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((Triple Monday -- Page 2 of 3))
Parson knew the man was only teasing, but a rather strong part of him agreed with that sentiment, at least with regard to himself. The battle at Luminal City had been the most terrifying event of his young life. There were several moments where he’d felt somehow even more powerless than he had during that fateful night in Trintol four years ago.

And yet, here he was. Still alive. Thanks entirely to Monty here. Now people were starting to call him things like the Lawman and the Judge, because Monty had brought order to Luminal City in a single night. Five separate gangs of superpowered outlaws, all of which had been quietly ruling the region for decades--each one had been routed or crushed.

It made Parson proud to have him as a mentor.

‘By the way,’ said Tenebrach as Sermung pinned the round, blue medal on Parson’s little coat, ‘have you figured out how you are going to save the world, yet?’

‘Hah,’ said Overra. ‘If I did, I would not tell you. I know you would only laugh at me.’

‘Oh, come now. We are all friends here. If you truly have a plan, I would love to hear it.’

‘Then perhaps you will hear of it. One day.’

Tenebrach did not look impressed. ‘You don’t have a plan at all, do you?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t. At least, not one that I could explain to a simpleton like yourself.’

‘Hoho! She bites! I don’t recall you being so vicious. The Overra that I remember was a sweet-hearted idealist to her very core. I hope you haven’t let this miserable world turn you into a misanthrope after all these years.’

‘Never. I will always believe in the innate goodness of humanity. How that goodness might be best realized and harnessed, however--well, let’s just say, on those points, I’m still making up my mind.’

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...165 years ago...


Germal rubbed his head and tried not to think about the pain. It was all over his body, as usual, but today’s headache was especially bad. The small nub in the center of his forehead throbbed in a way that was horrifically familiar.

After six years as a servant, this feeling was what he dreaded most. The feeling that told him another change was imminent. Try as he might, there was no suppressing it. The most that he’d managed to do so far was to internalize it, to direct the change inward.

To wreak utter havoc on his body.

Such was the source of his chronic pain. Stomach, liver, kidneys, pancreas, diaphragm, rib cage, hip bones, abdominal muscles, large intestines, small intestines--what would be next? There was no telling. Maybe it would just be another one of those. Instead of adding to the pain, maybe it would just multiply.

Nerovoy had been little help, despite the early optimism that the reaper had expressed.

Most days, Germal wished he hadn’t been revived. He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to go on like this.