The U.S. military commandos are no longer hiding within the bulk of the other forces. Now that they have spotted Abby Faulkner and Pablo Rosas, the two champions that have been ambushing and taking out their numbers all siege, they are angry and determined. The commandos peel off from the bulk of the fighhting and converge on our location.

A good plan, really. Distract them from the weaker forces and allow the Santa Barbaran Army to push back the main invasion forces.

However, it only qualifies as a good plan if we can actually hold these commandos back.

I know they are strong. I trained most of them myself.

And they immediately recognize me.

“That’s Captain Solbourne,” one of them says to another. “How’d he get here?”

“Why’s he on their side, anyway?”

“Because,” I answer. “I was never on the U.S. military’s side. They kidnapped me, held me in captivity for over a year. They pressed me into servitude and forced me to train soldiers for war. All blatantly illegal acts to do to the sovereign ruler of a neighboring nation. And yet the U.S. has acted in such brazen ways. How do you feel about working for a military that has created an unjustified war under false pretenses? Does it not pain you to see a small nation torn apart for no good reason at all?”

My plea to reason and emotion does not make even an iota of impact on these commandos’ hearts or minds. They remain fully closed-off to any opinions that contradict their current mindset. All is fair in love and war, I suspect they tell themselves. Even if that love and war has not yet been openly declared.

“Sounds like we’ve got a traitor to bring to justice,” one of them says while pointing at me. “Working with those two champions is beyond the pale. Captain Solbourne, surrender or you’re dead. The other two? You’re dead either way.”

“No,” Abby says. She flings a surfboard at them, whirling in a rapid spinning moment and slicing into the torso of the commando it impacts. The commando screams out, but only for a single moment before she collapses on the ground, dead.

Abby looks to me. “That was my only surfboard. I can’t do that attack again unless we can find ourselves more weapons.” I start to look around, but she shakes her head. “Nothing close enough to bother with. I hope you’ve got something up your sleeve, King Solbourne.”

“For our sakes,” adds Pablo Rosas.

I flash a devilish grin. “My sleeves are always filled—with Destiny Cards!”

I activate a trump card, as the Americans like to say in reference to a former emperor. One I’ve been saving all fight until I needed it most:

[Willpower Boost] not only improves the efficiency of all my stats, but improves those of everyone around me as well. It is a shame that willpower itself is not one of the 12 quantified stats of the Destiny Deck System, because I would love to see just how high that number can get with a skill like this one.

Abby Faulkner and Pablo Rosas, as beaten-down and tired as they are, stand strong and steady with the support of my Destiny Card.

The Santa Barbaran Army is spread out enough that the effects do not carry over to them as much, but I can feel a lift in the spirits of the entire battle.

We warriors three charge into the U.S. commandos and begin pummeling them. My fists, and then my poofed-out sword makes quick work of one. Another tries to sneak attack me from behind, but I poof out my bow and use my free hand to launch a fire arrow right into her chest.

Pablo Rosas bashes the heads of two soldiers together, knocking them out in comical fashion. Then he jumps up into the sky with his olive oil and wine-fueled body, cape glistening. Before the commandos know what hit them, he’s already dropkicking them to the ground.

Abby Faulkner, even with no surfboard to wield, is still so quick and nimble that the bulky commandos cannot get a single blow in. One of them resorts to pulling out their pistol, a dishonorable move to be sure, but she dodges the bullet outright and then gets in close to twist the gun back into them.

We’ve gotten many commandos down by now. Ten, maybe fifteen.

But they keep on coming. More Americans pouring in, three for each one we defeat.

We can’t keep this up.

For the first time in my life since I came to Earth... I’m tired. Exhausted by truly difficult fighting, outnumbered and outmatched by an army of super-soldiers.

This will take an old classic to solve, then. One of my favorite cards:

Let’s see what this wave of enemies does to handle the might of my [Energy Sword!]

Then I see it.

One of the commandos raises his hand into the air, pointed directly at me...

And my eyes widen as I fail to prepare myself.

“[Counterspell!]” he shouts at me.

Before my [Energy Sword] has even fully materialized in my hand, it has already dissipated into ether.

“Haha, I knew [Mage] was the best class,” he says to his allies. “Suck it, y’all.”

[Counterspell] is the bane of any unprepared fighter on Mystix, and it has followed me all the way here. I’ve used them in the past, myself, but I’ve never had my own skill destroyed before.

It can be used even on non-skill card magic, which makes it even more versatile and powerful than at first glance.

It feels so, so bad.

But I can’t give up yet.

I then activate a different Destiny Card to follow it up:

I target, of course, the commando who countered me.

He laughs.

“N-No,” I mutter. “No!”

“[Counterspell,] bitch,” he says.

My skill fizzles out and does absolutely nothing.

I’m out of useful cards for now. I don’t have the time in the real world to focus on drawing new ones, because the battle is too fierce.

And an enemy [Warrior] already takes advantage of just the momentary blip in my attention to slam me in the stomach.

I fall on my rear and smack into the ground.

It isn’t long before Abby and Pablo are knocked clean on their rears as well.

Humiliation. On Mystix, these soldiers would have the legal right to give us a spanking. That’s how badly we have been defeated.

This is pathetic. I’m just not strong enough.

{Chin up, Eryk,} a voice inside my head says.

{Francis! You’re here?} I had almost forgotten about how powerful our [Empathetic Link] was when we wanted it to be.

{We’re at the port. Come on over here and let’s escape this place!}

{I... My dear Francis, I cannot. This is my battle, and I am already losing.}

{Then just retreat!}

...

He’s right.

I look around at the battle. We’re doing our best, but the U.S. military is already inside the city. The palace is destroyed. And the night is almost here.

“We have to retreat,” I tell Abby and Pablo. “My allies are at the port. We can leave this place and come back for another victory.”

“Are you sure?” Abby asks.

“Yes. We won’t win today. We needn’t sacrifice anyone else. Not while we can still get stronger.”

“That sure is a complete opinion reversal from thirty minutes ago.”

“Don’t I know it.” I almost want to cry, seeing this place razed to the ground and being unable to do anything about it. But strong men don’t cry. They simply channel their rage and grief into productive activities like honing one’s body, or conquering financial markets. According to the soldiers I trained, upping one’s game at attracting sexual partners can help one overcome any amount of inner sadness.

In that same vein, I get to my feet and run away as fast as I can. I call out to all the other troops to follow, but at this point there are few who are able to even do so. Abby and Pablo come along too.

We make it to the port, to the crowning flagship of the MS Zaandam. The rest of the Systemless Squad are already here, preparing things as quickly as they can.

Francis greets me with a kiss. I needed that.

Master Keitou greets me with a stern glare. “I told you not to act brashly. You acted brashly, and you almost got yourself killed. What did you accomplish in the process?”

“I learned the value of retreating and of using underhanded techniques to bring about victory even when dishonorable.”

“Hm. Fair enough lesson to learn. You’re going to need it where we’re going,” she says.

And I see one other figure, dazed and confused, standing by the ship. Brett. He got out of the palace safely, or semi-safely by the looks of it.

“K-King Solbourne...”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Stay here. Surrender to America and let our people suffer as lightly as possible.”

“I wish you told me to do that before the big battle that killed a bunch of people...”

“I do too, Brett. I do too.”

And minutes later, the Systemless Squad and the faint remnants of the Santa Barbaran Army set off on the MS Zaandam. I see the smoldering ruins of the Santa Barbaran palace and nearly break down here and now.

But it’s over, for now.

We lost, but we will regain our position soon. I vow it.