BLOOD FLOODS FROM the shoulder wound as the orange monster drags Reynard into the marble streets. Through weakening eyes, he understands partially the Overlord’s plan. Above the city stretches a dome holding back dark-green water.

As his back touches the street, he paints the white coral with more blood as the sharp ends carve into his back, shredding his clan tattoo. His mind drifts toward sleep as his blood pressure drops.

No sleep. He closes his left hand and the katana appears. Two flicks of the blade, and the monsters dangles an arm stump toward Reynard, howling for vengeance. It lumbers away.

Great. Going to die at the bottom of some alien ocean. Bet no one at the class reunion will best that.

A bearded man in Roman scale armor crowned in gold yanks Reynard to his feet. “You accepted responsibility to fight evil.”

“You’re King Arthur?”

“I removed wickedness from my lands with this sword. You must do the same.”

Reynard fights against blacking out.

“Had you not grabbed the sword so quickly, we would’ve explained, allowing you to make a proper choice and then be instructed.”

“If you’re not a hallucination to just keep me from passing out—”

“You need instruction. Your weapon is more than a sword.”

“Now is not the time.” Reynard pushes King Arthur away. He fades in plumes of smoke. Heal. Left with nothing to squelch the bleeding tear.

“HEAL!”

The sword glows in golden flames. They crawl up Reynard’s arm, flashing from his left to his right, searing the wound closed.

The steel vanishes.

Leeka halts her advance on her champion.

Reynard’s attention shifts past the statues of sea creatures accented with diamonds to a grand cathedral decorated in coral, diamonds and more sea creatures. Atop the dome section of the structure rests a massive statue of a merman. He has no fish tail—instead, fins sprout from his legs. He wields a mighty three-pronged pitchfork embedded in the ground forming the archways over twin entrance archways. Beyond the buildings, a tube punctures the dome toward the surface into a shadowy leviathan shape.

Rolling his shoulder, Reynard detects no evidence of the wound. He races for the tube. Being made of durasteel or the Throgen equivalent, it mars the coral structures.

Leeka keeps on his heels.

The one-handed orange monster lumbers through the cathedral doors. It lacks a trail of blood as such a damaging wound should produce.

The audience chamber of the cathedral lacks benches before the jewel-encrusted throne.

Rising from the throne at Reynard’s entrance, a beastly creature expected to be greeted as some animal-headed Egyptian god. The humanoid bears little resemblance to anything short of a Chimera.

Even in his limited travels across the galaxy, Reynard has yet to encounter such a creature with hooves for feet, hairy tiger-like legs, a horned tail draped over the left arm of the throne and a graying mane that spouts from rusty chest armor. Two fangs protrude from his upper jaw. His left eye has been augmented with a robotic one and a distended cyber jack. Iron slave shackles decorate his wrists. It’s what’s around the monster’s waist that enrages Reynard. His gun belt dangles on the muscular hip, and the honored headband awarded to him by Joe’s Calthos clan is wrapped around the Overlord’s right palm.

“I’ve never encountered a two-armed male Calthos before.” The dome’s acoustics booms even the soft voice. He tosses Reynard’s jacket from the dais. “Many join Lances, but you are something else.”

Reynard doesn’t answer.

“Plotting how to kill me, Osirian?” the beast man bellows.

The orange creature halts at the bottom of the metal elevator shaft. More of the cybernetic humanoids load crates into a row of pods designed to launch the elevator shaft.

“You were able to damage a Grog—weaponless. Impressive. Makes you too dangerous to live.” Leaping from the throne, he swings an elongated cleaver blade.

Reynard doesn’t twist to avoid the blow the way the Overlord expected. Instead, his sword flashes into existence, blocking the blow and catching the humanoid off guard.

The next three blows parried are swift and powerful. Reynard’s Calthos training allows for easy blocking of the overzealous swings of the cleaver. The Overlord has no style or form, just a berserker hack-and-slash, slash-and-hack movement with the weapon.

Reynard wants to slip under the next blow and cut into the Overlord’s gut, but the exposing maneuver might fail under the powerful slices. He stays on the defensive.

The Overlord buries the cleaver in the coral floor so deep he’s unable to extract it. Releasing the handle, he howls, “I’ll snap your vertebrae one by one!”

Remaining lightheaded from the blood loss, Reynard keeps the humanoid at sword length. “Didn’t they issue you the super villain’s handbook? You’re supposed to gloat and tell me your dastardly plans before you try to kill me.”

Confused, the Overlord pauses before the pounce. The strange word did not translate the way Reynard meant. He opprobriumates with thin slashing cuts to the Overlord’s arms. Reynard dances back, continuing to tease the humanoid with cuts just deep enough to break the skin. Enraged, the Overlord grips his cleaver handle with both hands, yanking back. Reynard shatters the ground with his katana, releasing the cleaver. Off-balance, the Overlord tumbles back in an embarrassing display of incoordination.

Reynard tugs Leeka along behind him. Letting go of his sword in order to scoop up his jacket, he races for the elevator lift system. In one fluid motion, he flips the jacket around Leeka’s arms, placing her beside him as his sword dissects the closest cybernetic humanoid.

Anger reduces the Overlord’s reasoning skills. The rage-filled charge gives Reynard the advantage he wanted. Releasing the sword, he allows himself to fall backward at the Overlord’s proximity. Grappling the furry mane, he places his feet on the creature’s thighs, using the momentum to send the Overlord crashing into his cybernetic warriors while his free hand undoes the clasp to his gun belt.

Before the Overlord recovers, Reynard has his magnum pointed at the Throgen leader.

“Destroy me and—”

No hesitation. Reynard fires. Barking thunder resonates throughout the dome.

Leeka’s petrified face would accompany most humanoids with a puddle of urine.

The Overlord bleeds from a sucking chest wound. Two more of his cybernetic drones fall as durasteel rounds smash open their robotic braincases.

Discarded behind the throne, Reynard spots his pants. As he grabs them, the Overlord grunts. The Throgen general falls into the half-loaded cargo elevator pod. Reynard empties the magnum through the closing hatch.

Within seconds, the pod rockets up the tube.

Reynard slides into his pants as the next elevator pod locks into the tube. He snaps the gun belt around his waist before jamming in a fresh clip.

He tosses his boots into the elevator. Turning to Leeka, he knows she’s dismayed with his actions. Never before has she witnessed such horror. It hangs on her face like a child discovering Santa is a myth.

Rumbles rattle the city.

“Are you coming with me?”

“Yes, Master.”

Reynard seals the elevator hatch. He guesses the quakes radiating through the dome are the submerged battle cruiser breaking free of the tube. He jerks open wall panels until he locates breathing apparatus. He waves it at Leeka who appears perplexed at the constant unknown stimulus of her master’s world. With no time to explain, he jams the tube inside the facemask down her throat. She accepts his actions.

He jerks the second facemask, gagging on the insertion of the hose.

The pod shifts.

Reynard slaps the control, releasing the thrusters.

Plastered against the floor, he watches the ocean pressure dent the side of the now waterborne craft.

On the surface, the crew will find me.

He pulls himself along the floor until he reaches Leeka. Spooning next to her, he wraps himself around her, ensuring they are transported together.