Hey, my imaginary audience. Hope you are doing good. Me? I am fine. Peachy. Couldn't be better. Not nervous at all. Why would I be?

That dark grey cloud on the horizon? The one I am steadily flying closer to? Oh, yeah. Nothing to worry about. That's Demole. Yeah, the target of my autopilot. A bell at most and I am there.

Oh, who am I kidding? It freakin' sucks guys. Out there looks like a warzone. Because - let me venture a wild guess here - it is one. I see explosions in the distance and the surrounding countryside looks chewed up by a meteor storm.

What the heck was I thinking? I am a void-trader. This is nuts. I should be far away. Doing a bit of trading. A little research. Mundane stuff. Boring stuff. And most importantly, safe stuff. Maybe Becky had the right idea. The battlefield is no place for an adventurer. And even less for a void-trader.

Calm down Lillyn. It is not like you have to fight. Just find Maryn and hand over the Automata body. Then skedaddle as fast as you can. You can do it. Doesn't matter that you tried calling the church's Little Swan and no one answered. Don't even know where to go. But it is all okay. No need to panic.

Maybe I should go to the toilet. Again. I mean, I already was three times. One more can't hurt, right? No, focus. Here we go. There is the trade hub. Looks abandoned. No Little Mules out on the field. It appears their evacuation had been successful. This means at least Essie should be safe. Iren probably turned her ship around a long time ago. Pasus is safe far away to the north and far east.

That means only Myra and Maryn are left here. Shouldn't be too hard to find them. Right? Right? Sometimes I wish our talks wouldn't be so one-sided. I mean I get that you are my imaginary audience. You listen. Bear witness. Still, some encouraging words right now would be nice.

Okay. Nearly down. Let's talk load out. Not going for my heavy personal stuff. I mean, the tunic and skirt that can make shields are nice but slow. And freakin' heavy. No, the simple version with sustaining enchantments must be enough. Belt and two bracelets for creating shields. I also can summon shield potions on the fly. Shouldn't run out of them anytime soon. Not with over eight hundred void-favors to my name.

Damn, I wish Becky was here. Or Dera and her group. But this time I have to go into the danger zone without help. At least, it is no hardened space. Can't trigger a collapse here. I mean, I ought to do one more sometime. All good things come in threes, right?

No, Lillyn. Focus.

Can't get distracted.

Not now.

Okay. I successfully landed.

Time to sneak out.

No one is around. Good. Might be because of the ash cloud in the sky. Fueled by hundreds of fires in the town. Could be that my landing was overlooked because no one saw my Little Mule. Well, I am not sticking around until someone comes. If so, they better not scratch my paint.

The closest building is the void-trader hub. It looks surprisingly intact. Maybe the Western Empire spared it? They are intent on kidnapping void-traders after all. Good, the doors aren't locked. I was worried for a second. That would be just my luck to run into closed doors, but Besona is smiling at me. At least for now. I hope it lasts a while.

Hmm. I can't remember this hallway. Not that I have seen much of the hub. The last time I was here, I was squirreled upstairs to Iren and then out to my Little Mule. No time for sightseeing. Technically, I don't have time now either. A shame. There is a fresco lining the hallway. I think it depicts the history of the void-traders.

First, I think those are caravans. I see mules, horse-pulled carts, camels, and- Not sure what that is. Some kind of elongated mammal with four pairs of legs. All of these animals are packed with goods and wares.

Hmm, this must be the point they discovered how to trade with the void. A swirling mosaic depicts materialization left of a barrier and dematerialization on the right side of a barrier.

Halfway down the hallway. Artful carving of traders and adventurers. A little further is a void-trader shaking hands with a priest? I guess it is true. The church had been on good terms with the trader once. There is the point where Little Mules were introduced. And I am through. I remember now. This is the foyer I was ushered through on my way to Iren. That means over there is the entrance that leads to the town.

Alright. The town is in sight. And it looks worse for wear. As if someone shelled it with artillery. No, that wouldn't make sense. The head-priestess had insisted they don't have war machines like that yet. Also, the roofs look mostly fine. The destruction is down at the street level. Maybe grenades? Possibly. Or mages. I know all too well how destructive they can be.

Time to decide where to go. Well, not really. I have no idea where the church's Little Swan landed. But I know one feature of Demole. The temple I arrived at. Surely that would be where the church - and Maryn - would make their last stand. Where was it again? Damn, I wish I hadn't voided the map Myra had given me. God, that feels like an eternity ago. Not roughly one and a half months.

They really did a number on this town. It looked so nice. Like the old districts of a European city. The buildings of a century or two old, but modernized with new technologies. Demole had been picturesque once. Now I regret rushing through it. Back then I had been angry at the church. Now I am heading back to save them. Well, maybe not that. But to give them a fighting chance.

I think I remember that park from-

Shit. Soldiers!

I guess from the Western Empire. Wait, why do those olive uniforms look so familiar. Like I have seen them before. They could have been from Earth. That's for sure. Only those leather panels on their chest and tights pay tribute to the fact that they go to freaking war against sword wielders and other melee participants.

What are they doing? Are those soul-chargers? Makes sense. They store their fallen until they can be revived later. That must cost a fortune in soul-flakes. They might have about a hundred of those soul-chargers and a good chunk is filled. And beyond is-

Holy shit. It is a mountain. A mountain of soul-crystals. There must be thousands of them. Even more are arriving. Soldiers carelessly throw new ones on the pile. Those can't be all from defenders of Demole. Which means- Civilians. A lot of them. I doubt the empire will revive them. They have to helplessly watch as their town is ransacked while their own crystals run out of energy. And at the end, they expire. Not a nice way to go.

Bastards. Those goons from the Western Empire can rot in hell. If only I could do something. Maryn can. Provided she wins. Yeah, I should get a move on.

Be stealthy Lillyn. Down this alley. Good. No one here. Quiet like a cat stalking its prey. Let's turn that way. Gotta keep quiet. I am invisible and- No, not really. And I know I am rambling, okay? This is stressful. You have no idea how much. And I don't dare make a sound out loud. So, internally it is. Which means you, my dear audience.

God damn, what is that smell? Are those corpses? I am pretty sure this is the street to take to the temple. A bad sign then that it looks like it was heavily fought over. If no one remains, but corpses, does that mean the defenders or attackers won?

No soul-crystals. They probably have been gathered. Everything else is still here. Even guns. A lot of them. Should I take one or a pair? I mean I suck at fighting. Don't get me wrong. But squeezing a trigger I might do.

Alright. I'll grab- Those over there. They still look functional. Should I continue as is? If there are still defenders out there, they might mistake me for an empire loyalist or so. Better put them in my soul-inventory until I need them. Please, Besona. Please. Please. Please. Don't make me need them.

Time to move on. Ducking low and sprinting forward. Hopefully, I don't fall over the hem of my own skirt. It shouldn't be far from the temple now. I think that spire behind that building belongs to-

"Freeze!"

Darn it. Whoever shouted that got exactly what they wished for. I don't think moving would do me any good. Can't even see whoever caught me.

"Stand up and turn around slowly."

I do as told. What else is there to do? Darn it, soldiers from the Western Empire. I asked you for a favor Besona and this is what I got? Can't you - for once - be on my side?

"Damn, boys. What a prime catch. Let me guess. You worked at the local brothel. Couldn't wait for the victors to visit you so you came out?"

"I'm not-" Shit! Think, Lillyn. Think. Can't tell them I am from a brothel to throw them off track. Who knows what they would do to me. Can't say I am a civilian either. I've seen what they do to bystanders. They'll throw my soul-crystal to the rest on the pile in the park. I guess there is no other choice. "I am a void-trader."

"A void-trader? You?" That stupid asshole and his gang of thugs are laughing in my face. Asshole. "I don't think so."

"You think just about anyone could afford as much honeyfirn as I have?" Cupping my assets to emphasize my point. Yes, I hate to do so. But what else do you want me to do here? "Listen. I just partied hard a little. Lost track of time with the help of some substances. Didn't know there would be a full-blown invasion going on while I was out. Can't you let me slip out? I'll give you good deals later. Promise."

"You really are a void-trader?" Head goon asks. Scratching the stubble of his crew cut under his helmet. I guess militaries are all the same no matter from what world. Or- Right. Supervillain Bradford is from the military on Earth. Guess he dragged a few habits to this new world.

"Pretty much all my life here on Besona." Hey, not even a lie.

"Oh, pretty. You are really breaking our hearts here, babe. We wanted to have some fun." For a moment, I am relieved. Dud is turning around. But then motions for his subordinates. "Grab her. All persons of interest - that includes void-traders - are to be taken to the theater. Orders by lord commander Bradford personally."

The troop is mewling their displeasure. Lucky them, for I dare not to voice mine. This is not going according to plan. None of this. If the empire is sweeping up, I am probably too late. Has Maryn already lost? Revealing myself as a void-trader was a risk. Yeah, I didn't think they would let me go. But I suspect they had orders like these. Live to fight another day, right?

"Cheer up, men. There is a bounty for every trader bring in alive."

---

So much for reaching the temple for a simple little delivery job. Should have known it all turns to shit. Now I am herded to the theater. On any other day, I might have appreciated the building. Sort of like an amphitheater, but with intricate girders that act as roof and hold up canvases.

The room is lit with hundreds of torches. Giving it an oddly medieval feel. Strange, as I can see normal lamps placed throughout. About half of the seating is already filled. Civilians in all kinds of colorful garb. The stairs and stage are lined with more military goons.

Wait.

There.

In the front row. I know those robes. It's the church. Where is Myra? Come on. Where are you hiding? Please be there. Not on a pile outside. Show yourself, Myra.

Is that-

Blue hair poking out of a hood. Yes, she is alright. As far as one can count being taken hostage by an egomaniac and his army. I need to get to her. Maybe she knows where Maryn is. If she isn't dead already. Still, if I can get my hand on her soul-crystal, things could turn out alright.

"Not down there, doll," my captor says before shoving me into one of the upper rows. Taking a seat beside me. "Believe me, you don't wanna be down there."

If my glare of death and utter loathing perturbs him, then he doesn't let it show. Yeah. I know. I am not the most imposing person. What can I do now? I have automatic pistols in my soul-inventory. Not that they could do me any good there. There have to be over a hundred soldiers in the theater.

Some ass down there blows in a god-damn trumpet. Asshole. It was so sudden it made me twitch.

"Stand for our glorious leader! Lord Commander James Bradford."

I have no choice as the jerk beside me pulls me up with him. Below me, a few of the civilians do the same. But many remain seated. All from the church too.

"I said stand up!" Oh, no. He wouldn't. The man has pulled his gun out and- He's firing. Into the crowd. Just blindly in. How sick can someone be?

Some of the soldiers now go through the ranks of terrified spectators. Now and then tossing something to the middle. Soul-crystals. They all land on or around a small pile of other soul-crystals. As messages go, this one is loud and clear. Though all I can get out of it is that the Western Empire is a bunch of assholes.

"See?" a smarmy voice from my right reminds me of my captor. "Aren't you glad you don't sit down there?"

"Better!" the man down on the stage shouts while reloading his gun. "Now, behold! The lord commander!"

What the fuck is that abomination? That dude is nearly two and a half meters tall. Brimming with muscles any bodybuilder would be jealous of. Dressed in an olive green dress uniform with way too many medals and ribbons on. Somehow the head doesn't quite fit. He looks handsome. Even to me and I am not into dudes. And somehow he even makes the buzz-cut working for him. Black hair and salt and pepper beard stubble. And through it shines the youth of a twenty-something.

But if that is Bradford, he must be close to seventy or eighty. The bulk, youth, and sheer physical charisma. It can only mean one thing. Lots and lots of soul-flakes were spent at a soul-guide. How else can this be explained?

Shouts fill the room. All the soldiers are voicing their enthusiasm. Most of all, the dick beside me. As if he wants to deafen me with his shouts. They rattle their weapons too. At least those few that don't carry pistols and holding swords or spears instead.

"Soldiers! Brothers in arms! We are victorious!" Just a few words by Bradford and the crowd goes wild. Well, his Western Empire goons. Me, personally, I wanna gag. I doubt I am the only one.

"Demole is ours and with it, our church returns to its rightful home!" Just to underline his words, Bradford is pointing to- Are those priests in a camouflage pattern? What? That doesn't even make sense. How nuts is this? I feel like I slipped, hit my head, and woke up in a cheesy B-movie of the eighties. I mean, come on. I can't even blame Besona. It's all the dictator parading around on the theater stage. Puffing up his chest as if the world belonged to him.

"The heretics are defeated!" He is pointing at the priests and priestesses in the first row. No surprise there.

"But there is one last detail to attend to. The last feeble attempt of the heretics to stop us. Their champion. A so-called hero."

There is Maryn. She looks bloodied. Tired too. Bound in ropes and iron. Dragged onto the stage like a caught animal. But she doesn't look beaten. I can see the fury in her eyes. Even from up here. If I can get to her and-

"Sit back down!" I hear from beside me as I get yanked down again. My subconscious act of standing up rudely interrupted. "The heretics' champion is not worthy of praise or honor."

Damn. I need to get to her, but there is no way. Not just the rude asshole beside me, but dozens of soldiers line the path down. I'll never make it down there.

"Set her free!" Bradford commands. Loud enough that his voice is booming even on the upper ranks. "Give her health potions and her gear."

What is he up to? The soldiers are obeying at least. Freeing Maryn. Yeah, she looks conflicted. Hesitant too. This has got to be a trap. Then again, Bradford could have executed her on the spot. Why didn't he? Maryn looks cautious. Still downs the health potions. I can understand her reasoning. Whatever Bradford has planned, it probably wouldn't involve poisoned potions. Her gear looks alright too. Damn, for all my talk, I didn't provide a single piece of enhanced gear to Maryn. Not even something from my older research. Shit. Should have given her what I had when I had the chance. Now, it might be too late.

"Let's see how well she fares against me!" Bradford shouts. Then points to a banner carrier. No, wait, that is no banner. Those are soul-chargers on a pole. There are already three soul-crystals on it and space for one more. "Or will she end up like the champions before her?"

Wait. Those are the heroes summoned before her? But they have been summoned with roughly a decade between each of them. Does that mean they have spent all the time on that pole? Reduced to a state of seeing and hearing, but utter helplessness. For decades? They are even denied the true death. What a maniac. This isn't humane. If he is capable of such cruelty, what else has he done?

Woah. Maryn lost not a single moment. As soon as she had her sword in hand, she cut down the soldiers framing her in one strike and lunged for Bradford with the next. Cutting whatever theatrics Bradford had in mind before their duel short.

But she missed. Somehow Bradford still managed to evade. Despite the surprise on the side of Maryn. Or the bulk of flesh he has to move. Dancing away from Maryn and evading each strike. Laughing like a maniac. Maryn is good. That much I can tell. That Bradford can dodge like that- His stats must be high. Like way up there. Myra said stats for heroes usually start at sixteen and reach up to twenty. But that was before Bradford had spent decades on Besona. How high is he now? Above twenty? Probably. That is not a good sign for Maryn.

Maryn is swinging her buster sword like crazy. That thing must weigh a ton as wide as the edge is. Maybe a slimmer blade would have been better for her. Maybe there are enchantments on it that require the bulk and material? I certainly hope so. Still, Bradford manages to escape time and time again. Sidestepping, ducking, or even freakin' jumping over Maryn's blade.

He is playing with her. I have no doubts about it. Maryn probably neither. But what can she do? Yes. She is falling back. Reevaluating. Catching her breath.

"A nice warm-up round, right?" Bradford gives her a nasty grin.

For a moment, his arms blur. Shots ring out throughout the theater. He is dual-wielding pistols. Where did they come from? He couldn't have summoned them from inventory. That takes longer. A hidden holster?

Thankfully, Maryn had turned her sword to the side just in time. Now I see why the blade is so thick. The side profile makes for a nice shield. Every shot ricocheting away.

Asshole can't even use Besonian weaponry. Has to cheat by using pistols.

Now Maryn is on the move again. She has no choice. Bradford is on the offense. Every time Maryn settles in a defensive position, he tries to sidestep her sword. Giving off single calculated shots.

There. Maryn stumbles but catches herself. I can see her wince from up here. Is that blood on the ground? Bradford scored a hit. Maryn is recovering quickly. Stepping back. Swinging around. More blood. Another hit by Bradford.

A slight stumble is all it takes. Bradford is using it for two quick shots. Maryn's blade tumbling to the ground. Just a second later, Bradford has a gun trained against Maryn's temple.

"I expected more," Bradford gloats. "And now the heretics' champion falls."

Maryn's hateful glare abruptly cuts off as a single shot rings out. No matter how many health points one got on Besona, it looks like getting their brain blown out is instant death.

Now what? With Maryn dead, what hope is there? What am I supposed to do now?

Meanwhile, Maryn's soul-crystal emerges. Only to be picked up by Bradford. "Not much of a trophy, but I guess that completes the set. Put her to the others." And with that, he throws the soul-crystal to the bearer who parades the soul-crystals of previous Earthern heroes around.

This makes me angry. The hubris. The sheer disregard for an enemy. The complete lack of honor. I barely knew Bradford before, yet I already want to strangle him with my own hands.

"Now you see," the herald of before proclaims as he steps onto the stage. "The champion has fallen. You placed all your hopes and dreams in the smoke and mirrors of heretics. But the lord commander is merciful. Repent and reject your false ideology and you will be spared. Bring forth the first sinner."

While Bradford takes a seat in what I only can describe as a throne, two soldiers drag forth a victim. I know her. It's the head priestess of the church.

"Do you repent?"

The head priestess spits at the herald and then turns to glare at Bradford. "Never. Your so-called lord commander is cancer that eats at Besona and-"

A single shot from behind and she falls. I never liked her. Probably because we got off on the wrong foot. Now, I understand her more. Still, she could have been nicer. But despite all that, she didn't deserve the end she now got. Her emerging soul-crystal carelessly tossed onto the pile of other rejects.

"Next!"

The next priestess is dragged forward. I think I know where this is going. Shit! Myra. Just a few more and it will be her turn. How will she react? Will she bow before them and live or stand firm and die?

I know one thing: I don't want to find out.

"I challenge you to a-"

I don't come further in my declaration as I am being yanked back down. Damn, I have enough of that asshole beside me. A pompous ass with the same overinflated ego as the dictator they worship. Time to end this. It only takes a few seconds. To materialize one of the two guns from my soul-inventory. Behind my back, of course, so mister shit-for-brains won't see it coming.

My stats might be shit compared to others, but even I can't miss on this distance. The dude has barely time to widen his eyes in shocked recognition when I blow his freaking brains out.

If my half-finished shout didn't draw everyone's gaze, then the shot that echoed through the hall has done the trick. Now, before anyone of those peons of soldiers can do something stupid, I have to act.

"I. Said. I challenge you to a duel."

Apparently, me staring Bradford down lacks a bit of intimidation. But has that dude to laugh? Urg, hate that guy.

"Ah, yes. The decoy sister." More laughter. This time picked up by the soldiers around me. "And why should I humor a little void-trader like you? I admit the church and you had some of my subordinates fooled by your deception. Not me. I saw right through it."

"Did you?" Now it is time to bluff the shit out of this. "Your overconfidence led you to believe something fundamentally wrong. Maryn isn't the only one from Earth. I arrived before her. Why summon one hero from Earth when you can go for two."

More laughter. Can't that asshole take anything seriously?

"I did not see that coming. Bravo. So, not a void-trader I take it?"

"Oh, I am a void-trader, alright." Time to get down there. Not to my right. Don't wanna crawl over dead dude. Might even slip and fall. No can do. To the left it is. Down the stairs. But I got to keep Bradford off balance. Time for a sick burn. I hope. "As a void-trader I got pretty good at sending trash to the void. And that's all that you are to me. Trash."

No applause? Wasn't my burn that sick? No, must be the audience. Not you, the imaginary, but the real one here. I doubt the soldiers are rooting for me and the gathered civilians look too cowed to act on it. A shame.

"Brave words." Bradford is giving me an insincere smile that I want to wipe off his face. "But you all still just a trader. What can you do?"

"I guess you have to accept to find out," as I step off the stairs. Making for the stage that only Bradford and his loud-mouth goon occupy. Maryn's and the priestess's body already dragged out by soldiers. Only their spilled blood remains. This makes me so angry. Luckily for me, I am about to act on my anger.

"You know what? Fine." Bradford gives me a shrug and turns to his audience as if he told a joke. He doesn't get it yet. But soon he will. Jokes on him. But first, I guess he has to finish his monologue.

"I mean, you surprised me once. Maybe you do it twice and give me an actual challenge. Take you best-"

A shot rings out. Mine. Yeah, don't know about you, but I got tired of his pompous speech real quick. Figured a quick shot might be worth it. Right between the eyes. Except, I missed. Damn, that bastard is fast.

Time to summon my second pistol and do some damage. What do you reckon? Bullet storm from afar? I doubt that will work. He'll just evade again and I will run out of bullets sooner than later. No, I have to get close. Get him in a position he can't escape.

I might be able to do so. His ego is too big for his own good. Bradford hasn't even lifted his own guns up. He will be playing with me. Just like with Maryn. That will be his downfall. The hubris of his. All I need is to get close.

I take a shot with my right gun. Bradford evades left. As I expected him too. With my left, I already aimed ahead. Leading my next shot. Which misses. Of course. For being a mountain of a man, Bradford is surprisingly nimble. Was the quick exchange for nothing? Nope. I got three steps closer.

"Ah, not bad."

Three more shots. Left first. I thought he would evade right. Didn't. One bullet wasted. And my quickly send after shot to the left missed too. Still, four steps closer.

"Good thinking. But I am too quick for that."

Oh, shut up dude. I am trying to kill you here. Need him back to the wall. Not left. I shot again. Left gun. Right gun. Repeat. Aiming at purpose slightly to the left. He evades right and has to keep going as I send shot after shot. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

"That won't help you."

Didn't it? I got him in the center of the stage. Also got five steps closer.

More shots. He dances back. Pirouetting. As if this was a dance. Maybe it is to him.

"There is potential, I admit."

He tries to break out to the left. I cut him off with two quick shots.

Two steps closer.

"But there is something-"

Breakout to the right. Averted by three more shots.

Another two steps.

"That I teach my soldiers early on."

It takes more shots to stifle his next attempt. Which is fine. I am closer.

In fact, I am right before him. My right gun only a handspan away from his face. Time to end this.

"To count bullets, my dear."

I pull the trigger and know what to expect. Yet, there is only empty clicking. He is right. I am out of ammo. But I have two guns.

As I bring my second gun to bear on him, the pit in my stomach deepens. I pull. It clicks.

"This has been fun."

Bradfords arm shots up. Grabbing me by the throat and lifting me up.

"But as amusing as it had been, it is time to end this."

"Lillyn!" The shout makes me look to the side. Myra has stood up. Trying to push towards me, but she is held back by her fellow sisters of the cloth.
"Don't worry." I give her the best reassuring smile I can manage. "It is impossible for me to lose."

Then I hear bones breaking.

A sharp pain in my neck.

And this is how I died. Again.