I launch a fireball at the Mogs before they can collect themselves. It whizzes right by the lead Mog, who I think actually smirks at me, thinking that I’ve missed in those two seconds before the propane tank explodes, incinerating the lot of them. The windows of the two adjacent houses are all blown inward from the force, large black singe marks forming on the outside, grass burning. I have to stop myself from appreciating the destruction—it feels almost cathartic to destroy this place, to tear down what the Mogs have built, after how many times they’ve torn down my attempts at a normal life.

“Damn, dude,” Sam says in my ear. “We felt that over here.”

I yank my walkie-talkie off the back of my jeans. “What’s it look like, Sam?”

“You’re clear,” he says. “It’s weird. I thought there’d be more of them.”

“They could be down in the tunnels,” I reply, starting towards the house Adam rushed into. I scan the empty windows as I go, wary of any Mogs who might be lying in wait. It’s just too damn quiet.

“And that huge-ass general guy,” Sam says. “He wasn’t with the ones you blew up.”

I’m crossing the lawn towards Adam’s house when the front window shatters and Adam’s body comes flying out. His legs smack hard against the porch railing and he’s turned head over heels, flipped like a rag doll into the front yard. I run to him as he shakily tries to pick himself up.

“What happened?” I shout.

“Father . . . isn’t happy,” he groans, looking up at me as I crouch down over him. There’s a huge piece of glass sticking out of his cheek, a trickle of dark blood running down his neck. He yanks it out and tosses it aside.

“Can you get up?” I ask, grabbing his shoulder.

Before Adam can answer, a booming voice interrupts. “Number Four!”

The General strides confidently through the front door, looking down at me from the porch. He’s huge and muscular. The tattoos splashed across his pale skull are way more intricate than any Mog I’ve seen outside of Setrákus Ra. I sense motion behind him—other Mogadorians, I can’t be sure how many. They don’t come out of the house. It’s almost like the General wants to do this alone.

I stand up and face him, my hands glowing and hot, a fireball floating in my palm.

“You know who I am, huh?” I ask him.

“Indeed. I have long hoped we would meet.”

“Uh-huh. If you know me, then you know you don’t stand a chance against me.” I crane my neck to look past him. “None of you do.”

The General actually smiles. “Very good. Bravado. A welcome change of pace. The last Loric I encountered ran. I had to stab him in the back.”

I decide I’ve had enough talk and whip the fireball at him. The General sees it coming, hunkers low and in one surprisingly fluid motion draws his sword from its sheath. He slices the air in front of him just as the fireball gets close, and the glowing Mogadorian blade absorbs my attack.