A Cry For Help

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Talon here with a quick message - I just wanted to let all my wonderful readers know I've started a Patreon for this story (technically both of my current projects, but this one has the most content by far). If you're interested in supporting me/the story you can check out this link here and get to read ahead of the public releases of my story. Whether you choose to contribute or not, thanks to everyone for reading and enjoying my story for so long!

Now, back to the action...

"John, I don't have much time, so I'll keep this brief," Tricia's voice intoned. She took a single, deep breath before continuing. "Things have gotten so much worse in the past several months. Moira was able to expand the Order's influence greatly without the threat of the Albidians and with the newfound reputation that the Order gained after their victory... but political capital in the Abyss comes at a cost. Her reputation has finally attracted the attention of an organization I think Moira knows well enough she can't handle. I'm not even sure that Lord Brighton would be able to face them... not without the rest of the Order being decimated by the fallout."

John's blood ran cold at that last statement. Tricia was not one for much hyperbole, save for the most obvious of sarcasm. Lord Brighton had insisted he would let the Order manor burn down to put an end to the Albidians... what **** could be so great that challenging it would leave the Order's forces in such shambles?

"There is a **** rising in the north. A Canadian guild of mages specializing in Necromancy calling themselves the Northern Ashes has been spreading down across the border for years. The chaotic nature of this region of the country kept them at bay for some time, but they've become more aggressive over the past year. Moira thinks that in the next year, they may try to assert dominance over Springfield. They're... they're terrible people, John. Those that don't swear absolute, magical loyalty to them... they kill them and use their corpses as unwilling slaves. There's so much more, but I don't have time. Moira would kill me if she found out I was telling you."

"Kill her? That seems like an exaggeration... but why would Moira not want Tricia to contact me?" John thought, his mind and body now fully on alert. Tricia's expressions were breaking through her mask of chemically induced numbness; she was biting her lip, and her eyes looked as if she were pleading.

"Moira doesn't see any way to stop them, and she's being backed into a corner, John. Kim and her family are making preparations to leave Springfield, if necessary, and the Legion seems to be thinking the same things. Moira... Moira knows there's nowhere else for the Order to go. Setting up a new base and establishing themselves would put them at so much risk. She's doing something even more drastic – she's in contact with the British branch of the Order. She's offering herself up to them, offering to return the Rose in exchange for protection."

"Return the Golden Rose?" John said aloud, confused. He didn't know much about Moira's lineage except the power of the Rose and the... rather lewd consequences to its use. Was she going to return to Britain to serve that branch of the Order?

"John, I know this is selfish, but... after Moira's departure, without the Golden Rose as a tool, the British Order is rumored to have become even more heartless, even more unforgiving than they were when Moira left. They won't protect me – at best they'll imprison me, at worst they'll banish me into the wilds, as good as a **** sentence to those that still hunt the Gorbachev name.

"Please, John. I know you're reading these messages, my drone told me that much. I never wanted to ask this... I never wanted to even think about it after what happened to you – what happened because of me. But please, John... let me come to your world. No stone, no key – I'll gladly be your prisoner if that's what you want. I would take any punishment from you over **** or imprisonment by the British Order any day. At least I might feel like I deserved your cruelty, if you deign to inflict it on me."

Tricia's head jerked to the side, and without saying anything, she abruptly ended the recording. Someone must have been entering her lab...

"Gaia's fucking tits," John thought, shaking his head in disbelief. Of all the messages he thought he'd receive, this was not it. John checked the time that the message had been recorded on the drone. It had only come in yesterday... which meant that things hopefully hadn't progressed too far since he received the message.

Before John even fully realized what he had done, his blade was in his hand, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt. Not out of anger, though; holding his weapon had become almost second-nature when he was stressed or nervous. Somewhere between a stress reliever and a comfort blanket, having his blade gripped made him feel more secure these days.

The thought of going back to the old world wasn't a particularly new or novel one. John hadn't been back in several weeks, but he'd made many trips to stamp out the last remnants of the Albidians with the aid of Layla's tracking. No, it was the thought of his first real tests that had John's mind on edge. The test of facing up to whoever these new foes were that had their eyes on Springfield... and the second test being facing Moira herself.

John did partly regret his abrupt departure. But he had no other choice – at the time, taking anyone else into his private world was unthinkable to John, and staying around the others wasn't an option. But knowing his choice was the only one he would ever make didn't mean that facing the consequences was any easier. John wondered what Moira would say... would she welcome him back? Lecture him for leaving for so long? Or was Tricia's message right, and Moira would be displeased to see him after so long because she didn't want any interference in whatever was going on between all of them?

What worried him most was how terrible this other branch must be. Tricia hated her captivity in Brighton Manor, but she had been hesitant to live in John's world for fear of becoming a true captive. To welcome imprisonment and **** – even **** she had to know John would never inflict on her – she must have truly feared their zealotry.

"Nothing to do about it but see it for myself," John noted mentally as he finally walked out of the mountains. He was still nowhere near home, though – there was still plenty of time to think. After their original home had burned down, John had constructed a new one to the west, farther from the lake in the grasslands that extended into the eventual desert. It was convenient enough; he had Lunaya's newly rebuilt home to the north, the deserts for Shishun to the west, the beaches and oceans to the southwest, and the multitude of Abyssal plants he had now created using his ZCP were within easy harvesting range to the east, closer to the lake.

John had wanted to make their new home a fortress, but there was little point in doing so. Even with a year's effort, the time, mana, and materials all spent to make anything that could resist a reasonable Abyssal **** would be heavily outweighed by the fact that it would be outdated and nearly useless within a few months, requiring a full rebuild, or at least massive enchantments to reinforce it. John's own growth over the past year was more than enough proof of that. So he settled for a recreation of their own home... with two changes. There was now a third floor, to provide enough room for the new creations John had added, and the ones he would add eventually.

The second change was the replacement – or, more accurately, the removal – of his old bedroom. Too many memories walking to his room to see Seras waiting for him, eager to cuddle and spend time with him as he slept, despite her own lack of a need to do so. It still hurt sometimes, walking by that section of wall where John knew a door to a loving and safe bedroom should have been... but it would have hurt far more to spend every night inside there. So John slept on the third floor, and tried not to think about the alternatives too much.

John was so lost in thought poring over Tricia's words that he scarcely noticed the presence approaching him until he heard Orria's voice.

"John! I'm so glad you're here, come look at this!"

After the moment's pause that it took him to shake away his troubled thoughts, John finally mustered the brainpower to turn himself toward Orria. She was standing atop a nearby hill, waving eagerly at him, her braided blonde hair waving frantically as she fought for his attention. Her leatherbound notebook was clutched in her hand as always, with the enchanted pen John forged for her tucked behind her right ear.

"What is it now, Orria?" John said, mostly feigning his exasperation.

"I've finally figured out how to reproduce the Blood Blossom seeds!"

John fought back a bittersweet frown at her words. Blood Blossoms were what he had ended up renaming the first plant he ever made, after lightly retooling their flavor and coloring. The blood-red heart-shaped fruit that grew on their leaves tasted of sweetness, like most fruit. The real joy was in the aftertaste; the subtle hints of lemon, mint, and herbs drifting on your tastebuds... it wasn't perfect, but it was the closest that John could get his plants to replicating the taste of Seras' favorite flavors of tea.

"And how did you manage that?" John asked the eager elf girl.

"A bit of geomancy, hydromancy, and biomancy working together. It's not easy," Orria cautioned, a soft smile touching her pink lips, "but with enough time and mana I managed to get it to work. Look!"

As she said that, Orria held out her palms. Cupped within was a single sprout, one that was tiny but strong, budding out of a small seed. John smiled at it and nodded encouragingly.

"Looks like you really did get those seeds to work. That's amazing... I won't need to spend more points to create more of them."

"I think this means that any life you create here really does have the ability to reproduce. But just like the methods that create them, it... may take some time to figure out the more complicated ones. I still haven't gotten any closer to reproducing those plants you refer to as 'Bitchin' Blueberries'."

"That's their name, no matter how much you hate it," John said with a wry grin. "Orria, there's... something has come up. I'm going to be making a trip back to the old world soon. I know I promised I'd take you there someday, but this is kind of a personal visit. No sightseeing, no plants, no animals to study, so I'm going to ask that you stay here. I just... didn't want you to think that I was lying to you or hiding my visit."

"Oh... well, that's okay, sir," Orria said, her face falling for only a moment. "With this new discovery I'm going to need plenty of time to study these seeds anyway! Just because I can get them to sprout doesn't mean I'm going to be able to get them to grow fully. I need to take soil samples from different biomes, see what concentration of mana and water and sunlight all work together best..."

John chuckled and reached out, gently tousling the elf girl's hair as he patted her head. She blushed and pouted at the gesture. She might've gone so far as to cross her arms were she not cradling her newest breakthrough.

"Never lose your curiosity, Orria," John said with a loving smile while pulling his hand back. "Or your enthusiasm. You're absolutely adorable."

"Th-thank you, sir," Orria said, blushing. "Would you bring me back a sample of some of their flora, though? Preferably something recently harvested. I want to compare the biology of Abyssal plants to mundane ones."

"No problem," John said. The two of them walked together, mostly in silence. Orria was more than capable of entertaining herself, usually by actively jotting something down in her notebook.

Orria was always documenting something about the world around her, often things that escaped John's own notice. Like the fact that due to his current lack of seasons the sun and moon always traced exactly the same path in the sky overhead, never altering their angle or duration even slightly. Or the fact that due to his lack of a weather system, there was no change in the water level – somehow, the lake and beaches remained at the same volume and height of water, despite no sources of water to feed them and the fact that John had several creations living off of the lake. That didn't even take into account natural evaporation into the air. But she did lift her head up long enough to notice when John stopped, with still a few miles to go before they would eventually reach their home.

"Go on ahead, Orria. I'm going to... wait here for the others."

Orria nodded, seeming to understand. She continued on with only a half-glance back, strolling across the plains. When she was gone over the next slight incline, John raised up his left hand and twisted one of four identical rings – this one on his thumb. After rotating it full once, John felt the sensation of a connection within his own mind.

"Sophia, we're going to Brighton Manor, and I have no idea what to expect. Gather the full party."

"Of course, Father," John heard back within his own mind. "I believe Shishun is out in the desert, training; I can track her down, but if you would like her arrival to be more timely-"

"I'll contact her myself, don't worry. Bring Lerianna and Vallya; I want to be prepared for the worst."

"By your word, Father," Sophia swore. John twisted the ring upon his thumb the opposite direction, and the connection was severed. One more twist circled the ring upon his index finger next, and John was immediately assailed by a barrage of thoughts.

"I have to be faster. Quicker. Master deserves my greatest feats only; I cannot disappoint him! Move, Shishun, swim faster, move like-"

"Shishun."

The voice in John's mind silenced itself at once, though there was a measure of a mental static that he could still hear. Like the background noise of a soul.

"...Master. I apologize, I wasn't expecting your call. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We're going back to the old world. I want all hands on deck for this one. Make your way to the rendezvous point we established as quickly as possible."

"Of course, Master. My blades are yours."

There was only static after that, so John quickly cut the connection by re-twisting his ring. He was a bit nervous about all of this, truth be told. Shishun had never had a proper fight outside of a Dungeon Barrier. Still, her dedication was strong, and he had no reason to believe she would disappoint him in a heated situation... so far.

But chances were no longer a thing John was accustomed to taking.