By the time the speedy mistship arrived back at Ironsalt, two of Det’s roommates had achieved kernelization. Annoyingly, Calisco had been one of them. The second one. It was Sage, in fact, who’d been able to create his own kernels within thirty minutes of getting one of Det’s donated to him. Calisco’s breakthrough came at almost the two-hour mark—just before the group went out to train with Beauty—while the other three made some progress. Just not enough to create their own kernels.

  Luckily, none of them had suffered reversals from the shortcut.

  As for the ‘discomfort’ of having a foreign energy invading? Det didn’t get to experience it himself, of course, but by the way the others rolled around on the ground like spiked worms were burrowing into the hands, then up their arms—and beyond—it got rated pretty high on the ‘things he didn’t want done to him’.

  It also hadn’t been as simple as touching the others and pushing his kernel in. The best way to describe it was he needed their consent. They had to consciously let his energy enter their bodies. That became much harder after the first person dropped to the ground in agony. It’d gotten worked out, but Det was sure a few of the bumps he’d gotten in the training after were far too intentional. Revenge was a dish best served quickly, and with extreme prejudice, apparently.

  At least it had given him a chance to see how the others handled themselves with a weapon. Tena was, by leagues, far better than the rest of them. Her crystal-creation ability allowed her to do more than just spears and armor—with any melee weapon being possible—and she’d trained with most of them. She might even be better than Det with a sword.

  Between her, Det, and Beauty, they’d put the rest of the group through their paces.

  Sage carried that pair of daggers with him wherever he went, but really wasn’t very good with them. They were a hand-me-done from his uncle—and Wordless gear at that—he’d gotten when he was young. Just, he’d never bothered training with them. It didn’t really make sense to Det, but, family stuff was complicated. When it came to Sage’s weapon of choice, he preferred a longsword. The guy was just as right-dominant as Det was, with his left hand being near useless.

  Calisco got a new ‘stick’—her words for the quarterstaff—and was just as bad with it as ever. She insisted her magic would take care of everything. Beauty, on the other hand, had insisted she at least learn how to bonk—again, Calisco’s words—anything that got close enough she couldn’t explode it. It was a work in progress. Thankfully, Tena was taking her under her wing.

  Then there was Eriba. She could barely look somebody in the eye, let alone smack it with something. For her, Beauty picked a mace. One without spikes, since she had a tendency to clasp it in a death-hug grip when somebody came at her swinging. She’d probably need the most work of the group, but at least Tena wasn’t as vocal about Eriba as she had been about Det. Beauty spent most of the afternoon working with the Arsenal.

  Finally, Weiss. He eventually ended up with a short spear as his weapon of choice. Something that wouldn’t really get in his way, but also gave him some reach to attack from a safer distance. Like everything else he did, his movements were calculated and refined. In practice, he was excellent. He took instruction well, had no issues with repeating the same lunge over and over until he became intimately familiar with it, and was humble and attentive when advice came his way.

  By all measures, he should’ve been the one Det worried about the least. Except, it was the opposite by the time the mistship stopped above Ironsalt, and they were all ushered down to the lift. Weiss’ fingers were just a little too tight around his spear, as the lift lowered to the surface. His eyes didn’t blink, and he kept licking his lips. Was he…?

  “Look at that,” Sage’s voice pulled Det’s thoughts out of his own head—and his eyes from studying Weiss—to where the other man stood at the edge of the lift. “The town looks like a warzone.”

  “Not my fault,” Calisco said. “I hardly exploded anything in the town.”

  Det had to resist rolling his eyes as he joined the rest of them over at the fence-like wall of the lift. Below them, Ironsalt lay spread out. And, from above, Sage was right. The town had seen better days.

  Not far from where the lift would settle down stood the remnants of the tavern that’d housed the emergence. Or, at least he assumed it was. A kind of metal dome had been built over it, with three rings of walls surrounding it, one after another. Vicious looking razor-wire—or something very similar—topped each of those walls.

  Considering how sharp the ants mandibles had been—along with their ability to climb walls—Det wasn’t entirely sure how well the walls would work. Not his problem, though. He’d leave it to the experts.

  Aside from the new construction around the emergence, there were other changes. Most of the town for a few hundred feet in every direction had been absolutely flattened. Just completely bulldozed, assuming Elestar had something akin to bulldozers. Then again, from that woman over there—ReSouled for sure, by the way she lifted a hand and a wave of stone rose to then compress everything in front of it—the Mistguard didn’t need heavy machinery. Not when magic would do just as well.

  There only looked to be one wall still standing, over near the widened road that would lead to the mine. Right around where I came in. As for why they would leave a single wall standing over there, Det didn’t have an answer to it, but, again, not his problem.

  Some buildings still stood on the side of town opposite from where the dome stood, and kitty-corner to the single wall. That section buzzed with activity, between the still-standing homes and the new command structure that had been put up. All in all, Det counted at least fifty people hard at work. That wasn’t even counting people who were inside.

  “Lot of people,” Eriba said quietly, spotting the same thing he had.

  “Containing a dungeon isn’t a small job,” Beauty said. “The team here has done very well if they’ve already got a containment structure in place.”

  “Will it stop a dungeon burst?” Sage asked.

  “Only slow it down,” Beauty said. “It’s made of B-Rank materials, but even E-Rank Wordless will get through it eventually. As I said before, dungeons rise to the challenge. Having a B-Rank wall means something of B-Rank power will be born within the dungeon and emerge.”

  “Isn’t that riskier than just letting the E-Ranks out?” Tena said.

  “Yes and no,” Beauty said. “The dome—and the walls around it—will delay whatever comes out. Long enough, hopefully, for us to get reinforcements here to help fully contain the burst, and get somebody in to defeat the Boss. It buys us time. We also come expecting to deal with a B-Rank threat, so it’s not a surprise.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “If we left the dome as E-Rank, the Wordless would get out far before we had a chance to get support here. Through trial and error, B-Rank was settled on as being the best durability of material for risk versus reward.”

  “Why not just use A or S-Rank material?” Calisco said.

  “Besides their rarity and difficulty to get?” Beauty said. “We have less Mistguard capable of dealing with A or S-Rank threats than we do for B-Rank threats. If something from A-Rank or above escaped, it would be a walking calamity. Worse than Det’s kitten from class yesterday.”

  “I don’t know,” Sage said. “That was practically a kitten of mass destruction. Wars would be fought over that thing.”

  “Which is one of the reasons Beast was left to teach the class in our absence,” Beauty said, and the three Arsenal all winced at what their classmates would have gone through that day. “Ah, it looks like our reception is here.”

  Following Beauty’s eyes, Det found a Mistguard ReSouled—from the red lines on his uniform, and the short tails to his coat—walking purposely toward the lift as it set down. Like all ReSouled, the man looked to be in his mid-twenties, with an angular jaw and darker skin. His eyes glowed with an unnatural golden light, but they didn’t move at all, always staring straight forward.

  “A corporal already, Gazer?” Beauty said, reaching out to meet the extended hand of the ReSouled who’d approached him. Even this close, the other man’s eyes didn’t move even a fraction of an inch. To call it eerie would be an understatement.

  “Beauty, good to see you again,” Gazer said, shaking the instructor’s hand, and smiling the whole time. “When I heard it was you bringing the group, I got myself assigned to meeting up with you. And, yes, recently promoted.”

  “You checked to make sure it wasn’t Beast, eh?” Calisco said.

  Gazer had no shame in laughing and nodding, those his eyes still didn’t move as his whole head turned in Calisco’s direction.

  Is he even blinking?

  “If I’d seen her name,” Gazer said. “I would’ve made sure I had any other assignment.”

  “She would be hurt to hear you say that,” Beauty said.

  “Sir, we both know that’s not true,” Gazer said. “She’d just ask me to find her the closest lunch place.”

  “The relative emptiness of her stomach often trumps other concerns, this is true,” Beauty said. “I have to ask, though, why are you on Ironsalt? You are C-Rank now, are you not?”

  “I am,” Gazer said. “Part of the reason I got promoted to corporal. As to why I’m here, they’ve pulled in Arsenals and Vanguards with perception-type powers from all over. They don’t want anybody getting close to the pillar before we’ve got everything locked down, and done a thorough once-over outside the boundaries of the town. Since this was already a double-emergence event, they’re being extra careful.”

  “I see,” Beauty said. “Have you found anything else? Or, has there been trouble?”

  “We’ve had to re-route a few trade ships with normal lanes bringing them to and from Ironsalt, but the usual excuses have been holding up just fine. They’ve…” Gazer paused, his golden eyes burning with a deeper color for a moment. “Hold on, we’ve got another ship twelve miles out and coming in fast.”

  With the words, Gazer stepped back from Beauty, and pulled a device from his belt. As it wasn’t white and ceramic, it wasn’t Wordless gear, though Gazer put it up to his mouth as he spoke.

  A walkie-talkie or radio, then.

  “Mistship coming in hot from two-twenty,” Gazer said. “Name on the bow says it’s the Intrepid Trepidition. No weapons visible, with the make of the ship suggesting it’s a priority delivery courier. Estimated time of arrival, ten to fifteen minutes.”

  “High-speed incoming from two-twenty, roger,” a voice crackled out in reply.

  “Sorry about that,” Gazer said, definitely not blinking.

  “Twelve miles now?” Beauty said. “You’ve continued to increase your range.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gazer said, standing a bit straighter. “I’ve continued with the lessons you and Beast started us with, and my range has continued to increase. There’s hope I might reach B-Rank by the next cycle.”

  “Well done, Gazer,” Beauty said, hands clasping behind his back as he praised his former student.

  But, B-Rank by next cycle? Since he’s not in our class, that means he’s been here at least twenty years. Is getting to C-Rank in that amount of time… good? I can’t wait that long. I need to be S-Rank yesterday…

  “And, are these the new students I’m told you’ve got this cycle?” Gazer continued, head swiveling as he took in the group. “I was surprised when I heard there were six of them this year.”

  “Three Arsenals, too,” Beauty said. “Our biggest group of Arsenals ever.”

  “Wow,” Gazer said. “You guys are lucky to have Beast as your instructor. Beast… she’s just part of the package, I guess. At least it’s not Incom…” he trailed off. “Er, are any of you Artillery?”

  “Yeah, got a problem with that?” Calisco said, arms trying to cross until she realized she was still carrying the quarterstaff. A few awkward motions, one bumped forehead, and some quiet cursing, and she finally managed to achieve the pose she’d been trying for from the beginning. Considering everything from start to finish, it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as it should’ve been. She made up for it with her scowl.

  “Nothing against Artillery at all,” Gazer quickly said. “My fiancé is Artillery. She just had horror stories about Incoming Trauma. Has she brought her pets to class yet?”

  “Pets?” Calisco said. “No. What does she have? Cats or dogs?”

  “Neither,” Gazer said. “Spiders. Huge. Friggin. Spiders.”

  “How big is huge?” Calisco asked.

  “Depends on the day. From thumb-sized to dog-sized. That last one, she usually keeps it on a leash.”

  “… usually?” Calisco said, some of her usual bravado missing.

  “Usually,” Gazer confirmed, before the radio in his hand buzzed to life again.

  “This is Early-Riser,” the voice said. “Delivery ship, Intrepid Trepidtion intercepted. All crew and supporting vessels accounted for. Redirecting now.”

  “Understood,” the voice that’d originally responded to Gazer said. “Continue patrol. Corporal Gazer, please keep an eye on the ship until it’s once again out of range.”

  “Roger,” Gazer said, though nothing about him changed.

  “Should we leave you to that?” Sage offered.

  “Of course not,” Gazer said. “I can watch the ship and guide you to our first stop.”

  “First stop?” Beauty said. “You’re not talking to us our bunks?”

  “That’ll be the second stop,” Gazer said. “First off, I’m hoping for some help from one of your new students. If the reports are to be believed, you have the two cadets who were previously on Ironsalt during the initial emergence with you here now.”

  “That is correct,” Beauty said. “Cadets Calisco and Det. Please step forward.”

  The two of them did as asked, then shared a scowl with each other at the lockstep of their motion.

  “One of you is a painter?” Gazer said, his head turning slightly in Det’s direction.

  “That’d be me,” Det said.

  “Excellent,” Gazer said. “Then maybe you can help us solve a bit of a mystery.”

  “I’m not sure how,” Det said. “But, happy to help, if I can. What do you need?”

  “Easier to show you,” Gazer said. “This way, please.” A gesture in the direction toward the road leading to the mine, and Gazer was off, the rest of the group following behind.

  “Any idea what this is about?” Sage asked Det quietly.

  “None,” Det said. “Everything I know was in the report they made me write. Mainly so Captain Simmons wouldn’t have to do it.”

  “Sounds like him,” Sage said with a nod.

  “The report you did was excellent,” Gazer said from the front of the group. “I am one of many people who’ve reviewed it, and the details within were well-presented and relevant. Thank you for not adding flowery language to fluff the wordcount.”

  “Not a big fan of filler,” Det said. “But, if the report is so good, why do you have a mystery?”

  “The mystery may stem from an omission of what you consider obvious knowledge or information,” Gazer continued, the group almost halfway to where the road exited the town, with the lone, still-standing wall off to their right. “In the report, you talk about your magic—briefly—and each of the paintings you did, and how you used them in the battle with the Wordless.”

  “Yes,” Det confirmed. “If it’s about how my magic works, there was a short appendix that explains what I know of it.”

  “Yes, I read that,” Gazer said. “Also well done. As part of the appendix, you explained that your magic consumes the paintings to bring your—I believe you call them—renditions to life. This process leaves no evidence of the painting behind. No paper. No ink. Correct?”

  “That’s all correct,” Det said.

  “Then, what I need from you,” Gazer said, turning off the main path and heading directly for the still-standing wall. “Is to explain this to me.”

  “Explain… what?” Det said, until he rounded the wall, and saw exactly what covered it. Or, should he say, exactly what was painted on it.

  A mural of nine wolves with red eyes.

  “The Pack,” Det said, voice low in disbelief. His painting had… returned?