The stairwell spilled them out onto floor 279, a floor so broad and bright that Roy stopped halfway through his next step. Then, in his peripheral, a pale light washed across an enormous domed territory set into the middle of the dungeon, hundreds of feet tall and stretching outward in every direction, its boundaries marked by thick pillars of structured mana and a lattice of law-scribed light. Hanging scrolls drifted beneath the dome in slow, deliberate motion. Books turned themselves in the air. Dense script covered the inner surfaces of the pillars, the undersides of floating panels, the floor itself, and the high curve of the dome where lines of text met and crossed in a geometry that looked equal parts nation, courtroom, and spell.
At the near edge of that vast construction stood Eisenhower, calm as a road sign, while Lutrian hovered beside him with all the composure of someone who had been waiting far too long to panic properly.
The moment Lutrian saw Roy, he broke from the shelter of the barrier and ran straight at him. "Captain," he cried out, and the word came out cracked with relief.
He reached Roy an instant later, threw both arms around Roy's middle, and pressed his face against the front of Roy's military vest hard enough to bunch the fabric under his forehead. The breath that left him wavered between a laugh and a sob.
"I have been completely useless," Lutrian said into Roy's chest. "You need protection now, yes? Do you need another guard? Please tell me you do… Please!"
Roy's hands hovered for a second, then settled on Lutrian's shoulders. "I do," he said. "You can stand behind me and do what you do best."
FDR's voice cut in with calm precision. "Lutrian lacks the strength to be useful as protection. He will add variables that weaken our ability to protect you."
Lutrian's arms tightened for a heartbeat before he let them slacken. The sound that left him this time had no humor left in it, and when he dropped to his knees he stayed clinging there, eyes wet, like letting go would count as a mistake.
Roy looked toward FDR. "I'll take the risk. I decide what risk looks like."
The answer satisfied something in Lutrian even before Roy tapped his shoulder twice and told him to get up. He stood, wiped at his face, and stepped behind Roy with the strained dignity of a man trying very hard to act like he had not just had a breakdown in public.
Roy could barely focus on the explanation, his gaze already fixed on the massive area before them. "What is that?" he asked.
Eisenhower followed his line of sight and seemed slightly amused. "The four eccentrics inside call it the Convention of the Patriots."
Roy's eyes instantly went wide. "Oh, hell yeah! I love that!"
"I should have known you would." Eisenhower tilted his head slightly, looking as disappointed as an expressionless robot could.
Far inside the Convention, paved roads cut clean lines through the open interior while great scrolls hung between the pillars and turned lazily in currents of mana. There were no real buildings in the sense Roy expected, only structure and authority made visible, a state of mind given territory and rules. Every part of it looked deliberate. Every part of it looked important.
A cannon-crack split the air behind him and Roy wheeled toward the sound just in time to see Eryndra launch.
The vents along her armor opened wide and vented white mist in sharp, forceful bursts. One second she stood at the base of the stairs with her eyes fixed on some point far out in the field, and the next she had already crossed most of the distance between herself and the fight. Her body carved a clean line through the air, every part of her committed to one target.
Far ahead, Zehrina stood in a broad spread of Navi'N dust, black matter rolling around her in a low storm while monsters rushed and died within arm's reach. Eryndra hit her from behind with both hands on the back of her neck, jumped off the ground with the strength of the impact, and hauled her bodily into the air. Hundreds of feet vanished under them in a blink. Then Eryndra turned and drove Zehrina back down hard enough to flatten grass, split soil, and throw a ring of dust outward across the field.
Roy looked at the Convention again, then back to the fight, then back to the Convention.
"This is the coolest thing I've ever seen," he said. "You're telling me I get a gift this incredible and I have to spend the moment watching two dopes throw each other through the ground? This is unfair!"
Eisenhower extended a hand toward the open field. Asphalt snapped into place beneath it in long, smooth sections, a road laying itself down across the dungeon floor toward the fight. "If you want to get closer, I can get you there pretty quickly."
FDR looked toward him. "The Fireside Ascent will be faster. It will require less attention and produce fewer angles of attack."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Eisenhower replied cautiously. "I can lay a road quickly."
"I recall your speed," FDR said. "Still, your opinions remain only optional."
By then the platform had already formed under Roy and the others, a smooth plane of mana that lifted them into the air and carried them along the outer edge of the Convention. Takara and Orden guided the trio inside the boundary while the rest stayed with Roy on the moving platform. Behind them, Lutrian planted himself squarely in the role Roy had given him and watched the battlefield with such intense seriousness that Roy would have laughed if the rest of the floor were not trying so hard to kill everyone.
As the platform moved, a hulking, monstrous figure burst through the border of the Convention and collided directly with Grant. Roy watched in awe as Grant instantly locked a tight mana box around himself and the thrashing creature. The rapid, intense heat generated inside the confined space instantly vaporized the monster into fine ash before the box vanished, leaving Grant completely unharmed. Roy, utterly delighted and impressed by the swift, decisive action, clapped twice.
JFK glanced over. "That," he said with a proud tone, "was Unconditional Surrender. Pretty cool, isn't it?"
Roy stared in the direction the spell had vanished. "I saw it, but from here I can barely make out the details. I am being robbed of seeing that up close!"
Another detonation from the field dragged his attention away again as the platform moved out past the Convention's edge and into the broader battleground where Eryndra and Zehrina were still tearing the floor apart. Dust climbed into the air around them in dark currents. Monsters tried to close in and kept dying from the mistake.
Ahead, Zehrina's Navi'N spread low and thick across the ground, a black haze with enough density to conceal the earth beneath it. Tendrils rose and fell from the field in slow predatory arcs. Clusters of spikes burst upward and then vanished again under the rolling surface.
With loose posture and open hands, Eryndra stood within the territory, impatient white mist pulsing in short bursts from her vents. Facing her was Zehrina, one hand buried in the dust and the other raised as she controlled the Navi'N storm. Her focus had narrowed entirely onto Eryndra. Roy recognized that look immediately and instantly loathed it.
"Zehrina," he called. "Enough. You hear me? Enough!"
The berserk Zehrina ignored him completely, offering no indication she'd heard his voice. The dust continued to swirl as the line of death between the two women claimed any monster that crossed its path.
Behind Roy, Lutrian set his stance. A knot of creatures angled toward the platform from the right, and before Roy could even point them out, JFK stepped forward and snapped his hand out. Contract symbols flashed in the air, the monsters hit an invisible line, their bodies compressed under binding force, and Truman erased them with a string of thrown nuclear orbs before they could even finish the stumble.
Roy's eyes never left Zehrina. "Zehrina," he said again, quieter this time, and took a step forward.
The Navi'N dust parted around him. A narrow corridor opened through the black field as if something buried under Zehrina's rage had recognized him before her mind did. The platform hummed behind him. Eryndra's head shifted a fraction. The whole field seemed to tighten.
Roy closed the last few steps between them, near enough now to see the strain in Zehrina's face, her teeth clenched tight and the tendons standing out sharply along her wrists. Every line of her posture radiated a single-minded hatred toward Eryndra.
"Look at me," he said, part caring and part mischievous
When her eyes refused to break their fixation, Roy reacted immediately, thrusting two fingers into her mouth with enough speed and surprise to shatter the moment completely. Zehrina recoiled on pure instinct, shock and revulsion flashing plainly across her features as she gagged.
Zehrina jolted backward, grabbed his wrist, and yanked his hand away from her face. "What is wrong with you?!" she yelled. "That is disgusting! Get your fingers out of my mouth!"
Relief hit Roy hard enough to make him lightheaded. "I ran out of safe options. We leave now, no explanations."
A shudder ran through her as clarity forced its way back in. Shame came with it. Her shoulders dipped. "Captain, I'm sorry. I don't know what—"
"Drop it," Roy said. "Time to go."
That tiny lapse in focus was enough for Eryndra. She tore her leg free from Zehrina's grip and drove a fist into the side of her face. Zehrina staggered back, head snapping aside with the impact, and before Roy could fully step between them Eryndra hit her again, this time squarely on the mouth.
"Eryndra, stop!" Roy barked. "She's back! She's herself again!"
Eryndra ignored him and came in for another hit.
Zehrina raised one palm toward Roy to stop him from interfering. Blood shone at the corner of her mouth. "It's fine, Captain," she said through her teeth. "I earned these."
That answer seemed to satisfy Eryndra more than Roy's order had. Her grin shifted into something meaner and more pleased, and she punctuated the point with one last punch to Zehrina's chin before stopping close enough that the two of them nearly touched foreheads.
"Better," Eryndra said.