Mark breathed out under the night sky upon the deck of the Dreadnought. The gentle light of the grid flowed overhead, in the distance, while the deep blue and star-strewn sky beyond did not betray any hints of the greater beings out there, beyond the realm of the Prime System… or Earth and Daihoon’s Secondary System… Or wait. They called it ‘System Prime’. Naming conventions aside, the elven realm was rather nice.

  The air smelled clean. The sky looked inviting.

  Clouds rolled on the horizon, heralding a soft storm front, but nothing major. Just a natural storm… or as ‘natural’ as they came around here? Was ‘nature’ here? Was anything natural in this space?

  Maybe not.

  Mark said, “Lights on, please, Quark.”

  Several light poles turned on to the sides, illuminating the dark deck of the Dreadnought.

  Mark had a list of things to figure out, and he started with the Status from System Prime, asking, “System Call. What is ‘physicality’?”

  Nothing.

  “System Call: Help? What is ‘physicality’?”

  “… Okay. System Call: Physicality, set to Weak.”

  Mark instantly felt like the clothes on his skin were made of the roughest fabric possible, his shoes were cutting into his flesh, and the air was as thick as tar. In a distant sort of way, Mark wondered if the entire elven realm was at PL level 100. That had to be what this was. Mark tried to Union for Adamant and Ethereal, and that sort of worked because he was very, very good at forcing Union to attach to various targets, but the world was too strong and Mark felt himself actively dying.

  The world closed in on him and Mark died to a crush of high PL atmosphere.

  Mark woke up in his house, on the bed, groaning and saying, “The fuck? Did I just… die? I did, didn’t I—” And then Mark looked out the window, and the world was crushing in on him, cracks forming on the glass. “Oh fuck— System Call! Physicality set to Full!”

  The pressure on the house suddenly went away and Mark half-woke, like a thick blanket had fallen away. He briefly recognized that his house was very different, and then he Unioned on instinct, pulling in the Good and expelling the Bad—

  Mark blinked, and the night sky returned.

  Isoko crashed onto the deck right beside him in that very same moment, muttering ‘oh god oh god oh god’, but then she paused, and looked down at Mark, Full Platinum and shuddering. She let out a nervous laugh, and said, “Ah haha! The fuck, Mark? Your heart stopped for a moment there… and you’re back to full-black adamantium again?”

  Mark looked at his own reflection in Isoko’s face, and yeah, he was black again. He sat up and his clothes ripped off of him. “Ah. Okay. So… So I’m not messing with that setting ever again.”

  “… Did you just… did you just die? Like… You did?” Isoko asked, disbelieving.

  “… No no no… ah… maybe?” Mark said, “System Call, Physicality set to Variable.” Mark and Isoko both watched as the black receded from his skin, fading to barely-tan white, though his fingernails remained black, like before. Mark said, “So, uh. Setting my Physicality to Weak is bad in a high PL environment. I think I did die.”

  Kialo spoke up from the side, “You didn’t really die.”

  Mark and Isoko both looked over at the elf.

  Kialo’s ears turned a little red, and then he vanished, but his voice lingered, “Dying is much more painful! And discorporating! You never left your body. You won’t die setting yourself to Minimal… though the atmosphere is higher PL than the ground, and it’s dangerous to be up in the sky when you go to Minimal.”

  Isoko said, “But his heart stopped?”

  A moment passed.

  … Kialo peeked out from beyond his invisibility, looking curious. “Do humans die when their body stops? Like an animal?”

  A moment passed in communal disbelief.

  Mark said, “Generally, yes. Like an animal.”

  “Then yes, you did die, and that’s messed up,” Kialo said, going back into full hiding.

  Isoko and Mark stared at the empty spot for a moment, and then Isoko turned to Mark and said, “You didn’t have a heart for a few weeks, anyway, so maybe you didn’t die?”

  “Now that’s some wishful thinking if I ever heard any.”

  “… You okay?”

  Mark chuckled a little, and grinned. “I’m getting there. Sleeping was amazing. I feel a whole lot better.”

  “Full 99’s across the board, too!” Isoko said, smiling brightly, dropping the Full Platinum. “I got some room to catch up again.”

  Mark had a whole bunch of thoughts in that moment, from Isoko being prismatic mana, to how she could turn her Platinum off and on, to circling back to the Variable setting on his Status, to how the rocks and the trees and the food here in Elf Land was all exactly as strong as it needed to be in order to be enjoyed by everyone of various Power Levels. Mark Looked at Isoko as he thought, and Isoko noticed him looking at her. An eyebrow went up.

  Isoko playfully asked, “Got something on my face?”

  “I think your Power comes from the Variable setting in the System Prime.”

  “Ha! Yeah, maybe. We were all talking about how the land around here pushes back as much as you can take, and it’s all prismatic mana up in this joint. Your new ‘setting’, or whatever it is… yeah. Probably.” Isoko looked at Mark, and decided something. She pointed up at the tower, and said, “I’ll be up there if you need me, okay? Don’t play with yourself too hard.”

  Mark grinned. “Thanks, Isoko.”

  Isoko easily lifted off of the ground, saluted, and tumbled up through the air to land on the left tower of the castle; out of sight, out of Unionsense. She was still watching, though. Sally was, too.

  Mark turned back toward himself, closing his eyes and going inward.

  He opened his eyes again inside of his house, and the house was different. The overall shape was the same; 4 white walls, a wooden slat floor, a vaulted ceiling, windows that looked out into the world beyond (and Mark would get to that later), a door, a bathroom with normal stuff, a kitchen... But there were differences, like someone had moved all of the stuff that Mark had put down, and then added some new stuff of their own… But it was all Mark’s stuff, so this wasn’t an infiltrator’s actions. It was just… well. His Binding moved all the time, as Bindings did. They were living soul constructs, after all.

  His house would naturally move, too, he supposed.

  Mark had originally turned his Adamantiumkinesis into a fishing spear.

  He now had a suit of scalemail armor, which was really just ten thousand individual scale-like pieces of adamantium arranged in the form of armor, floating to the side of a thousand floating knives of adamantium, and one a spear. A 10-pointed talon-like crown of adamantium floated above the suit of armor.

  “So that’s my Adamantiumkinesis, huh.”

  Quark spoke up, “I am not sure what you are seeing, sir.”

  “It’s the scale armor that my adamantium started forming ‘naturally’ whenever I held it against my skin. And the Tyrant Dragon King’s crown. Buncha knives and such, and the spear.” Mark moved on to the rest of the house, noting the posters that were now on the walls, as he gestured to them, “And a poster of Glorious Man, and his saying of ‘People help people’. This one is the Mage Society contract I have with Imperial Aluatha Society and Walaria; that one is kinda dripping onto the ground with official wax seals and such. And then we have a poster of me and Addavein, and we’re the same size, gripping each other’s hands like we’re rivals in an HVP production with ‘TALZARKI’ written in big bold font on the bottom. What do you see here?”

  “That is quite odd, sir. I mostly see mangled Binding, but I do see an impression of memory in these locations.”

  Mark nodded and looked to the other side of the house, at his bed, at his kitchen, at his bathroom; at the parts that made up his ‘Healthy Body’, and then ‘Incorruptible Body’, and now his ‘Adamantine Immortal Body’. Everything was just plain nicer than how he had left it. The kitchen looked like something out of a movie set, with all of the important parts of the kitchen present, and in beautiful silver. The marble counter tops were black and flecked with gold, though. A lot of accents everywhere were black and flecked with gold.

  The bed was a 4-poster ordeal with ornate dragon carvings in the wood of the headboard and rich, dark fabrics on the curtains. The sheets and blankets and pillows were too nice, and also dark black with bits of gold threaded here and there.

  The bathroom had a walk in tile shower and a tub, while the toilet and bidet looked immaculate. The towels hanging on racks were plush black, and the full length mirrors by the sink were almost too much. The medicine cabinet had rows upon rows of tiny potions of something called ‘panacea’. Those rows extended backward into an infinity of space that kinda reminded Mark of standing in a hall of mirrors and seeing infinity stretch out into the distance. The difference here was that Mark could reach into this ‘infinity’ and take a bottle of ‘panacea’ from the third row in, or further, if he wanted. An automatic panacea dispenser held to the side of the medicine cabinet, and Mark knew, in his very soul (ha ha?) that he didn’t need to actually use it to benefit from it. It was there. It was automatic.

  Mark explained all of this to Quark, as a matter of course.

  Quark said, “Extrapolating from the effects of what you are telling me… I am not sure what to extrapolate, sir. I believe that your own ideas of what everything is would override my theories; of that I am most certain. I have to ask… Is there a refrigerator?”

  Mark went back to the kitchen, saying, “Yes.”

  “What is inside?”

  Mark opened the refrigerator and saw a normal smattering of food. “Normal stuff. Got your steak and burgers and veggies and sauces and whatever… Oh. And pancakes from Dad.” Mark reached in and pulled out the stack of pancakes, and he cried a little as he remembered. Eventually, he put them back, and he saw other things. “A turkey dinner… the spicy turkey that Mom made the last year that Grandpa was with us. She deep fried it outside. Caught the grass on fire… A birthday cake from Grandpa. A lot of favorite foods… Memories.”

  … Mark closed the refrigerator.

  “I am not sure what that means, sir. Is there other storage in the house? Anything in the kitchen cabinets”

  “Looks like empty drawers and cabinets,” Mark said, as he looked around, opening and shutting doors. “I bet I could put other ‘stored abilities’ here…” He put his hand into the empty space in the cabinets over the kitchen counter, but all he felt was the wall. The cabinets were visual-only. “...but there’s no actual space in here?”

  “You would need to store your records of your people in some place, in case they should perish, but if there is no space then I don’t believe you have that capability yet.”

  Mark mumbled, “Gods, that’s gonna be freaky if that should ever happen… Which it will, I suppose. Just a matter of time. We have been so fucking lucky on this trip.” Mark shuddered.

  … Mark walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped onto his welcoming mat, on the porch that was his Union. Somehow the porch was now a wrap-around porch that went around the entire house. Small staircases led off the edge of the porch in every direction, and some of those staircases were very wide, and very long.

  Mark recognized the stairs that were Good and Bad, and he had no idea how he knew that those stairs were ‘Good and Bad’, but he did. It was not the main staircase, but it was close to it. Mark did a circuit of his Union, looking at his windows from the outside-in, and then he stopped by his front door again, and looked outward, down the largest staircase that led from his house, into… Into the rest of the dreamlands.

  While Mark was still physically located in the elven lands, Eria had rescinded Mark’s ability to gaze upon the houses of nearby elves, so what he saw outside of his house was the tumble of Endless Daihoon. Skies, rivers, mountains, grasslands; all of that junk.

  Mark focused for a moment, and the illusion parted.

  Kialo’s cottage-in-the-woods was about 20 meters in front of him. It was a nice little cottage but it looked lonely and hidden, like the trees were pulled around it, trying to obscure the structure. That’s probably exactly what was happening. The warrior elf was crouched at the bottom of one of his windows, looking at Mark but trying to hide at the same time.

  Mark lifted his porch with a thought and connected it to Kialo’s cottage, Calling out, “Hello, neighbor!”

  Kialo’s window briefly opened, and he shouted out, “No thank you!”

  Mark’s porch/bridge/stairs failed, the edge near Kialo’s house bursting into little fragments. It looked a lot worse than it felt, and it only felt like a little slap on the hand. Kialo’s entire house then ran away, the trees becoming legs ever-so-briefly, and then the greenery swirled and Kialo was gone.

  … Mark pulled out of the dream, back into the real.

  The deck of the Dreadnought felt really, truly empty, in that moment. Kialo might have hopped overboard, or he might have gone to the back of the ship. Mark wasn’t sure.

  His range was pretty shit right now.

  … Mark still had about 10-12 meters, though, so he pulled off an arm like he was popping off an action figure’s arm. The stump of his shoulder and the upper part of his arm were strangely absent of proper biology, for not a drop of blood spilled at all, and the ‘cut surface’ of both sides of the separation were simple expanses of pale skin. With a flex of Union, of Good and Bad, Mark regrew his arm. With a bit of kinesis, and his range dropping into the 1-meter range due to actively shaping something that was more dense than his usual threads in the air, Mark made himself a rotor.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Kinetically holding the rotor above his head, Mark spun it—

  And rapidly tilted over, slamming into the deck of the Dreadnought, half of his body briefly flashing adamantium black. The fall did not hurt at all. His ego took a beating, though.

  “I only weigh a tenth of what I was weighing,” Mark said to himself, loud enough for anyone else to hear. “Didn’t balance myself right. Not an issue!”

  He stood up and tried again, and soon he was flying. Not well! Mark slipped left and right, added a tail rotor and put a bit more force into that tail rotor, and that helped, but both of the rotors were ten centimeters away from his body and rather damned hard to control. He had no extra range at all.

  Mark looked at his hands, wondering if he had made a massive mistake. He didn’t seem to have any innate Tactile Telekinesis, and though he had regained his physical body, he felt weak as fuck...

  … Could he still move with Alacrity/Slowness?

  Oh gods oh gods. This was… this could be bad. If he still had his speedy time, then great! He could be a speedy guy with shit range until he found some orichalcum. That was fine. More than fine!

  … He wouldn’t be fighting kaiju any time soon, though.

  … Okay. Don’t put it off anymore, Mark, just do it.

  Mark breathed in Alacrity and breathed out Slowness, and the world slowed down a little bit, and he sped up a little bit. The gridlines of the elf lands overhead became less flows of light, and more meandering pathways of prismatic brilliance in the dark night sky. The wind didn’t so much brush against him, as much as Mark felt himself able to follow the wind’s speed, as he walked along.

  “No strain so far,” Mark said, and he found himself able to say as much, which was different. Usually he spat fire when he tried to speak. “Not going fast enough to break any barriers, though… How fast am I going, Quark?”

  Quark popped up in Mark’s sight, saying, “Roughly 5-times speed.”

  “Shit.” Mark dropped the Union and time resumed. He could do more with a Union of Brain for Alacrity/Slowness, but he felt about half as strong as before. “This is not a good place to become powerless.”

  Kialo stepped out of the air, far to the side, asking, “Wanna go get some orichalcum?”

  “I thought you left?”

  “… I might have come back because I want to go see the worlds.” Kialo rapidly added, “It’s just me, by the way. My cohort is incredibly against this whole idea of leaving the realm, and I don’t blame them. But you’re an Inheritor, and I want to see what that means.”

  “You don’t already know?”

  “Nope! I’ve been exploring the realm with my cohort for the last Renewal. Barely anyone knows what ‘Inheritor’ actually means, and Eria is telling people to forget about you.”

  Mark frowned a little. “How old are you in that body?”

  “About 27 in human years!” Kialo said, proudly. “160 in elf years… Maybe. I don’t know the conversion rate at all. I’ve been around for about 20 years, now.”

  Part of Mark wanted to bring him along, just for answers. Another part of him saw Kialo as a tournament fighter; not a real warrior at all. Another part of Mark recognized a larger problem. Mark gave voice to that third part, saying, “I’m going back into a dangerous political situation, where people will try to kill me and witches will help them, and I’m not sure who my allies are at all. You will be hunted for answers, for sure, as I’m rather sure that elves haven’t been seen in public in eons. I’m especially not sure about…” The Goblin/Elf Issue, Mark thought, not wanting to give a direct voice to that particular Pandora’s Box… But. Hmm. Mark went quiet, thinking.

  Kialo took the silence as an opening to speak, ears twitching upward as he happily said, “That’s why I want to go back! I want to know who humans are these days. I’m sure that it’ll be horrible and I’ll run away fast, but I still want to see.”

  Mark asked, “What would you do if a person comes along who bites others, transforming them into monsters just like themselves, killing the original person in the process? It’s a plague, and it exists on the Two Worlds, and those people —because they very much are a people— are at war with humanity. Which side would you fight for?”

  Kialo paled, mouth a thin line, ears folded back. “… This sort of question betrays a vast difference in our peoples, and I would like to know why such a thing would even exist. It has to be that multi-body Ability of your man but linked to an Infector Ability… The System should specifically prevent things like this from happening. That’s one of the points of it all; to prevent out-of-control magics… But to answer the question, I would fight for no one. I want to observe, maybe have some spars here and there. Mostly observe. I do not desire this journey in order to empower you, or to be involved with Inheritor politics.” He stood tall, though he was still slightly shorter than Mark. He noticed that height difference, too, and so he flexed his ears upward to be taller than Mark, as he said, “I want to know what happened to System Secondary, and to the Dragon King.”

  Mark wanted to say ‘fuck you that’s not good enough’.

  But...

  Mark said, “The Empires will try to capture you and control you and extract information out of you.”

  “They can try. They will not succeed.”

  “… Let’s go get some orichalcum, and if it fixes my major issues you and I will have what you would call a ‘friendly spar’, and I’ll see if there’s any truth to your claim that the Empires will not succeed in turning you into a weapon for them.” Mark strongly added, “And I mean that in the most literal sense, Kialo.”

  Kialo looked thrilled for all of half a moment.

  “First off: No,” Eria of the Central Spire said, as she stepped down onto the Dreadnought’s deck, holding a small golden orb. “Kialo is not going to Earth or Daihoon or anywhere with you. He will die. And you’re not leaving this ship of yours. I don’t want you killing anyone. Here.” She tossed Mark the golden orb.

  Kialo sighed. “Eria!”

  “No,” Eria repeated.

  Mark caught the orb. It was heavy as heck and Mark almost dropped it —which was concerning, because he wouldn’t have dropped it when he was full adamantium, and yet almost dropping it seemed ‘normal’, and ‘normal’ was a good thing— but he held on, and looked at it. The gold was kinda shimmery in a way that gold was not. It was iridescent. A little white/red, too.

  Mark asked, “It’s orichalcum?”

  “Yes.”

  Mark felt a bit of hope. “Neat? So how do I… use it?”

  “Inundate it with your mana, establishing it as your own, and then bring it into your house along with your mana.”

  “… Okay so… Maybe you don’t know this about adamantium out in the real world, but until now, everyone thought that adamantium could not be absorbed back into the astral body once it was manifested. So I have no idea what it means to bring my adamantium back into my body.”

  Eria nodded knowingly. “It’s very difficult. You can figure it out.” Eria looked at Kialo, ears back, eyes focused.

  Kialo sighed. “But I want to go!”

  Eria gestured at Mark, sounding like she was at the end of her wits as she exclaimed, “His warning of the Empires is not a fiction, Kialo. I’m still looking into it, but he speaks of the goblin cohort. They’ve been a problem for the Two Worlds for thousands of years, and they’re former elves. They were corrupted and turned into a weapon! I’m trying to see if there are ways to fix that, but for now… That is what happens when immortals and mortals mix. Please, I implore you, do not go with them. Do not make more problems for the rest of us.”

  And there went Pandora’s Box.

  Kialo gasped a little, and then he looked at Mark, seeking confirmation and dreading the outcome.

  … Mark nodded. “Their leader calls himself Wongod, the Wrong Made God. His ‘cohort’, though I have never heard that name outside of this realm, consists of many horrors. The goblin in his cohort who formally adopted me as an elf is named Grax, and he, and all of his kind, need to die and be erased from the Two Worlds… But there is one, named Goofy, who was born recently from happenstance, and he’s alright. I cleansed him of most of his infection/corruption. The rest of them seek out people to bite, humans specifically, because to multiply through the corruption of animals makes weaker goblins. So they go after humans. So we’re at a deadlock. An always-war. We kill them on sight, without regret, for they do the same to us, all the time.”

  Kialo was pale. He latched on to hope, though, as he asked, “Can they be redeemed?”

  Eria sighed a little. “I hope.”

  Mark tried not to get angry. He mostly succeeded. He said, “They are the same people they have always been, for thousands of years, and there is no hope for redemption for any of them. I don’t care if they give up their memories like you do. Hell! You fuckers won’t even fix the shit that happened to System Secondary and I bet you two were directly involved in all of that, all those thousands of years ago! I’m not sure if I can forgive you right now! GET OFF MY BOAT. BOTH OF YOU. We’re going home right fucking now. GET OFF, RIGHT NOW.”

  Kialo’s face went terrified and he flicked away, the world pulling over him as he vanished.

  Eria paused, and then she bowed to Mark, saying, “Thank you for dissuading him—”

  “LEAVE— Wait.” Mark took a breath, and then he said, “Thank you for your assistance, but I have a very low tolerance for anyone suggesting that the original goblins could ever be redeemed. There is one —ONE!— goblin that I know of that is not horrible, and who tries to be a good person. Goofy Goblin is an anomaly. And he was only a month old when I saw him last, so he might have reverted in the weeks we’ve been in Endless Daihoon. I don’t know.

  “But based on the fact that all of the elves I have seen and interacted with have a deep respect for life, I hope you take this warning to heart: The goblins are ontologically evil. They might technically be elves, maybe how I’m an ‘elf’ right now, who knows! But recently, and for as long as anyone could remember, the goblins have kept a menagerie of humans, a little village of 5,000 people, keeping the humans therein ignorant of what the goblins did to them when they reached maturity. When those ‘products’ came of age, the goblins mind-enslaved the ones they wanted to give away as servants. If they didn’t do that, they gave those humans away as gifts to goblins they were trying to raise to power. Those goblins would then Bite the person, corrupting them, body, soul, and power, turning them into new goblins.

  “The goblins call their Biting victims ‘lacunas’, and before this whole trip to Endless Daihoon happened, I had to go to personal war with their entire society, killing most of them and driving them away from their home of 4,000 years, because they, and my ‘adoptive father’ under the System, were going to go to Total War with all of humanity. They could have done it, too. They have before. They haven’t won yet, and we technically consider them a pest species… But that doesn’t make them any less dangerous, or evil.

  “The goblins are perhaps one of the greatest plagues ever released unto the Two Worlds. They have killed hundreds of millions of people. Billions, probably. Who knows!

  “I accepted the loss of that village of humans when I attacked them to prevent another Total War. It was the cost of civilization.” Mark finished with, “Please do not ever speak of redeeming those monsters to me. You have NO IDEA who or what they are, and if Kialo is stupid enough to go for them, to see what is happening with them for himself, then I hope… I hope he says his final farewells to everyone in this life, because the goblins will mutilate him, probably even worse than the Empires.”

  Eria listened, her vector unknowable to Mark since she was a good 15 meters away. But her face said enough. She was trying to be stoic. A few tears fell down a stone-solid visage, her eyes watery but focused. Softly, Eria of the Central Spire said, “I take your words to heart. Farewell, Mark Careed, nephew… Inheritor.”

  … Mark wondered, for a moment, if Eria was somehow related to Grax, or maybe if she knew the name Wongod. But such a concern didn’t seem that important. Mark said, “I do not wish for our peoples to have such harsh words between us, for people should help people, but history is history, and it doesn’t matter if some people are people if those people are completely evil.” Mark added, “And I am aware, even as I say that, of the parallels between how you must see humanity, like we’re the goblins.”

  Eria stared, tears falling, then she bowed a little, and stepped away.

  Gone.

  Mark gripped the golden orb in his hand, and it was solid.

  … He didn’t have any Tactile Telekinesis, eh?

  Mark shook away the bad emotions, dispersing them into the world like so much bad miasma, flowing away on the wind.

  Maybe he could fix that later.

  Could he, perhaps, turn some of the appliances in his house into, like… grabby arms? All of the rest of his ‘Adamantine Immortal Body’ was turned into really nice furniture and house stuff. Was it all representative of whatever his Body was naturally good at?

  What did a Body that had a Strength, Speed, or Tactile-Telekinesis-capability look like, in a house?

  Mark had successfully distracted himself from the ordeal with Eria and Kialo, and now he looked at the gold orb in his hand and he… well. He lifted up his shirt, and stuck the orb into his belly button, like one would stick a ball of gold into a pile of beef. His flesh turned vibrantly black in that moment of distension and it felt very weird, but just like removing his arm, it didn’t actually hurt all that much. A bit of blood escaped, though, and that blood rapidly turned into flaky adamantium. Mark left the orb inside and he pulled his bloody hand out, that blood also turning into adamantium flakes as his flesh flowed back into the proper position, abs rippling. A darkness blushed under his skin, but soon the darkness faded away. The orb felt kinda… tight, inside, but Mark’s body was less rigid than a normal human body.

  There was ‘blood’. It was solid black, now, like flaky ink on his skin. With a bit of kinesis, Mark pulled that adamantium off and stuck it with the rest of his reserves—

  A warmth spread from his guts, soft and gentle, like a tense muscle relaxing.

  Mark reached back in and pulled out the orb, to check on it. It was a bloody affair, but that was ‘whatever’. As the blood on the orb lost its ‘illusion’ and turned back to adamantium, Mark pulled the adamantium away, revealing a pitted orb. Some of it had been absorbed? Yeah, that seemed right. And Mark’s astral body felt less tense, too.

  Mark stuffed the orb back into his belly, and let the warmth happen.