It had been confirmed that the portals were not the result of Pereyra’s and Tewfik’s work; according to Sage, the Slayers within the demesne saw as such (or didn’t, really). Thus, it had to be the other three Comets of the Kreutz Sungrazers: Wonder, Ikeya, and the leader Kreutz; it seemed the pair had informed their allies knowing the problematic future ahead.

Again, not unexpected. Everyone knew portals were coming; frankly, Archknell wanted the team to assume the worst and expect all five Comets to flood the area with portals. The forces here were intended to withstand that high of a volume, so to conclude that Ordo was effectively getting sixty percent of that was good news.

That was the only good news anyone got, because actually fighting was an entirely different story.

“Motherfucker!” hissed Alexander as a kobold’s shield bashed into his chest, hard, enough to take the air out of his lungs. These fuckers were stronger than he thought for their pint-sized asses. He staggered backwards, stumbled between fallen chairs and tables, nearly tripped on a loose flyer.

The last part was when the kobold took advantage, growling, raising its blood-seeking handaxe and sending it down. Alexander was barely able to raise his [Captain’s Broadsword], blocked the axe. The steel clanged against one another, rang loudly in the room, bounced off. A tongue fell out of the kobold’s mouth, slack, as though it wanted to taste his desperation and went to swing again.

Until suddenly an electrified chain had been wrapped around its neck. The kobold jerked, body tensing then going lax, and smoothly a dagger had slid into the side of its throat, getting an artery. Blood spilled out by the liters, making its death very clear and very imminent, and it was unceremoniously tossed over the bar counter.

Althea stood with a smug smile while her brother was hunched over, heaving after that shield bash, cursing this stupid bar for being such a mess. She gave a small, cocky shrug and he rolled his eyes. Confidence was a bad look on her, especially when she was covered in blood.

“Come on!” he urged, knowing the establishment wasn’t clear yet. Through a moderation program that Sage and her team made, Alba was automatically tasked to clear a bar, some place Alexander never went to. The portal was said to be inside the basement level, and they only had gotten inside the building itself through the front entrance. The others were coming through the back.

From the staff doors, the kobolds were filtering in, scuttering and cackling and acting like gremlins. Frustrating, annoying, fucking gremlins. Small but dangerous. Five of them, having swords and spears and hatchets, holding shields and wearing whatever armor they’d looted. Alexander cursed again and ran past Althea—they had mutually agreed to let him take the lead—and confronted the group head on.

A strange noise sprouted from the front-most one, an order, an early celebration of their next victim perhaps. The others agreed, eyes glittering with a pleasure to kill, and charged forward all at once, planning to overwhelm Alexander through numbers alone.

Alexander brought his [Captain’s Broadsword] back, caused the first one to flinch and raise its shield before a foot was shoved directly into the wood, kicked the bastard back into the group, flat on its scaly back. The others staggered, hesitated, until one had the top of its skull lobbed off. The blade continued until biting into another shield, ripped a chunk of wood off, cut deeply into flesh, causing a kobold to growl and stumble back. Hurt, but alive.

The two untouched gremlins converged onto Alexander with a hatchet and a rather short spear. He blocked both, threw them off and swung again, only for the injured one—the kobold with half-a-shield—to save his friends, blade and wood banging. Too bad for him though; his grip was weak, ended up fumbling the shield away.

Alexander stomped forward as the three skittered back, his foot crushing the chest of the one he’d kicked down, felt its ribs crack underneath his boot and heard a low groan.

There came another groan, similar to this one. Another kobold had its throat cut—Alexander had always told her that it was one of the most vulnerable areas. The next dagger was drawn before they reacted, stuck the same as the first she’d killed. All that was left was the shieldless, wounded one; it attempted to scurry over a counter. Althea took the initiative and got it in the back. Dead.

Although they hadn’t discussed much strategy here, this was good practice: letting Alexander become the main target while Althea snuck from behind.

They shared a look with one another: both surprised and impressed that they worked well together (sibling things). But this wasn’t the time for a celebration. The threat hadn’t passed yet.

Alexander took the lead again once more, entering the kitchen where the kobolds had came through. One hurried in, its metal armor (which was several sizes too big) clattering. The slow one of the tribe, or whatever the proper name was.

It spotted Alexander, he spotted it. Before the kobold could act, Alexander found a knife in a nearby sink and grabbed it.

[Skill Activation: Certain Shot]

Straight into the chest, through the plates.

Alexander spotted mud on the floor, leading to an open doorway with blood caking the frame. It led to a hallway with peeling wallpaper.

From the left, three kobolds scrambled into view, but they didn’t notice the Shens; rather, something on the right had their attention. The forwardmost one balanced his rusted-colored sword on the shoulder, lifted it up slightly, and was met with three energy bolts: two in the chest, which staggered the monster, then one popped into the head, blowing a small hole in the back.

The second kobold died before the third had reacted. By the time the body was limp, falling, a quick succession ended the last monster.

A voice called out, and respectively another small group of two appeared, but their footsteps were slow, faltering at the sight of seeing three of them being shot down so easily. That was a mistake, because soon after they got blown back by a large fireball, torching them.

The other half of Slayer Team Alba appeared: Damien Fayer, Vernon Hugo, and Leona Ahn in that order. They regrouped. Everyone had their own one-liners and expressions (“Finally, we were waiting!” or “Took you long enough!”), each running off the high of the battle.

Alexander had recalled this feeling once. The thrill of combat, when Dad had been teaching him.

The rest was a cakewalk, even with their ragtag team. Damien cleared the halls with relative ease, sending waves of fire that scorched the kobolds, caused them to scream horribly and made the place stink with a burnt, metallic smell. Those who managed to avoid a fiery death couldn’t avoid the next one: energy bolts from Vernon’s [Energy Revolver], or Leona’s swift swordsmanship or Alexander’s effective brutality, or Althea’s swiftness.

One kobold in particular was large, a few inches shorter than Alexander, dressed in all metal and boasted a thick and heavy greatsword. Vernon’s shots bounced off the armor and he groaned to himself. Damien did his fire—the kobold was hurt, frazzled by the flames and got broiled heavily, but it didn’t go down.

Really, everything made it pissed. It bolted down the hall, faster than Alexander was comfortable with. His mind raced, torn between taking out his Justitia or not, knowing he had little time to do the former. Before he came to a decision, Leona had stepped up and intercepted the large kobold.

[Skill Activation: Hwaseong First Arte - Red Banner]

Split from shoulder to waist, the war-beckoned sword technique had roughly bisected the kobold in a single, swift and gorgeous swing, topped off with a blade flip, blood flourishing, and returning to the sheath.

Leona gestured ahead, giving a light smile to her partner.

In a random storage room, the portal was located exactly how Alexander imagined. Like in those sci-fi or fantasy shows, where it was a complete tear in reality with a glimpse of another world within the seams. This one was as large as a human man, gray in color.

Vernon took out his spatial distortion stabilization device (often abbreviated as SDSD), a sizable thing that could stabilize and remove smaller distortions. The Otherguards used these in their work; thankfully Ordo had a large supply which was perfect for this operation.

The SDSD itself was a black box that opened up to reveal complicated blue magic circles and circuits. It emitted a white light that measured the distortion and began sewing reality back together from the bottom-up.

It took about three minutes until the rift was sealed and the portal was gone; in that time frame, no other kobolds left their world.

Alexander called it in.

Alexander:

Operation Scorcher Input: Stabilization of Portal E-2490 confirmed

Sage:

Confirmation acknowledged. Slayer Team Alba’s new automated orders: Assist Third Order

Location…

This program was a life-saver. Sage had turned her [Private Message] into a command center, allowing for the Slayers to call in their objectives and receive new ones. While imperfect (according to her), it did the job well enough.

You could do that with the System: being able to insert your own code for certain skills or constructs.

Once Alexander received the location, he told everyone else and led the way.

***

The streets could only be described as organized chaos. In the false night that the Comets had created, the skies were illuminated with gunfire. Hot, burning amber tearing apart the clouds. Portals had opened above the streets, flying creatures coming out. Mutated birds, harpies, God-knew-what else. Not a single one survived long, turned into puffs of feathers and shredded flesh.

Machinists had implemented automatic turrets. You could tell who made which turret by their designs (they often argued whose were superior). At the baseline they were constructed similarly: powered by mana circuits, fueled by crystals, programmed to take down any aerial monsters with flurries. And if that didn’t work, then the troops would themselves, having manned their own large guns and launchers.

Alexander constantly heard missiles going off, or that was what he thought. He imagined it to be mortars or some sort of artillery; they were most likely used on the first perimeter, the foremost, where there were nothing but monsters. It’d mean that the city would be damaged in the process but it was a price that Seraph was willing to pay: they needed to give more time to the Slayers in Gallery Street.

That was all this was: buying them time. The demesne would last for thirty minutes at most. Without outside protection, it’d collapse within three. Problem had given the demesne auto-regeneration capabilities, siphoning the natural mana in the air. But if the damage outpaced the healing, then it would fall as simple as that.

Everyone needed to do their jobs, and do it well.

Third Order belonged to an affiliate guild of Royals. They had trouble in a car lot or somewhere nearby, and they’d notified the program for aid—you could use the [Map] to do that but it was ineffective in large numbers like these.

Alexander thought about using the main street for travel but soon saw a charging cybernetic rhino ramming a work truck over (right, some worlds were deep into the future).

Alexander wisely decided against using the main street and opted for the side roads and the alleys instead, determining that they were the safer, albeit slower option. His team followed behind while a war raged around them: bullets, magic, explosives, countless beasts and terrors, many of which he couldn’t identify.

They had cut across Horus Street quickly, weaving through the foot traffic of Slayer Teams and assorted units, and ducked into a sideroad going into the next. Gravel crunched beneath their feet, the pebbles bouncing—high, violently like water on a speaker. Alexander stopped first, halting everyone’s tracks.

Althea asked what was going on, but she was given her answer when the ground began shaking. Not because of the explosions or powerful magic. This was something close. It came in an uneven, odd rhythm like an unsteady heart. Before Alexander could deduce what this thing was…

The left wall exploded into a dusty mist five meters in front of them, pieces of concrete and bricks flying everywhere. A large gray thing emerged having more muscles than a bodybuilder on steroids; it had six arms and its feet were more like solid stones. It ignored Alba and barreled into the next wall across, smashed through, and kept going.

From the first hole it made, a team of six Slayers followed after. One saw Alba and apologetically waved. “Sorry!” he had said before they continued their chase, and a distant roar was heard.

“What the hell was that?” Vernon asked, bewildered, clutching tightly to his [Energy Rifle]. “That exists?”

“It’s the multiverse, what do you expect?” snapped Althea.

“Whatever, let’s go!” Alexander urged before moving forward. Let’s hope that team knows what they’re doing.

Unfortunately they didn’t take more than twenty steps before the next thing happened. They stepped into Enma Street as people clamored and fingers were pointed: above them. A massive red portal opened, about fifteen meters in length and double that in width. No one could see what type of world lied beyond the portal as the monster pushed through like a newborn child.

It was a wondrous creature with scarlet scales as hard as diamonds, jagged and pointed forming an intimidating, yet captivating mosaic across its entire body. The surfaces reflected the moonlight, and the gold-fire discharges gave a glowing aura to the creature. Something that was divine almost. Sacred. Its wings were as long as airplanes and its talons were large enough to snatch whole houses from their foundations. From left to right, it searched with its jewelry jade eyes and opened its maw.

No one could mistake what it was. Everyone heard stories, read them; it was deeply embedded in many mythologies and cultures. They took on different appearances and symbolism but always, they remained familiar and distinct. When the world had acknowledged the multiverse’s existence, many had theorized what sort of wonders were out there. Species created in different environments, in different circumstances. Of them all, the world was interested in one the most.

“A fucking dragon?!” exclaimed Alexander from extreme frustration and disbelief. He shouted again, cursing, but his eyes were drowned out by, well, everything.

As soon as the dragon revealed itself, no one held back. The soldiers unloaded their belts and magazines, fired their rockets and used their artillery; the Slayers casted all sorts of magic from dozens of different systems, and the turrets were put into overdrive, firing high-power magical projectiles that would surely drain their supply rapidly.

The dragon was stormed with explosions, both chemical and magical. Its scales were chipped, broken and snapped off revealing the soft flesh inside. The wings were especially targeted, receiving countless tears and holes that would soon make flight impossible. One of its eyes was destroyed. Pieces of its fangs fell from its jaw. Blood poured from its wounds.

It didn’t take more than twenty seconds for the dragon to be killed; nothing could withstand this much firepower unleashed in a short amount of time. As soon as its death was even suspected, more shouts rang and a dozen Slayers stepped out onto the road. With their magic, the dragon was surrounded in a multi-colored aura, held up in the air. There, everybody could see what they had done: it’d been skinned alive, wounded so greatly that its raw belly was split open and organs teased an exit.

The mages twisted their glowing hands and tore the dragon into smaller, manageable pieces, placing them on the sidewalk where they wouldn’t be nuisances. Smart. It would’ve been terrible if the dragon was allowed to fall. The corpse alone could destroy entire buildings and block the roads; by controlling its descent and cutting it up, it’d prevent both.

“That was a dragon,” Damien said rather calmly. “Emphasis on the ‘was’.”

Alexander questioned his life decisions leading to this moment and continued onwards to Third Order. It took about four minutes of running, and would've been cut down to three if it wasn’t for the various detours. The next road was occupied (rock golems) so they went through an orthodontist, came through to witness a Slayer Team taking down a two-headed squid, ignored that and found large spiders crawling up a building which was soon engulfed in flames by several fire-practicing Slayers (as they should), and that was only a fraction of the insanity they’d witnessed.

The last part was when they finally arrived at Someone’s Car Lot (the sign had fallen and became unrecognizable), and the threat was prominently obvious: a troll, abnormally tall at twelve feet. A fat one too, having a pronounced gut that flapped around each time it turned. And it was ugly. Its mouth was permanently open due to its twisted yellow-black teeth, a cyst for a nose, and red, crusted eyes.

It’d been hurt. Blood stained its chest and soaked its loincloth red. It preferred leaning on its left leg instead of its right; no kidding, there was a large stab wound on the right foot. A fair bit away, Alexander spotted a fallen street lamp with the broken end bloody.

Leona tugged on his sleeve and pointed to inside the dealership. Slayers were inside alongside wounded soldiers; they were trapped. “I think that’s them.”

Alexander looked closer and nodded: he saw Slayers inside, a few wounded, alongside injured soldiers. That was definitely them. “Well, we know why they need help. Looks like Sage’s program is a bit faulty because in what fucking world can we deal with that?”

The troll swiveled around, revealing that its eyes were shut and bleeding. That was why it hadn’t destroyed the dealership yet; it was blind as a bat. Fruitlessly it swinged its club—which was more like a small tree than anything—batting away cars, scratching the asphalt, tearing the place up.

“We can do it,” Damien assured him. “It’s blind and helpless, incredibly wounded too. We have the upper hand. It’s simply a matter of finding the right course of action. Think, Alex. You’re smart enough to solve this puzzle.”

“I hate puzzles…” Alexander grumbled and looked around. Immediately, he spotted a manhole cover. His eyes switched between the heavy metal plate and the troll. “I think I got it. Thea, lighten the manhole for me; Leo, after I do my thing, use [Red Banner] on the back of its left knee so it’d fall. If that doesn’t work, then Damien and Vernon will make sure it falls. You guys got it?”

Everyone nodded and hummed, and Alexander drank a [Power Potion].

[Your Power has increased by 3 for 1 minute!]

[Power: E9 (+3) → E9 (+6)]

“Good, let’s go!”

Damien and Vernon stayed back as Alexander went off with the women. The Shens approached the manhole cover, and Althea placed a hand on the dirty, crusted metal.

[Rune - Decrease Gravitational Pull]

“Thanks!” Alexander said before lifting it. Normally, these things weighed about two-fifty. Now? A fraction, something he could hold with one hand—most likely due to his Power. “Heads up, Leo!” he called before spinning around, eyeing his target.

[Skill Activation: Certain Shot]

At the end of the spin, he released the manhole cover and it curved directly into the troll’s skull. The mass was unchanged, so with the velocity that Alexander had given it, the cover banged a deep dent into the troll’s head, bounced off.

The troll groaned, dazed with its skull caved in, stumbling around like a drunk. The club slipped from its hand, no longer able to hold it. With its bad foot, the troll couldn’t stand for long.

And so Leona struck.

[Skill Activation: Hwaseong First Arte - Red Banner]

A crimson strike cleaved the tendons and muscles on the back of its left knee. A louder groan came from the troll, tried to step forward but couldn’t. It simply leaned and dropped face-first, raising a cloud of dust from the impact.

The three regrouped near the fallen troll as it laid unmoving.

Althea murmured, “Is it dead…?”

Alexander equipped his S68, pressed the barrel against the skull, and fired a few times.

The girls blankly stared at him.

His lips straightened. “You have to be thorough about these things.”

Now, it was time to aid Third Order. According to the leader, Advance, there was initially a pack of trolls with the one Alba had killed being its leader. Three members of Third Order were wounded and unfortunately some troops were caught in the crossfire with the injured needing immediate medical attention.

While initially embarrassed that they were saved by Pseudos, they were grateful. Surprised too, seeing Vernon being a part of the group.

“I thought Fusil told you off?” asked Advance with a slight smile.

“He did, but y’know me, I love the danger,” Vernon answered, trying to sound tougher than he was. But Advance chuckled, nodding.

“Alright,” Alexander got their attention, gesturing to a blue screen he had up. “The nearest medical station is at Vatican Inspirations. We got a team of teleporters coming to our location, ETA two minutes.”

“Can’t they just pop in and take us out?” asked Althea indignantly.

“Yeah, but there’s a waiting list.” Alexander frowned, watching the streets outside. “We unfortunately didn't get the premium package.”

“Oh, fuck you—“

***

Third Order and the soldiers were transported to Vatican Inspirations, some sort of office building, where they would get treatment from the medics and healers. Advance quickly gave his thanks before Alba set out again.

This time, they were at Edens, between the second and third perimeter of the eastern side.

They waited on the sidewalk while Alexander inputted the mission update into the System.

“There’s not much on updates in regards to Gallery,” said Leona as she scrolled through the chat. “I hope they’re doing well. It’s been almost ten minutes now.”

“This is the best time to channel every bit of optimism you have left,” Damien advised. “After you know, having witnessed atrocities.”

“Y’know,” Althea began,” you should really use your brain before you speak.”

Damien clicked his tongue. “Do you always have to insult me, Alex?”

“Wrong one,” Alexander corrected, focused on his screen still.

“Oh right, sorry.” Damien cleared his throat. “Do you always have to insult me, Althea?”

“How’s the program coming along?” asked Vernon, who was cleaning his [Energy Revolver].

Alexander sighed, peeved. “This fucking thing keeps giving me errors. I’m trying to troubleshoot—“

[SLAYER SYSTEM ALERT]

A SPATIAL DISTORTION HAS BEEN DETECTED IN THE FOLLOWING COORDINATES!

Dammit all, it’d better not be a dragon—

When Alexander raised his head, he saw the portal appear at the far end of the street, close to the second perimeter. High above the buildings, but aimed completely downwards. Large, about ten meters in length and width.

There was water on the other side of the portal.