The silence of Grand Rapids was like the kind in a tomb before the lid is sealed.

  We walked down the center of the main thoroughfare. The architecture here was monolithic. Slabs of black and white stone rose into the air, blocking out the sun. There were no windows on the lower levels, only rock.

  "It’s a mausoleum," Bells noted, his voice tight. He was hovering ten feet above us, drifting on a current of wind, his eyes scanning the rooftops. "I hate it. Give me a fortress with guns any day. At least guns are honest."

  "Keep your eyes open," I said. "Honesty isn't the currency here."

  I walked in the center of the formation. Around me, a ten meter circle of soil moved with my steps, sliding over the pavement like a living shadow. I wasn't taking chances now that I knew about Qolius’s "nukes." No one was getting within 10 meters of me.

  Frank jogged up and pointed a thumb at the buildings lining the street.

  "It’s bad zoning," Frank said, shaking his head. "I've scanned three blocks yet no residential. Every building is a temple, a hospital, or a barracks. There’s no infrastructure for life here."

  "Three million people don't live on prayer," I said. "Keep looking."

  We pushed deeper into the city of stone and passed massive statues of robed figures with no faces. Their hands were raised to the sky and next to them were fountains that poured pink liquid.

  We reached the center of the city where the pink star tipped tower dominated the skyline.

  We tried the doors of the tower. Sealed.

  Frank placed his hand on the doors and frowned.

  "Impossible to open," Frank muttered. "It’s an array, sure, but it’s written in gibberish."

  We had been walking for forty minutes and still hadn't seen a single soul.

  "Stop," I ordered.

  The divisions halted and the men stood in the empty street, looking at me.

  "This city is too dense," I said, looking at the tower. "If we go door-to-door, we’ll be clearing rooms for months and get bogged down in urban warfare."

  "So what’s the play?" Bells asked, dropping down to hover at my shoulder. "Burn it down?"

  "No," I said. "If they won't come out, we dig in and force them to react."

  I pointed to a large, open plaza.

  "Set up camp," I commanded.

  An hour passed.

  The soldiers were professional. They set up the perimeter, established firing lines with their bamboo bows, and waited, but the silence was eating at them.

  "Movement!" Joakim shouted from the flank. "Everywhere!"

  They poured out of the side streets like a white flood. Robed cultists. Thousands of them.

  They stopped fifty yards from our line and threw themselves onto the pavement.

  They began to drum, slamming their hands against the stone in perfect unison.

  The sky darkened rapidly and rain clouds swirled directly over the plaza while the temperature dropped twenty degrees.

  Thunder cracked, syncing with the drums.

  "Here comes the circus," Bells muttered.

  A light flared in the clouds and a chariot descended. It was made of fire, burning with a pink flame and lowered slowly.

  Standing in the chariot was a man.

  He wore robes of pink that clashed violently with the monochrome city. On his face was a mask—a morbid, carved smile that stretched too wide, painted with fresh red pigment.

  He was by four minions—two in white masks, two in black.

  The chariot stopped thirty feet in the air.

  "You have angered the Divine," the man’s voice said. "You bring chaos to order and confusion to understanding."

  "Qolius," I said.

  "Retribution," Qolius continued, tilting his masked head, "shall be quick."

  He leaped.

  He dropped thirty feet and landed softly on the pavement, his robes settling around him like water as his four minions landed in a square formation around him.

  The drumming, chanting and screaming stopped.

  One of the minions in a black mask stepped forward. He was huge and his chest expanded as he inhaled a breath that seemed to suck the air out of the plaza.

  He screamed a single word.

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  "BOW!"

  A visible shockwave of Qi rippled out from his mouth and tore up the pavement, shattering the windows of the surrounding buildings.

  The shockwave hit me.

  I stumbled back, my boots sliding on the soil.

  I looked at Qolius.

  He stood there, arms wide, soaking in the devastation.

  "Is that it?" I whispered.

  I straightened my back.

  Qolius turned his masked face toward me and for the first time, his movements hesitated.

  "You..." Qolius said. "Why do you stand?"

  "Because I have legs," I said.

  "Grow."

  My soil circle exploded outward.

  A massive Bamboo Watchtower shot up from the earth beneath my feet, lifting me thirty feet into the air as I looked down at them.

  "Sky Piercer."

  The bamboo rails of the tower mutated and wood hardened, forming banks of organic missile pods.

  "Fire," I commanded.

  A volley of fifty wooden stakes, hardened to the density of iron, launched.

  Qolius shrieked. "Defend!"

  The four minions scrambled. They weren't prepared for resistance and moved clumsily, their terrifying aura shattering the moment they had to dodge.

  Two of the minions were clipped, the bamboo tearing through their robes and flesh.

  "Impossible!" Qolius screeched, his voice cracking. "The Voice compels all! You are a heretic! A demon with no soul!"

  "I'm just deaf to your bullshit," I shouted.

  I launched another volley.

  Qolius' minions grabbed him by the arms and ran toward the rear of the plaza.

  "He’s fleeing?" I asked, stunned. "He creates a storm, yells, and then runs at the first sign of resistance?"

  "Does he think I am going to let him get away?" I said.

  I jumped from the tower and landed on a wave of moving soil and surfed across the plaza, cutting off their escape route.

  I slammed into the rear of the plaza just as they reached the stairs.

  "Spear."

  Ten stalks of bamboo came from my mobile soil patch and launched.

  The spears hit the minions in the shoulders and thighs, pinning them to the walls of the plaza.

  Qolius fell backward into the mud and scrambled away from me, his pink robes stained brown.

  I walked toward him slowly.

  "Nice show," I said. "But I expected something more."

  Qolius pressed his back against the wall and looked up at me.

  "What kind of Devil are you?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

  I signaled to Bells. “Finish the deed.” I said.

  No response.

  I paused and looked around.

  There was no one next to me outside of Qolius and his minions.

  I looked back to the camp we set up in the plaza.

  My army was crumbled.

  I watched in horror as men clutched their heads, their bodies convulsing, foam spilling from their lips, eyes rolling back into their heads.

  "Make it stop!" a soldier screamed, clawing at his own ears. "I see it! I see the light!"

  Bells was on his knees, trembling, his hands pressed against his temples, his teeth gritted so hard I could hear them cracking.

  "Get... out..." Bells wheezed, blood dripping from his nose. "Get... out of my head!"

  Frank was curled in a fetal position, sobbing and Joakim was staring blankly at the sky, drooling.

  My entire army was neutralized.

  I had been so focused on Qolius that I didn’t even notice that I was the only one left standing.

  It clicked.

  The reason why Qolius was so shocked and caught off guard.

  Qolius's power was real and terrifyingly effective. He had neutralized multiple Realm 3 cultivators and three entire divisions with a single word.

  Actually, it wasn’t even him but his minion.

  For some reason though, his power did not work on me.

  "You aren't weak," I realized aloud. "You're stronger than any opponent I have faced so far. Well, outside of White Hill."

  I looked at Qolius.

  Realizing the magnitude of his power changed things.

  I could kill him. It would be easy. I could take his head, destroy his cult, and claim the city.

  But then what?

  Three million brainwashed zealots. Three million people who would riot, burn the city, and starve to death rather than serve the man who killed their god. The Franchise Model relied on 51% equity and cooperation. You can’t franchise a religion.

  It would also be a waste to kill a man so powerful.

  I then thought about the conversation with Aiya.

  Grace was overthrown.

  Eden was broke and the accounts were likely frozen by this point. I needed resources, manpower and a win that didn't cost me months to years of deprogramming a cult.

  I looked north. Toward Black Hand.

  After defeating Cloud, I will have to march and do the same thing to them. And then any other minor faction, gang, and group in the Wilds. That’s not to account for the stragglers, independents, and clandestine cells operating in the shadows.

  It’s not feasible.

  How can I waste my soldiers and blood fighting the traditionalists in the north after all of this?

  I looked down at Qolius.

  He was a monster, a slaver, a theocrat. He was everything I hated.

  There was nothing democratic or civilized about him.

  But he could be useful. Very, very useful.

  I extended a hand to the terrified High Priest.

  "Give me your hand," I said.

  Qolius flinched. "Why Devil?! Are... are you going to take my soul?!

  "Your hand," I repeated.

  Qolius stared at my hand and slowly, shakingly, he reached out.

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

  "From this day forward," I said, "you are my vassal."

  Qolius blinked. "Vassal?"

  "You keep your city," I said. "Your religion. Your pink robes and scary masks. Your title of High Priest."

  "I... I do?" Hope flared in his voice.

  "Yes," I said. "But in exchange, you bow to me alongside your God."

  I pointed at the army in the distance.

  "You give me tribute and manpower."

  "Manpower?"

  "Soldiers," I said. "Fearless, mindless, disposable soldiers. The kind that don't ask questions and don't retreat."

  Qolius straightened slightly as the fear faded.

  I pointed North.

  "I will give you magical food, equipment and tech. I will fund your city until it shines like a jewel and once you are recovered... once your army is ready..."

  I looked him in the eyes of his mask.

  "You and I are going to destroy Black Hand and conquer the Wilds once and for all."

  I had come here to liberate a city. Instead, I had acquired a cult.

  "God help me," I whispered to myself.