Chapter 2: The Heroes Broken Promises. 

"Hahaha- Wait, what?"

Victor, emboldened, continued;

"Magnus, it's been two centuries since you were last here. I am the descendant of the man to whom you entrusted your weapons."

Magnus's bright face, was slowly dimming.

"I- that's wrong. Wait, no, don't tell me, did, everyone get put into a magical sleep and now they're only just wakin-"

"No. You disappeared. Nobody could find a trace of where you'd gone."

"But, that can't be right! I'd told Stella I'd help her defend Piraxis from dread lord Maltheusius! Lynley was building a boat for us to take a trip! We were going to sail and discover the mystery continent! Niffy was going to be here for our rematch! I've never been late, not even once!"

Tears were welling up in the corners of his great eyes, streaming down his face to splatter onto the floor.

Victor shook his head. There were many strange things in the world, even after the examination of magicians and scientists, to think he'd see such a miracle today. And so sorrowful a one at that.

One of the thieves snickered.

"Never late? I assume you mean Aestella of Eastmarch. She died of tuberculosis over 173 years ago, on an expedition to find you as it happens. Maltheusius retired as overlord less than a year after you disappeared. His dairy speaks of how depressed he felt- did you two have something going?

And as for Lynley, a few months ago, the bones of his ship were found at the bottom of the ocean, just twenty kilometres off the coast he was looking for. I hear people take diving trips there now.

Come with us, and you'll see exactly how much the world has moved on."

He stepped forwards, and went to put his hand on the shoulder of the giant Magnus- only to reel in shock as the red scarf which had been rippling in the air, looped around his neck, and yanked him headfirst into the wall. It let him slide to the floor, and then the red cloth looped around to dab at Magnus's tears.

"No. I need to see this for myself. I feel it in my soul! My comrades are not all gone! Friend or foe, I will find them and the truth wherever it is in this new world!"

The thieves were fed up, and as Magnus got up, both had formed up around the door, now having resorted to simply drawing guns on him.

"Stop."

"What he said. Fossil, you may not realise it, but humanity hasn't stood still. You might've been a legend, but times have changed! Just, come with us and prove your identity with a DNA test."

"... I've been light on you villains so far. But to push me, at this time- Once people told me my tale would ring eternal! I see now that it did not ring loud enough. My friends! If I can't find you, I will be sure that you can hear my name again wherever you've gone!" The words were spoken from the heart. The naive hopes of a man praised as unbreakable, in the face of learning that all he knew was dust.

The men fired. They'd both aimed to wound- this was a legend after-all, he could take a bit of punishment.

But both had severely underestimated their opponent. He was someone who had fought hand to hand with a dragon- something still acknowledged as among the strongest of beings.

He swayed in time with their trigger pulls and avoided the shots.

"Fast! Faster than any crossbow! Magic weapons?"

Neither man spoke, but sweated a little, and proceeded to empty their entire magazines at him.

At first, they'd figured they'd intimidate him into coming with them but, now, their priorities had shifted dramatically.

Unbelievably, he dodged- not all of the shots though. Several were caught by his scarf and three more ping'd off the orange surface of his gauntlets.

Magnus sprang forward, dodging left and right before reaching out towards the men's guns and yanking them out of their hands.

"Seems like they'd hurt if they struck true, but you don't seem to know how to use them." Confusion had replaced the sorrow of moments before, "Such excellent weapons and yet you didn't even try to restrict my movements- Are you from a rich family?"

In the distant past, a topic studied by archers in detail had been aiming patterns- methods by which one or more archers could set up unblock-able, unavoidable shots by taking advantage of their range. Conceptually it was a simple idea. If you shoot at someone's right shoulder and face and they block it with their arms, there would be a minimum time required for their arms to reach a new position to block a lower strike at their knees. The limitations of how a body could move, how momentum could be gained and lost would lead to inevitable openings where certain follow up movements were flat out impossible. Not unlike a tennis player trying to receive consecutive serves sent to far ends of the court.

However, this school of thought had long since disappeared. In the first place, automatic weapons made such skills almost redundant- and in the second place, until the latest generation of augments and personal enchantments, being able to avoid projectiles going over 400m/s wasn't exactly a day-to-day occurrence.

Wordlessly, the two entered a stance. They had been augmented with cyberware and so their strength was several times greater than that of a lifetime bodybuilder.

They were sure that together they could give this so-called hero a run for his money.

After-all, legends were always exaggerated.

The fact that he'd been able to block and dodge the bullets was somewhat surprising, but, not completely beyond reason. After all, with modern cyberware, bioware and Manaware one could reach that level. Doing so didn't necessarily mean that the individual could act at that speed in all things, since the modern methods usually involved a certain amount of autonomous body movement. A common method was to implant a dedicated computer for calculating ballistics based on the current position of visible firearms, which could then direct the body to move based on those predictions. Both the men figured that Magnus had such a system in place. Considering his age it's possible it was the inspiration for the technologies they were familiar with. So really, all they needed to do was grapple him and use the superior mechanical grip of their augmentations to break a few bones. Even an accomplished physical adept would find it difficult to overpower two people who'd been chromed.

The first man shot forwards. When slotting chips hand-to-hand techniques in the past, they'd both deliberately selected styles that had been formulated based on teamwork.

His nerves, muscles and 'ware moved with the precision of a ten-year master, attracting and blocking Magnus's line of sight- while his partner in sync, moved in the blind spot he created to strike out with a swift jab to the Hero's floating ribs.

Both men were moving without thinking, operating at a speed normally reserved for the muscle memory of martial arts masters; a speed made available to them by the incredible power of modern technology.

And yet they underestimated their opponent. On the whole, modern fighters were orders of magnitude stronger than their ancient counterparts. Ordinarily it would've been over in an instant.

But this was Magnus Magnusson himself.

His arm curled around the incoming jab, trapping it underneath his armpit- while his foot lashed out into the upper calf of the first man to charge.

Before either could reassess the situation, he'd attempted to go for a joint-lock on the man he'd grabbed, and discovered that the cyber-arm was capable of fully rotating 360 degrees in its socket.

His surprise lasted all of half a second, before the first man recovered and performed a Krav-Cybernetica move known as a whiff-slap. He made for a telegraphed uppercut and the moment that Magnus dodged it, his elbow joint rotated unnaturally.

There was no room to dodge the blow, but, Magnus had been so precise in avoiding the opening strike, there was barely any room for the follow up to gather momentum.

"I see. Completely mechanical. I know a druid who lost his arm and grew a new limb from wood... Knew, a druid." Magnus's face turned dark.

The men took their distance, nodded to each-other and advanced once more. One pulled out a stun-grenade and lobbed it under-arm at Magnus, intending to wirelessly detonate it in front of his face.

Magnus saw the grenade and without hesitation, slammed his foot down on the floorboard before him- causing it to break and pivot on the beam underneath the floor. The tip struck the grenade and sent it soaring high into the rafters.

That was the final straw. Their opponent wasn't someone they could capture so easily. It was time to disengage before they suffered further losses.

One man ran to grab the cash case, while the other interposed himself between his partner and Magnus.

There was a brief exchange of blows, and the man who grabbed the cash glanced over his shoulder as he made for the exit- only to see his partner flying towards him.

The pair smashed through the doors and skidded along the street beyond.

The crowd, who had long since started recording the spectacle, cheered and began uploading it to social media.

"Well then, I know at least one of my friends remains- I shall seek them out and hear the truths of days gone past. Good people, where might I locate Niffy?"

A bespectacled man in his twenties stepped forwards.

"She's currently attending a conference in New-Castelon. It's scheduled to last for another week. After that your best bet would be her corporate HQ."

Magnus Magnusson clenched his fist.

"Very well, point me down the road I must walk to reach this 'New-Castelon' and I shall depart swift as the wind!"

The crowd cooled off considerably.

"Uh, sir, it's about..." The spectacled man paused, staring off into the distance, his eyes flickering "tw-two thousand miles from us. Are you really sure you want to walk?"

"A normal carriage would be too slow, and I know none who would lend me the services of a broom nor carpet. Thus, I must go on foot or not at all. Though that distance is troubling without a map or guide."

"Uhm. I'd suggest you catch a plane, but, I'm very sure you don't have a passport."

"Planes? Passportals? Might you be a wizard? You seem knowledgeable enough, if lacking in both robe and hat... And staff."

The man gulped under the gaze of the godlike figure, who stood head and shoulders over the crowd.

"Not, quite. See, to go between countries now you need a permit. And instead of referring to Planes, as dimensions, I was talking about... well, uhm. It's a flying ship, that doesn't use magic. Like a big metal bird."

Magnus's benevolent smile twisted into mild confusion.

"That makes no sense at all, but it matters not. If I can hunt down and catch one of these 'Planes', then it will ferry me away?"

"Nnoooo.... You have to pay to ride on one. Uhm. You don't have any modern money do you?"

"Surely gold is gold, no matter the era?"

The Bespectacled man power-walked past Magnus to the doors, and sighed.

Though the two men from before had been considerably roughed up, it seemed Magnus hadn't accounted for the inherent toughness an augmented possessed when he roughed them up.

There were bloodstains on the cobbles, but, the men in question had obviously legged it, taking their cash-money with them.

"Bugger."

"Where?"

"You could've gotten some cash from the mercs, but-"

"It's no matter, I will simply visit the adventures guild and ply my trade long enough to buy passage."

"Adventurers guild- Magnus, I'm afraid that they no longer exist, well, except at ren-faires. Uh, festivals where people dress up and pretend to be in times gone by."

"... How does one such as I earn a wage in these modern times?"

"Look, Magnus, even if Money's not an issue, you still don't have any identification."

The Bartender spoke up.

"I think I might have a solution. My cousin has a light aircraft he uses for carrying people to remote regions and tourist sightseeing. I'll give him a call. At a private airport it will be easier for you to avoid inspection."

Magnus glanced questioningly at his scarf, which had one end raised in the air like a snake. It shook its 'head' in response.

"Mister Magnus, I'm on a package holiday right now, I mean, I'm travelling, if I pay your way from here, could I come with you?"

The bespectacled tourist held out his hand. Magnus shook it gingerly. Despite his care, it still felt like his arm had been trapped in a moving vice for the man on the receiving end.

"You certainly can, by what title should I address you?"

"Uh, Stewart Potts. I'm a technician."

"Well then Technician Potts, might I ask why you wish to aide me so in my quest?"

Potts looked uncomfortable.

"I was uh, hoping to put it on my blog.... Before you ask it's like.... How people write books about their travels. But anyone in the world can see it."

"So, you're a herald of sorts? You use your blog to announce news to the world?"

"Yes. That. I was hoping I could uh, chronicle your return. In fact, we can start now..."

Shortly thereafter, a new post went up on the internet, on a blog whose total visitors numbered perhaps in the tens. It ended with a picture of a man long dead, toasting a party of tourists with a mug of ale.

Both post and picture would go unnoticed by the world until some time later- when they would gander incalculable fame.