Life in the North: An Apocalyptic LitRPG

Figuring out what I intend to do with my Class Skills, on the other hand, is much simpler. I’ve wanted Sanctum and Army of One for a while now, and I can buy them. So I do.

Sanctum

An Erethran Honor Guard’s ultimate trump card in safeguarding their target, Sanctum creates a flexible shield that blocks all incoming attacks, hostile teleportations, and Skills. At this Level of Skill, the user must specify dimensions of the Sanctum upon use of the Skill. The Sanctum cannot be moved while the Skill is activated.

Dimensions: Maximum 10 cubic meters.

Cost: 1,000 Mana

Duration: 1 minute and three seconds

“Whoa.” I blink, staring at the Mana cost. A thousand Mana. That’s insane. Even with my frankly ridiculous Stats, I can only cast this once. A proper Erethran Honor Guard who’d advanced the normal way could probably cast this twice at best. And the duration isn’t even that great.

“Boy-o, just to clarify, since I’m summarizing the actual System description as always, this Skill blocks everything. Someone could drop an orbital strike backed up by a dragon’s curse on you and nothing would get through,” Ali says.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Damn…” I say, staring at the description. “What’s with the three seconds?”

“Figured on this one, we need a little precision,” Ali says pointedly.

I consider the matter and nod. Yeah, I can see how knowing exactly how long my ability to be invincible lasts would require exactness. Most other times, it matters a lot less.

Army of One

The Honor Guard’s feared penultimate combat ability, Army of One builds upon previous Skills, allowing the user to unleash an awe-inspiring attack to deal with their enemies.

Effect: Army of One allows the projection of (Number of Thousand Blades conjured weapons * 3) Blade Strike attacks up to 200 meters away from user. Each attack deals 2 * Blade Strike Level damage (inclusive of Mana Imbue and Soulbound weapon bonus)

Cost: 750 Mana

I admit, it takes me a bit to figure out the math on this. Basically, it works out to three conjured Thousand Blades multiplied by three—nine—attacks that each deals the equivalent of my Soulbound weapon’s attack. Which, at the present moment, is slightly over a hundred points of damage. That works out to ten attacks—including the original strike from my sword—each dealing about two hundred points of damage, which I can use as an area-of-effect or targeted strike. Put another way, I could almost one-shot myself with just base damage, which doesn’t include external effects like armor or targeting. And this is only the first Level.

“Jesus…” I swear. If I’d had this during our most recent battle… then again, without Portal at Level 3, I wouldn’t have been able to bring my friends. Well, not easily at least, since my range would have been shortened significantly.

Truthfully, the next Level up in Portal is tempting too. It adds approximately 4,000 kilometers to my range, which is significant. I could easily jump from Whitehorse to LA—if I ever traveled that far first.

“These Skills are over-powered,” I mutter.

“Eh… you should see Mike’s penultimate Skills. Hell, you saw his Sphere of Protection. It gave all friendlies within its bubble a 30% bonus to their resistances,” Ali says.

That’s when I realize. “You’re back?”

“We don’t actually need to take as long as you meatbags to talk, boy-o.”

I sigh and shut up, letting myself sink into the couch. “Asshole.”

Sleep. I’m here for sleep.

Chapter 2

I find Aiden standing outside my house early the next day, as I return from a hunting session. A quick check with Ali had indicated that the Kapre had been having issues with an Alpha monster a short jog from town, and after accepting their quest, I proceeded to apply a judicious amount of fire to the problem. And then a lot of Polar Zones. Look, you tell me how else I’m supposed to deal with a sentient moss monster.

Soot covered, with the taste of ash in my mouth, all I wanted was a hot shower and breakfast. Cleanse might clean me, but it never felt right. Which meant that my visitor, manbun and all, is an unpleasant surprise.

“Aiden,” I greet my ex-party member and teacher.

An extremely talented Mage who mixes his esoteric, mangled Eastern philosophy with an analytical mind to advance his magic, Aiden is also a minor coward. After a number of harrowing experiences with us, he no longer journeys out of the city. I disagree—passionately—with his decision, but I understand it. It makes our relationship weird since I desperately try not to judge his actions and fail, then I spiral into mental admonishment of myself over it.

“John. I was hoping I could catch a ride?” Aiden says.

“Ride?”

“To Kelowna. Lana mentioned in a message that you purchased a Mana field enhancement in the city. I was hoping to study it, perhaps improve the core formula, and well, bring it back,” Aiden explains.

“Of course. I need a shower, but we’ll go after that.” I pause after stepping into the door, curious. “How’d you know I was back? And when to see me?”

“Ah…” Aiden shifts uncomfortably.

“Roxley.”

“Yes.”

I leave before I say anything I would regret. Being on Roxley’s good side is smart, especially if you’re living in Whitehorse. The man did nothing wrong. Just because that devious, back-alley scoundrel…

Exhale. Shower. Portal. Breakfast.

Breakfast is in Kelowna, a simple series of Portals away. Aiden and I joined the team—or the portion of it that’s here—which includes Sam, our Level 39 Technomancer; Lara; and Mikito. Ingrid, our Assassin / Thief / general sneaky body is still in Seattle, making nice with the Americans. With the Sect pulling back entirely, the Americans have devolved into a series of skirmishes with one another as they scramble for control in the city.

After I made the necessary introductions, most everyone left me alone to enjoy my breakfast while the girls caught up with Aiden and Sam stayed his taciturn self. Sam rarely gets involved in our private conversations, a factor I enjoy about the older gentleman.

“Did John make arrangements for where you’ll be staying?” Lana asks Aiden after they’ve finished discussing the latest gossip from Whitehorse, the majority of breakfast finally finished.

“No…”

At Lana’s look, I protest, “I didn’t even know he was coming till this morning!”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got an apartment where we can put you up,” Lana says with a sniff at me.

“We’ve got an apartment?” I say, surprised.

“Not all of us enjoy sleeping on the floor of the nearest abandoned room,” Lana teases, making Mikito smile.

Even Sam snorts a little. Then again, that man set up his little house-cum-workshop almost immediately. As far as I know, Sam has a workshop in every major settlement he’s visited and spent more than a week in.

“It’s convenient,” I mutter. Between my high Constitution and resistances, sleeping on the floor isn’t really that uncomfortable. In fact, with System-aided healing, I don’t even wake up with sore muscles. I’ll admit though, I do enjoy sleeping in a real bed sometimes, but that’s what my house in Whitehorse is for. After all the upgrades we’ve done for the building, even with the massive swarms, it stays in good shape.

“Thank you. If you show me where it is, I’d love to get started on the enchantment immediately,” Aiden says. “I can already feel the difference in my regeneration rate.”

Lana nods, getting up and setting her plates aside, shortly followed by Aiden. Sam takes his leave at the same time, off to continue working on his latest project—an analysis and dismantling of Sabre. With my Personal Assault Vehicle badly damaged during our last encounter, it’s still in the process of fixing itself, which makes it the perfect time for Sam to analyze the changes. While he doesn’t expect to actually replicate the machine, the knowledge he’s gaining is supposedly increasing his skills significantly.

That leaves Mikito, who I gesture to stay when she gets up. The dark-haired lady sits down quietly, hands folded all prim and proper. Hard to imagine that this sophisticated, well-mannered young lady is also one of the deadliest—if not the deadliest—melee duelist I know. Well, excepting a certain frustrating Truinnar.

I break the silence with a prosaic question. “How are you doing?”

“Well.”

“Well, as in good or well as in well, things could be worse?”

“I am doing fine,” Mikito says. “Lana already spoke to me last night. Your concern is touching but unnecessary.”

I grimace at my friend. This… well, this is an area I don’t know how to handle. She’s hurting a bit, but if she says she’s good, what am I supposed to do? Tell her she isn’t? The fact stands that we all have our own pain, our own emotional scars. This world isn’t one where you can spend years in therapy, talking about your feelings till you get better. The next crisis is always just around the corner.

“Okay,” I say, slumping back. After a moment, I meet her gaze and change the topic. “We’ve been missing our morning training sessions.”

“You’ve not been around,” Mikito says.

“Yeah. Whitehorse or Vancouver’s fast becoming my base of operations. Simpler that way. I could use your evaluation on the delvers in Vancouver. And I’ve been meaning to test out their dungeon.”

“Lana says it’s only a gradated dungeon? It gets harder the farther you go?” Mikito says quietly. “Doesn’t seem like you need me for that.”

“Well, no one knows how strong it is anymore. At least, none of the delvers, though they believe the Sect did. Be nice to understand that,” I say, shrugging. “Furthest the teams have gotten is to a Level 40 plus building zone, and they barely made it out at that.”

“When?”

“Pardon?”

“When do you want me there?” Mikito clarifies.

“When can you get up?” I pause. “Down.”

Mikito bites her lip as she thinks things through. “We still need to work out who is going to replace Mel. None of the… the…” She clears her throat. “No one is shining through right now. And I’d like to get their average Level up a little more.”

I stay silent, letting her work things through herself. I know part of the reason why she’s taking so long to leave here is a reluctance to let go, a need to do good by Mel and her apprentice. Who, I have to admit, I can’t even remember the name of. I know I could if I wanted to, but I don’t. Dwelling on the past, the many people lost, is just a road to further pain.

“Two weeks. Maybe three,” Mikito finally says.

“All right.” I nod, accepting her word. It’s not great, but I’m sure I can figure out something to do in the meantime. If nothing else, my goal of basically visiting every village, town, and other settlement in BC will be mostly done by then.

Routine. I’m falling into a routine, even after a few days of peace and quiet. Training, breakfast, Portal to the last town I was at before exploring further to map and add the new locations to my map of explored places. Spend a couple of hours of exploring, then Portal again back to Vancouver and my office on the top floor of the central library and thus the City Center. Depending on how far and which direction I’m going, it sometimes requires multiple Portals, but that doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.

Routine. That is how she finds me. By the time I’m fully cognizant of my actions, I’ve dropped the Portal, cast a Soul Shield, and have my sword at the lady’s neck. She raises an eyebrow, seated as she is at a desk—a new desk, set perpendicular to mine—all coiffed and put together.

“Mr. Lee,” she says. “Or do you prefer your Galactic titles?”

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?” I snarl.

Ali floats above me as he updates my minimap with more information. Lots of dots right outside my door. At least a dozen, though they’re all coded grey for non-aggressive. At least for now.

“My name is Katherine Ward. I’m your new personal assistant,” the woman says, meeting my gaze without fear.

Seeing that there’s no direct physical threat at the moment, I pull my sword back while regarding the older lady. Late or mid 50s probably, with smooth skin, minimal natural makeup, a pixie-cut hairstyle that frames piercing brown eyes, and a form-fitting, classic business suit. In other words, the perfect secretary.

Katherine Ward (Level 21 Assistant)

HP: 120/120

MP: 240/240

Conditions: None

“What? The male secretaries go on strike?” I say wryly, walking to sit on my desk as I stare at the woman. She’s no physical threat to me.

“There were few men doing this job even before the incident,” Katherine says. “There are even fewer now. And as you might note, none of them are here.”

“What makes you think I’d hire you?” I say, shaking my head. “You just walked into my office and set up.”

“Well, for one thing, your AI has agreed to the need for me,” Katherine says. “For another, the fact that I could just walk into your office speaks of a lack of organization on your part.”

I grunt. She’s not wrong. Being accosted by random individuals with their own agendas has been driving me slightly insane. That I’ve been using Portal and Blink Step to get away from them is less than dignified. Though effective. But dodging the problem can hold only for so long…

“Kim?”

“WE HAVE CONDUCTED EXTENSIVE INVESTIGATION INTO MS. WARD’S PRIOR EXPERIENCE. HER RESUME IS EXTREMELY IMPRESSIVE, WITH PRIOR WORK EXPERIENCE INCLUDING CEOS OF YOUR WORLD. PRIOR TO YOUR APPEARANCE, MS. WARD WAS ONE OF THE MAIN ORGANIZERS OF THE EASTSIDE ASSOCIATION.”

“The what?”

“EASTSIDE ASSOCIATION—A GROUP OF LIKE-MINDED ARTISANS WHO WORKED AS A CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION TO MANUFACTURE COMPLEX EQUIPMENT FOR RESALE. THE ASSOCIATION USED PROFITS TO PROVIDE ASSISTED HOUSING AND LOAN REPAYMENTS.”

“What bits-for-brains means is that she’s a do-gooder with skills. And diplomacy. After the art restoration incident, we decided you needed some help. Bits and I did some research and reached out to a few candidates. Unfortunately, she’s the only one not majorly compromised. So far,” Ali says.

“And the ambush?” I growl softly to him while I stare at Katherine. She hasn’t flinched, just sitting there waiting.

“Her doing. We were actually going to talk to you about her tonight.”

“What’s with the ambush?” I say out loud.

“After the limited information provided by Kim, I conducted some research myself. It was soon clear”—and at that, she looks at the door leading out of my office—“that you require help in organizing your day. While you desire to not be ‘bothered’ by such incidents, you do need to deal with them. Or at least arrange for others to deal with them.”

“And you can help with that,” I state flatly.

“Yes.”

“How do I know you don’t have your own agenda? People you’ll sneak into places of power?”

“You are asking how you’d expect to trust me and that is an impossible question. Trust must be built and we currently are strangers. However, be assured that your AI is watching what I do,” Katherine says.

“As am I.”

“If we are finished with the interrogation, I have a recommended schedule for the day. I have set aside an hour for you to meet with petitioners—fifty-five minutes now—after which we have an hour for hiring. And then—”

“Why not the other way around?” I interrupt.

“At this time, we do not have a full grasp of your responsibilities. Also, as evidenced, you have certain trust issues. It is better for you to gain some first-hand experience with your petitioners. I would even recommend that you randomly select some to speak with on an on-going basis even after hiring and delegation is complete.”

“I…” I consider what she said and wave her to continue. Fine. Let’s see how this plays out. If there’s a trap here, I’m not experienced enough to see it. Or I am, but I want to see how it plays out. Because she’s right—avoiding running the city isn’t going to work. And the council is too busy fighting about how they’re going to run it to actually do it. But… “Tomorrow morning, I want it free.”

“For…?”

I smile, waving her to continue.

Hours later, after a number of meetings with petitioners and job applicants, I’m finally alone. One thing I’m grateful for is Katherine having the foresight to order in lunch. When lunch is served, Lana saunters in, glancing at Katherine with narrowed eyes. After a few minutes of soft-spoken conversation, the initial wariness slips away from my girlfriend as she drops into a chair next to me.

“How’d you make it here?” I say, frowning. One of the more significant purchases I intend to make is the installation of communication arrays in each settlement. Once set up, they will allow for long-distance transmissions between each settlement. “And how’d you find me?”

“Mmm… your new assistant contacted me,” Lana says around a mouthful of crab. “And I took the boys out for a run.”

I grunt, wanting to chide her for risking her neck, but decide against it. Lana’s a survivor like me and can handle herself. Anyway, with her pets, in many ways, she is a lot tougher than she should be for her Level. Especially since she’s been focusing on Leveling them lately. Especially Roland. Roland is scary.

“Katherine?” I say with a frown. I’m really curious how my new assistant knows enough to contact Lana already so quickly.

“My Class provides me with a number of Skills. A minor Skill in communication called ‘Contact List’ allows me to contact a certain number of individuals within my sphere of influence. Normally I’d need to designate them individually, but with another Skill of mine—Intuit—I am able to access a portion of what would be your contact list. It was a simple matter then to mark Ms. Pearson as a priority individual,” Katherine says. Interestingly enough, she’s also pulled a plate of food to her, though she’s eating with significantly more decorum. I guess the lady has no problem eating in front of her boss. “Now, we were going to speak about your most recent interviews…”

I sigh, but considering Lana’s here, I might as well make use of her skills and knowledge. At this point, I get a nice surprise as Ali uses his gifts as my companion to flash up images of each applicant as we speak, allowing Lana to view them and, in some cases, watch certain portions of the interview.

While we don’t have a broad-based idea of the government system that we want in place, we do have the roughest of sketches. Security, legal, education, and city management are the highlights. The last encompasses a lot of things, from city planning for new System-registered buildings to working with petitioners who have their own ideas about what the city needs. We already have a burgeoning homeless problem—System-homeless that is—which needs to be resolved. With pre-System infrastructure slowly falling apart, staying in non-registered homes is fast becoming less and less comfortable for many.

We talk, debate, and weigh the pros and cons of the applicants for our budding bureaucracy. Of the eight who arrived and passed Kim’s background checks, three are removed from the list for being too skeezy. Another two are put on hold till we can find a proper task for them. And the last three are hired to begin the process of actually putting together a working bureaucracy. Thankfully, with the System and the various Skills involved, the numbers we would require should be significantly lower than pre-System. Never mind that we’ve also got a much lower population. Unfortunately, Security continues to be a crucial gap. Everyone who could do the job has either been deported by the Sect or is a delver and thus tied to the vying political groups.

“I approve,” Lana says, stretching in her chair as silence finally finds us. “Roxley mentioned that you’d need an assistant soon unless I wanted to be stuck with the job. It was part of the reason why I came down today actually. But Katherine seems to have things well in hand.”

“Never said I’ve hired her,” I say.

Katherine doesn’t rise to my provocation, continuing to eat calmly, having already informed the successful applicants. I’ll have to give them their brief tomorrow and get them working on hiring others, but at least this should sort out some of the pressing applications. And perhaps get the city back up and running. Not surprisingly, the Sect took their own form of organization with them, and in any case, the Sect had very different objectives than us—for one thing, we have the entire downtown now available for reallocation.

“She seems to be doing a good job,” Lana says.

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave, indicating Lana is correct. Good job or not, I don’t like the feeling of being rushed, even if I can admit that we’re getting a lot done.

“Lana says to stop being so paranoid. You need the help and we’ll keep an eye on her.”

“What’s next on the agenda?” I ask, deciding to change the subject.

“Upgrades,” Lana says.

“Fair enough,” I say.

The moment I do, Kim displays the summarized Settlement Management Screen.

Summarized Settlement Status

Current Population: 129,308

Combined Settlement Treasury: 98.93 Million Credits (+157k per day)

Combined City Mana: 13,309 Mana Points (+298 Mana per day)

Taxes: 10% Sales Tax on Shop

Facilities of Note: City Dungeon (1), Mega Farms (3)

Enchantments of Note: Mana Collection Field

Defenses of Note: Settlement Shields (III * 1 & IV * 2)

While it is a summarized information screen about the major areas of concern for the settlements under my control, it obviously misses a lot. Still, considering I need to know the basics, it is a good starting point. Interestingly enough, while Credits could be transferred between settlements without any issue, transferring Mana is actually much more expensive and ends up being a 5-to-1 ratio. The summarized amount shows the Mana we have available if we use it in Vancouver, which would obviously change depending on where we want to trigger the Mana usage. Considering Mana usage is mainly linked to upgrading or changing higher-tiered buildings, it isn’t as much of an issue. Yet.

One thing I don’t like is the way the defensive notes don’t list the full defenses of each settlement. Then again, as I’ve noticed in Kamloops, anything that isn’t stupidly powerful is pitiful when stacked up against a real assault. Which I guess split defenses into two kinds: those useful against monsters and those that are needed against other sentients.

“Not sure I’m that confident in spending our Credits on upgrades yet,” I say, frowning at the information. “I know Kyle has specific goals—especially with the Adventurers Guild, whose reps I should meet—but I’m sure the Kelowna council have ideas too now that we’re not on a war footing.”

“Might be an idea to throw the question at your Vancouver council too,” Lana adds. “There’s nothing that the city needs desperately, so we can let them argue it out and offer their suggestions.”

“That’s… not a bad idea.” At the worst, it’d give them something else to argue about while I deal with the actual work of running the city. But I’d invited everyone onto the council—or well, acceded to their demands to be included—because they were parties of import in the city and could provide me more information about it. Which meant they might actually be able to provide some real information. “Katherine…”

“I’ll message the council members and let them know you’d like their feedback on the priorities for improvements to the city at the next scheduled meeting,” Katherine says.

“Thanks,” I mutter, staring at the screen.

Perhaps the most interesting thing we have is the City Dungeon. We actually have a natural dungeon forming on the grounds of Simon Fraser University, but thankfully, it’s high up in the mountains and currently still growing. It’s still something that needs to be dealt with, but for now, I focus my attention on the City Dungeon.

Over the time I spent reading about the System, I’d learnt a little about City Dungeons. City Dungeons are different from natural dungeons. Natural dungeons form from an overabundance of Mana and the fortitudinous encounter with a monster. Or vice versa—an Alpha monster can, through its continued presence, potentially develop a natural dungeon. Depending on the type and volume of Mana, the natural dungeon can be a single-clear dungeon or a multiple-clear dungeon where the System actually forms the monsters from “memory.” In both cases though, these natural dungeons often have a specific difficulty level that permeates the entire dungeon—mostly due to the monster type(s) that inhabit them.

City Dungeons, on the other hand, are always multiple-clear dungeons. They are formed through the conscious redirection of Mana flow into a specific area, with enchantments, rituals, and Mana engines directed to contain and form the dungeon. City Dungeons are generally structured, with upper levels being the lowest available zone and growing in difficulty as you journey deeper. The most common City Dungeon type is an underground dungeon with each level a new, more difficult zone. The larger the city, the more settlements that feed the dungeon structure, the more powerful and greater the potential difficulty the dungeon will have.

However, our City Dungeon is slightly different. Rather than an entrance to an actual dungeon, it is spread out across what used to be the University of British Columbia. The grounds are generally considered the basic zone meant for beginners. Faculty buildings and residences are where the actual dungeon levels are located, with certain faculties being more dangerous than others.

All that information gives me some context when I review the City Dungeon management screen.

City Dungeon

Location: Vancouver

Dungeon Level: Tier III

Mana Consumption: 218 per day

Known Spawns: Jackalopes, Evolved Canada Geese, Wolpertinger, Spirits, Kmi Leeches, Medusa, Tikbalang, Mngwa

Known Loot: Hide (of Known Spawns), Trivial, Minor, Major Healing & Mana Potions, Tier V Beam & Projectile Weapons, Tier IV & V Bladed Weapons, Tier V Explosives, more…

“Hey, Ali, can you explain the Tier system again? I’m a bit confused here,” I mutter, waving at the Dungeon Level. “We’ve talked about how each Tier V is basically beginner equipment, and Tier IV is up to Level 20 or so. And how the Tiers work on a logarithmic process, so Tier III is roughly what? Up to Level 50? That doesn’t seem to work right, because then Tier II would be the entire Advanced Class.”

“The Tiers are for tech items mostly. Basically, any replicable that can be mass produced,” Ali says. “Tier I and II items are generally high-level military items, things that are reserved for their use when taken in the larger context. Obviously anyone can buy them, but you get a lot of raised eyebrows when you buy a Tier II spaceship.

“In terms of Levels, you could consider the tech tiers to cover most of the Advanced Class with Tier II weaponry being basically powerful enough to seriously injure a high Level Advanced Class combatant. As an example, you’ve probably noticed that Sabre isn’t really up to your standards anymore. Mikito certainly doesn’t bother using her PAV half the time. In general, you’d be looking for things in the next section—the enchanted, unique, and legendary items which all have their own tiers.”

I frown. “So you’re saying most equipment doesn’t really work for Master Level Classes?”

“No, I’m saying that at that level, they’re playing on a different field. They’re getting unique items custom-made for them rather than picking things up from the Shop or Dungeons. Rather than relying on random drops to augment their abilities, they want equipment that will either buff up specific advantages or deal with certain disadvantages. Once you’re a Master Class individual, specialization matters,” Ali says. “Also, they’ll probably have a couple of sets of equipment to swap around, for social and combat situations at the very least.”

“And the dungeon tier?”

“A Tier III dungeon isn’t exactly the same. It’s more an expression of how many Adventurers and the number and types of monsters that the dungeon has than the Level of loot. Tier III means that it’s suitable for Adventurers up to the mid-to-high Advanced Classes, potentially higher if you consider bosses. As a group, that is. It’s rare to see a City Dungeon above Tier III. In fact, if you weren’t on a Dungeon World, it’s unlikely your city would have anything above a Tier IV. But with the excess Mana you guys have…”

“It’s easier,” I say.

“It’s almost a given. See your SFU.”

I grunt in acknowledgement and sigh. “And the list of loot?”

“Just what’s known. City Dungeons create loot slightly differently. Obviously monster drops are the same, if less, than what you’d get naturally. But you also get equipment from drops in a city dungeon. Just realize that they can be occasionally… umm… quirky.”

“THE COMMON ADVENTURER TERMINOLOGY IS CURSED.”

“Yeah…” Ali opens his hands slightly. “There are rules involved. The dungeon owner feeds the schematics for such items—or the actual items, though that’s less effective—into the City Dungeon via your management screen. The System can then generate these items. Depending on the complexity of the item, occasional ‘curses’ can happen. It’s unlikely you’ll get cursed gold for example—very simple to reproduce basic minerals. But an enchanted blade? Yeah, it’s complicated.”

I frown, tapping my fingers. “There are ways of knowing what might or might not be cursed?”

“THE DUNGEON MANAGEMENT SCREEN PROVIDES DETAILED BREAKDOWN ON THE LEVEL OF SUBSUEMENT AND THE PROBABILITY OF CURSED ITEM PRODUCTION.”

Lana leans over, tapping on my screen. Obviously it doesn’t do anything until Ali wills it to, but he knows me well enough to let Lana play around with my views. In a second, the dungeon management screen blooms, expanding rapidly. The summarized information disappears as even more information appears. Everything gets more detailed, including data that was hidden before, like the number of visitors, the declared drop rate of various items, which items have been released, and the like. While Lana browses with Ali’s help, I’m doing my own investigation.

“As the dungeon owner, shouldn’t I have a proper map of it?” I grumble.

“CURRENT MAPPED INFORMATION IS PROVIDED BY YOUR DELVERS.”

“I know, but shouldn’t I get more details? I own the damn dungeon.”

“YOU ARE THE ADMINISTRATOR OF THE DUNGEON. THIS DOES NOT PROVIDE ACCESS TO THE DATA YOU ARE SEARCHING FOR BY DEFAULT. WE MAY PURCHASE SAID INFORMATION IN THE STORE.”

I groan. Freaking scam of a System.

“Boy-o, you need to realize that growing a dungeon is more akin to growing a forest than building a house. You throw down some seeds, water the plants with Mana, maybe prune or cut down a tree or two. But you don’t get much say in how the forest really grows.”

“That’s… insane,” I mutter. “It’s a freaking dungeon and I don’t get any real information on it?”

“Nope. And you shouldn’t be calling others insane. Your people used to capture predatory animals and make them pets,” Ali says, staring at the quiet, striped orange cat lounging in the corner.

“Yeah, but those people are crazy.”

“As are city owners,” Ali says. “Also, you’re forgetting the lure of greed. Mining a City Dungeon is a very, very good way of getting low-tier goods. It’s a stable source of income and attracts a ton of beginner adventurers since it’s a lot safer. In non-Dungeon Worlds, it also helps manage Mana buildup and keeps the zones around a city much lower. Here, it does the same. With, you know, less effect.”

I sigh, rubbing my head. Lana finally stops swinging the notification screens about and looks at me with a pensive expression.

“What?”

“Managing the dungeon’s similar to managing a business, just weird. There’s a ton of things in here, most of which could bear watching. Where the Mana is going, how much Mana should be going in, what rate the dungeon is growing at…” Lana shakes her head. “And we’ve not even gotten to that entire loot generation section. You need to find someone to manage this.”

“Great. I’ll add it to the task list,” I say sarcastically.

After a moment, I look over and see Katherine finish moving her fingers before offering me a knowing nod. Great. I guess I really do have a task list now. Next I’ll be getting a bell around my neck.

After that, Lana and I get back to talk about upgrades. She’s got her own ideas, from her time in Whitehorse as well as Kamloops, and isn’t shy about pushing for them. I can’t blame her, and unlike the councillors, she’s got an in to get her own views heard. After all, I’m not sleeping with any of the others.

Yay nepotism.

Chapter 3

Wandering the stacks of the library, I find myself running my finger along the spines of abandoned books later that evening. I’m waiting for Lana, who has gone for a “dinner” with Katherine, one that I was pointedly not invited to. So I’m wandering my domain, staring at tomes of knowledge that have been discarded, much like our prior civilization.

“You’re a morose bastard,” Ali says, floating beside me.

“Yup,” I agree absently before looking around.

Where am I? Biology? Rows and rows of books about the biological world that now matters not a whit. After all, the System has replaced and altered our bodies so significantly that I doubt even half of what is in these books matters now. Furthermore, for the low, low price of a few hundred Credits, all this painstaking knowledge could be bought and downloaded directly into our brains.

“What’s got you down now?”

“Just the futility of life,” I murmur, shaking my head. All the time, all the expertise denoted in these books, gone. A wave of the System, a snarling face, and poof. All gone.

“Uh huh,” Ali says, leaning back in mid-air as he floats beside me.

“Nothing futile about these books,” an older man says as he walks around the corner. Scraggly hair down to his collar, he’s dressed in a dress shirt and a pair of jeans, a pile of books waiting to be reshelved in his hands.

“Eric,” I greet the Librarian.

One of the first people to accost me once things had settled, he literally demanded to be allowed the run of the library again. As a former employee—admittedly from the Marpole branch—he was intent on collecting and returning all the books he could find. I’m not entirely sure if it’s a matter of Leveling or a complex, but rather than argue, I agreed to his request with some stipulations. No approaching my City Core for one.

“What is contained within might not be useful now, but knowledge, any knowledge, is precious. And while your System might provide fast and easy gains in knowledge, have you not noticed that the learning process itself has certain advantages?” Eric says as he shelves a book.

“Uhh…”

“Your training with Mikito?” Ali points out helpfully.

“Right…” The difference between knowing something and understanding it.

“What is contained here might be of use in the future as well. In fact, there are certain skills that may be gained and Titles for those who choose to proceed the hard way,” Eric says, looking at me. “It is why I strongly recommend that we re-open the library. And of course, begin the process of updating our inventory.”

I raise my hand, cutting off any further pitch. Eric’s lips thin, but he inclines his head in acknowledgement before walking away to continue his task. For a moment, I stare at his retreating back.

“He’s creepy.”

“Really? He doesn’t seem any stranger than most humans to me.”

Sometimes, I’m not entirely sure whether Ali is kidding or not when he says things like that. With a sigh, I continue to walk, shifting my thoughts to something more productive.

Maybe a half hour later, Lana finds me, Roland accompanying her while Howard and Shadow chase one another outside.

“John,” Lana greets me after kissing me, leaning backward to stare into my eyes. “What are you thinking about?”

“Government. Or a corporation. I’ve been thinking about how I’m the sole owner of these settlements and it’s not a good idea,” I say.

“And you don’t intend to relinquish control,” Lana states, knowing my reasons for keeping control.

“Exactly. So I need an organization of sorts that both keeps me in control when necessary but also allows people like Ken or the city council to run things and that is flexible enough to keep expanding,” I say. “And, of course, has a decent backup to ensure we don’t actually lose the city if I die.”

A flicker of something crosses Lana’s face. “Where were you thinking?”

“Closest thing I can think of is a constitutional monarchy of sorts. But that brings its own problems,” I say with a grimace.

“Lines of succession, intrigue, and backstabbing?”

“Exactly.”

Lana turns to the floating Spirit. “Ali, aren’t there more Galactic options?”

“Tons. But I’m not exactly an expert on this. The Erethrans use a stratocracy, with citizenship varying based on Levels and time served with the armed forces. Their Emperor is actually just the most powerful Erethran citizen who is then guarded by the Honor Guard. He and his family, along with their advisors, make up both the Erethrans’ reserves and their ruling body. Of course, the fact that the Emperor is able to buy Skills and equipment for his children and put them out for safe training tilts things in his favor, but it’s still technically a stratocracy.

“The Truinnar and the Xylarghs are both monarchies. The Truinnar use what you’d call a pure monarchy, with their Emperor ruling over all and having direct oaths of servitude from his subjects. He even has the Class. The Xylarghs are closer to a constitutional monarchy, with the monarchy and the Dragon Knights making up one bloc of power and the Artisans another. Democracy is a lot less common. The closest examples I can think of that you’d be familiar with are the Kapre. But they’re weird—while they don’t exactly have a hive mind, they’ve got an empathic mind backed by racial Skills in empathy.”

I grunt, recalling our conversations about the tree-like creatures that make up the Kapre. Talking and dealing with them always felt strange due to the long pauses and the feeling that you’re talking to more than one at a time. Which, in a way, you are.

“Well, we’re not interested in a democracy,” Lana says, eyes dancing with humor. “I doubt John wants to hear the ‘will of the people.’”

“People are stupid,” I grumble then amend my note. “But they should have a voice. Just not direct to me.”

“Well, if you’re keeping final say, you should probably be a monarchy of some sort,” Ali says.

“Nope. Not going to get called King John,” I say sternly. I can see Lana’s eyes dancing with humor as I state that. “Anyway, that’d make you the fool.”

“Yeah well, I’d pity the fool who called me one,” Ali says. “We could potentially call it a dictatorship of some form…”

I grunt in annoyance, drawing another shrug from Ali.

“Perhaps a corporation?” Lana says.

“Like a Guild?”

“Can’t be a Guild, remember? No land ownership.” Ali corrects me.

“I never did understand that. What’s the difference between a Sect and a Guild? And how do corporations fit in there?” I growl.

“Right…” Ali says. “Well, corporations can be Guilds and vice versa. A Guild is basically a co-operative of Adventurers. The main difference between a Guild or a Sect is that a Guild can’t hold land. Because they can’t hold land—specifically, they can’t hold settlements—they are allowed to have their Guild branches in numerous cities. Which gives them a significant amount of power.

“Sects, on the other hand, can’t—or well, generally don’t—hold land in cities they don’t control. If they do, that land is considered part of their territory. It’s why other groups won’t let them own land in their cities.”

“Part of their territory?” I say with a frown.

“Think of it like an embassy.” At my puzzled frown, Lana shakes her head. “Embassies are considered the land of their countries. So a Canadian embassy in Saudi Arabia is part of Canada and people within the embassy aren’t required to follow Saudi law.”

“Ah…” I exclaim, realizing what she means. I recall that movie. The one with Ben Affleck. It had something to do with that entire rule of law. I have to admit, I fell asleep while watching it.

“Sects also don’t let their people join Guilds, and their people have to renounce their ties with other kingdoms. Guilds, on the other hand, don’t care—so long as you serve the guild and do their work, you’re welcome to have diverging interests.”

“So how do corporations work in all this?’ I ask, figuring I’ve got a rough handle between Sects and Guilds.

“Corporations can’t be Sects, because Sects require oaths of loyalty. They’re more loosely formed, with stakeholders who own and sometimes run the organization and employees. They can own land too, but unlike Sects, whatever they purchase outside of settlements doesn’t come under their own laws. Like Guilds, they often have widespread interests, but unlike Guilds, they can own land. But… there’s a lot of unhappiness about them in the Galactic core. In fact, many corporations are barred from some of the largest empires and blocked entirely from owning land or operations in certain kingdoms.”

“So my options are a soulless corporation or being called King for the rest of my life,” I mutter. “Not acceptable.”

“I’m sure we can figure out something better. Now that we’ve got an idea what you’re looking for,” Lana says when she realizes I’m not really joking.

“Let’s.” I stare at Ali, who sighs and nods. Grateful to have given the Spirit a task he can deal with, I send him off while I turn to Lana. The redhead raises an eyebrow, and I shake my head. “No more work.”

She smiles and takes my hand, guiding me to walk along the stacks once again. For a few hours at least, I’m going to take a break. Especially considering what I’ve got on the agenda tomorrow morning.

Morning. Early morning. Even in the summer, the sun has barely risen as we stand at the foot of the mountain, staring at the rolling mist ahead of us. Wisps of it exit the barrier, its presence significantly denser a few feet ahead. It’s Lana, her pets, and me. Ingrid isn’t back from the US, Mikito is still in Kamloops, and this isn’t Sam’s scene. Mostly.

“Should we have invited Sam?” I mutter, staring at the foreboding mist. If mist can look treacherous and dangerous, this mist would definitely qualify.

“You barely invited me,” Lana says grumpily, a travel mug of coffee in her hands.

“Didn’t want to share the experience,” I say teasingly before sobering. “Truthfully, didn’t know you’d be here. And I figured I should know what the dungeon is like. Maybe even clear it before the delvers actually get it done.”

“What is it anyway?” Lana says, tilting her head as she stares inside.

“Yurks,” Ali says, grimacing. “Semi-sentient, reptilian-frog hybrid creatures in your parlance. They’re mildly humanoid.”

Lana frowns at the mist, which doesn’t seem to be intent on leaving. “Is the mist part of the dungeon?”

“Yes.”

Outside of the dungeon bounds, my minimap cuts out completely, giving me no further information. Frustrating. I turn my head, staring at the two roads that lead farther up the mountain and toward the university that stretches out ahead and to the right of us. Even without the mist, I wouldn’t expect to see much beyond the untamed forests and roads, but I could always hope.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Lana says before downing the last of her coffee and making the mug disappear.

Without an audible cue, the puppies spread out ahead of us, Roland joining the group while Anna stays by our side as we walk ahead.

The moment we enter the mists, we get a notification.

Dungeon Located!

You have entered a Level 50+ Dungeon.

Warning! The current dungeon has not been fully cleared. Successful completion of the dungeon by a System-registered individual will generate increased rewards.

As expected. It’s one of the reasons why it’s yet to be cleared by the delvers. None of the teams are at the point where they can comfortably deal with the problem. This might be a touch much for just the two of us as well—even if I over-Level it. Sort of. Never having had a Basic Class always makes these estimations tricky.

Once again, I note that the double experience reward, as well as the System limitation notification, is gone. Ever since the System fully integrated, we no longer get those, since the System can at least provide the basics of a warning about any dungeons we enter. Annoying, but at least the first clear bonus is still around.

Even if we can’t clear it today, I should be able to open a Portal and pop out. Maybe we can pull Mikito in the next time and deal with it then. But I have to admit, I’m kind of looking forward to the challenge today.

“Don’t forget, you have meetings this afternoon. So no going crazy in there,” Lana warns as we walk up the road.

The mist wraps around us, reducing visibility and muffling her voice. In answer, I grunt, my sword held idly. No point using a rifle if I can’t see what I’m shooting. Indicators on the helmet HUD show that the external atmosphere isn’t poisoned, so the mist itself is benign.

Ting

What the heck? I tilt my head to the side, catching a glimpse of something white falling as it deflects off my Soul Shield. Lana beats me to it, bending and picking up the needle-thin, plastic-looking item with purple liquid dripping from its tip.

As she begins to speak, she slaps a hand to her arm, growling in pain. “Poison!”

I flick my hand quickly, placing Soul Shield on Lana. For good measure, I add Two is One. Lana’s rubbing her hand now, eyes slightly unfocused.

“How bad?” I ask.

“Not too bad. It’s reducing my Mana regeneration a bit for the next few hours.”

Even as she speaks, another plink signifies another attack failing to penetrate. The attacks themselves are so weak they barely even move the health gauge of the Soul Shield. I debate throwing the rest of my buffs on us but decide against it. Better to keep my Mana for now.

“Attacks like these are stackable,” Ali says. Perhaps because he feels like taunting them, he’s fully visible, their shots passing through his body.

“Still nothing on the minimap?” I debate throwing a Blade Strike along the line of where the attacks originate. I hold back for the moment since striking out randomly isn’t likely to do anything but damage fauna. Though if we don’t get results soon, I might just use an area effect attack and see if I get lucky.

“The boys are on it,” Lana says softly, her shotgun held casually now.

A moment later, I see a notification pop up that I’ve gained a small smattering of experience. “Who was that?”

“Roland. And that’s Shadow.” As she speaks, another notification flashes, the experience gain the only information clue that anything is happening. “Howard’s having a little harder time.” Lana shakes her head. “Might call him back actually. He doesn’t have the other two’s advantages. In fact…”

A few minutes later, Howard trots out of the undergrowth, a limp corpse held in his mouth. The creature he deposits at our feet is, as advertised, a green, reptilian-frog hybrid on two floppy feet wearing a leather sash from which a series of needles hang. In addition, a small bottle swings on a string from the belt, unstoppered and slowly dripping out its poisonous contents.

“Good boy.” Lana rubs the puppy’s giant head as the husky shifts to stand guard over us. A low growl is drawn from it a second later when a fast-moving projectile strikes its paw. “John…?”

“On it.” I cast the Soul Shield over the puppy and make a mental note to refresh the protection when it runs out. That’s a significant negative I’ve noticed—in higher Mana zones like a dungeon, the Skill drains away faster. Once that’s cast, I eye the body.

Yurk Scout (Level 20)

HP: 0/224

MP: 0/130

Condition: Dead

“Scouts?” I frown. The attack didn’t seem to do much damage to either Howard or Lana. Harassing and annoying, but not dangerous.

“Probably meant to wear you down,” Ali says. “The scouts will poison you, reduce your regeneration now. When you’re in the thick of it, you’ll find the Mana regeneration debuff a crucial issue.”

“Ah…” I nod. One of those dungeons.

We keep walking, letting Lana’s pets deal with the Scouts. Since they can’t really hurt us through the Soul Shield, it’s good experience for her. That being said, I keep an eye out. This is the first trip through.

“Think they’re edible?” Lana says, eyeing a fleeing Yurk Warrior and the burnt corpses strewn around us.

Once we actually enter the campus grounds, we are met by a group of Yurk Warriors. A large group of them, each Level 30 plus. Unfortunately for them, they decide to group up. The moment my Fireball impacts, Lana throws on her Aura of the Red Queen, forcing them to run.

“Maybe. Probably tastes like fishy chicken,” I say.

Lana tilts her head toward me.

“I’m Chinese. My dad introduced me to some different culinary experiences,” I say. “Frog legs are okay. Taste like slightly slimy chicken.”

“Oh. Wow…” Lana says, staring at the corpses around us.

It’s weird eating sentients. Or semi-sentients. Not something we’ve done much of even with the System. On the other hand, they do smell kind of nice.

“Go ahead. I won’t tell,” I say.

She flashes me a look but still steps forward. A few seconds later, she’s wiping her fingers on her one-piece. “You’re right.”

A quick wave of my hand pulls the bodies into my Altered Space, dumping them away for later sale. A part of me wonders how casually eating the meat of our fallen enemies is even a thing. How callous could we have gotten? Considering how sharp their teeth are, I’m pretty sure that’s what they were going to do to us though.

“You never told me how you learnt to cook.”

“Oh? Not much of a story to tell,” I say, sweeping my gaze around the buildings again.

Taking the right roadway, we swing into what used to be the International College building, a stand-alone faculty that is a short distance from the main campus. The red brick building with grey concrete appears and disappears as the mist obscures our vision. I nod toward the entrance, and we saunter over and stop at the opaque entrance.

“Grenades?” I ask.

“Just one.”

A minute of hard work later, we’re walking down the next hallway, slightly charred and with refreshed Soul Shields.

“You know I grew up without my mom, right? Well, my dad wasn’t much for cooking. So I had to learn to do it myself. After I grew tired of instant noodles—and a few complaints from my dad—I started watching cooking shows.”

“Cooking shows?”

“Ramsay, Iron Chef, Ray, some road shows too,” I say, shrugging. “Picked up a few tips here and there while watching and read a few books. It was just one of those things I had to learn, and later on, I found it comforting. Something I could control.”

Before Lana can continue the conversation, I hold up my hand. My map is showing that each of the classrooms ahead of us is filled, and this time, it looks as though we’ll have to get serious. Howard hunkers down while Anna burns more brightly. Roland slides into place next to the first door, waiting quietly in gathered shadows.

“Ali?” I frown, staring at the semi-circular series of dots ahead of us. It looks almost like a trap…

“Can’t go through,” Ali says, floating up to tap the walls. “They’re Mana-imbued to prevent me from floating in. I’d have to go through an open door.”

“Grenades?” Lana says, turning her hand over to show me a concussion grenade. Less damage, more shock and distraction. Not a bad choice.

“On three,” I say, moving to the other side of the door.

We stack up on the door in an amateur approximation of good tactics. When I push the door open, Lana tosses the grenade inside and I shut the door again, getting only the barest glimpse of the Yurks all curled up behind solid barriers. An arrow bounces off my shield even as I close the door. The light rumble from the explosion comes a second later.

Flinging the door open, I Blink Step slightly behind one of the barriers, appearing a few feet in the air even as Roland bounces in, unleashing a loud roar as he jumps over the blockade on the opposite side of the room. Anna and Howard rush in a few seconds later while Lana and Shadow keep an eye on the hallway. Even as I land and spin, my swords in both hands, I only catch one across its chest as the Yurks scramble away.

Yurk Elite Warriors (Level 40)

HP: 378/413

MP: 188/201

Conditions: Mild Stun

Mildly stunned or not, the damn Yurk is still moving. Nine Yurks, scattered around the room, are taking us on. None of my AOEs will work—the classroom too small for their attacks. My only other spell is Mana Dart which, while great for Mana conservation, isn’t powerful enough to do real damage. That pretty much leaves my Skills and Freezing Blade.

Considering their health, I ignore using my spell for now and just get on with the killing. They might be fast and skilled, but they’re smaller than me and in a retreat. I catch up with one of them fast. Behind me, I feel the impact of blades against the Soul Shield as his friends rally. Dismissing a sword, I block the Yurk’s cut and grab my target by the neck to spin and throw the smaller Yurk at his friends. Legs and hands flopping in the air, the Yurk bowls over his friends, tangling the group up long enough for me to send in a pair of Blade Strikes. A second later, I’m rushing over to the next in line, intent on finishing up my group.

Lana steps into the room while I deal with the trio on my side, sending a widespread blast of pellets to finish them off before she twists to attack Roland’s and Howard’s targets. Anna has one of the Yurks on the ground, her jaw closed around its shoulder as her flames lick across its body while it thrashes around in pain. Howard’s worrying and backing off another two.

I block a Cleave from one of the Yurks, pushed back a little by the sudden attack. Even as the Yurk tries to entangle my sword, its friend creeps around its side, ready to plunge a blade into me. Stepping sideways at the same time as I dismiss my blade, I use the momentum to complete a spinning back kick, sending the flanking frog into a nearby wall. As I land and recover, I slap the initial attacker’s glowing blade aside with my hand, my Soul Shield glowing as the sabre leaves a light line of red along my arm. Recalling my sword, I plunge it into the Yurk’s body before bull-rushing the Yurk attempting to pull itself out of the wall.

With the added firepower from the redhead, the battle comes to a close soon enough. Battle over, I dismiss the blade and grimace as the blood on it, no longer having a place to grip, falls, splattering over my hand. Thankfully the Soul Shield actually protects me, allowing me to shake my hand clear of the gunk. While I’m doing so, Ali is looting and storing the corpses. After a second, I refresh the Soul Shields on myself and Lana, surprised by how low the shields has gotten. Even now, I can see the injuries on the pets slowly healing, the minor scrapes and cuts sewing back together as the puppies lick their wounds.

“Nine Level 40s. Not bad, but nothing surprising,” I say.

“Eleven,” Ali says, pointing at the additions.

“Eleven…?” I frown, staring.

He’s right. There were nine on the minimap, but in the heat of the battle, I hadn’t realized there were two adds. I stare at the additions, noting the slightly different equipment loadout and information screen.

Yurk Rogues (Level 36)

HP: 0/274

MP: 0/347

Condition: Dead

“Bastard snuck up on me,” Lana says, kicking one body.

“You know, if they’re frogs, they lay eggs in groups. So, not sure if they actually have a family structure like ours,” I say, shrugging. “Never mind the fact that they’re aliens.”

“It’s just a saying,” Lana says.

I cock my head to the side, curious to see if Ali has any information.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not interested in learning about the mating habits of Yurks. Or, you know, any of you meaties.”

“Meaties?”

“Trying out a new descriptor.”

“Don’t.”

Ali sniffs, floating into the hallway as we gather at the door to the next classroom. We stack up again, ready to repeat the process. Interesting that they don’t come out. I debate if it’s a matter of tactics, stupidity, or just the dungeon and then give up. Not my problem if they want to make this easy.

“Well, that was anticlimatic,” I mutter to Lana an hour later.

We swept through the building without a problem, the small battles not an issue for the pair of us. Frankly, by myself, I out-Leveled our attackers. With Lana’s pets harrying and dealing with the others, it was a simple matter to clear each room.

“Getting cocky, aren’t you?” Lana says.

“Actually, I’m thinking there should be more to this,” I say, waving us forward and up the hill once again. We’ll reach the main campus soon, which is where the roads and dungeon square should show up.

“We’re nearly out of time, boy-o,” Ali reminds me.

“I know. I just want to see the square. We can pop right in there next time,” I say as we continue to walk forward.

Occasionally, the plink of an attack reminds me that the damn scouts are still out there. That, and the strangled yelps or a sudden crunch as Roland and Shadow get to work on our flanks.

“I should bring the boys up here more often,” Lana says with a slight smile. “They seem to be having fun.”

“I can tell.” Rather than spend more time exploring the outer layer of buildings, I swing us toward to the main parking lot and the campus’s town square.

We’re just passing another grey, boring building on our left, the parking lot on our right, when we hear a slow, thudding drum beat.

“Boy-o…” Ali says, frowning.

In front of us, slowly appearing on the map and disappearing as the mists continue to envelop us, is a large cluster of monsters. There’s nearly a hundred or so, many in the Level 30s or higher.

“I think they were delaying us,” Lana says softly, eyes wide as she stares at the shared minimap.

Glimpsed through the mists, the front ranks are slowly marching forward, shields held in front of them.

“Yeah…” I stare at my Mana pool and sigh, popping a bottle of Mana restoration and swigging it down. Between that and my regeneration, I’m back up to two-thirds full, which should do. “I want to try something, then we can go.”

Lana nods, face grim as she engages her aura once more. It bursts forth, making the front group stagger before they seem revitalized by the continued drumming.

I step forward, crouching and whisper the command. “Army of One.”

Around me, six identical copies of my sword pop into existence, tripling the total number that I get from Thousand Blades. I grunt, swinging my hand down, and the blades shoot forward rather than projecting a strike like Blade Strike. The glowing red-and-blue blades strike the front ranks, boring through the monsters and continuing onward, shattering their careful formation.

“Nice,” Lana says as she unloads her shotgun into the group.

Anna helps, flames stretching from her body to run across the group like long tendrils. But for all that, for how impressive it looks, the Yurks stagger back up to their feet and reform their lines.

I sigh. I guess I know where I’m putting more Class Skill points next time. I need more blades and more damage. While the damage will get better as I grow in strength and my blade does as well, the number of blades is a matter of another Skill.

Once they’ve reset the line, harried by Anna’s and Lana’s attacks, the group continues their slow and steady march. A low growl from Howard behind us alerts us to the troops that have flanked us, pinning us in place and forcing both Shadow and Roland out of hiding.

“John…” Lana’s voice grows concerned as the group gets within thirty meters.

A shift in their positioning shows that they’re ready to charge. My wordless answer is to pop open the Portal, and the puppies and Roland dart in without a word. Lana and Anna follow even as arrows and spears fly, raining down around us. I follow her through the Portal.

“Well, that was disappointing,” I say, grabbing one of the spears flying through the fast-closing Portal before it pins Anna.

“Disappointing?” Lana says.

“My Skill,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s really reliant on my other Skills and I just don’t have the points for it all. I’m going to need to put more points into it for it to get useful.”

A cough drags our attention back to Katherine, who has stood up from behind my desk to extract a few arrows and spears that have embedded themselves on it and around the walls. “Perhaps another location would be better for you to teleport to whilst in combat?”

“Sorry!” I say, watching as the prim and proper woman stacks the weapons aside.

“You know she’s going to make you pay for that, right?” Lana whispers to me.

“Nah, she wouldn’t do that,” I say, confident in Katherine’s professionalism. I purposely ignore Lana’s and Ali’s looks, content to bask in my naiveté. Though if you know you’re fooling yourself, is it really naiveté? “So what’s on the agenda?”

Lana waves goodbye, off to deal with her own chores. Behind her desk, Katherine pulls up her status screens and rattles off the agenda for the day. More meetings of course. It’s always more meetings.

“The Adventurer Guilds are here,” Katherine announces with slight disapproval as I lounge in my chair.

Since there’s no paperwork, I’ve pulled my chair out from behind the desk. I’m in a nice, comfortable lounge chair taken from below, rather than the uncomfortable office chairs that used to fill this corner office. Katherine, for reasons of her own, is behind a desk.

“Send them in.”

A few minutes later, a tall humanoid elf walks in, a smile on his lips. Tall, blond, and pretty, he could have walked off the set of a Lord of the Rings movie if it weren’t for the futuristic sci-fi jumpsuit and beam rifle slung over his shoulder. I stand, offering a hand and shaking his before I flop back down in my chair, gesturing for him to choose his poison. After glancing at the options—office chairs, another lounger, and the couch—he takes an office chair and rolls it over to me. I note how he dismisses Katherine’s presence almost immediately, his focus on me.

Mental Effect Resisted

“I’m John Lee.”

“Kryl a Sharra. I’m the Guild liaison of the Burning Leaves, a Tier II Guilds,” Kryl says.

I’m a bit impressed by the fact that he’s from a Tier II Guild—those represent deep pockets, according to Ali, with Guild Halls in over five hundred settled worlds and a deep roster of dedicated Adventurers. Among other things, Guilds have to meet a certain number of Galactic Council quests and hit certain taxation numbers to qualify for each level. All things considered, there’s just over a hundred Tier II Guilds in the entire Galactic System.

Kryl a Sharra (Level 18 Fell Ranger)

HP: 740/740

MP: 485/520

Conditions: Aura of Command

I don’t mention the Aura or the fact that he’s still using it. A glance at Katherine shows that her conditions still list as none, a rather surprising matter. Then again, I don’t know what kind of Skills she has, but being an Assistant who can be easily swayed probably wouldn’t be great. Something worth noting at least.

“What can I do for you, Kryl?”

“The Movana designate their Nobles by adding an a in between their names. So Kryl should, if you were feeling polite, be called a Sharra.”

A flash of annoyance shows on Kryl’s face before he stamps it out. “We would like to know when our application for a Guild Hall in your settlements would be approved.”

“You’ve got applications for places outside of Kamloops?” I say with a frown.

“Yes. They were added a few days ago,” Kryl says smoothly.

“Huh.” I consider what else to say then make the decision. “Get out.”

“What?” Kryl exclaims, eyes widening.

“Get. Out. You’re not welcome in this office anymore. If your Guild wants to continue talking, they can send someone else.”

Kryl narrows his eyes in thought then nods before walking out in silence. Rude and manipulative as he might be, at least he’s smart enough to realize what he did wrong. Using his aura to attempt to manipulate the negotiation and force us to take his Guild is idiotic. Sure, it might work with some, but that’s no way to build a lasting relationship. When he walks out, Katherine lets out a little snort that I assume to be one of approval. Ass.

“Next.”

“Brommax’s Raiders are a Tier III Guild. We’ll be able to not only provide a wider market for your goods through our Guild Shops, but we also have a deep bench of Adventurers to fulfill any of your requests and we are willing—and able—to staff all three of your settlements,” the big yellow Yerrick says. I forget his name, having seen so many for now. I could look, but that’s what Katherine’s for.

“Raiders?”

“It’s a translation imprecision.”

“He’s telling the truth. An English translation thing. Maybe those US Rangers might be a better translation.”

“I’m really only interested in discussing one town at a time,” I say. “Kelowna in particular.”

“Of course. We’re willing to negotiate on the monthly Credit fee, as well as any additional settlement security requirements you might have.”

“Keep talking,” I say, leaning forward. Finally. The Yerrick is the third in line, and the first I’m actually interested in.

“I represent the Platinum Pixies, a Tier IV Guild. Our Guild might not be the biggest, but we punch above our weight class,” the pixie says, hovering in front of me with a grin.

“You guys allow non-pixies in?”

An uncomfortable silence later, I watch her tiny form flit out.

“Crystal Clans isn’t your typical Guild. We’re a Tier III Guild, but we’re more focused on Artisan work. Our people are looking for stable and plentiful sources of materials, which is why a Guild Hall in a Dungeon World is perfect for us,” the dwarf states, offering me a grin and launching into his spiel the moment he sits down.

“Sounds like a lot of great things for you—”

“What? A stable market that buys at a higher price than the Shop doesn’t sound good to you? How about Advanced and Master Artisans who can guide some of your people? We can work in class schedules.”

“That’s nice, but we’re a bit worried about our security…” I say leadingly.

“We aren’t all Artisans. A significant minority are fighters—we do need guards for some of our rarer materials. And a number of Adventurers see the advantage of having access to Master Level Artisans,” Wrox says, beard waggling. “We’ll have a number of those people in your towns.”

“And a security agreement?”

“Can be negotiated.”

“Good. Now, about the rent…”

“No.”

“But with the number of fallen in the transition, we will be able to raise—”

“No.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Get out. Before I throw you out.”

“Simpletons.”

I watch the multi-legged heptadon walk out of the room, almost flouncing out. A hand held out to Katherine puts guests on hold while I keep my breathing deep and steady to get my temper back in control. Asshole necromancers.

“Labashi.” I blink, standing and shaking the Hakarta’s hand.

He’s still as big, green-grey, and tusky as ever. However, I’m surprised to see him here in Vancouver. Last I knew, he was up in Whitehorse, finishing his initial contract with the Duchess.

“Redeemer.” He inclines his head and sits down. A hand comes up, offering me a small, red-wrapped piece of heaven. “Chocolate?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” I say, grabbing the chocolate and popping the piece in my mouth. I blink when the chocolate melts in my mouth on contact, the liquid delight a surprise. Even as I sit, quietly enjoying the expensive treat, Labashi offers a piece to Katherine while introducing himself. “Good chocolate.”

“Yes,” Labashi says, leaning forward. “A great export.”

My mind shifts for a second to Adventurers fighting through hordes of monsters, risking life and limb, only to loot their corpses and exclaim in delight at finding a Toblerone. I chuckle, making Labashi stare at me with concern.

I wave away his questioning look, continuing. “What are you doing here, Major?”

“Visiting an ally. And pitching my Corp as an option.”

“You can do that?”

“It is not the most common use of that building slot, but is possible,” Labashi says.

“MERCENARY CORPS ARE UNDER THE SAME CLASSIFICATION AS ADVENTURERS GUILDS. AS SUCH, A SINGLE COMPANY MAY BE ADDED TO ANY SINGLE TOWN.”

“What else is covered under that classification?” I send the thought to Kim and Ali, grumpy about missing another thing. Between a lack of interest on my part and the sheer volume of information, I’m missing a lot about running a settlement.

“Assassin’s Guilds and Thief Circles fall under the same categories. Also Spy centers, but you need to build up the requirements internally.”

I sit in silence for a moment, listening to my companions while Labashi enjoys his tea. When my eyes refocus, Labashi shifts his attention back to me fully.

“Why a merc group?”

“We prefer mercenary corp,” Labashi says easily. “Most Adventuring Guilds will promise protection, but they’re not good at it. That’s what we do. We can provide a higher number of individuals with better Classes and training. While we might not provide the same level of business contacts or a Guild Shop, we can provide training. For our needs, we’ll also need a much larger base of operations, which will aid you in developing to the next level of Small City. And lastly, we’re willing to pay a much higher base rental than any Guild.”

He’s not wrong. One of the requirements, over and above the basic population requirements, of a Small City is a 98% land ownership requirement. Except it isn’t just any land ownership; it designated the amount of physical land too, so you couldn’t just shrink your settlement down to beat the System.

Still, I frown, drumming my fingers on my legs. “Why do you need a location?”

“Because we have none yet. A Headquarters building will allow us to set up long-range teleportation arrays and cheaper housing for our people. We expect to have significant work on your world. Having a permanent base will keep our overall cost down and allow for further training opportunities. That you have a City Dungeon is already a significant bonus,” Labashi says.

I’m a bit surprised he’s laying all his cards out like that, which makes me slightly suspicious about what he’s hiding.

“Why not further north with the Duchess and her people?” I ask, frowning. After all, Roxley probably wouldn’t mind their presence. And while the Truinnar might be willing to help us out, I know he wouldn’t do it by harming his interest—or his mistress’s.

“All her current allocations are earmarked for others. Our Contract includes a headquarters, but only at a later date. We prefer to have one sooner,” Labashi says.

Right. So that means he’d be willing to pay more, but not outrageously. Thus, while the deal might be good, it won’t be great.

“All right, let’s talk details. Call me tentatively interested,” I say, leaning forward. Best to hear what he has to say. Maybe I can garner a little more information that way. And I have to admit, a company of Hakarta in town could provide some really outstanding protection.

“That all of them?” I say, watching the swaying form of the duck-like creature walk out.

Weird. So weird. Think Howard the Duck crossed with a cross-dresser. I have to admit, for most of the meeting, I was battling my sense of incredulity.

“Yes. For today,” Katherine answers.

“Huh.” I tilt my head toward the exit. “You know, no one’s barged in since you started. And everyone seems to know when to come in, even if we end up chatting a bit.”

“Ah, a simple matter with a Skill of mine.”

When she refuses to elaborate, even after a long silence, I push ahead. “You said for today.”

“Yes. A few more requests have come in since the schedule was created. I plan to have another bloc of such meetings in a few days. At which point, I believe, we should have a clear idea of who and what might be offered,” Katherine elaborates.

“Nice.” I sigh and lean back. Good. I don’t have to make a damn decision just yet. Even if I know that I can’t push things off too long.

Chapter 4

Early morning drives on the West Coast are always beautiful, even if it’s on forest-lined, battered highways leading to industrial wastelands. Fighting back a yawn—drawn forth from boredom more than physical cues—I swing Sabre around the mangled corpse of a deer on my way to the meeting.

Weeks after we’ve taken the cities, things have finally begun to settle down. I’m still hesitating on approving any single Adventuring Guild, even the ones who have dropped by a few times to press their cases. Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure who or how to set up the deal, so I’m procrastinating till a better idea comes along. Luckily, I’ve got Peter, one of my new city managers, researching previous deals made both on Earth and other worlds. It’s as good an excuse as any for delaying.

Katherine’s recommendation to build out the bureaucracy to run the cities has developed quite well. Kamloops and Kelowna have shaken themselves out pretty fast—an advantage of their tiny populations. There have been few arguments involved, and if anyone does want to bitch about management, they only need to walk down the street. It makes me think about life in small towns and villages, before the industrialization of the world. It makes me think of Whitehorse too, if less political. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not yearning for a time before proper plumbing and professional entertainment, but there’s something to be said about being able to punch in the face the asshole who raised your taxes. Or having your neighbor lend you a gun because it’s the right thing to do.

“How much farther?” I ask Ali, mostly rhetorically.

“Uhhh…” Ali blinks, turning his head to the side.

I look up and blink. “And why are you wearing a turban and a robe?”

“Seriously?” Ali glares at me, the white robe floating around his feet as he sits. “You know better, boy-o.”

“Fine. I know it’s not a turban—that’s for Sikhs. I just don’t know the term, at least for men,” I point out.

“If it’s white, it’s called a keffiyeh and thawb.” A shit-eating grin splits his darkly tanned face. “And I figure we’re meeting Americans, right? Might as well play to their delusions.”

I sigh and shake my head. I guess he’s going to make himself known then. A part of me considers ordering the Spirit to stay hidden so he can be another card up my sleeve. I recall doing that when I first entered Whitehorse, scared of what I’d find. But considering what we’re about to do, I have a feeling that hiding him could be futile and potentially lead to accusations of deception.

“We’re trying for a peaceful, productive meeting,” I say without much hope in my tone. Still, a man has to try.

“This better?”

After I pick myself and Sabre off the asphalt and brush down my now-dirty armored jumpsuit, I resolutely refuse to look at the Spirit while speaking to him. “Why are you wearing a Borat swimsuit?”

“What? Everyone loves that movie.”

“Your definition of everyone needs readjusting. And I repeat, we want a peaceful, productive meeting. So for all our sakes, control yourself. Or else I’ll banish you,” I say.

Ali sniffs, and I risk a quick glance out of the corner of my eyes to see him in a simple black shirt and blue jeans. I exhale softly, catching the grin on Ali’s face, and I realize the ass was messing with me. Still, it worked. I’m a lot less tense.

As we roll along the 5 into the outskirts of Everett, I eye my surroundings with a little more care. All I really know of this satellite town is that it’s mostly industrial buildings and bikini-barista coffee shacks. As I drive past one such shack, tucked in the corner of a gas station, I’m surprised to see movement within. A moment later, I realize it’s an evolved cat, not a human. I’m a bit disappointed. Those bikini-barista girls are weird, a strange intersection of the West Coast caffeine obsession and male lust. I blink after a moment—Ali’s most recent game crossed my mind as it free-associated around bikinis.

“What did you say?” Ali asks, cocking his head in my direction.

“Kittens. Cute, fluffy kittens,” I remind myself aloud, trying to bleach my brain.

Thankfully, we’re going to be meeting outside downtown Everett at Spencer Island Park. It’s not anyone’s choice location, too far out of Seattle proper for the groups based in the city, not inside Everett itself or any other satellite town for the suburb groups. No one’s happy, which makes it the perfect meeting spot.

Ali fills in my minimap long before I arrive at the meeting space, showcasing the wide variety of Classes and individuals awaiting me. There are Scouts, Hunters, Sneaks, and Rogues galore on the outside, keeping away the monsters that might disturb the meeting. And within, we’ve got an even wider variety of Classes—but as always, almost all of them are Combat Classers. Damn it.

When I glide into the parking lot on Sabre, I attract some attention. When they realize I’m alone, I attract even more. And by the time I take my place off to the side, without joining any of the other groups, everyone is looking at me. Tapping the side of my helmet, I let it slide down to let everyone see me properly while I regard the groups.

In one corner is a group predominantly made up of Mages of one form or another, all Advanced Classes, all of them within five Levels of each other, most leaning toward an Asian / South-Asian mix. They’ve got specializations from Ice Elementalists to Conjurers to Metamagician and more. Almost all of them have decent Constitutions, but few seem to have put anything into Strength or Agility. In addition to the Mages, I spot a couple of what must be tanks, one of them still in his security guard uniform. A single girl stands out in the crowd of men, alone. At a guess, those would be the programmers from Microsoft.

In another corner are the Sons of Odin, who are shooting dismissive and angry looks at me and the Mage group. No surprise in their makeup, though there’s a few more women among the long-haired, biker-styled idiots than I’d expect. Lots of yellow hair there, some obviously bottle blond. I check out their Levels and their Classes, noting a decent mix that leans toward melee fighting with a wider range than the Mages. Their leader is obvious, a tattooed monster of a man, nearly seven feet tall with a ponytail and biker leathers, a monster of a pistol strapped to his leg. Quick verification from Ali shows that it’s likely enchanted leather, offering more than just aesthetic appeal.

Sweeping my eyes along, I assess the other groups. A multi-national group leaning toward Latinos in one corner. An all-female group in another. A couple of groups almost exclusively made of African Americans. Another pair that I could swear is made up of the criminal elements. The baristas—one of the few non-Combatant groups here—have their own corner with a table laid out, doing brisk business selling cups of joe and bottles of their pre-made coffee.

My gaze is drawn to the large group of individuals in military uniform. Or are those army fatigues? My enhanced memory absently points out that a uniform is just a mode of dress and fatigues are just combat uniform. Or at least, that’s what those books alluded to. When my eyes lock on the group, my stare is met by a gentleman in his late forties. Flanking him is a group that is obviously his security detail and the person I assume is his aide. I’m sure the things on their uniforms have something interesting to say, but I don’t read military. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to those rank insignias in those first-person shooters I used to play. That is, if fictional space marine insignia translates to the real world.

“Coffee?” A soft whisper of a voice to my left almost makes me jump. Even if I knew she was going to try it, Ingrid almost has me levitating off the ground.

“Sure,” I keep my tone cool as I take the cup. Even the faintest whiff is enough to make me salivate. The taste itself is incredible—perfectly mellow, with strong hints of cinnamon and an aftertaste that disappears before I sip again. I’ve finished half the cup before I realize it. “Damn…”

Superior Cold Coffee Ingested

+8% to Regeneration Rates

Duration: 1 hour

“Told you,” Ingrid says with a smirk. “So where’s everyone else?”

“They’ll be here.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Well, don’t screw it up. It took me quite a bit to get everyone to show up.”

“You did good,” I say. A glance at the clock in the upper right tells me we’ve got another five minutes before we’re supposed to start.

“Let’s get this started,” the blond biker says, stomping forward. I mentally tag him as BB—a childish toy wanting to be grown up. “We’re wasting time and kills here.”

A glance around shows that while he might be impatient, no one seems to be gainsaying his words. Grunting, I walk forward, a slight queasiness in my stomach that I push aside. Public speaking was never my forte, but after all I’ve gone through, that fear is easy enough to deal with.

“Afternoon. Thank you all for coming,” I say. Blondie shifts in impatience, but I ignore him as I let my gaze wander around. “My name is John Lee. I’m the current owner of Vancouver and the settlements around it. Since you guys are our closest neighbors, I figured it’s time for us to meet and talk. Especially before the Sect returns.”

“Sect?” a voice calls from one of the groups.

“The aliens,” BB replies. “Invading our territory, claiming it for their own.”

“Are they expected to return? Your friend indicated that they had retreated from their holdings in Vancouver,” the soldier says. Well, Officer, to be exact for his Class.

For now, I ignore their names since I can fix their characteristics in my mind easier this way. Also, I hate remembering names and I have more important things to deal with. “Not soon. We’ve done enough damage to them here that they’re going to consolidate before they come back. But they’ll be back. If not them, someone else.”

The Officer inclines his head slightly, accepting my words. Murmurs rise as others talk.

One of the Mages steps forward. Purple hair, a Blue Mage, whatever that is. “So what do you want? You didn’t call this meeting to just say hi.”

“Yeah, what do you want, eh?” BB mocks.

“No. I didn’t,” I say, replying to the Blue Mage and ignoring BB. “How much do you people know of the world around us? Of the state of your nation and the world?” I ask rhetorically. “We’re lucky here, mostly. We’ve got our cities back under human control. There are other cities, other countries where humans are desperately fighting for any space they can find. There are a lot of places where humans are what the Sect would have us be—Serfs and servants, landless peasants without a say.” I pause before I take my next gamble. “If you’ll allow me, there’s someone I think you should all hear from.”

“Someone…?”

There’re more than a few looks around me, obviously not seeing anyone. But more than a few nod and a few shrug, figuring I’ve got whoever I want farther out. Which means when the glowing black and gold Portal opens up, there are a few exclamations of shock.

“That’s sweet.”

“Nice. Dimension Door?”

“Long-range teleport,” his friend mutters.

The Mages whisper among themselves.

“A Skill,” I answer everyone.

Lana comes out first, followed soon after by her pets. The animals get a few looks but no exclamations since they’re obviously under control. That, and the seven-foot-tall brute of a minotaur clad in modern combat armor draws all the attention, such that Mikito is barely even seen.

“Monster!”

A targeted beam attack splashes against Capstan’s portable shield. The Yerrick growls as he drops a hand to his combat axe. Lana steps forward quickly, blocking the attacks as best she can while I throw a Soul Shield on her and the pets spread out, letting out low growls. Another second and a twist of my hand has me layering a Soul Shield on top of Ulrick as well.

“Stop that!” I snap.

“He’s a monster. A… bull-thing!” The first attacker still has his beam rifle pointed at Ulrick, though he’s not shooting. His friends have all pulled weapons as well, ready to attack the Yerrick.

“Minotaur,” one of the Mages mutters pedantically.

“I’d drop that,” Ingrid says, whispering into the attacker’s ear. A knife is at his throat, the young First Nations woman magically appearing next to the man.

A part of me wonders when she disappeared, but I dismiss that question for more important things. Like the rising tension as BB pulls and points his pistol at her head.

“Chill it,” I snarl.

“Calm,” Lana states, the Aura of the Red Queen flaring again. Her hair seems to darken, becoming a blood red that is not entirely natural. Those violet eyes shift to a brilliant purple as her skin becomes fairer and closer to marble. More, a palpable sense of danger comes from her now.

The attacking group, bearing the brunt of her attention, whitens, a few stepping backward and lowering their guns, others clenching their fists.

“So. Hot,” a hipster kid manning the barista bar, the same one who exclaimed how “sweet” my portal was, says, his tongue almost hanging out. Probably not the effect Lana’s Aura was meant for.

“Charisma effect. Not always going to work the way you think it will,” Ali mentions. “But I got to agree, damn but the lady’s quite edible.”

“I hope this isn’t how you mean to treat us. Threats are not the basis of a good working relationship,” the Officer says, his legs spread as he stands at ease, hands behind his back. Still, I can see the slight tightness around his eyes, the tension in his shoulders as he wills himself to ignore Lana’s aura.

BB keeps his gun pointed at Ingrid, fingers white around the pistol hilt.

“Capstan Ulrick is our friend and a guest. Attacking him is an attack on us,” I say firmly. “But we’re willing to set the violence aside and talk if everyone else is.”

“Fuck that. I ain’t listening to no alien,” snarls BB.

“Then leave,” I say.

“You…” BB growls, shifting his gaze and pistol to point at me.

I ignore his provocations, watching as the others edge away from fighting. Repressed by Lana’s aura and without additional violence or any hostile action by Capstan, the initial impetus fades. Lana, sensing the mood change, drops her Aura. Yet the pets don’t move from their positions around the Yerrick.

It’s then, and only then, that I dismiss the Portal. My Mana is nearly half gone, between all the casting and Skill usage, but there’s more than enough to get us out of here again. The way the Officer is eyeing me and the location where the Portal is, I can see his mind churning.

Until Capstan speaks. “My name is Capstan Ulrick, First Fist of my tribe. The Redeemer has requested that I speak of my people’s history to you, to explain a little of what you must understand. The dangers that lie ahead.” Capstan’s eyes sweep over the group. “The Yerrick are a displaced people. Our home world was integrated into the System without warning, like yours. Unlike you, we integrated into the greater Galactic System as one of their many worlds. What we did not understand was the meaning of this. We did not understand that a settlement, once sold, cannot be rebought. That land, once taken by the larger groups, could never be retrieved. Not without war.

“We were lied to, tricked, and threatened. We lost our lands, our settlements, and eventually, our world. Now the Yerrick serve under others. My people are scattered through the Galaxy as they attempt to earn enough Credits to survive.”

“Boo hoo hoo. One set of aliens taking advantage of another,” one of the Sons of Odin interjects.

Capstan stares at the interrupter, the look he gives him priceless—it’s the kind of look you give a particularly hairy bug and you’re trying to decide if killing it or smacking it away is the better choice. Once the Son of Odin quiets down, Capstan speaks in detail. For the next hour, he talks. At first explaining the process and their history, later diverting to specific questions.

I keep quiet, listening with half my attention. I know most of this already, having spoken with him before. But the information is a revelation to most others.

So much of it is familiar though—to anyone who studies history anyway. Find a few groups that are at odds, pit them against each other while you pay pennies on the dollar for goods—land—that you want while selling your goods at a huge markup. Control the information, control access to the Shops, bring in secondary or tertiary groups to “rule.” Never, ever keep a promise that is bad for you, breaking contracts and rules where you can. After all, a Contract might hold you and the other party to it, but if you word it right, the Contract can affect an entire settlement on one end and a disposable corporation on the other.

And always, always, keep control of what’s important—the City Core and the people.

“Thanks, First Fist,” I say to Capstan after an hour, when the crowd is getting bored, other than a few notable individuals. “Now, the reason I wanted you to hear that is for you guys to start figuring out what the hell you’re doing. From what I understand, you’ve left the Sect in control of various City Cores because none of you can agree on who gets to control them. Or hell, which form of government you intend to take.”

“There shouldn’t be any real argument. We’re still part of the US of A. We should be having an election,” a rather tubby gentleman mutters, his arms crossed in front of him.

His friends are all nodding firmly, as are a few groups.

“We are in a national emergency. In such a circumstance, the United States Army should take control of the city till we are in contact with a legitimate authority,” the Officer says, shaking his head. “If an election is decided upon, we can help conduct such an event in a fair and impartial manner.”

“Oh, like we’re going to let you army boys take over,” growls an African American man. I’m a bit jealous really—he’s wearing the System-equivalent of a leather hoodie and it’s styling. “Like you guys are actually supposed to be acting on US soil.”

“This is a unique situation,” the Officer says, turning to the man. “And there are specific protocols that have been put in place—”

“Yeah, and you still won’t tell us about what’s happened with your nukes,” one of the baristas says, glaring.

“We’ve already said there is an SOP involved in such a situation. Suffice it to say that there are plans in place for a catastrophic event like this.”

“Oh really, you guys got protocols for the end of the world and the introduction of humanity to a gaming system?” scoffs the Blue Mage.

“Not exactly, but—”

“Ahem,” I cough, quite loudly. “Look, I get it. You all have questions, and you’ve got your own things to deal with. But the longer you argue, the more people—your people—die. You need to get yourselves a city, which means putting together a real organization that all your city cores are tied to.”

“And how did you do that?” the Latino spokesperson asks, eyeing me.

“I own it. All of it,” I say, seeing no point in lying. “We’re working on a better government system, but Vancouver and its surrounding cities are now tied together.”

“You’re a Canadian dictator?” the African American says, choking on a laugh.

“Free maple syrup for all!” the Son of Odin heckler speaks up. This time, he does get a few laughs. “Watch out for the giant beavers!”

That last one gets less of a laugh as they stare at the giant red fox and Lana’s puppies.

“For now,” I say with a shrug, ignoring the heckling. “Speed is important, if you guys haven’t understood Capstan’s point. Once the big boys start moving—and some already have—we’re screwed. As it is, Texas is wholly owned by the Inlin Corporation. Alaska and the Yukon by the Duchess. Europe’s a battleground between five different groups, two of which are backed by the Movana. We need to establish a foothold and take out the smaller groups if we want any say in our lives.”

“And you want our help,” the Officer says, eyes narrowed.

“Aye. My people are good. But there aren’t enough of us. If we’re going to be expanding, we’re going to need help,” I say.

“And there we have it. The real reason you came down,” BB says before spitting to the side. “I knew you people had an agenda. We ain’t going to die for you.”

“I’m not—” I protest.

“And who’s going to take control of those cities, dictator?” the Latino calls out, hands crossed in front of him.

“That’s up to discussion.”

A roar of disapproval explodes when I say that. More questions are shouted, BB smirking as he watches the entire meeting break down. Lana shoots me a look, but I shake my head, instinct telling me that using her ability now would be seen as a provocation.

Forty minutes later, we stand around, staring at the few groups that have stayed after the others dispersed. I did my best, as did Lana, but the meeting went out of our control, egged on by BB and a few other malcontents. I couldn’t exactly blame them—having a stranger come in and tell them they sucked was never going to work out well. But someone had to say it.

“That could have gone better,” I mutter.

“No shit, boy-o. Told you you should have let Lana talk,” Ali says.

I end up rolling my eyes slightly while Lana flashes me a sympathetic smile.

“From what you said, I understand you have certain plans concerning liberating more cities?” the Officer says as he walks toward our group.

With the meeting over, I’d popped open a Portal for Capstan to head back to Vancouver with a promise to port him the rest of the way home soon.

“Aye,” I say, glancing at the few interested groups.

The all-women group clad in Adventurer chic, a weirdo group who looks as if they took their dress code inspiration from superheroes, the Mages, Barista group, and a few more “normal” groups standby. About a third of everyone who came.

“Well?” the Blue Mage barks, the East Indian almost bouncing in impatience. I absently note that he’s not gotten a genetic cleanse—or if he did, he opted out of getting more height, being a not-so-impressive 5’6”.

“Calgary,” I answer. “I’ll need to visit Edmonton first, which is human-controlled, and see what they want, but after that, we’re looking at Calgary. That’s currently controlled by two different factions—the Kingdom of Pewsin and Uvrik Corp. The first is a side kingdom of, hmmm, halflings I guess is the closest term. Not hobbits. These guys are vicious bastards. Uvrik Corp is a ‘small’ Galactic corporation with a focus mostly on fortifying foodstuff.”

“Halflings and a food corporation,” one of the Mages mutters. “I swear there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

“If you look hard enough, there’s a joke all around you,” Lana says.

“Joke or not, between those two groups, they’ve got over twenty Advanced Class in play, with three of them in the high Levels. Even a single high Level Advanced Classer can do a lot of damage. We’d need at least three or four of our guys to contain one of them,” I say firmly.

“Our guys?”

“Well, if you all agree,” I say.

“You’re asking us to free a Canadian city,” one of the ladies says, eyeing the three of us.

“I’m asking you to free a city full of humans. Yes,” I say, meeting her eyes.

“She is correct that you are asking for much…” the Officer says leadingly.

I sigh quietly, knowing that there’s going to be politics. Always damn politics. “What do you want?”

“Your help. Your Skill.”

I cock my head to the side, waiting for more. As the Officer continues. “Your actions in taking Vancouver from the Thirteen Moon Sect helped Seattle greatly. Your Class, your Skill, and your people could do the same for our other cities.”

“Yeah, but what do we get out of it?” I say softly, angling for some advantage here. Truth be told, coming down here to get help was part of the goal, so I’m not exactly bargaining from a position of power. But at least, the need is mutual.

“That depends on how that Skill of yours works,” the Officer says, skin around his grey eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“Right…” I narrow my eyes as I finally get around to reading his Status. Octavian Wier, Level 7 Officer. “Octavian. Well, that’s something we can certainly discuss.”

“I prefer my middle name, but it’s Colonel Wier to you. Acting commander of the 7th Infantry Division out of Fort Lewis,” Wier says, seemingly nonplussed by my use of his name. I see a few looks shared around, but not much.

“Acting, sure. You’re all that’s left after the hydra rolled over your base,” one of the Mages says with a snort. “That damn monster made its way halfway up the city before we ended it.”

I glare at the man, shutting him up as the soldiers stiffen. Taunting people whose job is to protect others with the deaths of their friends doesn’t seem either charitable or smart.

Once I get my silence, I look back at the colonel. “Well, I don’t have much information on the state your country is in, so I’m going to need data at the very least. But if we do this, we’re really going to need your support on our end as well. All of you.”

I see more than a few pauses, a few looks around, and I sigh. Convincing these people, even the ones who stayed to help, seems as if it’s going to take a bit. Or, on seeing the avarice in some eyes, some bribing. Rather than convincing everyone to get involved here and now, we take names and information with promises of meeting up personally to discuss the levels of their support. Better to do the discussions in person.

Octavian’s is the first group we speak with. Rather than going back to his base, we end up at the discarded remnants of a local coffee store. It’s not the best option, but it has chairs and we’ve all got travel mugs of Barista-made coffee, so it seems mildly appropriate. We get there after I’ve sent most of the team home, rather than dragging everyone about. Outside, the pets and most of Wier’s soldiers stand guard, including an interesting pair of Rangers. I’m slightly amused that the older aide keeps staring at me with what I assume is disapproval, but at least he hasn’t voiced it. Either way, I send a note to Ali to dig into the soldiers’ Status information while we talk, curious what kind of goodies they might have picked up.

“So. Retaking the USA,” I say, starting us off.

“Yes. Currently, remnants of our chain of command are gathered around Fort Belvoir, where there is a Shop. We’re in contact with them,” Colonel Wier says, a fact that startles me. Long-range communication is one of the things that we all lost, and while it’s possible to replace it, it’s expensive. That he—and the Fort—chose to get it up is startling at first. Then, it’s kind of obvious. “There are three other alien groups in Washington: one Corporation and a pair of alien governments—one a Kingdom consisting of half-giants, and one an Empire of kobolds.”

“What kind of kobolds?” Ali asks with a frown.

“Kind?”

“You humans seem to mix up three different races. Are they draconic, dog-like, or like short, skinny humans?”

“Uhhh… dog-like.”

“Pooskeens. From the planet Pos.”

“Won’t that make them Poskeens?”

Ali stares at me, hands on his hips.

“Sorry. Right. Alien grammar,” I mutter, shaking my head.

“What I’m going to say, I hope you will keep to yourself for now,” The Colonel says softly, visibly bracing himself before he continues. “In Fort Belvoir, we have the current Secretary of Agriculture, the highest elected authority we are in contact with. Along with her, we have a number of congressmen and senators. We have confirmed the death of most of the others in the chain of command including the vice president. Others are believed to be compromised.

“As such, the Secretary has—legitimately—assumed power. However, a number of army and national guard groups don’t have contact with us or her or are refusing to take orders from us. Some refuse to act on US soil. Others have gone rogue. We’ve got rebel groups, independent operating groups, and a few cities all working by themselves throughout the country.”

“No one knows who to trust, so everyone’s doing their own thing?” Lana interjects, her brows drawn together.

“In essence, yes. There are police forces and national guard members working independently,” Wier says finally. “We need to put an end to this as quickly as possible, which is why I’m looking for your help. If you can open those Portals of yours, we can shift our men to bolster allied forces and begin negotiations with those on the fence.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” I say with a sigh. I ponder for a moment keeping the details of my power back, but in this case, I realize I’m going to have to tell him something. “I can only Portal to places I’ve been to before. And keeping the Portals open are extremely Mana intensive.”

Wier nods slowly, rubbing his chin. “We can work with that. If we allocate specific teams, my men can still provide force multipliers and specialized help. We could even provide you guards and aides now.”

“No thanks,” I say with a shake of my head. “No offence, but I work better alone.”

Wier just shoots a look at my team but I refuse to back down from that statement. For one thing, it’s the truth, damn it. For another thing, anyone he sends with me is just going to act as a spy and nanny, and I neither want or need either.

“If we help you, you and your people will help us free the Canadian cities. All of them,” I say.

Wier cracks a slight smile, leaning forward. Now that I’m actually negotiating, he knows he has me. The rest of this is just a matter of numbers and plans, of how we’re going to do this rather than if. And really, I never was going to turn him down. For the next hour or so, we negotiate men and numbers, timelines, and other details. We leave a lot unsaid or to be confirmed, a lot to be determined later or open for amendments because we both understand how Murphy can be a bastard. But in the end, we have a rough agreement, one that starts with him helping us first before we shift to some American cities. When we’re done, we shake hands as you do. And that’s when we get a surprise.

Settlement Agreement Reached

Would you like to confirm the agreement (see attached)? There are significant penalties to reputation for breaching such an agreement. Additional penalties may apply (see agreement).

(Y/N)

I blink, staring at the new notification. Wier shows surprise too, obviously getting a similar screen.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Ali says, staring at the screen as well.

“You didn’t know about this?”

“Never had a Companion who was a settlement owner, so no.”

“How do I add penalties to this then?”

“You can’t. Looks like you need the Skills or an upgrade to your City.”

“So no penalties. Huh.”

“This is interesting. But I don’t need a System to keep my word,” Wier says.

Even if he does say that, I note he acknowledges and accepts the System agreement. I do too a moment later.

“Nice. Now for the next conversation,” I say, smiling. “Not to be rude, but…”

“I understand. It’s a pleasure doing business with you. We’ll be in touch for further details.”

“I’ll need to visit your base at some point.”

“Of course,” Wier agrees readily. One of the things we had to cover in our discussion was the limits of my Portal Skill. “Just let us know.”

“I will.” I flash him a grin, making a note to get work on a communications array sorted.

Interestingly enough, what Wier did wasn’t purchase the array from the System but the plans. He shared that with us, so now all we had to do was get some high Level Mechanics and Engineers on it and we’d finally have a communications array stretching across the province.

“Who’s next?” I ask Lana and Ingrid after we leave, the young ladies on Lana’s overgrown, pony-sized puppies. Ingrid knows where we’ll have to go, and Lana was the one who set up the meetings.

“Mages.”

“Ah…” I can’t help but grin at that.

Look, the Microsoft campus was the kind of place where any programmer would have loved to have worked. Just short of the Google campus really. But that was a fairy tale dream for someone of my talents. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t bad, but ‘not bad’ doesn’t get you into the big leagues.

“Down, boy,” Lana says, shaking her head. “Try not to get a nerd boner while talking to them, will you?”

“Funny.” I consider the meeting. Obviously Gates won’t be there, or Balmer. If they were, we’d have seen them at the meeting, but… “I didn’t recognize most of those Mages at the meeting.”

Ingrid nods. “No surprise. They lost a lot of people when the System came along. These days, the team you saw, they’re the front. I hear their real leadership team is out there, but I’ve yet to see them. Way I understand it, they’re busy Leveling.”

Under that somber spell, we make our way to their headquarters and are met just before we enter. The same group we saw at the meeting greets us. Now that I’ve got a bit more time, I look over the mixed race group and spot someone who’s likely of Vietnamese / Laos descent, a couple of Indians, and a few Caucasians.

“Mr. Lee,” the Blue Mage says, offering me his hand.

Realizing I might actually have to talk to him significantly more, I spend the time analyzing his status as I get off Sabre and set it to follow me along.

Charles Cutler (Blue Mage Level 6)

HP: 560/560

MP: 1840/1840

Conditions: None

“Nice to meet you.” I glance around. “Are we not being invited in?”

“No, no, nothing like that. We just wanted to make sure you had a proper escort,” Charles says, rubbing the top of his bald crown. For all that he might be folliclely challenged, the fortyish man seems to be in good health, with no sign of a gut and even some definition around his arms. “We’ve already voted and decided to give you all the help you need.”

“Pardon…?” I freeze, staring at Charles.

“You owe me fifty,” someone says in a thick Indian accent, but I’m still staring at Charles, waiting for his explanation.

“We’ll help you. There are limitations—we won’t reduce our guard below what’s safe for us—but if you need it, we’ll throw whatever help we can. You can consider us Allies,” Charles says again.

Settlement Alliance Offered (John Lee & the Mages of Seattle)

An offer of alliance has been offered. An alliance will automatically classify all trade between settlements as alliance trades for the purposes of taxes, tariffs, and duties. In addition, this open alliance offer includes a mutual defense treaty. Failures to uphold this alliance will result in penalties to reputation. Additional penalties may apply (see details).

Note: As you are in a State of War with the Thirteen Moon Sects, the Mages of Seattle will automatically be considered at War upon agreement to this alliance.

Agree? (Y/N)

“Ali? The details?” I say, my eyes wide as I scan the information. I absently note that Charles has already read and dismissed his notification, a glowing little mark indicating that they’ve accepted their side of the agreement showing up on my own blue screen.

“One second. It’s lengthy. Damn, but I wish Kim was here,” Ali says, his eyes darting over the information.

After a moment, I share the screen with Lana, whose eyebrows rise then furrow as she reads. The lady has a business degree, so she might catch something Ali or I don’t.

“This is generous.” I stare at Charles. “Why?”

“Simply put? We understand your motivations.”

“My what…?” I stop, realizing what he means. “You’ve been buying information on me from the Shop.”

“Yes. Ever since your friend”—he waves at Ingrid, who is busy chatting with another young lady in the group—“came to us about you and your plans, we’ve been researching you. It’s been entertaining and enlightening. We understand your goals, and we agree with them.”

I open my mouth to ask why again but stop, realizing that’s probably rather insulting. Why can’t other people want to do good? Yet a cynical part of me really questions their ready agreement.

“We also think you and the Colonel will need our help. We have a number of Seers and Diviners who can fix some of your problems, guide you around potential issues,” Charles continues as we walk into the campus, a slight twitch of his lips as he notes my expression of surprise.

I’m getting a little annoyed at being tracked so much, but I push it down. “That’s good.”

“Now, I understand you were a programmer before? Have you ever been to our campus? It’s not what it was, but we’d like to think it’s still pretty amazing,” Charles says, waving. “In that building, we’ve got our Alchemists, Potionoligists, and…”

I shut up, listening to him while Ali and Lana go over the documents. We’ll probably agree if they don’t see any serious landmines. At this point, we can’t turn away any Allies, even if I find the entire thing a little fishy. So I shut up and listen, content to probe between descriptions.

Hours later—more hours than we should have spent with any one group—we’re finally out of the compound and on our way to the next group. We obviously agreed to the alliance, after Lana and Ali checked the terms and came up with nothing too troubling. A few probing questions got us a little more information about their thinking too.

“Did you notice that we never got to meet more of their people? Not even their main team. And I get the feeling they’re still holding a bit to the old corporate bureaucracy,” Lana says, finishing my unvoiced thought.

“Aye.”

“They are a corporation. Soul sucking bastards that they are,” Ingrid says, shaking her head. “But the way I understand it, their main team are still below our Levels.”

“Huh.” I grimace. “Well, at least we know our Levels are one of the reasons they want to help.”

“I’m not sure I like that,” Lana says, lips thin. “Killing, killing sentients, for experience—”

“Is efficient. Them saying that bothers you?” Ali chimes in. “Even if it’s true?”

“Yes.” Lana’s lips thin again. “It’s like most of the ones we met see this as a game. The way they kept going on about our ‘prestige’ Classes, builds, and how to ‘game’ their Advancement.”

“They might,” Ingrid says, “but their leaders don’t. From what my friends say, part of it is they’re angling for better relations with their government. There’s talk about making the campus an academy for Mages. I think they’re still thinking about profits, really.”

“Academy?” I ask, curious if it has more meanings. Or what, if any, bonuses the System might offer.

“System-registered dedicated learning institution. You get bonuses for learning and research. It requires, well, Credits and land and a few other things,” Ali says. “They can’t do it right now. It’s like a Tier II building.”

“So, they need help building upwards,” I say slowly. And of course, being the largest and most developed settlement around, having us as allies is probably useful for them. It might even be part of their requirements to get an Academy in place. I make a note to check on that later, but at least now I have a better feel for the group. Idealistic gamers on the bottom end, fast-moving sharks on the top. So, perhaps not the best kind of allies, but probably reliable until things go completely to hell.

“Who’s next?” I call, deciding to put this issue aside for now. Whatever the case, getting more help is the goal.

“The Baristas.”

“You want to start a chain,” I say slowly and carefully.

“Exactly. We get land for free. We’ll do the buildup ourselves. We operate tax-free and train your people in your settlements. One per Shop,” Kaylee, the pink-haired, punk-rock-styled girl, says with an impish grin.

“Leased. And taxed,” Lana says, leaning in.

“No way. We own the place and twenty years tax-free.”

“Leased. Tax- and rent-free for ten years.”

I roll my eyes, sitting back and letting the pair argue. At least this is reasonable. As I sip on a latte, I can’t help but think that we’re getting the better part of the deal.

“We’re mercenaries. We get paid for our help.”

“I see,” I say slowly, while thinking that they really, really aren’t. A ragtag group of ex-weekend warriors, gang members, and thieves is what I’d guess. Capstan and his people, the Major, they’re mercenaries. These guys are wannabes. “What are your rates?”

“Well now, that’d depend on how many of our people you want and at what Levels.”

I grunt, sighing. “Got a rate sheet? And a frequent user reward card?”

“No… but we could look into that,” Laila, the African American woman with the big, big hair says uncertainly, not entirely sure if I’m kidding or not.

Truth be told, I’m not sure either.

“I hear you’ll be fighting more of those aliens,” Desmond, the greying, bearded man, says before spitting to the side. He’s in charge of a group that formed from one of the suburbs, a mixed group of upper-middle-class folk. His group isn’t the strongest, but being far enough from the front lines means they’ve managed to survive and prosper.

“That’s the plan. Freeing the cities and pushing them back,” I say.

“And what do you plan for the alien crafters, the non-fighters?”

“They’re called Artisans. Galaxy-wide, that is,” I say, curious where he’s going with this.

“Artisans then.”

“Well, I haven’t really considered it much yet,” I say, frowning. “We didn’t have many to deal with in Vancouver.”

“And the few you did? Those aliens?”

“Most aren’t Sect members, so they’ve been allowed to stay.”

“I see. And if they were part of the Sect?”

“We’ve been leaving the Artisans alone. They’ve mostly shipped out anyway. The few who stick around, we’ve restricted their movements and dealings, but they are unharmed.”

“And prisoners?”

“We had none,” I say, grimacing. The Sect fought to the last man in Kamloops. The needless deaths soured my emotions, reducing what little patience I have for all this politicking. “Why don’t we stop dancing around? Tell me what you’re asking.”

“I understand that they made our people Serfs in Vancouver. Seems like a good, profitable solution. We certainly could use higher Level Artisans,” Desmond says.

Rather than answer him—not that I physically could with the way the anger chokes up my voice—I stand and walk out. Asshole.

“Mr. Lee—” he cuts off as Lana shoots him a disgusted look, the pets growling in unison to her change in emotions.

If I had to listen to him speak further, I might do something he’d regret.

Meetings after meetings, that’s our next few days as we make our way through the groups willing to talk. Everyone wants something. Assurances, alliances—informal or formal—or even the right to immigrate. Trade deals and training, it’s all there. And while I work over the ones who indicated earlier that they were willing to talk, Lana’s on the others, the ones who refused, working her Charisma and charm.

All because we want to help them out. Gods, sometimes I hate people.

Chapter 5

I survey my friends, my teammates, my fellow dungeon delvers one last time as Sabre slides into place over my body. Mikito is already fully armed and armored in her own PAV, while Lana finishes checking over the harnesses on her pets. The harnesses are for the mini portable shield generators which will act as additional armor for the pets. Instead of a single generator, Lana commissioned a custom harness with each generator, providing a smaller area of overlapping coverage. It’s basically the force field equivalent of scale armor, but projected an inch or so above the pets’ bodies. The shields themselves are ablative protections, meant to absorb a small amount of damage before failing and restarting.

Behind Lana, Sam’s doing his own last-minute fixes. All around him are dozens of drones. Rather than a few larger drones, Sam has decided to test out a new theory, chaining together multiple small drones via a “hive” mind process, giving him more flexibility but with lower damage output individually. Theoretically, they’ve got a higher overall damage output but are significantly more vulnerable. As the man put it, it’s a bit of an experiment. Still, having dozens of skittering, spider-like drones with a variety of weapons makes the older gentleman look just a touch scary.

Ingrid is Ingrid. The assassin sits quietly, buffing her fingernails while waiting for the rest of the team to get ready. She’s clad in her usual getup of light armored jumpsuit, a pair of emergency portable shields on her hips, knives and a blaster awaiting use. The First Nations woman looks perfectly calm, waiting for us to get moving.

“We ready?” I ask, my gaze finally falling on the last and latest addition to the team.

The Latino object of my regard grimaces as he swigs down another potion. A series of small vials is strapped across his body in bandoliers and belts, making him look like a weird mixture of Danny Trejo and a glassmaker. Propped against his feet is a weapon that looks like a slender grenade launcher.

Carlos Garcia (Level 48 Apprentice Alchemist)

HP: 380/380

MP: 1780/1780

Conditions: Stoneskin, Aura of Flame, HP Regeneration Buffed, MP Regeneration Buffed, Perception Buffed, Strength Buffed, … (more)

“I’ve a few potions for everyone,” Carlos says, waving at the green and grey vials that are hand-labeled and propped up on the ground in front of him. His Mexican accent is mixed with American after the years he’s spent in Seattle. “Stoneskin is grey. Gives you a little increase in your armor rating. The green is Eagle Eye; it’s a Perception buff. They’re my best potions, outside of the healing ones. Ingrid said that I should just sell the rest…”

“A few more minutes,” Lana calls back as she works on the straps. We’d help, but our helping is what caused the initial delay as Lana fixes our mistakes.

While I wait, I pick up the Stoneskin potion and eye it for a second before downing it.

Stoneskin Buff Gained

+23 Armor Rating

Duration: 6 hours 18 Minutes and 4 Seconds

Thirty Levels ago, this would have been amazing. Twenty Levels and it’d have been a nice boost. Now, it’s a small drop in the bucket. Still, a small drop is better than nothing. Mikito picks up the potions, tossing them underhanded to Ingrid and Sam, the last almost fumbling the second catch. Carlos winces at the casual abuse of his work.

“Good choice,” I say. If these are his best, then I can understand why Ingrid got Carlos to sell his other work. Until Carlos can get his skill—and Skill—higher, his support potions aren’t that useful. “So your Health potions are better?”

“Of course—387 Health each,” Carlos says proudly.

“That’s not bad. Why the difference?” I ask.

“It’s complicated,” Carlos says, looking uncertain.

Before he can attempt to explain it, Ali pops into existence, snorting. “Let me simplify it for the boy-o. You know how making items works right, boy-o? Artisans get Skill Trees just like you, but the Skill Trees are a bit more complex. On one branch, you’ve got production Skills—making things faster, cheaper, or just replicating. Then you’ve got the assessment or analysis Skills—things that let the Artisan get better at what they’re doing. Lastly, you’ve got the actual product Skills, which dictate what you can produce. Within each of those product Skills, you might have classes of items or tiers which can improve how well you produce items of that sort.”

I note how more than a few people look at Ali as he explains things.

“That’s right. I’ve got—”

“Hush, noob. I’m talking,” Ali says, running right over Carlos. “Now, when noob over there produces a potion, he’s going to be limited to some extent by the materials he uses. There’s only so much you can do if your materials suck. After that, his skill and experience at making the most out of the material comes into play. The more experience, the better he is, the more he can use the materials to their utmost. And then, you layer his Class Skills on top of that, boosting whatever he makes by his Skill. Master craftsmen can easily triple or quadruple the effects of even a low Level item due to their Skills.”

“Shortbus is correct,” Carlos says, nodding. “I’ve focused most of my Skills on Healing and Mana potions, so my support potions aren’t that powerful. But they’ll improve as my production Skills get better and I get more experience. Right now, I’ve got a thirty-eight percent efficiency with producing support potions.”

“Shortbus!” Ali starts up.

I send him a glare, shutting the Spirit down.

“Thank you,” I say to Carlos before glancing at Ingrid, who has returned to buffing her nails.

I grunt, wondering what she meant by dragging the man back with her and dropping him into our party with a single sentence as an introduction. “Meet our Healer.” Sometimes, that woman…

“So are you ready for this?” I ask him.

“I’ve been in dungeons before,” Carlos says firmly. “However, it’d be nice to know what the plan is.”

“We’re going to port in. Ingrid scouts ahead, finding traps and dealing with single Scouts. Everyone needs to have a shield up at all times—otherwise, the Yurk Scouts will poison you—and we clear the dungeon. Mikito and I are the front-line fighters, Lana and her pets are the flankers, and Sam fills in with his drones. You stay behind with Sam, healing as we need it,” I say, shrugging. “Pretty simple. It’s not that tough a dungeon.”

Carlos stares at me for a second, a faint look of disbelief on his face. That’s when Lana calls out she’s ready and impatient to get going, so I cast my Portal. Ingrid darts forward, the nail file stowed away in a flash. Roland and Shadow, not to be outdone, race through the Portal, followed by Mikito and Sam’s drones. Within seconds, the group is streaming through while Carlos stares at me, dumbfounded by my brilliance.

“You can heal, right?” I say as I gently pull him by his elbow across the Portal before snapping it shut.

“Sort of. I don’t have inherent Class Skills, but I’ve put most of my profits into buying Healing Spells and Skills. Most of my Class Skills are more suited for use outside the dungeon,” Carlos says.

“Good. Try to keep up then,” I say, looking around the university square.

It’s not really a square, more of a rectangle flanked by a squat faculty building to the right with an overhang farther down and elevated walkways to the left. Stairs lead down into the rectangle itself, the light brown squares dirty and overgrown with weeds.

Unlike our first time, there’s no large gathering of monsters, no grouping of nastiness. Sam’s drones are laying down mines and traps under his direction while others take off into the mist-enshrouded darkness to give us a better view. The digging drones are fast, laying out a mine field in minutes. I briefly wonder if we could use him to help build / rebuild some locations in town but dismiss it. Not the right time. Clearing the dungeon is a sideshow to our main objectives.

“Incoming,” Ingrid’s voice cackles softly over the communicator.

I’m grateful that Galactic tech comes with “smart” tech, transmitting messages to the correct recipient automatically. The more we use them, the “smarter” the tech gets.

On Ingrid’s warning, Lana falls back toward us, Anna and Howard taking stations a bit ahead, while Mikito stands as the spear of the group. No surprise that Roland and Shadow are nowhere to be seen. I step forward, joining the Samurai, while Sam crouches, deploying a portable shield around himself and Carlos as he controls his drones.

On my minimap, I watch the monsters streaming down roads and out of buildings, forming up, seemingly able to see or sense one another through the mists. Groups appear and disappear as Sam’s drones move around or, in some cases, get shot down. A few Scouts try to get close, but Ingrid and the pets strike and kill the Scouts long before they reach us to get a decent view. Luckily, we’re not near the forest or else it’d be more of a problem.

When they’re two-thirds of the way to us, Sam pulls his diggers back or hides them in the ground in an attempt to preserve the element of surprise. I finish my buffs, having tossed Soul Shield on myself, Lana, and Sam. I figured Carlos has enough buffs to keep himself alive. And if he doesn’t… well, we’ll find out.

At first, it’s just one or two Yurks, seen through the parting of the mists. They become more visible, more stable as they near us. Singular Yurks transform into groups moving in lockstep. Shield-bearing Yurks in the front, bow-wielding Yurks behind, and Yurks over twelve feet tall are scattered throughout. They march forward slowly, getting closer and closer to where our traps are set, then they stop as they shake out their lines.

“Boss…” Sam mutters, eyeing the group, obviously uncomfortable with their actions.

“Wai—”

My words are cut off as the Yurk mages make their appearance. Or at least, make their presence known. Lightning bolts reach down, striking the earth in front of the reptile-frogs with booms of fury, electricity dancing in the air and destroying our carefully laid traps. I wonder why they didn’t call the strikes down on us. Unfortunately, I thought too soon—that’s when the lightning rolls forward, bringing electrical death.

“Hell…” I say, hunching slightly unconsciously as the lightning bathes us.

Electric fire reaches from the heavens, striking all of us as quick as a little dog’s temper tantrum, and just as quickly, it’s gone. Twisting around, I spot Carlos looking a little worse for the wear, steam rising from his cracked and burnt flesh. Even as I watch, his health creeps above half, but that’s not enough, so I throw a Soul Shield on him. He looks relieved, overloaded nerves in his body slowly recovering as he downs another potion. After a second, he stands straighter, burnt and smoking skin healing before my eyes. I absently wonder how he’s able to keep consuming so many potions without suffering from potion poisoning, but that’s probably a Skill.

“Damn. Your shield is down,” Lana says to me, running a hand along her long hair and fixing her ponytail. “And I’m going to have to see a hairdresser after this.”

I stare at the young lady, my mind splitting for a second as I realize I haven’t actually seen one in the past year. Outside of my hair growing slightly longer, I haven’t had to deal with it. For a moment, I wonder how the hell that works—before the plink of arrows hitting Sabre’s shield brings me back to the present. Deal with that question later. Later.

The rocking boom of Lana’s shotgun, the shrill whistling sound of gauss projectiles fired from Sam’s drones, the grunt of exertion as Carlos fires his potions down range anchors me to the moment. Ahead of us, our assault on the Yurks leads to death and fire, clouds of gas and shrapnel raining around us. Mikito absently swings her polearm, cutting arrows from the sky, the clearest traces of her movements the shattered shards of wood and bone.

I raise my hand, unleashing projectiles from Sabre’s rifle, each shot drilling into the Yurks. Anna pitches in a few seconds later as the army closes again, tendrils of flame whipping along glistening shells. A thudding boom, a change in rhythm, and the army charges even as the drums shift once more.

Musical Fear Effect Resisted

Without breaking step, Mikito counter-charges the group. I grunt, taking off after the insane woman, eyeing the range estimator in my helmet. Five meters later, I trigger the mini-missiles, the tiny explosives flying forward to tear and disrupt their ranks. A step later, Mikito shines, ghostly armor layering on top of her PAV, her body speeding up and becoming a living spear. The shock of her clash with the already disrupted vanguard throws back the front ranks of the army, the unlucky couple directly in front of her exploding apart from the transferred kinetic force of her attack.

Layered over the explosive meeting of lines, the howls and growls of the puppies reverberate in my chest and hearten our group. I trigger my Sonic Blaster a second later, layering confusion on top of shock before terror arrives in the form of the pets and Ingrid. Some appear from the flanks, others charging into the gap Mikito has created. And then I’m there too, swords dancing in my hands as limbs and bodies separate.

“Holy shit!” Carlos breathes over the communicator.

“Yeah, it takes getting used to,” Sam says with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, you get used to it. Sort of.”

Lana’s chuckle runs across the comms, reaching straight down my spine and making my lower body clench. The distraction is unfortunate, the attack from a Yurk behemoth catching me across my body and lifting Sabre off the ground and throwing me into the air. Before I can twist away, another attack slams me into the ground. My landing is only barely reduced by the body of an unfortunate Yurk Warrior.

My protective shields shattered, the next club attack is enough to dent Sabre’s armor and leave bruises all along my body. I stagger upward, spinning to send aside the Yurk Warriors who have crowded around me. Mecha-assisted strength and agility combined with my own attributes and my slender grasp of System physics provides me a moment of respite. Even as I stop spinning, the behemoth is before me again, its club approaching at a speed I’m unable to dodge. Thankfully, I’m not alone. A bladed polearm stabs forward, shifting the trajectory of the club.

“No lying down!” Mikito says, darting through a gap and leaving a surprised Yurk Warrior tottering on one foot as she continues her attack, dancing deeper into the army.

I snarl, staring at the Yurk behemoth retracting its giant club, readying for its next attack. Bunching my feet, I hop, feet slamming into the side of the club before I launch myself off it. Not directly at the behemoth as it expects but past it. When I’m half past its body, I twist, slamming my sword into its shoulder to alter my momentum. My shoulder aches, my sword slides and twists as it cuts, but it’s enough. A moment later, I swing my other hand, sword in it, into its neck.

As I ride the Yurk down, I raise my hand and unleash a fireball into another behemoth’s face, the attack partly deflected as a Warrior tackles me in the middle of my casting. Strong as I am, physics still has some say in this world and I’m shifted sideways, feet skidding on the blood-slick floor. Before I can recover to finish the behemoth, a fast-moving set of vials flies into the roaring monster’s mouth. Pink and purple smoke explodes as the vials shatter, the creature grabbing at its throat as it goes on a mad rampage, heedless of friend or foe.

“What the hell?” Lana says.

“Poison, capsaicin, and a hallucinogenic,” Carlos says. “Forces an enraged status while dealing damage over time.”

I’d add my two bits, but having dealt with one of their leaders, I’m getting swarmed by Yurk Berserkers.

Yurk Berserker (Level 41)

HP: 3287/3483

MP: 230/247

Conditions: Enraged, Pain to Blood, Acidic Form

These guys don’t seem to care what kind of damage I deal to them, happy to trade damage for damage. And when I cripple one by lopping off both its arms, it throws itself at me then blows itself up, coating me in unmentionables. Without my shields and the time to replenish them, Sabre’s taking a beating and myself within it, swords and axes punching through metal armor even as the nanites do quick repairs.

“It might be time to heal John,” Sam says, his voice absentminded as he controls his swarm.

“Right. Sorry!” Carlos replies.

A second later, I’m bathed in white light. My health stabilizes and starts rising. I’m only about a third down, Sabre’s armor and my own regeneration more than sufficient for most purposes. Then again, losing a third of my Health would have been enough to kill most Casters. So everything’s relative. But now that I’ve got healing support, I make Sabre disappear, content to let the mecha fix itself while I wade in, ready to deal a little damage face-to-face.

“How’s Mikito?” I growl over the radio. I could probably check on my party screen, but I trust her. Hell, while she might not have as much health as me, she’s got a decent buffer.

“Fine,” Mikito calls, her breathing and voice only slightly short from exertion. A white light flashes as her blade extends, chopping downward and sweeping multiple opponents aside.

After that… well, after that, it’s just mop up work.

“Not bad,” I say to Carlos, stretching out my muscles.

We’ve been at this dungeon for six hours, and we have finally figured out where the Boss is likely to be. Once we dealt with the main army, the numbers we faced were significantly smaller. It’s been annoying, going through classroom after classroom, laboratory after laboratory to deal with the Yurks. They keep switching tactics, going from stand-up battles to traps to ambushes to constant harrying attacks. The numbers and Levels have gotten steadily higher as we figure out the layout of the dungeon and attack the higher Level buildings. And through it all, Carlos has been healing and buffing us.

“Thanks. You guys…” Carlos shakes his head. “I’ve seen Advanced Classes fight before in Seattle, even joined a few other teams, but…”

“But…?”

“But nothing like you guys,” Carlos says, walking alongside us.

“We’ve all got somewhat rare Classes. It gives us a bit of an advantage,” I say.

“It’s more than that,” Carlos says. “It’s more your style…”

“You guys might have been fighting the Sect, but we’ve been fighting monsters all along,” Ingrid says, appearing right behind Carlos and making him jump.

“Gah!”

“Fighting aliens is easy. Most of them only have two hands and two legs. Makes their attack combinations easier to predict. Monsters swarm, come in different sizes and shapes. And they have a much wider range of Skills to use,” Ingrid says almost proudly. “The Sect members might have been higher Level, but they weren’t as savage. They want to live just as much you do. Monsters, they don’t seem to care. Also, you guys might have been out-Leveled at times, but in Whitehorse, we were always out-Leveled.”

I shrug, not entirely sure I agree with Ingrid’s explanation. I think the rarity of our Classes makes a bigger difference. More stats per Level, better Skills, hell, better equipment makes a difference. Over the course of fifty Levels, even a single extra attribute point adds up. The difference between someone at Strength 60 and Strength 10 is night and day.

“Enough talk. Sam, how’re your drones?” Lana says as we approach the final building—the chemistry labs. Says something about chemistry students when the dungeon Boss decides to hole up in their faculty.

“About half left. I’m out of reserves too. Not sure I’m liking this. Feels like I’m standing around burning Credits like a gangster on a coke high,” Sam grouses.

“But effective,” I point out.

Compared to previously, Sam’s been a lot more useful. I’ll admit, the crew-served weapon was great for the war, but in a dungeon, it’s limited. Now, his drones can and do a little of everything. Hell, he even had a few dedicated shield drones whose only job was to block attacks.

“That too.”

“All right, any last words?” I say as I walk up to the doors.

“Phrasing!” Ali calls out, his statement followed by chuckles but not much else.

“Well, this might get interesting. I’m staying intangible,” Ali says as we step into the laboratory.

The System’s warped the space within, the last laboratory having expanded to the size of a soccer field. All down the way, tables are filled with beakers and Bunsen burners, all of them boiling, distilling, and condensing a variety of liquids and solids, none of which I recognize.

“Take me with you?” Carlos entreats Ali, his eyes darting side to side. “None of this makes sense, but my Skills are saying it’s all explosive.”

“Figured,” I say. “Think it’ll regenerate like the other labs?”

“Obviously,” Lana says dryly.

Ingrid doesn’t answer, slipping forward through the shadows while Roland and Shadow follow on a parallel path. At the end of the laboratory is the Yurk Boss, clad in a laboratory coat of all things, his Enforcers and Bodyguards flanking him. Those, at least, seem to follow the “medieval warfare” theme.

“So. Frigging. Weird,” Sam says, his drones scurrying forward. One accidentally knocks over a beaker, and the resulting explosion consumes it and two of its friends. “Sorry!”

“Be careful,” I say, watching as the Boss group turns toward us where we stand at the entrance.

They aren’t moving, which means they’re likely waiting for reinforcements. That’s the way they’ve played it so far. Judging that Ingrid and company have gotten ahead far enough, we move forward, Lana leaving Anna and Howard to guard our backs. One uses heat; the other is the size of a pony. Neither of which works in such confined, volatile spaces. Shadow at least seems to have a weird ability to partly phase through things, occasionally seeming to blend with its own, sentient shadow. Roland, while huge, is scarily agile.

Making a decision, I jog forward, calling for Ingrid and the pets to slow down. Already, I can see the beaker that the drone tipped over back in place, the room magically having “healed” the location. A quick check shows my Soul Shield is at full strength, as is Sabre. Considering what we’re facing, I’m dressed fully, even if Sabre is showing signs of damage.

Our enemies don’t waste time once we get moving. Yurk Enforcers stand in front while the Bodyguards stay to the side, using atlatls to send spears arcing toward me, missing the fluorescent-lit drop-ceiling by inches. I dodge to the side, but I realize a moment later it doesn’t matter—they were never aiming at me. The ensuing explosions take me off my feet, throwing me sideways as the Enforcers seem to almost teleport to my sprawled form.

My shields soak up the initial explosions, the Enforcers swarming me. Axes and swords stab into my body, sparking against the shields. Dodged blows, backhands, and missed strikes set off more explosions as the Enforcers push me around the lab, none of the explosions seeming to harm the Enforcers much.

Yurk Enforcer (Level 48)

HP: 1287/1383

MP: 839/1042

Conditions: Lab Assistant, Shared Pool

“Ali!” I snarl, blocking a shot with my left hand while pumping projectiles into the Yurk’s face with the other. A crunch in my side comes from an attack that manages to pierce my shield, its trailing glow an indicator of a Skill.

“Shit. The Boss is giving all the Yurks near immunity to damage from the Lab through a Buff. And that Shared Pool means all your damage is getting shared around them,” Ali says, his eyes roving.

“Help please!” I snarl, stepping deep into one Enforcer’s attack and grabbing its arm.

I could Blink Step away, but as the tank, my job is to keep them busy. It pulls, its slimy, smooth skin slipping out of my grip before I can throw it into its friend. A Yurk steps up, ready to impale me, and stumbles away, smashing a vial that sends another wash of flame over us as Mikito’s naginata pulls out of its body.

“Go. I have them,” Mikito says confidently.

I’m not sure she’s right, but we need the Boss dead. I Blink Step the rest of the way, appearing next to the Boss with only its pair of Bodyguards now. That was the point of my initial rush, drawing them out to deal with each group in pieces. My sword swings downward, intent on cutting the damn Yurk Boss apart, only to be blocked by a Bodyguard. Pushed backward, I find myself dueling the pair of Bodyguards, unable to get past them to the Boss. The Boss ignores the entire thing, instead mixing together vials. Each time it’s done, it tosses the vials away to shatter on the floor. Colored smoke soon surrounds us, a variety of Status effects appearing.

You are Poisoned!

-13 HP per second. Effect partially resisted

You are Slowed!

-8% Agility. Effect partially resisted

You are Hallucinating!

-4% Perception. Effect partially resisted

Again and again, clouds of smoke erupt, affecting us all. Even through Sabre’s fully enclosed environmental system, I’m being affected, which doesn’t make sense. But then again, it’s the System and when has it ever made sense? I do know I’m only taking a portion of the effects, between my Class’s innate Resistances and the additional Resistances from Sabre. But as I skip backward and twist to dodge an attack, my friends aren’t as lucky.

Howard, Anna, Lana, and Mikito are fighting the half-dozen Enforcers in a chaotic skirmish. Lab tables and equipment are destroyed unceasingly, glass and wood shrapnel flying through the air to impale and injure while the System visibly regrows the set pieces, only for them to be destroyed again a moment later. Lana’s bleeding from a cut across her neck, shotgun held low as she feeds more shells into it while being protected by Anna. Shadow explodes from the side, shadow and real mouth taking hold of an Enforcer limb and pulling as if to tear it apart. But none of the monsters have fallen, and at least one, if not more, of the clouds has a regenerative effect.

I coat my sword with Frost Blade, hoping to slow the monsters down. That forces me to trade a cut across my body, which shatters the last of my shields, for the time taken to cast the spell. It also means I can’t dismiss the blade anymore, not without the spell losing its effect, but slowing these guys down is important. I fall back again and again.

“Down!” Sam snaps.

I duck, almost impaling myself on a sword before realizing the command wasn’t for me. A moment later, criss-crossing beams of fire light up behind me, baking my back even through Sabre. The resulting secondary explosion punches me deeper into the floor, jarring the Bodyguards and Boss above me.

“What the hell was that?” Lana shouts over the radio.

“Tier III Skill, All Hell Breaks Loose. I’m out of drones!” Sam says.

“Explain later. Kill now!” Mikito snarls.

As much as I want to look behind me, I’m busy batting aside swords, slamming my blade into any visible body part. Which, in most cases, is a hand or arm. Within four strikes, I can see the Bodyguards slowing, their hands frozen as the spell takes effect. But I pay for it. Sabre’s working overtime to deal with cuts and stabs, applying bandages and patching worn armor. A pale blue cloud reaches me, and a new notification appears.

Antidote applied! Poison Debuff Removed

“Urrrkk…” the Boss gurgles, Ingrid finally making her presence known.

Blades shoved into his kidneys and then withdrawn to cut the Boss’s throat, she saws away as she attempts to end this. Backstab and other Skill multipliers notwithstanding, this is a Boss and his health is unnaturally bolstered.

Antidote applied! Perception debuff removed

A Bodyguard teleports beside Ingrid and swings his sword down while she’s got her arms full. Before it can connect, Roland appears from the shadows, jaws clamping around the arm, the skill Massive Bite triggering. How something so big and terrifying can hide in this starkly illuminated space is terrifying and puzzling. I’m just glad he’s on our side.

Without a distraction, Ingrid focuses her attacks on the Boss, disrupting his ability to create more potions. Even a last-minute explosion which throws her backward doesn’t save him, the poison her blade’s coated in slowly ripping him apart.

After that, it’s mop up time. Carlos continues to throw out potions, some actively destroying the clouds, others just removing debuffs or buffing us in the other direction. With only one Bodyguard to fight, I kill him quickly and return to the fight with the Enforcers, all of whom are suffering from burns and reeling from the damage. Even then, I can tell that Mikito and Lana are the worse for wear.

Congratulations! Dungeon Cleared

+5,000 XP

First Clear Bonus

Having cleared the bonus for the first time, you have been rewarded an additional +5,000XP +1,000 Credits.

“Well, that was fun.” I grunt, sitting on the floor.

With the Boss defeated, the formerly volatile mixtures seem to have stabilized, letting Carlos and Sam join us as we sprawl on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Carlos says, shaking his head. “What are your pain resistances? That must have hurt!”

“Pretty high,” I say, not wanting to point out my Class came with an innate resistance to pain.

Mikito nods while Lana snorts as she adjusts her clothing futilely. After a moment, she mutters something about going to get changed, her pets following her out the door. Mikito turns bright red, realizing the state of her clothes and the amount of skin she’s showing, and Hastes out of the room after Lana.

“I’ve seen high. Worked with someone with resistances over 40% and he still didn’t want to tank. Said it still sucked,” Carlos says.

“Ah…” I frown, considering how to answer that.

“Well, boy-o’s insane,” Ali answers with a knowing grin.

“And I try not to get hurt,” Ingrid says with a smirk.

“Never mind all that, what have we got for loot?” Sam interjects, pointing at the Boss’s body.

We all pause then grin, spreading out to loot our kills. A few minutes later, with Lana and Mikito back, we share the information on our murder-happy gains.

+28,385 Credits

Tier III Hallucinogenic Recipe Gained

Tier II Potion of Strength Recipe Gained

Those are the interesting items. I’m particularly impressed we got Credits, since that almost never happens. One of the few advantages of fighting something sentient. Of course, the recipes go to Carlos while the miscellaneous monster parts and mildly interesting weapons get packed away for sale. Neither Mikito nor I need their melee weapons and the others don’t fight in close quarters, so they’re Shop fodder.

“Now what?” Carlos says, looking around.

I shrug. “Now we do it again in a few days when the dungeon resets. And we write up a guide for our people so that they can do it too. Once we clear it enough, the System should have dispersed enough Mana that the dungeon will stop coming back.” I mentally send a request to Ali to get an estimate on how many times. “In the meantime, the UBC dungeon needs more checking, which I’m going to leave to you guys.”

“Oh…” Carlos frowns, looking about as everyone else nods, Sam looking sad as he picks up the pieces of his drones. I guess that last Skill destroyed his drones. “And you?”

“I’ve got a trip to plan.”

Chapter 6

As much as I’d love to get on Sabre and go, there are things I need to settle. Perhaps most importantly, I need to speak with the Guilds. The first meeting—a video call, aided by the System since we still don’t have our communication array up—is to Labashi.

“Major,” I say when he finally appears.

“Redeemer. I hope this call is good news,” Labashi says.

“It is. I’m willing to offer your Mercenary Company a base. It won’t be in Vancouver, but in Burnaby,” I say.

“Really. I do not believe that location is able to host our base,” Labashi says.

“Not yet. But the ownership requirements aren’t too far away. There’s a university where a dungeon is formed. We just cleared it; it’s easily doable. From what Ali says, we’ve got about three clears left before it dissipates,” I say. “We’re willing to let you purchase the land in its entirety.”

“Purchase?” Labashi says slowly, rubbing his chin.

It’s a much better offer than normal—most contracts are only set up to be leased for a specific number of years. It’s one of the important parts about the System now that we’re fully integrated—by keeping everything on a lease basis, the chances of a settlement being taken over is reduced. That we were able to purchase land outright during the set up period was one of the few advantages that we, being on Earth, had.

“That is reasonable. After all, we are putting the Credits down for it. And it is a significant amount of land.”

I snort, and Labashi flashes me a grin, knowing that his attempt at negotiation isn’t getting him anywhere. While he has a point that picking up all that land will help the city, it’s still not worth the permanent removal of the land from our control. With the initial probing done, we get down to the brass tacks and negotiating.

We’re working on broad strokes of course. Katherine, Lana, Kim, and the rest of them will get the details hammered down later. But at the end, we have an agreement of sorts.

Labashi nods, scanning the notification in front of him as he summarizes our long discussion. “Our headquarters will be in your university, this SFU. In return, we provide a permanent guard for the city and will, on attack of the Lower Mainland, deploy all available forces from our base. In addition, we will provide a company’s worth of help twice in assaults. Or an equivalent number of aid split across multiple assaults or defenses. These assaults or additional defenses will take no longer than a month in total of deployment. We do, of course, reserve the right to refuse such attacks as per our usual agreements.” Which, from what I recall, mostly amount to “we don’t do suicidal attacks.” “In return, we will have the land in perpetuity and two years’ worth of rent waived.”

“And miscellaneous additions about training, resale of your equipment, and on-going use of your engineering division for upgrade,” I add. “But that’s for the eggheads.”

“Egg. Heads?” Labashi raises an eyebrow.

“Never mind. Human terminology. Don’t worry about it.”

“IT IS DEMEANING TO BE COMPARED TO A NASCENT ORGANIC LIFEFORM.”

“Sorry, Kim. Does it help that I’m technically an egghead?”

“NO.”

“Redeemer?” Labashi says as I have my quick side conversation.

“If we’re agreed, I’ve got another call,” I say, well aware of how expensive this entire conversation is.

“We will let the eggheads finish this agreement. In the meantime, I will begin the process of arranging our presence in your city,” Labashi says with a smile. “I look forward to working with you once again.”

“Thanks.” I watch Labashi fade away before I glance at Katherine. “Who’s next?”

“The Crystal Clans,” Katherine says with a smile. “Their representative is waiting.”

“Sorry, took longer than I expected.”

“It is fine. I arranged for a crafting station to be moved in.”

“Umm…” I consider then shrug. Ah hell, it worked, didn’t it? “Send them in.”

This negotiation, thankfully, is a lot simpler. The Crystal Clans are mostly an Artisan Guild, so beyond getting a small force added to the rotation for safeguarding the city of Kelowna, we just need to work out their rent, training, and the percentage discount for purchases from the settlement. They aren’t looking for anything special and we don’t need anything special—just help and a place that’s willing to farm out quests on a regular basis. With a transportation system in place and Kim handling the administration, we could even extend some of their quests to people in other settlements.

“Next,” I say to Katherine when the door closes.

“That, I believe, would be me,” a voice calls from the door.

I look up, blinking as I see a very pretty elf. Long blond hair is swept backward to uncover pointed ears, startlingly blue eyes, and an easy smile. Lean and thin, he lounges against the door in a relaxed manner. Boy next door charm crossed with male model looks.

“And who are you?” As if I couldn’t guess.

“Wynn a Maro. I represent the Burning Leaves,” Wynn says with a bow, smiling slightly. “I hope I’m not intruding by entering.”

“No.” I wave him forward. I could get grumpy about him coming in before we asked for it, but that kind of pettiness isn’t my thing. Anyway, I’ve got enough reasons to be grumpy with the Burning Leaves, including the use of an aura the last time round.

Wynn a Maro, Spider Slayer (Level 38 Fell Ranger)

HP: 2110/2110

MP: 2080/2080

Conditions: None

“That’s an Advanced Class, isn’t it?” I send to Ali.

“Yup. Be careful, boy-o. I don’t think he’s here to kill you, but he hasn’t talked to you yet.”

“Funny.”

“Good. Otherwise I’d have to get another present as an apology,” Wynn says as he walks forward then stops, a hand twitching as he pulls something from his inventory.

A moment later, he’s holding a simple, silver-looking box with a crest made of stylized glyphs I can’t read. The glyphs are closer to Egyptian hierographics than Arabic letters, which makes it all kinds of pretty and unintelligible. The sudden, indrawn breath from Ali, on the other hand, is quite interesting.

“What’s that?” I say, eyes narrow. Automatic manners have me standing up since he’s neared me, which also means I’m more mobile in case that case is something dangerous.

“An apology for my predecessor’s actions,” Wynn says, bowing his head slightly.

“Take it.”

I use both hands to take hold of the gift, flip it open with a thumb, and am surprised to see a simple chain necklace inside. On closer inspection, each ring on the chain seems to be inscribed with many of the same glyphs as the box. Frowning, I pick up the necklace and wait for Ali to provide me the information.

Brumwell Necklace of Shadow Intent

The Brumwell necklace of shadow intent is the hallmark item of the Brumwell Clan. Enchanted by a Master Crafter, this necklace layers shadowy intents over your actions, ensuring that information about your actions is more difficult to ascertain. Ownership of such an item is both a necessity and a mark of prestige among settlement owners and other individuals of power.

Effect: Persistent effect of Shadow Intent (Level 4) results in significantly increased cost of purchasing information from the System about wearer. Effect is persistent for all actions taken while necklace is worn.

“Those things are rare. We’re talking tens of millions of Credits to purchase one, and this is a Level 4 enchantment. Not the rarest, but not cheap.”

“Thank you,” I say. Even if Wynn says this is a gift of apology, I know there are strings attached to such an expensive and overt gift. But like the elf—sorry, the Movana—probably knew, this is a gift I can’t turn down.

“Not at all. My predecessor’s actions were unaccountably rude. To use his abilities in a negotiation is not how our Guild would want this matter handled,” Wynn says.

“True. Why was he allowed to conduct such discussions anyway?” I ask.

“Ah. Politics. His family has certain pull in our Guild.”

“Har. And you?”

“I’m one too. But I’m competent,” Wynn says, eyes dancing with humor.

“Even so. This is an expensive gift,” I say as I close the box. As much as I want to put it on now, I can wait till I have it properly identified by the Shop. He might seem nice, but I won’t trust him off the bat just because he’s tall and pretty. Also, I’d like to see if I can get it altered so that I don’t have to wear a necklace. I hate having things around my neck. “Seems a little much for a Guild building in a small town.”

“How much do you know of my Guild?” Wynn asks instead of answering my unasked question.

“Not much.”

“Well then, perhaps I can be allowed to enlighten you a bit,” Wynn says whilst inclining his head toward the chairs.

I take the hint and sit down, gesturing for him to do so. Once we’re comfortably seated, he continues while Katherine goes to get us a fresh pot of tea.

“The Burning Leaves are a Tier II guild. While we accept most applications to join the Guild, we started and are mainly based in Movana territory. In fact, many of our members are closely related to members within the Movana royalty,” Wynn says.

“Good for you,” I mutter, still unsure what’s the point of this discussion.

“At the same time, your previous dealings and relationship with the Truinnar are known. Few have fought the Weapon Master and lived to tell the tale,” Wynn continues. “But it is in consideration of those matters that we are interested in yourself.”

“Like your stories, the Truinnar and Movana are differing portions of the same race, split when the groups left for the stars. The actual shade of skin of the Truinnar is due to a genetic modification to separate themselves from their cousins. Earth itself is in Truinnar space, which is the larger of the pair of empires,” Ali fills in for me.

“Let me get this straight. You gave me a really nice gift because you want to establish relations with me. Because you’re jealous of Roxley?” I frown. Such a line of reasoning seems just short of insane to me. Which is why I’m probably missing the point.

“Not jealousy. A maneuver to curtail Truinnar influence on this world. Your lands are the closest to the Duchess’s, which makes them strategically important. And then there’s you, Redeemer. Or is it Monster Bane? Or Duelist?” I frown again, and Wynn smiles. “Few have managed to gain so many titles without a higher Class. Even fewer are thrice-titled, especially in such a short timeframe.”

I grunt, shaking my head. A lot of my titles—Monster Bane and Duelist—are cheats. Since I was still progressing from one tier to the next, the System registered me as only having forty-three Levels, instead of what should be about double that. It means that those titles, while earned through blood, are nowhere as “true” as someone else’s. But I’m sure Wynn knows that, which makes his interest puzzling in a way.

“If you’re looking at hindering the Truinnar, won’t owning settlements be better?” I ask.

“Ugh, you’re embarrassing me, boy-o.”

“THERE ARE CURRENTLY TWENTY-THREE MOVANA SETTLEMENTS IN AFRICA, CENTERED AROUND EAST AFRICA. A MAP OF SUCH SETTLEMENTS HAS BEEN UPLOADED TO YOUR DATA FILES.”

“Well, the Guild is not part of the Kingdom,” Wynn says. “And as you know, we are not allowed to own settlements.”

“But you’re allowed to have Guild Buildings in other settlements,” I say slowly, realizing what he is alluding to. The Guild is as “independent” as a twenty-year-old who still lives at home and doesn’t pay rent to his parents. They’re still going to dictate a portion of his life, whether he likes it or not. So accepting the Guild into my settlements is a double-edged sword. It’ll piss off Roxley and the Truinnar, but potentially put me in the good graces of the Movanna. Or at the least, give them a direct and obvious way to spy on me. I tap the box after a second. “I take it your Guild didn’t pay for this then.”

“No.”

“Ah…” I sigh, tapping the gift. Then there are a lot more strings to this gift than I assumed. “Why tell me all this?”

“Because I feel it’s better to be clear about our objectives before we begin negotiation.”

“Don’t think it’d help your cause to hide it?”

“Not in the long run. And I—we—wish to ensure that this is a long-term relationship.”

I grunt, leaning back. Ah hell. For all the potential problems, they’re the only Tier II guild to make an offer, one that has significant enough reserves to make full use of our dungeon. We need them—their people, their Credits. If we can get a good deal…

“All right, talk.”

“Are you certain that Ms. Pearson and the AI will be sufficient for this negotiation?” Katherine says when we’ve shown Wynn out.

“Lana will be fine. They’ve got a framework of what we want in place.” In fact, I’ve mentioned to Lana that I’m willing to let them have both North Vancouver and Kamloops, if the price is right. “Who’s next?”

“Damian.”

“Show him in.” I sigh. This should be fun.

“You know, boy-o, you’ve gotten nearly as boring as my former Companion. And all he did was sit around reading all day.”

“Trust me, I’m not impressed either.”

Our mutual bitching about my life of meetings and talking comes to an end as Damian walks in. The ex-scavenger, ex-rebel, now bureaucrat leader like me seems slightly more harried than the last time I saw him. After a few quick greetings and pleasantries, we get down to business.

“My people are growing concerned about their safety. They’ve been having to deal with more and more monster attacks recently,” Damian says. “They’re also complaining about a significant drop in their income.”

“THOSE EARMARKED AS SCAVENGERS HAVE SEEN A TOTAL LOSS OF REVENUE OF 9% IN THE LAST MONTH WITH AN AVERAGE DECREASE OF 318.64 CREDITS PER INDIVIDUAL. THIS IS BASED OFF A DECREASE IN TRANSACTION VOLUME OF 2.81%.”

I stare at the notification, processing the data. “And what do you want from me?”

“More guards. We also want a timeline of when we can expect the other suburbs to be transformed into full-fledged towns.”

“Well…” I shake my head. I’m so not answering that one since I don’t have a good idea myself. “From the information I’ve got, it doesn’t look like it’s an issue of monsters or what you’re bringing back so much as a drop in your selling prices.” As Damian opens his mouth, I raise my hand. “Let me see if I have this right. Your men—sorry, people—are bringing in the same number of items, but demand’s fallen off. At the same time, they’ve had to go farther and farther out because nearby residences have all been hit.”

Damian shuts his mouth before nodding slightly.

“Right. Well, here’s the thing. You guys are either going to have accept it or change your occupation,” I say. “As more and more people Level and get Credits through their Skills and occupations, the demand for scavenged items is going to continue dropping. It won’t take long before inter-galactic tradeliners arrive, and then your market is really going to crash. Change now or change later, but you’re in a losing game.”

“Did you tell me and my people to suck it up and deal?” Damian’s eyes bulge, a little heat appearing in his voice.

“Yes,” I say, then consider. “What we can do is provide career counseling and advice. Purchasing the AI with the skills necessary to do the analysis isn’t that expensive. If we pick out a few buildings, we can spread the locations around the city.”

“Job retraining,” Damian says, disgust in his voice.

“Counseling. No one’s going to hold their hands,” I say, leaning forward. “Your people aren’t cowards, but they’ve gotten used to an easy way of life, of low risk and a decent amount of Credits. But things change, and they’re going to have to change.”

“And that’s it? That’s what you want me to go back to them with?” Damian says, anger thrumming through his voice.

“Yes. They can either change now and be ready for the future, or we can prop them up for a few months, maybe a year or two, and then have it all pulled out from under them. This world of Levels, it gives us a ton of options. But you have to be willing to take them.”

“So you want them to fight? Be like your Hakarta and Yerrick friends? Run your dungeon like everyone else?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t want anything from them. I’m just telling you how things are. They can decide to delve or change their Classes or hell, keep doing what they’re doing. It’s up to them. I’m just saying we’re not going to subsidize them or provide anything else.”

“This is unacceptable.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Anything else?”

“We’re not done speaking about this yet!” Damian almost shouts, fist hammering into the table so hard he cracks it.

“Yes, we are. Now you can move on to another topic or you can leave.”

When Damian gets out a short while later, Katherine is giving me the stink-eye.

“Do you think I’m wrong?”

“In what you said? No. In how you said it? Definitely,” Katherine says.

“It was the truth. A necessary truth.”

“But you could have been kinder.”

A feeling of déjà vu, a memory of a previous conversation. One between myself and my father, Katherine taking my place as I find myself echoing my father as he explained my lack of talent while I decried his tone.

“If I was kinder, he might refuse the truth of my words, holding himself to the tone rather than the intent. He can hate me, but at least he’ll have heard me.”

There’s something in her eyes when I say that, something I can’t understand. For a moment, I wonder if she knows why I said what I did, but then I dismiss the thought. Women can’t read minds—that’s just a fallacy.

“I’ll have Lana speak with him later then,” Katherine says instead.

I open my mouth to protest but decide against it. Having Lana soften the blow a little while reminding him of the truth is probably the best of both worlds. Good cop, bad cop at its best. “Who’s next?”

“We have the delvers.”

I groan, knowing what they want. I’m surprised they’re coming together, but at least their topic of conversation is known. They’ll want to discuss the Guild spot, their concerns about being pushed out, and of course, push for some benefits for themselves. It’s annoying, because the Guild could do us a ton of good, with quests and a ready market for our goods, but they’ll complain and bitch as if they don’t know all that just to get a little leeway. And even if I can push most of this to Lana and Kim as the negotiating parties, they still want to make sure I get my share of it too.

And sadly, I can’t tell them to bugger off. Because as much as it is politics, they might actually have a point somewhere in there that I haven’t thought of. Thankfully, today’s the last of my meeting days. After today, I’ll be mostly ready for my trip.

“Then let’s get this over with.”

“John,” Lana says softly after pulling away from the kiss the next morning.

“Mmmm…?” I say as I try to re-engage my brain. That was one heck of a goodbye kiss…

“Port me to Vancouver?” Lana says.

“Oh. Right.” I blink, waving to open the Portal.

The moment it does, Roland slips in, the only one to accompany us to Kamloops last night.

“And, John, stay safe,” Lana says, giving me one last hug before stepping away.

I watch her departing figure, sighing before shutting the inky blackness. “Now then, what next?”

“Mr. Lee!” a voice calls so loudly that it pierces the walls of the house we’re in.

When I turn, I blink and stare at KC through the living room windows, the Gunsmith struggling down the walkway with a pair of large metal boxes.

“KC.” I nod to the lady, glancing at the boxes as I open the front door.

“Ammo! I finally… ummm… worked through the… well, blueprints. Mostly have them in sold casings, but I, uh… well. I finished these two last night. Hollow points,” KC says, flushing under scrutiny and holding up the cases.

“Oh. Thank you!” I blink, taking them from her and storing them in my Altered Space. Before I can say anything further, KC’s pulling out even more cases from her inventory, dumping case after case on the ground. “How many did you make?”

“I, uhhh… lost track,” KC says ashamedly. “I was, ummm… Leveling so much that well…”

“You got carried away,” I finish for her, and she nods. “Well, no matter. I’m sure I can use it. Did you get the rest… ah, I see they’re here.” I nod, staring at the various other boxes, each carefully labeled. Boxes of explosives, marked and stored, make their appearance. “Just send me the bill. I’ll get it paid now.”

KC bobs her head quickly, and a moment later, a small notification pops up. I don’t even bother looking at the details, just glancing at the final amount and sending the Credits over, letting Kim handle the inventory issues. While he (it? her?) won’t be useful once we leave the settlement, for small tasks like these, he’s even faster than Ali.

“INVENTORY IS MISSING TWO HIGH-EXPLOSIVE MINES AND CURRENTLY HAS ONE EXTRA WHITE PHOSPHOROUS INCIDINERARY GRENADE. ALSO, THERE IS A PACKAGE THAT IS LABELED TO YOU DIRECTLY. I HAVE ASSESSED THAT THERE IS A LOW THREAT RISK AND HAVE NOT INVESTIGATED ITS CONTENTS.”

“Let her know by notification. No biggies.”

“Thanks again. You and your people,” I say. “Anything I should know?”

“Ummm… no… We’ve had a few visits from Artisans from other cities—villages? Towns?—uhh…”

“Cities is fine. I understand what you mean,”

“Right. Ummm… so, yes. They’ve been interested in… well, us… it’s been fun. One of the, umm… visitors was an… interior designer. Upped our efficiency by 1.6%!”

“That’s good.” I nod. “Nice speaking with you, KC.”

With one last nod, I pop open another Portal and step through. Time to get to work.

Since I can only open Portals to places I’ve visited—and only within a range of a 1,000 KM of me—I have a bit of a journey to make. While we debated having some of the team accompany me, between Sabre and my ability to Blink Step and open Portals, I should be relatively safe. Of course, I promised to drag my friends to me if things look dangerous and I was still in range, but none of us expect that. At least till Edmonton.

British Columbia during the height of summer is alternately beautiful sunshine and occasional days of rain. Up north where we’re going, the rainforest gives way to more desert-like terrain before changing again. Lucky for me, it’s mostly sunshine right now, which means traveling along the weather-beaten roads is satisfactory. It does make me wonder what we should do about upkeep—now that I own a bunch of settlements in the province, trade between settlements is slowly picking up. Outside of the main towns, I’ve avoided taking control of settlements unless it’s been requested, just because I don’t want the additional responsibility. Surprisingly, that’s happened more than once, especially since we have started regular patrols. As much as I might not want to be the local government, we seem to be falling into that role more and more.

Right now, between the lack of on-going transportation and the monster problems, trade caravans are done in an unscheduled, slipshod matter. And while the nitpicky part of me wants to get involved, the lazy part of me points out that this is what the capitalist economy is meant for. Let someone else who wants to earn the Credits organize things.

However, the roads are my problem. That’s what the government is for, after all—dealing with resources and projects that make no sense for an individual to undertake. That’s why we had governments in the first place—from the mayor of a village, who decided who and when people got to use the common grounds for breeding, to the United Nations, which had helped reduce world hunger and diseases. Still, like any government, I’ll admit, that last part is a bit shaky since the UN isn’t really a government technically, but whatever. The point is, we organise because we need to.

Unfortunately, I have to contend with that most limiting of factors—scarce resources. Putting Credits and manpower into building the roads and warding them meant I couldn’t buy land in the Villages. Focus on upgrading individual Villages and I’d miss the opportunity of upgrading Vancouver from Town to Large Town. Not purchasing specialized buildings means we aren’t taking advantage or encouraging specific economies. In Whitehorse, the introduction of the Arborator had provided employment and Credits for a ton of people, increasing our efficiency further. Could I afford to shift our focus from things like that to work on something like roads? Then again, could I neglect trade?

Thoughts like this carry me from Grand Prairie to Edmonton. I could have gone north and east from Kamloops, but that would have put me through a provincial park. And those, from experience, are a tough row to hoe. Not that I shouldn’t visit one, but right now, speed is more important than Levels.

Still, for all my desire for speed, I make the time to pop open Portals for those who need it. Small towns. Individuals unlucky enough to be caught in the middle of nowhere and yet lucky enough to still be alive. Groups of survivors swept up and thrown back into civilization. I have to admit, there’s a certain satisfaction in helping them all, even if it slows me down.

In time, forests and rolling hills—and a few mountains—give way to flat prairies. The sky opens up, making me both relax from the ease of picking out dangers and tense from being so exposed. No more mountains, no more shade, just the eye in the sky and the rolling plains that were once part of some farmer’s land. By the time I hit the prairies proper, the number of individuals I find diminishes to nothing, the survivors most likely having made their way to Edmonton.

Like most prairie cities, Edmonton doesn’t really “start” with a fixed boundary; you just find yourself rolling in where more and more buildings make themselves known. Abandoned, discarded, broken down, and bloody, residences and strip malls merge into office buildings. And then there’s a wall made of grey concrete and cinder blocks, built by Skill and Credits. And towers that host beam turrets and, perhaps most startling of all, a single man waiting for me.

“Howdy, stranger,” the man calls, cowboy hat, plaid shirt, and cowboy boots set against a pair of guns slung low on his hips and a shotgun cradled in his arms. “That’s about far enough.”

“Howdy? Goblin’s arse. I didn’t get any tobacco!” Ali chimes in, shifting his clothing to mock the stranger.

I’m too busy to answer the Spirit though, as I study the man before me.

Blair Kendall, the Rock of Edmonton (Level 28 Battle Seer)

HP: 3680/3680

MP: 2110/2110

Conditions: None

Holy shit. That’s an Advanced Level. He literally has the highest Level I’ve seen on a human. While he isn’t the highest Level human on Earth—I checked, and there’s some cheat Level character at Advanced 38—he’s the highest in Canada as far as I know. And probably explains why Edmonton has managed to stay independent.

“Afternoon,” I say while getting off Sabre slowly. I keep my hands well in sight, not wanting him to get any ideas.

“Nice ride there. Mind telling us why you’re visiting this little town of ours? Don’t get many strangers these days,” Blair says, a hand coming up to absently rub at a close-cut, curly beard.

“Passing through. Maybe a little scouting. Maybe a little chat with the people in charge.”

“Really. You’re pretty well stocked and armed for someone just passing through. Redeemer of the Dead,” Blair says.

I sigh. I really, really, hate that title sometimes. “Well, colour me surprised to have the Rock of Edmonton greet me. Now, if we’re done measuring each other, perhaps you can show me where an inn or empty residence is? Preferably one with a working hot shower? Cleanse spells work, but well, I’ve been on the road for a bit now.”

“We aren’t done,” Blair says. “I’m not letting a potential threat into my city.”

“Your city?” I raise an eyebrow, mentally prodding Ali.

“Can’t tell, boy-o. You can infer ownership, but you can’t actually tell. It’s one of the rules instituted by the Council in… blah blah blah year after owners kept getting assassinated. You can buy the events around a transfer, but they don’t show up on Status screens anymore.”

Ah. That’s useful. For me. Somewhat. Maybe.

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

Quest Received—Clear the Plains

A new plains dungeon has appeared near the city of Edmonton. You have been tasked with clearing the dungeon and destroying the Boss. Doing so will gain the favor of the Rock of Edmonton.

Reward: Entry to the town of Edmonton

Accept (Y/N)

“Really?” I grumble, staring at the quest information and the resulting marker.

“Yes.” Without another word, Blair walks back through the open gates, which shut behind him. Someone has the flair for the dramatic.

“Scout ahead, will you? Let’s get this garbage done.”

Nice thing about having access to an entire armory’s worth of explosives is that when you’re feeling particularly lazy, it’s a simple enough matter to overuse them. Since all the explosives were made by individual crafters, all of them are System-registered. With the help of my drones and a liberal application of explosives, clearing the dungeon doesn’t even require me to crawl through the tunnels.

I do wonder how he would have expected me to handle this if I hadn’t had my drones. After all, the tunnels themselves were barely larger than a man’s torso in most points. At times, they were significantly smaller. The only regret I have—and it’s a mild regret—is that I won’t get any Loot from all this. Even with the sheer volume of explosives, I could have looted the scattered remains if I had been willing to crawl in.

As it stands, the only loot I received were the hides of the dungeon Boss and his minions when they swarmed up and out of the earth at my continued provocations. Sitting at just above Level 30, the dungeon Boss didn’t take much to deal with, though his trick of sinking me halfway into the earth was interesting. Having an evolved gopher with shark teeth trying to eat my face from inches away was a new and unpleasant experience. It said something about my life that that didn’t even make it into the top hundred nightmares.

When I get the quest update notification, I make my way to the town as fast as I can. Maybe I should research a lava flow or napalm spell, something I could use to flood passageways next time.

The Rock of Edmonton is waiting for me again when I roll up to the wall as twilight falls.

“All done then, are we?” Blair drawls.

“Yes. Now can I go in for a bath?”

“Follow me,” Blair says, leading the way into the city. Within the city, a horse waits for him, which he straddles with practiced ease.

“Really?” I say, shaking my head. “A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“How did you get around, right after the change?” Blair says caustically.

I think back to my mad scramble down the mountain and shut up. Horses are practical and fast and this one at least looks as though its achieved some form of symbiosis with the System. Or else it’s just naturally a really pretty horse. I’ll admit, I’ve become inured to big animals after hanging out with Lana.

You have entered the Town of Edmonton

This is a safe zone. Contains:

A Shop

City Center

Armory

Adventurer’s Guild

More…

“You have a Guild already?” I say, an eyebrow rising. That was fast. I mean, sure, Carcross had one before Whitehorse, but I’m still surprised they’ve achieved so much so fast.

All around us, the buildings slowly transform, growing higher as we make our way downtown on PAV and horse.

“Yup. They’ve been real helpful, they have,” Blair drawls. “I hear you just struck a deal with a crafter group for one of your settlements.”

“My…” My eyes tighten before I snort. “You were using the time the quest bought you to look me up.”

“I thought that necklace made things harder for people to buy information on me?” I ask Ali.

“For previous actions. And it doesn’t count if the Guild puts out a press release.”

“They did what!?!”

“Recruiting material, boy-o.” I can hear the exasperation in Ali’s mental voice.

“Seemed fair. There’s quite a bit of information out there on you, for cheap, Redeemer. At least until a few months ago. Then, the information gets a lot more expensive. Be curious to hear how you did that.”

“Har.” I shake my head, somewhat embarrassed at being called out on it directly. It’s not a time that I like to think about directly. Still, of all my titles, that one I earned fair and square, doing something few would have done. Not during the aftermath of an apocalypse at least. It’s a strange title, I’ll admit, and I’m still uncertain why the System gave it to me. Not the why of the action, but the greater why of how it chose. “Looks like you owe me a story then. Rock.”

“Not much to tell, not to someone like you. It came to me probably the same way you earned your other titles,” Blair says. “In blood and tears, in front of a smoking gun, over the corpses of friends and foes alike.”

“Where we going? And are you going to let anyone else speak to me?” I say, having yet to see a single person since the gate guards.

“Not yet,” Blair says with a matter-of-fact honesty. “You’ll be staying with me until I decide you’re safe enough. Hard to trust people like you.”

I would say something about his confidence in dealing with me alone, but I knew that ever since the gate, we’d been shadowed by four individuals, all of them with Advanced Classes. Not as high as Blair, but considering Edmonton must have a finite number of Advanced Classers, I was rather flattered. Hell, even Vancouver didn’t have that many—though that was as much the Sect’s fault as anything.

A few more gambits at drawing a conversation out of Blair gets me nowhere, so I give up and content myself to being led to his house. When we arrive, I’m somehow not surprised to find that it’s a modest duplex. I am surprised by how slovenly the place is—while it’s clean, clothing and other bric-a-brac are strewn about everywhere.

“Bathroom’s upstairs, around the corner at the end of the hallway.”

I grunt in acknowledgement before heading up, sending Ali to keep an eye on Sabre. Soon enough, I’m downstairs again, greeted by a carnivore’s dream of a meal. Conversation at dinner is nearly non-existent, consisting of a lot of gurgled beer, moans of pleasure, and chewing. Without the ladies around, I find myself returning to my more slovenly eating habits, including licking my fingers with gusto. When we’re done, feet up and beers in hand, we get around to the real talk.

“You’re here to set up that Portal of yours, aren’t you?”

“Setting some waypoints, yes,” I say, clarifying matters a little. “Also to make sure you guys are doing okay. We’re in the midst of improving our own towns, and part of that is figuring out what kind of friends we might have.”

“And you think we’re friends?” Blair sips his beer, tilting his head to the side as he looks at me. Without his hat, he looks much less like a caricature and more like a very tired man.

“I think we could be.”

“Even if you’re in a state of war?”

“And you kicking out the Grey Company was all kinds of amiable? Way I read it, your fight was a close thing,” I say. “And you’ve got a lot fewer people now.”

“Not much for mincing words, are you? Thought you people were all kinds of polite.”

“If your town council wanted a diplomatic response, they wouldn’t have sent you,” I point out. Even if my Chinese origins are mostly gone physically after the gene therapy, he knows my background. And that you people was a damn dig if I had ever heard one. Strangely enough, I find myself not that angry – getting another redneck being casually racist was so far beneath my list of worries, it wouldn’t show up even in a thousand years. “And just as an FYI, I grew up in Vancouver.”

“Not Richmond? Hear it’s a little Asia there.”

“Not anymore.”

“Ah…” The not-so-subtle reminder of the apocalypse shuts him down. “We aren’t ready to cozy up to you, but we’re willing to talk.”

I grunt, leaning back and nodding. “Fair enough. But I’m only planning to be here for a few days. After that, well, I’ve got a city to visit.”

“Calgary.”

“Yes.”

Silence descends while we savor the beer and our slowly settling stomachs.

In time, Blair tilts his head, his voice a relaxed drawl. “Might be there are a few interested in helping out. Unofficial-like.”

“We’ll take any help we can. Unofficial-like.”

Silence returns, and this time, it doesn’t leave. I find myself relaxing, content to just sit, knowing there’s nothing more for me to do. Tomorrow, I’ll be talking to politicians and bureaucrats, finding out about the city and trying to put a good face on things. But today… well, today, I get to sit in silence and that’s fine enough with me. Blair might be tough, but he’s a bit of a racist dick.

Chapter 7

“Sure you won’t stay a little longer? I figure you almost have them,” Blair drawls, leaning over the saddle horn of his horse as I straddle Sabre.

It’s been three days since I’ve arrived in Edmonton, and while I’m still restricted in where I’m allowed to go, I’ve made some progress. It probably helped that we got hit by a swarm on the second day. The display of controlled violence I put on was particularly well received. But still…

“People are weird,” I say, shaking my head. “And I’m on a timetable.”

Blair snorts but nods agreeably. A moment later, a five-foot, two-seventy-something man rides up on his bicycle, a rifle slung over his shoulder, a bicycle helmet on his head.

“Rufus,” I greet the man, who flashes me a grin.

“He’ll get you as deep as he safely can. But the rest is up to you,” Blair says, rubbing his chin. “I still ain’t sure about this plan…”

“Good thing it’s not up to you then.” I flash Blair a grin.

He shakes his head and waves us off.

The journey south from Edmonton is simple enough to handle, especially with a Messenger as my guide. I find it slightly amusing when Rufus explains that he used to be a postal worker, which resulted in him receiving the Class. Thank god I didn’t get a class called “Website Designer” or I’d really be screwed.

Rufus does his job well, leading me to Calgary with nary a problem that can’t be solved with a liberal application of violence. From there, he guides me to the current headquarters of the humans in the city—an abandoned furniture warehouse. Since I have his company, we get through their security checkpoints with a minimum of trouble, which is nice, since I played that game already in Edmonton.

That’s the thing I should have realized—Edmonton and Calgary have been working together for the last little while. It’s a partial explanation of why both parties have managed to hold out as long as they have—in fact, Edmonton’s state is partly due to the sacrifice of a number of Calgarians according to Rufus.

“Yo, this is John Lee. He’s from BC and just bounced from Edmonton, where he stayed with Blair. Blair says, and I quote, he’s ‘an okay sort for a slit-eyed fucker,’” Rufus says, looking somewhat uncomfortable saying those words. Truth be told, I’m not sure if it’s the swearing or the racial slur.

On the other hand, at least the introduction has the trio in the command room give me somewhat favorable nods. One is a First Nations man in his fifties with close-cropped hair and wearing Adventurer chic—an armored jumpsuit and holsters for pistols and knives. The second is a twenty-something weedy man who looks as if he needs a meal or three and a pair of glasses to go with his shirt and pants ensemble. The last is a Nordic blonde of the older persuasion. Her extremely tight blouse, artfully undone one button too much across an ample bosom, screams cougar. It doesn’t help that she certainly has the Charisma for it. Committed as I am to Lana, I can’t help but check her out.

“Mr. Lee, you’re from Vancouver then?” Trevor Badger, the First Nations elder, says after we exchange quick greetings.

“Among other settlements, yes.” I nod to him, a part of me wondering which tribe he’s a part of. After a moment, I dismiss that thought as unimportant to our current situation. Anyway, it’s not as if I’d remember a fact like that. I’d be lucky to remember any of their names by the end of this meeting, if not for Ali and the Status screens.

“Are you here to lend us help?” Donna Luff murmurs. I have to admit, her “Rachel” haircut suits her, but the way she’s smiling has my guard up. That and her occupation of Lawyer. Having dealt with Labashi, I’m not a fan of the Contract Skill she most likely has.

“Pretty much. Sorry it took so long. We’ve had our own things to handle,” I say, grabbing a seat without asking. “Now, I’ve got some ideas, but perhaps you’d care to fill me in. It’s been a little over a week and a half since I’ve had access to a Shop.”

“You didn’t…” Donna says, trailing off since the answer was obvious. No, Edmonton didn’t give me access to their Shops. All of them were connected to City Cores. “Well, we can certainly fix that. But maybe, Charles?”

Charles grunts, leaning forward, his voice as weedy and thin as him. “Well, I can give a wide overview, but of course details will take more time. Here’s where we are…”