Ezra leaned on the ridge surrounding the rooftop. Below them, Warehouse Fifteen stood firm in silence as the first rays of morning light descended from above. Watching and waiting, just as Wilfred had told him, Ezra listened to the sounds of a city beginning to wake up. A rustle here and there, a squeak as someone exited their home, and the rhythmic tap against metal as a Tarkin-tram glided along in the distance. He was watching for people approaching the warehouse and listening for the popping and rattling of a vehicle he had never seen before. Wilfred told him it was like a miniature Tarkin-tram and was called a Tark. It didn’t float like a Tarkin-tram but instead had wheels and was powered off of burning Decrite.

  Behind him, Wilfred continued to clean the barrel of his rifle with a neutral expression so heavy it almost tugged his mouth into a frown. “Anything yet?” He asked as Ezra stood up to stretch his legs.

  “Nope,” Ezra said with a yawn, stretching out his words. “You don’t think they’re onto us?”

  Wilfred’s expression finally turned to a frown. “There’s no reason they should be, but we can’t rule that out. For now, we wait a little longer.”

  “I’m more concerned about your plan if they do show up.” Milo perked up as he released a small pebble from his skill and turned his focus towards Wilfred. “We’re not here for you to babysit us. We came to help, so let us in on what you're going to do.”

  Wilfred remained quiet and furrowed his brow. Reattaching the barrel of the rifle, he leaned on the weapon to stand up and sighed. “When Marlaove arrives, I don’t know how many people will be with him. So I want everything to happen as fast as possible. Once I spot Marlaove, I’ll teleport down, grab him, and then teleport away. Before they know it, both of us will be gone.” Casually walking over to the center of the roof, he offered the rifle to either of them. “If anything goes wrong, that's where one of you comes in. If things get complicated, I need supporting fire. Do either of you know how to shoot a rifle?”

  Ezra looked towards the ground and reluctantly shook his head. I was the one who demanded to come with him, and now when he asks for help, I can’t do anything. He looked back before those dreadful thoughts weighed him down. Even if I can’t operate a rifle, I can figure something else out. I have Time Scale and the Thorinsphere.

  “I know a bit,” Milo said as he jumped up from the ground. “At least, what I saw from this guy we took the Morltin test with.” Ezra’s eyes widened as he remembered Erik and realized where Milo was going with this. “His skill worked well with a rifle, and he explained a bit about how his rifle worked to me. It could be a different model, but rifles are rifles; they can’t be too different from each other.”

  “We’ll have to work with that.” The lines on Wilfred’s face deepened as he handed over the rifle with caution. “Just try to not aim it near me. Have you ever fired one?”

  “No, but it can’t be that difficult.”

  Wilfred smoothed out the stress lines on his forehead as he took a deep breath. “The kickback is going to hit hard, and it may mess up your aim.” After scanning the area around them, Wilfred’s gaze returned to Milo. “You know what. I’ll give you a few practice shots, just not here. We can’t give away our position.” He motioned Milo over and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and tilted his head towards Ezra. “We’ll only be gone for a few minutes. Keep watch and message immediately if anything happens.”

  They left before Ezra could get in another word, so he plopped down on the rooftop and diligently kept his eyes on the warehouse. A whirlwind of thoughts passed through Ezra’s mind; every scenario he played out of Faulpher-tek arriving before Wilfred and Milo got back ended in disaster. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he reached into his pant pockets and withdrew the Thorin-sphere. Not a single blemish on its surface, the metallic sheen reflected the beams of dawn as Ezra began to consider the actual possibilities afforded to him.

  What could I craft? Opening up the menu, he looked over the items stored within. There was the vibro-crystal gun and a sword he had picked up from the camp on the second layer, the long spear he had crafted, and various pieces of junk he had obtained when walking back from Theal’neblis. Then the supplies from their backpacks. Pots and pans, another length of rope, tents, a whetstone, some fire starters, and two daggers. Ezra hummed in thought, imagining the useful combinations. All of it was only guesswork; in reality, there was no way of knowing what it would make until he tried it.

  Glancing down, a gleaming copper bullet caught his eye, and an idea sparked. Tapping the Thorin-sphere against it, the bullet promptly appeared in his inventory. After selecting the fire starter and bullet, another screen appeared.

  Would you like to craft a sparked bullet, lvl 3?

  [Yes] [No]

  Curiously, it was one level higher than the long spear. Maybe it’s the quality of materials, Ezra wondered as he selected yes. The symbol of a bullet streaked in lines of gray material popped into an open square at the end of his inventory.

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  Before he could select it, Milo and Wilfred suddenly appeared in front of him. Milo stumbled forward a couple of steps before regaining his balance by placing the butt of the rifle against the ground.

  “He’s a decent shot. With time, he could really be something,” Wilfred said as he settled down next to Ezra, his eyes locked on the road in front of the warehouse. “Anything happen?”

  Ezra closed the Thorin-sphere menu. “No, not yet.”

  “Any minute now, he’ll show. I know it.” Wilfred narrowed his gaze, trying to see as far as possible. “Marlaove’s better with time than me. If he’s scheduled to be here, he won’t be a minute late.”

  Milo crouched down and balanced the tip of the rifle against the knee-high wall surrounding the roof. Grabbing the barrel, Wilfred shoved it down and glared at Milo. “Not until they arrive. You’ll give away our position.”

  Milo raised his eyebrows in surprise but complied by lowering the rest of the rifle. Quite washed over them, and the sounds of the morning continued. Wilfred seemed too relaxed for such a tense situation. The focus was definitely there, but other than his face, the rest of Wilfred’s body had no visible tension. I guess that’s his experience showing. We can’t mess this up. That thought terrified him, and he wondered if it scared Wilfred, too.

  “I know you’ve been looking for Marlaove for months, but what are you going to do once you rescue him?” Milo asked, breaking the hushed scene.

  Wilfred chewed his lip, pondering his answer. “First, I’m going to make the bastard tell me what the hell he’s been doing these past months. I trust him, but this is unusual, and after chewing him out, well then…”

  They all turned their gaze towards the street once the sound of rattling vehicles reached them. Five Tarks plodded towards the warehouse, each of them a dull dark green. One a little larger than the rest led the pack, and although the windows were slightly darkened, Ezra could make out two people in the front, Tark.

  Milo began to raise the rifle, but Wilfred put up a hand to block the muzzle from reaching over the wall. “Not yet. Once I’m on the ground.”

  One by one, the Tarks slowed to a stop in front of the warehouse, and doors clicked open. Several people with tight-fitting armor segmented across vulnerable points on their bodies got out of the smaller vehicles. Some had vibro-crystal pistols at their side, while others carried swords with glowing hilts, similar to the ones carried by the Terras when he entered Subterris. A few had no visible weapons.

  At last, a man different than the rest stepped out of the larger Tark. He wore a crumpled suit that likely hadn’t been ironed in weeks, and although he carried himself with confidence, his eyes darted around with nervous energy. His blond hair, which faded to brown in some places, was cut cleanly to try and make up for the rest of his appearance. Adjusting his glasses, he grabbed a clipboard from the Tark before shutting the door with a booming thud.

  Even before the thud dissipated, Wilfred appeared beside the man and grabbed him before anyone could jump in response. Then, a familiar sense washed over Ezra as he realized Wilfred still hadn’t moved. Marlaove—he presumed it was Marlaove—who else could it be?—tugged at Wilfred’s grasp as his mouth hung open in shock. It was then Ezra saw it. On the hood of one of the Tarks, a man pressed a strange device made of several intersecting loops.

  The sensation felt just like the time his skill had been paused during the Morltin test.

  Wilfred pivoted and let go of Marlaove as a knife dug into his flesh. Holding firm, he thrust his elbow into the attacker's face and swept his feet. More and more people were beginning to exit the other Tarks, and the realization of their situation erupted throughout the crowd.

  “You need to stop watching and shoot,” Ezra said, his voice shaking as he nudged Milo.

  Milo blinked and raised the rifle. “Y…you’re right. But where? There’s so many of them.”

  Ezra surveyed the chaos before an idea struck like lightning. Opening the Thorin-sphere inventory, a bullet dropped into his hands seconds later. “Try this.” Ezra held up the bullet.

  “What does it do?” Milo asked, still trying to pick a target as Wilfred slammed another person into the door of a Tark.

  “I’m not one hundred percent, but just trust me. Try aiming it towards that device down there.”

  “Ok,” Milo responded with confidence in Ezra’s words as he took the bullet and loaded it into the rifle. The other loaded bullets clattered on the ground.

  Ezra’s heart pumped louder and louder as Milo aimed and Wilfred weaved between attacks. More people from Faulpher-tek swarmed. Ezra forced himself to watch Wilfred’s desperate struggle until Milo finally pulled the trigger.

  Rocking from the recoil, Milo winced. Several people looked up, but the device remained unharmed. A pit deeper than the Abyss was tall sunk into Ezra’s stomach as he noticed a hole piercing the side of the Tark, Decrite oozing from the mechanical wound. Milo missed.

  Yet before he could blink again, the Tark ruptured in shrieking metal and roaring fire. Ezra instinctively covered his ears and curled up behind the wall surrounding the roof. Wilfred ducked for cover as many others did the same while flames spread across the road and licked the sides of the warehouse.

  Then came the shouting as Ezra raised his head to behold the destruction. People darted about while he frantically searched for Wilfred or Marlaove. It didn’t take long before he saw Wilfred stomping out flames on his gray coat, yet he still couldn’t see Marlaove. Doors to two Tarks further away from the rest slammed closed as one of the Faulpher-tek mercenaries shoved the suited man into the back seat. As the engines roared to life, Wilfred brushed soot off his face and discarded his tattered coat. The look on his face told Ezra one thing. He was not letting them get away.

  Before Ezra could shout, he was gone, and then on top of the roof of the Tark Marlaove was in. One more Tark, still intact, remained, and Ezra glanced over to Milo. They both knew what they had to do next.