M.S. Davidson
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41. What's Next?
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 16:01:22 +0000 UTCChas shook out his hand like he'd just punched a brick wall, but his stance didn't shift an inch. "Damn, she's got a lot more mana than I expected," he muttered, then turned to me with that trademark grin. "Hey, kid! I hear you've had a busy week. Oh, hold on—"
The courtyard wall exploded.
Maris shot through the opening like a missile, a glowing red blade aimed straight at Chas's heart. Something invisible caught her mid-air, slowing her momentum until her feet hit the ground with predatory grace. She pushed forward against the unseen force, each step like wading through liquid concrete.
I recognized Chas's presence—his aura, the same overwhelming Rebellion I'd felt in the Tavern. It filled the space, pressing outward with defiant power, declaring that nothing could touch him unless he damn well allowed it.
"Whoa now, I wasn't aware it was that kind of fight, Mary." Chas sidestepped with casual ease as her sword flickered out of existence like a bad magic trick. "I can pull my weapon out if you'd like to make this interesting."
Maris shifted immediately to close combat, and I got a front-row seat to a masterclass in violence.
Her strikes were perfect—textbook displays of martial mastery that could've been choreographed. But it didn't matter. Chas slipped past every hit as if she were moving through molasses. Her robes snapped through the air as she spun into a series of kicks that should have liquefied his organs, but Chas flowed around them like they were gentle suggestions.
His golden energy pulsed outward, actively mocking her efforts.
Without Bravery flaring in my mind, I would have missed half their movements. Their auras clashed like storm fronts—his brilliant gold against her deep violet. I wondered if the colors meant something, but there wasn't time to analyze the cosmic light show.
Maris's composure cracked like glass. Her precise strikes grew erratic, her face twisting with frustration that was beautiful to watch.
"Oh, don't look like that," Chas said, grin sharp enough to cut steel as he dodged another strike. "You're the one who made sure I became a Monster Hunter. I'm just doing my job."
He slipped past her guard like smoke and tapped her on the forehead with a single finger.
The gesture was so casual, so dismissive, that it might as well have been a slap.
Bravery screamed a warning just as my knee gave out.
A hand caught me under the arm, hauling me upright with iron strength. Cold metal pressed against my collarbone, sharp enough to part skin.
An orange dagger.
Not just tipped with Orichalcum—the entire thing seemed forged from the spirit metal, humming with lethal energy.
The courtyard fell silent like someone had hit a cosmic mute button.
"Then we'll just kill him, and the problem will be solved," said a voice behind me. The maid from earlier. Her tone was as casual as if she were discussing lunch plans.
Chas's grin vanished like someone had flipped a switch. He raised his hands slowly. "Whoa now—"
Maris's foot slammed into the side of his head mid-sentence.
The impact cracked through the air like a hammer on an anvil, and the ground cracked. Chas barely moved—his head tilted slightly before he straightened, pushing her off balance with the lightest shove.
"Killing an Acolyte of the Monster Hunters is a monumentally bad idea," he said, playful tone evaporating into something cold and dangerous.
"Then move aside," Maris spat, violet energy crackling around her like barely contained lightning. "And we'll sort this out once he's gone."
She stepped toward me, murder written on every line of her body.
A tiny yellow canary, wearing a ridiculously oversized wide-brimmed hat, landed on her head.
Maris froze mid-step. The bird opened its beak and sang—what sounded like cheerful peeping to everyone else was, somehow, the most vicious string of profanity I had ever heard in my life.
The bizarre moment stretched like taffy until Diana's voice cut through the bird's colorful commentary.
"Well said, Stanley."
She stood on the courtyard wall like gravity was optional, dressed in a shining blue qipao that made her look like a warrior goddess. Her white hair was pulled into a tight bun, and orange energy burned around her like controlled wildfire.
She stepped down into the courtyard with practiced grace, as if lowered by invisible strings.
"I believe you are currently holding my apprentice at knifepoint," Diana said, tone light and conversational. The weight made my throat go desert-dry. "Which is very unbecoming of someone in your position, my dear Maris."
Maris glared daggers at Diana but didn't move. Stanley, still perched on her head like an insulting hat, let out another string of profanity-laced chirps that would make sailors blush.
Diana's steps were slow, deliberate, each one measured like she'd already seen how this movie ended. The flickering orange aura around her shifted with each movement, like living flame dancing to unheard music.
"Diplomacy, darling. I'd really appreciate it if we could talk this out." She gestured vaguely at the courtyard, at the massive ship still looming overhead like a metallic storm cloud. "Maybe one of those tournaments your group is so fond of? But this?" Her voice sharpened to a razor's edge. "This is a bit much, don't you think?"
Maris didn't answer. She remained frozen in place while the tiny yellow canary on her head started glowing with soft, ominous light.
Diana tilted her head with predatory curiosity. "If my apprentice dies here, Stanley will melt your fucking face off—and I promise, I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."
Maris's jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth. "You know how he got here, and you still insist?" Her voice came out strained, forced through barely contained fury. "We can't have Caretakers here. Not—"
Red trotted into the courtyard.
He moved at his usual easy pace, tail up, tongue hanging lazily from the side of his mouth, like he was heading to the park. But something about him felt different. Deliberate. His red fur seemed to hum with that shining energy, his paws too silent against stone for something his size.
He didn't slow until he was sitting squarely between Maris and me, cocking his head slightly before looking at me with eyes that held far too much intelligence.
I barely had time to process the moment before Diana's voice lost its threatening edge.
"Uh… does that mana beast belong to someone?"
The tension shifted like a held breath suddenly exhaled. Maris remained locked in place, muscles coiled beneath her robes, but Diana's focus had entirely snapped to Red with laser intensity.
Orange energy rippled through his fur like liquid fire. His eyes met mine, and in that instant, I knew exactly what he was asking: Ready?
Despite everything—the knife at my throat, the insane woman holding it, the cosmic-level powers facing off around me—I smiled. Whatever he was about to do, I trusted him completely.
"That's my dog," I said.
Red barked once.
The dagger at my throat vanished.
I absorbed every mana pearl from my earring at once, the rush hitting like a flood tide. Mana slammed through my pathways faster than my body could handle, making my head go fuzzy and everything feel distant and muffled. Something dripped down my shirt—for a second, I thought it was blood, but no. Golden liquid ran down my collar, pooling at my feet in impossible spirals.
The dagger. It had completely dissolved into a metallic soup.
Behind me, the maid took a sharp, disbelieving breath. "What the—"
Valor erupted inside me like a supernova.
Blue energy surged outward, forcing my body past every limit I had. The sudden power nearly buckled my legs, but I braced against it, every nerve in my body burning with electric fire. There was more than enough juice for me to put up a fight.
I didn't think—I acted.
I slammed my head back without hesitation, the crack of impact ringing through my skull as I felt her nose break with a satisfying crunch. Her grip loosened just enough for me to twist free as her fist came at me faster than humanly possible.
Pain ripped through my leg and abs as I barely avoided her strike, moving like water around her arm. I threw a backward kick that took virtually all my remaining mana, putting everything I had into it.
It felt like kicking a pile of bricks wrapped in steel.
Jenny grunted awkwardly from the impact as she launched backward, skidding across stone before hitting the ground in a graceless heap.
Chas let out a whoop that echoed off the courtyard walls. "Fucking nice! They don't just give the Breaker title to anyone, you know, Jenny."
"Well, that's one way to end a standoff." Diana strolled forward and kissed Chas on the cheek like they were meeting for coffee. "Good to see you, dear."
He beamed like Christmas morning. "Not nearly as good as seeing you in that dress. Damn."
Stanley finally abandoned his perch on Maris's head, fluttering to Chas's shoulder with an indignant peep that somehow conveyed deep personal offense.
Maris's shout echoed through the courtyard like a battle cry. "Fuck! FUCK!"
"Oh, shut up," Elena's voice cut through the aftermath like a blade through silk. She approached with arms crossed, surveying the wreckage of her city with the expression of someone deeply unimpressed. "You lost your position. So now you get to negotiate. And that little dagger stunt? That's gonna cost you extra."
I barely heard them. The world tilted sideways, vision blurring as spots danced across my sight like drunken fireflies. Too much mana followed by the lightning-fast drain of Valor—my body was staging a full revolt.
Chas stepped toward me, watching with new intensity. The golden glow around him had faded, but there was something in his expression I hadn't seen before. Appraisal. Calculation. Like he was seeing me for the first time.
Then he grinned. The same grin he'd given me when he kicked me through the portal.
"Sorry, kid," he said.
And then he punched me in the face.
***
I woke up on a couch that felt like clouds had crafted it, faint light filtering through the room in soft golden hues that made everything look like a warm dream. Somewhere in the background, quiet music played—a slow, rhythmic melody that reminded me of rainfall.
Pain lanced through my head when I tried to sit up, and my face throbbed where Chas had sucker-punched me with the force of a freight train. At least my mana felt mostly normal. Small victories.
The room reminded me of the meditation space where I'd met Ferris, but smaller, cozier, with an almost homey feeling. The major difference was significantly more dog.
Red had sprawled across the opposite couch like he owned the place, head resting on his paws, watching me with the unwavering judgment of someone who'd been waiting way too long for me to wake up. When I moved, he let out a loud huff and narrowed his eyes. The message was crystal clear: snacks. Now.
I still wasn't sure what he was. Even Diana hadn't known, and the way he'd walked into that fight between actual superhumans didn't exactly scream normal pet. But he'd looked at me, and I'd understood. Whatever he was, he'd chosen to stick with me.
That had to count for something.
I fished a piece of cheese bun I'd secretly stored from my earring and tossed it to him. He snatched it from the air with surgical precision and retreated to the floor with a satisfied grunt.
Magical dog was still a dog.
A door flickered into existence and swung open, voices spilling out mid-argument—heated and clipped, as if the conversation involved life-and-death decisions.
"Later." Diana's voice cut them off like a guillotine. She stepped through, and the door vanished behind her like it had never existed.
She sighed heavily, running a hand through her white hair. "Gaia's sagging tits, I need a drink." Then she spotted me. "For fuck's sake, Ben, you're bleeding on the couch. Here."
She tossed a small white pill onto the table like she was feeding a pet.
I grabbed my water gourd from my earring and swallowed the pill without question. Relief spread through me instantly, dulling the sharp edges of pain while my mana pathways locked down as my body finally recovered from its recent abuse.
That was nifty; a pill didn’t seem to take any mana—it just took longer to operate.
Diana collapsed onto the couch opposite me, rubbing her temples like she was debating where to start this conversation. Before she could speak, I pulled out the bottle of Sevenfold Spirit from my earring and held it out. It was mostly empty, but Diana's eyes lit up like I'd just offered her the meaning of life.
"Where the fuck did you get that?" Then, deciding she didn't actually care about the answer, she grabbed the bottle and took a long drink. She exhaled with pure contentment. "Ah. I'm glad to see you're figuring out that earring." She studied me, sharpness returning to her gaze. "And that display—Valor, was it? A bit shaky, but damn impressive. Almost enough to get you into Sylvarus on merit alone."
I nodded carefully, not wanting to jostle the healing still working through my system. "Sorted it out yesterday… or maybe the day before. Time's gotten weird. How long was I out? What happened?"
"Several hours." She took another drink, swirling the bottle absently. "Oh, don't look so serious. No one died, and the city was already in shambles. In fact, that boat couldn't have missed more buildings if Maris had been trying to avoid them."
I frowned, thinking back to the cataclysmic feeling of streets being ripped apart. "Alright. What now?"
Her smile turned cryptic in a way that made my stomach clench. "We'll get to that. Want to play question-for-question again? I'll bet you've got better ones this time."
She pointed at Red, who perked up at the attention like he knew he was about to become the center of attention. "What is he? To you, I mean."
"That's Red. He's a dog. My dog," I said, nudging his belly with my foot. "I had one on Earth too. Starting to think they aren't that common here."
Diana's expression softened, just for a moment. She got up and walked to a nearby table, returning with a book so ancient it looked ready to crumble into dust if someone breathed on it wrong.
"Well, he's very clearly a spirited beast, and not just a regular mana beast," she explained, settling back down.
Red sat up fast, his attention snapping to the book with laser focus. The illustrations inside showed dogs—detailed sketches from every angle, annotated in a careful script that looked like it belonged in a museum.
"An Arcadian scholar penned this during the last age," Diana said, treating the book like the priceless artifact it was. "Eighty to a hundred thousand years ago, give or take. Time wasn't exactly documented well back then."
I frowned, pieces clicking together. "Arcadian? There were people in Earth's ancient history with that name. It's come up a lot in our stories and myths."
Diana raised an eyebrow with genuine interest. "The First Ones. The first living species in the Multiverse, created by Gaia herself. And this mana beast," she tapped a drawing on the page, "Canine. They weren't just familiars—they were bound to the Arcadians, connected beyond magic, beyond life itself. When the Arcadians fell, the Canines died with them. Your dog isn't common because they've been essentially extinct for thousands of years."
I stared at Red, trying to process that bombshell. Another civilization lost to time, and they had dogs too. And somehow, this one had survived the apocalypse.
"So where did he come from?" Diana asked, though it felt like she wasn't really asking me so much as thinking out loud.
"I don’t know," I admitted. "Katie said that she and Carlos used to feed him. He's been here a while, apparently."
Diana turned that over in her mind like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, but before she could respond, I pushed forward. "What destroyed the First Ones?"
She didn't hesitate. "The Shi'an." Her voice was flat, stripped of its usual teasing edge. "More commonly known as the Caretakers. They are, literally, death incarnate. They're not alive—never have been. The Aldertree saw one a millennium ago and still passes the memory to us at birth."
A cold weight settled in my stomach like a stone. "These Caretakers wouldn't be huge and made of metal, would they?"
Diana laughed, breaking the heavy mood like shattering glass. "What a weird question. No. My memory of them is old and not my own, but they are like us non-beast-folk outwardly. That's as far as the similarities go, though."
Not giant evil robots, then. That was… something, at least.
"And these things brought me here?" The pieces clicked together in ways I absolutely did not like.
Diana's eyes gleamed with dangerous curiosity. "It's my turn for a question." She swirled the bottle thoughtfully. "Why do you think Maris wants to get rid of you?"
Her tone had a leading edge to it, like she was walking me toward an answer I already knew—or maybe one I just didn't want to say out loud.
"The crazy death dome that started this whole thing," I said slowly, feeling the words form like a terrible revelation, "was the Caretakers."
"More than likely." Diana leaned forward, intensity sharpening her features. "She's following an agreement. Portals to spirit realms have been showing up more often on Ark these last few years, which I hear you've seen firsthand now. Most things can't make it through, but the rule is crystal clear: if anything connected to the Caretakers comes across, we put it back and get it as far from Ark as possible. Same with Terrans most of the time. But that's just because your kind rarely fits in."
I let that sink in like poison. "And I'm a human connected to the Caretakers." I exhaled slowly. "So… why did you rush me onto Ark instead? Sounds like Maris has a valid point."
Diana took another drink, her eyes narrowing like she was choosing her words with surgical precision.
"Without drowning you in details, it's because something saved you from them." She met my gaze, voice quieter now, loaded with implication. "Something defeated them and sent you here, more or less. And from what you told us, it wasn't just anything. It was a Runebinder. Someone powerful enough to make the impossible possible. We didn't know that was even achievable, and who am I to go against someone that ridiculously strong?"
She tapped the bottle against her knee like a metronome. "So now we get to figure out why they did it."
I leaned back against the couch, letting Diana's words sink in like acid. Something saved me from the Caretakers. A Runebinder. It wasn't just that I survived—it was that something stopped them.
That was a terrifying thought on multiple levels.
I exhaled slowly. "So let me get this straight. The rule is: if something connected to the Caretakers shows up, it gets sent back. No exceptions."
Diana nodded grimly. "That's the agreement. The Hunters enforce it, and the ruling factions support it. The Empire… well, it's probably best that we don't inform the Empire for now."
"So you broke a bunch of rules for someone you never met?"
Diana swirled the bottle absently, her demeanor shifting to something almost vulnerable. "I had a gut feeling."
I arched an eyebrow at her. "A gut feeling?"
She smirked, but there was something deeper behind it. "I mean, it helped that Chas contacted me and said, 'Hey, I found a guy who survived the fucking Caretakers—we should check that out.'"
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of cosmic expectations. "And now Maris wants to kick me back through a portal because I might be a threat."
"Not just might be, darling," Diana's expression turned deadly serious. “Maris isn't an idiot. She's ruthless, but she doesn't waste resources on petty paranoia. Even though we haven't seen one in a thousand years, that doesn't make the Caretakers any less of an existential threat. The Multiverse is a big fucking place, but if they come looking, I guarantee you don't want to be the thing they're hunting.”
That wasn't exactly reassuring.
I shifted forward. "And you're still convinced I should stay?"
Diana shot me a look like I'd just asked if water was wet. "Ben, you figured out your Seal in under a week. You survived multiple fights that should've turned you into paste. Your familiar just melted a fucking Orichalcum dagger through sheer will. Even without my curiosity about how you got here, I'd still be dragging you both to Sylvarus kicking and screaming. And I'm pretty sure Lana will burn the gods-damned tower down if she doesn't get to study you soon."
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Right. No pressure, then."
Diana grinned and took another sip, clearly feeling the liquor. "Speaking of pressure…" Her tone turned almost playful, which was never a good sign.
I furrowed my brow, dread creeping up my spine. "Oh, I don't like that lead-in."
She leaned back, watching me like a cat with an interesting mouse as she took another sip from the bottle. "You now have a way to make sure Maris doesn't try to grab you again. Something even she can't argue with."
The dread crystallized into certainty. "Diana, what did you do?"
Her grin widened to predatory proportions. "We're going to have a Grand Tournament. Cassandra says she's explained it to you."
I stared at her in absolute horror. "Oh, fuck no. You realize I've been here for a week, right? A week."
"Yep." She took another sip, completely unbothered by my existential crisis.
Like exhibit A in a case for insanity, I gestured vaguely at myself. "I just learned how to use Valor. I still pass out when I use it. What part of this sounds like a good idea to anyone with functioning brain cells?"
She gave me a slow, knowing look that made my skin crawl. "The part where you don't actually have to win."
That made me pause. I opened my mouth to reply but closed it again, gears turning.
Diana leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees with predatory focus. "A Grand Tournament isn't just about fighting—it's about proving capability. As long as you perform well enough, you'll be acknowledged as a legitimate force on Ark. If you place high enough, then even Maris can't claim you're a loose end to be cleaned up."
I frowned, mulling that over. It made a twisted kind of sense. I didn't have to win—I just had to not embarrass myself completely.
"Besides," Diana continued, stretching lazily like a satisfied cat, "it's not like you'll be alone. You'll have tons of support, training, and plenty of time to prepare."
I eyed her suspiciously. "How much time?"
She leaned back, draining the last of the bottle with theatrical flair, her smirk turning razor sharp.
"A week."
I groaned and let my head fall back against the couch. "Fuck."
