General Pov
Max aborted the binding spell instantly.
Kicking off the empty air with Geppo, he launched himself violently upward just as a brilliant blue flash tore through the exact space he had occupied a heartbeat earlier. It wasn't just a stray bolt—it was another jagged arrow of lightning, and worse, it turned.
Watching gracefully from above, Hedin merely flicked his wrist, his eyes tracking the boy with cold, measuring amusement. Reactive. Fast. But predictable.
Max's eyes narrowed as the projectile curved sharply through the air, shrieking after him like a hunting hawk. So that's the trick. His lightning doesn't just fire fast—it obeys.
Still rising from the kinetic force of his jump, Max snapped his hand out and overfed power into a single countermeasure.
"Byakurai."
A lance of concentrated pale lightning burst from his fingertip, drilling straight through the pursuing arrow. For one blinding instant, white and blue screamed against each other in the air before Hedin's projectile ruptured into a shower of harmless sparks.
Above, Hedin's amusement flickered into mild annoyance. He destroyed a tracking arrow with a direct counter-cast. Mid-air. Without losing altitude. The White Elf's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around Dizaria. Interesting reflexes. Unacceptably good reflexes for a Level Two.
Yet Max couldn't afford to relax. That brief exchange had just revealed a critical flaw in his defense: if Hedin's arrows could track and correct their course, his current Auto-Evade radius was dangerously obsolete.
In the same breath, Max reached inward and forcibly rewrote the skill's threshold. He collapsed the old fifty-foot perimeter and violently expanded it outward to fifty meters.
The adjustment hit him like a hammer to the skull. His senses stretched and widened with agonizing speed—
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Ping—Ping—Ping—Ping—Ping—Ping—
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
The pings didn't stop. They cascaded through his skull in a relentless, overlapping torrent, each one a separate arrow, a separate trajectory, a separate kill vector. Dozens. Then scores. The sheer volume of it hit him like white noise made of death, and for a single, nauseating second, Max's mind nearly buckled under the flood of hostile intent.
Hedin had hundreds of arrows already charged and waiting in the sky, each one trembling with patient, lethal readiness. They were everywhere—above, flanking, angled from below—a perfect, suffocating net of lightning hanging over the entire Under Garden.
"Nowhere to run, worm," Hedin's voice drifted down, calm and carrying easily over the crackling air, as though he were commenting on the weather.
Max immediately understood the implication. Staying airborne handed the White Elf complete control over every angle. Killing his upward momentum, Max dropped hard, his boots slamming into the scorched field just as the first new pings sharpened into imminent, shrieking danger.
"Bakudō #81. Dankū."
A transparent barrier snapped into existence before him.
The first volley of lightning struck it from multiple directions.
And the barrier held.
Above, Hedin's eyes narrowed into cool, analytical slits. It held? He had expected a standard barrier—the kind that cracked under a Level 3 strike and shattered cleanly under a Level 4. Instead, the transparent wall before him stood completely unmarked, the blue sparks crawling across its surface more like a light display than genuine damage. What was the incantation? He rolled it back through his memory.
Bakudō number eighty-one.
He knew that naming convention.
A fortnight ago, during the duel with Ottar, the boy had used a different spell from the same series—Bakudō #61, six rods of golden light that had arrested Ottar's momentum for a moment. That one, at least, had carried an actual chant. Brief, yes, but still a chant.
This was different.
Bakudō #81. Dankū.
A higher number. Considerably higher. And apparently not a binding art at all.
Hedin's eyes narrowed as another wave of his lightning arrows crashed harmlessly into the transparent wall and dispersed. So the series did not consist solely of restraints. It included barriers as well—and if the numerical progression meant anything, then the leap from sixty-one to eighty-one explained the absurd jump in defensive power.
More disturbing was the method of its invocation.
No supporting verse. No formal incantation. No visible casting circle. The boy had simply spoken its name, and a barrier capable of withstanding hundreds of charged lightning arrows had come into existence.
Entirely chantless?
That thought sent a cold spike of professional intrigue through Hedin's irritation.
He studied the barrier with the same ruthless patience he applied to every battlefield anomaly. Its weakness revealed itself quickly enough: it guarded only a single facing. A unidirectional defense. Limited, yes—but far from useless.
And certainly not something to dismiss.
Before exploiting that flaw, Hedin decided he wanted to understand exactly what he was looking at. The boy had already violated too many accepted laws of magic to be treated casually, and this impossible, high-order barrier invoked in a single breath had just become his most immediate problem.
Grounding himself in the air, Hedin began a systematic test. He sent a single, clean arrow at full Level 1 output, watching intently as it struck the barrier. The transparent surface didn't react with so much as a hairline fracture. Interesting, Hedin thought, seamlessly raising the output to Level 2 and pushing more Mind behind the next arrow. Again, the barrier absorbed it without complaint. Curious.
Behind the absolute defense of Dankū, Max refused to just sit like a target dummy. If Hedin wanted to play at range, Max would answer in kind. Gathering a volatile mass of Destruction magic in his palm, he hurled it outward like a spear of crimson-black fire, aiming directly for the floating elf.
But the attack lacked the razor-sharp structure of a proper Kidō. The projectile held its shape for the first twenty-five feet, but as it crossed the fifty-foot mark, the dark energy began to violently waver out of control. By the time it reached a hundred feet, the spell simply dispersed into harmless, dissolving ash.
Max gritted his teeth, frustrated by the glaring limitation. His control over external applications of Destruction was nowhere near refined enough to bridge the massive gap between them. Sitting in place was exactly what the executive wanted him to do, and a ranged magical duel was clearly a losing game. Then, Hogni's earlier advice surfaced through the static with sudden, crystalline clarity: Restrict his range. Cut down his freedom of movement. Force him into close quarters. He had to box the elf in.
Unbothered by the boy's fizzling counterattack, Hedin escalated his test to Level 3, firing a concentrated bolt capable of punching through upper-floor dungeon walls. The barrier stood utterly unmoved. Frowning, the White Elf immediately bumped his output to Level 4, unleashing a heavy, sustained beam that he normally reserved for named monsters. The barrier held perfectly. What, Hedin thought flatly, in the name of Freya, is this?
His eyes fixed on the immovable wall of light with an expression that, on any lesser elf, would have been called disbelief. The boy had conjured a defense capable of withstanding Level 4 output with three words and no incantation. The implications were profoundly offensive to everything Hedin understood about the laws of Falna; magic of this magnitude required a verbal framework to focus and sustain.
Yet there it stands, Hedin thought coldly, his patience finally expiring. Abandoning the incremental tests, he simply redirected the massive, blinding sphere of Varian Hildr he had been charging above the battlefield and dropped it directly onto the barrier.
Not a test this time. The real thing—raw Level 5 output, carrying the full, uncompromising destructive force of his ultimate spell.
CLANGGGGGG—!
The impact rang across the Under Garden like a bell struck by a god. The deafening shockwave shook the cavern walls and ripped dead petals from the scorched flower field in a violent outward gust. Max's boots tore deep, smoking trenches through the burned earth as the sheer kinetic force shoved his barrier backward, his arms shaking violently and his shoulders screaming under the pressure.
Still, the barrier held. It shuddered—for the very first time, the crystalline surface groaned and visibly warped under the immense weight of Level 5 magic—but it did not break. Hedin stared, the systematic, analytical calm he had maintained since the opening of the duel developing a very fine, very dangerous crack.
What in Hildr's name is this madness? He had fed a Level 5 output into a barrier conjured by a Level Two adventurer without an incantation, and the barrier had merely flinched. The boy had stomped on every sacred principle of Falna that Hedin had spent a lifetime refining.
Hogni was assigned as his shadow, Hedin thought, something cold and furious beginning to crystallize behind his eyes. He watched this child parade his impossible magic—chantless absolute defenses, spatial teleportation, consuming auras—and said absolutely nothing.
The sheer strategic incompetence of it made Hedin seethe. If Hogni had immediately reported these absurd anomalies, Hedin could have meticulously planned the optimal use of such unparalleled resources for the Familia. Instead, the Chief Strategist had spent the last ten days wasting his time negotiating with backward-thinking royal elves while a tactical revolution walked around completely unsupervised.
But as the rage peaked, it instantly cooled into a razor-sharp determination. At least I know now. Once this pesky battle was concluded and the upstart was thoroughly disciplined, Hedin would personally take control of his development. He would never let such invaluable assets go to waste again.
Above the lingering static, the halo of support arrows surrounding Varian Hildr curved viciously around the barrier's flanks, diving in from both sides. Max didn't even bother turning to face them; he simply let them hit him.
BANG—KZZZT—CRACK—BOOM!
Blue detonations rippled across his body in rapid succession as arrow after arrow smashed into his Destruction armor. The impacts chewed the outer layers into ragged sprays of crimson-black haze, staggering him half a step and sending pain lancing through his muscles. But nothing breached the inner seal. Absorbing the barrage had given him something invaluable in return: a precise location.
Peering through the blinding impacts, Max found Hedin descending from the upper right. There you are.
But even as Max bared his teeth and moved to capitalize, Hedin was already thinking ahead. He had watched the boy absorb that barrage without a shred of concern. The erasure coating didn't just defend—it consumed, shredding the magical component of every arrow before it could bite into flesh. "You are incredibly resilient for a novice," Hedin noted aloud, his voice perfectly level as he filed the observation away. "But resilience is merely a delayed death."
The armor requires continuous mind supply, Hedin analyzed, descending with fluid grace. Push harder, push faster, deny him the recovery window he needs to reknit the layers—and it will eventually fail. Refusing to be pinned down, Max kicked off the ground hard enough to fracture the bedrock beneath his boots and surged upward. As he soared, he cast two more Dankū barriers into being, placing them in the empty spaces to either side of Hedin's likely landing path, systematically closing off one angle after another.
Hedin noticed immediately. He is trying to funnel me, the elf realized, adjusting his trajectory mid-descent. Not a prison. A narrowing corridor. Clever.
"Insolent," Hedin said, and there was genuine, quiet displeasure in it.
His available answers were shrinking with every barrier Max placed. For the first time in the duel, the Chief Strategist was being steered. He touched down just as Max drove his rapier forward for a brutal entry.
SKREEEECH-CLANG!
Max smiled into the shower of blue and crimson sparks. At last, he had forced Hedin into a melee.
But the smile faded the moment he felt the raw, overwhelming brutality pushing back against his blade. Hedin wasn't physically stronger—not even close—but the White Elf had absolutely no intention of fighting a clean duel. He had come to prove his absolute superiority, and he was going to do exactly that.
"Caelus Hildr."
Hedin murmured the chant, but instead of firing the arrows skyward, he viciously held the charge. The concentrated magical payload flooded directly into the shaft of Dizaria, supercharging his melee strikes with explosive, localized detonations.
BOOM!
A burst of point-blank lightning erupted straight off the staff's guard, hitting Max's chest at less than arm's length. It didn't pierce the Destruction armor, but the kinetic shockwave disrupted Max's rhythm entirely. Hedin was already moving, sliding off-line and carving for Max's exposed flank with a cut so precise it would have opened most adventurers to the hip.
The blade met the outer layer of Destruction with a vicious HSSSSK. Pain flared along Max's ribs. Not deep, but real.
"Your posture is incredibly wide," Hedin said smoothly, not breaking rhythm for even a syllable. He launched a ferocious three-step counter: a thrust for the throat, a reverse cut for the wrist, and a point-blank lightning burst angled for Max's eyes. "Did you think sheer violence could replace decades of refinement?"
He wasn't just attacking. He was talking, prodding, weaving deliberate provocation into the physical pressure with surgical intent. Every taunt was a calculated tool, designed to fracture concentration and force an emotional reaction. Anger makes adventurers reckless. Reckless adventurers make mistakes. Mistakes I will punish.
But Max simply surged in harder, abandoning finesse to fight like a siege engine. Brutal hooks and palm strikes wreathed in dense Destruction turned every exchange into a dual threat of blunt force and erasure.
He isn't taking the bait, Hedin observed, bending around the assault with terrifying grace. Emotional stability above his age. Noted.
More troubling was the spatial awareness. Every time Hedin slipped into Max's periphery for a surprise strike, the boy reacted with impossible, flawless precision. Catching Dizaria's shaft. Shifting his stance to intercept. Never a clean blind-side hit.
It's not instinct, Hedin concluded sharply, his eyes narrowing with the focused intensity of a man reading a text in a language he had never encountered before. He senses me the absolute moment I cross a specific threshold. Omnidirectional awareness. A detection skill.
He noted it. Filed it. Added it to the growing, quietly alarming list he had been compiling since the barrier tests.
Chantless barriers. An erasure aura that consumes rather than blocks. Omnidirectional spatial detection. He ignores the fundamental laws of incantation entirely.
As another perfectly parried surprise strike sent irritation crackling up Hedin's spine, the White Elf made a decision. Enough. He had gathered sufficient data. This close-range exchange was playing entirely to the boy's strengths, and lingering here was beneath him.
Push him back. Deny him recovery. The armor will fail if I sustain the pressure from range.
Max abruptly changed tempo before Hedin could disengage. He slammed his left foot down and kicked off empty air with a point-blank Geppo, twisting his body sideways in a direction no grounded fighter should have been able to move. Dizaria's intercept cut through empty space.
Max's heel crashed down toward Hedin's shoulder like a falling hammer.
Hedin barely got his blade up in time.
BOOOOM.
The impact drove the White Elf knee-deep into the scorched earth, cracks spiderwebbing outward beneath him. The shockwave snapped his cloak violently, scattering loose blonde hair across his face. Max didn't let up. The instant his boot touched ground, he thrust straight for Hedin's centerline. Hedin twisted, but the point tore across his side, slicing through cloth and drawing a bright line of blood.
First blood. His blood.
The smell of ozone sharpened instantly.
Hedin's expression cooled into something much uglier.
Enough.
He gave ground in a blur, not retreating so much as deliberately resetting. Max lunged after him, refusing to allow separation. But Hedin was ready for that. Dizaria swept in a tight defensive arc while his free hand rose, and the single word that left his lips carried absolute, focused killing intent.
"Caelus Hildr."
This time he released it.
Not a spread. Not a halo. A concentrated, roaring torrent of hundreds of charged arrows unleashed all at once, the entire prepared stockpile dropped from the sky simultaneously in a blinding cascade of blue-white annihilation. The sheer volume of it blotted out the ambient glow of the cavern entirely, turning the Under Garden into a miniature thunderstorm.
CRACK—BOOM—ZZZT—CRACK—BOOM—CRACK—
Max threw up a rapid Dankū, but Hedin was already charging another arrow directly behind the barrage—a single, massively condensed spear of lightning with enough focused force to punch straight through high-grade armor. The moment Max's barrier appeared, Hedin fired it directly at its center.
SHHHHK—KRAKOOOM!
The barrier shattered. The shockwave hurled Max backward across the ruined flower field, his Destruction armor hissing and crackling as it desperately absorbed the overflow.
Hedin landed gracefully, staff raised, pale eyes cold and utterly without mercy. He was already charging the next volley, forcing Max back into the kill range he controlled absolutely.
You wanted a battle, upstart, Hedin thought, as the crackling blue light of a fresh Caelus Hildr gathered above him in a suffocating storm. Then suffer the consequences of one.
But even as the volley built overhead, Hedin's brilliant mind was still working, still cataloguing, still burning with that quiet, cold fury that had been building since the barrier tests.
He has broken too many rules. He will not be allowed to leave this floor until I understand each one.
The next wave of lightning shrieked downward, and the Under Garden shook.
Hedin escalated the bombardment to a terrifying degree. His attacks were drastically fiercer now, a suffocating net of electricity where each bolt was threaded with meticulous, lethal intent.
The realization for Max arrived quietly, cutting through the thunder of the impacts like a cold knife. Hedin wasn't trying to break the barrier anymore. The volleys were too measured, too evenly spaced — large enough to force the Dankū up every time, precisely calibrated to never quite shatter it outright. He was bleeding Max's Mind dry, one sustained exchange at a time. At this rate, the barrier wouldn't crack under pressure. It would simply stop appearing.
Max gritted his teeth. Sitting here and blocking was losing slowly. Closing the distance was losing fast, or winning.
He chose fast.
And when Hedin pressed the margins too closely, attempting to weave physical strikes into the magical barrage, Max retaliated with a distinctly different variation of his chantless magic.
Hadō, Hedin analyzed, banking sharply to avoid a sudden blast. If Bakudō represented the binding and barrier arts he had witnessed earlier, then Hadō was clearly its destructive counterpart. The sheer breadth of the arsenal was staggering. It ranged from the concentrated pale lightning of Byakurai he had seen moments ago, to massive, sweeping devastations like the current one.
"Hadō #73. Sōren Sōkatsui!" Max roared.
A twin-fanged torrent of deadly, highly concentrated blue fire erupted from the boy's hands. Max aimed the long-range attack toward his general location, clearly praying for a hit. Hedin easily strafed past the blinding inferno, watching with clinical detachment as the highly destructive fire carved a blistering, molten trench through the sky and missed entirely.
The twin torrent didn't simply dissipate. It screamed past Hedin's shoulder and detonated against the far cavern wall with a concussive boom that shook the entire floor. A massive section of crystal stalactites tore free from the ceiling, jagged and enormous, crashing down through the air between them. Hedin banked sharply to avoid the debris, his next volley firing half a second late and at a redirected angle.
Max moved in that half second.
Hedin obviously retaliated. He dropped another suffocating barrage of Caelus Hildr volleys, weaving them together with a few heavily intensified Varian Hildr spheres aimed directly at the boy's center of mass by pushing his own casting speed to the absolute limit. Yet, every single time Hedin cornered him, those blasted Dankū barriers came in clutch. They snapped into existence at the last possible millisecond, completely negating the executive's hard-won positional advantage and forcing Hedin to start his complex assault all over again.
But what frustrated the White Elf the absolute most was the boy's sheer, impossible stamina.
The upstart was maintaining an omnidirectional detection skill, fueling an impossibly dense full-body erasure armor, and chaining high-tier offensive and defensive spells back-to-back without a single breath of incantation. In a one-on-one duel against a Level 5 executive, the boy's Mind reserves were somehow holding parity. It defied every fundamental law of magical expenditure.
As the cycle of attack and defense repeated, one question began to haunt Hedin over everything else, echoing above the deafening crackle of his own lightning: How could a mere week and a half of absence make the boy such a monster?
Hedin hovered high above the battlefield, his breathing growing faintly heavier as the massive drain of his own magic began to catch up to him. He had spent decades refining his craft, pushing the absolute boundaries of his Level 5 status through blood, sweat, and unrelenting discipline. Was it truly that easy for this boy to catch up to a lifetime of experience?
As his brilliantly analytical mind worked to connect the disparate, impossible pieces of the puzzle before him, a profound realization began to take root in his chest. The chaotic noise of the battlefield seemed to dull, replaced by a sudden, chilling clarity.
Is this it? Hedin thought, the revelation striking him harder than any physical blow. Is this the reason my Mistress is so impressed and taken by him?
This was not a fluke. This was raw, terrifying, paradigm-shifting potential. It was a potential so immense, so reality-breaking, that none of the executives had been able to realize it when they first laid eyes on the boy. They had looked at a dormant volcano and seen only a rock. They had all been entirely blind.
Suddenly, Hogni's maddening inaction made perfect, infuriating sense. Was this very growth the reason the Dark Elf had chosen to stand by him, observing quietly instead of reporting these absurd anomalies to the Familia? Hogni must have realized that if their Mistress was keeping tabs on the boy, she already knew everything. She saw the volcano. And unless Lady Freya explicitly deemed it necessary, the executives simply did not need to be informed of the boy's progress.
Worse still, Hedin recognized the bitter truth of the unspoken agreement among himself and the other elites. They had collectively chosen to ignore the boy's existence. They had let their bruised egos and fragile pride dictate their actions, simply because the boy had the sheer audacity to humiliate each of them in some form. They had looked away out of spite, and in doing so, they had nearly missed the birth of an absolute monster right under their noses.
Hedin was on the very cusp of a massive epiphany, the tactical, political, and divine reality of the situation finally aligning perfectly in his mind—
When Max chose to rudely interrupt him.
Woosh.
Hedin's instincts screamed. The boy hadn't just closed the distance—he had appeared directly in front of him like a phantom, bypassing the lightning completely in both appearance and presence.
Hedin's eyes widened. Max was no longer just coated in magic; he was entirely engulfed in a shockingly thick layer of crimson-black erasure from head to toe. The aura was so dense it swallowed the ambient light, leaving only isolated parts of his face—his fierce eyes, ears, nose, and mouth—open for him to function within the dark, suffocating haze.
With a roar that carried all his monstrous momentum, Max came down with a full, brutal overhead swing of his rapier.
Hedin's profound thoughts snapping violently back to the immediate, lethal threat, he immediately charged Dizaria with a burst of lightning. He raised the elegant staff with both hands to counter the descending blade.
CLANG!
The weapons met with a deafening screech of metal that shook the air itself.
But the moment they connected, Hedin immediately recognized the danger — not of the blade, but of the dark, living coating wrapped around it. The erasure wasn't a projectile crossing open air. It was sustained, direct contact pressed edge to skin, and his Magic Resistance had no framework for something that simply refused to leave. The concentrated erasure clinging to Max's sword was violently blasted off the blade, exploding outward directly into Hedin's face.
"Ghk—!"
The suffocating darkness hit his eyes and, more critically, shattered his concentration entirely. Whatever prepared defense he'd been holding dissolved in that same instant. With no spell between himself and the blast, Hedin was forced to rely entirely on his battle instincts alone — twisting in the very last moment, narrowly taking the explosion at an angle rather than full-on.
But he couldn't dodge the blade. Because of the curved nature of Dizaria's guard, Max's rapier didn't stop at the block. The silver blade slid rapidly down the shaft of the staff, continuing its violent, downward swing. The edge bit fiercely into Hedin's left shoulder, managing to penetrate entirely through the defensive properties of his attire and cut deep into his skin.
The sheer, overwhelming force of the overhead swing, combined with the explosive pressure of the point-blank magic, completely shattered Hedin's balance. The executive was driven downward, hitting the dungeon floor hard. He was forcefully dropped onto one knee, the earth cracking beneath his weight.
Gritting his teeth against the sharp, burning sting of the wound, Hedin's eyes flared with pure, defiant outrage. I am not finished. His fingers tightened around Dizaria, and he drove every remaining fragment of his Mind into a single, devastating point-blank charge of Varian Hildr — not a measured test, not a controlled burst, but everything. One absolute, catastrophic release fired directly into the boy's chest at zero range.
The blue light gathered between them, brilliant and furious and enormous.
It lasted exactly two seconds.
Until the erasure devoured it. Every spark, every arc, every thread of charged magic — consumed utterly, pulled apart at the molecular level before it could even fully manifest. The aura didn't flicker under the strain. It simply ate.
The air grew dead and heavy.
The crackling electricity faded. The last arcs of blue lightning dispersed into nothing. The rolling thunder that had shaken the cavern walls for the past several minutes simply... stopped. The Under Garden exhaled.
What remained was the aftermath. The scorched ruins of what had been a luminescent flower field, reduced to blackened stems and ash. The massive craters gouged into the bedrock where Varian Hildr had detonated. The shattered crystal stalactites scattered across the ground like the bones of something enormous. The faint, dying smell of ozone hanging in the still air like a ghost.
Neither man moved.
From the edge of the field, Hogni watched in complete silence.
Hedin ran the calculations one final time. His mind was spent. His magical resistance had faltered. His left arm was compromised at the shoulder. The erasure field around the boy rendered point-blank casting impossible. Every remaining variable arrived at the same answer.
For the first time in years, Hedin Selland could not find the next move.
He did not move.
In no time at all, the cold, silver tip of Max's rapier was resting firmly at his neck.
The Chief Strategist was kneeling on his knee in the dungeon, his skin bleeding, his magic completely smothered… and he himself defeated.
--> Devil in a Dungeon <--
AN:
Hope the chapter lives up to the expectations you had for their duel. I was going for a unique fight instead of both of them throwing around Lightning and Destruction madly, hope I managed to convey that clearly.
And just so we are clear, the reason Hedin was described as he was 'above' Max was due to him perched on one of the trees present on the floor as that gives him a tactical advantage with a clear view of the ground and air as well. Obviously he chose a tall and thin tree so that Max can't hide in his blind spot directly under the tree.
In the next chapter we will see the aftermath of the battle and get into the itty gritty detail of Max's business establishment.
So share your thoughts/suggestions on how the duel went and if you have any suggestions to improve it in a review/comment.
If you'd like to read 9 chapters ahead(around 45k words), support my work, or commission a story idea, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m/b3smash
Please note that the chapters are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Next update will be on Tuesday.
Ben, Out.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.