The call with the client had been swift and to the point. A meet-up at the Highway To Heaven, a luxury hotel, renowned for being the tallest building in the city. Most people thought it was a mage tower because sorcerers and the like loved to build tall and deep.
The place was too expensive for his blood, but thankfully, Simon was not covering the bill.
He sprinted there, which was swift for the enhancement was still burning in his blood. Today would be another exercise day to burn off the excess energy, an odd side effect of his spell. Every time Simon used it, the feeling was like someone had injected rocket fuel into his bloodstream that needed to be released.
Despite being over 12 miles away, accounting for all the twists and turns along the way, Simon was there in a little over a minute. It was a miracle he was not stopped by law enforcement because moving at that speed in city limits could not be legal.
The place was opulent in the most egregious way possible. It made sense as it was owned by the oldest known being in the city. The magical entity called himself a god, which Simon seriously doubted, but his power could not be denied.
As a Great Wyrm, Magnus fashioned himself the ruler of Titan Spine. Many would question that line of thought, but never directly to his face. The man was equal to a demigod without taking into consideration his racial benefits. And he was not struck with the madness typically inflicted on mortals who reach such heights.
Simon’s pace slowed to a crawl the moment he approached the fence gate, and the guards on either side gave him a look that made it obvious he was not welcome here. That was to be expected.
He did not look the part, and everything else here did. Hell, each guard looked nearly identical in their uniform, with the only obvious differences being gender and racial traits, given how the practice of magic could drastically alter a mortal’s physical form, which was a feat in itself.
Not to mention, Simon could not feel even a hint of magical emanation from any of the half a dozen or so guards. Given that they were guards, they had to have some skill. He was not sure if they could take him one-on-one, but as a unit, there was no chance. They would not be as bad as the thugs in the warehouse when it came to teamwork.
‘We can probably take them.’
‘Running is preferable.’
‘Prudence.’
“Excuse me, sir, may I have your reservation?”
One of the guards, a male minotaur, called out to him. It was not outright hostile, but Simon would not call it friendly either.
Simon would have been stumped here if not for the specific instructions he had been given over the phone.
“Yes, under the Spatafora family, with the intention of employment. Name Simon.”
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“Understood, please wait.”
Two of his buddies moved to either side of him as he tapped the right side of his helmet.
“Hello, administration. I have a man named Simon with the intent of employment under rooms 113-125.”
The minotaur nodded to himself before saying.
“Clear,” then he focused on Simon.
“Sorry for the inconvenience. Please enter and head to the 6th lounge. The residents are waiting for you there.”
Slightly weirded out by the ordeal, Simon nodded and walked through one of the smaller doors in the gate.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt the field expand. What should have been a couple of steps to the main entrance was now a massive field with the gargantuan tower in the far distance.
Simon was no stranger to spatial manipulations, but his jaw nearly hit the floor as he witnessed what was inside. There was a road leading to the main building, and dotted all across the field were entire parks of all sorts, with the closest being a gated golf course.
On either side of the entrance were state-of-the-art military barracks housing entire platoons of soldiers milling about nearby dressed similarly to those outside.
“A new face, how quaint. May I ask for your business, sir?”
Simon turned to the speaker, and his blood turned cold.
Stood just a couple of steps away was an elemental in human form. Given the breasts, wide hips, and very feminine facial features, he guessed this one to be female, but you could never be sure with elementals, given they were the magical equivalent of air, water, and the like.
But for elementals to have enough sentience to form coherent words meant they had amassed so much magical energy that they started to gain sentience.
The rule of thumb that most mortals lived by was that if the air can talk, they can also flatten a city block. A saying that stuck after the 1984 incident.
He visibly gulped.
‘Run!’
‘Run!’
‘Run!’
Simon was inclined to agree with the voices in his head, except that the best something like that could achieve was to delay his death for a couple of seconds.
“Are you fearful? Oh my! I assure you, I mean you no harm.”
The voice was smoky and deep, which made sense given the elemental looked to be carved from literal lava. But there was a cheerful note to her voice.
Sadly, it did little to assuage his fears.
“Look, I mean no trouble, I am just here for a job.”
Simon answered in the most disarming way he knew how.
The elemental… pouted? The action nearly short-circuited his thoughts. Every myth and legend of the trump card of law enforcement suggested awe and fear. He had seen the demonstrations, heard the bedtime stories, felt the power they emanated just from existing.
They were beyond mortals; only a step or two away from divinity. They did not pout or act cute; that was simply not something they did.
The elementals seemed to notice his confusion and shot him a grin.
“You outsiders all act the same. We are not some avatar of the gods, simply magical beings who are stronger than the average person. I, at least, would like to be treated as such.”
She jutted her massive chest forward, showing off her assets in the black leather tube top and hot pants. Simon now noticed that she was dressed worse than the average succubi prostitute.
Something deep in him shattered, just a little.
