Wrecking their way back to Murkspire – hadn’t been as glamorous as Ren thought it would be. He was covered in grass stains, except for sandals and hair, whatever magic was coursing through them – left them spotless as always. Still, that wasn’t much help with the more pressing issue; these things could reason.

  They had gone down easily enough – at first, cores centered in their chests, but now…Ren looked at the shambler before him, a block of Swiss cheese, gaping holes rapidly closing across its torso. “I can’t find the core!”

  Meen-Tra struggled to keep up as she emerged from the nearby bushes, juggling a half dozen cores in her arms, “Their amalgamations, they can put the thing wherever they want!”

  Ren turned to look at her, eyebrow raised, “Why are you yelling at me?”

  Meen-Tra took a step forward, eyes narrowed, “I’m not yelling at you – you’re yelling at me!”

  Ren stood arms akimbo, “See right there, you just yelled at me. I was only yelling at you because you're taking so long to catch up – I didn’t know if you’d heard me or not.”

  A core dropped out of her arms, sticking into the muck. Meen-Tra sighed, “I’m not leaving these behind – If you knew how valuable they were. Do you know how many sandals I can make with these? Epic – sandals or better, might I add.”

  Ren turned to face the monster, muttering about women and shoes under his breath – while he marveled at his own slides, “Like a second skin, stylish and comfortable – I wonder if there’s a way to choose the colour? I mean, this toxic greens chill, but not really my vibe…”

  A hissing rattle drew Ren’s attention from flip-flop inspection, and he rolled his neck with a sigh before zooming around the shambler, preparing for a kamikaze run. His accuracy had gone way up since he first experimented with the technique against the troglodytes. The system had rewarded him with [Wrecking Ball], temporarily hardening his skin and stiffening his joints. The synergy with his levitation and run speed made for a devastating attack.

  The shamblers were terrifying, their maws’ warped reality around their edges, drawing in space and time like ripples in a pond. Luckily for Ren, it was easily interrupted by his massive, blunt force attacks.

  Throwing himself into piles of leaves was definitely his kind of monster fight. If he had to face rock beasts or – a crystal creature, he’d probably – run in the other direction.

  Ren looped around in a wide arc, notes floating in his wake, dense foliage like stepping stones as he levitated across the mire, a grin on his face. He could see Meen-Tra tapping her foot as she leaned her head in Ren’s direction, checking on his progress. She’d been a good sport, he had to admit, acting as bait while he charged up an attack.

  Ren flattened out his arc, lowering his head to the ground as he charged in like a bull, his shirt torn and stained, twig and leaf sticking from his shorts. His form blurred as he closed in, before kicking off and rolling his shoulder toward the ground, as he tucked his legs, and wrapped his arms, “[Wrecking Ball].” Ren stiffened in place, and a silvery sheen ran like a wave across his skin.

  A spray of vine and decaying bog bones, splattered across Meen-Tra – who dropped all of her cores on the ground, as she reflexively shielded her face from the flying debris. Ren rolled straight through the shambler, coming to a stop inches from her cobalt toes, their paint holding up surprisingly well in all this sludge – Do they do magic pedicures here?

  A core bounced off his forehead, snapping him out of his daydreaming, and his eyes traveled up along Meen-Tra’s fit form, and met narrowed eyes. He smiled before rolling away and into a three-point stance.

  Ren had blown clean through the legs—stumps twisting and elongating as they rapidly regenerated, it crawled toward them. He dove at the creature, like a mongoose, tearing into its head, arms, and finally the thigh mound before he struck the core. He pulled it free and raised it fist to the sky, from on his knees, a triumphant expression – like a prize fighter, with a goofy, lopsided grin.

  Meen-Tra yanked it out of his hand before placing her sandal on his back and shoving him, face-first, into the muck. “Thank you.”

  Ren ate a face full of grainy, salty, bog, stuffed with foliage, and the Mire knows what else. He cocked his head to the side, spluttering, “Dude, that was unchill – your killing my vibes, and that move I pulled to take out the legs – fire, you can’t –

  As Ren stood up, wiping his hand on his shorts, he turned around to see Meen-Tra peeling her dress off as she sat on a nearby log with a significant bounce. Ren spluttered again, “W-ha – I – that was – I mean, cantaloupes?”

  Meen-Tra raised an eyebrow, still jiggling, “What are you staring at?” She looked under her arms and lifted her feet to inspect the back of her calves, “Do I have shambler guts on me? It's your fault – if you were more careful.”

  Ren’s face was beet red at this point. He was no prude; he’d been to Europe – ok, a woman’s body was–it’s just it had been a while, and he was taken off guard, “I, what the frag are you doing?” That came out a little harsher than he’d intended.

  Meen-Tra, who was bent over at the waist, plucking cores off the ground, snapped back up – it was as if two water balloons had been filled to bursting – was this some kind of skill?

  “I’m collecting cores?” She’d looped her qipao around her neck and used it like a basket to cradle the cores.

  Ren rubbed the back of his neck, trying hard and failing not to stare at her. Meen-Tra rubbed her breasts, a confused look on her face – “Is it on my chest? Stop staring and wipe it off! I’m a little busy here, cleaning up after your mess.”

  Ren didn’t know what to do with that, so he just turned around, speaking to the air, “I think there are more coming from –” He pointed to somewhere off in the distance, waving his finger about passionately.

  Meen-Tra replied, “I thought you said that was the last one for a while?”

  Ren air walked into the bushes, “I was wrong.”

  Sometime later, Meen-Tra finally caught back up, “Where are we going? Are you lost – I thought you said there were more shamblers this way.”

  Ren sighed, “I was wrong, ok. But we are headed towards Murkspire.”

  Meen-Tra bounced along beside him, “How can you be so sure? You were wrong about the shamblers being this way. And how can you be sure they’re headed towards Murkspire anyway?”

  Ren’s eyes slid sideways, in Meen-Tra’s direction, every so carefully, inch by inch, just to make sure – yep, still there – heat flushed to his… “I – there’s some kind of monster ravaging the city, it doesn’t seem –”

  Meen-Tra dropped to her knees. Ren stopped walking and turned to look down at her, cores spilling to the ground – a look of horror spreading across her face.

  Meen-Tra lifted her hand, fingers trailing along the mark on her face, the black band like war paint tattooed there, “H-how – this…how?”

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  Ren’s eyebrows pinched together. He dropped to his knees, placing himself at eye level with her. He reached out a hand, gently gripping her shoulder, “What is it, Meen-Tra? What's wrong?”

  She didn’t respond, so he gave her a gentle squeeze, drawing her eyes to him. “My workshop is gone.”

  “Gone? How can you tell?” He blurted out the response without thinking.

  Meen-Tra’s nostrils flared as she spoke, “I have wards, Garzha, set them. They are – were advanced I can –”

  She whipped her head up, smacking into Ren’s nose, his head snapped back, with a painful crunch. Meen-Tra didn’t seem to notice; the angst in her voice redoubled, “Garzha!” She shot up to her feet, the cores completely forgotten.

  Ren sat in place, his face screwed up in confusion. Something must have been terribly wrong for her to leave these behind. He stood up and kicked at a core, “[Store Item] would have been nice.” The core he’d intended to punt into the brush disappeared.

  Ren’s foot passed through empty air, causing him to lose his balance. After collecting himself, he looked down, “Huh?” He poked a second core with his toe, “[Store Item].” A popping sound as it disappeared.

  His eyes lit up, “Sandals of holding – fire.”

  Ren caught up to his now fully clothed companion, who was trudging through the muck. He walked up behind her, his pace smooth and easy, as he floated above the surface of the mire, “Should you be stomping like that – I think you're just making it –”

  Meen-Tra turned to glare at him, murder in her eyes, as her nostrils flared, the titan-mark on her face adding a deadly edge to the effect. Ren lifted his palms, “Whoa, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It's just, what's wrong?”

  Meen-Tra stomped to a halt, half buried up to her ankles, “My mom was chasing an escaped dungeon mob, whatever the creature was – the size of the thing.

  She closed her eyes, moisture pooled in the corner, a single tear slid down her cheek, “I think a district has fallen – all those people, Ren.

  She set her jaw and opened her eyes as she looked toward Murkspire. “We need to get there – we have to help.”

  Ren wondered at the kind of threat that might take out a titan tree; his thoughts wandered to the presence that had touched his mind before he’d entered the mire. He didn’t know if he could help fight something like that, but he might be able to help her get there a little faster.

  Ren closed his eyes, centering and grounding himself in his body, flexing his toes as a reminder of the ground beneath his feet. He touched his core, smiling at the now familiar feeling; it thrummed with power, like a sun burning beneath his chest. He really should be doing this more, familiarizing himself with its power; he knew well the importance of practice.

  He hummed a familiar tune, “Well, I hear the music – close my eyes feel the rhythm,” his lips pursed, finger guns at his sides, as he did the cha, cha, cha. Meen-Tra turned to stare, incredulous – dazzling discs of blue and yellow light sprang to life, beneath his swirling fingers, plasma arcing up Ren’s arms.

  His deck shimmered into existence. Ren’s hair danced and waved, his eyes shot open, burning a venomous green; they bore a hole straight through her. He smiled, “[Super Anime].”

  Ren focused his intention on Meen-Tra – her titan-mark burning in his vision, like a signal flare. When he toggled his skill, a familiar sensation tickled from his finger to his toes, bumps raising along his spine. As that sensation came, Ren pushed that power across the void into Meen-Tra’s mark.

  She floated off the ground, her mark shifting to the toxic green of his eyes, which burned with a quiet intensity, while her thick black hair danced across her shoulders. Meen-Tra touched her mark, her mouth slightly open, as her eyes widened in surprise.

  Ren smiled, “[Electric Pace]” – notes swirled from his ankles, before wrapping themself around Meen-Tra’s. “Come on, let's jam, your mom needs us.” He took off like a jack rabbit, notes swirling in his wake.

  Meen-Tra nodded once before taking off after him.

  Meen-Tra and Ren swept across the swamp, running over mire and brush, hair waving and notes swirling, like avenging angels – they flew. Meen-Tra’s determination was fierce; she stuck by Ren’s side, able to feel his aura beside her, in this shared state.

  Her titan-mark tingled a palpable sensation, like nothing she’d ever experienced. She touched her mark constantly, a nervous habit – but now, she could feel the power resonating there, as it drank in Ren’s aura.

  This wasn’t a normal buff – whatever he’d done. At least not one she’d experienced before, not the way it interacted with her mark.

  The aether ahead was visibly distorted, a roar like thunder followed in its wake, “What the – fragg, a t-rex?” Ren exclaimed.

  Meen-Tra flew past Ren as he slowed, “The beast I told you about!

  She looked over her shoulder, her brows knitted in concern, “Come on, let's go, we must be close.”

  Ren shook his head as he racked his brain. How did you beat a t-rex worm with music – and if he held still, would it not be able to see him? All these questions and more crossed his mind as they ran across one of the pontoon roads, leading from the city.

  Meen-Tra had gained on him, but Ren knew precisely where she was, as if there was an invisible chord between them.

  He caught up to her as they crested the rise of the stone bridge. They both stopped at what they saw: Meen-Tra falling to her knees, and Ren lowered his hand to her shoulder.

  Carnage —it was as if a bomb had gone off. Before them, the length of a titan's trunk ran off into the mire, with the platform out of sight. The trunk was flooded up to the halfway mark, as water filled the crater blown out by the impact.

  The Stonecoil docks were – desimated. Most of the buildings had gone, and rafts and junks were dotting the landscape. The pontoon at the base of their bridge had been wiped out, like so many others he could see. Neatly sectioned canals separated by patches of firm soil, all collapsed and flooded.

  A second roar split the air, as the ground lifted, water spilling away like the rush of a tide – a gaping maw opened wide, swallowing the horizon – rows of teeth, like a cylindrical saw.

  “Garzha…” Meen-Tra scrabbled onto her feet, dashing in the direction of the colossus. Ren shrugged before following in her wake.

  Mirabella clung to life, trapped in a quagmire. She’d ignored the orders of the council; they could go to the ancestors for all she cared. Alyndra sat, honey dripping from her dribbling maw, offering no answers, allowing Ren to vanish, while the wards crumbled.

  The Shamanic pools drained, and the council had been useless. She had no idea where Lyle was, but her only comfort was that he must be far from here.

  In her haste to help the wounded, she’d been swept up in a wave, the backwash of the initial crash – come back in the direction of the city. Mirabella had been ferrying those citizens who had fallen from the bridge and the district edge – those who were not sunken or drowned.

  Images of drowned children, their faces pale and lips blue, bodies swollen and bloated. It had been a horror show, but she’d been able to help dozens to nearby elevators, even as the vatagand rampaged across the mire.

  She was sinking and unable to escape, her totems and charms lost, and her skills drained. She thought of Lyle again, a smile pushing across her snout, as she lay her head in the muck. The vatagand roared. Distant horns sounded in alarm. She didn’t bother shouting for help. All hope had gone out of her.

  “Over here.” Ren’s voice came from behind. Mirabella lifted her head, ears twitching. Two sets of arms reached under, straining against her massive bulk. She wouldn’t budge; the muck had her in its suction.

  “It's no use – the Mire has me, and it won’t let go.” Mirabella cried in despair.

  “[Bombastic Base Drop]...[Bombastic Base Drop]!” Gouts of water and muck flew in all directions as Ren shot notes of power into the muck, while Mirabella wriggled herself loose, finally pulling her rear paw up and out of the swamp with a long slurping squish.

  She sprawled out on her belly, crawling forward, dispersing her bulk. Ren and Meen-Tra looked at each other, feeling helpless. This was chaos, impossible to tell where the muck began and the water ended.

  Mirabella continued to slop her way feebly through the mess. She finally made it to a pool of water, her arms splashing into the dark surface. Mirabella rolled onto her back, her belly, snout, and foot paws poking above the surface of the water.

  “What in the bog were you doing?” Asked Mirabella through closed eyes, like nothing had happened, and she was simply taking a relaxing bath.

  Ren scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah – my bad, I have a skill. Makes potions and stuff last longer. You’re ancestors chill though, super scary.”

  Before Meen-Tra could ask any questions, a voice from behind said, “Well, daughter of mine, you seem to be quite the explorer!” A boisterous laugh, Ren looked over her shoulder, at a terrifying smile, the look of every self-satisfied parent ever – the all-knowing I told you so smirk. “You’ve got a nose for trouble, just like your Ma! And who's the hunk with the hair? I thought you were into the mecha-gnome?”

  Meen-Tra slapped her open fist to her face, as Ren raised an eyebrow.