+ Reid +

After an hour long shower that pruned his fingertips, Reid was almost entirely certain he'd washed all the gore off himself properly. He emerged to find a fresh set of clothing, and a note that food would be delivered to the room next door. He spent some time summoning weapons and armor out of his storage devices until Isobel knocked and entered, a tray with three steaming hot dishes in her hands.

Reid barely heard what she said, but she left the tray with him and excused herself from the room almost immediately, after a long look at the growing piles of bone armor and armaments.

One of the dishes was a creamy, starchy concoction that seemed a bit like cheap alfredo sauce over penne pasta. Another consisted of spiraled sweet fruit and spiraled, charred meat of some kind. The salt and fat of the meat mixed with the sweetness of the fruit in a truly great way - the only thing that kept it from perfection, honestly, was the cinnamon. It wasn't just Dayo Sovni that loved the spice. The third plate had a large loaf of bread - which Reid regretted leaving for last when he realized it was stuffed with a myriad of vegetables and cheeses. He devoured each in short order, and quickly set himself back to the work of summoning items from storage. The ring - and his necklace - were handy, but they were slow. In a fit of impatience, Reid switched one hand and part of his attention to crafting simple high-grade spears while the other continued pulling bolt throwers from storage. He kept crafting and summoning, but his mind was elsewhere.

Lycra was okay.

His small, wide-eyed friend had made it through the tutorial. Heck, he'd done it nearly as quickly as Reid had himself. That alone was impressive and worthy of celebration. But beyond that, he'd formed his own faction, and was now united with Hugo. For his friend - and his new friend - it could only mean good things. His mind daydreamed through what kinds of intricate and magnificent handheld devices Lycra was capable of creating now. He pictured scenes of Lycra and Hugo finding each other and learning they had knowing him in common, Hugo taking the lead as he told Lycra of how the two of them had performed in the tutorial together. He idly wondered what Lycra's soul would look like to Hugo. And he started to imagine the three of them connecting with one another, reuniting where Reid made a flashy entrance on his pair of magic wings.

The daydreams gave way to a growing need for proper rest, and Reid relented from his continuous weapons preparation to allow himself to sleep.

He awoke to a glint of morning sun drifting in through the too-tall windows, over the top of a set of lush curtains he hadn't really noticed the day before. Reid started then stopped a bit of mental math. It was probably morning. But that didn't much matter. His job here was basically done. The room had enough kit to see the townspeople safe for a while, though they would need to sort through the literal piles of bonecrafted equipment themselves. Reid was getting the heck out of here, onto the next town - and the next step to reuniting with friends.

He stretched, then tiptoed around a pile of armor plates that had spilled out onto the middle of the floor as he slept. The door creaked open to reveal Isobel, kneeling with another tray of food in her hands. The kneeling was weird - and needed to stop - but the thing that really caught Reid off guard was the other half dozen locals that were each kneeling with plates and trays of their own.

"Isobel," Reid started. "What... ah, what is this?"

She kept her head down towards the floor. "Offerings for you, my Lord."

Reid frowned. "I appreciate the thought, but - this is a bit much. I'd prefer a quiet breakfast. And this feels too much like something Hester would've made you do. I'm not like him."

He caught the flush of her face as she stammered out the next sentence. "O-of c-course, Lord. It is an offense to compare you to someone like him."

That didn't sound right, but Reid brushed it off. "It's fine. Let's just grab one of these platters to share, and you and your brother can join me for a talk."

The half dozen bowed individuals nodded and retreated rather gracefully without fully standing. Minutes later, Isaiah burst through the door to Reid's temporary room, where he'd cleared off floorspace for the two siblings to sit. They both seemed even more reserved than they had been yesterday, with an odd light in their eyes. They'd experienced a lot of change in a short amount of time, so that much was to be expected.

What followed was more monologue than conversation. Reid informed the two of the state of their larger world, the threat of Belar, and the fate of the king and the prince. They seemed far less surprised and shocked that Reid had met the prince than he expected them to be. Their greatest reaction was when Reid reiterated his desire for them to act as leaders for the rest of the town, to keep them all safe, and make sure someone like Hester didn't end up in charge again. Based on their looks when he asked what the town decided to do with the man, Hester was not going to be an issue again. They got their copy of the blueprints for the bolt throwers, instructions to train up capable crafters to make sure they stayed fight ready, and a few general rules to follow.

As the conversation died down, Reid began to notice the growing noise outside. He had kept the windows closed, but the sound drifted in through the glass. It was... singing? He tried to focus on the sound, and clearly heard 'Serroc' in the tune.

Reid cocked a brow at the two Vuxarinans in front of him and pointed at the window.

"What is that?"

They traded a glance, and Isobel answered. "It is your congregation, Lord."

"MY. WHAT."

Isaiah bowed to the floor. "We apologize, your radiant eminence, if we have not done enough. Only two-thirds of the townspeople were ready to pledge themselves to you, even with your promise to freely open the blessings of your beacon to them. We will ensure the rest bow to your greatness."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Reid ran a hand down his face. "No! Don't do that! Why would you do that?"

They traded another glance and Isobel took the conversation up. "To uphold the tenets you bestowed upon us yesterday, my Lord. To grow your congregation through the faction invitations, and spread the word of your deeds to all. To make them worthy of your continued favor and act as your heralds in this lowly town. Dayo Evni shall know your salvation, and your grace."

Reid was slack-jawed as Isaiah echoed his sister's enthusiastic answer. "True. And we have made all aware of your unfathomable might, and your status as that of above any king or man. Your eminence shall be known as a just and good God to your faithful, and a wrathful God to your enemies."

He blanched, and the remnants of a half-listened conversation pulled themselves up in his memories. When he was overcome with emotion, when his mind was focused on Lycra... These two had asked him if his faction was his congregation. They asked if he was more powerful than Hester. And Reid's answer had been 'Yes'. Which should have been fine, or good, or totally harmless.

That was, unless there had been something Reid missed here. His gaze tracked out the door open to the hallway and up the wall, where a painting hung proudly. It depicted Hester surrounded by a bright glowing light.

The town couldn't have been swayed into forming some kind of cult under Hester, right? They weren't all that stupid and gullible, right?

Isobel was mouthing along with the song that drifted in.

"DAMNIT. Both of you. Stop all of this. I'm not a god, or a lord, or any of that," He pinched his nose. "Tell me there's some gruff old drunk fisherman or someone sane I can talk to."

They shared another look, and shrugged their shoulders at him. Reid was very, very done with this town and their bullshit. He wasn't staying here to waste time on these idiots. If they wanted to worship someone, let them. Crazy stupid fucks.

"Okay. Well, it's been... yeah. Congrats on being free from Hester - I have to go. Stop trying to convince people I'm a god. And, you know, keep the town safe and don't hurt anyone."

Reid ignored Isobel and Isaiah's objections and shouts. His feet carried him swiftly through the building, where he saw portraits of Hester being taken down by Vuxarinans, and at least one was hoisting a poorly-painted depiction of Reid into place. He picked up the pace, half running past the fancy doors and curtains that stretched as long as a hotel hallway. He wanted out. Out of the building, and out of this crazy damn town. After what felt like way too long, Reid shoved open the oversized double doors he'd first entered from.

That was a mistake, too.

A massive singing crowd went silent as he burst through the doors, and stared on in awe. There were women and men, children and the elderly, in a crowd large enough that it should have been impossible for them all to be nuts. Still, each looked at him with starry, eager eyes. It was the single creepiest thing he'd ever experienced. Flustered, Reid shouted the first thing that came to mind.

"Stop that! Don't worship people! I'm not a god, and nobody else is, either!"

Reid hastily pushed power into his legs, and leapt into the air as he pulled hard to activate his arcane skill. He took wing, eagerly pumping his ethereal appendages until the town - and its crazy, messed-up inhabitants became small and indistinct behind him.

"Well, that was an experience."

"Fucking hell, Nyx. Those people were NUTS. Absolutely nuts."

"They were pretty tame, honestly. Overall, not a bad first set of worshippers."

"You said first. Why did you say first, Nyx?"

"So... a few of the fictions you read had that saying - any sufficiently advanced technology looks like magic. Well, reimagine that with power. Any sufficiently powerful person or phenomenon looks like a deity to regular folks. Add some misguided, eager people who want an answer to their problems or something to put their belief in, and voila - you get those that want to worship the powerful. Usually not a whole town, at least not this close to an awakening, I guess. But yeah. Strong people draw in those kinds of reactions, and you're a strong person. It's going to happen more than once, guaranteed."

Reid groaned.

"Oh stop that. You seemed pretty amused that Sara had her own religion. Don't mope about yours."

"But they're crazy!"

"Yes. Because the rational, grounded, and sane are so often the source of nascent religious groups."

"Alright, alright! I get it. At least I don't have to deal with them again. Maybe they'll drop the whole thing."

"Because you told them to?"

"Yes."

"Right before you flew away on glowing wings?"

"FUCK."

).-. Beatrice .-.(

Beatrice watched the console intently, her attention wholly focused on the remaining two 'feeds'.

Her target - the Soulcrusher - had slipped her noose and was now connected to another outlier of a threat. He was an alien, but interestingly was not one of her troops. And he was... highly capable. She now had three high-level threats on her planet. A seemingly invincible barbarian, a ridiculously overpowered soul mage, and a tech-focused crafter that could run circles around the 'experts' Belar provided for the step-down equipment manufacturing. None of them had a fraction of an idea how the Tiny Tyrant managed to reclaim the materials from their power armor suits, nor how he'd made a capable, shoulder-fired plasma cannon. Those were normally only seen on midsized frigates and heavily armed destroyers. They were not something people just carried around and shot. There were other glimpses in the recordings of a flying ship within his tutorial space.

Just how had she managed to get stuck with all these crazy assholes?

To make matters worse, communications were starting to break down, and the only messages she was getting through were from her Aunt. Bettany had some sort of plan she wanted to enact, and Bea was doing her best to ignore the woman. When she really wanted something, she would call. Until then, the revised plan was going to take the majority of Bea's attention. She just needed to figure out where they were. Then, she was going to be far more subtle in her work. She had infiltrators at the ready, and proof for the boy. If they could just turn him, it would make everything else go down easy. She wanted a little easy.

Of the golems that made it down into the tunnels, three had so far met their end when they encountered the worms. Awful creatures, the things used stone magic to pin her creations, where they expended too much power trying to escape, until they died. One more golem was on the fritz now, barely enough power left to transmit video and walk at the same time. The image shuddered, then failed. No luck there.

The last golem she didn't have high hopes for. It had gotten lost, twice, and snapped off its antenna that allowed it to properly transmit data while underground. Every hour or so, it pinged a single image back to them over a higher-energy connection that was able to penetrate the ground covering it.

Her fingers tapped against the surface of her desk as seconds and minutes ticked by. Bea was nearly ready to call off the search entirely when she finally got what she wanted.

A fuzzy image popped onscreen. It showed a tunnel, much like the rest, except that there was a dead worm inside. The beast had been left to decay, its work forever half-finished as the space around it was rough with dirt and stone. But the beast had gotten just far enough. The end of the tunnel ahead sported a hole less than two feet wide. She pushed her face up towards the screen.

Through the hole, and far below the deceased worm's tunnel, a cavernous-looking space was set with straight lines of tall structures.

Bea shuddered in excitement.

They'd found the locals.

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