“The world ain't nothing but chances and disappointments.”

“You're telling me, brother.” Surfs Nesetta commiserated with Beans Istemus, and most of the cast shared their feelings. “The new me is lazier than the boss thinks we are when he's in a mood, and you can't call it Public Service when she won't even do dishes.”

Reality had encountered high hopes and acted according to its custom. Once-excited officers, not only those dedicated to the idea of having words with Holy Legend Army but the entire roster save Cadmos, ended up with nothing but a reminder from the manual that UTASes could take the substituted asset's place in routine battles and menus, but that no further functionality was to be expected. Pockets had been emptied to buy dolls that at most could farm Vigilant Patrol or wander in the main hall. The double-sized dodgeball court they had taped off sat abandoned, never to be used.

“Maintain focus,” Mentor Tendradius abjured them. “Disappointment is natural. I wanted to develop tandem techniques with my UTAS. What of it? More techniques await. Before Cadmos returns from the latest briefing, stow the UTASes at the secondary site along with your dead dreams. Nourish the living ones.”

By the time they finished the trip to and from the storage sheds which had demonstrated their excellence by withstanding the stresses of an unthinkable and very glitchy open-field boss fight, Cadmos and Cadmos II were walking into Freegate with news that could have sold more papers than spunky girl reporter Lasva ever did.

“Congratulations to Rhizi and Aerywe! Or condolences if you don't want to go, because I really don't think we have a choice. I hope everyone here gets along with Sigmund, Ragnel, and Kullervo and has an interesting collaboration experience. It would be a shame to let a chance to have some fun with new friends pass you by.”

“It should be fun for some of us, all right. Ha. Heehee. OHOHO–”

“Hey! Quirce! Hey!” Zimley snapped her fingers in front of Quircy Rau's face. “Back with us?”

“I never left. I was just hyping up the crowd for an Aerywe Beruvo speech.”

“Thank you, Quircy Rau.” Aerywe stood up straight, not that she ever did otherwise, her long purple hair framing her royally ornate dress rich with jewels, her two-handed royal ax planted firmly on the ground. “The honor shown me today can never be deserved by anything I have done nor tarnished by what I may do, since it is far too great and I, too small by far. Even so, I will endeavor to execute my role with the dignity and grace I hope any other officer assigned this task of beautiful weight would exhibit if chosen so as to preserve and, if possible, magnify the reputation of our home, shared and glorious.” She curtsied as the gathered listeners clapped, and then sidled over to Gaelvry Bride, her younger, less dignified, more radiant on the occasion of her nuptials twin sister. “Bring me back a souvenir. A cursed sword? A demon's severed head? I don't know what's on offer over there. I trust your judgment.” So saying, Aerywe departed with Cadmos to find Rhizi Apron and deliver the good or else bad news.

The days leading up to the Holy Legend Army X Commandment of Hero collab passed in the usual manner, with grumbling about being sent on dispatches, grumbling about how Part 3 Chapter 1 with its new gear sets had not yet been added to Vigilant Patrol, grumbling about carrying URs up and down the stairs every time they wanted to check if 3-1 had been added to Vigilant Patrol yet, and grumbling about Rares grumbling about their routine duties. To balance that, the Priority Recruit for the latest incredible Eclipse, Youl Sandshaker, raised officer spirits even as it lowered those of countless players. They deserved it for being unlucky though, and as a consolation, spotlight companions had often been worse than Neur. On the content side of things, the second National Hunt event provided stimulation for action-lovers as well as lore-chasers, who wondered what a “Strufor of the Latch” was supposed to be.

A game as active as that stopped not for an instant no matter what kind of zany schemes its residents planned, and neither did the schemes end because their planners had a lot of other junk to do. A meeting was called on the eve of the decisive day to determine whether any participants besides Aerywe Beruvo had been forced to bail by unforeseen circumstances, if any early refusers had decided to accept the ultimate adventure in another world, and to finalize group assignments. Furthermore, technical assistance would be available for anyone who still had difficulty getting a UTAS up and running.

“I don't want to bother anyone! But I don't have fingers! I'm a hydra!” That sort of difficulty. Elsewhere in Storehouse Alpha, the facility in the shadow of Count Poitula's stronghold where the Strategists had suggested they meet, officers debated whether to help Boxer Andit remove his comically oversized right glove or just type for him. Similar conversations concerning Night Shift Lynissia had concluded in an arrangement wherein a couple assistants held up the keyboard while everyone else watched Lynissia's mascot hands try to tap the numbers. Society Page Lasva and Ipons Ulsrada took pictures for commemorative reasons. The operation succeeded to the satisfaction of everyone, at which time Quircy Rau demanded attention. “I'm starting this meeting,” she said.

“Wait but why are you in charge like suddenly?”

“Azinsia, I spoke up precisely because I have an answer for that. Look over there!” She held up her lens and focused light into a distant corner, where stood a generic-looking guy with red hair and a sword, unmoving. “It happened twice! The Strategists told us Cadmos never goes into the alt closet. Then they told us he wouldn't find us in here for the same reason. I'm starting to question whether class names even mean anything. Before I decide that once and for all, I'm making it a plank in my platform to hurry this meeting up before Cadmos comes to fetch his UTAS and catches us, because Quircy Rau doesn't get caught. Any objections?”

Several, quite a few, many, but not to her speech. Unkind words assaulted the Strategists, who had far too much to do in terms of inspecting their UTASes and whistling to respond to intemperate accusations. Quircy, triumphant, assigned everyone to a group with promptness and decisiveness possible only for those who neglected to count heads beforehand. “And that leaves. Uh. Wait. How many of us are going? 10 groups, and 1, 2, 3 . . . Fifty-three of us? That's so ungainly. Do three of you want to leave? No? Can we recruit two more? Gaelvry, how about you lean on your cowgirl friend?”

“How about you try to lean on her? Tell me how it goes. I have a pretty good conception already.”

“Fine, I'll take care of everything.” She did a little drawing and a bit of erasing on a whiteboard set up for the meeting and shuffled three Rares into the incomplete group. “Done. I expect you to memorize your assignments. Blue-hair, take a picture so we can keep them honest.” Ipons Ulsrada complied by fixing his Dungeon Express Re:Development camera on a Dungeon Express Re:Development tripod, both brand names of course, setting the timer, and running forward to stand on the left side of the board while Quircy took the right, both smiling and holding their hands out toward the center as if they had just turned around letters picked by a contestant. The picture taken, Quircy asked if any questions or concerns remained.

Youl Sandshaker raised her hand. “I have a code for Youl. None for Youl Sandshaker. Is that a problem? It's a problem, isn't it?”

“That's a big problem! Maybe. I'll proceed on the basis that it's a problem. Get a new manual? That's putting a lot of faith in the bootleg industry. Leave you behind? Never! What if . . .” Quircy leaned her back on the whiteboard and examined her own UTAS. “Can we dress it up to look like the new you? Try taking off its kerchief.”

Youl pulled and then yanked, but Universal Temporary Asset Substitutes emulated officer clothing by means of texture alteration, not by going to a tailor. Aside from that, removing the kerchief, even if possible, would be no more than step one. Acquiring a polearm topped by a Sandshaker's claw fashioned into a blade might be difficult to manage within the necessary time frame.

“Suppose you use hair from those breeders' dogs to make fake mustaches for the Youls to wear,” suggested Flawless Pedigree, who had come for UTAS chat despite having no intention of going on a trip.

“What is the reasoning behind that?”

“A walkthrough for another game told me to do that once.”

Convinced by unimpeachable authority, officers were discussing whether to convince Spenito Niu and Adigail Zem to give them what they wanted or to devise an intricate dog heist when a helpful offer came from a corner most unexpected, since they normally came from people.

“You can use my manual, Youl. It's up-to-date,” the corner said, and out of it walked a hero.

“Wowee, the official UTASes have it in them to make that kind of decision? I figure brand names is nothing but advertising, like on that tripod and camera, but this time there might be a taste of something to it!”

“That would be impressive, wouldn't it, Hank? I'm sorry if finding this out makes you cynical, but it's just me,” Cadmos said.

“The spookiest scoop of my career. UTASes have gained consciousness and are out to replace us. Who will be next. You. Your neighbor.” If Society Page Lasva could muster no enthusiasm for her latest fabrication, other officers could do nothing but groan when they realized the true Cadmos had been there the entire time.

“Our plan to invade and loot Holy Legend Army has been discovered. No recourse remains but to burn down the shed with Cadmos inside.” Mentor Tendradius Pux raised his sword and looked for a torch.

“Oh, is that what you were doing? I thought you just wanted to put together an extra-large dodgeball game.” Cadmos laughed. “And you tried to hide your plan because you knew I wouldn't be able to go. I'm really touched, everybody, but don't worry about me. Just knowing you're having a good time is enough. I have a question, though.” Cadmos twiddled his fingers while Youl made use of his booklet. “You're only going to loot it? Why not install a viceroy and ensure a steady stream of tribute?”

The officers in Storehouse Alpha had approval for the proposal on their very tongues when their hearts, realizing who had put the idea forward, ran up their throats into their mouths to yank approval back. The procedure left them with nothing to say, but that never stopped Serdon Miloz, whether on a stage or in a shed. “I'm getting a feeling, just a little flicker of that candle inside. Have I misinterpreted our main character's nature?”

“How so? Is he not a violent thug who gives anyone with a curious mind a good drubbing? Such was my impression. Based on the story.” Luerre Voine peered around in a search for signs of agreement, saw none, and shrugged. “Was that not why we worried about his finding out? No? Hm.”

“Everybody has different experiences. Don't worry if nobody sees things quite the same way you do.” Cadmos accepted his manual back from Youl Sandshaker. “That's just as true for Holy Legend Army. Tell me what you learn in the crucible of battle after the collab. See you tomorrow and have a fun trip! Don't forget to consider the path of the conqueror!” He waved and left.

“It worked,” Youl Sandshaker, standing next to Youl Sandshaker, assured them. With no more technical issues outstanding, Quircy Rau solicited input as to the adoption of the conquest idea and what they should do to the Strategists. The body of participating officers solved the second problem by forcing every member of that class present at the meeting to wear a placard with the words “More Like Dumbegist” on it till the collab. As to the first, the majority opinion held that they could decide that after acquiring more hands-on experience in trans-ludic conflict and seeing what kind of stuff the victims owned.