At first, scant glimpses of both consciousness and surroundings revealed that we camped for a while before traversing the thin ravine. My first five minutes of truly being awake witnessed the nocturnal tree variant, much less enthusiastic now, getting torn apart by the crew. Later during a mountainside trek, I learned of Kwame’s death. Damn, I never apologized to him.

  Maybe it was a quirk of ascendance, maybe it was because most of my parts were still attached, or maybe I was just lucky. While the recovery comas persisted, the healing progressed a lot faster. Once we reached the Farm, partially rebuilt now, my body began listening again and a good long smoke calmed my nerves. We stayed there for a bit, ahead of schedule and back in touch with HQ. Most of the damage corrected itself in the next week, even my eye reformed. The coma’s still sted a couple of hours per day.

  Kim sat down next to me. We leaned against the newly erected wall. His gaze followed mine, towards my shaking hand.

  “Jitters acting up?” he asked, “No wonder. You’ve been out for some time. We can go blow up some snakedrop rocks, it’s not much but it’ll be fun at least.”

  Fun? “Kim, thanks but that’s not it. I’m just scared. I don’t want to fight. I don’t feel it anymore. I think my adrenaline addiction is… cured. This is me, terrified of what the future holds, certain we’re all going to die.”

  He took his time before responding, “I never heard of something like that happening, but it makes sense in a way. Do you remember, what you did?”

  “Nothing at all, I can barely believe we actually fought the dragon.”

  “Well, you killed it. And I do mean you. Even Jill just helped, but it had a creature, entirely dragonsteel, inside. We couldn’t hurt it, couldn’t even scratch it. And then you let go, nded on its back like a madman and pummeled it over and over. Almost before we knew what happened, it was dead. Whole thing took maybe ten seconds. It shot sers at you, blew parts of itself up to throw you off, set you on fire, but you just kept going. It was absolutely ridiculous, I’m still in awe. It’s a miracle you survived.”

  “I’m not sure I really did. I mean, what now? It feels a bit early to retire, but I don’t think I can fight like that again. There’s no pce for me in Syer Squad anymore. I’m just another dude, overwhelmed and crippled by this pce.”

  “Seriously, why are you worrying about things which don’t matter? You’ll always have a pce with us. Anyone who disagrees can take it up with me and everyone else. We don’t care if you’re just spectating. No one is kicking you out. Give it some time, you’ll find your feet again. At least you didn’t lose them this time around.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Still, I don’t want to hold you guys back.”

  “Hold us back? Are you joking? We’re alive thanks to you. If anything, we have some catching up to do. This only happened because you did what no one else could. The shame is ours, so stop beating yourself up, eh?”

  The others took their own turns not long after, checking up on me in pity, delivering empty assurances, praising me to a hollow high heaven. Elias went st. He stared, waiting for me to prompt him, silently saying I had to want his psychopathic wisdom.

  Shaking my head and lowering my gaze failed to dissuade him from trying. It wouldn’t matter. There was an irony in this. My battle-frenzies weren’t a true part of me, but they’d kept me alive, made me effective. Stats helped, but only carried me so far. They were more requirement than enablement. Being capable of fighting was one thing, doing it well quite another. Mindset mattered more, and so did aptitude.

  Even though I knew better, indulgence appealed. Some things never change.

  “Even you?” I snapped weakly. “You don’t need to pretend. We both know I’m fucked, off to a desk job.”

  “I told you before. I will stay true to myself. Instead of attempting to break your shock, perhaps cold hard reality is what you need. Is it?”

  “Whatever man, not like there’s anything else to do. Shoot.”

  “I cannot cim to understand you, but this is what I see. A man steeped in self-pity, because his crutch is gone. What you lost, it was destined to either break you or kill you. And like this melodrama, it did not suit you. Not who you truly are. How you fought, it was exempry, yes. A whirlwind of efficient brutality, does this sound like Gabriel? To me it does not.

  So you must experience the same powerless and dejection as all others did. So you must learn to fight by your own strength, like all others did. So you must face your fears, does this warrant pity? I think not.

  Grow a pair Gabriel, and maybe you will be stronger for it. Everything you did, it lies within. Nothing is fundamentally gone, and perhaps a new power will be your own. I will fake my sympathies only if you make a true effort to overcome this, because then you will have earned them. But I suspect it will not be necessary and I look forward to fighting alongside you again. If you can overcome yourself.”

  “Wow, fuck you too. But you’re right. Thanks, I guess.”

  “Good, now rest, we will cross soon.”

  His words reflected what I already knew. It was no different from feeling entitled. Once, battle came easily. Now I had to work for it. It wasn’t fair, but life never was. An old lesson all too easily forgotten when things went well. But it was never about knowing the path forward, of being unaware of what y beyond a dark horizon. One foot in front of the other sounded alright in theory, until you noticed the ndmines. Suddenly, a simple walk turned into a struggle where every step heralded doom. Getting back up after falling disregarded bones broken along the way. Worst of all, time waited for no one. Fuck this. Only spite held me together.

  We offloaded most of our stuff at the Farm. The severed dragon head remained as our burden however. Mel wanted it on a giant pike and her will reigned. A part of the current rebuilding shift headed the other way. The other bits and pieces had been gathered up and left behind, too cumbersome to bring along. Noah, Cleo and Kim joined some members of the pick-up crew as an escort, just in case.

  On the way home, we passed a small group. Mel restarted the rotation now that the core of her campaign had been brought to a successful conclusion. She intended to enrich our resource supply, especially metal. Admittedly, we cked the manpower to properly exploit our uncontested massive stretch of territory. Yet it was all part of the pn. Mel thought of everything, as she damn well should. It was her job after all. Prerequisites had been filled, the momentum built up, but the crescendo had yet to peak.

  Aside from those met during the Ascension Games, who’d been encouraged to join up with us if able, we’d also start recruiting from Freeport soon. The whole idea was to employ a good mix of indoctrination, pampering, training and everything else to create a steady stream of loyal members for the Company. We’d pair this with goodwill gained from feeding the entire city. Of course, first we had to overthrow the current regime but all things considered, well they were fucked. Unlike the System, Mel did have a fir for the theatrical and maybe seeing her pn py out was just what the doctor ordered.

  Perhaps she felt some guilt over sending us to war, since she intended to also organize the thousands of residents into an efficient self-sustaining machine. We’d even hand over the reins of government at some point, although the pnned gesture was mostly symbolic. It couldn’t be otherwise, as we loomed over them, dozens of battle proven Ascendant. Free they might soon be, but never from us. It was a monstrous burden and ambitious as all hell. There weren’t many of us after all, efficient though we were. Efficient, and ruthless. Elias must be feeling right at home.

  Approaching HQ revealed the extent of preparations. Huge extraneous sheds leaked grain, extraordinary stockpiles overflowing. Our architecture experienced an upgrade too. No longer a square bunker, now we had style. It was nouveau-medieval. A star fortress of green veined ivory, modernized with raised ptforms upon which tripods rested, although no guns – yet. A command tower oversaw it all, heavily reinforced, capped by an even bigger potential artillery ptform. Trespassers will be obliterated. Of course, a massive pike extended from the front gate. Case in point.

  Jen rushed out soon enough and Jill sped ahead to intercept her. Their exchange didn’t st long. Hey, your boyfriend is being a little bitch, so maybe talk to him or something. Oh and he nearly killed himself again, as usual. Anyway, nice stable weather, won’t be raining ash anytime soon. Toodles. She neared and jumped into a hug before I could say anything appropriately dejected. Apparently someone figured out magical perfume, her scent invigorated me. Or maybe it was the sense of normalcy. Probably a bit of both. Either way, it pierced even my deadened sense of smell - floral, sweet, and gentle.

  “Good job,” she whispered.

  Huh? “What did she tell you, exactly?”

  “That you saved them, and avenged the rest.”

  “And…?”

  “I don’t care about the rest, just gd you’re back, y’know?”

  “Might have to drop the tough guy act for a while.”

  “I’ll live with it, better than being without you. A lot better. Can’t wait for the bar stories though.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t remember what actually happened. Went a bit overboard, or so I’ve been told.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you went exactly far enough. Redhead is dead, you’re alive. That’s a win.”

  “Kwame’s gone.”

  “We’ll remember him, live twice as rge. C’mon, I want you to see something.”

  She dragged me along, never letting go of my hand. Quite a bit of open space remained inside our stronghold. The usual square block still functioned as a centerpiece, stepped and adorned with marble-like columns, looking very Roman. It was impressive, sure, but not what she had in mind. Rounding the building revealed the real eye-catcher.

  Work had started on painting the roof above. In a simir departure from the original design, the inner space was entirely enclosed. Evidently we had only scratched the surface of System-shit. Simple strokes of a brush left behind a stunning starry night, a twinkling sky merely a stone’s throw away. It probably did something, but I couldn’t figure it out before Jen swept my feet and dropped me on the ground, facing up. She snuggled in next to me.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

  “Now we can always stargaze, and the best part? No Godstrikes, not here.”

  “What does the paint do? It’s obviously some arcane shit.”

  “We haven’t got the slightest clue, but it’s pretty, so who cares? It’s the blue dust you brought back from the games. A few grains make a bucket of paint. We should have just enough to cover the roof.”

  “Weird, but worth it.”

  “I know, right?”

  We dozed off, or at least I did. She stayed anyway, nestled by my arm, one hand on my chest. Afterwards, the dreaded moment arrived. Mel called me into her office. Everything had changed so much. Grooves lined the previously uniform floor, creating a false mosaic tiling effect – clearly intended to not remind anyone of trap corridors. Arches complemented the reliefs of columns on the interior walls, decidedly luxurious yet formal. I liked it.

  Mel sprouted a sense of humor during our absence, sporting an open office. Walk right in, I dare you. While passing the threshold, I suspected a wall could be dropped in pce, sealing it off. Her office furniture extended from the very building itself. Supernatural masonry allowed for casual reshaping without downsides, so it made sense. At least she afforded her guests leather-lined chairs these days. Even so, this felt oddly nostalgic, like when she first interviewed me.

  “Welcome back,” she said, “have a seat.”

  “Really? This again?”

  “I couldn’t resist.” She rose and grabbed two cups, using her fire magic to heat us both some steaming coffee. “You look like you can use a little pick-me-up.”

  “Word travels fast.”

  “You know me, nothing escapes my notice. The war for privacy was lost before anyone even knew it happened. It’s mostly Jen waging it though.” She handed one to me, it was bitter. No sugar or milk, I used to take mine with plenty of both.

  “Missed your shot, should’ve joined the NSA.”

  “As if, corporate paid more.”

  “Not sure that’s true, but whatever helps you sleep. I know you’re busy. We can get straight to the point. What do we need? I can join the crafters or something, switch some links around. I still want to be useful at least.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What?”

  “I can handle the end of the world. I can handle rebuilding for a second time. I refuse to deal with you malingering around HQ indefinitely. What do we need? You want to be useful? We need elite fighters, a weapon mage in particur.”

  “Look, it’s very nice of you and all, but let’s be real here.”

  “Do I look like I’m fucking joking, Gabriel?”

  I had to admit, she didn’t. She continued, “Once recruitment starts we’re going to direct the fresh blood what to pick, rigging up a telepathy network is on the list for comms purposes. That means we’re going to enact some protocol going forth. Call-signs and such. For now, you’re Syer-Zero.”

  “Really? Way to rub it in.”

  “It’s affectionate, as you like to tell Ryan. It might take time, but I don’t see you sitting still for long. It’s also representative. Your spot in the squad is guaranteed and I want you back in action as soon as humanly possible, but only when you’re ready. Hence, zero. You’re part of the squad, even if you’re not really right now.”

  Alright, fine. My people were pretty great. I couldn’t stay sad with them around me.

  “Fuck it, why not. It’s not like things are hopeless or anything anyway. Sure, I’ll get back in shape.”

  “Excellent, but not quite yet. I have an assignment, I think you’ll like it…”

  I left her office with a smile. This was going to be good, and included some proper spectacle. In a way, it celebrated year one post Godstrike and how far we had come. She even chugged a little rebranding into the mix. Although we never really had a public presence in the first pce, ah who cares.

  Afterwards, it would be a short vacation and then onwards to training. She promised to find me the best of the best, of what was avaible anyway. Moreover, she shelled out my share of the pay-outs. The company paid for any mission reted expenses, but the crystal cash wasn’t ours to keep. Used to having so much more, it felt a bit light. Regardless, ten thousand crystal was ten thousand crystal, and all for personal use.

  Which meant Jen would probably spend half, but eh, she was worth it. We all were. First, however, it was time to perform a coup d’état. The terminology was appropriate - we were a paramilitary force now after all. Before leaving, Mel had handed me the new emblem, the same stylized heart guard of dragon wings, just with words on it.

  The top had our new name. Dragon Company.

  Below it was our motto. In the pursuit of power. Firepower.

  But I couldn’t move on to whatever the future held quite yet. The past needed addressing first. Our mausoleum for the fallen remained the simple square building with a cross it had always been. The contents of the old one had been transferred here too and merged to free up space. Despite feeling better, I neglected to enter and dropped my newest addition into the box up front. Someone with better handwriting would eventually chisel it unto one of the many named pques inside.

  Kwame – Battle Brother, Master Magician, With Us Through the Breach, Reflection Wrecker, Dragon Defier, Syer. Ascendant.