Next page on the 26th

Thanks for reading, everybody.

Page 4083

"And what if they're all too busy?" said Hector.

<"I doubt they will be, but if they are, then you can just give me another call, yes? And we can discuss matters from there. That will give me time to look into more leads for you, as well.">

Hector had to admit, whoever was influencing him was playing it off pretty well. Rationalizing every decision nicely. He genuinely couldn't be sure how strong their influence over him was. If any. Perhaps Hector really was just being paranoid here.

But it was hard not to be, now that he knew more about what Sparrows were capable of. Perhaps he should've asked Hanton to let Pauline come along, after all. Her input might've proven helpful, right about now.

"Alright, where can I find these people? I assume they're not all holed up inside Livingston with you, are they?"

<"No. They should all be somewhere in the Cathedral District, I believe. To your southwest.">

Oh? A slip up? Hector exchanged looks with Roman, who was tilting his head.

There was an opening to call it out now. Hector had not yet provided his current location, so there was no way that the prince should have known which direction to specify.

Hector elected not to, though. There was a chance they were being so subtle for their own security reasons and not just because they were trying to trick him, specifically. There was no need to openly confrontational.

<"...That is, assuming you are already close to Livingston yourself, yes?">

Ah. Nice save.

Hector still elected not to comment, though. "What do these senators look like?"

Another long pause arrived. <"Do you really need me to specify that for you?">

It was Hector's turn to pause. There was definitely some kind of subtext there, but he wasn't sure what it was. Should he ask? They were being purposely vague, so he probably wouldn't get much of an answer, but maybe...

Hmm.

And perhaps he was taking too long to respond, because the prince voice arrived again. <"I'm sure a man of your ability already has everything he needs to find them.">

Ah...

A test, of sorts? To see if what he'd said earlier about having extra information was actually true. And perhaps to see how much of a potential threat he was, too.

Wow. That was a more blatant acknowledgment of the situation than anything else they'd said so far, Hector felt.

Page 4082

<"Someone else?"> said Prince David. <"And who might that be?">

"The Magician of Light, maybe," said Hector. "But there are plenty of other people, too, I'm sure."

The prince made no response.

Which was itself quite telling, Hector thought. The prince was not one to be often lost for words, he knew. So he decided to push a bit more. "If they are listening, I just want them to know that these games aren't necessary. I'm open to have a direct conversation with them--and maybe even helping them with everything going on around here."

<"...That's quite understanding of you, Lord Goffe. I may not grasp the fullness of the circumstances to which you are alluding, but I can at least say that it sounds rather complicated--and even perilous.">

Hector exchanged glances with Voreese, who was hovering right next to him. Her skeletal face didn't reveal much, and yet he still felt like he knew what she must have been thinking. "Well, a prince of my kingdom is here, right now. If helping them out means keeping him safe, too, then I'm just being reasonable, don't you think?"

<"I'm flattered you value my safety so, but how are you certain that these hypothetical eavesdroppers are well-meaning? You are making a very bold assumption, are you not?">

"Or maybe I have more information than you think I do."

There came another long pause.

This time, though, Hector decided to just wait. He noticed Roman flying over, still in his own iron armor that Hector had made for him like everyone else. Perhaps Voreese had privately asked him to return and listen in with them.

<"I have no doubt that you know many things, Lord Goffe.">

"Thanks. But I'm always open to learning more."

Another pause. <"...It seems you are in need of assistance beyond what I can provide, but perhaps I can recommend someone. I've made many new friends during my time here as an ambassador, you know.">

"Thank you," said Hector. "That sounds like it would be very helpful."

<"There are a number of people who come to mind, but I believe one Senator Jacobson would be your best bet, if you can find him. If not, then perhaps Senators Leoric or Morris would be able to help you.">

Hector couldn't help cocking an eyebrow inside his helmet. "Senators, huh? Are you sure they won't be too busy to see me?"

<"No. That is why I named multiple of them.">

Page 4081

Hector's eyes narrowed inside his helmet. He'd opened up the faceguard so that his voice wouldn't have a metallic echo to it through the phone. "What CAN you tell me about the current situation in the city?"

<"Oh, not much, I'm afraid. Information has been a scarce commodity in here, much to my displeasure.">

Hmm. "I'd like to talk to Vito. Could you put him on?"

<"Ah, he is unavailable, at the moment.">

Hector's brow lowered. "Why?"

<"He was called away by one of the higher-ups around here.">

"...Called away? He's your bodyguard, Your Highness. No one has the authority to call him away except you."

<"...Hmm. Well, when you put it like that, it does seem a bit odd, doesn't it? But I believe they wanted his help in the defense of the fortress. He proved himself quite the asset in saving multiple lives, you know. It would not have felt right to hold him back just for my sake.">

"Even so, he shouldn't have left your side. Especially without telling me."

<"Oh, no, no. Please, Lord Goffe. Don't tell me I've gotten the poor lad into trouble by telling you that. He left at my insistence.">

Garovel chimed in for a private word. 'Wow, this is even worse than I thought.'

Yes. Clearly, something was wrong, but it seemed not much was going to be accomplished in conversation with the prince until Hector was able to meet him face to face. Then, at least, he might be able to learn something from the man's aura.

But before giving up entirely here, Hector had a suspicion that he wanted to pursue. It would require taking quite the direct approach, though. Would that be worth the risk?

After mulling it over across multiple thought processes for a few more seconds and reviewing his own rough guesses about what might really be going on here, he decided to give it a shot.

"Prince David... you wouldn't happen to be under someone's psychic influence, right now, would you?"

There came a very long pause.

<"Excuse me? Psychic influence? What do you mean?">

Unfortunately, there was a very real possibility that the man wasn't even playing dumb--that he was simply unaware of what was happening to him.

Or Hector could be mistaken, of course. Certainly wouldn't have been the first time. It could always be some other insanely weird thing that he'd never encountered before.

Before relenting, though, he wanted to make sure. "I know that probably sounded like a strange question, but I was just asking in case someone else out there happened to be listening."

Next page on the 21st

Thanks for your patience, guys. And for reading. And for definitely not being upset or disappointed in me. Phew. I was a little worried there for a second. You're so nice.

Page 4080

Hmm. Unfortunately, Hector couldn't sense the other man's aura through the phone. "There a problem, sir?"

<"No, I just wasn't expecting you so soon. I wish you had informed me when you departed. It may be difficult for me to obtain entry for you into Livingston on such short notice.">

"Why is that? The place is open to the public. I checked."

<"Normally, yes, but at the moment, the building is in lockdown. Only exempted personnel are allowed to come or go, and I fear I do not qualify. Not without a bit more time to make my case, at least.">

"...This lockdown wouldn't have anything to do with the massive amounts of people roaming the streets in a trance, would it?"

<"Ah, so you've seen them, then. Yes, I've been hearing about them and assumed there was some connection, but I cannot say for sure.">

"What has the local news been saying about them?" said Hector. "I've been checking online, but I haven't seen any mention of this yet."

<"Indeed, news agencies are noticeably quiet about it. From what I've heard, it is being treating as something of a contagion. So perhaps anyone who gets close enough to try to report on it simply ends up in a trance themselves.">

"Hmm. But that wouldn't stop people from catching video footage from afar."

<"I suppose it would depend on how far away the contagion is able to reach. ">

"It also wouldn't stop other people from noticing something off remotely. Lots of suspiciously unanswered calls and texts, for example."

<"Mm. Well, it also just started. So perhaps it may take a while for people elsewhere to learn what is going on. Even we still do not know, after all."

"When exactly did it start? Do you know?"

<"I, um. Good question. Less than a day ago, I suppose.">

Technically, that tracked. It wasn't very long ago that Hector had last spoken to the prince, so if this had been going on the whole time, it would've been extremely strange for the man to have not mentioned it.

Vito Sebolt's report had mentioned something, though.

"Wasn't there a case of mass hysteria going on here?" said Hector. "This whole thing seems different to that. One might even argue... that it's the exact opposite to that, actually."

<"Mass hysteria? Ah, did Vito tell you about that? Yes, I believe that was indeed happening until a short while ago, but the situation has apparently changed.">

Page 4079

There was also the reapers' senses to worry about. They'd picked up on something to the northwest, suspecting that it might be an aberration at work, so Hector didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that these crowds were heading southwest, instead. On the one hand, it meant that these poor people probably weren't at the mercy of some weird new aberration power, but on the other hand, that could also mean that there could be TWO major problems going on in this city instead of just one.

Either way, Hector was making sure not to forget his objective. The entire reason he'd decided to come here was to check up on Prince David, not to get involved in whatever craziness might be going on here. And according to Garovel, the place where the prince was staying was located west of here. So at least they weren't going terribly far out of their way.

Yet.

With the benefit of hovering platforms, it did not take much longer for their ultimate destination to come into view.

Hector had, of course, heard of Livingston Grand Castle before. It was one of the most famous fortresses in the world, after all. And Garovel had certainly teased him about it being the true purpose of Hector wanting to make this trip, but even still, catching that first glimpse of it in the distance, beyond the wall of skyscrapers that kept getting in the way: it was still enough to give him pause.

And when the view became clearer, when he could finally see it in full, he could not help gawking. The pictures truly did not do it justice.

Unfortunately, the current plan did not involve flying right up to it and landing within its walls. It was a controlled airspace, and the city was obviously in a strange state, right now, so they didn't want to risk spooking any worried defenders or residents with their unannounced arrival.

Better to call the prince again, first.

Hector found a nice spot to land on an elevated walkway. The road that it was attached to would have surely been too noisy to hear Prince David over, but it was entirely empty. Not even any abandoned vehicles or silent crowd to speak of.

Selena, Nadim, and Loren all took up positions around Hector as they waited for the prince to pick up. Roman was still flying around in the distance, Hector noticed.

<"Hello there, Lord Goffe,"> came the man's calm and familiar voice.

"Hello, Your Highness."

<"Still planning on dropping by?">

"I'm already here, actually."

<"Wha--? Oh... I see.">

Next page on the 17th

Sorry, guys. Thanks for reading, as always.

Page 4078

Even the normal ground level seemed neglected in comparison to the elevated areas above. While garbage and debris weren't necessarily everywhere, they were still quite noticeable--along with entire city blocks full of tented encampments, which Hector could only assume belonged to the destitute.

Though, at the moment, those places were also abandoned.

As his small party moved through the city, at times on the ground and at times hovering through the air on iron platforms, the unnatural state of the city only became clearer. Hector had wanted to find the source of the screaming that Roman heard with his enhanced hearing, but apparently, it wasn't that easy. Roman couldn't discern a direction that it was coming from.

So after a bit of uncertain wandering, they decided to check on the "hypnotized" crowd that Loren had seen.

It was the strangest thing.

Massive throngs of people covered the streets, none of them uttering so much as a peep. They were just walking with utterly blank expressions on their faces. Where to? No idea, but there was at least a clear flow to follow. They were all heading southwest, as calm and orderly as could be.

No one was in their cars, either. All vehicles appeared to be abandoned in the middle or road, doors left hanging open, keys in the ignitions, engines left running.

In the end, the group decided to simply fly overhead and follow the giant trail of people. They didn't rush, though. Hector had to carry Selena, Nadim, and Loren on iron platforms, but Roman was free to scout around, though Hector asked him not to stray too far.

''Course we're not going too far,' said Voreese. 'I'm not trying to get mindfucked by some spooky bullshit, right now. In fact, maybe I should stay with you and let Roman go by himself.'

"Why do you have to put it like that?" said Roman. "Just say it's the smart the thing to do so that we can relay information back and forth. No need to hurt my feelings."

'Well, think of it this way. As long as I'm still insulting you, you'll know I'm not mentally compromised.'

"Mm. But 'mentally compromised' already describes your normal self. Quite well, actually."

'Shut up and go already. And by the way, I hope you DO get mindfucked, you stupid prick.'

"Love you, too."

'Ugh. Ew.'

Page 4077 -- CCCXXV.

Too much to remember at once, even for him. Countless crimes and crises. Tragedies and faces. Smiling, then agonizing.

Eadric. Cynebald. Aelred. Eadmund. Wynnstan.

Cut in two. Burning alive. Strangled. Skull caved in. Decapitated.

Cenhelm. Leofcild. Hilda. Tata. Cuthberht. Wulfric.

Drowning. Starving. Bleeding out. Buried alive. Stabbed through the neck. Dead in his arms.

Bada. Cenric. Jonathan. Richard. Nina. Martha.

Endless.

Endless.

Endless.

The thought processes were spiraling away from him. He felt them. Going off in different directions. Trying to recall. Trying to see. Memories and the world at once. Trying to address as much as possible. To assess everything. Melancholy be damned.

He contained himself. Pulled everything back. Too dangerous. Too much.

Tenebrach was saying something. Of course he was. Warning him again. And he was replying, too. Reassuring. Everything was fine.

Tenebrach would know it was a lie, but that didn't matter.

Few things did, anymore.

Focus on them. Concentrate. For a bit longer.

Ugh.

Horrible though they could be, the higher realms did offer a strange kind of solace. Since there was so much to worry about in them, so many potential threats, it was somehow easier to not get lost like this.

Here, things were too calm. Too safe. Too quiet.

But that was just a trick of perception, wasn't it? A bias. There was plenty of madness to subdue here, too. He was just too comfortable in his home realm. The familiarity was the problem.

Meditation would help.

There wasn't time. There never was.

No. There always was. Assign the thought processes to them. Stand them by. Calm them down. Calm everything down.

Relax.

Just relax.

Sermung breathed.

He concentrated, and he breathed.


Chapter Three Hundred Twenty-Five: 'The city of the Heart...'
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Andeyal was something else. Hector had always known about it. Seen pictures and video. It was one of the most famous cities in the world, after all.

But man.

Just being here made Atreya feel smaller, somehow. The buildings were absolutely gargantuan. The term "skyscraper" barely seemed like enough to describe them. There were entire roadways up there, too, weaving in between them, apparently connecting to many of those buildings directly. How bad must traffic have gotten in this place for roads like those to be deemed necessary?

More and more, he was starting to understand how that huge area underground could have been left abandoned for so long. With so much going on out here--and up there--did these people ever bother to look down, anymore?

Need a day

Sorry, guys. Next page tomorrow. Thanks for reading, as always.

Page 4076

He sighed as the Abolish random wriggled in his grasp. When had the guy even ended up there? He supposed it hardly mattered. There was no threat here. He was operating on autopilot, and as usual, it would make no difference in the situation's outcome. Everything would be taken care of, easy as could be.

He was even asking the relevant questions without trying. Pressing for names. Connections. Plans. Time frames. General news of the world. Might as well use the opportunity to start getting caught up on things. No doubt, it would take a while.

It always did.

So much downtime for something so simple. Perhaps this was why some of the Primordials had honed their ability to read very deeply into minds and auras. To prevent exactly this kind of sluggishness.

Hmph. But that wasn't really the issue for him, was it? The slowness wouldn't be a problem if he was simply better at being alone with his thoughts. At maintaining a sense of the present. Not dwelling on the past so much.

He'd been hoping to meet Osgar more than anyone else, but thus far, no luck. And thinking about it always got to him. Brought back old weariness.

The melancholy.

One of many possible reminders. He had to pause and rub his eyes, knowing that this wasn't the time.

But it never was, was it? That was the whole problem. Constantly pushing it away. Pretending it wasn't there. Keeping busy. There was always some convenient crisis to distract himself with, wasn't there?

Sermung. Stop. You're drifting again. Listen to my voice.

I know, he told Tenebrach. I don't need another reminder.

Yes, apparently, you do. Concentrate on the situation at hand.

I am. That's the problem. It's not enough. Don't you get it? We could be doing so much more than this, right now. Let's hurry this along already.

Someone was talking to him. One of the civilians he'd just saved. Thanking him for his help.

And he was talking back. Giving her assurances and a smile. Ensuring she could feel safe and warm in his aura. That was so important in situations like this. Everyone in the building needed it.

He recalled many other times in which that had not been possible. When his aura had been too weak. Or when he hadn't even known about such things in the first place.

What horrors he'd witnessed.

Page 4075

And, of course, there were the Primordials to contend with. Thankfully, fighting them was not always necessary, and some were clearly more powerful than others, but regardless, they never made it easy. They were like wrinkles incarnate. Complicating everything they touched.

More difficult still had to be the Elemental High Kings, their Chosen Champions, and their infinite armies. Those realms seemed to have the highest concentration of Chaotic power. The places where the infinite most coalesced. And the Primordials each owed tribute to them, at least in part.

It had taken a very long time to learn that--and even now, he and Tenebrach were not entirely certain of all the details. What were called Primordials in this realm were oftentimes more like special magisters in their home realms. High-ranking counselors to their kings. Given incredible leeway compared to everyone else. Valued for the depth of their knowledge regarding foreign realms and powers.

But not always, naturally. Some were on quite bad terms with their kings, it seemed.

And the Elemental High King of Darkness was on bad terms with them all, no matter their origin. That was why he'd sent his Champion to this realm, long ago, in order to conduct the Prime Hunt.

Or at least, that was as much as Sermung had been able to discern of their inner turmoil over the course of his quest. The problem with the higher realms was that there was always more to learn and never enough time to learn it.

Without a doubt, that had to be why his mentor decided to leave this middle realm the way that he did. Because he'd already given up on ever returning. Once he realized that the Terror could serve as a gateway into those impossible spaces, he allowed himself to be eaten and spirited away.

"I'm sorry, Caedda. The world is in your hands, now."

And by letting his successor slay the Great Terror, the same beast that had 'taken' his life, the legacy of the Vanguard would be maintained despite his sudden absence.

So departed Osgar, the Unbreakable Knight of Andeyal.

Unfortunately, that well-earned moniker suffered quite a bit of ridicule after his 'death,' and now it seemed as though barely anyone remembered it.

But Sermung would never forget. Osgar the Unbreakable may have been a shrewd and half-mad bastard with more spirit than sense, but even with all he'd learned since, Sermung couldn't imagine having anyone else as his teacher.

Next page on the 9th

Thanks for reading, everyone.

Page 4074

It was over as quickly as it began. All aggressors sealed in stone. Very few on this planet could break themselves out of soul-strengthened diamond. This was why defensive auras were so important. Such an aura was typically an outgrowth of the field density of one's soul, but for most servants, that alone would not be enough to shield them from Sermung. Only those who had achieved near perfect soul synchronization with their reaper would have the requisite density. Anyone younger needed something more assisting their aura. Much more.

Which, ultimately, was why Sermung had not had a real fight in this realm in many years. It sometimes made him worry that he was out of practice. Getting rusty.

But the fights in the higher realms were making up for it, no doubt. The only sticking point was how strange they were. Those soul-eaters feasting on Unso had been no pushovers. Not only could they weave together pocket dimensions and distort perception, trapping the mind in a nightmarish psychic prison, but they were also surprisingly strong physically, creating whistling blades that could shrink or grow in size, shredding any material like a swarm of razor-sharp wasps or cleaving entire mountains in two.

Admittedly, though, it had been quite satisfying to make the mountains fight back.

And giving them a taste of their own medicine certainly felt karmic. With Tenebrach being able to assist him in making psychically-reflective crystal prisons, those twisted monstrosities would be feeding on each other's souls until the end of time. Or dimensional collapse, perhaps.

The Idkin could be quite problematic, too, depending on which race he encountered. The hulking ones were especially difficult to deal with, but there were probably even more that he'd never encountered.

And then there were the greatworms, of course. There were plenty of those infesting the higher realms--devouring them entirely, in some cases. Sermung very much did not wish to meet another dimension eater. Battling his way out of that madness had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of his entire life.

But it had also been quite cathartic when he finally learned how to bend that particular reality to his will and slay the beast properly. A useful encounter, in case one of those bastards ever tried to visit this middle realm again. Sermung knew that certain reapers were worried about that, since the last visit had been rebuffed by the Kingsparrows, who were now on the verge of extinction.

Page 4073

That was always a concern, of course, and many precautions had been taken in the event of such a development. But only so much could be done, of course.

Ultimately, it was not the Vanguard's place to take preemptive action against non-servant forces. Nor would it be, for as long as Sermung remained alive--and hopefully longer, if he'd raised his successors correctly. He'd certainly lectured them enough, at least. It was anyone's guess as to whether or not they would listen to him.

Or who it would be.

That particular subject had long been a point of speculation, even to himself and Tenebrach. There had been many times when a clear successor had appeared, only for everything to change. A tragic death. Or a sudden competitor, rendering it not so clear at all, anymore. Or even a retirement.

The latter was quite rare, though. There'd only been one.

Oh. Sermung sensed activity. Some lagging Abolish forces along the trail of misery.

He focused. Harnessed multiple thought processes for faster decision making. Made use of Tenebrach's help, too. Flying at this speed, he needed all the sensory assistance that he could get, lest the whole world zoom by before he could even finish evaluating anything.

It was a small town. A platoon of vile dots was stalking through the halls of a large building. A hospital?

Who were the aggressors? Their auras were thick with malice. Blatant and sloppy. Ruthless and delighted. Anyone he recognized?

No, but what was that? A line. A link. Stretching far and beyond the horizon. All the way into Intar?

A psychic connection? Or something akin to that, at least.

A minion marked by his boss, most likely. Meaning that if something happened to him, the boss would know about it immediately.

Was it worth giving up the element of surprise in order to stop these random bastards from doing whatever it was they were doing?

Of course it was.

He changed course and pressed his senses for greater detail still. Terrified auras. Crying and screaming. Corpses and blood. Fear and merriment.

He had to slow his descent only so that he didn't flatten the whole building. But then he was quick. Working simultaneously on every threatening source at once. There were precisely seventeen on ten different floors. Neutralizing them with crystal coffins was simple enough, but he wanted one to interrogate. Information was king, right now.

Page 4072

The longer he was able to keep his movements a secret, the better. That was something that he had been refining for many years now: suppressing his own aura. His time in the higher realms had been a reminder that, even now, there was yet more to learn. Some of the ancient masters whom he'd encountered had been almost unrecognizable to Tenebrach, who'd met most of them personally.

That was another grave threat to older servants, he knew. Hubris. The sense of having achieved mastery over all.

There was no such thing, Sermung had decided. Hence why Tenebrach's confidence was routinely unfounded.

Alright, you're hurting my feelings, now.

The land of forever rain was a sorry sight, indeed. Pain covered everything. Lingering and crying out. What could have become of the Rainlords? Nothing good, certainly. They would never have allowed this to happen, otherwise.

But they also had a long history of enduring beyond all odds to the contrary. Their subjects, too.

And it seemed he was too late. The trail of misery, while obvious to his senses, was not immediately active. It did not have the kind of radioactive heat that always permeated the collective auras of warzones.

Abolish had indeed already moved on. All the way into Intar?

So bold.

Intar was no pushover, even without the Vanguard's help. A slumbering giant, perhaps, but a giant, nonetheless. The ancestral heart of the Mohssian Empire.

While it was probably true that the country could not field any warriors who were effectively one-man armies, they had the benefit of technological advancement the likes of which could only be achieved by one of the richest and most populous nations in the world. Even Morgunov, for all his boasting, was unlikely to compete with such a massive engine of scientific progress.

In fact, that had been quite the point of contention in the past, earning considerable ire from the Mad Demon, who was of course kept at arm's length by any respectable community.

Even Xander was frequently frustrated by them. They demanded much, promised plenty, and ultimately delivered very little. Some within the Vanguard believed that to be the Intarians' incompetence, but Sermung knew better. He'd snuck into their facilities over the years and observed some of their projects with his own eyes.

They were biding their time. Perhaps those machines would even be turned against the Vanguard, one day.

Page 4071

It had been a while since he'd felt the sky all around him. Wind on his face and in his hair. The world sprawling out around him. Nothing but clouds below and the faintest glint of stars above as evening approached. He'd been stuck in one rock form or another for too long, as of late.

It was important to appreciate these moments while they lasted, he told himself. Live presently. Not just obsess over the future--or the past, occasionally.

The clouds below were rearing up quickly--but not quickly enough. Much as he wanted to enjoy the open air a bit more, time was wasting.

A suit of armor crackled into existence around him. Crystalline and clear but for the way it shimmered, it covered his whole body and increased his descending velocity in an instant, leaving a snapping boom in its wake.

It certainly wasn't necessary. Not in pan-rozum. He could just turn his body completely to crystal and be a literal flying brick. He'd done it plenty of times before.

But this was an older technique. One he'd developed early on, then later refined thanks to his old mentors. Many of them had grown up in some manner of knightly tradition--just as he himself had done--and so they always had a preference for it, even when other techniques began gaining more popularity among newer generations of warriors.

And it still had its uses, of course. In some ways, it even felt superior. Plus, an overreliance on pan-rozum was a genuine threat to older servants, Sermung had found. Over the centuries, he'd seen so many great warriors come and go, and he couldn't help noticing how they often seemed to suddenly "forget" much of what had made them great in the first place once they were finally able to use pan-rozum regularly.

It was like watching a lifelong swordsman give up the blade completely, just because he'd gotten his hands on a gun. There was something tragic in that, even if it was in some ways understandable.

He rocketed down through the clouds, letting his senses guide him toward his destination on the horizon.

Teleporting would have been faster, of course, but he wanted to address this trail of misery before his eyes.

And there were always wrinkles with that power, too. Invitations to onlooking threats. He didn't want to alert them to his presence just yet.