When Arz awoke the next morning, he couldn’t stop thinking about pancakes. Something about the warm, fluffiness and the sweet shock of syrup lingered from his unknowable dreams.

  A craving unlike any other. He threw his door open, determined to find a place to eat some pancakes, when he came face to face with a group of guards with Orikori standing a few steps behind.

  The oldest looking of the guards stood out front. He took off his black cap. “Good morning. I am Alzidius, sergeant of the Bralincote Grand Guards.”

  “We need a new name for you all,” Arz muttered.

  Alzidius ignored the comment. He was about Arz’s age and had scruff that was turning gray. His hair was kept short. And since it was already thin, much of his scalp was visible. Alzidius carried a sword on his hip and a musket in his arms.

  Arz looked past the older man at Isilhorn, who stood to attention with near-perfect posture.

  “I believe you are acquainted with Isilhorn,” Alzidius said, gesturing to his left. The young man bowed his head, then stood back at attention.

  “We are acquainted. In fact, my request with the Guild was that Isilhorn was in charge of whatever little retinue I dug up for support on some of my adventures. And when I look at this, it sure looks like Isilhorn is following your commands.”

  Alzidius let a small smile curl his lips. “I am his sergeant. He’s done well to gain your interest, though he is still a new recruit and needs more training.”

  Arz raised an eyebrow.

  Isilhorn nodded behind Alzidius’s shoulder.

  “Fine. Continue.”

  “And this is Khoribin.”

  The man on Alzidius’s right tilted his chin to Arz. He was the opposite of Isilhorn. Khoribin didn’t care. He had been part of the guard long enough to lose his enthusiasm. His uniform had creases and stains, and his shirt wasn’t even fully tucked in. A long time ago, it would have made Arz angry. Now, he found humor in the man’s contempt.

  “Alzidius, Khoribin, and Isilhorn,” Arz paused, “And Orikori.”

  The scribe smiled broadly.

  “We are going to travel to Doumenus. I almost died on Doumenus the last time I went, but I wasn’t prepared. Now,” he said, tapping the lava vials, “I have a plan. I need to collect a few things. Very important things. Enough that we are going to risk our lives to get them. Luckily, I know where they are. These vials are just for the robots if we run into them. If we do, don’t stand still. Their weapons shoot faster than yours but they aren’t very precise. We should be able to dodge most of their shots if we are ready. Does anyone have questions?”

  “We’re actually going through a portal?” Khoribin asked. His eyebrows were skewed. The man didn’t believe it was possible.

  “Yes, we are. And, unfortunately, we can’t take our time with it. Once I open it, it will pull us inside. One important thing. The cities are locked in time bubbles. Don’t touch the bubble. I don’t know what will happen if you do, but we should not find out. Not at all. I likely won’t be able to save you if you touch it. Do you understand?”

  All four nodded silently.

  “Good. Give me a moment to prepare the portal. Gather anything you need and stand behind me when you’re ready.” Arz looked at his pajamas and frowned. “You know, I actually have a hankering for pancakes. Any of you ever hanker?”

  All he got were weird looks.

  “We’ll take that as a yes. I’m going to get dressed and feed Sal. In the meantime, why don’t one of you go fetch some pancakes?”

  “You have a messenger, sir,” Orikori said.

  Arz, who was halfway through closing the door on their faces, paused. “I do?”

  “Bostanor is just down the hall. Would you like me to fetch him?”

  “Can a messenger fetch things too?”

  Orikori nodded.

  Alzidius looked uncertain, but he had the manners not to say anything. Arz could live with that. Judgemental but quiet was perfectly fine.

  “Can you handle that?” Arz asked as he continued closing the door.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Arz latched the door and immediately ran over to his armoire and changed into whatever clothes he managed to lay hands on. He took the opportunity to gather his ingredients early, making sure to grab the vials of lava, reinforced return potions, and anything else he had added to the ‘useful’ pile.

  The more important step was stashing away a few larger containers in his backpack. He set others aside for Orikori. The scribe wasn’t exactly a pack mule, but . . . someone could be two things.

  Bostanor arrived a while later with a platter of breakfast foods. The messenger, who Arz realized he had seen stalking about the tower, was older than Isilhorn, but younger than Arz. His long hair was tied back and his facial hair was somehow both stubble and too long.

  “Thanks,” Arz said, taking the food.

  “Anything you need.” Bastanor bowed. “I have been given residence down the hall for your convenience.”

  “Oh. Great. Thanks.” Arz waved the guards and Orikori over from the awkward position they had taken in the hall. “Dig in.”

  There was way too much food for just Arz, and now looking upon the platter again, he wondered if Orikori had asked for more on purpose for this exact reason.

  It raised a lot of questions, and yet, he didn’t care enough to ask. Isilhorn had a lot to ask, and Orikori had a lot to say. By the time they were all done eating, Orikori still had half a plate left since he refused to talk with food in his mouth.

  The guards all checked their weapons over and listened to a little speech from Alzidius.

  Within an hour, everyone was ready to go. Arz had a belt full of items, ranging from his new lava vials to his boosted return potions. He hoped to achieve even more than just collecting darkfire oil on the journey, so he made sure to bring along all of his Jumthin ingredients, some red oil, and more rainbow salt.

  Arz spread Storm Tree paste across his workstation and let some Celestial Essence settle on top. He held one of his molten silver vials and scratched his head.

  “Is something wrong?” Orikori asked.

  “Well, I kind of forgot that I needed one of these Drops for this recipe. I also needed silverwater.” Arz swirled the molten silver around. “Technically, this has both.”

  “Are you just going to pour it on your table?” Alzidius asked.

  Arz shrugged. “Nobody said alchemy had to be complicated.”

  “Permission to speak?” Khoribin asked.

  “What?” Arz scowled. “Yeah, talk. Don’t ask to talk.”

  “Aren’t you a Wizard, sir?”

  Orikori cleared his throat, getting the young man’s attention before Arz had a chance to start his lecture. “Master Kurana only prefers to be called Arz.”

  “Do you listen to yourself?” Arz asked.

  Orikori only smiled.

  “Don’t call him that,” Isilhorn said. “Just Arz.”

  “The captain made you sound intimidating.” Khoribin scratched at his stomach, further wrinkling his untucked uniform.

  That simple line brought a wicked smirk to Arz’s face. “Intimidating, huh? Oh, Higgrion would secretly be scared of me. That old sack of shit doesn’t even know what he’s saying. I’ve never even threatened him. Well, at least not directly.” Arz paused. “I might be lying. But, I couldn’t be happier to learn that he’s scared. Oh, wow. That makes me happy.”

  “Are we going through the portal?” Alzidius asked.

  “Oh, sure.” Arz carefully pulled the cork out. “Be ready to fall.”

  “Fall?” Alzidius asked.

  “It’s only a few feet. Just land upright and you’ll be fine.”

  Alzidius and Khoribin asked more questions as Arz wiggled his eyebrows at them and poured the molten silver onto his work station. It splashed at first, causing him to step away as silver splashed onto the floor and quickly cooled. After about half of the vial settled onto the surface, the Celestial Essence sparked and exploded into a portal.

  “In we go!” Arz waved the others along as the portal pulled him in.

  A city grew to life in front of Arz. Even a mile away, the buildings looked too big. He had spent days near the bubble and still, it was difficult to believe a city so grand had existed. And sometimes still does exist.

  The fall from the portal was less jarring than the last time. For one, he was expecting it. And second, he didn’t have a vial explode in his hand.

  Arz landed on his feet and hopped forward in anticipation of the others falling through.

  Two footsteps smashed into the paved road to Arz’s side, in the direction of the glass cliffs. He held his breath, listening closely, as if it would prevent what was about to happen.

  A phrase he still did not understand was spoken in a tinny, robotic voice.

  Arz pulled the full lava vial from his belt and spun to face the robot. The AZ-32 with a missing arm aimed its gun right at Arz’s chest. He dropped to his knees, smashing them on the pavement. A beam of green light passed right over his head. Arz swore he felt hairs on top of his head curl as they burned from the light.

  “Sergeant!” Isilhorn caught Alzidius as the guard fell back.

  “Shit,” Arz stumbled forward into a crawl as another beam shot right over his head. He couldn’t even spare the time to spin around. Hopefully the others didn’t stand in the way. The lava burned in Arz’s palm, which already was raw enough from the last time he burned it. After one more shot, Arz jumped up and threw the vial.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The AZ-32s glowing eyes tracked the bright vial, but it did nothing to move aside as the glass shattered against its upper chest. Molten silver splashed over the robot. Its metal body melted almost immediately under the heat. Whatever kept it together internally turned to lava as the whole robot collapsed in a heap. Arz ran the last two steps forward and kicked the gun aside as the robot’s three arms continued twitching. It said the same phrase one more time before the light in its eyes flickered and faded altogether.

  “It worked,” he whispered. The Drop of Heaven was what he actually needed. He just needed something to house the heat. There had to be something cheaper than silverwater.

  Arz looked over his shoulder. Orikori was lying on the ground, having dropped as a shot flew past at the same time as he appeared. Khoribin and Isilhorn stood with muskets aimed out, flanking both sides of their downed sergeant. There was a fist-sized hole still burning through Alzidius’s shoulder.

  Arz scowled and grabbed the gun. “It was waiting for us.” He approached slowly, watching Isilhorn break his rigid focus. The young man dropped to the sergeant’s side. “Is he going to be okay?”

  Khoribin glared at Arz through the corner of his eye, but didn’t speak.

  Alzidius was conscious and swearing repeatedly under his breath. He sat up with a wince.

  “You alive?” Arz asked.

  “Heart’s still beating.” He touched his hand to the hole and carefully pulled it back. “No blood. That thing burned right through me.”

  “We’re going to keep going?” Orikori asked as he continued furiously writing.

  “I told you it was dangerous. There’s a dozen more robots, so we better get moving. They’re mostly on this road, so once we get onto the hill beside the city, we should mostly be free to roam as needed. Can you stand? I’d get you back home now, but I don’t know if I can open a portal yet.”

  “I can stand.” Alzidius reached his right hand up and grasped Khoribin’s. The guard pulled his sergeant up and gently patted his back. “Arz is right, boys. He said it was dangerous and we might’ve underestimated him.” He gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath. “It’s either this or patrol. What do you say?”

  “Yes, sir,” Isilhorn said.

  Arz held the robot’s gun out to Khoribin. He turned his nose up at it until he looked back at the burning wound in Alzidius’s shoulder. His musket hung from a strap over his shoulder as he awkwardly grabbed the metal weapon.

  “I would give you advice on how to use it, but I think you are more familiar with such a tool.” Arz grabbed Orikori’s arms and pulled the small scribe to his feet. “Are you sure you want to be here?”

  “Absolutely, Master Kurana.”

  Arz ignored the incorrect title. Everyone was shaken. The last thing any of them needed was a stern scolding from Arz.

  “Are you capable of carrying him?” Arz asked Isilhorn.

  Isilhorn moved to support the sergeant, but Alzidius pushed him away.

  “I’m not helpless, but I may be slow. I’ll cover the scribe, you two keep Arz safe.”

  Isilhorn nodded.

  “Stay behind me,” Arz said quietly to Khoribin. “Protect the others.”

  “Yes, sir.” He moved slower under the weight of the robot’s gun, but with Alzidius shuffling along, Khoribin would move plenty quickly.

  Arz could feel the anger from Khoribin, but then, who wouldn’t be angry after seeing someone get shot? It felt like a jolt, like Arz somehow lied or betrayed them. Arz knew that feeling well. He would take the blame the guards sent his way because everybody needed an outlet.

  The city constructed itself again, standing momentarily before its grand collapse. Arz wondered how long it took from creation to destruction when time was moving normally. It seemed like the whole city’s lifespan was about ten minutes, which wasn’t possible. In all likelihood, the tallest of the buildings likely stood for hundreds, if not thousands of years. But now time looped back and forth, constructing and reversing, collapsing and rebuilding. Even if plants grew within the bubble, they were impossible to see with how quickly time moved.

  Orikori stumbled on the paved road, barely catching himself before smacking his face. Most of his attention was on his notebook as he sketched the city and wrote notes underneath. Khoribin stayed focused, sweeping his vision across the horizon with the barrel of the robot’s gun following his eyes. Wherever he looked, so did the weapon. Isilhorn stalked beside Arz on the other side. His musket would likely be more than useless, but it at least gave them a blunt weapon, should they need it.

  Having a group of people following him was new. Arz wasn’t sure what to think of it. He didn’t know any of them well yet, but going on an adventure with anybody else was exciting. Isilhorn and Orikori had been great, and he was excited for them to experience real adventure outside of Bralincote. Outside of Earth.

  The city collapsed in a cloud of dust. Shards of glass blew through the air, reflecting the gray-purple shimmer of the time bubble.

  “How often does it do that?” Orikori asked as he hurried up to Arz’s side.

  “Constantly. Looping again and again. Give it a moment and we will see the foundations and scaffolding.” He nodded toward the bubble as the first signs of construction appeared.

  “You haven’t been inside?”

  They reached the edge of the city where the road turned away from the shimmering bubble. It wasn't much farther to Arz’s original hiding spot. Familiar robotic footsteps reached his ears early enough that Arz shushed everybody. The time bubble hummed beside them with unknown energy, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the clank of footsteps.

  “That sounds like two of them,” Arz guessed. The footsteps weren’t perfectly in sync. “Isilhorn, lead Orikori and Alzidius along the bubble to where the land starts to slope down. Stay low.”

  “Shouldn’t we all go?” Khoribin asked with the weapon already raised to his shoulder. His form was perfect, which contrasted sharply with his usual demeanor.

  The footsteps continued rhythmically.

  “They won’t get far enough before the AZ-32s come around.” Arz pulled out a sparkstone and a lava vial. “And if they start to chase us, the cave won’t be safe anymore.” When he turned around, Arz glared at Orikori. “What are you still doing here?”

  “You meant now?” The young scribe hurried after Isilhorn, who was already walking and waving for Orikori to catch up. Alzidius didn’t bother holding a weapon as he stayed behind Isilhorn. His injured arm was hanging and obviously causing him pain from the constant swearing and grunting.

  “Don’t touch the bubble, Orikori,” Arz said without looking again. The footsteps were getting too close.

  “I know, Master.”

  Arz rolled his eyes. He kept low and started forward, heading to the inside corner where the road turned. Khoribin stayed right beside him as he kept his aim pointed right where a robot head would emerge.

  “AZ-32,” he said while looking through the sights. “That’s what these are called?”

  “Yeah. They’re a type of metal person created by a dead race of people. At least, that’s what I understand.”

  “Last time you were here, they weren’t guarding the portal?”

  Arz could see where this was going. “No. I didn’t run into any until right here. They seem to have a patrol route. I don’t know what caused that one to wait near the portal.”

  “Captain said you don’t have a history of working with people,” Khoribin said. His grip tightened on the weapon as he let his breath out, steadying his arms. The footsteps were very close. Arz cast a glance back where Orikori, Isilhorn, and Alzidius were still hurrying alongside the bubble.

  “I don’t like putting people in danger.”

  Khoribin nodded. “This was a volunteer mission for all three of us. The Guild of Wizards really thinks you can change the world. Isilhorn really pleaded with us.”

  Arz scowled. The molten silver in his hand was starting to burn, even through the glass. He needed to store it away or throw it soon before his hand actually blistered under the heat.

  “Look, I appreciate your help, but I don’t know what I’m doing. If I can help people, I will, but I might just be a freak who can’t accomplish anything meaningful.”

  Khoribin looked over with an eyebrow raised. “That’s how you think of yourself?”

  “A little better than that, maybe. I want to make my daughter proud.”

  “Tell me more after this.” Khoribin dropped to one knee and focused his aim again.

  Arz felt a sense of safety with the guard so serious. There wasn’t a question or anything. He just wanted to know the story and he trusted Arz to tell him.

  If Arz were to make a list of people he truly trusted in the world, it would start and end with Sal.

  And even the eel had his moments.

  But people like Isilhorn and now Orikori and Khoribin were starting to scribble their names on that list.

  An AZ-32 head appeared around the corner. Khoribin fired the gun, blasting a beam of green light against the robot’s head as it leaned to look around the mound. It dented the metal, but the beam deflected off. The robot stumbled to the side as another hurried around the corner and fired wildly before it even managed to aim. Three beams hit the paved road in random spots, leaving molten rock where it struck.

  Khoribin continued firing at the first robot and kept it off balance. Each beam hit its chest or head and wore down the metal without fully melting through.

  At the same time, Arz took a few quick steps up the mound and slid down the other side. He threw the half-filled vial right at the back of the second robot. The molten silver splashed over its back and along the neck. More metal melted and ran down its body as it slowed. The Drop of Heaven burned through the robot’s neck, causing the head to roll off and smash into the ground.

  The first robot swung its gun to the side and smacked Arz in the forehead. It wasn’t quite strong enough to throw him off his feet, but it caused him to drop down to cover the injury with one hand.

  “He won’t die,” Khoribin shouted. The beams had worn holes into the AZ-32, revealing even more of its body. Arz threw the sparkstone up into its chest, where a cloud of sparks erupted. It froze for a second, which was long enough for Arz to reach inside. He tore two handfuls of metal veins out while ignoring the stinging shock of the sparkstone. The AZ-32 collapsed.

  Khoribin frowned as he looked over the weapon. “I saw what it did to Alzidius.”

  “Their weapons don’t really hurt them. Probably a good choice for them. It could still be helpful in the future.” Arz poked the nearest dead robot with his foot. “Imagine if humans were smart enough to make weapons that only hurt non-humans.”

  “We would’ve never made weapons,” Khoribin said. “Can you carry that one to Isilhorn?”

  Arz grabbed the hefty metal gun and picked it up with a grunt. “Oh, that isn’t light. Are you sure you want this if it won’t hurt the AZs?”

  “Like you said.” Khoribin adjusted his grip on the weapon. “It could be helpful later. I don’t know how I feel about you yet, but if the Guild is paying this much for you, you have to be worth something. I’ve heard stories from others, but you tell me yours as we walk.”

  Arz nodded. He wanted to be tough while carrying the gun, but there was no chance Khoribin would fall for it. Arz was visibly struggling under its weight, already sweating more from carrying the weapon than he had from fighting robots.

  “You’re uninjured, right?” Arz asked.

  They turned back to the bubble. Arz led the way by a step. Orikori and Isilhorn were out of sight, hopefully somewhere safe.

  “Not a scratch. It was you who ran right at the metal men.”

  Arz shrugged. “It worked.” They walked down the paved road, listening for robotic footsteps. “How about we wait with the story until the cave? If you, Isilhorn, and Alzidius might stick around, it would be good for you all to hear.”

  “That’s fine.”

  They stopped just off the road with the collapsing city beside them. Khoribin got uncomfortably close to the bubble. Arz had a few theories on what would happen. There were two main possibilities Arz had settled on, though he was far from ready to test them.

  “I’ve been thinking of them as Chronobubbles,” Arz said as Khoribin continued walking. “You can harvest part of the bubble like a fluid.”

  “Chronofluid,” Khoribin said.

  “Oh, I like that. We will need to repeat that to Orikori so he can note it down for us.”

  Arz hesitantly approached his old hideout and found some darkfire oil still burning underneath. He had left his mark, though it probably wasn’t a good one. As buildings formed to his side, he decided there could be worse marks one could leave on a planet. He cut off some more spiraltree roots and dropped them into his backpack. If he wanted to create some of his previous recipes, he would need the meat from inside those roots.

  “Watch this,” Arz said. He carefully held an empty vial sideways and let chronofluid flow inside until the glass vial was filled with shimmering gray fluid.

  “What happens if you touch that?”

  Arz held it up and swirled it around. “I have no idea. I don’t think now is a good time to find out.”

  They descended the slope. Alzidius, Orikori, and Isilhorn waited at the bottom near where the field of the stone reeds had been. But now, there was only blackened ground.

  “What happened there?” Khoribin asked.

  “I tried cleaning a spoon.” Arz sighed. “I wish that was a joke of some kind. It caught fire a little easier than I expected. It turns out, those reeds are great fire fuel.”

  “Looks like it.”

  Orikori waved excitedly upon spotting them.

  “Into the cave?” Isilhorn asked as he supported Alzidius.

  “Head on in. It should be safe, but listen closely just in case.”

  Isilhorn nodded, turned, and headed to the cave

  “What are those?” Orikori asked with his notebook out. “The guns?”

  “Yes.” Arz set it at his feet. “And a special reward will be the privilege of getting to carry this one.”

  “A reward?” Orikori finished writing some notes and stuffed the notebook into a breast pocket.

  “Okay, no. I just need you to carry it. My arms are exhausted.”

  “I’m surprised you survived on your own here,” Khoribin said. He was already headed to the cave, not even waiting for Arz to finish convincing Orikori to carry the gun. The little scribe picked it up and exhaled loudly.

  “This is not light.”

  “That’s what I said. Well, mostly.” Arz waved Orikori on and hurried to stay with Khoribin. The scribe waddled with the heavy weapon but managed to keep up.

  Isilhorn and Alzidius were already in the cave, so they descended inside, hurrying to the pool of darkfire oil.