Spitfire chewed on one of Melmarc's shirts. There had been an ongoing battle between him and the demon that had lasted all but three minutes before he had given up and abandoned the fate of his shirts to the creature. Because of the battle, the floor was strewn with different shirts of his. Each time he fought over one of the shirts, Spitfire let him have it and simply went for another one.

Melmarc was beginning to see the wisdom in wardrobes having locks even if his only roommate was his brother.

"Why doesn't it ever go after my pants?" he muttered, half asking Ark half soliloquizing.

Ark shrugged on his bed. "No idea. Maybe it's because he sleeps in them."

"I thought it sleeps in one of my shirts."

"No, no," Ark waved the statement aside. "It used to sleep in your shirts until it slept in your pants that one time. Now it sleeps in your pants."

Melmarc opened his mouth. Not really having anything useful to say, he closed it. It wasn't like the demon was ruining his clothes. It just made him need to do the laundry quite often.

"Any idea when this ban will be lifted?" Ark asked after a while. He had his head buried in his phone. Melmarc had no idea what he was doing.

"What ban?"

"This whole no portal thing you have going."

Melmarc shrugged. "I don't even know how or why the ban's happening."

Ark shook his head as if to say he wasn't pleased with the answer. "The world's been a little boring since the ban. The news doesn't even know what to report on."

Melmarc found that very surprising. "It's not even been up to a month."

"Still more than enough." Melmarc shook his head. "Delvers are slowly becoming celebrities of a different kind."

"Haven't they always been celebrities?"

"Yes, but now they are of a different kind of celebrity," Ark said. "Would you believe that Smald is a porn star now?"

Melmarc paused, looking up from his phone. "Who's Smald?"

He'd never heard of a Delver by that name.

Ark looked down at his phone as if to confirm the piece of information. "Blue eyes, long red hair that comes down to her back? Tenifer… I think?"

"Oh, Tenifer." Melmarc paused. "Since when has she been going by Smald? What's even a smald?"

Tenifer was a Delver famous for her ability to turn her hands into stone. She was also beautiful. Her hair looked fiery when she let it flow in the wind.

"You're weird," Ark said. "I just told you she's in the adult industry and you're more worried about why she's changed her name."

Melmarc shrugged. "Why is she in the adult industry?"

"She's not," Ark said with a sigh, returning his attention to his phone. "I just said it to get a rise out of you. A lot of rise that did."

"So, everyone's just bored that there's no portal." Melmarc shrugged. "They should go into knitting."

"They've actually gone into something else," Ark said.

"Are you about to tell another lie?"

Ark shook his head. He moved on his bed. Half-way off his bed, he paused, thought about it, then stopped entirely. He scooted back to where he had been sitting.

"I'm older," he said when he was comfortable again. "You come over here and see it."

Rolling his eyes, Melmarc obeyed. He moved from his bed and joined Ark on his own. Ark's bed was no more or less comfortable than his own.

"What are you showing me?" he asked, adjusting beside his brother,

Ark tilted his phone to him so that he could see. "Vigilantes."

On the screen of his phone was an article that featured a picture of Tenifer. At least Melmarc thought it was Tenifer. Squinting at the article in confusion, he looked at Ark.

"Why is she wearing spandex?"

"Delvers wear spandex all the time," Ark answered with a shrug.

"True, and not all of them," Melmarc conceded. "But it's always for publicity stunts and things like that. This article says that she's fighting crime. Look, right here," he took the phone from his brother and scrolled a little. "'She's been found beating up gangs of Gifted individuals terrorizing the upper east side.'"

He looked at Ark. "Since when did Delvers start fighting crime?"

Ark took his phone back, chuckling. "Since there's been no monster to fight and no portal to close?"

"Crime fighting is for the police. Delvers delve."

"Can you really blame them?" Ark asked. "Most of them are always out and about, trying to close portals. Now that they've been home long enough and are slowly beginning to accept that maybe there might not be portals for a very long time, so they are looking inward, seeing what's really becoming of their homes."

"And it's a mess," Melmarc muttered. "Why don't they just work with the police or something. Beating up random gang members just looks like a path to a lot of problems."

Ark paused, gave him a curious look.

Melmarc returned the look with one of his own and asked, "What?"

"For the smart brother, you're kinda dumb, aren't you?"

"One, I'm not the smart brother. Two, I remember Uncle D calling me philosophical."

"He also called you a brick wall."

"Ark, focus. You have a reason for calling me dumb. What is it?"

"Kinda dumb," Ark corrected. "And the reason is that Delvers can't work with the police because the police don't like the Delvers."

"I've never gotten that impression before."

"It's the power dynamic," Ark explained. "The Gifted police are very few, and their ranks are quite low. The bad guys they have to deal with, however, rarely have that limit requirement. You get news of five Gifted officers dying in a battle trying to subdue one Gifted criminal. When you look into it, you find out that its some A-rank criminal killing B-rank officers."

"So they should be happy to have Delvers work with them."

Ark shook his head slowly. "When they needed the strong guys, the Delvers were out there seeking fame and glory and entering portals and making the big money. The strong cleaned up the portals while the weak cleaned up the streets at significant costs to their life."

"Somebody had to close the portals," Melmarc argued.

"True, but all the Delvers were not occupied in the portals at all times," Ark explained. "They could've always stepped up to help the police every now and again. It would've definitely reduced the casualty count. Now, they want to just turn up and take over? Please." Ark rolled his eyes. "That's just raring for a fight."

"So, they wear spandex and beat up random bad guys? Doesn't sound good."

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"Why not?"

"Well, think about it." Melmarc got up from the bed and headed back to his own. "First and foremost, their safety. Unlike with Portals, they have no idea what the ranks of the bad guys they're running into are. What happens when a B-rank Delver throws hands with an A-rank criminal?"

"They get their asses handed to them?"

"And you don't see what the problem is with that?"

Ark shook his head. "Nope. It just means they had poor judgement and that they were weak."

Melmarc sighed. Talking to Ark wasn't like talking to a brick wall, but it was definitely like talking to someone who seemed unable to see the negative side of things instead of the positive.

"When people think Delver, what do they think?" he asked, deciding to walk with Ark to the answer.

"Powerful, strong, protector."

"Now, what do you think the petty criminals see?"

"Logically, while the Gifted police exist to keep the criminals in line, the criminals aren't really afraid of them. they are more afraid of getting the attention of the powerful—the Delvers."

Ark sighed. "Have I told you how much I hate it when you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Walk me to the answer as if I'm stupid."

Melmarc paused. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, don't stop," Ark interrupted. "Don't get me wrong, I hate it, but I understand it. You like to talk and philosophize. Since you do it from a good place, I'm sure I can always put up with it since it helps me understand what you're trying to say better."

"Are you sure?"

"Keep idiot-speaking, Mel, I'm listening."

Melmarc wasn't feeling very comfortable about his manner of approach anymore, but he continued. "What I'm trying to say is that what do you think will happen if these popular Delvers that the criminals have always feared start getting their asses handed to them by the criminals, dying at their hands, too?"

"They'll stop fearing them as powerful," Ark answered easily. "So?"

"And you don't see the problem with that?"

"Let me guess," Ark said, having clearly given it some thought. "More criminals will start coming out of their holes and wrecking more havoc more confidently."

"Yes."

"That's not a problem. There's always a stronger Delver out there. We have the S-ranks."

"And how long do you think it will take before the S-ranks finally decide to stoop to the degrading level of doing police work and beating up gangsters when all they've been doing is fighting against monsters capable of knocking down buildings in one blow. It is not degrading, but it will feel degrading."

"A while," Ark agreed. "But they'll come down eventually."

"And what happens to simple civilians between the time the criminals discover their freedom and the S-ranks come down?"

Ark paused. "I see you've given it a lot of thought."

Melmarc had. He'd speculated it for a long time in the past. The Delvers were only feared because those who did not enter portals saw the kinds of things they fought in Chaos Runs and worried.

If they were fighting larger men, people would have looked at it and bragged that they could take it. But nobody saw an anaconda the size of a building in movies and thought to themselves 'Oh, I'm sure I could take it.'

You didn't think you could take on eldritch horrors. They terrified you. So, the people that ended up taking on those eldritch horrors ended up terrifying you, too.

If a huge guy walked into a building, one or two people could think to themselves that they could take him. If the man walked in with a dead bear that he had killed himself, they would think a little differently.

"And why does nobody consider this from a different angle," Melmarc continued. "Imagine organized crime. The criminals decide that before the S-ranks come down for them, what happens if they go up to the S-ranks instead. Set up ambushes, kill them."

"Then who'll close the portals when they come back?"

Melmarc shrugged. "If S-ranks are killing monsters and we are killing S-ranks, who says we can't kill monsters?"

Ark paused, thought about it. "That logic actually makes sense. And there'll also be people who'll tell themselves that the portals are probably never coming back."

"It's going to be hunting season for Delvers," Melmarc concluded. "Delvers just aren't trained for the dynamic situation of dealing with evil people in a civilized setting. I'd argue that Delvers would happily and easily kill a monster but will find themselves freezing up when it comes to killing a fellow human being."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that they do the exact same thing that the police already does with certain Gifted individuals," Melmarc explained. "The police have contracts with individuals above C-rank with some combat experience but are not Delvers. Should their help be required, they would request for it and the Delvers will come to their aid. Obviously for a price."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"In cities where Gifted individuals actually agree, Gifted crime rates have been recorded to be less than other cities. Delvers might see it as demeaning but it's the reasonable thing to do. The police do the preliminary investigations, find out what rank their dealing with and call in the necessary Delver if they think it's necessary."

"That makes sense."

"Not to talk about the damage cost," Melmarc muttered. "Delvers don't pay much attention to infrastructural damage. And while they'll pay attention to human casualties, they'll be quite used to the people around them being able to fend for themselves. It's just going to be chaotic. Being vigilantes is not a good idea, in my opinion."

"Oh, about that. Some people are already calling them heroes. Superheroes, to be precise."

Melmarc pressed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He sighed.

"What?" Ark asked. "You know something about it."

"Everyone does," Melmarc muttered. "Delano says that there are people who've been pushing the narrative for years, centuries even. But every time it pops up, it just kind of vanishes into the realm of rumors. Anytime we talk about it, it just kind of sounds like the beginning of a bad story. Superheroes just sound like a path to supervillains."

"Gifted criminals sound like supervillains."

"True, and the Gifted police are actually superheroes. But the whole thing is about the naming. There's just something about titles that make people act different."

"Like a girl you're just chilling with in a situationship and a girl that's your girlfriend," Ark mused. "They are the same person, in a manner of speaking, but they act different and expect you to act different when the titles are involved."

Melmarc never really understood the concept of 'situationships.' It just sounded like a relationship to him. A relationship without responsibility and accountability.

"Kind of a Casanova explanation, but yes," he agreed.

"But that would mean that the idea of superheroes must've come up a few times," Ark muttered. "Even if not from the Delvers, then maybe from normal Gifted trying to protect their streets."

Melmarc agreed. There have been Gifted for centuries. It would be difficult to think that there were no eras of superheroes and supervillains.

A knock on the door ended his revelry even as it had just begun.

"If I see any naked body I'm throwing a fit," their mother's voice called from outside. "I'm coming in in three, two, one."

The door opened and their mother walked in.

The house had something of an unspoken rule of no locked doors. The only person that was allowed to lock her door was Ninra and she didn't lock her doors. Regardless, people knocked and announced themselves before entering. It was always in some variation or the other.

Their mother strolled in. As always, the very first thing she took in was the state of the room.

"Mel," she said with a sigh. "Why's the room a mess?"

Melmarc got up from the bed immediately. "There are two of us here."

He started picking his clothes up from the ground.

"Yes, there are," his mother agreed. "But you're the younger brother, also the cleaner brother. You don't expect Ark to be cleaning up the room, do you? Especially when it's your clothes on the ground."

"It's his pet demon that made the mess, though," Melmarc grumbled, gathering everything up except the one Spitfire was still chewing on.

It was interesting how the demon chewed on them but never ruined them. Well… maybe not never.

"Just chuck all of them in the wardrobe," she said as Uncle Dorthna entered the room.

Uncle Dorthna looked around. "Ark," he said simply. "Clean up after your demon, will you."

Ark would've gotten up if there was anything left to clean up. Melmarc shoved the clothes into the wardrobe and closed it.

"Superheroes and supervillains," Ark said suddenly, looking at their mother and uncle.

Uncle Dorthna scoffed. "Your world doesn't have the necessary rules and controls in place to survive that. You'll lose a lot of normal people. Terrible idea."

Their mother cocked a brow at him. "We're not without intelligence."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Uncle Dorthna said. "You'll figure it out eventually. But the cost isn't really worth it. The method you have in place is safer. You'll need overpowered intervention for it to work."

"The Oaths could pull it off."

"That's not superheroes then. It's supreme overlords."

"But it's been done before, right?" Melmarc looked between them. "It's hard to believe that we haven't tried it before."

"We have," their mother confirmed, "but it never ends well. Actually, it's always terminated before it begins."

"By who?" Ark asked.

"By whom?" their mother corrected.

"That's kind of a no brainer," Melmarc said. "It's always the government."

Uncle Dorthna shook his head. "If your world is like most worlds that don't use the superhero thing, I'd say your government pushes for it and the Oaths push against it."

Melmarc and Ark looked at their mother.

She rolled her eyes at them. "Oh, please. I'm sure Mel already knows why we'll push against it. Casualty, carnage, and a buck load of other things." She waved the question aside. "It's just not worth it."

"Why Mel and not me?" Ark asked.

Their mother snorted in amusement. Uncle Dorthna did the same.

"Because I know my children," she said. "You're impulsive and Mel thinks a lot. You'll be for superheroes and Mel will be for Gifted police. One is free and impulsive, the other is controlled and reasonable."

Uncle Dorthna smiled something devious. "Maybe you should be a superhero when you're strong enough."

"Please don't." Their mother ran a hand down her face. "If you love your mother, you'll just stick to being a Delver and a [Demon King]."

Ark pouted. "I can be a [Demon King] but not a hero?"

"You're more likely to be a supervillain if Mel ever leaves this world," Uncel Dorthna said, chuckling. "That might not be bad to see, though."

"I'm a good guy," Ark argued.

"Alright," Uncle Dorthna said, turning to address him properly. "What will you do if the world decides that they don't like Mel and turn against him?"

Silence settled on the room. Ark broke it with one word.

"Oh."

Uncle Dorthna laughed. "Oh, is correct. Now, if we're done debating this hero, villain thing, can we get on with what your mom came for?"

One look at his mother's face and Melmarc knew what she was here for.

"Alright then," Uncle Dorthna said, "shake hands."

And just like that, the room became tense and a little too stuffy for Melmarc. He held his hand out and his mother shook it.

[Dormant Oath detected]

[Detected Oath: War]

[Would you like to reactivate dormant Oath of War?]

[Y/N?]

Melmarc drew in a deep breath.

This had been a long time coming.

Yes.

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