The d?mons howled. William looked up at the black sky, unable to express his frustration. A transmigrator! Here in Severity! Of course, the Creational Force would try to intercept.

  The sky was finally quiet, a sharp contrast to the thunderous quakes it had loosed a few minutes ago. Despite his anger, William couldn’t help but laugh. In this dead realm, it almost sounded like a cackle. The four beams of light receded back into the ground, back to wherever the transmigrator had come from.

  He walked to one of the dangling chains, setting his hands softly against one of its links.

  “After all these years, you’re still trying.”

  There was no answer.

  “That’s good. That shows me there is still life after an Ascension. We’ll do it differently this time. I promise.”

  The realm shimmered around him, bleeding away to reveal a landscape of white rock and the grassy hill he stood upon. He felt the d?mons fade away from his consciousness. With one final blink, he was back in his actual body.

  From a hill, William watched the Western Sheer as it rose before him like a flight of stairs leading up into the sky. The men of this country were launching their attack, pitiful to him, but rather devastating to his numbers. If any country was going to resist the expansion, of course, it would be Ardition.

  Being back in the comforting heat of combat, what had just happened in Severity’s realm became a distant problem. A shadow cast by the fire of his mission here. A shadow that couldn’t very well be ignored, but still a shadow.

  Aerial bombardments continued to rain down. Even after seven years, the bullets were as strong as ever, the warheads as catastrophic as ever. He watched as his men ran across the land, all of them forced to hide behind their metal tower shields. Somehow, the shields held, protecting them from the worst of the barrage.

  “Ah, well,” William whispered. “Looks like there’s no other choice. Time to get my hands dirty.”

  He took a deep breath, Severity raging in his veins, his blood embracing the intensity and rage that came with that Force. On a single exhalation, he was running. The wind whipped at his face, its touch both cold and grainy.

  Without any hesitation, he leaped from the hill, his speed making him fall faster than normal. He landed with a thud in the middle of his men, the guns still firing from above, a constant rain of noise that was much more intense down here than it had been from atop the hill.

  The men around him glanced with shock and fear at his arrival. Even under such a heavy assault, not one of them had a look that spoke of defeat or hopelessness. On the contrary, they looked excited, expectant.

  “Mount the lifts the moment I get you the opening,” he said before he continued running.

  There wasn’t any confusion. No one asked what he meant, how he was going to do it, or how they would know it was time to move out. They simply took his orders.

  The assault from the strip above forced his men to push up against the hills. None of them had the speed needed to successfully run across the ground, all while dodging the projectiles. But he did.

  The base they were currently on went on for leagues before the land dropped off at a sheer lever down to the ocean below. At the end of this base, the second level rose high in the sky. The Arditionians no doubt believed no one could possibly get to that level without the lifts. But that was good. That’s what they needed to think. It made the shock that much sweeter.

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

  Already, the soldiers above were turning their attention onto him, all of them hoping to be the ones who successfully shot him down in his tracks. They would know him by his suit. His men started following, though at a much slower pace.

  He finally reached the edge of the upper base and, without pausing, squatted low to the ground, gathering power in his legs, before he jumped with the mastered power of the First String. The gunfire stopped, their wielders transfixed by his feats.

  Over one hundred meters cleared in a single leap.

  Before they understood what this meant, he was already landing. Some of them died from the impact alone. The shattered stone struck them, caving in their heads or crushing their chests. Under him, a soldier twitched, choking on blood his crushed lungs were spitting out.

  A gunshot broke the stunned silence before he felt the pain of a bullet tearing through his stomach. He looked up and found the one soldier who’d been brave enough to attempt something like that. His hands were shaking, but the gun was still raised, a soft heat haze shimmering around the nozzle.

  “Good,” William said. “That’s good. If you survive my men, I’ll welcome you into my ranks.”

  He moved, using his fists like hammers as he crushed them one by one. Of course, the wound in his stomach closed as he went along. Such was the power of Severity. Such was the mastered power of the First String.

  When more than half of the Arditionians’ assault force was decimated, the rest pulled back. A strategic retreat that didn’t really matter. One way or the other, Ardition would fall today and gain them a strong foothold in the expansion.

  He looked back down at the base level far below. The lifts were being set up, rising into the air. They’d be here soon enough. Should I go after them, or leave them something to do? Decisions, decisions. Maybe if I—

  No. There were important tasks to handle. The soldiers could handle the rest. He turned back to the hill he’d come from. Oh, Stepping would’ve been much easier. But that wasn’t really an option, was it? He took a deep breath and jumped from the edge.

  The ground shattered under his impact, though this time no one was injured. He ran all the way back, over the grassy hills, and down to where his camp stood close to the raging ocean. The air here smelled of sulfur and salt, the breeze blowing in spray from the crashing waves.

  They’d long since seized this section of the base level, the surrounding town subjugated and put to important work. Even now, he could hear them tolling away, hear the screams and sprays of blood as they handled the gathered d?mons.

  As he walked to his base of operations, his soldiers and the workers who were moving about the street paused to salute, every one of them executing it with lethal precision, every one of them wearing green.

  Beyond a casual glance, he paid them no attention, his mind once more tackling the transmigrator he’d seen in Severity’s realm. It took a lot of effort to calm the rage tinting his vision red.

  The next time he enters that realm, I’ll kill him on the spot. He won’t get away again. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He couldn’t afford to go berserk, not now.

  He entered the limestone building, the floors carpeted with red. He could easily speed his way to the fifth floor, but the soldiers needed to be kept on their toes. Not knowing when he was going to use his powers played a key role in making sure that was the case.

  When he arrived at the council room on the fifth floor, he found his Leviath sitting at the table. As always, the man was going through stacks of papers, reports pouring in from their agents across this territory.

  “Sir,” the man greeted, standing and bowing his head. “I trust the assault went well.”

  “I’ve cleared the edge of the second base,” William said. “The soldiers will be doing the rest.”

  William turned away from the man, walking to his chair at the table. Ever since he’d transmuted into the Second String, William had struggled to look at the man for too long. There was a wrongness to him, one of the few people who’d tapped into the ancient Forces before they’d descended to Earth seven years ago.

  “The reports suggest our agents are still having issues infiltrating—”

  “Never mind that,” William said, lazily waving the man’s concerns away. “I have something more important for you to do.”

  “Of course, sir,” the man said, bowing his head once more.

  “Severity has another Claimant.” The man looked up at those words, his eyes widening just a fraction. “It’s time. My family has been left alone long enough. Go to Oceania—I believe they call themselves Camp Twelve now—and bring them back into the fold. By whatever means necessary.”

  The man stilled his surprise, straightening his back and lowering his head once more.

  “By whatever means necessary, my lord Emery.”