A sure purpose animated every team, and methods guaranteed of success were employed by all of them except Cadmos's. “Spying. Dressing up as exotic dragons to give slayers practice. Watching a dozen interpretations of the public domain R**** H*** legend in a room with Theena backers who boo when he uses a bow or quarterstaff instead of a sword. All worthy pursuits, but not pressing.” Ben I. Sloup slammed both his hands on the podium they had rescued from the latest failed Cadmos Dome and leaned forward. “The pressing concern is how we stop that oaf from doing a fireball.”

Burmin Trivvis frowned. “Wait. Is it so bad for him to have a fireball? Other archetypes have projectiles.”

Ben lifted the podium over his head in preparation for a round of Rare Correction, the fun game you can play with only one player and one argumentative two-star. Burmin Trivvis winced and braced for impact, but there was a power at work that exceeded everyday understanding: the power of friendship. The podium returned to its place. “Now that you mention it, the problem is solved if that nincompoop can get out a more exciting projectile. Throwing his sword. A spread shot or boomerang-type attack.” In some dialects, “friendship” is defined as “interest in the exotic or novel,” the same way “broken character” means “I remember losing to this character in Ranked.”

King Ostros poked Ben with the big foam finger he had salvaged from the original stadium's terrible wreck before an elephant stepped on it. “Before we allow fancy its fields of frolic, I can't help but think the point you wanted to raise was something along the lines of, 'How do we get that ninny to stop doing something he can't even do?' Unless one of you has seen him release a fireball, perhaps after a bowl of Chaos Cuisine chili.”

Saptres Muria had taken away nothing from the Cadmos Dome save his wits. Which were not building materials. Nice try, Strategist. “Fancy might come into it after all. Is it an easier task to remove something or to alter it?”

“Do you refer to a Rare or a dog made out of toothpicks? My answer will differ based on yours.” The terrible finger of Ostros poked Saptres to emphasize the insincere threat.

“It's about an Ultra Rare who was once a Rare.”

“How convenient. Let's rid ourselves of that burden.”

“Good idea.” Ulrik pulled stationery out from his floppy sleeves. “The letter-writing campaign to remove that load from the spinoff begins now. First, draw lots to determine who will claim to be a lawyer, a programmer who can't believe what a mess the code is, a busy mother of three, and a longtime fan of Commandment of Hero who's disappointed in the game's current direction.”

“That last one was made for me. I've been here since launch, and I used to receive Ultra Rare alts. Now? Stagnation.”

Saptres pushed away the finger, and Ostros permitted the act in a spirit of joviality which obviated the need for any of that last-minute friendship nonsense. “I'll be the programmer, since that's part of the logistics of the modern day.”

“And I'll be the mother of three, because right now I genuinely feel like the mother of seven.” Hemt T. Elf grabbed the podium away from Ben, set it down again, and coughed. “We should, presuming we want to make any progress here, a fact I increasingly doubt, get on with something or other. Saptres Muria wins by default since he actually made a suggestion. We'll try to adjust the move instead of eliminating it. First I want to know, which move is it? Challenging Blade? Domination Blade? Challenging Blade again? I haven't memorized all the Skill Stars.”

Solemn Declaration dropped a stack of index cards on the podium before Hemt. “I had these flashcards made up for that.”

“I just did all that bragging when I was the slacker the whole time. It's no more than what I deserve, even if I prefer not to get it. Let's see. Me, Ulrik, non-king Ostros, Taiphan Ninx . . . are these in any kind of order?”

“No. That would defeat the purpose.”

“Azalea 1 and Azalea 2, Castru, Waltzing Matilda . . . Indifferent Arrow? She never had a chance with skill names like those. This could take more time than I anticipated initially.” Burmin Trivvis raised his halberd. “Yeah, keep talking among yourselves while I flip through these.”

“There's probably a reason for it, why don't we just ask Cadmos?” The other bland boys glared at him. “He's right here.” They glared harder. “I mean in this room. He's been here the whole time. Even if he weren't, it would be faster to ask him than oof!”

Ulrik shook his fingers out as if punching Burmin Trivvis right in his wholly cosmetic armor hurt his hand somehow, which gave him grounds to play the part of the aggrieved. “We were doing a bit. You ruined it, and no one will talk to you ever again. Cadmos. Which skill is your troublesome fireball?”

“Well, first of all, I'm still going to talk to you, Burmin.”

“Thanks, Cadmos.”

“Second of all, the board labeled it Eclipse Overflow, which is odd. I don't expect you to remember that was the name of my Nova for a bunch of the story. It won't be on my flashcard unless it was made before the second half of Part 2.”

“I'll tell you when I find it. Who's Uamna?”

“She's an Ultra Rare Flood Medic from Tremdrado who works as part of the DeMereanch family's medical staff, Hemt.”

“Yeah? Human, luman, buman, stuman, centaur, phoenix, hydra, skuman, or ursit?”

“Human.”

“This may be my age speaking, but I'm coming around to the idea that we have too many of everything in this game. I say that in full and complete awareness that the only thing keeping me relevant is that I'm pretty good for a free Christmas gift.” Hemt flicked one of his little bells so that it rang with the sad chime of self-knowledge.

“This is no time for reflection.” Ulrik stopped himself from adding “you idiots,” but quickly reversed that hasty decision. “You idiots.”

“I don't endorse that last part, but Ulrik is right, you idiots.” King Ostros turned his giant finger on Cadmos. “Our focus is on this guy here. Happy birthday, little guy.”

“If it's Eclipse Overflow . . . and that's his old Nova . . . then . . .” While not visible from the outside, everyone could tell lightning flashed and winds roared around the inside of Burmin Trivvis's Storm cranium. “Then it should be a lesser version of his Nova, shouldn't it? Like he should hold the fireball in front of him and not shoot it.”

“What good does that do? Waste time?” Saptres Muria's expression had been trending toward amused condescension, but it halted where it was and pulled a sick U-turn to head toward Sincerity City. “Is there a time-wasting archetype?”

“A dean of delay? A warden of waiting? A tyrant of timer scams?A fighter who gets a small lead and sits on it to the end of the match? Never heard of one, but then, I've spent more time rummaging around in ruins to get foam fingers than I have in the fighting lounge.”

“Do you regret your choices now? The way I always seem to end up doing?”

King Ostros looked around at his comrades. “All right, do we take Hemt with us on a road trip and engage in improbable escapades until he learns to relax and enjoy life a little more? Ordinarily I wouldn't bother, but it's many months yet to Christmas. The inevitable jingling as we run from one crazy situation to another will sustain me over the coming carol-deprived months.”

“That sounds like an admirable suggestion to me, Ostros, but before that we should settle our current plans before we forget.” Cadmos scanned the room for agreement, but his minions refused to make eye contact. “Or have you all forgotten already? It's been about a minute. This could be a new record.”

“Record . . . time . . . timer scam. Yes. Of course I remember.” Ulrik's steam-powered Inferno brain at last caught up to Burmin's electrical version, and boy did he look smug about it. “Our aim is to revamp your moveset with a view toward wasting everyone's time. Finally, a faithful translation of an officer's personality and role in the story to a different genre. Unlike that Beruvo thing.”

“I don't like to criticize, but I did wonder if that was honestly the best way to implement Aerywe and Gaelvry. I chalked it up to having the resources as in budget and roster size to implement one of them and not wanting to choose. I'm not sure that makes sense, though. Even if Gaelvry's a secondary character, they still have to give her animations and sound effects. Now I'm doing it. Did Wruden Calx hide some device in these houses that makes it harder to concentrate?”

Cadmos laughed as he said that, but somewhere nearby, in a shipping container that said “Product” on its side, Wruden Calx gestured at 5* Hacker Foley to shut off the Blue Noise Generator before any experimental subjects started poking around.