A Hero at the End of the World Read Online Free PDF Page B

the gods can’t stop Ragnarök.” Archie cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “But I do agree that you could do better than working at that, quite frankly, appalling coffee shop.”
    Aside from that strange and old-fashioned reference to the end of the universe, this was the first time, to the best of Ewan’s knowledge, that someone had told him that what he had done hadn’t been cowardly.
    “I,” he began, but then he stopped, not sure of what he was trying to say. He shook his head in disbelief. “You said just the other day that I was a loser.”
    “No, I said it was a shame that the former slayer of Duff Slan was working for minimum wage.”
    “Do you think I’m brave?” he asked hopefully.
    “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Archie. “At any rate, I think what Britain needs now is real reform. It’s not as though getting rid of Duff Slan really changed things around here. We don’t need heroes. We need radicals.”
    Ewan nearly had a go at him, ready to protest—but then Archie turned a wide, dazzling smile on him, and he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands, which seemed too big for his skinny arms. He shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie, whatever he had been about to say long forgotten.
    “Give me your number,” Archie abruptly insisted. He dug a mobile out of his pocket; it was one of the new, expensive models with a camera and the ability to send photos through a centralized Government service called MMS.
    “Um,” Ewan said before stuttering out the eleven digits and watching, horrified, as Archie entered them into his mobile.
    “I’ll send you the address tomorrow,” Archie declared. His gaze pointedly flickered over Ewan’s outfit. “Try to find something clean to wear.”
    For an instant, Ewan let himself pretend that Archie was asking to hang out with him. It wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that Ewan remembered that the entire reason he’d come round was to convince Ewan to join his society. Depressed now, he padded back into the kitchen, where his mum was washing up.
    “Do you have any other friends you’re hiding?” she asked.
    Unable to tell if she was kidding or being serious, he replied, “Not unless you consider game NPCs friends.”
    “I don’t know what that means, love.” She handed him the damp mugs. “Anyway, Archie seems nice.”
    Ewan glanced out the window; his dad was sitting in a garden chair and watching the sun set. “Yeah,” he replied, thinking it was shame that he’d never see Archie again. “I suppose so.”

Chapter 4
    O liver had done History at A-level. They’d spent half a term on Early Modern Magic and the Freezing Cold War. He remembered getting a particularly good mark for his essay, “The Colonial Legacy in Modern Indian Magical Practice: Was the British Empire really so terribly awful, when you think about it?” Most of the magical theory and practice that had popped up during the British Empire had fallen well out of fashion, but Zaubernegativum was somehow still around today. There were a number of Sazzies—or Zaubnegs, as they’d been called back then—in the history books who’d been notorious, though Oliver couldn’t remember exactly what for. Until now, he had never met one.
    As far as Oliver could remember, the theory was weirdly simple. Rather than using a specially crafted totem to hold your magic, the way your average devourer would, Sazzies tapped into the ambient magic that was in every object around them. That way, they didn’t have to carry magical objects around with them all the time. They couldn’t manage any more magic than normal people—that was impossible without getting someone to cede their magical capacity over to you, and everyone knew that didn’t last and, what was more, made you evil—but they were the only magic users known to be able to cast permanent enchantments.
    The problem arose from what happened to the things around you once you’d drained them of