No time to run. The membrane that was this portal world exploded, spilling its contents where there was no room to spill them. Space bent in mind-defying geometries. Her mind reeled from the experience, but then she recovered almost immediately. This was just space. She knew space. Well, not her mind, but her body, her instincts did. Synesthesia merged space and sight to present rivers of glass melding and splitting in a tightly packed whole. She was… not existing at the moment. Both her mask and true self folded together in the same personal space. It was weird. And fascinating. She didn’t have the time to enjoy it though. There was the rather important matter of preventing a trans-dimension apex predator from slaying earth’s most powerful raider and dooming the city. Her city. “Riel dammit, Sereth.” He wouldn’t have endangered her. That meant that she was safe, or more likely, capable of saving herself. Through the depth of the worlds, she recognized each glass vein as a layer of existence. Small bubbles represented portals, stuck to their home dimensions like soap bubbles to the skin. The largest and most imposing of them all showed skyscrapers and a sky of red. it also… tasted… familiar. Others were more distant. She almost opened her cocoon now so she could exist in space again, but felt flung into the real world. Images blurred in front of her. She saw a jungle. She couldn’t allow herself to reappear out there in the fucking boonies. Her mind focused, sharpening her instincts. She redirected her cocoon towards the shiniest beacon, the most mana-rich place of her native plane. There, again, the skyscrapers. She forced the bubble to close in with the glass vein. She merged both membranes. It was so easy. They wanted to merge. Nestra stepped in front of Riel’s Beacon: Threshold’s official town hall. Air filled her lungs. Noise saturated her ears. She could see again, smell the asphalt and taste the ambient mana. She could feel their air on her skin. Damn. Would she have to pick sides? Well, it didn’t matter for now. The both of them were clearly far out of her league, and would remain so for the next decade or so. At the very least. While Shinran picked himself back up, quite literally, Nestra decided to get some confirmation. “So, I’m honored that you would talk to me and so on. Do you really not know who I am? My civilian identity, that is.” “From your tone and accent, I can tell that you are a Threshold citizen. Mazingwe hinted that you had grown as a human.” He finally stood. The layer of congealed blood peeled off like a glove, leaving behind a fresh and expanding suit of armor. Nestra had seen healing before, and this wasn’t it. At least not with life mana. “What sort of magic is this?” she muttered, curious. She wondered if she could absorb it. “It is unique,” Shinran said. “Not so unique,” Sereth replied, softly landing on the broken island. His armor had resorbed until it was more full plate and less screwed-on battle walker armor. He still looked a bit grumpy. Nestra felt a pang of anxiety. “Sereth? Are you alright?” she hissed in Aszhii. His ears drooped down miserably. “Do not mind me, little Nezhra. I am merely upset because it has been a long while since I had a worthy hunt. All I do here is hold back. And I have no one to blame but myself for this decision.” “And he provoked you by ignoring your warnings.” “I am usually happy when people ignore my warning. It means I can…. let go.” He turned away from her in the most obvious sign he was hiding something she’d ever seen outside of a school ground. “Something else is bothering you.” “And also, perhaps, Siobhan and I are having an unresolved argument.” “You beat Threshold’s best raider to an inch of his life because you’re having a lover’s quarrel?” “It is more serious than that! She wants us to move in together. And I want that too! But I don’t want to live in a human house!” Nestra was speechless. “Why don’t you find two houses side by side, a human one and then one you can use as your den?” “Have you any idea of the cost? The Sunflour is doing well but not that well. The real estate market…” “Sereth,” she said with disbelief. “You’re a fucking Aszhii.” “Contrary to you, I am staying undercover. That means avoiding the black market and anything else that might harm Siobhan Stibbons in the long run.” “Damn, if only you had one of the planet’s richest men right here and owing you an apology.” “It wouldn’t break my cover to get a donation, right? Unless he uses it to harm Siobhan.” “You just opened him and crumpled him like a can of peas. I think he will be reasonable.” Sereth turned to Shinran who was now meditating in orange robes again. It was as if the armored demon form had never existed. “You, human. I require… compensation. I need to buy a house.” “District Fourteen. It needs to be flat and at least three hundred square meters. And if you use my human identity to harm the people close to me, I will eat you.” “Should I accept, will we be even?” Sereth shook with excitement. “Alright. Good. Excellent. You two have a good talk. I need to make a call. Don’t wait on me.” “I believe I have conducted the first successful high level human-alien negotiation! A round of applause,” Nestra exulted. Shinran smiled, though it was not a warm one. “Congratulations are still due. Now, can I tell you why I wanted to contact you to begin with?” “Uh, sure. Sorry. It’s just… you’re Shinran and you are there. I cannot believe we’re having a conversation. I mean, I can, but it’s still strange.” He was famous! The raider didn’t mind her babbling. With his shaven head and kind expression, he was back to the peaceful and popular person she’d grown used to seeing on vids. She’d met him before, once, but seeing him again now made her feel all fuzzy, even though he’d gotten his ass handed to him. It was Shinran! “I am fairly approachable, just usually quite busy.” “It would be better to show you. My kind of mana is unique on earth, though it appears your Sereth has seen it before elsewhere. if I were to describe it, I would call it… divine mana.” “I know it sounds pretentious. Seeker mana would work as well. It allows me to find what I need — within limits — and acquire conceptual powers that go beyond what wielders of normal mana have access to.” “Like that fire rain?” “Yes. I would not be able to cast firebolts, for example, but this specific spell is something I can cast without understanding it. I discovered how it could be used long after the Incursion, sadly, or I would have helped more.” “Perhaps saved Riel. I was not within his inner circle at the time but we did fight side by side. He was something.” “What was he like?” Nestra asked. “You must have seen the vids and studied the history of the Incursion. When they say he was charismatic, that is an understatement. When he was around, we felt like… like we had a chance. He fought like a hero. The way he bent space to reflect blows, protect people, scatter the enemy. It was like… like watching an orchestra director at work.” “Things were grim then. We were losing a war. A war for subjugation.” “Not extinction? That’s what the books say,” Nestra replied, confused. Shinran waved her observation away. “Either or. A slave cannot truly live, merely survive, and that is a crime almost as bad as murder. Enough reminiscing. My mana gives me access to a very specific, shall we say, service. And I would like you to use it as well.” “It is a tool to perfect one’s craft. It would be better if I showed you.” He stood there smiling as if he’d not offered her the perfect bait for an Aszhii. Well, besides good food. “Why would you ever do that? I’m an alien.” “Three reasons. One, I am a good judge of character.” “That is not immediately obvious…” “That does not mean I do not make mistakes. I do not think it is a mistake to think you will protect humans against monsters, is it?” “No, I would protect people.” Shinran nodded to himself. “That is the second reason. Threshold needs more protectors, and you have much potential.” “What about Ragnarok?” “That is so. The third reason. Ragnarok has also used this… service. Right now, she is in the process of ascending… although she is taking her time, hm? She would prefer to clean house first. In any case, I have extended this offer to several promising warriors.” Nestra suspected there was a lot left unsaid there. She was curious though. “Okay. Can you show me then?” “First, we must return to our plane. May I hold your shoulders?” Nestra was now flying at the speed of a jet. The strange air of this world forced her to blink. She was above a fractured palace, the rotting ribcage of white pillars encircling the abominable form of a tentacled being nestling here like a fat rat sleeping inside of the carcass, except the fat rat was dying. Someone had ripped its tentacles and pulped its flesh. Now it breathed laboriously though a broken beak. White vitreous leaked from the ruins of its many eyes. The next moment, the beast was dead. The moment after, Nestra was in a spacious bunker at the heart of the Tiger guild’s headquarters. The next, she was outside under a mercifully blue sky. Shinran froze, aghast. The damage to faraway buildings was obvious, though thanks to Threshold’s stringent building code, only windows had suffered. A patrol of gunships crossed the sky in front of Riel’s Beacon. “Your fight bled through,” Nestra explained. Shinran stepped away from her. A few C-rank guild guards gasped when they noticed the pair, but Shinran’s familiar figure meant they stayed back. “I… I am terribly sorry, Crescent-san. I must leave now. I must…” “Sure,” Nestra replied, and he was gone. Which left her standing in the middle of the curb in front of a very alert and rather curious group of raiders, having come out of what was their territory without having been seen entering it. She decided to leave at a brisk pace, nodding at the nearest guard. He didn’t return it. Thankfully, bureaucratic inertia was once again on her side. The guards didn’t dare nab one of Shinran’s pals. She was at the corner of the street before they could call their boss. Nestra recovered her masked gleam phone just to see what was going on. “EMERGENCY BROADCAST: Return to yellow alert. Please remain mindful of your surroundings. Avoid traveling unless strictly necessary.” The train and buses were on lockdown for now so she guessed she would be jogging home. Her personal visor showed several messages from Mom, Helena, even one from dad. Stib and Gorge had also called. Damn. She needed to answer or she’d get an earful. Better do it now rather than later. Nestra returned to her den to wait. A terrible shock was coursing through a city that had thought itself invincible for a long time, and although the material damage was minimal for something of this magnitude, the psychological effect was much greater. Riel, they were even making international news! Shinran took the front and center by admitting that the red skies were the consequence of one of his abilities used in a ‘thin’ portal world. Nestra suspected Sereth’s violence had weakened the membrane between that portal world and the home plane. He personally paid damage to everyone who’d been wounded in the event. Nestra thought it was a foolish thing to do. He was setting a precedent where raiders had to pay for the damage incurred by battles. He was Shinran though, so she couldn’t do anything. One of his messages said that he would contact her soon, so Nestra refocused on her next task while she waited: preparing for the Sword King Enclave visit. The next module would focus on history and culture. It was saturated with warnings against being pretentious Threshold elitists. It pissed Nestra off. ‘Oh sure, let me be open minded about people who say baselines have no place in the modern world!’. She got it. It was all for the sake of staying polite and respectful but… some of the things she’d heard… And she was being brought just to piss them off, which meant her very presence as a failed gleam was an insult to them. Nestra didn’t get into the course in a good mood, but soon her interest was rekindled. Enclaves were a gleam to gleam issue, only experienced by baselines like her via the lens of vids and their ‘artistic license’. It was interesting seeing how they really worked in real life. The course explained how the Sword King Enclave had managed to be more successful than many other smaller groups. First, the ruling Nguyen clan boasted some of the deadlier duelists on the continent, a fact they were really proud and loud about. It led to silly decisions such as calling themselves Sword King, as well as a slew of other egregious choices that the course said ‘reflected a tradition of chivalry inspired by the Song dynasty scholar warrior, Japanese Bushido, and the land-based tenacity of Dai Viet’. It was just a pretentious way of saying they were selective blade idiots who only valued martial prowess while being clever enough to scout very well. She just wanted to get there and smack every last of their D-class upstarts just to make their little heads melt. Fortunately, the was more interesting. The Sword Kings had picked a perfect place to set up: a trio of sharp peaks surrounding a deep valley blessed with rich volcanic soil, with the tallest elevation overlooking a river. It provided a safe haven to harvest stuff without a neosaur chomping on your ass every time you bend to pick a tomato. The river meant small boats could trade with other enclaves, and they apparently just installed a heliport as well. The Sword King enclave was a success story, and many promising scions of nearby places tried to join. Nestra was pretty sure they were going to be immensely obnoxious. The list of resources they controlled was impressive, including several rare types of ore they harvested from nearby mountain portals. They made their own weapons which they never hesitated to use. A rival enclave disputing a newly opened portal had been slaughtered seven years prior to set an example. It was gruesome. Exactly what one might expect from enclaves, Nestra thought.