Zeroth Moment: My Cheat Skill Is Stupid, So I'll Just Ignore It

Topher blinked, stunned. "Hey... w-what? What the hell are you doing here?"

"As always, your manners never cease to impress," Varissian sniffed. "A fine way to welcome a friend, even if perhaps you do not hold me in the same esteem as I hold you."

"Hey, no, wait, that's not what I meant at all," Topher stammered. He grabbed the elf by the shoulders, who jerked as if he'd received an electric shock. "I'm glad to see you, sure, but this place isn't safe for you. There's all kinds of crazy shit going --"

With another flash, Alkran reappeared once more; Topher swore and jumped, startled by the abrupt transition. Ignoring Varissian, Alkran faced Topher squarely and fixed him with a cool, dead-eyed expression. "Master Bailey, I am to inform you that your presence is required. Please follow me." Immediately, he began to stride away; cursing, Topher hurried to follow.

To his frustration, he noticed Varissian tagging along behind him; he groaned, then reached out and tweaked the mage's sleeve. Alkran whirled, his face a scowl of anger, but Topher raised an open palm in placation. "Just give me a second, pal, okay? This is important." He turned back to Varissian, sighing; there was pretty much no way he wasn't going to sound like an asshole. "Varissian, I saw Kelfir two days ago; he's on a mission for something really important, but last I saw, he was alive and had all his limbs." Unlike Quint. "I'll catch up with you when I can, but for now, go back to Frostford and your wife before the castle gets blown up or something. Again." He turned away and gestured for Alkran to proceed, but swore when he saw that Varissian was still following them; the elf's expression was a mask of grim determination, and his hands were knotted into fists in the sleeves of his robe. "Damn it. Do we need to call the guards or something?"

"My instructions are to convey you," Alkran replied wearily; "the elf appeared at the gate looking for you, and I had no time to dissuade him. If he displeases you, destroy him; I have no attention to spare for such distractions." Ignoring Topher's glare, he sped up, almost speed-walking now; Topher sighed and quickened his own pace to match. Let's just get this over with. I can send him home when I get done with whatever this guy's so keyed up about.

Turning several corners and ascending a staircase, Alkran led the way towards a large pair of stone double doors; rather than opening them, however, he simply gestured. Topher blinked as the doors swung silently apart on thick, heavy hinges; he didn't cast anything. How did he do that? As he scurried through the doors after the other mage, he noticed the doors swinging shut with alacrity; for a moment, he dared hope that Varissian would be left behind, but at the last instant the elf hurled himself at the doors and slipped through by the slimmest of margins before being crushed between them. Topher groaned. This motherfucker is gonna get himself killed. I'm never gonna get paid back for that healing potion.

Passing through another door, they emerged into a vast conference chamber; a large, round table of flat gray stone sat in the center of the room, with a few occupied chairs both at the table and at the edges of the room. As Topher had expected, Zashe sat the head; but the other people at the table were a shock to him.

He'd been expecting to see Quint here, and maybe the other Archmages too; he'd also secretly been hoping that Rudo and Hana had returned by now as well. But instead, the other side of the table was occupied by two Japanese teenagers he'd never expected to see again. "Okano," he gasped, dumbfounded; the blonde-haired boy nodded in his direction, and the bespectacled, braided figure of Megumi Nakano glanced shyly towards him as well. Forgetting Varissian, he stepped forward, astonished. "What the hell are you kids doing here? You were supposed to go somewhere safe!"

Okano gave him a mournful look. "That was our intent, Bailey-sama. But, as usual, circumstances have conspired in manners unforeseen." His mouth twisted wryly at the irony of his chosen words; behind him, Topher could see the other C-Rank and D-Rank kids who had survived the Last Battle of the Demon War. "For the last two days, we have sought refuge from the conflict; but within hours, devastating attacks from unexpected quarters began to harry and menace us. I cast many divinations, but each haven we assayed granted me only portents of doom; last night, we were on the brink of despair." He gestured towards the king. "But, when all seemed lost, I was granted a vision of hope; I saw, with great clarity, a bright and peaceful future for myself, my wife and child, and my friends. I do not know what it means, but..." He shrugged. "The vision begins here, with the same king who Summoned us. That is all I know."

Bold, energizing hope flowed through Topher; minutes ago, he'd been lost and frustrated, but this was a real game-changer. Maybe it means the only way to be safe is to help us fight. The True Demon Lord might be smart, but even he can't see the future, or else we'd all be dead already. Trying to control his elation, he gave the boy a thumbs-up. "Well, I'd rather you guys were out of the fight entirely, but if we can't have that, at least we know we've got a chance. Quint will be happy to know you're back, at least." He turned to Zashe. "Speaking of, where is he?"

"The Archmage is abroad," returned Zashe without much enthusiasm; Topher noticed he had prominent bags under his eyes, and realized with a tinge of regret that everybody else had probably been working their butts off to save the world while he'd been busy having sex and shirking all his responsibilities. "He strengthens our ties with the Demesne, exchanging his knowledge of Dungeons with Kholoth and his Queen while they pool intelligence regarding the True Demon Lord. With luck, we will collectively be well-positioned both to end the current conflict and prepare for the next."

"Right. The Dungeon Break, whatever that is." Topher nodded. "What about Hana and Rudo?"

"Miss Shirakane and Master, ah, Muchenje," Zashe responded with a frown, "are in the company of Archmage Siukh; I understand they are undertaking efforts of a clandestine nature. Beyond that, I know nothing." His grin was weary and full of self-mockery. "A common state for a king, I am afraid. But Apprentice Alkran suffices, until his master returns."

Apprentice who?! Topher blinked, turning; he saw the tall, straw-haired mage glare at him, and a number of things snapped into place. Of course. Quint wouldn't trust training the C-Rankers and D-Rankers to a random mage; it had to be somebody at or near C-Rank who knew enough about magic to drum it into complete neophytes, but be disposable enough that they weren't busy doing anything of real urgency like keeping the kingdom from burning down. No wonder that guy hates me. He nudged Varissian. "See? You aren't the only one who gets crappy assignments from your mage teacher."

"You may assume a cameraderie of shared experience," the elf responded tartly, "when you observe him being beaten by an autonomously-animated broom." Still, his expression seemed softer than before; Topher could tell he was awed by the events occurring around him. "You keep counsel with the king. You are attended by an Archmage's apprentice. You speak of my father -- Lord of the Golden Tower -- as though you were colleagues." His eyebrow rose as he turned to look at Topher appreciatively. "Your fortunes have improved with remarkable alacrity. It is difficult to believe you are the same Christopher Bailey who struggled to master a Flame Jet spell and required a cane to turn over in bed only a few months ago."

Topher laughed; his back twinged slightly in recollection of the agony he'd endured during their last meeting. "Yeah, well, it wasn't all sunshine and roses. But trust me, you got the better end of the deal; you got to spend more than two days with your wife when you got married." He sobered. "But seriously, Varissian. You need to get out of here -- Strathmore isn't safe. I'd be running if I had any choice."

The elf shook his head. "We were here already; Elara was summoned on Guild business a week ago. When we arrived, the city was in chaos; many at the Adventurer's Guild had fled, and she felt compelled to offer her services until more permanent replacements could be found." His mouth quirked. "Against my advice, of course. But I gather you know something of such matters."

Topher chuckled and shook his head. "Less than you probably think, but enough to sympathize."

"At any rate," the elf continued, glancing uneasily at Okano and the others, "I was purchasing supplies in a small attempt to aid her efforts when I happened to hear that both you and my father had been seen at the castle. I expected to be turned away at the gate, but fortunately the elf maiden you saw earlier arrived at a similar hour; I merely took advantage of the fortuitous coincidence."

Topher froze.

-- coincidence --

Wait.

-- happened to hear --

-- fortunately --

Oh shit.

He only had a split second; he knew who the target would be. With the whip-crack of his will, he reached out for the stone pillar behind him -- away from the table -- and gathered everyone within the coils of his attraction; Zashe and Varissian were the closest, and they crashed into him like twin missiles, bowling him off his feet and lifting him into the air as they were collectively thrown backwards. Across the table, Okano and Megumi lifted into the air with shocked and surprised expressions; he saw the blonde-haired boy begin to cast a spell, saw the ring-festooned fingers of his wife reach for some tiny, unfolding contraption.

Then everything in front of him ceased to exist.

With a transition so abrupt it caused him physical pain, everything within the center of his field of vision went dead black; for a moment, he thought he'd gone blind, thought he'd been too slow. But then he impacted with teeth-rattling force into the wall behind him; he felt nothing through his Arch Shielding, but an annoyed and pained grunt told him that he'd managed to take out Alkran in the bargain. Groaning, he slumped downwards, Varissian and Zashe falling away from him to crash on the stone floor; they were alive. He was alive.

But that was all.

He wobbled to his feet, stumbling over the shocked and disoriented forms of the king, the Archmage's apprentice, and the other Archmage's son; all he could see was the empty black space where, moments ago, more innocent kids had been. His fingers clenched; his teeth gritted in a tortured rictus. No. Not them too.

He expected to lurch forward, to fall into a pit of something unknowable; but instead, to his shock, his face bounced off something solid. His hands groped, fumbling for purchase, but he slid off it like it was slippery; he could feel its obstruction, but he could touch nothing, see nothing. The only thing at the edge of his consciousness was an inchoate awareness, a strange and oblique sense of familiarity...

Then he remembered. And, with remembrance, came understanding; the Status window blinked into existence directly before him, mute and irrefutable.

Edict: Eschaton Capsule

Behind him, Zashe coughed; Topher belatedly realized that the king probably hadn't been as blithe about the impact as he had. "To... arms. To arms! We are assaulted!"

"We're really not. It's already over." Topher felt numb again; everything had happened so fast. Breadcrumbs for ants. Jesus Christ, he almost got us all. Not that it matters; he took out his real target. He stumbled back, tripping over Varissian again; the elf was groaning on the ground, and Topher was flat on his back before he knew what was happening. He lay there, pinned to the earth by exhaustion and despair, until he realized that the king was shaking him. "Christopher! We must act! You must tell us what transpires!"

"What the fuck do you want me to say?" he mumbled, shaking off the king's hands; robotically, he pulled himself to his knees and stared brokenly at the black sphere which filled the room. "That's an Edict. I can't affect it; nobody can. The True Demon King outsmarted us again; he knew Okano would always find a way out of any trap that could kill him. So he trapped him with the one thing he knew he'd fall for: a happy ending."

He could see it, incredibly clearly; thousands, maybe millions of years from now, after all this was over and everybody had been dead for so long that their bones were forgotten memories of dust, the sphere would open; and Okano and the others would emerge -- maybe into an unknowable future, maybe into the corpse of a dead world -- and be free. They'd be left alone, in complete peace, to live out their lives unmolested -- and it would be too late, because the True Demon Lord would already have won. He wouldn't need to kill Okano if he'd already killed everybody else.

Worse, the trap was still closing; he could see the bait right in front of him, groaning and rubbing its pointy-eared head. "Varissian," he sighed, too beaten to stand, "you're probably not going to believe this, but your day is about to get even worse."