Speaking of crashing down, what were friends for if they weren’t destined to suffer together, even from entirely different realms?
Jackson Taylor felt like he was developing an allergy to responsibility.
He was pacing. Actively. Not the normal back-and-forth kind, but the stressed, twitchy, looking-for-an-exit kind. Except there wasn’t an exit. Not anymore. Just questions.
Endless, suffocating, soul-eating questions.
And he hated questions.
Why? Because people only ever asked questions when something had already gone terribly wrong.
Questions like, "Where is my brother?"
Or worse—"Where is my son?"
Jax wanted to cry.
This, right here, was why he now swore never to leave first. Because once you do, you may become the unfortunate redhead left behind to deal with the fallout. The lone survivor.
And he had never wanted to be the last man standing! They were all supposed to follow right after. So, how come he was stuck here dealing with this?
In particular, stuck with Duke Leander, who had started demanding answers with eyes like twin suns that looked ready to peel him alive.
He was understandably twitching, anxious, and similarly bewildered. And Jax understood, for he had been feeling the same way since earlier!
But he really had no idea!
If he had, he would’ve gone after them, because who wanted to be left here to be grilled like this?!
"What do you mean we’ve lost contact with them?!"
"Well—" Jax coughed, already regretting being born as he tried to think of a way to explain their disappearance. "I’ve tried calling, messaging, and even using their houses, but nothing!"
"Worse yet, I can’t even reach D-29." The poor redhead rubbed the back of his neck, feeling scared and exasperated as he rehashed his earlier frantic attempts at contacting them.
But to make matters worse, Kyle’s older brother had managed to worm his way inside the space because he had crucial information.
Apparently, he checked one place that Jax couldn’t easily check, and that was the location of the commuter craft.
Not only was it missing from the location they had earlier left it at, but his locator also wasn’t picking up anything.
Not even the one he slipped on his brother.
As if they all just vanished into thin air.
And so another fatal question came in.
"Where’s my brother?"
He had no answer, and Killian, who was listening to his explanations, was getting more confused as it all sounded like excuses.
And if not for the Duke’s reaction and knowing that Jax sucked at lying since he was young, Killian would’ve thought he was being pranked.
"So you’re saying you can’t reach them with the magical doors?" Asked the Chief of Staff, whose only experience was passing by one when he first got here.
"Yes, Your Grace," Nodded the stressed-out tree-hugger.
"We’ve got nothing else? That’s all?" Asked the Duke, whose expression looked unreadable.
Well, Jax thought he should tell him about Luca likely being fine because of the Dungeon’s great condition, but he eyed Killian because he couldn’t exactly say something so important when he hadn’t been authorized.
The young official, however, could tell what was likely going through this one’s mind and sighed.
"It’s impossible for my brother not to have some sort of contract for times like this. You’ve got one somewhere, right?"
Oh. Well, of course, Kyle had one, but Jax decided to ask for Duke Leander’s opinion about getting Killian to sign one.
Technically, for the Dungeon Space, he needed to get an actual pinky promise from Luca, but doing it like this was better than nothing.
And so one farmer was getting the Chief of Staff to sign while the same officer was being politely threatened by the Duke, who was on the brink of hysteria.
Only then was he able to share the findings he got after asking the bony elders.
"The elders said that they’ve observed how the Dungeon’s state was highly related to Luca’s state. And so judging by how the place still looks like this, then he must be safe, right?"
Right.
Duke Leander digested that information and somehow felt a bit better.
But then one person, with the luck of someone who could get hijacked after riding the commuter only once after two whole years, asked, "Does that also apply to the others?"
A good question.
One he probably shouldn’t have asked. Damn. freewebnøvel.com
For somewhere in the original boss room, a few people were having a bit of a struggle.
A root, no, a drill—sharp and spinning like it had been honed in hell—shot toward Butler Gary’s cockpit.
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