The Light of Dawn, Angelo Lawrence, was many things.

Patient wasn't one of them.

When the bus dropped us off at the east gate leading out onto Old Highway Sixty, we were twenty minutes early. I grabbed my bags and carried them to a flatbed semi truck trailer helpfully labeled 'Delver Gear, Overnight and Personal,' then tossed them inside. The rest of the team followed me. Jeff was weighed down by so many bags that even he seemed to be struggling with them, and Yasmin had little more than a single backpack on one shoulder.

Angelo had set up near one of the two dozen brightly-painted and graffiti-covered semis. He wouldn't stop pacing; the rest of his team stood nearby, looking over a handful of paper maps, tablets, and papers, but he ignored them all. Deborah Callahan, the Portal Tyrant, The Spark of Life, and two other A-Rankers I didn't recognize, and he had them on ignore, too.

Two teams in full, well-kept armor stood nearby, one with the Roadrunners' symbol, and the other with the Portal Tyrants'. And a smaller cluster of Roadrunners had gathered near a semi truck. They looked like a mix of supports, healers, and archers, and none of them was better equipped than Jeff.

But we were the first of the independents to arrive. And Angelo seemed almost furious about that.

By the time the last of the handful of solo C-Rankers stepped out of the passenger side of a minivan and grabbed her bags, he was all but murdering her with his glare, and his aura pushed down threateningly on everyone around him. He waited, eyes fixed, until she'd dropped off her bag, then cleared his throat.

"The Governing Council has authorized me to act as the commander of this relief and resupply expedition. I am Angelo Lawrence, the Light of Dawn. The objective of this expedition is to safely move two dozen semi-truck trailers' worth of requested, necessary supplies across the desert via Old Highway Sixty, help the Carlsbad Fortress defenders with any abnormal pressure they're facing, and return home. The estimated time our mission will take is two to three weeks."

He stopped for a moment. "This time includes a four-day run across the desert."

Ellen fidgeted. She was thinking about Deimos. She had to be.

"And yes, before anyone asks, the trip can theoretically be done in twelve hours. The convoy cannot safely move at full speed, and our objective is to safely move the convoy from here to Carlsbad Fortress. We will be taking our time and ensuring we complete that objective."

Ellen's shoulders slumped.

"Our force is laid out as follows," Deborah Callahan said. "The mixed A and S-Rank team is our main hammer and strike force. They'll be supported by one B-Rank team each from the Portal Tyrants and Roadrunners, which will cover smaller threats and handle any portals the strike force is too busy to manage.

"That leaves four C-Rank teams—three independents and one mixed guild. Two teams will be on patrol and reconnaissance duty during the days, and two will be on security duty when we make camp each night."

I couldn't help but feel her glare on me as she laid out the strategy. She hadn't made a move since before the portal surge, but it was painfully obvious that she hadn't forgotten that I'd turned her offer down. I focused on not making eye contact; it was better for both of us if I pretended we didn't have an issue and hoped she could fake it, too.

"And, finally, a handful of support and replacement delvers to act as a reserve for the C and B-Rank teams," she finished.

Angelo took over again. "The chain of command for this operation is as follows: myself, then Terrel Young and Sarah Cullman, then the A-Rankers on my team, then everyone else. Deborah Callahan will be in control in the event that an S-Ranker is not available.

"In the interest of leaving in the next twenty-four minutes, please send one member of your respective teams to talk with each of my team members about the route, potential stopping locations, your roles, expected dangers, and so on. Then, brief each other on what we tell you once we are moving."

I stared at the six high-rankers as Sophia peeled off from our group and headed toward The Spark of Life. Within a handful of seconds, it was down to just Jeff, Yasmin, and me. When she aimed for the A-Ranked support, I looked at Jeff.

He looked back at me. An eyebrow went up. "You want the tank or the Light of Dawn? Your choice, but I know you've got a problem with her."

I grimaced. Neither option was good; Angelo was on edge about our timing, and Deborah wanted me dead. Then I shrugged.

"Alright. I'll take the Light of Dawn, then," Jeff said. "I think he'll have better information for me."

"Got it." I steeled myself, gritted my teeth, and headed across the parking lot toward the waiting, glaring A-Rank tank.

"Hello, delvers," Deborah said. "I'm handling convoy tactics and role assignments. Gather around."

I stared at her and nodded as she pulled up a video on a tablet. It represented a simplified version of the convoy. "The large circle is the main convoy. The strike team is gold, B-Rank teams are red, and C-Rank ones are blue."

Two blue teams orbited the convoy, about a mile out from the trucks. The north team did half a revolution toward the east, running at a quick sprint, then stopped and posted up while the southern team waited first, then moved when the north team stopped. Each team leapfrogged the central trucks on their way up and was leapfrogged as they waited in turn.

"This is the standard patrol formation. It'll hold any time we're not in canyon country. There should always be a C-Rank team in front of the trucks and one behind them. A B-Rank team will always be on duty at the trucks, and the strike team will be ready. I need two volunteer teams for patrol duty."

One of the independent team's reps raised her hand. A second later, I did, too.

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"Perfect." Deborah smiled at me like a predator. "The other two teams will ride and sleep, then keep watch over the convoy at night.

"As for threat assessment, the plan is for the B-Rank teams to take care of any threats in the C and B-Rank range. Recon and patrol teams are free to engage and E and D-Rank monsters, and may engage C-Ranks after contacting the convoy's GC rep. Speaking of which, this is Derrick."

Derrick waved. Unlike the typical GC rep, he wore a T-shirt under a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, along with shorts. "I'll be coordinating threat responses from the lead truck. Call in anything you hear."

"Right." Deborah kept talking for a while, about proper procedures if we got hit by an A-Rank monster, how to handle multiple contacts, and what to do if the strike team was operating in our zone. The answer to that was, essentially, to run away. Fast. The Light of Dawn's skill set was ridiculously strong, but highly indiscriminate if he put his full power into it.

Then, after about ten minutes, she dismissed us. "Oh, Delver Noelstra, stick around for a minute," she said, almost as an afterthought.

I braced myself. Tallas's Dueling Blade was ready to be summoned, and Cheddar was only a second behind it. But that likely wouldn't be enough; I remembered her duel with the other A-Ranker in the Peoria GC center. As she walked toward me, I braced myself.

Then Deborah Callahan pushed herself in close, leaned down, and muttered, "You're a lucky boy. Angelo's got his eye on you. I'm nowhere near stupid enough to try something right under his nose. For the next two weeks, we're on the same team."

The hate poured off her, so thick I could smell it. But I stared her in the eye, stuck out a hand despite the pressure her aura was putting off, and waited until she gritted her teeth and shook it. "Glad to be on the team, Delver Callahan."

When she was done trying to crush my knuckles and I'd pushed as much Stamina into the hand-shaped bruise that covered my fingers and palm as I could, I turned and walked back toward my team.

The Wickenberg portal, Lake Pleasant, and the White Tanks formed a triangle of green land to the northwest of Phoenix. There, water from the portal break flooded into the fields that kept Phoenix more or less sustainable. It was a forbidden zone; the Guardsmen guild kept it locked down tight. Only essential personnel in and out, all portals suppressed, and so on. But it was a paradise, in contrast to the mostly abandoned Surprise district just inside the walls from it.

Unfortunately for us, we left through the east side.

By the time the convoy rolled through Apache Junction, the city's buildings were covered in drifts of sand, the road's asphalt was cracked and pitted so badly that the semi trucks were bouncing on their oversized tires, and we'd intercepted and killed four separate E and D-Ranked groups of monsters, including a swarm of goblins that had taken us almost five minutes to massacre.

Between the fighting and the moving, we stood on a hill overlooking the abandoned outskirts of Phoenix as the convoy plodded through it. Half of the sand-covered buildings had been at least partially disassembled, their bricks and concrete added to the 303 Wall's bulk.

I was still thinking about Deborah. There was no way she wasn't planning something sneaky and underhanded.

"One thing I don't understand," Sophia said between patching up a savage cut on Raul's leg and standing around looking bored, "is why the relief convoy's so slow. Not travel time, but the time it took to get it assembled and moving. It seems like if there's an emergency out there, they'd want us there as fast as possible."

Ellen nodded. She was at half Mana, but it was regenerating at a pretty good clip. "It does seem bad, logistically speaking.

Jeff shrugged. "Not really. Carlsbad's been outside of our main communications lines since the portal break. The Texas cities don't do much to support it, either. That leaves it self-sufficient for most stuff, and the stuff they bring in from Phoenix comes every three months."

"And that means it makes sense, logistically speaking?" Ellen raised an eyebrow incredulously. "I don't think so."

"It means Carlsbad always orders a little more than they need. Look at what we're shipping. Medical supplies, extra portal-metal armor, stuff like that. We're not shipping food or anything essential."

Sophia snorted. "Medical supplies seem essential."

I chimed in as the convoy pushed past the last of the destroyed ruins and into the saguaro-covered hills beyond. "Not really. You're one C-Rank healer. How many people do you think you could keep healthy for a week, assuming normal injuries for each rank?"

"A dozen or two? More if I could spread them out a bit."

"They have three A-Rank healers at Carlsbad Fortress. Medical issues aren't an issue unless they're something incurable like Jessie's joints. And in that case, they'd be pulled back to Phoenix. So, nothing they're ordering constitutes an emergency, but it'd be nice if people could take a pill instead of draining a healer's Mana."

"Time to move," Yasmin said.

We grabbed our day packs and water bottles. The wind hadn't kicked up yet, but all six of us were dust-covered and filthy already. Not to mention sweat-covered. Then we took off at a quick job—a sustainable pace for a pack of C-Rankers, even with Sophia's lack of practice.

The desert stretched on ahead of us, while our road turned north. We'd moved for an hour when the radio crackled. "Team C-Alpha, stop and observe," Derrick said.

"Got it." Ellen grabbed a pair of binoculars around her neck. She gazed into the desert, battle pigtails blowing slightly in the hot breeze. "Nothing out there. I'm not picking up any monsters to the north. Checking northwest…"

Then she froze. "Dust cloud. Five, maybe six miles out. I can't get a read on it, but whatever it is, it's big. We'll move to intercept."

"Understood. I'm deploying B-Omega to cover you. You may need to assist them. Get ready for a fight."

The radio went silent, and I summoned Tallas's Dueling Blade.

Queen Mother Yalerox was tired of being inevitable.

She wanted that fortress, and she wanted it now.

After her first, all-crushing storm of children had broken itself on the fortress's walls, she'd withdrawn all but a few. Damn the voice in her head urging her onward. She'd conquer. She'd kill. But she'd do it the way she'd subjugated an entire continent, not the way a whispering voice demanded.

The few children who'd kept some semblance of their minds—the ones she'd feasted on only a few hours before—became her most trusted servants. She sent them out, not to kill, but to learn.

What they learned gave Queen Mother Yalerox complete and utter confidence.

The fortress she was trying to conquer was nothing but an outpost for a city far in the distance. They talked through massive towers in the desert, but those towers were unguarded. And, more importantly, those towers were rarely used. When they were, the responses came slowly. Sometimes, a day or two passed between them.

After four days of watching, during which time only a single pair of message was sent before the towers went quiet for three entire days, Queen-Mother Yalerox ordered her children to attack. To destroy one. Just one. Nothing more. Then, when it was done, they retreated into the desert and watched.

Seven days passed. Then eight.

No one came to look.

Queen Mother Yalerox put the rest of her plan into action. There were four more towers close enough for her brood to reach them. She removed them from the board.

Then, the siege commenced.

Unlike her first assault, Queen Mother Yalerox didn't order her children to war and bloodshed. Plenty of them charged the walls regardless. They attacked without thought or strategy, driven mad by the whispered bloodlust that affected her mind.

But enough listened to her orders that the fortress was encircled. And when it was, she worked her magic.

It would take a long time to finish her spell. But Queen Mother Yalerox wasn't the Paragon of the Hurricane for nothing. She wasn't an A-Ranked monster for nothing. The God of Thunder had blessed her with two—two—visits to his world. Truly, she was a chosen conqueror.

The fortress would learn that she was inevitable.

And that the time for inevitability was coming to an end, and the time of conquest was beginning.

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