Life in the North: An Apocalyptic LitRPG

There used to be one more line here—one for Serfs—but now it’s gone. Obviously I’d dismissed all the Serfs and their debts, at least as far as it concerned me. If the Sect caught them within the next month, they’d revert to being Serfs, but after that, they’d be fine. It was, surprisingly, a decent Galactic law and said some interesting things about politics at the Galactic level.

Scanning over the list, I looked to see if any of these buildings had been forcibly taken by the Sect, “purchased,” or taken as “collateral” for loans that would eventually force their owners into debt. There were a few, very few, lucky individuals who weren’t Serfs but whom I now owned their property because the initial loan was to the Sect. Since the property was registered to the town ownership, I actually owned it, but a few quick swipes transferred ownership back to them. This way, at least they owned the property they’d been paying the mortgage for.

The question now, and it was relatively urgent to answer, was what to do with the buildings that had been taken or had been owned by others before the System. In the second case, I was leaning toward saying “tough.” The world had changed—all old property ties were gone, at least in my view. However, memories of a grenade, a shop, and undying anger came to mind. Whatever my personal feelings on the matter, it was also true that we couldn’t afford internal strife—especially the violent kind—while the Sect was still a threat.

The smart thing to do is to leave things as they are, perhaps reducing the rent charged. Currently, the rent charged on each of the apartments and buildings is outrageous, specifically geared toward keeping Serfs and other lendees in perpetual poverty. For obvious reasons, I have no desire to do that, but at the same time, the rent is a major revenue source. One alteration I can make is to charge a daily rental fee rather than a monthly one, with the provision that individuals can pay in advance. That would give us more regular income rather than sudden surges. I hope.

Of course, it isn’t exactly fair. Or nice. Or right. But…

I sigh, staring at Ali. “This… did they all have to make decisions like this?”

“All?”

“Roxley. The city, the general, council. Rulers.”

“Yes. If you think this is bad, wait till you see what bit boy has up next for you.”

“Kim?”

“KAMLOOPS REQUIRES SOLIDICATION OF ITS RULE OF LAW.”

“Shoot me now,” I say with resolution.

Having spent enough time with Angela, the ex-RCMP member in Whitehorse, I know how complicated the entire matter is. It isn’t as simple as taking our old laws and adding them back to our lives. For one thing, were we willing to set up the full court of laws with judges, juries, and lawyers? Why? A simple purchase from the System could verify the truth of a matter. Never mind the fact that certain Classes have Skills that can divine the truth even without using the System Shop. But if we came to rely on a single individual, did we then create a single point of failure—of corruption?

Property crime was less of an issue, though theft of items continued to be a concern. Of course, it only cost a little additional to “register” items with the System, though few Adventurers bothered. After all, with the increasing Levels, what equipment was useful now might be outdated within a few months. Why bother spending the money then? As such, item theft could be considered a “minor” crime these days, since anything truly expensive would be registered, making it much more difficult to sell the item.

Then you had violent crimes, which needed to be redefined. Since nearly everything outside of actual death was temporary, breaking someone’s nose or arm or ribs was a lot less dangerous than before. It was nearly impossible to kill someone by accident these days. Of course, you didn’t want to encourage violence either—after all, if you did, combat Classers would trample production Classers. And while that might make certain juvenile individuals revel in their “strength,” it did nothing for the community. After all, if all your goods could be exhorted out of you, why would you put in any effort?

I sigh, staring at the information, and get down to it. Luckily, since this is directly related to the town, I can use the town’s Credits to purchase information from the System, giving me detailed laws from other settlements that we could base ours off. In the end though, what I want is something simple and easy. I’ll leave it to the professionals to develop the complicated bits. My laws basically ran down to—don’t be a dick. If you are, don’t expect us to back you up.

As for the buildings, I figure I’ll lower the rent and leave them in my care for now. Procrastination might not be a good thing, but it does mean I don’t have to deal with the problem right this second.

Ingrid never makes it back that night. That’s okay. What I have planned for her is better said alone. When I finally find her, she’s seated in an abandoned office building, nursing a bottle of alcohol in the remnants of a window overlooking the city. I sit next to her, fishing a bottle of whisky from storage to join her in a bout of silent drinking.

“Not going to bitch me out?” Ingrid asks eventually, noting the lack of blunt Spirit next to me.

“No.” I shrug and sip on the drink. “Always been your call on what you want to do.”

“Is not wanting to play hero that wrong?” Ingrid says testily. “What have these people ever done for me? Or you?”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Amazing, the things you overhear when no one notices,” Ingrid says cryptically.

I wait for the teenager to add more. While we sit in silence, I take a moment to regard the First Nation woman and the bitterness that creeps across her face. I wonder what she overheard, what careless words were uttered. God knows, being a lipreader means that I’ve picked up more than one casual insult spoken when they thought I wouldn’t notice. The people here, they’re the same ones who were content to live in their own little bubbles and declare that they were “good” or “right” because they never did anything actively wrong pre-System. Just content to let the evils of the world happen because they weren’t actively taking part in it. I doubt much of that has changed and so, I understood her feelings.

“But it’s not enough,” I whisper to myself and smile crookedly when she shoots me a puzzled look. “I don’t care what they did or didn’t do. Or if it’s right or wrong to give them back a little of their own medicine. Because I’m not looking to be them. It’s easy to be just about good enough, to be mediocre and normal.

“The world ended, Ingrid. We had a damn apocalypse. If there’s ever been a good reason to change, I figure that’s it. I won’t, I can’t go back to just getting by, doing just enough to live. I tried that once, and all I did was mark off the days till I died. Now we’re here and I’m still alive and everyone and everything we knew is dead. So yeah, I’ll play at being a hero and doing the right thing, because I’ve tried the other way.”

“Not everyone.” Ingrid’s lips twist slightly, and she tilts her head as she speaks. “You could play at being a villain.”

“Meh. Villains are boring.” I say mockingly, “Oooh, look at me. I’m bad. I’m evil. Watch me stomp on a baby’s head because that’s so edgy.”

Ingrid snorts at my words and the false face I put on.

“So you in?”

She takes a swig from her bottle, making a face. “Whatever. I don’t have anything better right now. But I’m not wearing tights.”

“How about some leather?” I waggle my eyebrows and wince as she punches my arm, chuckling slightly. “But seriously, we need your skills. They’re going to be sending people at us, and we’re going to need as much information as we can get.”

“You want me to spy on them?” Ingrid says flatly, and I nod. “Why don’t you just buy the information?”

“I have some basics. The rest was too expensive. Spread around North America are four high-level Advanced Classes, fourteen mid-level Advanced Classes, seven low-level Advanced Classes, and just over two hundred Basic Class Sect members. Most of them are locked in combat around Seattle at the moment. The ones in BC are their holding force, the people in charge of keeping things running,” I say, explaining things simply to her.

“For all that, the System can’t tell the future, so figuring out what they’re going to do isn’t something it can tell us. Guesses, probabilities, sure. But if you sneak in, look around, maybe ask a few questions…” I shrug. “Maybe you can figure it out. And either way, we’re going to have to take those cities later. It’d get pretty expensive if I just kept buying information. That bit of information already cost us two hundred thousand Credits.”

“Really? You took one city and now you’re looking at more? Getting a bit of a big head, are you?”

“Might as well do it right.”

Ingrid laughs softly, tipping her bottle upward and draining it before she nods. “I’ll play spy for you. Until I get bored. Or get a better offer.” She snags my bottle and leans forward, flipping off the ledge into the darkness below.

“My bottle!” I grumble softly, her dot disappearing from my map. That went better than expected.

Chapter 10

Breakfast. The most important meal of the day. Whether or not it matters for our altered bodies, it certainly helps as a ritualized meeting place for the team. Today, it’s Sam’s turn to cook, which means we have gruel, gruel, and bacon. At least there’s enough.

“Ingrid’s not here,” Mikito says, dumping some chopped ginger into her gruel.

“I spoke with her last night. She’s scouting,” I say unconcernedly. No point hiding this information from my team. It isn’t even too much a concern about need-to-know issues since anyone who really wants this information can buy it from the Shop. Though I am curious how Ingrid’s Skills affect that option. Something to ask Ali about later.

“Huh,” Ali says. “Figured she’d have left.”

“No thanks to you,” Lana says, waving a finger at Ali.

Once the Spirit ducks his head, Lana takes the time to update us on her progress yesterday. The others follow suit, including me. I even take a moment to introduce Kim, who is extremely reluctant to even say hi. Everyone takes the introduction of the AI with aplomb—just another post-System moment.

“Sounds like most of you have things well in hand,” I say as we stare at the empty pot. Bland as gruel might be, it was still decent fuel for the day. “Mikito, if you’ve got teams that are workable, let’s get them headed north to the dungeon. Get your best team on clearing it. If it manages to replicate, we’ll send another team in till the Mana pool is cleared. We’ll also want scouting teams moving to the communities. I know the Sect might have swept the place before, but now that they’re out of power, we might be able to convince them to join us. Lana, I’ve got the basics up and running, but I want you to keep an eye out for talent. Someone’s going to have to run the city, preferably someones.”

“Benjamin?” Lana says with a raised eyebrow.

I raise my hand horizontally and waggle it. “Let’s not rush this.”

“I’ll look around. But what are you going to do?”

“The city needs money and I need more Levels,” I say, grimacing. “If I could hit Level 40…” I shake my head and push aside my regret. “There’s a National Park close by, so the zone should be decent. Might even have a dungeon or two.”

“Har. So you’ve got us all working and you’re off having fun,” Sam says, waving the last stick of crispy bacon.

“Well, yes.” I could explain how growing my strength means growing the strength of the city and our team, of how I can hunt, fight, and capture faster than anyone here, bringing in a significant amount of Credits. I could even note that I spent the entire day yesterday stuck doing paperwork, but really, I know he’s mostly teasing me.

“Leave your drones, will you?” Sam follows up. “I want to study them.”

“And John, can you have Kim stay in the city? She can be useful to me,” Lana says. “If you’re willing to let me work with her on assigning tasks.”

“It’s an it,” Ali corrects before I can reply.

“THE SENTIENT FORCE IS CORRECT. SURPRISINGLY.”

“Enough, you two,” I growl softly. “Kim, can you download yourself into the settlement’s ummm… core?”

“YES.”

“Good. Do that and follow Lana’s orders,” I say, settling that quickly.

Seeing that no one else has anything else to add, I stand. Time to get rid of some stress and get some experience.

Traveling to the national park wasn’t hard at all. It was barely fifty kilometers from the town itself. Of course, it’s on the other side of the river, which gives the town some protection, but it still isn’t much if the monsters decide to go a-roaming. While most monsters don’t, finding the higher Mana forests more comfortable, it still isn’t a lot of protection. That’s part of the reason why I was swinging by, to make my own evaluation of how dangerous it is. If there’s an Alpha monster or a dungeon in here, it definitely needs taking care of.

“Is taking over the town’s core the only way to win a city?” I ask Ali as I wander through the forest. I don’t bother with the trails since I’m looking for monsters, tossing a spell or two when needed and letting the Spirit dump the body in my Altered Space.

“Nope. Easiest way, but there are others. Kill the guy who owns the place, and if they don’t have a designated heir, it reverts to the killer or whoever is in the town, depending on circumstances. Only works on places that are individually owned. You can also buy up eighty percent of the land in a town. If that happens, the town automatically reverts control to you because you literally own most of it. Of course, if you drop below the eighty percent and gained it that way, you lose control too. Not common these days of course,” Ali says.

“Of course.” I sigh, calling for a Blade Strike, and cut down an overly affectionate mutant-pine tree. There’s something wrong with the concept of carnivorous trees. Especially ones with pink fuzz rather than leaves. “Any reason they can’t just sneak someone in and put their hands on the core to steal the place from us?”

“They could. Been done before, but mostly for places that have better defenses to turn on the original defenders. As it stands, the System notification will alert everyone, so it’s not like they’ll gain much. Kamloops’s defenses would go down in a heartbeat. Doesn’t gain them much and loses them some useful people,” Ali says. “It’s one thing to steal a city, another to keep it. As you’re finding out.”

“Still…” I frown, glancing backward.

“Not their style, boy-o,” Ali reassures me. “And Kim will slow down the changeover long enough for your people to get a-killing. Relax.”

I grunt, accepting his words for now. Still, it may be time to set up some additional security when I get back, something Ben could help with. Be a good test for him too, see if he’s worth working with.

“You figure they’re just going to launch a full-scale attack then?” I say, going back to the original line of questioning. I adjust my saunter through the forest slightly, heading for a few green dots. Better than nothing.

“If you mean a few of their teams, yeah. Might hire some additional help too,” Ali says. “The Sect leans toward the quality-over-quantity approach to fights.”

“Like the Guard.”

“Actually, more like the Dragon Knights. The Erethran armed forces actually leans the other way. Not to say they aren’t tough, but they use a lot of tech at the lower levels, which lets them field a larger force than others. More expensive, but makes them nasty to fight,” Ali says.

“I’ve been wondering about that. My Class is only an Advanced one. Seems a bit low for bodyguards of royalty,” I say.

“Are you concerned about the rarity or the strength?” Ali says, asking for clarification.

“Uhhh…” I take a few moments to finish off the bounding metallic wolf-like creatures attacking me. They might even be wolves. I don’t bother checking. “Both, I guess.”

“To get your Class the normal way, you would need to be assigned to the Honor Guard to start and be at Level 50. Obviously, even if you are Level 50 and refusing to progress, you aren’t necessarily going to get to join the Honor Guard. A lot of people would rather keep progressing than wait around,” Ali explains, dumping the bodies away for me while we head toward the next group of monsters. “As for their strength, I think you’re missing the point. They’re the Guard, the people you have to fight through to get close to the Erethran royal family. You’re not facing one or two or a dozen of them but hundreds. And if you manage to survive all that, well, then you’ll be up against their Champions.”

“Champions?” I frown, tilting my head to the side. “That the Master Class?”

“One of the possibilities. There’s generally only one or two next to the royals—the royals are pretty damn tough themselves. But it’s one way to go,” Ali says, shrugging. “More independent, better individual fighters. Of course, you need to be granted the title and well…”

“I’m not likely to.” I sigh. Right. It’s why I’m not as thrilled by the idea of hitting Level 50 as others might be. Whatever options the System might offer me, it’s probably not going to be what I want. Not as if there are members of the Erethran Royal Family around to grant me a title of Champion. Lack of opportunity sucks. “Whatever. Future John can deal with that problem.”

I grunt, picking up speed as my mind turns once more to the initial question that drove me out here. How do we deal with the Sect? I turn over, again and again, the options offered by Ali.

“We should be drowning them in numbers, shouldn’t we?” I finally say, coming to a halt in a clearing and staring at the sunlight that streams in. I touch my helmet, letting it retract, and let the warmth cover my face as I struggle with the knowledge. “We should arm everyone, get them up on the walls for when they hit us. Drown them in fire and numbers, whittle down their best fighters…” Deal with their quality with our quantity.

“That’d be a good idea.”

“And kill a lot of people,” I whisper, my eyes burning with unshed tears. Anger and pain, mixing on this beautiful day.

“It’s their fight too,” Ali quietly points out.

“I know.”

My mind spins, possibilities opening up. Put the people whose lives are at stake, whose freedom is in play, on the walls to fight. To live and die by their own hand. Help them, sure. But let them sacrifice too.

It’s the smart thing to do.

The right thing to do.

I just have to be willing to let others die.

Later that evening, Lana finds me seated in the same spot where I found Ingrid. Watching the city, drinking from a bottle, mulling over my options.

“Missed you at dinner,” Lana says, plopping down next to me.

In the corner, I’m somewhat startled to note, is Roland, the tiger almost completely hidden except for a pair of glowing eyes. I make a mental note to watch out for the kitty. Its ability to hide is almost as good as Ingrid’s.

“Yeah, sorry. Doing some thinking. How’d the day go?” I say, offering her the bottle.

She takes it and swigs from the bottle before handing it back to me. “Pretty good. Kim was helpful in allocating resources and getting people working, including cleaning up some new buildings. Ben is working on reinforcing some of the thoroughfares as well, and adding a few traps. Can’t do much fast since he doesn’t own the buildings, but his Skills do give us options. He’s talking of creating a ‘fortress city,’ with buildings reinforced and set up to do damage as invaders come in. Kim’s also spending the time to reinforce our System security for the settlement, making it more expensive for others to buy information,” Lana says. “You?”

“Nothing much. Mostly Level 30s out there, nothing to worry about. I accidentally wiped a lair, some moss monster living inside. Didn’t realize it till later, otherwise I might have left it to grow,” I say, shaking my head. Pity. We could have used another dungeon to clear and get the XP bonus from. “Might need to range farther out to find a dungeon.”

“Not the worst thing in the world. So why are you sulking?” Lana says, prodding me with a booted foot.

I grunt, staring at her. “Not sulking. Thinking.” At her raised eyebrow, I find myself elaborating. “Now that we kicked their ass, the next attack is going to be in force. While Ali doesn’t expect them to send any Master Classes, even a high Level Advanced Class or two…”

“Will be more than enough to hold us down. And there’s more of them than there are us,” Lana says, smiling grimly. “That about right?”

“More high Level individuals, yes,” I say, looking at her steadily as I finally say what’s on my mind. “We could beat them if we used everyone. Draw them in, target and whittle down each of their Advanced Classes and make them bleed as they come in.”

“But…”

“But people will die. Probably a lot of them,” I say, waving at the window. “And that’s if we can get them to agree to do it.”

“No guarantee of that,” Lana agrees. “Non-combat Classers aren’t exactly the bravest bunch in general.”

If we had a connection with them, or someone with a very high Charisma score, like Richard, maybe we’d have a better chance of motivating the group. Lana could do it, but she’s got her hands full just organizing things. Then again, not being someone’s slave is pretty good motivation, I’d think. There’s no way to know what they’ll choose really, not without trying.

“But you don’t want them involved, do you?” Lana says, breaking into my thoughts. “Still trying to save the world?”

“No. Not if I can help it. But I don’t see another way.”

Lana smiles, leaning forward, her blouse falling open as she does. My eyes stray downward, and while I’m distracted, she flicks my forehead.

“Owww!” I exclaim. “You know, ever since we started sleeping together, you’ve gotten a lot more violent.”

“And you’ve gotten dumber.” Lana smirks. “When have you ever decided to take the options you’ve been offered?”

“I can’t think of anything else!” I snarl. “It’s not as if I’m a damn soldier. I’m a failed programmer with violent tendencies.”

“You were a failed programmer,” Lana says, her voice dropping, growing gentler. “Whatever you were, you’ve changed. Now you’re something more. You’re our leader.”

“Joy,” I mutter, suddenly feeling so damn tired. I never wanted this. But somehow I’m here, leading a group of people who trust me and a bunch of people who never asked me to.

“Tell me.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me why you don’t want the others to fight,” Lana says.

I meet her eyes, drawn into those violet whirlpools, the insistence in her voice focusing me. “Because… it’s not their job. It’s not what they should be doing. Not if they haven’t chosen to. Civilization, society, it’s been a climb from the bloody muck where everyone fought and killed and died. We built our world with technology and rules and will, so those who weren’t suited to a violent world could live in peace. Now, the drums are rolling and we’re all part of that thin red line of heroes.” Fresh anger bubbles up and leeches into my voice. “And we’re forgetting that damn line is there for a reason. The System might have destroyed our world, but the only people who can destroy who we are is us. And I’ll be damned if I contribute more to that than I have to.”

“Then find another way. And stop complaining.”

I nod, clenching that anger tightly again, pushing at the bubbling frustration. Lana watches, her hand on mine until I settle.

Then she edges closer to plant a gentle kiss on my lips. “Sometimes, not thinking about a problem can be the best way to find a solution.”

I return the kiss, wrapping my arms around her body and holding her generous warmth to me. I draw a deep breath, smelling that intoxicating mixture of fresh air, ionized air, and something that is just her, and kiss her again, harder this time. Perhaps I do need a distraction.

An insistent pinging wakes me from deep slumber, automatic reactions conjuring my sword into my hand as I sit up, startled. I see nothing except for Roland, who stirs slightly at my movements before returning back to watchful stillness, and a still-slumbering redhead. A moment later, a flashing message finally clues me in on what woke me.

“YOU HAVE AN INCOMING COLLECT CALL. WOULD YOU LIKE TO ANSWER IT?”

“Who’d be calling now?” I mutter softly.

Even as quiet as I am, Lana shifts. I freeze, wondering if I woke her, but then I hear the whimpering, the half-filled sobs, and I know. She’s having another of her nightmares. I stroke her head, futilely willing calm into her.

“MAJOR LABASHI RUKA.”

“Ah! Yes, answer it,” I send to Kim mentally.

“CONNECTING.”

“Redeemer, you wished to speak with me?” Labashi’s voice comes over the air, seeming to resound in my head.

Similar to but different from the way Ali talks to me. It’s weird and expensive, since I’m basically paying the System to make the connection, but it does skip past the entire issue of light speed lag and interference. A part of me, the same part that controls my affinity, seems to thrum with familiarity. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to explore it.

“Got a problem. Thought you might be able to help…” When Labashi doesn’t reject my initial proposal, I get right into it, explaining the situation I’ve dragged the team into. “Figured with your experience, you might have a few ideas.”

“Well, my first recommendation would be to augment your forces with external help,” Labashi says. “I’ll even give you a discount. It won’t cost you much since it seems like the Thirteen Moons are already at their limit. There’s a stop order on the boards about them.”

“Oh?” I say, curious.

“Merc boards. We keep a number for information distribution purposes, places for us to talk about things that might affect each other—upcoming wars, new Dungeon Worlds, and the like. The Thirteen Moons have over-extended themselves with their entrance to Earth. They’re over-leveraged and their credit rating wasn’t that great to start with,” Labashi explains. “None of the reputable companies will work with them.”

“Right. So just some companies of ill-repute at best.” I sigh. Better than I had hoped for. It was one of the reasons I contacted Labashi, the potential of external help on both sides making things even more complicated. But if we can hire and they can’t… “That’s good to know.”

“Figure a platoon or two for your town will provide you the extra muscle you’ll need and keep the town safe while you’re gone.”

“Gone?”

“If you’re outnumbered, you shouldn’t be waiting for them to set the tempo. Hit them and keep hitting them. I wouldn’t recommend taking another town though, not unless you’re willing to abandon it,” Labashi says.

“Guerilla tactics?”

“Not exactly. You have a well-known base of operations, among other things. But close enough for your purpose.”

“That can work. Send me the contract. If we can afford it…”

“If not, we have access to some banks,” Labashi says smoothly.

“Send it all. And thank you,” I say, my shoulders finally relaxing.

So. Another option. Well, another two options. Help and a plan. Well, a direction, but I can work on it from there.

Awake now, I find my mind bouncing from thought to thought like a sugar-rushed fairy. With sleep eluding my grasp, I leave a note for Lana and take to the streets, walking my new domain. That’s how I find myself seated in the stands of a baseball field as dawn creeps over the horizon, watching Mikito and a hunter team train together. Facing the tiny Samurai in her Ghost Armor are four individuals: two in melee combat, a spellcaster over thirty feet away, and another fighter who intersperses his body between Mikito and the caster, firing a pair of pistols in staccato rhythm.

A jumping twist sends Mikito spinning through the air in a dodge, her naginata sweeping around her body to force her second assailant to dodge. The moment she lands, she’s spinning aside, taking the impact of the explosive rounds on her armor and building speed to sweep the legs off her initial attacker. Freed, Mikito darts toward the spellcaster.

Before she can reach the caster, the ground erupts in front of her, a rolling, attacking wave of greenery that grasps and stabs. A second is wasted as Mikito cuts and dodges, giving the others time to catch up with her.

“Nice use of the spell,” Ali says softly to me. “A bit wasteful for Mana but against itty-bitty…”

“Yeah,” I agree.

There are three methods of targeting for crowd control spells—manual, area effect, and System-targeted. The first requires you to cast and hit the target—think Spiderman’s webbing, grasping ivy, and the like. The second is like my Polar Zone spell—target it at an area and anything inside gets affected. Including allies, which is less useful for group fights. And lastly, System-targeted spells go through the System, so there’s no dodging them, only resisting. Of course, in terms of cost, the spells go from low to high in order, so while System-targeted spells might be more effective in theory, they’re also significantly more expensive.

I watch the fight, the group surrounding Mikito doing their best to contain and take her down while Mikito takes shots of opportunity at the close-in fighters and attempts to get at the caster. Lowering her body to within inches of the ground and spinning on her feet, Mikito dodges a series of shots that impact against one of the sword-wielders behind her. Surprisingly, the bullets seem to do nothing, glancing off his body.

“What…?”

“Class Skill,” Ali says and flicks his finger.

Friendly Fire (Class Skill)

Reduces damage done to designated friendly targets by attacker. Number of designated friendly units and damage reduced is dependent on Class Skill Level. Mana Regeneration reduced by 5 per Skill Level.

“Useful. But expensive,” I say.

I can see why it’s not a common Skill. Even with their group, he’d need at least two Class Skill points dedicated to it, reducing his Mana regeneration by ten. That’s ten attribute points just to stay even, which can be painful, especially when you’re starting out. On the other hand, the way he’s taking part in the close-combat fight, I can see how they’ve integrated his ability into the fight. Curious, I pay a little closer attention to the shooter, calling up his information.

Mel Furh (Level 26 Gunslinger)

HP: 187/240

MP: 290/290

Conditions: Eagle-eye, Steady Hand

“Interesting,” I say.

The two conditions seem to be exactly what they say—boosts to accuracy and speed of targeting, allowing Mel to run and shoot at Mikito, adding to the sheer volume of attacks she has to deal with. It probably would work better against someone who didn’t have the control of the battlefield that the Samurai does, as she exhibits an uncanny understanding of where everyone is. As she’s explained before, it’s more an understanding of the options available to each individual in relation to the attacks they may use on her than a sixth sense. It’s still impressive.

Close to Mikito, the second melee fighter drops low and pushes his hands outward, fire exploding from his form. It’s the third time he’s done this attack, so it doesn’t catch Mikito by surprise, even if it does blow her aside enough into the path of the bullets.

Rhys Hnaris (Level 23 Mage Adept)

HP: 141/280

MP: 284/380

Conditions: Hasted, Flame Armor, Kinetic Absorption

Who would have thought there’d be a Mage who was willing to get in close? Using a combination of martial arts and spells, he’s holding his own. Mostly. He’s not skilled enough to compete with a dedicated melee fighter, doesn’t have enough physical stats to overpower others, and his Mana pool isn’t that deep. Kind of like a middle ground of all bad choices, if you looked at it statistically. Of course, none of that matters when you’re flexible and prone to pulling out surprises—which the Mage Adept is doing right now. The exploding flame, rather than retreating to his body, flows toward Mikito and wraps around her.

The ranged spellcaster doesn’t hesitate, waving and calling forth her moving greenery spell. This time around, instead of wrapping Mikito directly, she uses the spell to dump earth around the Samurai, entombing her. The swordsman and gunslinger pull back, the former guiding the Adept even farther away by hand. I frown, flicking a glance upward to note that Mikito’s health isn’t dropping too much before I relax.

A slow ten count, the green-brown mound shuddering and jerking with each of those seconds. But while she’s fast, smart, and destructive, Mikito isn’t that strong. She relies on her weapon and precision to add force multipliers to her attacks, rather than raw power like me. In a situation like this, it’s a major disadvantage.

“Impressive,” Ali says.

“She wasn’t fighting that seriously,” I point out. In the few minutes that we’ve watched, I already saw the holes in their offense that she could have exploited if she had gone all out. Among other things, she wasn’t Hasted. “But yes, they’re pretty damn coordinated. Might actually be better than us. Reminds me of Capstan and his original group.”

“They’ve put in a lot of time training their coordination. And they’ve done it in a disciplined manner,” Ali agrees.

As the mound slowly falls apart, a bladed polearm leading the way, I hop down to introduce myself. I’m a bit puzzled why a group this skilled and disciplined isn’t higher Leveled. The fact that they’re willing to be out here in the early hours of the morning speaks to their dedication.

“Hello there,” I greet the group, smiling. Not that they haven’t noticed me.

I get grunted and verbal greetings. Mikito offers me a single nod before she casts a Cleanse spell on herself to rid herself of soot and dirt.

After a round of greetings, I congratulate and praise them. It’s something I know needs to be done—boost their self-confidence, let them know they’re doing well. Lead, I guess, if you wanted to think of it that way. Which is why I’m surprised when the Gunslinger snorts.

“No need to pour sunshine up our ass. Mikito was holding back,” Mel says, the well-built brunet grinning as he speaks. “She could have taken us at any point if she hadn’t limited her abilities and tactics.”

His harsh words get a round of nods from his team—and it’s clear, it’s his team.

“Huh.” His bluntness give me pause for a moment. “How come you guys are so low Leveled?”

“The Sect,” Rhys answers, grimacing. “They took on anything that was higher Level, limited our hunting to lower Level zones and limiting the amount of time we could hunt. They wanted us to stay well below their Levels. Made it easier for us to be controlled. Rather than get ‘relocated for better opportunities,’ we decided to limit our growth ourselves.”

“They could stop us from Leveling, but they couldn’t stop us from training,” Mel says, his hands casually resting on the butts of his pistols. I look at the pistols again and realize I recognize those giant, ugly pistols, but I’m unsure why. Seeing my look, Mel smiles slightly and pulls one out, finger off the trigger and holding it pointed up and away slightly, for me to see it properly. “Desert Eagle. More a toy than a weapon before the change, but with my added strength…”

“You were shooting exploding rounds,” I say, frowning. “Didn’t realize they had those.”

“Class Skill. I’m able to make specialized ammunition that works with my weapons. Upgraded them all myself too, so they work with the System,” Mel explains.

“Can they…?”

“Nope. Tried it already,” Mel says. “Seems to be locked to me, so I can’t provide the rounds or guns to others. Might change at higher Levels, but for now, it’s only the craftsmen who can do that.”

“Your Class…” I ask, unsure about the etiquette on this matter but curious anyway. We’re all still figuring things out after all.

“Gunslinger. You could call me a bit of a gun nut before this. Was in the army for a few years. Infantry. Was in between deployments to Afghanistan when the System hit. That first day, I grabbed at the Class when it came,” Mel says. “Wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being a Rifleman.”

“Ah.” I nod in agreement. Yes, the System was known to hand out skill- or hobby-appropriate Classes. Still, surprising that he got what I’m assuming is a somewhat uncommon or even maybe rare Class in a city like this. Then again, luck does have a part to play in all this. “Seems like an interesting Class.”

“I think so,” Mel says, flashing me a grin. “Mikito tells me you were planning on hitting Kelowna earlier, but stopped?”

“Yup. I figured it’d be good to attack them if we wiped out their Advanced Class team, but…” I shrug, acknowledging our failure. “Didn’t work out. Probably a bad idea anyway.”

“Why’d you say that?” Mel says, frowning.

“Well, a friend pointed out that we’d be over-stretching ourselves. We wouldn’t be able to defend either place adequately,” I say, remembering Labashi’s advice.

“Only if you intended to defend it. Nothing wrong with wiping out their people then pulling back, draining the place of any resources you can get your hands on,” Mel says. “Hell, if you threw up some basic defenses, no guarantee they’d be willing to go after it.”

“Oh…?”

“We’re right smackdab in their zone of control. Only reason the other team wasn’t here was because they were expanding out east. If you knock them out, all the cities around us would be in a precarious position geographically. Nothing to support them—which means they might not risk more people to take a marginal place,” Mel says.

“Risky,” Mikito says, frowning.

I note that Rhys is nodding as well.

“Of course, but what do you lose out? Might widen their options, but if you don’t care about losing the cities…”

“And the people who live in those cities?” I ask softly, my voice cold.

Mel’s broad shoulders move in a dismissive gesture. Before I can say anything else, another group wanders into the training grounds. Mikito takes the opportunity to order the groups to train together, gripping my arm to pull me away.

“Bit of a dick, isn’t he?” I say, not bothering to lower my voice.

“He’s actually got a pretty decent set,” Ali says, glancing at me.

Mikito ignores the rude Spirit, speaking to me instead. “He’s not wrong. Nor are you. But I don’t think you are here to talk to my people?”

“Your people?” I say, then move on before she can answer. “I was, a little. Thought I’d get a firsthand look at them, maybe give a few encouraging words. Also wanted to let you know that we’ve got some Hakarta coming in to reinforce the city in a few days, once their transport drops them off. Well, and I sign the papers.”

“Hakarta?” Mikito frowns then glances at the group before nodding. “You want me to warn the hunters.”

“Right. I’ll get Lana on it too, but well…”

“They’re more likely to do damage,” Mikito says, nodding. “Consider it done.”

“Thanks.” I watch the groups spar. I frown, shifting my feet, considering if I should stick around.

Mikito steps in front of me, blocking my vision. “You should go.”

“But…”

“You have better things to do. And your presence is not beneficial,” Mikito says, smiling slightly to take the sting out of her words.

“I…”

“Go. I have this,” Mikito says, waving.

“Fine,” I grumble and head off, kind of upset she’s kicking me out.

I’ll admit I’m not the most charismatic or nice individual, but I’m not that bad! Still, I do have paperwork to review and others to speak with. Resigning myself to further work, I head off.

Chapter 11

“Again,” Mikito says firmly as I come to an end of the form.

I glare at the woman for a moment before sighing and walking back to the center of the room we’ve taken over to restart the sword form. One of the advantages of owning most of a city, places like a school gymnasium are easy to find and the bonus in training speeds is a plus.

Before I can begin, Mikito says, “Focus on your edge. It’s still shifting at the end. And at step three and seven, shift back a half inch.”

I grunt, nod, and begin. The form I use, that I train, is the same one I deduced over a year ago from what I saw on recordings of Erethran Honor Guard fights. In particular, there’s a certain blue-haired woman whose style I’m attempting to mimic, a way of using the Soulbound weapon more effectively. It requires me to summon and banish my blades as I attack and defend. Together, Mikito and I have further refined it, adding the additional blades from Thousand Blades so that I can form a never-ending ring of swords around my body. In theory—and with some practice—the form allows me to attack and defend at the same time, constraining openings as the floating blades cut off lines of attack.

Sadly, while Mikito might be trained, smart, and dedicated, she was also limited by her past. Human martial arts don’t contain much knowledge about floating weapons that move in their own paths, so we’re both struggling to figure out the best ways to use this Skill of mine. Since the recordings we have are of the lady in actual combat, replicating them into forms that I can use to train was difficult. If it weren’t for the fact that I heal constantly, I’d be littered with wounds.

It’s only after I’ve run through the forms another four times that Mikito calls it a day. At least for the theory portion of our early morning training session. As I stretch and rub at the latest cut, smearing blood over my skin, Mikito is gently stretching.

“Ready?” the young Japanese woman asks me.

“Limits?” I answer.

“No Skills for the first three rounds. Then we’ll increase. Choose one Skill or spell to add each round,” Mikito suggests.

I nod. “Sounds fun.”

I grin, calling forth my sword and getting into my guard. Right foot forward, hand held slightly above waist high and slightly outside my right knee. Left hand close to my angled body, weight distributed evenly.

Once Mikito sees I’m in guard, she moves, leaping forward. My eyes widen slightly, the change of pace and style catching me off guard for a microsecond. Luckily, my reflexes don’t stop, shifting my sword to aim toward the fast-moving body, and it clashes with her naginata even as the Japanese woman spins away. I catch a glimpse of laughing eyes, the sheer joy of letting go without concern for safety, before I have to focus. Still, a grin creeps across my face.

An hour plus later, we’re both seated on the ground, panting. Stamina might not necessarily be a major concern during fights for either of us—well, me—but training is different. We’re purposely attempting to remove all our Stamina, pushing ourselves to the state where we’re tired and start making mistakes. The kind of mistakes that only happen when you can barely lift your hand.

As I stare at the ceiling, I can’t help but ask, “How are you doing?”

“Recovering. Eight minutes,” Mikito says wryly.

Of course it’s eight minutes. It’s mostly the same for me. That’s one of the oddities of the System—it takes the same amount of time for everyone to reach their peak level. Of course, what that peak level is is different, but still. An oddity. Only Class Skills make a difference.

“I meant with the hunting groups,” I say, clarifying matters. It’s been days since we arrived and Mikito has taken on the role of guide without complaint.

“It is good. They’re more hesitant than those in Whitehorse. More jumpy. I’m spending time building up their confidence,” Mikito says with a frown. “The Sect has done well to condition these guys to play it safe. Getting them to risk a little has been the hardest thing.”

I nod, understanding her point. Still, it wasn’t what I was asking. Even if we’ve only known each other for a bit, she’s still a friend. And a year ago, she lost her husband and her family. Now I’m asking her to take care of strangers and train them to put themselves in front of monsters. “And you?”

“I’m fine,” Mikito says, offering me a slight smile.

It’s a deflection. I know it. She knows it. But I don’t push it, because, well, it’d be rude. And talking about our emotions, about how we feel, isn’t really something either of us is comfortable doing. Blame our culture, our upbringing, or just our nature. In the end, the results are the same.

“Okay then,” I say softly. “So tell me what I did wrong this time.”

Mikito smiles slightly, leaning forward to speak. After she’s done, I’ll give her my own notes. And then, well, we’ll do it all again tomorrow.

I frown, staring at the converted block of buildings. What used to be squat, utilitarian concrete buildings have transformed, becoming one squat, utilitarian concrete building with weapon emplacements. A concrete extension, seeming to have grown from the corner of the building, joins the apartments to the two-story retail shops next to it. Above the retail stores, sandbags and molded steel sit on the rooftops, providing cover and protection for defenders. Just above, mostly hidden, I see flashes of greenery where the apartment complex’s garden thrives. As Lana said, the building is impressive.

As I walk up to the main entrance, Benjamin walks out to greet me with a smile. Behind him, protected by sheets of metal, are guards, each carrying registered rifles. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see security cameras dotting the walls, watching me as I approach.

“Johnathan, thank you for taking me up on my invitation,” Benjamin says with a smile, offering his hand.

“It’s just John,” I say, shaking his hand. Once again, I eye the thin Architect. His invitation was a surprise, though it shouldn’t have been. After all, I had “felt out” Roxley myself. There’s no reason Benjamin wouldn’t want to do the same with me.

“Come on up. Or would you like the tour first?”

“Mmm… dinner first,” I say with a smile.

Interestingly enough, Benjamin doesn’t live on the top floor but the sixth. His apartment is small, cozy even, with the look of a well-lived building. Children’s toys and discarded clothing are scattered on the floor of the living room, around a worn beige couch, and a smiling lady greets me as I step in.

“This is Susan, my wife,” Benjamin says, then he’s tackle-hugged at the knees. He pats the child’s head. “And Julia, my daughter.”

“Mr. Lee.” A hand is offered to me, which I shake. Ben’s wife has long, curly, light brown hair and is wearing a simple summer dress that hugs a thin figure. “Please, sit. Dinner will be served soon.”

“Thank you,” I say, letting Ben and Susan guide me to the dining room. Surprisingly, I find Mel seated already. “Mel.”

“Ms. Sato mentioned that we should have Mel over for dinner too,” Benjamin says as we take a seat.

“Not a problem,” I say. “Mikito tells me your team was the one who managed to clear the dungeon?”

“Yes. That completion bonus was quite good,” Mel says, eyes glinting with humor. “I’m beginning to understand how you guys Leveled so fast, especially if what Mikito said was true about the number of dungeons you had to deal with.”

“There were a few,” I say, leaning forward. “Tell me about this one.”

Mel tilts his head, regarding me for a second before expounding on the dungeon. I lead him on, getting a feel for how they did and what he thought. Mel’s interesting—he’s dry and clinical and extremely detailed about the dungeon, almost as if he’s providing a report. Only when Susan arrives with dinner do we switch topics and speak about lighter matters. The weather, cute new animals, the burgeoning education and daycare system she’s involved in. Topics more suited for the ears of the four-year-old joining us.

The meal is delicious and filling—matzah ball soup followed by a roast with pureed carrots and potato pancakes, and after that, mashed potatoes and salad and a stew. Beef stew perhaps, though I wouldn’t have bet on that for the meat. Tasty and chewy anyway.

When dinner is over, Julia is taken by Susan to her room, Ben’s wife giving him a look I’m unable to read.

“Shall we take a walk?” Ben asks, gesturing toward the door. “I’d love to show you around the apartments.”

“Sure,” I say readily, curious about the building and his Skills. It doesn’t hurt that we’ll actually get to the meat of this meeting finally. As nice as a home-cooked meal and the evening was, it’s pretty draining playing at this social game.

No surprise, Mel follows us as we walk.

As we head down the corridor to the elevators, Ben speaks. “Sam tells me he’s not really from the Yukon. He joined you later?”

“Yes.”

“Ah…” Ben pauses, realizing I’m not going to elaborate. “Well, he seems to have gotten along well with you.”

“He’s got an interesting Class,” I reply.

Mel’s eyes tighten, but he doesn’t say a thing.

“Very true. There’s been some interesting synergy between his Class and the Mechanics, Engineers, and other craftsmen in town. Now that they’re working together with a wider range of resources, they’re managing to develop some interesting inventions,” Ben says. “Ah, you might be interested in this.”

Ben stops at a door, opening it and pointing at where the original apartment building expanded to join the retail stores. For a time, he explains the various security measures and his Skill, detailing Mana and point cost, the self-improving nature of the building. It’s an interesting discussion, but as we speak, I can see Mel getting more and more impatient.

When we’re finally out of the join, Mel speaks. “What are your plans for us? For the residents.”

“What do you mean?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t seem intent on leaving. Are you intending to choose people based off their Class and Skills? Off Levels?” Mel says belligerently.

“Choose what?” I ask softly, playing obtuse.

“The people in charge. Don’t think we’ve not noticed that everyone in charge is someone with a high Level or one of you Yukoners.”

“Well, we are somewhat more experienced,” I say, shrugging. “Thus the higher Levels.”

“Bullshit,” Mel snaps. “Ben here knows more about city planning than you do. He was on a damn city council, for god’s sake. And Mikito might know how to fight, but she’s still learning about tactics. At least you’ve got Sam and Torg dealing with your farming and crafting.”

“Figuring we’re not competent?”

“Not competence. Lacking a little experience perhaps,” Ben interjected.

Mel says, “You kids have—”

“Kids? You might be a decade or two older, but we’re not exactly children,” I snap, then draw a deeper breath. “And who’s the kid? You both are nearly half our Levels. Whether you like it or not, those Levels matter.”

“As does pre-System experience!” Mel snaps. “You think your Levels are all important while—”

“While you aren’t paying us enough respect for what we’ve done.”

“I’m sure Mel wasn’t insulting you on purpose,” Ben says quickly, stepping between us. “We’re all just looking to help out where we can.”

“Maybe. But calling me a kid isn’t helping,” I say angrily. “We’ve got the experience of actually building up a city in this new System world. And yeah, we might not have the same skills you had, but we sure as hell have done it before.”

“And we understand that,” Ben says, shooting a glare at Mel to shut him up. “But we’d also like to know what your plans are for the city.”

“Not much to tell. We’re going to do our best to get the city into shape, give you all the boost that we’ve found worked in the Yukon to become a functioning city,” I say. “We’ll kick the Sect’s ass too, while we’re at it. In the meantime, if you guys want to help, we need you to continue Leveling up and helping keep things contained. Whether you like it or not, till the Sect is dealt with, we’re the city’s best hope.”

“Fine. We’ll continue Leveling up, but you guys better start talking to those of us from Kamloops. We won’t take being locked out of our city. Not again, and not by a… by humans,” Mel says huffily.

I nod. He’s a bit short-tempered and gruff perhaps, but I get it. And I do have plans for them—but it’s not time to tell him just yet.

The next week passes in a blur. The Hakarta platoons arrived yesterday. They integrate pretty well, mostly because my team and I take the time to ensure everyone is settled with their presence before we head out. I guess when you have a walking, talking, mostly polite humanoid and compare it to the slavering, carnivorous monsters that lie outside the cities, you get a little bit of perspective. Helps when the polite green humanoid looks as though he could rip you apart if you weren’t polite.

In the course of the week, Mikito’s able to drag the average Level up by one, which is pretty impressive when you consider how few high-Level zones are around here. I’m once more reminded how “lucky” we were in Whitehorse.

“DRONES ONLINE,” Kim flashes at me, and my minimap updates.

A second later, another larger map appears in front of me, providing a real-time feed of the surrounding areas. While the bionetwork continues to grow out, the modified sensor drones will help fill in the gap and provide more detailed information. For now, Kim has them on a routine sweep.

“Thanks.” I stare at the information, watching data flicker and update before stabilizing. I dismiss the map after a second, and the view of the roadway where we wait reappears. The rest of the team hasn’t arrived yet, so it’s Sam and me standing in the middle of the road west, sharing the map information that he’s fed to the settlement. “Good work there, Sam.”

The Technomancer grunts his acknowledgement, head still in the bowels of his modified truck. Now that he has had the time and supplies, he’s been upgrading his transportation, adding everything from anti-gravity plates to plate armor. The most eye-catching addition is the anti-tank beam cannon mounted on the roof, a weapon that feeds off its own power supply. It doesn’t have a lot of shots, but it’d hurt even me.

“Keep the teams to the north for now,” Mikito instructs the group that trails her as she turns the corner. “Remember, the Hakarta are here to help, but you all are still the primary defense force. You need to pull the teams back in time for you to join the convoy. Watch your rotations!”

“We got it,” Mel grumbles, shaking his head. “I’ve done this before you know.”

Mikito’s lips purse, but she nods shortly, leaving the group.

Coming from around the other corner, Lana’s doing much the same with her tiny retinue. Torg, Benjamin, and a few others who make up the new city council listen to the redhead. While they still aren’t happy, the short-term solution of using a group of locals to oversee the day-to-day has settled the locals down somewhat. Unlike Mikito, Lana’s mostly just saying goodbye and letting them know our general plans. Rather than breaking away, the group follows Lana all the way to me.

“John,” Benjamin greets me with a smile, eyes sweeping over our group as we get ready to leave. “We’ll keep the city ticking for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile in gratitude. I’m not stupid—I understand the risk in giving this group of strangers as much access and power as I am, but it’s not as if I have that much time. Better to trust that Lana picked them right and that Kim can keep them contained while I get on with the important parts of keeping everyone alive. Not to mention the fact that unless they’re really stupid, they’ll wait to take over until the current danger has passed. No reason for me to stick around and help them out if they take the city from me.

“Not sure what I’m doing on the council,” Torg mutters, shaking his head as he returns to a familiar complaint.

“You know farming. System farming to be exact. The city mostly does farming. Seems like the perfect fit to me,” I say.

“I’m just a Serf…” Torg peters off as everyone else looks at him. He sighs, giving up.

Still, I make a mental note to keep an eye on him and look for a replacement. Never know if he’d choose to leave for a more established city.

“Right, you guys keep the city running. Get the convoy up and running. We won’t be gone too long, if everything works out well. Kim can contact us if necessary and has an idea of what we want done. Mostly though, keep building, keep growing in Levels, and keep strengthening our defenses,” I say.

After that, getting on the road takes no time. Lana joins Sam in his truck while Mikito and I ride ahead. About half an hour later, we exit the sensor envelope around Kamloops and find the last member of the team waiting for us.

“Ingrid.” I pull Sabre to a stop, leaning forward as I sweep my gaze over her body. Nothing out of place and she looks, if not relaxed, at least somewhat neutral.

“John. Ladies,” Ingrid says, her gaze lingering on Sam’s truck before she shakes her head and dismisses whatever thought is bugging her. “You got my message?”

“Yes,” I say, tapping my helmet so I can at least speak with her eye-to-eye. Really, a part of me wonders why I bother with a helmet. I’m strong enough that I could fall off the bike onto my head at a hundred miles an hour and only get a tiny ouchie. But years of training seems to hold true, making me feel really uncomfortable on the bike if I don’t have the helmet on.

Before Ingrid can answer further, Shadow, who has crept up next to her, assaults her with a giant, slobbery tongue. A few minutes later, after Ingrid has finally pried herself away from Lana’s puppy and its shadow—and how a shadow slobbers and licks is somewhat mind-bending—she is more calmly greeted by the girls and Sam, leaving me drumming my fingers in impatience.

“They pulled everyone from Vernon?” I say slowly.

“Yes,” Ingrid says.

“And you’re certain there isn’t anyone in town?” I mutter.

“Certain? No. But I’m pretty sure the Sect grabbed all of their people and their Serfs,” Ingrid says. “If they’re there, they’re so well hidden we can’t see them. They might really be gone."

“What do you intend to do?” Lana says, tilting her head toward me, a lock of hair falling across her face to be angrily brushed aside.

“Take the city. Organize those who are willing and have them leave for Kamloops. Then I’m going to sell the city back to the System,” I say.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Maji?”

“Why?”

I turn to Sam, who asks that last question. “We can’t hold the city. And with our population so shot, there’s no point in keeping a ton of tiny little enclaves. Better to concentrate our people where we can to grow faster. Also, the Credits from selling a town can be—”

“Lucrative,” Ali says, flashing a wide, shit-eating grin. “That’s how John got Sabre.”

I see lots of nods, but of course, it’s Ingrid who asks the obvious question. “You going to share?”

Organizing Vernon and getting its citizens moving back toward Kamloops is painful. People are stubborn, emotional, and irrational, and even in the face of incontrovertible proof that their town is dying if not dead, many still refuse to leave. It takes all of Lana’s significant Charisma to convince most of them to pack. There’s no way we can guard them all, no way to keep them safe from the monsters or the Sect if they are out on the limb. And yet, some refuse. Some because they don’t believe us. Some because they believe it’s another test. But Lana does her thing as do the others to a smaller extent, and we slowly get a stream of others in. Of course, the next problem is transporting people back to Kamloops.

“We ready yet?” Sam asks. “The convoy should be ready by now.”

“How long will it take?” I frown, trying to mentally gauge how long it’d take to send a message back to get the convoy moving to us. Then again, until we have at least the majority of people sorted and out of the way, I’m not going to even attempt to enter the City Center. Just because we haven’t run into any traps or resistance yet doesn’t mean there isn’t any.

“Hour or so. Should just be about right for the pickup,” Sam says, turning to his truck. He stares at it for a second, and a panel in the back rolls back, a drone floating upward. I can see portions of my drones in it—the dragonfly’s base framework has been bulked up and altered. The resulting drone is no longer a surveillance drone but something bigger, nastier, and greyer. A pair of beam rifles stick out from its side, and a smaller dish hangs below the undercarriage. “I’ll let Kim know. Shouldn’t take more than an hour and it can hone in on me later.”

“When did you build it?” I ask, looking over the new drone. Not what I was expecting, since this drone is significantly different from my own and the ones around the city.

“In the last few days, after I modified the others for Kim. Have about a half dozen drones in store, though I can only control three right now. Well, three with any degree of control,” Sam says quite proudly. “I got fed up of hiding inside Mikito’s PAV.”

I smile and send Sam off to send the message while I walk around quietly. As always, Mikito has taken on the role of dealing with the few hunters while Lana’s in the midst of organizing the others. I pitch in with Lana where I can, cajoling and answering questions, but it’s no surprise that Lana and eventually Sam are the main go-tos. I’m more than content to let them deal with the crowd, and I eventually break off when Ingrid makes her way back.

“So…?” I ask.

“Traps. Lots of them. The entire building’s wired to blow. Multiple spells and turrets are set up to deal damage if anyone tries to enter the Core. Probably some mines too,” Ingrid says, shaking her head. “Wasn’t easy to get close enough to look. The townsfolk cordoned off the place. I hear a few people were injured before they realized the problem.”

“Can you disarm it?” I ask.

“What do I look like?” Ingrid says sarcastically.

I wince at her tone and glance at Sam, wondering if he could be of use.

“Don’t bother, boy-o,” Ali says. “He doesn’t have the Skill for this. Or skill. Disarm Traps or its equivalent is a specialized thing. You’d need both to do a proper disarm.”

“Great.” I frown, considering my options.

“What are you worried for? Toss your Soul Shield on and walk in,” Ali says, waving. “Just keep casting your Heal spells and you’ll be good.”

“Just walk in?” I say, somewhat amused. “One does not just walk in—”

“With your health, Skills, and spells?” Ali says. “Yes. Yes. You do. Unless you want to take a few days slowly whittling down the defenses.”

“Then we stick to the plan,” I say, gesturing to the group of humans still being slowly moved and guided out.

The second convoy departs as I speak, enough transportation scrounged together to make a group large enough to make sense to send out with our limited number of hunters. I can only hope the rest of the hunter teams arrive from Kamloops. We didn’t want too many of our own people in the initial scouting groups, but now that we know what the situation is, it’s time to get moving.

Hours. It takes hours for transportation to arrive from Kamloops and the refugees to pack themselves in. The hunter groups from Kamloops are finally here, spread out to play guard over the convoy. Lana and Sam are in the midst of it all, organising people and directing them to vehicles, bargaining and explaining why, no, bringing Grandma’s armoire isn’t going to work. It’s stupid, irrational, and emotional and why I’m dodging it all, seated as I am on a nearby office tower and watching the roads, staring at the data Ali feeds me.

It’s there that Ingrid finds me. “Nothing?”

“Not yet,” I say, my fingers rolling a chocolate bar around and around. “I could have sworn they’d have hit us by now.”

“Might be waiting for you to take the city,” Ingrid offers, gesturing toward the abandoned building which houses the City Core.

“They can’t think I’m that stupid.” Maybe I’m being paranoid, but this feels too much like a trap. There’s no way I’d go in while the city is still mostly populated, never mind the threat of an attack if I’m stuck making my way to the City Core.

“Stupid is as stupid does,” Ingrid says.

“And boy, have you done some stupid things,” Ali adds.

“We set?” I say to Ingrid, ignoring Ali, and receive a nod in reply. I relax slightly, grateful that whatever the reason for the delay, we’ve set up our own little series of surprises.

“Would I be here otherwise?” Ingrid snarks back.

I open my mouth to reply, but something on the horizon catches my eye. I frown, zooming in with the helmet, the dot growing bigger at an astounding rate. A pair of stubby wings, a flattened, cone-shaped body in grey, and stubs of metal pointing out of it is what I see. Behind it, bigger, blockier airships follow at a more sedate pace.

“Shit!” I mentally command the radio on. “We have incoming airships. Get everyone off the streets and hidden. Sam, we’re going to need that gun of yours. Ingrid, Mikito, get ready to intercept when their ground-pounders arrive.”

Even as I speak, the dot I noticed has expanded significantly, now visible to the naked eye. A moment later, its weapons start tearing up buildings with brilliant blue beams of destruction. I throw myself off the building, crossing the distance to another, my Soul Shield flaring into a brilliant corona of reds and blues as energy bleeds over.

I run and dodge, the attacks seeming to be fixed on me. A few eternal seconds later, my Soul Shield having fallen and my exposed skin blackened, the attack cuts off. The booming echo of too-fast airships and crumbling buildings rings through my ears. My breath comes hurriedly, the filtered air from the helmet stale and sterile. On a partly crumbled building, I swing my hand up and ignore the falling black dots that make up air-inserted Sect members. My team will have to deal with the invaders disembarking from the transport ships. My job is to fix my mistake. I should have known about the damn airships.

My hand rises, my mind fixing on the fast-retreating airship that is already turning, and I make the connection. Lower the potential on one side, increase it on the other. Use Mana to restrict the flow, my Elemental Affinity to reduce the bonds in the channel. Then more Mana to start the process, even as arcane symbols and thoughts flicker through my mind. Lightning explodes from my hand, reaching across the distance in a blink of an eye, and I channel the raw forces of nature. Ali darts forward into the stream, focusing the flow and intensifying it with his ability.

Around the gunships, shields flares to life, taking the damage I dish out as the lightning jumps from ship to ship. Those shields are more than enough to deal with my initial blast, but I have the connection now and I refuse to let them hold the high ground. A part of me rails against my stupidity at forgetting that there is no dragon to rule the skies. That out here, airpower is actually possible. People are dying, people have died, because I made a mistake and all I can do is pay them back in kind.

Beams of fire targeted at my unmoving form, my refreshed Soul Shield glowing as it sheds damage. Seconds before my shield falls, so does the lead gunship’s. More power, channeled through Ali, shorts out electronics and melts armor while my flesh cooks. A corner of my mind spots a beam of destruction stab upward from the ground, Sam’s truck taking out the second airship. Pain wraps around me like clingfilm, my nerves frying, my body burning. Suddenly, blessed relief from the mounting pain as the beam cuts off, the remainding airship peeling away.

“Enough, boy-o,” Ali shouts, and I realize he’s been doing so for a couple of seconds.

I kill the lightning, collapsing to my knees as my body struggles to heal. Flesh reknits, my hair slowly regrowing, burnt skin flaking off. A hand scrambles to the side and injects a health potion into my body to speed up the healing process. I know the System reduced some of the damage for me, reducing the actual effect of the damage to simulate my resistances and my health points. Hell, it even reduced how much it hurt. System-weirdness.

“Time to move,” Ali says, expanding the map so that I can see the converging red dots.

I made a target of myself, and if it weren’t for the hunter teams from Vernon and Kamloops and my friends slowing them down and distracting them, I’d be dealing with the landed Sect members.

John Lee

HP: 487/1700

MP: 729/1310

Conditions: Crispy

I stagger upward, eyeing my condition, and cast a quick Greater Healing and Greater Regeneration in short order. Should have done a second earlier, but I was so damn angry. Still am, but the armor I’m wearing is mostly gone and my health is nearly shot. Sabre first, then combat.

“Status,” I say over the party communications, wondering how things are going as I drop to the ground. Sabre’s on autopilot as it winds through the broken roads to me.

“Forty-three Sect members are in the city. They’re working in groups of five when they can, but we’re working on breaking them up. Levels range from around 30 plus to Advanced Classes, I’d guess,” Sam says, his voice gruff and hurried, as if he’s got something better to do. “Mikito and Lana and her pets are leading the combat teams in direct fights, but that Blood Warrior and Rock Thrower you were talking about are tearing through any group they find. We’re avoiding them for now but…”

“Forty-two,” Ingrid says, breaking into the conversation. “But we need you out there, John.”

“On it. Just getting Sabre.” I hurry toward the intersection I know Sabre is rushing into. Instinct and the map make me jerk to a stop before I enter the intersection and expose myself. A large twisting cone of energy and vines rips through the air in front of me. “Might be a bit delayed.”

I conjure my sword and a few trailing blades, gather myself, then jump upward and sideways slightly. I land against the building’s wall, legs bunching beneath me as they take the impact and release, throwing me at an angle upward and forward. Spinning through the air, I lash out with Blade Strike as I clear the building, sending blade energy streaking toward my attackers.

Small fry, I note quickly, even as I conjure a fireball. I send it toward the group scrambling from my earlier attack. The fireball flies toward the group, a Sect member already raising his hand to conjure a shield of ice. That’s when I surprise them by Blink Stepping into their midst, ignoring my own fireball. It’s an insane move, stepping right into your own explosion, and that’s why none of them expect it.

Cutting right, I slice apart the fast-acting Mage, breaking his incipient spell and ducking behind his bleeding form, using his half-severed body as cover for when the fireball arrives. Everything is moving in slow motion it seems, but it snaps back into place when the fireball erupts, throwing red and gold destruction around like a child given a bag of confetti. Compared to being cooked alive by the gunship’s beam weapon, this just hurts.

“Die,” I snarl, lunging forward and skewering another Sect member.

A third, struggling up from being thrown aside by the fireball, gets run over by Sabre. I throw myself toward the bike, triggering the change and stomping on the struggling form with one newly metal-covered leg. The others are easy to mop up after that, the added firepower of the mecha adding to the carnage.

Exhaling, I take a couple of seconds to get my breath back. Then it’s time to get moving. Minutes of running and dodging, hunting down the glowing red, green, and blue dots of enemies on my minimap ensue.

There’s no planning on my part, instead giving control to Sam, who has a better view of the fight with his drones and isn’t directly in combat, stuck as he is in his truck. I bounce from group to group, adding an onslaught of sudden death to existing and burgeoning fights, never stopping as I attempt to close with the Blood Warrior. Problem is, he’s split himself a couple of times and his blood clones are running around, clogging up my minimap. The two I manage to catch are easy enough to dispatch—one easier than the other—but even watered down, they’re too tough for anyone except the core team to deal with. And if any of the team actually runs into the main body, it’ll go real bad real fast. Thankfully, Sam reports that Lana and her pets have run into the Rock Thrower, the group and her hunting team ganging up to take him down.

I round the next corner and spot a glowing threesome ready for the picking. Except I’m not the only one with sensors and information and these three hit me with a combined spell. Wind, electricity, and kinetic force cut, fry, and smash into Sabre’s shield, their combined spell throwing me through a nearby building and the next one too.

Sabre’s shield had taken a beating even before this and doesn’t last under the onslaught, meaning that the mecha’s armor has to take the brunt of it. Damage bleeds through—it always bleeds through—cracking a rib and searing newly healed skin, the smell of slightly cooked flesh re-assaulting my nose. I keep rolling, getting out of the line of sight, which does little when they fire a series of grenades inside and blow me out the other side of the wall.

This time around, I Blink Step mid-explosion, throwing myself onto the top of a nearby building using Ali’s line of sight. Head spinning from the attack, I struggle to orient myself as I stagger to my feet. A glimpse of figures below is all I need to act on instinct and return fire, launching my entire rack of missiles at the group. It’s overkill for a trio of Mages, but they pissed me off.

“Sorry about the trap, boy-o. They layered some invisibility spells to hide what they were up to and I didn’t manage to pierce them in time,” Ali says.

It’s a horrible trade, three Sect members for two-thirds of Sabre’s armor and even more of my Mana. I snarl, running again as I search for more, the smoking remnants of the town surrounding me. Vernon was never a big city—mostly three-, four-story office buildings in short blocks—which means I end up on the road again in short order. The city is ruined, smoldering hulks of buildings and spreading fires all around me. The Sect cares not a whit about collateral damage as they attack our people.

“Two blocks down, keep going this way,” Sam says, his voice urgent. I speed up, refreshing my spells and the shield’s, watching my Mana drop again. “The Blood Warrior—or one of his clones—is about to intersect with you.”

I grin wolfishly, happy that something is going my way. I raise the automatic rifle strapped to my arm, making sure that the armor piercing and high explosive rounds are cycled and ready. Comparatively low amount of damage, but the Inlin spits out enough projectiles that it makes up for some of it. In my other hand, I have my sword, ready to release a Blade Strike. On top of that, I prep the sonic pulser, pulling out all the stops when the Blood Warrior arrives.

The ear-piercing shriek, set at decibels high enough that it can shatter glass and screw with an individual’s inner ear, explodes outward the moment the Blood Warrior crosses the road. The red, fluid figure informs me that I’m not fighting the original, just one of his clones. Still, the sonic pulse is enough to make it shudder to a stop, disturbing ripples flowing along its “flesh” as the pulser assaults it. Time enough for me to drop all of my rounds into it, the projectiles alternately exploding or piercing its form.

“You!” the clone snarls. “You killed my friends.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried killing us!” I snarl and keep running at it, releasing a wave of energy from my sword and its trailing counterparts.

The clone twists and dodges by jumping over and between the flying crescents of energy, a display of agility that has me slightly envious. Even with my own enhanced stats, I’m not entirely sure I’d be willing to try that, especially not with the amount of time he has to react.

“You attacked us first,” the creature says as it lands and thrusts its palm at me. A spike of blood juts outward, slamming directly into my shield.

Momentum shatters the spike and the Soul Shield at the same time, letting me tackle the monster to the ground. I reach upward and slam my sword down to the side of him, trusting the arc of my attack to send the blades that trail alongside to cut into the ground beside the clone, trapping it. Doesn’t matter where it goes, it’s going to get cut.

“This isn’t over!” the clone snarls, stabbed through its chest by one of the trailing blades as it squirms aside.

I channel Freezing Blade, tired of listening to it, when the blood clone ripples then explodes, the explosion throwing me backward.

“Asshole,” I say with a groan. Flashing lights in Sabre telling me that the explosion has done even more damage to the poor mecha.

“That’s another group gone,” Ali says, coming over to where I struggle to my feet.

That makes four. Even if I’m locating and killing the damn Sect members as fast as I can, they’ve got the initiative here. We have the numbers, but they’ve got the Levels and the initiative, with our people too spread out across the city as we attempt to save everybody. They’re hitting our people piecemeal, taking out teams while we scramble.

“We’re losing,” I say after a glance at the map. “That’s it. Everyone, this is John Lee. Pull back on Sam. Grab whatever civilians you can, but everyone pulls back. Sam, coordinate them to fall back on you.” A part of me hopes I’m using the terms right, that everyone understands what I mean. It’s what I know from reading a few books and seeing a lot of movies, terminology that probably means what I think it does. “Ali…?”

“Head down this street and take a left. There’s a group of hunters pinned down with civilians about four blocks down,” Ali says.

Better to rely on my Spirit now; Sam’s got his hands full.

I curse inwardly, knowing we’re abandoning people, leaving them to be taken or possibly killed. A part of me figures that the Sect won’t actually go after the civilians, not when it’s clear we won’t be coming for them anymore. But another part of me wrenches at the thought of abandoning them, of leaving them to the mercies of the Sect. Still, I have an obligation to the fighters, the warriors, to my men. Sending them out to die is one thing, but doing so for a meaningless gesture? That’s the greatest betrayal I can think of.

We pull out what feels like hours later, the surviving combat Classers and the civilians we managed to gather in an assorted train of transportation vehicles. We have everything from gravity sleds to a 1940s Ford in the retreating convoy, bloody and shell-shocked civilians in all of them. No open wounds—or not many anyway, since the System is busy healing everyone. No more chance these days of someone dying from lingering injuries. Cold comfort, that thought.

But the Sect is letting us pull back. The fighting since I called for our retreat was brutal, the last fight a brief clash with the Blood Warrior’s main body right next to Sam’s truck. Dancing with him, containing his attacks while his friends fired at our grouped civilians, was stressful. The Blood Warrior pulled back fast once Mikito arrived, leaving the field of battle to us. Even the ranged attackers ran away after they realized they were steadily losing people to an unseen attacker. We managed to kill nearly two-thirds of their combatants in all the fighting. We bloodied them enough to force them back, but it’s a Pyrrhic victory at best.

“They still holding?” I say to Ali, even though I can see the information on the map as clearly as he can.

“Yes,” Ali says, fingers dancing. “I don’t think they’ll be dropping more people, but we should keep moving.”

“Sam?” I say, speaking to the Technomancer in the center of the convoy. “Can you talk to whoever is in front to speed up?”

“On it,” Sam says. “We need some hunters out ahead though. The civilians aren’t willing to walk into a monster attack.”

“I’ll send Roland and Shadow,” Lana chimes in from beside me, cradling a beam rifle. “Mikito…?”

“I’ll ask around and find some hunters,” Mikito says, something in her voice that I’m unable to read.

I frown slightly, turning to stare at where Mikito stands on the bed of a truck, but I can’t read anything behind her mecha’s armor.

“Thank you,” I mutter, wondering if this is it. Hoping it is.

I don’t have the numbers, not yet, but I know we lost quite a few of the hunter groups. We lost—badly, this time—and a part of me rebels at the idea. At the loss of life for no damn reason, of the pain and suffering. I find myself gritting my teeth, staring at Vernon while the column draws away from me.

I want to get back in, to make them hurt. But if I do that and they attack the column, I’d just be compounding one mistake with another. Better to stay here. And anyway, Ingrid’s doing her thing, hunting the stragglers, making them hurt inside that city. No. As much as I want to fight, right now, right here is my place.

But I swear, I’ll make them hurt.

Chapter 12

A day later, we’re gathered at the city center’s central office lounge. We being the entire team, excluding Ingrid, and my “council,” including Mel as a representative of the combat Classers. We’re scattered in a rough circle on whatever random chairs and other surfaces we can find. A part of me notes we need a real meeting room at some point, but right now, I want to be near the City Core.

“We lost four full teams and another fourteen combatants from those who came from Kamloops. The Vernon fighters lost the most. We barely have eighty of them here, and that’s including the ones who came in the earlier convoys,” Mikito says, pain in her eyes. “I don’t know how many actually died in the city. I wasn’t able to get a real count.”

“Definitely the same for the civilians. No losses from the earlier groups of course,” Benjamin says, shaking his head. “We’ve got over a thousand new people, some of them still shell-shocked. I doubt many of them will be of use to us in the next few weeks, though anyone who has survived thus far…”

“Are survivors,” Mel says, grunting. “They’ll get over it.”

I grimace but nod, understanding the harsh truth in that statement.

When I look at Torg, he answers the next question easily. “We have enough food for them. Food is tighter, but we’ve shifted a few of the farms to producing consumables and those should help the overall situation. Our stores are more than sufficient for now.”

“For now,” I say, repeating the qualified statement. I almost ask how long “for now” means, but I figure if it was a major issue, he’d bring it up. Better to let the experts do what they do best without me jogging their elbow.

“Space isn’t an issue. There are still a significant number of abandoned buildings, even System-registered ones,” Ben says softly. “I’ve been upgrading them as I can, but at least they’re warm with running water.”

Again, I’m struck by the absurdity of me leading anyone. I don’t know, don’t understand any of this. Even the downloaded knowledge from the System doesn’t cover the fact that I just don’t have the experience or temperament to do this. As leading a bunch of hunters to their death showed.

“ATTACKERS HAVE BEEN DETECTED AT THE PERIPHERY OF THE SENSING ZONES. SHOULD WE DEPLOY DRONES FOR ADDITIONAL COVERAGE?” Kim says, flashing the notification in front of me and everyone else.

“Yes,” I say.

“No,” Mel says at the same time then glares at me. He draws a breath before explaining himself to me. “A drone will likely be picked up by them, letting our enemies know the limits of your sensor net.”

I nod slightly while Mel queries Kim for further information. I take a more direct route, pulling up the map and scanning the information. Two groups—four and six people respectively. That’s literally all the information there is, the biosensor network not particularly good at providing anything else. Well, outside of the fact that they’re on foot.

“We’ll deal with this,” Mel says, standing. I frown at him. “My people need the experience gained from fighting them.”

“But—” I protest.

“Lana is lending her pets to us, so we’ll have enough muscle power. And we’ve got trained groups who are stealthier than you and yours,” Mel says, cutting me off. “We have plans for this. Let us do our job.”

I grimace but nod and let him leave. I hate that he’s right and I hate that his people, the combat Classers, are going to do the fighting while I’m seated here, safe and useless. My glowering form keeps the silence until Mel leaves, at which point Ali clears his throat.

“Well, then. I got some good news,” Ali says, waving.

A list of information pops up: details of weapons, armor, and assorted magical and technological accessories.

“What’s this?” Benjamin asks, frowning.

“Loot,” Ali says, grinning and goes on to explain where he kept disappearing to throughout the fight. “I grabbed whatever bodies I could while we were in Vernon, dumping them into storage and John’s Altered Space. Gear’s decent and definitely an improvement for the city.”

We fall silent for a time, scanning through the list. I randomly stop at various pieces of equipment, assessing the information.

Kmino One-Size-Fits-All-Humanoid Battle Armor (Tier IV)

The Kmino Battle Armor provides a Galactic Council approved, Tier IV defense on all covered regions. Note that the Kmino Battle Armor is sized to fit all standard humanoid forms and will restructure (within Galactic Council approved limits) to fit with a high degree of comfort, suitable for even the most rigorous combat conditions.

Durability: 83/125

Inlin Solarburst Beam Rifle v4.8

The Inlin Solarburst is the classic, proven primary rifle for two hundred seventeen governmental armed forces—and one hundred eighty-three rebels.

Base Damage: 48

Mana Battery Charge: 25/25

Ground Elemental Clay

Most commonly used by professional demolition experts and the military, Ground Elemental Clay has been stabilized through an arcane process, ensuring the mixture is non-volatile and stable in most conditions.

Base Damage: 200

I grab the clay, because extra explosives are always nice. Anyway, I’ve got a skill—sort of—for explosives.

Proxima Earrings of Regeneration

The Proxima brand of luxury jewelry provides the best designs and the highest regeneration. Show your faith to the one you love, buy Proxima.

Health Regeneration: +15

Mana Regeneration: +3

“Anything else like this?” I send to Ali, admiring the earrings.

“Sort of. There’s also a penis ring, but considering the Worick we got it from was about as wide as your arm, I don’t think you’d want it. The other more traditional stuff is in the low single digits, other than a ring I set aside for you,” Ali says. “That means no stealing this for yourself.”

“Lana then?” I say, glancing at the earrings. I haven’t actually bought the young lady anything… I consider matters and decide that perhaps I should avoid giving my sort-of girlfriend dead body loot as my first official gift. “Remind me to go shopping.”

“Got it, boy-o. I’ll let Mikito know we got this if you don’t mind,” Ali says, and I send my mental agreement before going back to reviewing the list.

Q’mmn Never-ending Flask of Inebretiation

Blessed by Clerics of the God Q’mmn, the never-ending flask provides extremely high proof alcohol. This flask generates Ilmunax, a traditional distilled alcohol drink derived from the crushed bodies of Yuma worms.

“Is it really never-ending?” I ask Ali.

“Not really. The blessing runs out of after a decade or so, but it’s good enough for most people.”

“Huh.” I waggle my fingers, removing that particular item from the list.

In the end, I give up scanning the list in its entirety after extracting a promise from Ali that we’ve already kept all the really good stuff. A bit selfish on my part, but my team is still our best defense and anything that increases our survivability is good for the town. Or you know, that’s one way of justifying it. Really, I’m honest enough with myself to know I just don’t want to share.

“Share the rest among the combat Classers and anyone who came through Vernon first, then allocate as appropriate,” I say finally, giving orders to the group. After a second, I send a note to Kim to keep track of who gets what, a niggling concern about corruption in the back of my mind. After all, I really don’t know these people well.

I get more than a few surprised looks, even though Ali had purposely brought all this information out in the council meeting because we were going to share it. I ignore them, instead delving into the next issue that has arisen from dragging so many refugees to town. There’re a lot of problems, and housing and food are just the start of them. Even if I’m not the best person to make the decisions, someone still has to rubber stamp what comes through.

Hours later, I’m lying on the floor in the Core’s room, feet propped up on a chair, and staring at my character sheet. Now that we’re out of trouble, I figure it’s time for me to catch up on the notifications that have been awaiting my perusal. Most of them are experience notifications, the vast majority of which I’ve learned to ignore because as Ali once pointed out, knowing doesn’t change the reality. I either have the experience or I don’t. Better to view the actual character screen and the new Levels.

Status Screen

Name

John Lee

Class

Erethran Honor Guard

Race

Human (Male)

Level

39

Titles

Monster’s Bane, Redeemer of the Dead

Health

1780

Stamina

1780

Mana

1370

Mana Regeneration

98 / minute

Attributes

Strength

98

Agility

169

Constitution

178

Perception

61

Intelligence

137

Willpower

139

Charisma

16

Luck

30

Class Skills

Mana Imbue

2

Blade Strike

2

Thousand Steps

1

Altered Space

2

Two are One

1

The Body’s Resolve

3

Greater Detection

1

A Thousand blades

1

Soul Shield

2

Blink Step

2

Tech Link*

2

Instantaneous Inventory*

1

Cleave*

2

Frenzy*

1

Elemental Strike*

1 (Ice)

Combat Spells

Improved Minor Healing (II)

Greater Regeneration

Greater Healing

Mana Drip

Improved Mana Dart (IV)

Enhanced Lightning Strike

Fireball

Polar Zone

Freezing Blade

All that death and destruction was useful for something at least. I smile grimly, noticing I’ve edged ever closer to that elusive Level 40. Just a little more and I’ll actually gain access to my Tier III Class Skills. If I’d had those Skills back in Vernon, if I was just a little stronger…

I exhale, pushing aside the anticipation and regret, and remind myself once again that what is, is. Still, I’m human and not a damn monk—the shaven-headed, robe-wearing ones who sit under waterfalls and don’t have superpowers of kung fu—so I distract myself by poking at the equipment Ali saved for me. He’s even been nice enough to label them as mine.

To start with, I pull out the ring he mentioned. It’s a simple circular band of black stone with unknown runes carved onto it. Or it might be a language. In either case, holding the ring up to my eye, I pull up its information.

Kryl Ring of Regeneration

Often used as betrothal bands, Kyrl rings are highly sought after and must be ordered months in advance.

Health Regeneration: +30

Stamina Regeneration: +15

Mana Regeneration: +5

“How come the health regeneration is so much better than the Mana regeneration?” I ask. I ignore the Stamina regeneration, since that’s never been an issue for me. I just don’t have the kind of Skills where it would matter, and my base regeneration is so ridiculously high, it’s never been a concern. Mikito, on the other hand, with her Haste spells and other Class Skills actually has to worry about it.

“Mana regeneration’s always the worst,” Ali says.

“I asked why.”

“Just is,” Ali says, shrugging, obviously unconcerned with the why.

I grumble, hating how the Spirit can be so blasé about the way the System works sometimes. Then again, I never bothered to learn how indoor plumbing worked, so who am I to talk?

I stare at the ring once more, debating how I feel about the fact that this was someone’s wedding ring, before I shrug. Considering it’s so good, it must have belonged to a Sect member, and they were all slavers. Stealing from them was the least I could do.

Having resolved my doubts with what is probably a highly questionable moral equivalence, I slip the ring onto my finger, watching as the ring grows to fit. “Hey, this self-adjusted. Would some of the other stuff have done that?”

“No. Kryl rings are actually expensive. Most of that junk was mass-produced,” Ali says before he flashes up the next notification.

Monolam Temporal Cloak

This Temporal Cloaks splices the user’s timeline, adjusting their physical, emotional, and psychic presence to randomly associated times. This allows the user to evade notice from most sensors and individuals. The Monolam Temporal Cloak has multiple settings for a variety of situations, varying the type and level of dispersal of the signal.

Requirements: 1 Hardpoint, Tier IV Mana Engine

Duration: Varies depending on cloaking level

“English?”

“It makes you invisible by making your actual presence appear either in the past or future. It’s not actual invisibility and it can, on occasion, cause more trouble than it’s worth, but it’s also extremely effective at hiding your presence immediately,” Ali says. “You can set it up so that it sends your presence anywhere from a few minutes to a few years down the road. Of course, the more you interact with the world, the higher the cost on drainage.”

“Huh,” I say, rubbing my chin. This is real weird and scientific. Or maybe it’s magical, considering we’re talking about time travel of sorts. I’m not entirely sure at this point. “This looks like it needs to be connected to Sabre.”

“Got it in one,” Ali says. “Doesn’t make up for the QSM but…”

“But it could be useful. How long a charge do we have?” I say.

“If we keep it to draining only about twenty percent of Sabre’s battery, which I recommend, anything from two seconds to about an hour.”

“Nice. Let’s get Sam to install this when he can.”

I turn next to the notification for a circular brown bracer which also has—if different—runic script on it.

Tier III Bracer of Mana Storage

A custom work by an unknown maker, this bracer acts as a storage battery for personal Mana. A must-have accessory for Mages and other Classes that rely on Mana. Mana storage ratio is 50 to 1.

Mana Capacity: 0/350

“Zero stored?” I blink, staring at the information.

“I drained it of the last amounts it had stored,” Ali says. “Can’t mix Mana types in enchanted equipment like this. You won’t even be able to use it just yet. You’ll need to acclimatize the system to you, which means putting in a little bit of your Mana at a time.”

“Still, that’s pretty decent,” I mutter and strap it on my left arm. I push my Mana toward it, careful to control how much, and immediately understand what Ali means. The bracer rejects my Mana immediately, forcing me to repeat the process slower and with significantly more focus. I expend nearly two-thirds of my current Mana pool before even a single point of Mana is stored in the bracer.

“Don’t worry, it gets better,” Ali says reassuringly. “What you input will disappear in a few hours, so make sure to keep refreshing the storage to assimilate it.”

I grunt in acknowledgement and get to the next notification, curious to see what kind of weapon Ali might have picked up. Interestingly enough, it’s a simple greenish steel dagger with no runes or other mystical markings, with a blackened steel hilt that fits snugly into my hand. It’s incredibly well-balanced, definitely made by someone with actual skill.

Fey-steel Dagger

Fey-steel is not actual steel but an unknown alloy. Normally reserved only for the Sidhe nobility, a small—by Galactic standards—amount of Fey-steel is released for sale each year. Fey-steel takes enchantments extremely well.

Base Damage: 28

Durability: 110/100

Special Abilities: None

“This thing’s sharp,” I mutter, staring at the base damage.

Of course, sharp isn’t the right word—better to say that the System considers it extremely damaging, allowing it to do a higher level of damage—but in either case, it’s nasty. I’m also intrigued by the note that it can take enchantments well, though at this moment, I know no one with that ability.

“It is. All Fey-steel is like that. It’s why they’re so sought-after. The body I pulled it off of was one of the higher Level Classers. Must have been one heck of a story about how they came to own this,” Ali says.

“About that…” I frown, tapping the dagger. “How rare is this?”

“How rare were those Teslas?”

I nod, somewhat gratified. Rare but not entirely uncommon. Still, it’s not something I need to be showing off, so I dump it into storage. “No guns?”

“Nothing too much of an upgrade.” Ali shrugs. “You don’t really use rifles much, and while the weapons they had were improvements, it was mostly marginal. Better to stick with what you know than to chase a minor bump in stats.”

I have to agree with Ali on that. Changing up equipment might be fun in a game, but it always takes a little while to get used to new equipment. If the other weaponry isn’t much better than what I have already, what’s the point?

Next up are a series of mines and explosives, some omni-directional, some directed. I pull out a few, just for fun.

Shim Lun Razor Tripwire Mine

Rather than triggering a specific attack, this mine sends its razor-sharp tripwires across its targeted region, laying a trap for unsuspecting targets within its attack zone. Best paired with Shim Lun’s Skin Contact Poison Mine Canisters.

Damage: 15 per tripwire

Ollie’s High-Explosive Slime Mixture

Don’t let its name fool you, this is a high-explosive mine. Made from an unstable chemical mixture and a slime core, Ollie’s High-Explosive Slime Mixture is infamous across the Galactic System and banned in six Galactic regions for unusual cruelty to animals.

Damage: 125 Explosive Damage

Ares Burrowing Droid Pressure Mine

The Burrowing Droid Mine releases a series of droids that impact and attempt to burrow into target bodies. Once they are embedded in target bodies, the droids attempt to reach its target’s vital organs by burrowing toward the body. Please note that the Burrowing Droid may not work against certain non-standard, non-humanoid races.

Damage: 15 HP per second

“Ali, how much money do I have right now anyway?” I say. I know I got more from the fight, though I hadn’t bothered to do the math.

A quick look shows I’ve got just over thirty-eight thousand Credits—a pitiful amount considering how many I killed. Unlike the equipment Ali looted off dead bodies all around town when we passed by, Credits are only collected when I actually kill the individual in question myself. I personally think that’s a bit of a cheat, but then again, it’s better than the equipment stored in the System storage, which all disappears.

Fun and interesting as looking at the aftermath of the fight is, it’s nothing more than a distraction from the bitter truth that we lost that battle. I might have gained something personally, but we’d lost the battle. Even now, the Sect is probing our defenses, sending groups into the surroundings, seeing if they can sneak people close enough to take pot-shots at our shields.

For now, we’re in a stalemate with the Sect, but it can’t, won’t, last. Grimacing, I wave, pulling up a new book. Rather than an esoteric tome about the System, this one’s more pertinent to our current problems as it details one of the many, many conflicts the Erethran Empire has been involved in and their tactics. I’m hoping that somewhere in this book is knowledge that can help us. I’ve got hundreds of points in Wisdom and Intelligence; I must be able to think of something new. Even if those points don’t exactly work that way, I can still hope.

“John?” Ingrid calls softly early the next morning.

I dismiss the book and clamber to my feet, walking out of the Core’s room to greet the Assassin. “You made it back.”

“About an hour ago. I wanted to eat and change first,” Ingrid says. “Managed to take out another high Level Basic while I was in the city, but they started clamping down on security after that. Mostly, I just watched them.”

“Fair enough,” I say, knowing that Ingrid did the best she could have. Frankly, she did better than anyone else could, so I have no complaints.

“They’re hunkering down now. I don’t think they intend to leave. Probably use Vernon as a staging ground to attack here,” Ingrid says. “Any humans left aren’t being allowed to leave for their ‘protection.’”

“Why don’t they just make them Serfs?” I say, frowning.

“Galactic Law. As much as you might call them slavers, the Galactic Council doesn’t legally allow slavery. Serfdom—and the entry to Serfdom—is actually very structured. Outside of being legally convicted for breaking laws, you have to voluntarily agree to enter a Serf contract,” Ali says. “Of course, the number of loopholes involved in ‘convincing’ people to enter Serfdom is wide and varied, but they can’t just throw your entire people into Serfdom.”

“They added another ten or so combat Classers to the city after you left, but that was it. Didn’t look like they intended to add any more, but…” Ingrid shrugs, leaving unsaid the fact that she did less than a day’s worth of scouting. “One of the new classers was a hunter of some sort. It nearly caught me twice. Weirdest thing ever—six feet, purple-and-pink-furred lizard thing. I don’t think I’d be able to sneak back in any time soon.”

“They’re called Badas,” Ali supplies. “Sentient umm… well, sentient.”

I stare at Ali, curious as to what could make even Ali pause but discarding the thought. I’m sure there’s a story there, but for now, time to focus on Ingrid and our problems. I raise my hand, pulling out a map of the surrounding settlements. British Columbia has a ton of small towns, but outside of Kamloops, Vernon, and Kelowna, most barely have any population.

“Don’t think they’re going to do any major staging out of Merritt,” I mutter, tapping the town icon to the south of Kamloops. “So it’s probably a temporary base there.” At the hmmm from Ingrid, I clarify for her, “They’re attacking us from that direction. Probing with a few groups. So far we’ve counted about five different groups. All low Level though.”

“Okay. You want me to kill them tomorrow?” Ingrid asks, straight to the point.

“No. Mel’s got the teams doing that, using the Sect as training. Not sure they’re getting a lot of Experience, but…” I shrug.

Mel’s given me an overview of his plans, intending to let the groups come in and probe our defenses and even letting them succeed at times, saying it’s better to hide the full range of our abilities than to win every fight. I’m not entirely convinced, but his logic is sound, so I’m letting him run with it. As it stands, his results so far have been decent—no losses on our side and one death on the Sect’s. Unfortunately, unless we’re able to achieve a fatality, any injuries are easily healed. It’s probably why wars are so vicious in the wider System galaxy. If you don’t put them down, they just keep coming.

“Okay then. When you figure out what you want me to do, let me know,” Ingrid says, waving. “I’m going to get some rest.”

“Of course,” I say to Ingrid, waving goodbye. “Thank you again.”

I don’t get an answer as the woman strides off, leaving me alone again. After a moment, I look upward and stare at Ali.

“Been thinking about that Mana flow. We use it to power the settlement shield and the sentry towers, correct?” I say to the floating Spirit.

“Yes. Though it’s mostly from the background flow,” Ali says.

“Can we use the built-up reserves in a more active way? Maybe boosting the sentry towers and shields occasionally?” I say.

“Not the traditional way of using Mana overflows…” Ali says.

“And non-traditionally?” I say with a frown.

“Spells. Generally a settlement-wide enchantment of some form,” Ali explains.

“IT IS POSSIBLE. UPGRADES WILL BE REQUIRED FOR BOTH THE SENTRY TOWERS AND SHIELD GENERATOR, AS WELL AS THE PURCHASE OF A SETTLEMENT MANA STORAGE BATTERY.”

“Where is the Mana stored now?” I ask with a frown. After all, I can see the Mana numbers right in the settlement information.

“MANA ACCESSIBLE BY THE SETTLEMENT IS KEPT IN CIRCULATION THROUGH THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE TOWN.”

“What kind of rituals or enchantments are we looking at?” I ask Ali next.

“Anything you want. I’ve seen weather control rituals, life enhancement, fertility, crafting rituals. You name it, you can get it. Including defensive ones,” Ali states.

“So defensive rituals,” I say, nodding. “Think this is a conversation I’ll need to have with Mel.”

“And funds to build it up,” Ali points out. “Enchantments—combat enchantments in particular—are expensive.”

I groan. Of course they are. Anything good is always expensive. Though I absently make a note to ask Aiden about this. I know he’s got some experience with enchantments in Whitehorse. Perhaps we could con him into helping out here. Humming to myself, I start composing the message.

Tracking down Lana the next day isn’t hard. Even if I didn’t have access to the full surveillance apparatus of the city, the buxom redhead is both noticeable and well-known. She’s also a bleeding heart, which is why I’m not surprised to find her with the refugees in a makeshift office, making suggestions and offering advice to the crowd that has gathered. Luckily, there’s no shortage of jobs to be had, so it’s a matter of assignment more than anything else.

I wave to Lana, catching her attention before stepping back and waiting until she’s done. I spend the time watching the refugees, curious to see how they’re doing. They’re a mixed lot, though the group here leans toward the shell-shocked and somewhat disheveled. It’s interesting how even when your clothing and self is perfectly clean, you can look utterly wasted. There’s a truth in there somewhere, one that I’m too tired to consider.

“John?” Lana says, drawing my attention back to her.

“Oh hey.” I lean in to give her a quick kiss. She returns it before raising an eyebrow, querying my presence. “I wanted to give you this.”

I hand her my purchase, the small velvet box dwarfed in my hand. Lana takes the box, lips pursed in thought as she pops it open to see the simple silver and gold chain, each link inscribed with runes. Her lips part slightly as she stares at the necklace and the information that displays.

Proxima Necklace of Regeneration

The Proxima brand of luxury jewelry provides award-winning designs and the highest regeneration in its class. Show your faith to the one you love, buy Proxima.

Health Regeneration: +20

Mana Regeneration: +5

“This…”

“Here, let me,” I say, taking the necklace and walking around to her back. Lana lifts her long, wavy red hair, letting me clasp the necklace. For a moment, my fingers fumble slightly as I stare at the graceful expanse of white skin. “Done.”

Rather than answer me verbally, Lana turns around and leans forward, planting her lips on mine as she wraps her arms around my neck. After a time, she breaks the kiss. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” I say awkwardly.

“What brought this on?”

“Ummm… nothing. Just thought I should,” I answer, deciding against mentioning my initial inspiration.

“Mmhmmm…” Lana says before she smiles one of those radiant smiles. “Thank you again. You know, Richard would be taking you out for a talk if he saw you give me this.” There’s a brief flicker of sadness, one that she forcibly pushes away.

I nod slightly, understanding her pain. I miss that idiot too.

“Was this it?” Lana says. “Not that I don’t value your presence…”

“Yes,” I say, rubbing my nose and taking my dismissal graciously. “If you didn’t have anything for me, I was thinking about checking out the farms, then talking to Mel and his people.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Lana says, waving me off to do my rounds. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I smile, hearing the unspoken promise in those words, my stride having a slight bounce to it that wasn’t there before. The gift for her was well worth the Credits, even if it did drain my funds.

“Can we help you?”

Polite or not, the question is obviously meant to dissuade me from wandering into the small strip mall. With its internal walls taken down and a short wall obstructing the parking lot, the strip mall no longer looks as inviting as its original architect envisioned. Which is the point, I’m sure. There are even a pair of guards standing outside the main entrance, mostly looking bored.

“Just wanted to check out how things are going,” I say, peering past the woman who stopped me.

The stout raven-haired woman steps sideways, hands on her hips as she blocks my view. Over her head, her Status says she’s KC Markowitz, a Level 21 Gunsmith. Absently, I wonder how she ended up with just initials for her name. I’ve never seen that before.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what they told you, but this area isn’t open to the public,” the Gunsmith says, glaring at the pair of guards with displeasure.

“My name’s John Lee.” I flash her a grin. When she doesn’t get it, I add, “The guy who kicked out the Sect? Your boss’s boss?”

“Oh…” KC gasps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“It’s fine, KC,” I say, waving toward the building. “Ben’s reports mentioned that he set up a gun factory and I was curious.”

Having started at the use of her name, KC draws a breath before nodding. “If you’d like, I can show you around?”

“That’d be great.” Part of my visit here is curiosity. Part of it is a desire to get more bullets for Sabre, though I’m not entirely sure these guys are up to the task. Which is the point of coming and finding out for myself, obviously.

“Well, we’ve got the workshop—umm, factory—set up in three parts right now. Outside here”—KC gestures to the group of plastic tables covered by cheap pavilions probably looted from the closest big box store, where a few craftsmen move about—“we work with the high explosives and other, ummm… volatile materials.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I frown, walking over. On closer inspection, I realize that the tables are cordoned off from each other with portable shield generators.

“Well, better than constantly fixing the walls inside,” KC says with a shrug. “We all carry multiple healing potions, and we never keep more volatiles out here than we can stand from an explosion. Those of us working with the volatiles have also either invested in our Constitution or have a Class Skill to reduce ummm… self-created mistakes.”

“Ah…” I pause at the nearest table to watch while half-listening to KCs explanations.

The individual is working on what looks like tiny missiles—mortar shells, perhaps—alternately pulling various parts apart, screwing parts together, putting the two-thirds complete item upright, and gently filling one of the four vials in the shell with a purple liquid. Once that’s done, he switches to filling another vial, this time with a red liquid. He continues doing so, adding different liquids to each vial, before sealing the vials with a glass stopper and screwing the entire assembly together. After that, he holds his hand over it, focusing while the product glows.

“He’s using a Skill to complete assembly. It’s called ummm… Assembly,” KC says. “If Sherman gets simple-to-assemble parts, he just screws and mostly finishes them then uses his Skill. The Skill finishes everything for him, making it a complete product. Like that.” She gestures, and I nod.

The glow around the shell is gone. In its place is a single smooth item, rather than the screwed-together contraption that he had before. What he does next surprises me.

Hands glowing again, Sherman waves his hand up and down the table, his movements centered around the mortar. He does that for twenty seconds, the area where his hand moves slowly growing brighter and brighter. Then suddenly, with a slight rumble of displaced air, another ten mortar shells cover the table.

“Wha…?”

“Mass Production,” KC says, shrugging. “All of us have it. If we don’t get it as part of our Skill tree, we buy it from the Shop. It can only be activated within five seconds after you’ve completed your most recent work, but it lets the System generate even more copies. There are a few variations, including a channeled version like what Sherman has and a single-use Skill like mine.”

“Wow…” I say, blinking. That’s amazing. Then again, it’s taken Sherman about five minutes to produce eleven shells. And as I watch, Sherman slowly puts together the other piece, his movements slow and careful.

“Check out his Mana level, boy-o. He’s nearly out. So each cast takes about ten minutes to finish eleven.” Ali grunts. “Not horrible for a Basic Class, but not great.”

And of course that explains why hand-crafted projectile weaponry is so expensive. Each of his shells does high-explosive, flaming damage over a range of ten feet on impact, but only a base damage of 53. Not great. If he was making bullets, I could see why it would cost multiple Credits to buy even a single bullet. Still, it’s better than the single-digit damage levels of non-System generated weaponry.

“So outside, we have the volatiles,” KC says, continuing her initial conversation and leading me into the open doorway. “Inside, we’ve got the basic, solid-shot projectiles. Everything from basic armor-piercing weaponry to just bullets like I make. Then there’s the warehouse section, where our runners put the finished product and we take inventory.”

I nod, listening to KC as she guides me around, showing me the place. It doesn’t take long, even with introductions to those who look interested.

When we finally get to the warehouse and KC finishes her spiel, I turn to her and hold out a single projectile. From the looks of it, KC’s probably my best bet. “Are you able to make this?”

“Ummm…” KC frowns, staring at the projectile as she turns it around in her hand.

It looks a bit similar to our own bullets, physics—basic physics, at least—not changing much. She pulls a small pair of plyers from her tool belt and pulls apart the backend with a twist, brows furrowed. After a minute of silence as she continues to tap and play with the projectile in silence, I clear my throat.

“Oh, right. Sorry. No,” KC says, shaking her head. “I don’t have the blueprints for it. I’d need to get that first or research it. It doesn’t look hard…” KC taps one edge before casually tossing a part onto the concrete floor. It explodes with a small puff of smoke, shattering the concrete and making me jump slightly. No one else even flinches. “Nice reagent… I think… yes…”

I cough, bringing her attention back to me.

“No. Can’t do it. Don’t have the materials. I could cobble something together with what we have in a few weeks once I’ve researched it, but it wouldn’t be as good. This is very nice work.”

I sigh, nodding. For all the advantages of owning a settlement, getting free bullets doesn't seem to be one of them. Not yet at least.

“Can I keep this?” KC says, holding up the pieces of the projectile.

“Sure,” I say, shaking my head.

KC grins, walking away while muttering to herself as she stares at the projectile, abruptly leaving me alone in a warehouse filled with ammunition.

“Well done, boy-o. A real charmer you are.”

I grunt, shaking my head, and walk out. Best get to my next project.

I knock on the door of the apartment building gently—mostly because I spotted the pair of high-explosive mines hidden in the wall. Between that, the surveillance cameras, a shield enchantment, and probably a few more toys I haven’t seen, this building is probably the most well-defended in the city. Which isn’t surprising, considering who lives here right now.

​“Redeemer,” the Hakarta greets me, his face solemn. I notice he’s standing almost at attention. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem,” I say, frowning. “Why would you think there’s one?”

“I did not. Are you here to speak with the lieutenant then?” the Hakarta says.

“Well, I…” I consider my answer and finally nod. It’s obvious the private I’m speaking to would prefer I speak with his boss. “Yes. Please.”

“Very well. I shall lead you to him,” the private says, letting me in before closing the door and resetting their security precautions. After that, he leads me upstairs a couple of floors and to a corner apartment, where he knocks on the door before gesturing for me to stand to the side. “Wait here please. I shall inform the lieutenant.”

Once the lieutenant is informed, it takes only a minute to get the formalities out of the way, leaving me with him in the comfortable living room filled with a beige L-designed couch and lounging chairs. I absently note that all the family photos are gone, stacked in a corner, while the Hakarta reside here for now.

“How are you doing, lieutenant?” I say.

“We are well. There are no complaints, sir,” Lieutenant Nerigil says. “Major Ruka briefed us on what to expect beforehand. And your… commander is competent and willing to listen to suggestions.”

“Good. Very good,” I say, nodding. “I understand he’s got you guys on guard duty mostly?”

“Yes. Our contract only extends to the direct defense of the town. While it could be argued to include the hunting of your harassers, it was decided that our strength was better used in town, providing guard services and occasional training companions,” the lieutenant answers stiffly. “If that is acceptable, Redeemer.”

“Oh, I’m not here to meddle,” I say, waving away his words. “I’m actually just checking in on you guys. Making sure none of my people have started fights because you… well…”

“We look like your orcs.”

I cough, nodding slightly with embarrassment.

“It is understandable. My people’s major occupation does place us in an antagonistic position with most settled races. We have fought against, and fought for, most races. It is no surprise that the Mana Leakage you experienced cast us as a warlike race,” Lieutenant Nerigil says.

“Ah… I’m glad you understand,” I say, smiling. The lieutenant nods and I get up before shaking his hand in farewell. “Well, I won’t bother you on your day off anymore. I just wanted to make sure you guys are doing well.”

“Our comfort is well within the parameters of the contract,” the lieutenant confirms and sees me out.

It’s only when I’m out of the building that I realize he never did say if his people had gotten into any fights over our impression of them as orcs. I turn around to knock again, a bit annoyed at being blown off like that.

“Leave it, boy-o. If he didn’t want to say, that’s his problem. You did your part.”

“But...” I feel guilty. For what? The entire human race? For racist or idiotic assholes? Maybe it’s the Canadian in me that feels the need to apologize.

“Leave it. You’ve got your own battles to fight.”

I sigh, giving up. Ali’s right. I’ve got a lot more work to do, more people to check up on, more training to conduct. More Levels to gain. A few hurt feelings and broken noses, if there are any, is something I can leave for others.

Chapter 13

It’s been eight days since we returned from Vernon. The refugees have settled down, mostly, with many taking part in the development of our city. It helps that there’s enough vacant real estate that rent is still incredibly cheap. Even if large swaths of space are owned by me directly, there just aren’t enough people to actually populate most of the locations. The small increase in population barely makes a dent.

Eight days and the Sect has not stopped launching probing attacks. Current consensus is that they don’t have the manpower to actually take Kamloops—at least not without losing more people than they’d be willing to risk. Between the Hakarta, my team, and the combat Classers from Kamloops and Vernon, we’ve got a sizeable force in an entrenched position. While we don’t have the resources to upgrade the town as much as I’d like, our defenses do give us a bit of an edge, especially since Benjamin is working on the approaches. Some of the things that mind of his has come up with are nasty. And innovative. Still, letting the Sect past our shield is the last thing I want to do.

Mel has been keeping our combat teams sweeping out to the south of the Thompson River to harry our attackers, the group playing hide-and-seek in the lands around. Between Class Skills, technology, and forested areas, the hunting groups are just as likely to stumble across an opponent by chance as find them with Skill. It does mean that we have the north of the river to continue to run hunting and Leveling though, which is nice. It allows some groups to Level in more controlled environments while others gain experience in real combat. Like everyone else, I’ve been sneaking out to Level too, making use of my greater Constitution to squeeze in grinding sessions late at night and in the early morning. Unfortunately, stuck as I am at Level 39, the monsters available are a drop in the bucket.

My musings, mostly procrastination as I go through the morning mail from Kim / the Settlement is interrupted by a call.

“John.”

“Mel. What’s wrong?”

“We need you at the gates. There’s… something weird. We’ve got the shield up just in case, but you’ll want to see this.”

“On my way,” I say, dismissing the notification and heading out.

It takes me only a few minutes to arrive on Sabre and I find myself joining Mel and Mikito and another teenager at the edge of the settlement shield, staring through the shimmering force field at the blood-covered sole survivor of a group. As I walk up, the exhausted brunette outside the shield looks up, eyes locking with mine even as she cradles her stomach.

“You’re here,” she says with relief.

“I am…” I glance at Mikito and Mel. “Why aren’t we letting her in?”

“She’s got a weird Status effect,” Mikito replies.

I actually look at her and her status, noting the woman’s injured condition and another that I’ve not seen before. Blood Vector.

Carla Flowers (Level 28 Wisp of Flame)

HP: 44/490

MP: 210/210

Conditions: Injured, Blood Vector

“Class Skill. She’s infected. If we let her in, she’ll explode and spread the disease to everyone else. As it is, she’s dying,” Ali explains. Even as he speaks, I see her health drop a little.

“He let me go,” Carla Flowers says softly. “After he killed all of my team. My friends. He took his time, pinned me to the ground while he cut them apart, again and again. Said that he wanted you to know who is killing us.”

“Who?” I say.

“Utrashi Wyt,” the survivor answers, her voice coming out softer, weaker. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll kill him.”

I grit my teeth, rage flaring. I walk forward, stopped only by the shield, as I meet her eyes filled with pain, despair, and rage. Her hazel eyes are filled with the knowledge that she’s dead already and won’t be able to enact her own vengeance.

“I promise. I’ll cut his head off.”

When she hears my promise, Carla smiles slightly. She raises her hand, calling forth her Mana, and fire comes, so hot and so fast that she probably doesn’t feel it. Much. Mikito lurches forwards for a second and then stops, held back by the shield and good sense. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the stranger standing next to Mikito step backward, face pale before turning away and refusing to watch. Mel’s lips tighten but he doesn’t look away. Neither do I.

I watch her burn until there’s nothing left of her or her equipment. We watch in silence, my stomach churning with the acidic knowledge that I can do nothing but witness her death.

Only when it’s done do I speak. “What happened?”

“The Blood Warrior—Utrashi—was hiding in the group they attacked. Just waiting for them,” Mel says, shaking his head. “My fault. I should have expected something like that. We’ve been seeding the beasts and Mikito among the hunter groups. Should have realized they might have done the same.”

I turn to Mel, my eyes glowing with anger. His fault. Her death, their deaths, was his fault. I open my mouth and Mikito steps between us, the tiny Japanese woman craning her neck upward to meet my eyes. The teenager shifts slightly too, his hand falling to the katana at his side. I glance at Mikito automatically and she stares at me, daring me to speak.

“Not your fault,” I grate out, not needing Mikito’s reminder. I’m angry, but I understand we make mistakes. For that matter, any of our groups without Mikito in it probably would have died too. Even one with the pets. “Mikito, we should let Lana know. Her pets…”

“Already done. We’ll group her pets up more, keep them in tighter groups,” Mikito says, understanding my hesitation. Neither of us wants Lana to lose another pet. For all her strength now, she’s still somewhat emotionally fragile from losing her brother.

“Who’s the kid?” I tilt my head sideways.

Mikito looks uncomfortable for a second before her face turns placid again. “This is Lee-kun. I’m training him as an Aonisaibushi.”

Lee turns to me, bowing slightly, and I have to keep my face from twitching. It’s weird to see a blond-haired, blue-eyed teenage male bowing while wearing a katana.

“Aoni…” I give up. Mikito said it so fast and fluently, I had no chance of repeating it after her. “That was your Class before, no?”

“Yes.” Mikito nods.

“You can give it?”

Mikito glances at Ali, who sighs, looking at me.

“Not exactly. With certain prestige Classes, you can train others in it. Not all Classes, and not all people, but if you managed to achieve a rank higher than the one you’d like to train, it’s possible,” Ali explains. “It’s still no guarantee the kid will be able to get it, but it makes it possible.”

“I can only take three apprentices at a time,” Mikito says, waving at the kid.

I nod, noting that his Class hasn’t changed from Artist yet, which I assume means he’s still learning under her. Still, knowing Mikito’s Class, I can see how upgrading someone could be useful.

“Drawbacks?” I say. There has to be some.

“Experience. He doesn’t lose his old Class. This one just replaces it eventually and he restarts at Level 1. However, his experience requirements to go up to Level 2 are the same as his previous level,” Ali explains.

I can see how that’d suck, but with his Level only at nine, the kid isn’t likely to be hurt much by this.

“Thanks,” I mutter to Mikito for her explanations. Then I turn to Mel, who was patiently listening. “All right, tell me what you plan to do about this.”

Later that evening, Lana finds me lying down in the old office leading into the core room, staring at the ceiling. Ali’s disappeared, driven off by my silence and grumpiness. I never bothered to replace the furniture in here, so lying down is my best option. It’s not even dirty—the building modifications keep the floors and ceiling so clean you could eat off them.

“Missed you at dinner,” Lana says, taking a seat across from my prone form, sweeping aside a discarded chocolate wrapping paper. The timer before it gets absorbed runs out a few seconds later and the wrapping paper dissolves into nothingness. Such a useful feature, though some people turn it off as they don’t want to inadvertently lose something important.

“Didn’t feel like the company,” I say, continuing to stare at the ceiling.

“Brooding?” Lana says, a half-smile on her face.

“Thinking.” A shred of self-honesty forces me to admit, “Maybe brooding a little. Labashi mentioned we should be on the attack. Throwing them on the defensive, rather than stay on it ourselves. We failed, rather spectacularly, at trying that the last time.”

“We couldn’t just leave the refugees in Vernon,” Lana says pointedly.

“Really?” I say, frowning. “I don’t think that’s right. We could have passed right through the town, hit the Sect in Kelowna like we’d planned, or at least met their planes in the air. But we decided to stop, take the town because it was offered to us, and we fell for their trap. Then we lost people trying to cover the civilians rather than concentrating our forces and hitting them hard. We might have killed that Rock Thrower in Vernon, but we should have finished off that Blood Warrior.”

“You’re saying you’re regretting saving their lives,” Lana says warningly.

“I know. But if we had hit them hard, focused on killing their people rather than playing defense, maybe they’d have gone on the defensive too. If we’d pressed the matter, left the civilians to evacuate themselves and pushed against the Sect’s forces…”

“You don’t think they’d have sent more help?” Lana says.

“I don’t know.” I exhale roughly, shaking my head. “I’m not a general. No tactician. I just wonder if we could have done something else. And now, we’re here. We’re back to playing defense when they were meant to be on defense. It can’t last. The Sect must be sending people over, or consolidating their people, or something.”

“So you want to go attack them again?”

“Yes. But we’ve got to keep the city covered too. The Hakarta aren’t enough, not anymore. Not after the losses we suffered early on. And we can’t afford more,” I say, shaking my head. “That means keeping the team here. They’ve moved enough people up that if we left, they might be able to take the town. Maybe do some real damage…”

“Worried they might destroy the town?” Lana says softly, concern in her voice.

“Yes. They’ve shown they’re willing to kill civilians, and while it might be frowned upon, it’s not entirely taboo. No UN here to stop them. Not that it did much good in our world…”

Lana sighs, squeezing my hand, and I return the squeeze. The losses during the fight weighs on all of us, even if we’ve had experience losing people. Too many empty homes and abandoned buildings on our trip down, too many people we couldn’t help, no matter what we did. For all that the System has changed us, we’re still human.

After a moment, Lana lies down, resting her head on my stomach, and holds out a hand to me. I frown, then pull a chocolate and hand to her. We lie in silence, ruminating on our losses and what we can do. Still, with her silent presence, it doesn’t seem as bad.

Alarms, deep in the night, wake me from dreams I’m thankfully unable to remember. I jerk awake, staring at shrill noise, as Lana does the same. Without asking, Ali’s already displaying a map, showing the attack on the settlement’s Shield.

“Who is in charge?” I say, hands flicking as I pull clothing from my storage and dress.

“Not sure. Mel and Mikito are asleep,” Ali says, frowning. “Ah… Leopold.”

“Who’s he?” I say, glancing at Lana.

She’s already up and dressed fully. She gives me a nod, moving toward the door and leading the way to the attack.

“One of the residents. Has some prior military experience, which is why he was chosen,” Ali says, eyes flicking as he reads his screens. “He’s ordered the hunting parties to converge. Should we countermand the order?”

I grunt, staring at the cluster of dots. Just over sixty Sect members with some assault vehicles are opening fire, hammering the settlement Shield. Not enough to take it down immediately, but if we leave them at it, it’ll go down in four or five minutes. On the other hand, we’ve only got two hunting parties—ten people—out there, and who knows how many other hidden attackers are on the Sect’s side. For that matter, I’m curious how they got in so close without alerting us. Behind the Shield, the guards are gathering, over thirty of them already there and more streaming in.

“Let them close in but don’t engage. They’re dead if they do,” I say, rubbing my chin. “Can the beam weapons help?”

“A little,” Ali says, shrugging. “They’re still liable to be destroyed the moment you open the shields.”

“Damn it,” I growl, running down the streets. We really need to figure out a better option for those guns. “Patch me in to Leopold.” Once Ali gives me the thumbs-up, I say, “This is John Lee. What are your plans?”

“This is Mel. I’ve taken over for Leopold,” Mel says. “Once we get a critical mass behind the shield, we’ll lower it and hit them hard. Everyone has been given specific targets. Our goal is to kill as many as fast as possible.”

Too bad we can’t continuously raise and lower the shield. It’d give our people even more of an advantage. The shift costs a lot of Mana, and if we did that, we’d weaken and eventually destroy the Shield ourselves.

“Are we sure it’s only this group?” I ask.

“Drones are already sweeping the rest of the field, and we’ve got guards on all the other entrances. We’ve got it covered,” Mel says.

“Lana and I are nearly there,” I inform Mel, only half-seeing the shadowed streets we run through. Without a main generator, each building is left alone to generate its own electricity and lighting, which means the streets themselves are intermittently lit by residual lights.

As we turn the corner, the bang, crackle, and hiss of weapon fire and Class Skills can be heard. Our beam weaponry opens up as well, automatically adding their own damage.

“Hold fire,” Mel orders a couple of seconds later.

No surprise that a lot of shots go off even after the command, the order having to be repeated again and again. Mel and a few others growl and curse out the shooters half-heartedly, obviously more concerned about what they can see. As I near, I frown, noting how all the enemy dots have disappeared from my minimap. That doesn’t seem right…

Rather than ask a stupid question, I jump onto the short wall that we use to give our people elevation for the attack. The scorched and broken earth is testament to the damage dished out by the group around me, but rather than bodies, there are but a few broken automated weapon turrets.

“Ali…?” I say, unsure of what is happening.

“A FLUCTUATION IN THE DATA PROVIDED BY THE SYSTEM WAS NOTICED ONCE ATTACKS IMPACTED. IT IS LIKELY THAT A CLASS SKILL WAS USED TO PROVIDE FALSE SENSOR INFORMATION,” Kim flashes to me. “IT IS CONJECTURED THAT THE SAME INDIVIDUAL HID THE SECT’S APPROACH.”

“And the damage to the Shield?” I frowned.

“DELAYED. ON ANALYSIS, ACTUAL DAMAGE WAS DONE A MINUTE BEFORE BUT WAS RELAYED TO OUR SENSORS LATE.”

“You can do that?” I say, blinking. What kind of insane Skill is that?

“YES.”

“This has got to be the work of an Advanced Class. I’ll do some research, see if I can dig up what Class Skills and Classes this might be, but don’t hold your breath. There’re a million options in the System for anything you can think of.”

“Where are they now?” Mel asks, obviously having received the same information. I don’t see them on our sensors, which is disturbing to say the least.

“UNCERTAIN.”

“Pull the hunting groups back,” I order Mel. If those sixty Sect members—which I can’t even be certain of anymore—meet ours, they’d wipe out our hunting groups in no time flat. Better to pull back right now.

“What’s the point of all this?” Lana growls, her hair a frazzled mess.

“They’re attacking our morale,” Mel says, waving at the puzzled people around us.

Most look confused, a few looking enlightened as Kim’s analysis trickles down. More than a few are annoyed, some thrilled as they boast about driving them off.

“Doesn’t look that way,” Lana says, and Mel snorts.

“Not right now. But if I’m not wrong, they’re going to start doing this every night. Maybe more than once a night. It’ll go from annoying to dangerous because we’re going to have to keep people on watch all the time.” Mel sighs. “The Afghanis used to shoot mortar rounds into our camp randomly. You could never really relax.”

“Recommendations?” I ask, looking outward.

“Not much,” Mel says. “We can up our hunting groups, hopefully figure out how many they’re actually sending. If we can counter them on an attack and actually make them bleed, that’d be best. But…”

“They’re likely to be waiting for that,” I say, grimacing.

Mel nods. “We’re also trying to protect a whole city, so our perimeter is too large. Maybe after a few weeks, if there’s a pattern, we can get Ingrid or some of the other teams out. But until then, there’s no guarantee we’d be able to find them.”

“Will they be back tonight?” I ask, and Mel shrugs. “I’m headed back to the Core. Maybe there’s something we can find…” I wave goodbye.

Lana indicates that she’ll stick around a bit, which leaves me walking alone even as Mikito and her apprentice come strolling up.

“Kim, this information distortion, can we do something about it? Get better data?” I ask out loud.

“BASED UPON CURRENT FUNDS, THERE IS ONLY A 34% CHANCE FOR US TO UPGRADE SENSORS TO REMOVE INTEFERENCE.”

“How much would we need to spend to do even that much?”

“ALL OF CURRENT CREDITS AVAILABLE.”

“Bad odds,” I say, shaking my head. “Forget that for now. What else can we do?”

“MANY THINGS. WHAT ARE YOUR OBJECTIVES?”

I growl, annoyed at the pissant AI. Luckily, I’ve got a Spirit who knows how to handle these things.

“Bits-for-brains, we’re dealing with the attacks. What can we do to make it less annoying? Or hurt them when they attack us?”

“CURRENT DAMAGE OUTPUT BY ATTACKERS WILL REMOVE SHIELDING IN FIVE MINUTES, TWENTY-THREE SECONDS OF CONTINOUS ATTACKS. WE HAVE SUFFICIENT CREDITS TO INCREASE RECHARGE RATES OF THE SHIELD TO INCREASE TIME REQUIRED FOR SHIELD FAILURE.

“WE MAY ALSO UPGRADE THE SHIELD TO ALLOW SINGLE DIRECTION FIRE, ALLOWING SENTRY TOWERS TO ATTACK IN RELATIVE SAFETY. ADDITIONAL ATTACK METHODS MAY BE PURCHASED, INCLUDING INDIRECT ARTILLERY FIRE, FROM THE CENTER OF THE CITY. LASTLY, WE MAY PURCHASE A SETTLEMENT ENCHANTMENT TO REFRACT A PORTION OF DAMAGE TO THE SHIELD TO ITS ATTACKERS.”

I frown, tilting my head upward. Even if I can’t see it, I know that the current shield is a dome. Indirect artillery fire would basically make a hole in the dome in the center. Of course, the Sect has shown that they’ve got airplanes, so that might not be the best idea. On the other hand, airplanes are at least easier to spot.

“Sounds interesting,” I say. “Show me.”

Tier IV Defense Shield Regeneration Rate Increase

Increases regeneration rate of settlement shield by drawing a higher level of ambient Mana.

HP Regeneration Rate: 250/minute

Credits: 1.98 Million Credits

Tier IV Defense Shield Upgrade—One-Way Fire

By altering the frequency and direction of the shield, one-way fire out of a settlement shield is viable.

Allows intermittent fire from inside to outside the shield. Must be activated.

Duration of activation: 5 Minutes

Credits: 2.5 Million Credits

Automated Tier IV Artillery

By connecting directly to the sensor network in a settlement, these automated artillery pieces can range up to 50 kilometers away (dependent upon sensor range).

Base Damage: N/A (dependent on ammunition)

Capacity: 5

Fire Rate: 1 per 5 second

Reload time: 30 seconds

Credits: 2 Million Credits

Settlement Shield “Bite Back” Runic Enchantment (Tier V)

Named by original creator Rqweervs Hivemate, the Bite Back Runic Enchantment absorbs damage done to a settlement shield and applies damage directly to its attacker. This Runic Enchantment comes in a wide variety of levels of effectiveness.

Base Damage: 2% of Damage

Requirements: 200 Mana + 20 Mana Upkeep

Credits: 5 Million Credits

I scan through the options, wincing at the cost, and pull up the Settlement information once again in short order. One and three-quarters million Credits. You’d think that anything over a million would be enough, but as I go up in Levels and deal with the town, a million has started to feel like pocket change. Unfortunately, with me wiping out the majority of the Credits earlier and the economy only just beginning to pick up, making millions of additional Credits is impossible. Frankly, it’s amazing that we’ve managed to earn as much as we have. Right now, we’re making roughly forty-five thousand Credits a day as a settlement, which might seem like a lot, but that includes all the rent, sales of Sect-owned goods like farm produce, and taxes we’ve levied.

My hand rises as I get ready to wipe out the options we can’t afford, then I pause. Not because I can’t really activate the purchases till I’m in the Core. Not because we don’t have enough money to make the changes matter. No, because I realize, once again, we’re reacting. Playing to their game.

My hand falls and I stare at the information, stopped in the middle of the street as my mind whirls with possibilities. A glimmer of an idea approaches me, skirting around my perception. Time. Space. Action. Reaction.

Even if I do take the steps I want to, need to, I’ll need to visit Sam and the Shop. But maybe, just maybe, there’s an option.

Chapter 14

There are things you do because you have to. There are things you do because it’s the right thing to do. And then there are things you do because you’re just good at them. However, what you think needs to be done and what others consider to be right are often markedly different. Once again, that thought was reinforced as I told the team about my new plan over our delayed breakfast.

As I sneaked along the ground outside of town, I recalled the arguments, the glares, and the less-than-happy expressions. It was one thing, at least to them, when Ingrid upped and disappeared. She was the Assassin, the scout, the rogue who did all those things. Sending her off from the city, even when we needed her to do some hunting close by, was acceptable. Expected even. She was the free spirit who flitted around. Me? I was supposed to stick around, help settle the refugees, and figure out purchases and defenses and all that crap.

Never mind the fact that I’m really not suited to all that. Or that there are much better people already in place. Even if I feel—I know—my greatest contribution is in the field, most of the others aren’t particularly happy about my choice. As I left, there were even some muttered comments about me regressing.

Truth is, they might be right. That’s the thing about the human mind—we can find justifications for everything and easily rationalize our decisions. In my mind, decisions like what to buy, when to buy, the optimization of our defenses and upgrading buildings and rents… all of that can be handled by others more inclined than I am to do so. Kim can run the math and guide the others on my overall goals. The council can do the actual work, and Lana can watch over them all. Mikito is better at handling and training each of the hunting groups, while Mel seems to have a handle on our day-to-day strategic fighting decisions. As much as I might dislike the older man, he’s doing a decent job so far.

In my mind, there’s nothing I can do that can’t be done by them. But none of them has my Class, my Skills, or Sabre. Of them all, I have the greatest mobility and punching power. Which leads me to traveling across the relatively open ground around the town, leaning on my stealth skills to find the hunting groups. I’ve dumped Sabre into my Altered Space, deciding that going unarmored is a better choice for now. Mobile as it may be, stealthy isn’t something I’d call Sabre in either mode.

Thankfully, the monsters around me stay away. They can sense the Level difference sufficiently to avoid me when they do pick me up, and I make sure to swing around them otherwise. Thus far, in the last few hours, I’ve yet to find signs of our potential attackers.

Which isn’t too surprising. The ground to the south of Kamloops is pretty flat and bare, more plains than forests for around five kilometers before they get hilly and forested again. In the end, my goal isn’t to head into the woods where I know most of the hunting groups stay or to flush out our attackers but to make my way farther south.

South, perhaps swinging by Logan Lake to the southwest a bit, but eventually making my way to Merritt. I might not be able to do as much damage as Sect can with their attacks, but if I can get close enough, when they’re not watching, I believe Ali and I can at least gather further information about our attackers.

Hours of sneaking and scouting finally elicit a result—a small group of alien creatures, only two of which are humanoid. It’s the weirdest group I’ve ever seen, including a nightmare fish-like creature in an oval liquid containment unit with tripedal mechanical legs; a flowing mass of yellow-cream tentacles and mouths; and a ram-headed, cat-like creature with an extra pair of hands. At least the two humanoids are mostly human, even if they are weirdly colored and something you’d see in Farscape rather than Star Trek.

“What are those things?” I send to Ali.

“Don’t see them much. The aquatic is a Pismeen, tentacle-goo is a Mohran, and ramses is, well, we’ll call them Satyrs. You can’t properly pronounce or hear its name, so we’ll go with Satyr,” Ali says easily. “Must be one of the Sect’s mixed hunter groups. It’s not uncommon for Galactic organizations to put the minority species together.”

I grunt. That’s something I’ve noticed, that groups like the Truinnar, Hakarta, or the Yerick tend to be single species groups. I guess when you’re the dominant power in your region, it’s easier and better to keep to a single species for your groupings. Which makes mixed species groups rarer since they are, by virtue, a minority.

“We going to bury them?” Ali asks after he finishes naming the other two species.

I ignore their names for now, already pondering my choices. “No. We’re going to stalk them. I want to see if they meet up with our midnight attackers. Tell me about the weirdos.”

I make sure to let the group pull away even farther, just inside my ability to track them. Even now, their markers are weirdly shaded in my minimap, Ali’s way of indicating that they’re there because I can see them and not because he’s getting the information from the System.

“Okay. Well, let’s start with the Satyrs. Firstly, don’t ever get into a drinking contest with one—alcohol actually doesn’t affect their bodies at all…” Ali begins.

I only half-listen, since I do actually have to make sure I’m not caught. Still, it passes the time and gives me a little bit of information about new species.

The next few hours are surreal, watching the enemy group travel across the map, doing their best to hide so they aren’t found out while at the same time looking for our hunting groups. Groups which I have full view of in my map. Twice, barring a hill and a particularly dense piece of forestry, the Sect nearly stumbles upon our people—and vice versa. I’m glad it doesn’t happen though, since it’d waste all the time I’ve already invested.

So strange to think of a simple turn left or being five minutes slower and what could have been. Then again, isn’t that the truth about our lives? Half an hour one way, a different decision, and our lives would be so different. If I had never gotten a cup of coffee on that Saturday, I might never have met Anne. Trace it back further—if I had gotten up when my alarm first went off that morning, I’d have had time to make coffee for the day. Without meeting Anne, I’d never have traveled to Whitehorse. Never gotten my Class. Never met Lana or Ali.

Small decisions, small changes, and the course of our lives could alter by such a wide margin. Every day, we chide ourselves for past mistakes, past actions, calling forth a myriad of what-ifs of times past. We might never know of the hundred thousand small decisions that might have changed our lives. Still, we reprimand ourselves for the decisions we make as if, somehow, we know the optimal path.

As evening comes, I watch the group peel away, slowly heading south. I wonder if they’ll finally bring me to my prey. Of course, it’s not that easy. Twenty kilometers from Kamloops, and well out of sight of the settlement, the mixed species group gets on the road and calls forth various instruments of transportation, pulling away at speed. I stare in amazement at the mecha shrimp, shaking my head at the weirdness of the System world. Mecha. Shrimp.

I take my time getting on the road soon after and following, knowing I won’t be able to keep up and stay hidden. A failure of some form perhaps. There’s something to be said about knocking out their people, again and again, killing even the small fry till they have no one else to send.

But…

Sometimes, you have to wait. Play the long game. Hope to get the whole pot rather than bleeding them for a few chips here and there. So I head down the road, staying to the shadows and waiting. Maybe I’ll find something. Maybe I’ll fail. But for the first time in days, I feel useful again.

The message from Mel later that night was exasperating in its conciseness and the news it provided. Another attack, launched at ten and again at two in the morning. In neither case did the individuals who launched the attack come via the road I was watching. Which meant that my presence watching the road was of little use.

Yet… negative progress was still progress. Or could you call it negative progress? Probably not, now that I was thinking about it. Which tells you the kind of thoughts that occupy one’s mind when you’re seated in a small depression overlooking a darkened road early in the morning after spending the entire day awake.

I’ll admit there’s a small chance that the group involved might have sneaked past me. But a Skill that could hide sixty individuals from the System—or at least their data from people drawing information from the System—was powerful. So powerful that it must have been upgraded quite a few times. A Skill that could hide sixty people from the System and from visual and other line-of-sight sensing at the same time was insanely powerful. If my understanding of power levels in Classes is correct, that’d be a Master Class Skill. And if there’s a Master Class Sect member out here, they wouldn’t be bothering with all this bullshit.

Which leaves me with the question of what to do now. Option one—return to the area around Kamloops and work with the hunter groups to locate the attackers. That’s the safe option, the smart one. Take out the attackers, give the settlement some rest. But it’s also likely the one they’re expecting.

The other option, the one I want to do, is to ignore the attackers. I know the group I stalked left for another area. Probably a staging area in Merritt or somewhere else. Hit those guys, make their lives miserable. But the moment I take out one of their hunting groups outside of their city, I’m also letting them know that we’ve changed tactics and I’m out here.

Doing so would call down the dogs of war. Which means I need to make sure that when I do act, it does the most amount of damage possible. I sigh, leaning back, and go back to watching the road, turning the thoughts over in my mind.

Hours later, I finally give up on locating any hunter groups on this stretch of road and look at my brown friend. I don’t have to speak, but there’re no monsters or Sect members and I’d like to actually hear my own voice. “Am I selfish?”

“Yes,” Ali says automatically, then pauses as he considers my question. “Yes. What brought that on?”

“Lana,” I say, remembering the accusation leveled at me.

“Ah.” Ali shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. You’re sentient. Outside of a few, rather dumb, races, we’re all selfish.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Oh, come on, don’t sulk. What’s that thing you’re always muttering? What is, is?” Ali says. “This is the same thing. You’re selfish for wanting to go out and do this alone, because it gets you out of the city. Lana’s selfish for wanting you back in Kamloops, safe and with her. You’re both right to be selfish.”

“Greed is good?” I mutter, and Ali rolls his eyes.

“In moderation, sure.” Ali shrugs. “What, you don’t want to Level up?”

I grunt, thinking about that single Level I need to hit 40. All those Skills, all that power. Yes, I can admit it. I want to grow, to Level up. To become more powerful. And that’s greedy and selfish, but also practical and sensible and yes, sociable since I’m the bulwark for my group and town. “So… selfish. And greedy, charitable, and angry.”

“Or as I like to put it, sentient,” Ali says.

“Speaking of sentience…” I frown. “Why didn’t you recommend I buy a military AI? Or upgrade Kim to a military AI?”

“Probably because it’s a bad idea. You seem to think AIs are like your Skynet. They’re closer to the Machine.”

“The Machine?” I frown, raising an eyebrow at Ali, and he sighs.

“Person of Interest. Great show,” Ali says. “AIs are limited, both by the constraints placed upon them by the Galactic Council but also the information they’re able to ascertain. They’re only as good as the information provided, and you, my boy, are limited on the information you can provide. A good military AI needs a lot of information to function, to make the best guesses possible. It also needs to get trained to function properly.”

“Why?” I frown, shaking my head. “Can’t it, you know, figure out the optimal choices with what we have now? I thought buying the data stores gave it the training.”

“Not that kind of training. Look, let’s keep it simple. If I told you that we should kill all the ex-Serfs to remove the Sect’s objective for taking back the city, would you?” I glare at Ali, and he nods firmly. “Exactly. But it’s a viable, potentially even the easiest, solution. An AI might see that option, decide it’s the best option, and tell you that. Now, when you tell it no, you’ve got to explain why. Teach it.”

“Ah…” I tilt my head to look at Ali. “And how long does it take to teach an AI that?”

“How long’s the tapeworm?” Ali says. “Varies on the type, tier, resources, and how good you are at teaching and actually knowing what you want. With you? Quite a while.”

I sigh and nod. I can see Ali’s point and, on further thought, his point about lacking knowledge for the AI to actually make better decisions. It’s not as if we’re tapped into the Internet or anything, so the AI would be stuck with limited knowledge of the world. Unless we wanted to spend a ton of money purchasing information from the System, I can see how it’d be limited. It’s only because Ali is a linked Companion that he has access to as much information as he does. Even Kim is forced to rely on tapping into general System information channels and the information provided by the settlement.

For all his assurances, I am concerned about the AIs used by larger organizations. But since I can’t do anything about them right about now, I decide not to ask about it. I’ve had enough nightmares to last me for a while, and a galactic-wide, networked AI is one I don’t need.

After that, it’s a simple matter to continue my journey to Merritt. When dawn finally breaks, I’m situated on an appropriately far away and vertically dominant position to watch the tiny town. The hill I’m on is between the 5 and 97C highways, letting me keep an eye out for movement on either road—mostly via my map rather than visually—and also actually stare at the town itself. At this distance, and with my new Out of Class Skill I bought from the Shop and with Ali’s help, I should be safe. Once again, I read the Class Skill description for comfort than anything else.

Shrunken Footprints (Out of Class Skill Level 1)

Reduces System presence of user, increasing the chance of the user evading detection of System-assisted sensing Skills and equipment. Also increases cost of information purchased about user. Reduces Mana Regeneration by 5 permanently.

After the attack, I’d done further research into the ways they could have evaded our sensors. This, among many other Class Skills, was present. Some, like the Skills Ingrid uses, hide the user entirely—pure Stealth Skills—but are expensive to purchase as they’re normally restricted to their Classes. Many of them are active Skills, draining Mana from the pool immediately. While theoretically, with my Mana regeneration, I should be able to use some of those Skills, I’m also a direct combatant. Keeping up such a Skill seemed a bad idea, especially as constant use of an active Skill has deleterious side effects.

Others Skills, like the Shrunken Footprints, are less powerful overall but much more focused in their effects. And, obviously, cheaper. In this case, since I can rely on my real-world stealth skills, I just needed to reduce my System footprint. As it stands, so long as I don’t actively push matters, I should be pretty well hidden from casual scanning. Along with Ali’s help, we can even doctor some of the information given out.

Smiling at that knowledge, I turn back to the town spread out below me. Known more for a country music festival than anything else, the once-populous town is a ghost of itself. Not that I ever made it to the festival. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against country music, but the thought of the press of humanity at such an event is enough to make me shudder.

Still, the city shouldn’t be as much of a ghost town as I see. For the last hour, I’ve seen maybe a dozen different individuals, most of them alien-looking creatures. Yet not a single human can be seen. This could be because everyone died, which, while unlikely, is possible. However, I’m leaning toward a forced evacuation or a group of citizens so terrorized they aren’t willing to show their faces.

Once more, I cycle through all the visual processing options available on my helmet. Infrared, UV, X-ray, magnification, none of it helps. The distance is too great, the buildings too sturdy to leak any details. I can’t even tell if the city is a Village or Town, a safe zone, or just a series of unclaimed buildings, divorced by our System overlord.

Frustrating. But I spend the time watching anyway, quietly building up a count of who resides in the city and how many. Scouting, because when and if I attack them, I want, nay, I need it to count for something.

Days. Watching, counting, planning. Days, while a trickle of information sent by Kim through the System keeps me updated. As expected, morale is dropping, the constant harrying attacks and the occasional fight and death doing nothing to help. Sure, we occasionally come out better, but without an idea of how many we’re facing, it just seems like a constant, never-ending fight. Even our Leveling parties to the north have reported being attacked, making progress ever slower. The Sect is wearing us down, containing our people until they are ready. It’s a siege, even if there are no catapults or entrenched lines.

Days of watching has seen some progress though. I know now how many Sect members are in Merritt—twenty-three—and I’ve even managed to figure out their groupings. By now, I have a firm grasp of the group’s schedule. I’ve seen how they always keep at least two groups at home, rotating who’s on hunt each day. On two occasions, a full group came back less an individual or two. In one case, I’d even seen them return somewhat cockily and, on that same day, learned that they had nearly wiped out an entire hunter group on our side. That was a bad day and I had to contain myself from rushing in.

Truth be told, I had all the information I needed at least a day ago, but I’d hesitated from attacking because I wanted to verify if this was a trap. The fact that they stayed apart, sleeping and leaving at different times, made it seem just too easy. After all, an empty town with only Sect members in it is somewhat suspicious. But however closely I looked, I just couldn’t see the trap. In the end, sometimes all you can do is set the trap off and hope to get out.

Resolved to doing something mildly stupid, I make my way stealthily into town after the second group finally left for the day. If they followed their rough schedule, a third group would leave at some point within the next hour, leaving two groups behind to rest for the day. That was the time I had chosen to act.

Hunkered behind a convenient house, I pulled Sabre from my storage and transformed it. I waited for a second, listening and watching to see if I had been found out yet. Seeing nothing, I started up the Temporal Cloak, beginning the process of sneaking in deeper. My forehead creased as I received no notification that this was a claimed city or town.

“Ali?”

“John. I love you too.”

“What’s going on with the town?”

“They sold the town key a few weeks ago. Probably at the same time they started moving people out. Data on the town activities dropped off around the same time in the System, so I’m assuming that’s the case,” Ali says, eyes flicking over notification windows.

“Well, that at least removes the town’s sensors from the equation,” I say, looking for a bright spot.

I kind of wanted Merritt. It’s a decent midway point, but with the key sold, we’ll either have to pick up each of the buildings individually or repurchase the town settlement key ourselves. Though that does bring up the question of why the populace hasn’t purchased enough land to keep it as their own. After all, as Ali pointed out, you could just purchase enough property to force the System to create a settlement for you.

Idle thoughts as I continue to carefully make my way in. I grunt, bringing my attention back to the rather important point of not being found out. While the Sect seems to cluster in the city center, that doesn’t mean that they won’t or can’t explore.

For all my caution, I run into little trouble until I’m a half-block into the historical downtown district. Historical like North American historical—so within the last hundred years—not European or Asian historical, which is within the last few hundred or thousand years. Stubby little commercial buildings from around the turn of last century make up the city center. The Sect members have taken over the Coldwater Hotel, each of them probably lounging in the equivalent of a suite or something. Not a bad idea really, since one of the upgrades in a designated hotel includes laundry and other cleaning options. Assuming someone purchased it, which I’d have done.

“That is purchased, right? Any idea about the upgrades?” I ask Ali since, well, I might as well.

“It’s registered. That’s about all that’s relevant available. Climate control, Mana engine and battery, sonic showers and plumbing, I could go on…” Ali says with a shrug as he floats beside me.

I’m not surprised. It’s not as if I’d make the security upgrades I’d bought available for people to learn. Unfortunately, that does mean I’m not entirely sure how strong those walls are.

As I ponder my next steps, I watch a humanoid reptile-like creature walk out. The sleek emerald-green Sect member strolls down the street without a care in the world, the morning sunlight glinting off the purple highlights of her body.

???? (Level 29 Warrior (?))

HP:

MP:

Conditions: Oblivious

“What’s with the question marks?”

“Don’t want to probe too deeply right now.”

Pulling backward, I make sure to stay hidden while checking the timer of the Cloak. I’m going to need to make a move soon…

Still, I let the Sect member leave on whatever business she has. If I were Ingrid, this would be the perfect time to kill her. Sneak up, backstab and mute the attack, murdering her in silence before anyone knows. But I’m not Ingrid and I have no Skills to mute the attacks or her call for help. It’s not like I could walk up and slit her throat like in the movies—the System’s interference makes it hard to kill another with a single hit. Not impossible perhaps, but hard. Better to let her go than risk losing the element of surprise against everyone else.

Once she’s gone, I proceed with my initial plan. All around the building, I quietly add a series of explosives. Since I don’t have any real skill in demolitions, I go with the tried-and-true method of using more rather than less. After all, I need to destroy both the building and the people inside. And if you think about it, I’m just returning the looted explosives. See, I can be generous.

Only when I’m done and on the building across the street, crouched low and under cover, do I relax. Thankfully, the Sect isn’t a military organization. Rather than having scouts, watchers, and a fixed timetable, the members lounge about and relax, obviously content to take their time off. It reminds me a lot of the Adventuring Guild in Carcross and their members, rather than Capstan and the Truinnar or the Hakarta.

Rather than pursue that thought, I trigger the explosives. Interesting thing to note about explosions—you never hear them until after the explosive wave front hits you, the air moving faster than the noise. In addition, once the explosion has finished expanding, there’s a secondary “pull,” as nature abhors the vacuum. Even with the explosives directed to send the majority of their blast inward and upward, what does escape is enough to batter poor Sabre’s shield and my meager cover. Look, as I said, I’m not exactly trained in demolitions.

“One down,” Ali announces even as I pop up, waiting.

The building across the street is gone, now a mass of System-enhanced wood, steel, and concrete. Fires burn around the building and against a few others that were caught in the explosion, small and not-so-small craters in the ground where the explosives were laid. If not for the System’s enhancements, the explosions would likely have done more damage to the Sect members resting within.

Even as I think that, the rubble moves. A strong, multi-armed, orange creature with a topknot shoves a column away, a pair of short humanoids following it. In a corner, red smoke pours out of the broken concrete, swirling in a circle. A few seconds later, a cone of ice erupts from the ground a short distance away from the smoke, a figure encased in it like a human tootsie roll center.

Before the group can fully recover their senses, the covers over my mini-missile launchers open and let loose. A fraction of a second later, my left hand rises and a fireball forms, flying outward. I don’t stop, repeatedly casting the spell as fast as I can. While I have a personal preference for Lightning Bolt, the group below is too spread out for that spell. At least, right now.

The multi-armed topknotted creature snarls, grabs a piece of intact rubble twice its size, and holds it up in front of its body as the missiles streak toward it. The twin humanoids duck behind the monster, curling slightly to shield their bodies against the explosions. All around, the Sect members defend themselves—all but an unlucky bastard who manages to dig himself out just in time for the explosion to hit.

High-explosive missiles send waves of flame and compressed air through the surroundings, throwing up debris and turning it into shrapnel. Moments later, my first fireball explodes as well, flames moving in an aborted globe that envelops those below. The second and third explode soon after, the Sect members doing their best to protect themselves.

“Three more down,” Ali tells me even as I unload another fireball.

But my sneak attack is over and the group is firing back. Spells, beam weapons, an acidic fluid, and more target me, hammering Sabre’s shield and then mine in short order. Rather than duke it out at range, I focus and Blink Step forward, hiding myself from the incoming fireball behind the mostly melted spike of ice.

“Owwww! Those spells hurt,” Ali sends to me as he zips forward, still invisible. “You could have warned me you’re leaving.”

Raising my foot, I pivot, my blade sinking into the Mage’s body. It exits through his shoulder, the severed arm flopping to the ground, accompanied by a scream of pain. Arming and dropping a grenade by my feet, I Blink Step away to Topknot, ignoring the continued complaints from my Spirit. Even as the grenade explodes, finishing the job of killing the Mage, I’m attacking Topknot.

Topknot is good. The knife that might as well be a sword in his hand moves with impressive speed, blocking my surprise attack and the follow-ups. We dance, trading blows, while next to him, the last humanoid struggles to its feet, body thoroughly cooked. No time to finish it though. Just enough time to take a cut to my leg as I plunge my sword into Topknot’s chest and end that fight.

“The third group is on its way. Twenty seconds,” Ali tells me, his short form swooping down to clock the cooked humanoid in the head with his tiny fist. Tiny or not, between momentum and the creature’s injuries, the monster falls.

“Good job!” I grin at the now-visible Spirit. Just in time to see him get smashed aside by what looks like a giant crossbow bolt.

Turning, I see the female reptile monster turning the corner down the block, running away with the crossbow held up toward her body. I snarl, thinking of chasing her before recalling Ali’s earlier message. Rather than wasting time, I jump away from the wreckage, my hands moving as I deposit mines all across the street. Some land on the ground, tripwires exploding outward and almost disappearing from view before my helmet highlights them for me. Others burrow away, covering their casings in the dirt as they await their chance.

“Three seconds,” Ali says, once more invisible and intangible. Still, as he floats beside me, his hand clutches his side where he leaks blue light.

“Thanks,” I grunt.

I stop dropping mines and spin around, pulling my beam rifle from storage and snugging it to my shoulder. The first Sect member to turn the corner takes a beam to his waist, the sight of melted armor and burnt flesh making an appearance as he gets cut up. He throws himself to the side, attempting to dodge the shots, but I follow him, firing again and again.

Bolts of red and green land around me. A massive metallic spike shatters against Sabre’s shield, and wind blades crack the shield apart. I take another shot, injuring the sucker before I skip backward, eyes dancing over the group as I take in their Levels. No names, just Classes and Levels. A mixture of combat Classes, most simplified to “Warrior,” “Gunner,” “Healer,” or “Mage” for right now, while their Levels sit in the high 20s to mid-30s.

I snap off shots from the Inlin and launch missiles in a more controlled fashion, backing off slowly as I weave through their attacks. Even with my higher Agility, the sheer volume of fire means that I get hit constantly, my Soul Shield crumbling every second. Still, I persist, luring them closer.

The first pair of warriors reaches the mines, explosions and gloop flying. One is thrown into the air, a chunk of flesh sliced off his foot from a razorwire. Another is caught in insta-concrete as he struggles to free himself and pull at his own flesh as worms burrow into his body. The Healer slows down before it can reach them, the mechanical-biological body pulling to a stop as it waves four-fingered tentacles, magic wrapping around its friends. The others, ranged attackers, keep firing, chipping away at my defenses.

Polar zone. I raise my hand, casting the spell, and the temperature around the group drops immediately. The next second, I trigger the sonic pulser, the teeth-clenching shriek throwing off their aim and making my attackers stumble. Ali darts into their midst, his invisible body glowing as he activates his Elemental Affinity, tapping into the vibrations and molecules around. I can vaguely sense what he’s doing, the way he’s enhancing—or perhaps more accurately, breaking down—the stability of molecules around us. A neat trick, something I’ll need to work on later.

Disoriented and under attack or not, the group refuses to run through the minefield. The pair caught in it are attempting to extract themselves, the Healer too disrupted to finish its spells at the moment. Rather than letting them take the time to recover, I call forth Enhanced Lightning Strike, my Mana already down to a third. Too much. While electricity arcs through the air and dances between bodies and the ground, I have Sabre inject me with the Mana potions it has stored. The tightness around my temples from an incipient Mana headache disappears even as my body feels refreshed, since the Mana Regeneration potions adds to my natural regeneration rate.

Natural. Har!

I cut the Lightning Strike spell off before it drains me too far, knowing I can’t afford to let it go on much longer. Instead, I dash forward into the mine field, continuing to target the Healer with the majority of my attacks. Ducking around the mines and making sure I don’t trigger the ones that don’t have a friend-foe sensor eats up time. My sonic pulser shuts down, no longer able to sustain the caterwaul, allowing the group to recover.

“Oh man, I was just getting into the groove,” Ali moans, his invisible Spirit body stopping its waggling.

The group is experienced, I have to admit. Hurt and damaged as they are, the Healer is drinking its own healing potions while the Mage slams his hands together, earth erupting from the ground to hide the Healer. As the Mage does so, the ranged attacker lobs a canister over the emerging wall, the cannister exploding in a brief cloud of dust. A second later, I get a new notification.

Nano Machine Pollution detected.

Mana Regeneration decreased in surroundings for 5 minutes by 31.4%

I growl, my prey out of sight, even as one of the melee fighters throws out his hand. A single silver needle multiplies until thousands of them fill the air, glowing with a malevolent dark red light. Without stopping, they bypass my Soul Shield and stab through Sabre’s armor into my fleshy body.

You are poisoned!

-13 HP per second (after resistances)

Duration: 00:0:33

Pain erupts from the needles, as if acid is spreading from the needles throughout my body. I snarl, noting the duration, and change directions. In passing, I throw a grenade at the twitching form of the stuck melee fighter, focusing instead on the one that poisoned me.

You’d think a poisoner would look, I don’t know, devious and evil. Slimy perhaps. What I see though is a flamboyant, thin creature dressed more like a swashbuckler with a colorful, patched half-cloak. Very humanoid-looking too, other than the single eye that dominates his whiskered face. Running forward, I throw a Blade Strike, forcing d’Artagnan to duck even as he throws a pair of spikes at me underhand. Those, at least, don’t pierce my Soul Shield, though the shield suddenly shifts to a sickly-green color.

Soul Shield Corrupted

-15 HP per second

“Boy-o, they’re retreating. And teams one and two are on their way back. I’ve got team one on my screen already. They’re making damn good time,” Ali updates me.

I snarl slightly, covering the last few feet as my damaged and worn shield finally gives way. I lunge forward, my sword caught and pushed aside by d’Artagnan using one of his spikes. What he doesn’t expect is for the sword to disappear, throwing his balance off just long enough for me to step forward and cut up, bisecting his abdomen and chest. Even as he screams, I conjure a sword into my other hand to finish the job, lopping off his head. As he dies, I swipe my hand through his body and dump it into my storage space, glancing back at the burnt and twitching body of his compatriot, the worms making a mess of my attacker.

“Remind me to buy a cure for those mines,” I send to Ali even as I run to put the poor man out of his misery.

The Spirit pops out of the earthen wall a moment later, flying toward me as he flicks a small screen up in front of me. The remnants of the group I recently engaged slow down as they link up with the second group even as the first group to leave town appears on the edges of my map. It’s clear that they aren’t coming at me piecemeal anymore, gathering together for safety.

“Can I reach them?” I send to Ali, wondering if maybe I can pick off a couple more from the consolidated group.

“The running group? Sure. But they’re likely to play for time, bog you down,” Ali says.

A quick glance at my Mana level and its hampered regeneration shows that I’m running dangerously low again. That’s why I chose not to use Blink Step earlier, knowing that the Skill is expensive. Better to save a little just in case I need to run.

“Recommend you get out of the nano cloud at the least, boy-o,” Ali sends as I dither.

Nodding, I jump onto the roof of the nearest building, using Sabre’s jump jets to help cover the distance. Not that I couldn’t do it just using my stats, but the jump jets and anti-gravity plates make it a lot easier. As I fly through the air, I refresh the Soul Shield, wincing as my Mana drops again.

“Time to go,” I say and suit words to action.

Better to get out of here before they gather and try to track me down. I might be able to win, but getting encircled by a group of Advanced Level fighters worries me. No guarantee they don’t have a plan to get some real players in. Without the QSM – my Quantum State Manipulator which lets me phase partly into another dimension - my options for running away have decreased, so better to draw this out and keep hitting them one after the other.

Anyway, I’ve struck my blow. Now for the next part of my plan.

Chapter 15

A day and night later, I finally relax. Sons of bitches had someone with tracking Skills on their side, so I’d been forced to run and fight against the consolidated groups, reinforced by another hunting group that didn’t originate from the city. While I had no idea which one of three I managed to kill in our last encounter had the tracking Skill, I was finally confident that I had lost them. Either that, or they’re laughing their asses off while I hide at the bottom of this lake.

Once again, I go over the gains in my mind. There’s something to be said about fighting multiple sentients—the experience gain is definitely better than what you’d get killing monsters. I’m now three quarters to my next Level and I earned another seventy thousand Credits. Sadly, most of the equipment I looted is less than useful—some mediocre personal weapons, some damaged armor, and the usual slew of Mana and Healing potions. However, there are a few interesting things.

Triffgits Leeches of Poison Neutralisation

Guaranteed to remove most Tier V and IV poisons if applied within two minutes of infection. Do not store in System inventory.

I stare at the tiny bottle of writhing leeches, my face twitching in disgust as I stare at the black-and-green creatures. They really do look similar to Earth leeches, though I’m promised they feed on poisons rather than blood. Still, I’d have to be pretty desperate before using these.

Q’saex Nano Swarm Grenade

This specially designed nano-swarm will not directly damage your opponents but will instead constantly reproduce, using the ambient Mana in its surroundings to multiply the swarm. This will reduce all Mana regeneration in the affected regions during this period.

Affect: -40% Mana Regeneration

Duration: 20 Minutes

“That’s dangerous,” I mutter, staring at the pair of grenades in my hand. I slip them back into the external storage locations for Sabre.

“Worried about your grey goo scenario? Don’t be. The nanites are programmed to shut down after twenty minutes. And even if they weren’t, the System would shut them down soon after,” Ali reassures me as he darts around the lake, chasing a few barracuda-looking fish. At Level 3, those things aren’t dangerous to me and supposedly make good eating.

“How sure are you?”

“Very. It’s pretty well-recorded that the System has defenses against nanite encroachment. In fact, a lot of studies show that the System hampers nano-machines and reproduction, along with out-of-control AIs,” Ali says.

“So I noticed it says forty percent here,” I say. Of course, it might be that the group all just had different toys, but this seems like something the team might have pooled money together to purchase as a group.

“Forty percent based off Galactic Standard, remember? We’re in a Mana-rich environment in a Dungeon World, so the effect is less,” Ali sends back.

“Right,” I say, listening to the echo of my voice in my helmet.

I draw another breath of recycled air and I swear, I can taste my own unbrushed breath. I know it’s psychological, that the helmet and Sabre’s environmental filters have removed it all, but I’ve been here for hours. Still, I force patience on myself again. Two more hours, that’s what I promised myself. Two hours and I’ll be out.

We forget how big Canada is, when the roads are perfect and the weather is great. While the weather today is nice—a warm summer day with a light breeze blowing—the roads themselves are a mess. There’s an entire stretch on the 5 between Merritt and Hope where the ground is a swamp, the road buried under murky waters where things reach out to grab at Sabre. I’m grateful I picked up the anti-gravity plates for the PAV, allowing me to traverse the sudden change in environment with ease.

When the roads are great, we forget the size of our country thinking that a three-hour drive is a reasonable thing to do on the weekend. It’s something more than one overseas acquaintance has pointed out, that the same amount of time would put you into a new country in many parts of the world.

But without roads, with monsters and enemies all around, what should have been a few hours’ drive takes me days. Alternately, driving alongside the road, or in some cases, diverting entirely away, I find myself finally nearing the Lower Mainland. Not Vancouver itself, but Mission as I switch to the 7.

A part of me wonders if I’m entirely insane, going directly into the lion’s den. Of course, it is insane, but I’m banking on Ali and Shrunken Footprints to make it less so. Ingrid could do this better, sneak right in and stab someone to death, but she’s got her own job to do. Between my stealth Skills, the Class Skill, and my ability to run away really fast, I’m the best choice for entering Vancouver. Or at least, that’s what I keep trying to convince myself on.

Once I near Mission, I get off the road. Traveling takes longer off-road, since I have Sabre stored away and am on foot. I weigh the pros and cons of keeping on my skintight, high-tech armor and eventually go with on. While I’m not sure how many humans in this area might have it—certainly, everyone in Whitehorse took to wearing a variation of it as a matter of course—it’s black, doesn’t make much noise, and offers some additional passive protection. Rather than take that away, I just opt to take more time sneaking in.

Alleyways and side roads do well for me, leaving me with few encounters and none of note. Ali’s ability to sense others means that we can swing wide around potential problems long before they see us, leaving only a few low-Leveled monsters that we can safely ignore. Not that we see many sentients anyway, other than the occasional scavenger party breaking into abandoned buildings, looking for necessities.

Curious, and nearer to downtown Vancouver itself, I make my way into an abandoned office building, this one once hosting individuals that used to sell million-dollar shacks. There’s an irony in watching the very people that the realtors used to prey upon ransack those same structures. I watch the scavenger group through the windows, curious to see what they take. Food sometimes, jewelry of course, but more mundane items are common too. Toilet paper, menstrual pads, books, LPs, and DVDs are more common.

It takes me a while to puzzle that out. Consumables and jewelry sure, but the LPs and DVDs only make sense after I realize it’s culture. Music. Things we can’t get or produce anymore, that comfort in times of stress and uncertainty. A wave of sadness washes over me with the realization that we might never get another ZZ Ward, Meatloaf, or Whedon creation. All that we have, all that is made, that’s all we’ll ever have.

After a time, I push down the grief and focus again on their scavenged goods. In a nuclear war, we might be scrounging for oil and food, but here, food is all around us. Oil is useless since most of our machines are dead and Mana engines are so much more efficient. Guns—non-System registered guns—are laughable toys that barely affect anything other than the lowest Level vermin.

No, in this apocalypse, the most important resource is Levels. People create Levels, so people are important, but a single high-Level individual is still more important than a series of low-Levels.

“You know, the System is a bit of an elitist,” I whisper to Ali, rubbing my nose as I hunker down, watching the group on my map as they move to another building. This time, they’ve decided to leave someone on watch. When Ali sends me a mental huh, I explain my earlier thoughts.

“Talk in your head. And of course it is,” Ali says. “That’s the System for you. But don’t tell me you thought your society was fair either. At least with the System, you’ve got a chance to Level up.”

Rather than argue with Ali about the merits or demerits of democracy, I ask him another question that has been bothering me. “Whatever. Can’t change it, can we? Tell me something else. What’s to stop a really rich or powerful group from loading up on Shop-bought Skills, making them invincible?”

“Mmm… nothing? Or well, practicality, I guess. Obviously Mana regeneration limits the passives,” Ali sends, waggling his fingers. “And since you can’t really stack most Mana regeneration-boosting Skills, there’s no way to get around that. For the active Skills, you’ve got the problem of Mana pool to worry about. Easy enough to get a ton of different Skills, but if you can’t afford to use them, they aren’t much use. But yes, there are people who pack a lot more punch for their Level than they should have because they’ve bought a bunch of Skills.”

I slowly nod. In the end, those with money and influence have a head start, whether in the System or our old world. Add in the fact that we’re working a knowledge deficit compared to the rest of the galaxy, and us humans are at a severe disadvantage. But that’s okay. As my dad once said, even if you have to work twice as hard to be half as good, most people aren’t willing to put in the work to start.

What I see before me, from my map and the occasional glance out the window, tells the truth of that too. The Sect members I’ve fought are decent, smart and experienced. But compared to the human teams at the same Level, especially those from Whitehorse, they’re missing something. An edge, a drive, that we have. I can even see it in these kids, the way they move and scavenge. Come to think of it, the Yerick have it to a slightly lesser extent too.

If we survive, if we manage to make our way through the colonization of our world and not fall into despair, we might just do okay. To do that though, we have to have to our own areas of control, our own cities. And that means beating the hell out of the Thirteen Moon Sect. Settling comfortably again, I wait for the group to get moving so that I can get back on task.

My first big hurdle is the Pitt River. Rather than cross it along the actual bridge, I swing north for a bit, running in the dead of the night through empty streets till I hit an abandoned golf course. From there, I swim across the river in the early morning light and hide out in someone’s expensive and torn-up home. Whoever built the house was a fan of the typical West Coast design with lots of windows, which meant that when the monsters came, there was nothing sturdy to hold them out. I ignore the months-old signs of struggle, grateful that the scavengers have removed the bodies.

After that, I scavenge some old clothes. Blue jeans and a T-shirt with a goth girl with an ankh design on it replaces my combat gear. I keep the sidearm and a beam rifle though, wearing both out in the open, along with the combat boots. While the weapons might be a tad more expensive than normal, everyone’s packing these days. A quick discussion with Ali has him shifting some information on my Status. He can’t do much about the Level, but I now read as a Level 39 Guard. High enough to raise more than a few eyebrows, but at least to all casual scans, I’m just a Basic Class.

Working my way towards downtown Vancouver the next evening is easy. Making sure to come in with the scavenger groups means I’m just another dot on the Sect’s sensors as I walk in through the streets of Coquitlam. That’s the thing about the Lower Mainland and Canada. While we might have lost ninety percent of our population, Canada’s population has always been concentrated in a few major cities. Even ten percent of a million is a lot of people, and with all the towns around the city abandoned, the survivors have concentrated significantly. All those people need to hunt, farm, build, and otherwise improve themselves. Which means hunting parties, scavenger parties, farming groups, and more. The Sect might own and run the place, but they don’t have the numbers to check out everyone.