain they can be. You know well what happens when a valuable commodity is so limited, I assume?”

“A war. Yes. Are achievements the only way to get Sigils?”

The donkey clip-clopped like they were enjoying a stroll in the park. “Mainly, yes. They may also be found via looting chests, monsters, dungeons, and various other places. But Weaving is the most convenient, and the rarest. You understand your position there, yes?”

Rory swallowed. It sounded like Truck was saying people weren’t just going to hunt Sigils.

They would hunt him too.

“But what does this weird game system have to do with all of this?” Miles asked. “I mean, why are a bunch of overpowered aliens enforcing a human-made game system? Don’t tell me it was the aliens who invented gaming.”

“That goes too far into the history of the universe for me to say. I was once such as you, caught in the world’s destructive transition from its usual state into the integration with the Planar system. It was established long before most even recall.”

“And how long ago was that supposed to be?”

“Several thousand millennia ago.”

“That makes no sense…”

Another dead end. Rory had wished he didn’t have to get annoyed, but these frustrating answers weren’t helping.

“What about Sigils?” he asked.

Truck twisted his head as though nonplussed. “What of them?”

“These Tiers indicate their power, right? How many are there? Is there a limit we might hit one day?”

“Of Sigils? As a Weaver, the only limit is your imagination. But if you mean Tiers, there is a long list of sequential ones you can interact with. It contains the following—Argent, Cerulean, Teal, Viridian, Umber, Carmine, Mauve, Sable, and Aureate. All of these have ten levels that you must unlock before you can access the next Tier.”

Miles looked at the back of his hand. “So many.” He closed his fingers into a fist, and Rory saw the corner of his smile. “But that’s fine. If this system really holds up to established rules, then we’ve got a decent chance.”

“What do you mean?” Rory asked.

Miles turned to him with a gleam in his eye. The wound on his shoulder seemed to have healed completely. “Don’t you see how customizable everything is? We can set our own stats, pick our own skills, make our own character however we want. It’s actually exciting!” He thrust a Sigil at Rory. “Here, you can have it back. I don’t think Support fits what I want to be.”

“Did you… just pull it out?”

“He could not have,” Truck said. “The only normal way to remove a Sigil is by replacing it with another.”

“Good thing I never took it in then,” Miles said.

They didn’t speak much after that. There was a lot of information for them to absorb, and besides, their talk had carried them all the way to the palace’s gates. Rory hadn’t realized just how fatigued he was, but now he couldn’t wait to get inside and simply sit down for a bit.

Sadly, that dream was going to have to wait. They had a guard awaiting them at the gate.

Truck clapped his hooves in excitement. “Oh, entertainment!”

Rory stared at the new monster. It looked like a living gargoyle with its enormous bat wings and demonic head on top of a fur-covered, humanoid body. Despite looking like it was made of stone, it moved fluidly and without any grinding or cracking.

“Welcome,” the creature said, baring sharp fangs. “Come to surrender?”

“You’re messing with the wrong folks, pal,” Miles said, stepping forward. The altercation with the Hooktongue had given him a lot of confidence.

The living gargoyle spread its claw-tipped arms wide. “Care to prove it?”

“Be careful,” Rory said quietly.

Miles stepped forward and raised his arms. “It’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t fine. With his right hand, Miles blasted a stream of fire at the monster. The only response he got was those large bat wings curving inwards to cover the creature completely. When the fires dissipated, there wasn’t a scratch on it. Not even a single splotch that glowed hot.

Of course. The creature was made of stone. That didn’t take well to heat, at least not in a destructive way. If anything, its body was now burning hot alongside being incredibly tough.

“Uh oh,” Miles muttered.

The living gargoyle opened its wings wide, its fanged grin spreading even wider. “Time to die, Homeworlders!”

As the monster rushed them, Miles and Rory fell back. He barely heard the shout from behind him, barely noted the strange whoosh and bubbling noise zipping in, before a brilliant scarlet arc struck the gargoyle in the middle of its chest and sent it flying into the palace’s front gate.

It screamed as it exploded in a shower of crimson energy and stony shrapnel. The remains of the gate fell in a clanging rain behind it.

Rory didn’t see it. He had turned to check out the newcomers when his breath had caught. Two women were standing down the road, one with a strange red sabre in her hand while the other watched from father behind. Rory grinned at the sight.

One of the women was Viv.