Mortar’s eyes opened with a start. His face throbbed in pain, but nothing was broken. At least the world stopped spinning more than it was supposed to. He got up upon realizing that he was back outside the demolished office. However, the door had been replaced with a barricade of lead and metal. The door had been good against a small bomb, but the new structure could hold against a blast that would take out the area of the whole base.

“Max,” he yelled at the speaker above him. “Max, open the hell up right now!”

“I can’t do that,” said Max. “I can’t let you be the one to sacrifice yourself to save the world. You’ve done that enough times. You will probably do it again.”

“I have every right. You don’t even know what to do. We don’t have much time before the reactor blows.”

“And these walls and doors won’t be enough against a nuke or greater, I know. While you were unconscious I used a spell to glimpse through your mind. I plan to use this device of yours to absorb everything. It's just a simple opening spell, and everyone will be saved. Please, Mortar, let me do this.”

“You don’t understand. This is my right. Mine!”

“No, sir. Being a survivor in that nameless war doesn’t give you the right to strip the world of who or what you are. Yes, I saw that too, glimpses of it. You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who needs to redeem himself.”

“Max, please, just open up. You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.”

“Think of your cousin.”

“I am. Maybe now, I can face him where I’m going. Maybe now he can forgive me for what happened to him. Goodbye, Mortar.”

The microphone whined.

Max walked into the room with the reactor. It was lambent and rumbling, and only getting worse. He whispered a few words, and the box in his hands clicked. The device opened.

One last tear rolled down his cheeks.

On the other side of the barricade, Mortar pounded on the metal door. It didn’t matter if doing so was a lost cause. If the device had been activated, and Mortar opened the door, then radiating and highly potent magic would seep in and out of the doorway, each wave of energy more violent than the last, until more than half of the base was destroyed. And many lives along with it. The device would have succeeded, but only after so much destruction. Damn it all, Mortar should have been the one in there.

He heard the barricade being pushed and pulled upon from within. The microphone squealed one last time before it sparked and smoked. It fell next to Mortar while the rhythmic throbbing of the door continued. The lead and metal and concrete surrounding Mortar bent or cracked.

Then it stopped. Mortar Mage rested a hand against the tweaked door.

Adamast jumped and punched at the monster. It was at least twice her armored height, but she managed to get her fist into its forehead. However, the one hit wasn’t enough force, she realized as she entrusted herself to gravity’s limited mercy. She was mere inches from the ground when the monster backhanded her, batting her form away from the fight.

The mages and War Lagoon threw a number of ranged attacks at the monster. What little damage they were dealing healed with the aid of the glyph’s light.

Psi Wizard sent some recovery energy to Adamast. He spotted his wife wailing on the monster from behind, but it continued to ignore her. She was impervious to a lot of attacks, but her own flurry of punches and kicks were that of a typical human being. A strong one, yes, but still only typical. Psi Wizard shook his head. His psychic powers meant nothing against their foe.

More helicopters flew above the base now. Most of them belonged to news stations, and one to the police. One camera caught Ohm Wire running along a rooftop toward the action.

Ohm Wire used the rooftop to get on top of the monster and deal as much damage as she could with her claws. She emitted an electric aura potent enough to zap or burn anyone who touched her. Ohm Wire hoped it was working against the monster while she slashed away with her claws.

It was not enough. Nothing was. The Abomination of Tribunals roared, and sent out a shockwave full of wind, flames, and ice, which knocked everyone away who was within range. That was a mere ounce of its power. A morning stretch after a long slumber compared to what he could do.

The monster would level everything in a three mile radius once enough power filtered through the glyph that had trapped him for so long. Now that he shrugged everyone off and stopped the need to heal, the monster started to gather energy.

Yes, he knew Paragon City. He had once come to pass judgment on it before someone else locked him away in eternal sleep. He’d known what the city would become when it was barely a settlement of colonists. This was the only way. His explosive entry into the world was only the beginning.

The ground jolted. The glyph fizzled out with a loud crack. Pavement fell, outlining the glyph’s shape.

The monster was cut off from the majority of his power.

Adamast laughed through a cough. “Alright!” she said, “It looks like your number is up, asshole. Chopping block time!”

She ran in, and punched the Abomination of Tribunals with as much fury as she could muster. A freshly healed Ohm Wire—there were only some scrapes and bruises that Psi Wizard had tended to—joined in on the assault.

War Lagoon conjured the black mist around the monster’s face. Dark tentacles broke through the ground beneath the monster as well to attempt to restrain or thrash against the beast.

Now that Psi Wizard was able to feel the monster’s mind, he concentrated on it. It was like grabbing for a fish inside of a murky pond. He didn't want to know what opening a mindscape would have done. But, anything he could do to keep that mind busy bought everyone some time until the monster retaliated with more than just swats and kicks that could shatter bones.

He heard more fighting. Mortar tired of fighting. He climbed up the stairs past a number of bodies like the possessed technicians he had taken down earlier. Mortar Mage opened the door to find the others fighting something that was clearly not human.

Blue fire engulfed the hand at his side while the other simply let go of the door.

The others were forced back by a shockwave of magical energy. It was raw arcane energy. The kind used by pure killers without qualms over their actions. But, it did not matter.

Mortar raised his enflamed hand, and shot off attack after attack with the intense heat. Every shot hit the monster in front of him, creating dents and holes upon impact, but they healed as fast as Mortar could hurt it. Using any more power than this would have been too dangerous for everyone here. Himself included.

But he kept going. Mortar walked closer while firing off the blue flames, and he said, “This stops. Right now. Nobody else dies. You go back to wherever you came from!”

The Abomination of Tribunals recognized the threat to his judgment over the city. He charged at the man shooting fire at him, and reached for him.

The two were about to clash. Everyone watched in horror.

Mortar slapped the ground, and muttered an incantation. The monster’s own shadow glistened before his feet sank into the ground as if it were a shallow pool of oil. The monster took swipes at Mortar, but nothing hit; Mortar was mere inches out of range.

“I told you to go back,” he said to the monster. “You should have listened.” Mortar then sat down with his legs crossed. “Everyone, listen. I need you to get to safety so I can burn this thing’s entire body in one fell swoop. I’ll be fine, if a little scarred all over, but you all have to act right now. Ugh—?!”

Something hit the back of his head with a loud clang. When Mortar fell forward, the two remaining mages stood behind him with solemn expressions on their faces. Genine was levitating a pole from the fence on top of the stronghold’s walls.

“We can’t let you do that,” said Sean.

Mortar groaned in pain. He was still conscious, albeit barely. He turned toward the two mages in time to see Genine raise the fence pole. She took a swing with it.

It was well past seven in the morning local time, and footage from the news helicopters hit every television screen in Paragon that aired the news. More than that, it reached several televisions around the world since recent events had made the city world-news-worthy for the second time in many years, the first being only days ago.

That was bound to happen when a city was so renowned for its heroic or villainous activity that the same report over and over again just got bored. Mages on the loose? Aliens from outer space invading? Some millionaire stealing cakes from orphans? Most of the world looked away.

In central Europe, a tailor-suited man in a bowler hat stopped by one such screen. He knew a few of those heroes on the screen. The news was clearly confused as to what was going on. The station tried all too quickly to speculate on the involvement of Cinder Snow or Amethyst Star, but the suited man knew otherwise. He knew these heroes' deeds and what they faced.

Never play chess with an invisible opponent, he recalled, for they are likely to bare their teeth and cheat. Now those heroes needed help. Now he could no longer play his game from afar. It was time to go home and fix things finally.

The nonsensical speculations continued, each more absurd than the last—though somehow getting closer to the truth—but the man did not continue to stare. He had a home to return to. An emissary to disappoint. A plane ticket to change for another.

The pole pierced the monster’s hand. Then more poles from the barbed fence joined until there was enough metal to bind both hands to the ground.

Mortar had to admit that he was impressed, even if his head throbbed.

“What are you doing?” Mortar asked. “That won’t hold him for long.”

Genine said, “It’ll take too long for you to gather the magic you need to obliterate this thing. The two of us have been gathering it for the last few minutes for an attack of our own.”

Sean shouted out, “War Lagoon, do you think you can grab your friend from there and go?”

“No,” said Mortar, “You’re not doing this. It’s too dangerous.” A black circle appeared in front of him, and a hand pulled him through. Travel this way was nauseating. “No, damn it.”

Adamast said, “What are they doing?”

“They’re about to attempt what I was going to do. It’ll be too much for them.”

“They’re as strong as you are, I think.”

“Maybe, but they're not as skilled at preventing backlash, or haven’t you noticed every time they cast a powerful spell?”

“What?”

“There’s a reason some of us can use magic without burning up our bodies. It takes training that they never received in their time in the Circle, because the Circle doesn’t teach it. They rely on demon possessions or transformations. Most demons were born from it. A spell on this level would scar even me if I had all day to prepare. Imagine what it will do to them!” Damn, his head hurt too much to risk any action right now.

“No.” Adamast shouted toward the mages. “Sean! Genine!”

The other heroes grabbed Adamast and Mortar, saying they needed to go. The auras around the two mages could be seen halfway across the city if it weren’t for the tall walls around them. The heroes fled the stronghold while the mages grabbed the struggling monster’s hands. Princess Undercut grabbed Adamast and teleported away despite Adamast's kicking and screaming. Adamast attempted to grow her ice armor again when they popped from one place to the next.

Sean and Genine nodded to one another. They already knew what had happened to Max, though not how, and they felt what was coming already.

“Thank you, Mistress,” Genine said, trying not to sob. “Serving you was the best death sentence a person could ask for.”

Captain Bates watched through binoculars as his base exploded. The blast jumped at the sky before the walls broke down along with his visage.

He smiled. His time with the Vambracemen was over, but things were finally in motion. He finally knew the identity of the other man pulling strings from far away. Captain Bates, or rather his true self, had work to do to ensure his own victory before the other player could move the next piece.

One gambit led to another. The reactor was cut from the equation, the Abomination of Tribunals was removed like a hot-headed rook that got ahead of itself, and the succubus was once again free, soon to be whole.

She was free of his grasp, yes, but also free to fall into his next trap when the time came.

The former Vambraceman captain turned and walked to the other edge of the Faultline rooftop, where he vanished. The air around him became bloated as he did so, but it returned to normal in seconds. The building that had no chance of holding his weight remained still and undisturbed as if he was never there.