The thumping in Aurora's chest had finally subsided. She could breathe a little better but still not well enough.

Suddenly fatigued, she plopped herself down on one of the new chairs. As far as comfort went, it was top notch. Still, its comfort did not calm her. It did not comfort her.

The new television was playing a show about a man who kept losing an arm every episode. While she didn't understand the premise or enjoy it, the show held Dorthna's attention so vastly. He watched it with one of the most serious expressions she had ever seen.

"How are they?" Dorthna asked, not looking away from the television.

Aurora nodded, then realized that he wasn't looking at her. She stopped. Changing her mind, she moved to speak, then realized that it was Dorthna and stopped that, too. He had not been looking at her but Dorthna was always aware.

"I see," Dorthna mused.

She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or talking about the movie. Now that she was certain that her children were okay, she could watch the viral video once more. She scrolled through her phone and, in a few clicks, the video was in front of her once again.

She watched Melmarc wrestle against a man who seemed to burn the air with every skill. She watched his face contort in pain with every attack and defense.

So much pain, she thought with a grimace that couldn't leave her face. How could he handle it without making a sound?

Most people did not understand that crying out was good for pain. It lessened it, made you feel less of it instead of all of it. To take pain without making a sound was to take all of it.

Ark didn't play much of a role in the fight. On one occasion where he had tried to step in, Melmarc had stopped him. He'd said something but the background noise in the video was too much to make out his words.

Aurora thought of her children's skills and figured it had something to do with how Melmarc couldn't take damage when [Knowledge is Power] was active. He could feel only the pain while Ark would also take damage.

Eventually, however, Ark had been forced to intercede. And he had taken a whole lot of damage.

"You're really watching it?" Dorthna asked.

Aurora didn't look up from the phone screen. "Yes."

She watched both sons wrestle and fight against a powerful enemy. It broke her in three places to watch it, but she had to. It was important. Necessary.

Now that she knew that her sons were safe and alright, a smile touched her face when she watched Ark turn to look at Mel as their enemy stood at the edge of the plane, in front of its broken cabin.

Ark had sacrificed himself without hesitation.

The man blazed now, bright as a growing sun. Heat that grand and powerful enough to distort the environment could only come from an A-rank or B-rank. And judging from how all his powers were only fire based, the man had to be a [Pyromancer].

Not a lot of skills, she deduced, now that she had watched the entire video, paying attention to the details.

Not a lot of skills meant that he wasn't very versed in being a Gifted. He hadn't used his skills enough to grow them.

"Today!" the man declared, so bright that his features could barely be made out, snarling at Mel and Ark as he burned too bright. "You will know the existence of the league of the Bright Flames!"

The League of Bright Flames.

She couldn't say that she had heard of them before.

Even though she already knew what was coming, her heart still plummeted when Ark slammed into the burning man and threw the both of them off the plane.

Tears threatened to fill her eyes when Mel froze in complete confusion. He was a lot like his father in that moment. David was the only reason she knew what was going to happen next. Melmarc moved so fast that he was nothing but a blur in the camera, then he was out of the plane.

When Aurora was done watching it, she found Dorthna watching her as the television now showed a commercial.

"I don't say this very often," Dorthna began. "But your son. Your children."

He paused, like someone who was thinking about how to say something that he doesn't say often.

"What about them?" Aurora asked, pressing the issue.

"They impress me," Dorthna said. "He impresses me."

Aurora blinked. "How so?"

Dorthna adjusted so that he sat facing her now. They each sat on opposite ends of the living room. Dorthna was seemingly closer to the television.

He ignored it now as he spoke.

"I felt your sons die today," he said simply.

Aurora's anger flared up so suddenly that she forgot that she couldn't dream of winning a fight with the being even if there was an entire world of her to fight alongside her.

"Choose your next words carefully, Dorthna," she bit out.

"Your anger cannot help you, and it is displaced," he said simply. "I am only telling you the truth. Ark died today, if only for a flash of a moment. Mel, however, has died for the second time in his life today. They fell. They died." He looked thoughtful. "I dare say that Mel has unlocked the aspect of Death. Very early for an [August Intruder]. Dare I say, far too early."

His brows furrowed now. He seemed suspicious of something.

"The point I'm making is that your son has died twice. And he has somehow done it completely naturally, without miracles or a loop in time somewhere." He sat forward. "As far as existence is concerned, he is dead, twice. Yet, he still lives, twice. All done naturally. I've only seen three people achieve this feat. And I've seen a lot of people."

"So, people don't die and live?" Aurora asked, wondering where he was going with this.

"Not naturally. I've seen a lot of people die and come back through exploitation of some loophole. I've seen people die and come back through external aid." He held up three fingers. "I've only seen three people die and live at the same time. Mel has done it twice, in two different ways."

It took Aurora a moment to realize that she had to ask a question.

"When was the first time?"

"The attack," Dorthna said without missing a beat. "He died from the attack, yet somehow he kept himself alive in death. I speculate that the pure mana had something to do with it. I felt him die then. Now, I felt him die again."

Dorthna ran his hand through his hair as if he wasn't in agreement with his own thoughts. Something was wrong. It was written on his face.

"The pure mana should've killed him twice over," he continued. "Even as he walked around alive before he became Gifted."

Aurora wasn't sure she wanted to know more. "What about Ark?"

"He impresses me by the very nature of being a fate defying fool. Good kid, though."

"Fate defying?"

"He was never meant to get a class, but through him being at the wrong place at the right time he found a demon on a world that should not have demons and was chosen by that demon." He gave her a cheery smile. "I assure you, he is the single and only of his kind that I am aware of to have become a [Demon King] through this very means."

"So, demons don't make people [Demon king]s?"

"Oh, they do. But a world that is not supposed to have any encounter with demons has never birthed a [Demon King]. We do not have stow away demons."

He still looked very suspicious.

Aurora's mind was working through the semantics of it all. She came to a sudden realization. "You think someone had a hand in making it happen? That someone orchestrated it?"

Dorthna scoffed. "Nope. Demons and the events surrounding demons cannot be orchestrated by another, at least not with demons of Spitfire's level. No, that was all coincidental. If it was orchestrated, it would be by Spitfire."

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"So…"

Dorthna was already shaking his head. "Spitfire orchestrating all this is as possible as a three-month-old baby orchestrating anything."

Aurora felt peace settle in her heart. It was a terrifying thing to know that your children's lives were being manipulated by some all powerful being that you could not see and did not know.

"What of Nin?"

"Terrifying."

It was one word, said with absolute certainty.

"That's all?"

Dorthna looked at her as if she was simple. "It is not an easy thing to terrify me, War."

"Wait." Aurora paused. "You are really terrified of her?"

"I've been saying it for the longest time."

"We thought it was a joke," Aurora pointed out. "Like how an uncle is scared of his niece because she's his niece and all that."

Dorthna shook his head. "I am well and truly terrified of her. Your daughter can be worrying when she chooses to be."

Aurora was well and truly confused. "Is there something wrong with her that I don't know?"

She felt like hugging herself.

Dorthna shook his head. "No. Nothing."

"Then what has you so terrified of her?"

"I don't know exactly. You'd think it would be from being the only sentient being in existence with two Oaths for parents and an [August Intruder] and [Demon King] for younger siblings. But that's not it."

"Then what is it?"

Dorthna took a deep and steadying breath, as if preparing himself for war. "Because she is loved."

"Of course she is."

Dorthna shook his head very quickly. "No, you're not getting it. You see how people are loved?"

"I do."

"But you notice how they are all loved by someone?"

Aurora nodded slowly. "I do."

"Nin is loved by people, but that's not the point I'm making."

"I'm still confused."

Dorthna sighed as if he was a professor trying to explain nuclear physics to an infant.

"Everyone is loved by someone," he said as slowly as possible. "But Nin is loved."

"By?"

He shook his head. "It does not apply, War. Your daughter, first fruit of your womb, is simply loved."

"Okay…" Aurora dragged the word, understanding but not really understanding. "And that's a bad thing because she's the only one or one of three to be loved?"

"Oh, no. People are often loved, mostly one in each era or things like that."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that she's sentient and un-Gifted. In the wider cosmos she is no more important than a male mosquito."

"Wow. Imagine if she could hear her favorite uncle's opinion of her," Aurora said, rolling her eyes.

"When you think of a male mosquito, what comes to mind?"

"A male mosquito."

"And how do you feel about it?"

"I don't."

"Alright. How about this? Do you identify a male mosquito in your mind right now?"

"Nope."

"Then imagine what it means for a male mosquito to be loved." Dorthna leaned back on his chair and looked at the television. "A fluffy dog is loved every now and again. Not commonly, but once in a while, maybe once an era. And we can understand that. In your daughter's case, an insignificant male mosquito is loved. It may not worry you, but you should be worried."

He paused. Realization slipped into his eyes. "It is a good thing to talk about things that befuddle you."

Aurora was too busy concealing her pleasure at knowing that her only daughter that was seemingly incapable of defending herself in the presence of the things in the wider cosmos was loved. Still, she made out enough attention to indulge Dorthna.

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Because I just discovered why she terrifies me."

It was always a good thing to have someone in the family that terrified a man who could not be terrified.

"And why does my sweet harmless daughter terrify you?"

Dorthna paused to give her an annoyed look before finally answering.

"Because," he said, his entire attention focusing back on the television, "when it comes to her, I don't know."

That was interesting. Dorthna tended to always know.

The thought brought something to mind. Aurora had never heard of the Bright Flame before.

"Do you know who the League of Bright Flame are?" she asked, making sure to sound casual.

Dorthna shrugged. "Some group of [Pyromancer]s that came together about a month ago. They fancy themselves the greatest because the sun is hot and the most important thing in the solar system as far as they know." He looked at her. "Why? Who are they to you?"

A slow smile touched her lips when she answered.

"My new enemies."

She got up and left the living room, knowing that she had work to do. It had been a long time since she waged war on anyone.

At the door, she paused. "Where's my husband?"

"Out."

Aurora's eyes widened and she paled. "Out?"

Dorthna nodded absently. "Out."

She was suddenly struck with the urge to hyperventilate. David was never just… out. The Oath of Madness was out.

She rounded on Dorthna with uncanny speed. "Why is my husband out, Dorthna?"

Dorthna smiled, he fucking smiled. "Because."

Her eyes grew wider. Because was not a viable answer. She released Dorthna and made her way to her room. Madness had come back from the airport with her and had been in their room until he'd simply just walked out of the room at some point.

She'd assumed he'd wandered off to the garden or somewhere in the house. But definitely not out.

The League of Bright Flame could wait. They were not a big issue at this moment. A big issue was David.

The Oath of Madness had just been unleashed on the world, unchecked. And Dorthna was smiling about it.

Reaching her room, she snatched her protective combat suit from the closet and stormed out.

Someone had to do something.

Why?

Because Madness had just been unleashed on the world.

…

Dieter stood quietly with folded arms over his chest. He counted his breaths even though he breathed normally. It was something of an exercise that kept him in place, quiet and waiting.

Around him, in the same room, were twelve other Delvers. Like him, they were all S-rank classes. Like him, they were all on the ranking list. Powerful Delvers in their own rights.

Ronan, a Delver who was roughly around number seventy-two on the ranking list was speaking. This entire event was three days in the making. Fast, by Dieter's standards. Interested, he'd flown in from his country just last night on his private jet.

The room was spacious, like a properly filled out living room. However, it was the size of an auditorium, large and grand. Couches and comfortable chairs of varying kinds filled out the entire room. It was as if they had been expecting a far larger turnout than just thirteen Delvers.

The walls were brown, simply brown. There was nothing unique to the color or the paint. In fact, Dieter was no specialist, but if he was to lend his opinion, he would say that the paint itself was subpar. Beams interspersed the living room, keeping the ceiling up. They were as boorish as the walls around them.

There was a plasma television against one side of the room but the chair arrangements had those seated turned away from the television. It was not important to the gathering. The smell of something being cooked came from a door to the side. It was most likely an American meal because Dieter did not recognize the smell. At least it was not German. He knew the smell of every German dish known to man.

"I believe all those who have read the emails know why we are here," Ronan said, standing at the center of the array of chairs.

Everyone present must've read it. No one would be here if they had not read it. Personally, Dieter was in support of it. The portals had gone on a vacation with no return date for reasons a lot of people—if not everyone—did not know.

Without the sense of an impending portal looming over his head, Dieter had grown very antsy, and bored. Humans, he had come to realize, were boring and weak and boring.

He caught himself sighing most times like the elderly. Every day he could feel his skills growing rusty and rustier. It was a disgusting feeling. A shameful one. He heard of other Delvers who had taken to a life of vigilante-ism, children wearing spandexes and playing hero.

It was beneath him.

So, this was, arguably, a better alternative. A way to keep himself from being bored and or rusty.

"Before we start," Ronan said, casting his gaze around, "is there anyone who came here simply because they want to object to the very idea?"

He waited, watching for anyone who would raise a hand or make an objection. Dieter counted twelve beats of his own heart before Ronan continued.

"Good," Ronan said. "Now that we all know that we are in agreement, today will mark the first day of the battle royal. We have a [Healer] in our presence, S-ranked. We will go on a five day battle royal, here in this room, then we will finalize plans on the fifth day."

A hand slid up calmly.

Dieter turned to it, taking in its owner. He was a short, dark skinned man, perhaps five feet and six inches… seven, if Dieter was being generous.

Ronan turned to him, too. "Yes, Dabere?"

"What if one of us is to die?"

"That is very unlikely."

"It is not secret that I have a skill capable of melting a man down to his bones," Dabere pointed out. "Believe me, it is very likely."

Ronan paused for a moment. He took a deep breath.

"[Healer]," he said, and a man rose up from his chair. The man approached him.

The [Healer] nodded.

Ronan returned the nod. He sucked in a deep breath as he rolled up the sleeves of one of his arms. "If you would be kind," he said.

The [Healer] nodded. In the blink of an eye, he drew a long sword out of nowhere and severed Ronan's arm at the elbow.

Not a single soul in the room showed shock or surprise.

These Americans, Dieter thought with a barely concealed smile. They are crazy people.

The arm dropped to the ground and Ronan's face contorted in withheld pain. In his pain, the [Healer] placed his hands over the bleeding injury. Brown light enclosed the wound and everyone waited for what was to happen. It was slow, and took a little too long, but they saw it.

Now, people gasped.

Dieter smiled, refusing to hold it back. Madness.

A [Healer] who could regrow lost limbs was not a very popular occurrence. At least none that could regrow a lost limb so fast. Dieter knew a [Healer] who could do such a thing but it took them months of constant sessions to completely accomplish the task.

"I hope this answers your question, Dabere," Ronan said, holding back his pain. "In under three hours, my arm will be completely regrown. No one will die here unless one of you puts in an effort into killing them. Is this understood?"

Heads nodded around the room, but like Dieter, he knew that their attention was no longer entirely on the battle royal. Each man and woman present was most likely calculating how much of a salary offer it would take them to get the [Healer] on their team in the event that the portals do in fact return.

"Now, we will…" Ronan paused, eyes squinting. "Welcome?" he said with uncertainty to the other side of the room.

Heads turned in time to find a new member present. Dieter took the man in, watching with something akin to awe.

Big.

It was the only word that came to mind. The man was at least seven feet tall. Definitely taller. Most of them would've mistaken him for a late arrival if not for the mask he wore over his face. It was theatrical, happy on one side and sad on the other.

The man walked forward calmly. In his dominating height, he was built like a man designed to demolish buildings by throwing himself into them.

A tanker, Dieter concluded.

Ronan frowned, then looked off to the side. Someone appeared out of nowhere right next to the man. A teleportation skill, it seemed. Ronan had quite a number of interesting associates.

The man swung a machete at the intruder, then fell to the ground, crumpling like a wet rag.

Everybody froze. The intruder had their attention.

"Try to kill me," the intruder said.

The words were barely out of his mouth when everyone started moving. They were S-rank Delvers who risked their lives in portals for a living. They knew a threat when they saw one. They knew a threat that would put them down if they did not put it down.

The man in front of them was an apex predator.

But they were predators, too.

One of them cut through the distance, turning into nothing but a white line running through the air in the blink of an eye.

She appeared in front of the intruder with a knife to the side.

The intruder caught her hand before her blow landed. He did not look down at her. At least, Dieter did not think so. It was impossible to tell when the man was wearing a mask.

"Try to kill me," the intruder repeated. "But I will not kill you."

Then he struck her with the back of his hand, moving too fast for her to react. The lady, ranked forty-two in the Delver ranking, fell to the ground without putting up a fight.

The man's head moved. He turned his attention to the rest of them and stepped forward.

"Now," he said in a solid voice, a choir master to his choir. "All at once."

And they obeyed.

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