I rode to the end of Lowspire Way with four horses hauling a stagecoach with nearly new furniture I had lifted from a guest room. It wasn't like Daven would be missing it.

  Only one Royal Guard had questioned me on my way out of the district, and I simply told him I was part of the Fated Twins convoy and they let me through the Regal Plaza without further issue.

  Garik dragged the loft’s door open. The carriage’s roof scraped close to the frame as I guided the horses inside.

  "G’morning Boss."

  "Good morning."

  I glanced to the back of the spacious loft and saw Viessa and Veigan sitting across from one another on crooked stools in total silence.

  Garik clapped his hands together, perking them up to half-dead from totally non-responsive. "Greet the boss!"

  "Greetings," they said in half-assed unison.

  "I've brought furniture and other goods."

  While the lack of sleep had clearly affected them, I crossed the 72 hour mark without slowing down. Everyone else looked exhausted. Even tired wrinkles had etched through the dirtied makeup caked across Garik's face.

  "I squeezed three mattresses in the back."

  The hope of a somewhat proper sleeping arrangement spurred everyone into action, unloading the haul before the horses could shit on the floor. Including the mattresses, I secured a few chairs, some end tables, and two fur-laden armchairs.

  After everything was unloaded, Garik took the horses and stolen stagecoach outside and around to the back, parking them in the private dirt lot. It lay out of sight from the road—not that many travelers came to this end of Lowspire Way.

  A circle formed out of the stolen chairs and tables in the center of the loft. I sat on a thick mahogany trunk, looming over the naturally formed pow-wow.

  Viessa claimed one of the soft, white furry arm chairs. Veigan took the other and Garik opted for the floor, crisscrossing his legs.

  I sighed as the giant itched at his makeup.

  ‘"Wash it off. We have plenty of funds. Obtain a new identity. Something with a better background. Like a drifter turned bodyguard. It doesn't look good to have slaves on our roster when ending slavery is also on the agenda."

  "Thank you, Boss."

  "Ah, wiping out the corrupt elites, ending slavery? May I suggest uniting humanity with the elfs? Since we're only talking small tasks," Veigan said, unaware of what he'd unleashed.

  "An alliance with the elves will come, but not during the first phase." Viessa jumped out of her chair, walked across the loft, opened up a saddlebag and returned to the circle with a mountain of papers and journals.

  As she flipped open a notebook and settled on a page, Veigan peered over her shoulder.

  "Your notes are in elvish?" he asked.

  Viessa looked toward me and I hesitated. I already trusted Garik fully, and had hoped last night would've cemented Veigan on our side. Wasn't Stockholm Syndrome supposed to endear him to me? Maybe I had taken the wrong approach, assuming fear and power trumped all. Did he need a bloodless olive branch?

  "What do you think?" I asked the elf, since revealing her identity was ultimately her choice.

  Veigan threw his hands out to the side, turning his confused gaze in my direction. "You speak elvish?"

  Goddamn auto-translate...

  "Uh..."

  "Finally," Viessa said.

  She lifted her mesh mask and dropped her hood, revealing her sharp elvish features, pointed ears, tangled silver hair, and dark circles under her emerald eyes.

  Veigan snapped back, jaw dropped open. "What the fuck is going on anymore? Was I killed back in Anderhorn Spire?"

  Garik clapped his hands together, closed his eyes and said, "It's no surprise Boss attracts allies from all races, cultures, and genders."

  "Shut up, you're just as surprised! I see you wiggling your toes in your boots, giddy bastard. I knew her mana signature was odd."

  Viessa pulled two end tables together, and laid out individual pages of notes. When the tables ran out of room, she continued organizing them on the ground, widening our circle.

  "What is this?"

  "An incomplete framework for accomplishing our mission. Like any large task, it's important to break it down into small, actionable chunks. There are still too many gaps in my knowledge regarding Aclana's factions and politics to consider it complete."

  My eyes flicked over the wealth of information.

  She had broken down the monumental task of cleansing the world's corruption, starting with Ingcaster, which was reduced further into individual phases.

  Phase one involved establishing a base of operations, and identifying the city's criminal factions, noble houses, guilds, and mercenary companies. I saw Black Diamond, Soul Viper, Pearl Banner, the Gilded Boar, and more scribbled down, spanning several pages.

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  Seizing Ingcaster's criminal underworld was baked into her plan, but didn't come up until phase two.

  Looks like I've skipped a few steps.

  Her notes for conquering Daven Murpharion's operations were much more nuanced than the approach I had taken thus far. She suggested turning lieutenants against their leaders, exposing secrets to rivals, and installing puppet leaders.

  There was an entire page dedicated to keeping the criminal network operational, but ethically constrained. Viessa's third and fourth phase were missing several bullet points compared to the first two. Phase three focused on snuffing out the most corrupt nobles by destroying their financial backbone, and even brainstormed ideas on how to do so with blackmail, market manipulation, and more. The fourth phase focused on influencing and shaping the political landscape.

  The fifth phase had one word written underneath it—Purge.

  "It's still a work in progress."

  "Excuse me, what are we looking at?" Veigan asked.

  And just like that, his question sparked a three hour lecture from Viessa. I zoned in and out while she caught them up to speed on her notes, not explaining why this was our mission or how we had kicked off the apocalypse.

  "As you can all see, this is only the barest of details, a plan in its infancy. I'm still missing too much critical data to consider this anything more than wishful thinking."

  "I thought you worked at a library?" I asked.

  "No, I told you I was Elmheart Library's vice-record keeper."

  For some reason that tidbit of information blew Garik and Veigan's minds. Their postures straightened right up. OK, a librarian was as noble a profession as any, but from their reactions organizing and maintaining books ranked up there with performing open-heart surgery.

  "You held a high ranking position within Elmheart?" Veigan asked.

  "Yes. I assisted with logistics and planning. I cannot say more without violating my oath." Viessa looked down with a sore longing.

  I raised my hand. "Hold on. You weren't putting books back on their shelves and processing late fees? I thought you studied magic."

  "I minored in magic. A majority of my studies focused on pattern analysis and predictive modeling. How to read political, economic, and military trends. I specialize in information management."

  "Elmheart is the elven equivalent of R.I.G.I.D.," Veigan said, like it would offer me some clarity.

  I stared, dumbfounded.

  Veigan pinched his brow together, and let out a pained sigh. "Royal Internal Guard and Intelligence Department."

  "She's a spy," Garik said.

  Viessa coughed. "I was only ever in the field once and it was only in a strategic support capacity..."

  "Elmheart is responsible for more regime changes than I can count. You know what Aclanians say about the elves? Be grateful their homeland lies beyond Kalistan because if Onadell touched our border, they'd own us."

  Veigan paced back and forth. "Cyprus, if you weren't so spectacularly unaware I'd assume you were working for the elves, which would at least make a modicum of sense. Too bad I know better."

  Garik burst into a booming laughter that echoed throughout the loft. He wiped a tear from his eye, grinning wide. "Thank you, Boss, for this opportunity. I look forward to watching your destiny unfold."

  You’re welcome?

  I was still digesting the elf's info dump. Although she considered her plan incomplete, it was more comprehensive than anything I had come up with. Winging it with brute force, and steamrolling the issues as they appeared, had been my recent modus operandi.

  Once upon a time, I moved tactically on Earth. Finding targets online. Observing them from afar, sometimes for weeks before striking. Yeah, it wasn't the pinnacle of strategy. But it was more than what I'd done since obtaining these ridiculous powers. Still, organizing something of this scale remained out of my wheelhouse.

  Watching Viessa breakdown such an insurmountable objective across several sheets of paper, shifted my entire perspective. The burden of forming a complex plan faded. I could focus on what I did best. Destruction and fear.

  The elf drained a canteen and plopped back into her seat. "I wish you had told me you planned on killing Daven last night." She held up Kelfloss's ledger. "I've outlined some key personnel. But there are far too many details missing. Seizing their operations now would be premature. I'm still missing pieces of Aclana's political landscape. If only this were Kalistan... Or if we had more time. I wish I could've waited longer to present this…"

  "No, I'm impressed. Great work."

  "Um, what does she mean by more time?" Veigan raised his eyebrows. "Is this a race?"

  The elf bit her tongue, realizing she let too much slip. But she had done enough heavy lifting, so I intervened.

  "I don't like focusing on one thing for too long. Otherwise, I get bored. That's why I've imposed a time-limit. I figure conquering Ingcaster's underworld should take no more than three days."

  "Right—of course." Veigan leaned back in the lounge chair. "Now what? Murpharion's dead. Unstoppable or not, you can't be everywhere at once. How do you plan on taking control of what you don't understand?"

  "Last night, as I stood outside of his room, moments away from splitting him open, I saw the bigger picture." I stood up from the trunk I had been sitting on, tipped it over, and popped it open.

  Daven Murpharion’s bloodshot eyes snapped open. No words escaped past the sock stuffed in his mouth. Sweat matted hair clung to his cheeks, hands tied tight behind his back with a torn bed sheet. The sock muffled his pained howls as he wormed his way out of the trunk, broken ankles swollen like overripe fruit.

  "What did you do to him?" Veigan grimaced. “He’s half-dead, I can barely sense his mana.”

  "I gently dislocated his shoulders, and adjusted his ankles so he'd fit."

  I grabbed a rope, threw it over one of the ceiling's support beams and strung Daven up in the center of the loft. My three allies stood around him as the noble swung back and forth.

  The noble's face said it all. Silent vows to kill each of us slowly, end our bloodlines, torture our pets, and burn our toast for the rest of eternity. At least that's what I imagined him thinking.

  I turned to Viessa, who was horrified. "He doesn't deserve an ounce of remorse. This fucker wants to burn our bread!"

  Veigan mumbled incoherently, heart racing as he shook his head in a trance.

  "The three of you can take the day off. Relax, sleep in shifts. Then squeeze him until he's filled these knowledge gaps. Ask him anything you like. If he doesn't answer, give his ankles a swift kick."

  "You can also stab him. Viessa can always heal him. Just put a tarp underneath him. Oh, try to avoid his arteries. We don't want any splash back messing up our new place."

  "Where are you going?" Viessa asked. "Is it your stomach issue?"

  "No... My stomach's settled. You know what questions to ask him, my presence is wasted here." I turned to Veigan. "You used to sign off on different tortures all the time back in Black Diamond. Now you can finally get your hands dirty."

  Garik raised his hand.

  "Yes?"

  "What about my assignment?"

  "Make sure Daven doesn't try anything."

  The giant nodded.

  "I'm going to take a micro-nap before heading out."

  I sat down, activated Void Seer and manifested a third tether on the ceiling, wondering if there was a limit to the feature. Despite being nowhere close, I still sensed the active tethers in Daven's mansion, and Kelfloss's warehouse.

  I ended Void Seer, popped up from the chair, and used Dagger Step, teleporting outside, behind the building. I walked alongside the stolen stagecoach, finding privacy and plenty of shadows.

  "Fayador."

  The dog poked its snout out through my shadow. "Yes, Master of Heroes?"

  "Better, but not so grandiose next time?"

  "Noted."

  "I want you to stick to the shadows inside and watch Daven closely. He is a level seven after all. If he makes any move or you sniff an attack, please tear his throat out and go back into hiding. That would probably be for the best."