"Welcome to the resistance," Admiral Vance had said.But it didn't look like a resistance. It looked like a funeral.The command deck of the USS Gerald R. Ford was silent. Dozens of officers hunched over holographic tables, their faces illuminated by the eerie red glow of tactical displays.Outside the reinforced glass, the Atlantic Ocean churned grey and angry. And on the horizon..."New York," I whispered.Or what was left of it.The city wasn't just damaged. It was caged.A massive, translucent black dome covered Manhattan Island. It stretched from the Battery to Harlem, a perfect hemisphere of pure, concentrated Mana Void energy. Inside, skyscrapers were just silhouettes in the gloom."The Syndicate didn't just take the city," Admiral Vance grunted, lighting a fresh cigar. "They took the government. The White House is dark. The Pentagon is compromised. This fleet... we're all that's left of the free world."He pointed to the dome with his cigar."That barrier appeared three days a

"Move. Or get eaten by the wrong god."My voice echoed through the cavernous ruins of Penn Station.The thousands of masked cultists froze. The rhythmic dancing stopped. The chanting died in their throats.They turned toward me in unison.(Okay. That’s a lot of people. And they all have knives made of femurs. This might have been a mistake.)"Renji," Jessica whispered, raising her rifle. "I have enough ammo for maybe fifty of them. The other two thousand are going to be a problem.""Stay calm," I muttered. "They’re crazy. Crazy people respond to authority."The Cult Leader—the man with the purple skull staff—stepped down from his pile of luggage. He walked toward the edge of the platform.He wore a mask made from the skull of a subway rat. He moved with a jerky, unnatural gait.He stopped three feet from me.He sniffed.Sniff. Sniff."The scent..." the Leader rasped. His voice sounded like dry leaves skittering on concrete.He leaned closer. He sniffed my chest.(Please don't bite me.

"Get in line," I had told Elara. "It's a long list."But right now, the only thing on the list was survival.We stood on the ruined docks of the Battery. The rain was black, stained by the Void mist swirling from Central Park. The waves of the harbor churned violently.And rising from the water, towering ninety-three meters into the air, was Lady Liberty.She wasn't the stoic guardian of the harbor anymore. Her copper skin was oxidized to a sickly, vibrant green that pulsed with purple veins. Her spiked crown was a halo of dark fire.And she was crying.Rivers of thick, red liquid—blood or rust—poured from her eyes, staining her face."She's... weeping," Melody whispered, hiding behind my coat. "The frequency... it is not rage. It is sorrow. Infinite sorrow.""She's eating a boat," Ayaka pointed out dryly.The Statue raised the torch. The flame wasn't fire; it was a gravity well. The Staten Island Ferry was lifted into the air, steel groaning, and sucked into the purple vortex at the

"I just turned off the lights."I said this while dusting the green copper sand off my shoulder.The Statue of Liberty was gone. In its place, a warm, pulsing golden light resided in my chest.[System Alert: Fragment Assimilation Complete.][Core Code 4/6: The Heart of Liberty.][Lifespan Extended: +60 Days.][Current Lifespan: 2 Months, 14 Days.](Two months. I have two whole months. I could take a nap. I could read a book.)The relief was physical. My knees buckled, but I locked them instantly. A Sovereign does not swoon."Renji!" Ayaka ran to me on the ruined pier. "The dome... look!"I looked up.The black dome covering New York City hadn't shattered yet. It had cracked. Spiderwebs of white light were spreading across the dark sky, but the structure was holding on."It is stubborn," Runa growled, sheathing her dagger. "The Void Gate resists the morning.""It's a SSS-Rank barrier," Elara muttered, checking her tablet. "It's self-repairing. Unless we hit it with an energy spike equi

"I need a tailor," I had said.Twelve hours later, I was wearing a tuxedo that cost more than the missile I had sat on.The White House was intact. Mostly because the Syndicate had fled before they could burn it down. Now, the Grand Ballroom was packed with dignitaries, generals, and the surviving elite of the free world.And they were all looking at me."To the Savior of the West!" the President toasted, raising a glass of champagne."TO THE SAINT!" the room roared.I raised my glass. My hand was steady, mostly because I had consumed enough high-grade hors d'oeuvres to stabilize my blood sugar.(I just want to go home. My feet hurt. And this tie is choking me.)"Smile, Master," Runa whispered, standing at my side in a black evening gown that hid at least six knives. "You are conquering the West. It is only right they bow.""They aren't bowing," I muttered. "They're staring."My harem was the center of attention.Ayaka was currently explaining to the Secretary of the Treasury why the