Outworld Liberators

Business on Spendworth Hills, Silvertoll Summits, and Ledgegrove Bazaar swelled again.

The leaders of each city sat in a closed meeting, weighing how to take advantage of Cairnlight Barterhold.

A man with a mustache wore a glass loupe with layered lenses on his forehead. One look said expert appraiser.

"I saw their shops. It was masterfully done. We copied their setup, and the old man over there did not seem to mind," he said.

Another man, metal knuckle dusters still on his hands, planted his fists on the table.

"Our business is not about shops. The problem is this. What if they start taking work such as assassination, just like us?"

The thin man in a herb stained robe chuckled.

"Naive. Do you think that old man is petty enough to make trouble with us? Do not overthink it. If he wanted to, would we not be undead by now?"

The others nodded. Centuries of age had not dulled their instinct to move, only taught them when to hesitate. The man with the loupe spoke again.

"Raise your hand if you agree we meet the old man."

While that secretive meeting unfolded, Radeon had already turned his few ghosts into temporary surveillance artifacts. One of their eyes was borrowed to display what the other eye saw.

He had also made a Ghost Fog Immunization Pill. It was not medicine, not in the usual sense.

It was a pill made from ghost essence, carrying their approval. Once swallowed, it would immunize the person from the specific ghost fog Radeon wanted them to pass through.

He tipped a pill into each of the four disciples. All of them woke.

Radeon looked at Fay. She averted her gaze. She felt useless. Not smart enough. Not strong enough.

All she did was bring him shame. She pictured those white robed men laughing at him on the pavilion, making him a joke.

The thought made her shoulders slump.

Radeon saw her sinking into it again and shook his head.

Spice Cure wandered in the fog, even sucking in a mouthful as if tasting it.

"Stale," she said, making a disgusted face. "Master, where are we going?"

"Watching a show," he said.

They did not understand, but they followed.

The moment they entered the pavilion, they saw linen cloths hung in rows across the interior.

Each cloth displayed black and white moving photos, each one marked with small numbers and letters.

The images were crisp enough to make out details. They were views from within the four peaks.

They stared, amazed. It was the first time they had seen such craft.

Gauge Point felt it at once. This was an advanced surveillance array. Still, none of them understood the purpose.

"A27. Zoom in on that carriage," Radeon said.

The image tightened. A normal carriage came into view, plain on purpose, parked near the outskirts of Ledgegrove Bazaar.

Radeon produced four thick sheets of paper and set down four pencils.

"Note every move you can predict. Write it down before it happens. This is divination training."

He turned as if to leave.

Fay spoke up. She remembered his state when she found him by the side of the Requiem Griefwaters, concern on her face.

"Master, where are you going?"

"I've got work to hold this peak," he said. "If I show up on the screen, ignore me. Call what you can. Every event."

He pointed at a specific display where Fay, Good Chip, Gauge Point, and Spice Cure were all in view.

"No copying your brothers and sisters. You get it."

Then he went down to the underground cavern of the Voulgrim Evershades. There was no fog.

Five hundred wolves fitted with wagons came into view. Each wagon carried a Tiyanak.

They climbed down and played at being knights and heroes, their small voices piping through the cavern.

If someone could ignore their gray-veined infant bodies, they almost looked cute.

In a crawl space beneath Spendworth Hills, a miniature group of Preta worked without pause to build an array, directed by Maeron and Ewan.

On the side of Silvertoll Summits, Oisin and Elsin were in charge of digging under every secret location they had mapped beforehand.

Radeon waited and watched, his Myridion Seersight running at its maximum.

The men with the carriages dismounted from their horses and climbed into the wagons instead.

Inside were large stones engraved with runic characters. As they channeled energy through them, seventy-two pillars of light shot up into the sky.

Men gathered around the carriage in a tight ring, clearly protecting it.

The light began to weave itself into a structure, like a huge bird cage forming in the air.

People in Ledgegrove Bazaar looked up and saw the lines crisscross above them.

Feet started to move on their own. Bodies shifted without consent, like a defensive mechanism taking over.

Then the motion cut off all at once, and people dropped to the ground as if something had been severed.

Those who had never touched the Vision Crystal became alarmed, shouting and grabbing at each other.

Those who were not too immersed in the Vision Crystal became frantic in a different way.

Their faces turned ferocious, like something inside them was trying to take hold.

The cultivators in charge of Ledgegrove Bazaar tried to mobilize qi and found nothing answered.

Their bodies were still strong, still trained, but their energy would not rise. They ran toward the culprits anyway.

Heavy water beads plummeted down on them.

Liquid Orbital Bombardment.

The droplets fell one after another, crushing bodies into paste with no warning from above.

Most of the mortals and cultivator stall owners were higher up on the mountain, selling their wares, and without any force to call them, they all acted as if there were no differences.

Then their attention snagged once more.

Something traveled through the sky at unimaginable speed. It split the air and left a long torn stream behind it.

A whistling followed, and at the very top of Ledgegrove Bazaar, impact struck like a volcanic detonation.

Rocks burst outward. A ten-meter sword rang out, crisp and almost melodic, as it slammed into a seven-colored barrier.

Sparks flew. The blade kept pressing, its momentum still trying to breach.

From seven more directions, seven more streaks tore across the sky.

The second sword hit. A defeated ring answered it. Those too close bled from eyes and ears as the soundwave rolled through them.

Then a third struck. Then a fourth. On the sixth impact, the seven-colored barrier shattered.

The seventh and eighth swords did not stop. They plunged directly into the peak. Thunderous explosions followed, then a sudden lull.

From above, heavy water droplets rained down without pause.

People did not stop to watch, but the peak was too large to descend quickly.

Thousands scrambled downward, terrified of what would come next.

When the assault from above finally eased, men in masks stepped forward.

They carried swords. They wore black robes under dark steel set with spirit stones.

Behind them came men with turtle shells. They peeked from inside the shells and pointed.

Each finger that pointed was answered by the swordsmen. Bodies turned into red mist where the blades fell.

Those judged beyond saving from the Vision Crystal were cut down one after another.

Those men who had no contact with the Vision Crystal were allowed to pass by the masked men.

Seeing the scene, the crowd descending the mountain hesitated, then froze, trapped between the way down and what waited behind them.

Radeon's ghost body was already at the back of the crowd. Wolves stood harnessed as horses, disguised with careful tack and steady posture.

He raised his voice over the panic.

"Anyone who does not have wares with them, come. Ride my wagons."

He pointed to a hundred empty wagons lined up conveniently close.

People saw the space and the promise of escape, and they scrambled for it at once, clawing for seats.

The infant ghosts had already learned the taste of Vision Crystals.

They pushed away those infected and pulled in those who would not bring trouble into the wagon.

The sorting looked like chaos to the crowd.

While that happened, the real Radeon guided other wagons into the scattered press of disorganized looters.

The first targets were the fields. Each wagon had a false bottom, and a Tiyanak crouched beneath it.

Every plantation the transport passed became bare. Herbs vanished into hidden space as if the earth itself was being skinned.

Jekyll and his organization had keen eyes. They noticed the thieving, yet they did not spare it a glance.

Looting was normal, and herbs were not their target.

Once the false bottom was filled, the wagon would finally accept riders and continue down the mountain.

Men with turtle shells moved among the flow and shook their coins, scanning each carriage.

Each time they reached one of Radeon's wagons, they shook their heads and waved it through.

Because of that consistency, a report was passed along by soundless qi.

When the higher ups heard this, investigations through divination rolled out.

Threads touched the people without them being aware.

The diviners, turtle shells in hand, looked in and saw what seemed to be a recreated past.

There, they saw the simpler reason.

The Vision Crystal consumers were showing beastly signs. They were aggressive, and they wanted to get out fast.

They reeked of a chemical stench that made other passengers wince.

A common-sense reason they were left behind.

It made the decision easy to justify. They dismissed the delayed carriages, and they all flowed toward the Wordsworth Shortspires, where the Groundshrank Armadillo Intelligence Agency operated.