Chương 74: 73- City of Mysteries

The Losers rose from the pavement—they had materialized in a deserted street that looked like a housing district in the hours before dawn. The sprawling metropolis surrounding them reached as far as the eye could see.

"Not what I was expecting," said Jenna.

"I thought the passage would lead to some military base. The Lamplight was supposed to be the last line of defense against invasions from the world we came from. The rift should have led us to a protected location." Her enhanced mind considered twenty-three possible explanations, discarding the nineteen least probable ones in four seconds. Of the remaining four, one could be easily checked.

"Bob, please use your Waycraft powers to check if there is something wrong with dimensional magic in the zone," she told him.

"You are right, Jenna," he confirmed ten seconds later.

"There is a diffusion effect, much like the one you use for Dissonance, except it affects dimensional magic. Any teleportation or dimensional effect cast inside this city transports you to a random zone inside the area protected by the dimensional veil. It is the same effect that teleported us to random locations when we entered the Lamplight's home reality."

"But why have we three ended up in the same spot this time?" asked Billy.

"Because this time we were in physical contact as we jumped," answered Bob.

"They have also changed their game," Jenna muttered.

"How so?" asked a worried Billy.

"Until now, they have been using military tactics: sieges, invasions…" Jenna said as she studied the city's layout.

"Now, it seems like they are trying to avoid direct confrontation. If the veil has hidden our arrival, it will do the same for our foes. We will not see them coming."

"Assassins," concluded Bob.

"They are using assassins this time."

"It makes no sense, Jenna. We won't see them coming, but neither will they," said Billy.

"They have a huge advantage over us for this type of game, Billy—they know where we are heading," Jenna said, pointing at a familiar structure presiding over the highest vantage point in the city: the Black Tower.

"Seems the Black Tower's location was common knowledge in this Aeon," Bob mused.

"It's more complicated than that, Bob," Jenna answered.

"The whole city has been built around it. It has become a cultural or religious icon."

"That won't make our task any easier," Billy said.

"On the plus side, there is an active System—I am getting AP passively. We can use that to our advantage. And so can they, I guess." With the coming of dawn, some of the shops and inns around the city began to open their doors. The owners dressed in a way vaguely reminiscent of the Renaissance, with ornate clothes in bright colors. They had primitive electric power, but no vehicles. Jenna enhanced her hearing, trying to get a feel for the language. She learned it in twelve minutes.

"Let's get inside that inn and have some breakfast," she told them.

"We should avoid the streets and draw as little attention as we can. We must assume someone will be looking for us."

"As you both currently have shapeshifting powers, you should change your faces so that you will not be easily recognized." Jenna waited for the next few seconds as both Bob and Billy's visages transformed into new faces. Bob's face changed as if it were being viewed through one of those smartphone apps. Billy's transformation was more traumatic, as his face became distinctly insectoid before settling back into a human face. Yuck. She hated spiders. The inn was small and crowded.

Many workers came for breakfast before starting their shifts. The owner, Irina, a stocky woman in her forties, led them to an empty table before taking their orders. She did not seem surprised that neither Bob nor Billy knew her language.

"You are coming for the Chronalia festival, aren't you? We get a lot of tourists each time. It's a pity it's not every year. The inn could certainly do with the extra income." She brought them some pastries and a jar filled with something that looked like chocolate but had an herbal scent. She extended her hand, expecting to be paid. Damn. They had no local money. Things like this did not happen in the original Pantea saga.

"Do not worry, Jenna, this is on me," Bob said, fishing a few coins out of his purse and letting Irina keep the change.

"Got that idea from Bilto," he explained.

"It is a Bartering perk that transmutes currencies, keeping their value."

"Should we get a room, Jenna?" Billy asked.

"If this festival is going on, the place will fill up soon."

"Not a good idea, Billy. Inns are the first place they will look for us. We must stay on the move and…damn it!" she swore.

"What is the matter?" Bob asked worriedly.

"I have been hiding us under my Spirit since we hit this city. I know I would use Spirit Expansion to try to locate us if I were in their position. I just felt someone's spirit brush against mine ten seconds ago."

"Did it get a hold of us?" asked Billy.

"No. But it was powerful. At least as powerful as mine. These are no conventional assassins." Jenna tried to eavesdrop on the conversations around her as they had breakfast. … they say he will try to prevent his father, the late king, from breaking his neck in that hunting accident… … two defirs for honey and bread. I tell you, Irina is shameless. She is charging twice what she charged before the festival began… … I don't get it. Time is sacred. History is sacred.

Except once every seven years, and only for the Royal Family. Crap, I tell you… The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. She pieced together all the snippets of information in her mind, looking at the whole picture.

"It seems these people know the properties of the Black Tower, and have made it their mission to protect it so that no one can mess with time. In return, once every seven years, the king is granted the opportunity to change one small thing about the past."

"Bullshit," said Billy, around a mouthful of breakfast.

"Time dungeons do not work that way. They make no exceptions for anyone."

"It is probably something they made up to add legitimacy to their dynasty," Bob agreed.

"It both reinforces the importance of not going into the dungeon and gives prestige to the royals as the only ones capable of ignoring the rule."

"You are both probably right, but the problem remains the same: the tower is heavily guarded, and assassins are expecting us to approach it," Jenna said. She bit her lip, thinking about the problem.

"The festival seems like a good opportunity to enter the tower: the Prince will descend into it in three days, accompanied by his honor guard," Jenna mused.

"Too convenient. Smells like a trap. We should probably take this slowly: do some recon, get a feel for the opposition…that kind of thing."

"Won't they start hunting us if we do not hurry?" asked Billy.

"That is a given," she sighed.

"I can't think of another approach, though." They spent the rest of the morning getting the lay of the city. It was built around seven concentric rings, with the Black Tower at the center. Usually, only the four outer rings were open to the public, but on the occasion of the festival, all the restrictions had been waived. Chronalia was supposed to be a religious festival, but the mood was festive, reminiscent of a carnival. Most revelers were masked and wore animal-themed disguises.

Chronalia had weird little rituals, many of them based on time travel: some revelers would walk backward, as if they were the protagonists of a video being rewound. People who knew each other would pretend they did not, and perfect strangers would hug like brothers—during Chronalia, the past and the future were just excuses to get drunk. Jenna quickly bought herself a horse-themed mask, which brought back memories of her time in the Secret Mountain.

Billy and Bob did not get a disguise: they were wearing faces not their own, which would throw a pursuer off the trail better than any mask would. The closer they got to the center, the more crowded the streets became.

"I don't like it," said Jenna.

"We will never see an attack coming in this crowd." Suddenly, the crowd parted with a scream of horror. A woman was weeping hysterically—she had just found the beheaded corpse of a man leaning against a wall.

"Another one?" someone said at Jenna's side.

"It is the third one this morning. This has never happened before." Jenna noticed something on the floor, a small object no one had paid attention to, lying near the corpse. She grabbed it, taking advantage of the fact that everyone was focused on the body.

"They have gone into action," Jenna whispered to Bob and Billy.

"We must find a hiding place as soon as possible. They are killing each other. Trying to thin out the competition, I guess. We must get off the street as soon as possible—these people are good."

"How do you know that, Jenna? What was that thing you just picked?"

"I will explain later, Bob. Please, do as I say. We are not safe here." They hurried into a side street, out of sight. ◇ The Collector carefully placed the aiming reticle on Bob's head. He had been tailing the three Losers since he encountered them by chance an hour ago. He had come as the Sniper, one of his favorite forms. The Sniper had sown Chaos in Babylon, so long ago, taking out dozens of high-priority targets before being killed.

He had slain him and taken his form, using it to end the lives of many of Babylon's enemies. He had made a habit of leveling it far beyond the normal rank recommended for that form. That had caused an irreparable rift between him and his fiancée. Can't you see what it is doing to you? You use it every day. You enjoy killing with it! Her words still sounded in his memory. No, honey. I do not enjoy killing with it. I enjoy hunting with it. There was a difference there, one she would never understand.

There was a moment before he pulled the trigger. A perfect moment. Total control. He did not feel like an assassin with an Essence gun, but like an instrument of fate. And here he was. The perfect hunt against an enemy of the universe. He wondered whom he would shoot first. Not the Everlasting, certainly. That would only serve to warn the other two. He knew he should pick Jenna, but somehow he could not force himself to do it. Bob would do. The reticle finally settled between Bob's eyes.

"Goodbye, Bobby. You should have given that bloody artifact back. Guess we were a bad influence," he muttered. Suddenly, the scope went black. The Collector looked up from his gun. Someone had placed herself just in front of the gun. How had she gotten here without him noticing her? He was level 93, for goodness' sake. It was a small woman, dressed in some sort of martial arts outfit, a black veil covering her face.

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but you have just made the greatest mistake of your life," the Collector said. The woman removed her veil.

"You!" the Collector gasped.

"Me," the woman answered with a smile. Then she struck him viciously in a vital spot with the tip of one finger. The Collector fell to the ground, trying to scream. Whatever she had done, he could no longer control his lungs.

"You should have picked Jenna," she said.

"Bobs are mine. All of them."

"Listen to this koan before you go into the Blue Room," the Widow whispered as the Collector thrashed on the ground.

"I made it just for this occasion." The bird is born at dawn By night, he sings no more He knows the name behind names The name, whose name is… Darkness took the Collector before he could hear the rest of the poem, only to be swiftly replaced by the light of the Blue Room. He rose, unharmed. That bitch! She was going to pay for this, and he had just the right shape to take care of her. She was standing on the other side of reality, looking right at him, as if she could see him. Well, he knew she couldn't.

He could see her, even listen to her, but he was like a ghost to her. Who was she trying to fool? The Widow completed the last verse, ending the koan. A koan she had designed to throw the Collector's mind into a never-ending thought loop. A mind she knew well. The Collector gasped as he suddenly understood the poem. Of course, it was so obvious. The Name behind the Names… it was on the tip of his tongue. He just had to think about it, and he would remember it.

The Widow left, leaving the Collector trapped forever inside the Blue Room, searching his memory for a name that would never come. ◇ The Losers finally sat down for a rest in a building Jenna had declared to be safe. It was some kind of storage hut belonging to a construction company, which was not being used during the festival.

"Okay, Jenna, out with it," Bob asked.

"What did you take?" Jenna showed him a metal sphere the size of a snooker ball: a Palooga ball. It was marked with a rune. It was one of thirty-five the Amazons had given Bob as gifts. The Skillmaster recognized it.

"It is impossible; it is Alarel's ball." He summoned an exact copy of the ball in his right hand.

"But I still have it."

"Now we know where the Keeper is recruiting his assassins: possible future versions of ourselves," she explained.

"The beheaded man was you, Bob." No one said anything for a few moments, trying to digest the news.

"How do you know they are from future timelines, Jenna?" Billy finally asked.

"Because the Keeper will not send assassins with the same powers we have, Billy—he will send killers who can do things we can't."

"We already defeated the Calendarians," Billy said firmly.

"Billy, the Calendarians were Essence clones, with copies of our powers. These foes have abilities we lack. I don't know how we are going to pull this one off," Jenna answered him.

"We will cheat, of course," Billy said, smiling and trying to dispel the gloomy mood.

"Yes," Jenna assented.

"So will they."