Life in the North: An Apocalyptic LitRPG

Alvarez nods. Upon spotting the still-lingering boxes, he strides away to have a quiet chat with the poor lieutenant in charge of storing the products. Rather than watch them, I lean back and chill for now. It’s going to be a long night of shuttling people back and forth as my Mana regenerates.

The next morning, I’m called into the newly restructured situation room, a place now filled with paper maps, floating blue System notification screens, projected maps of the surroundings, and more esoteric lines of information. A few people are in here, working and watching the screens, but I’m led straight to the main table where the general and Wier stand.

“Morning, gents,” I greet the tired-looking pair and their surrounding aides.

“Mr. Lee,” Miller says, inclining his head slightly in greeting. Wier follows with his own greeting. “We received some disturbing news late last night.”

“Oh…?”

“The Zarrie Kingdom in LA has received a large batch of reinforcements of Jaracks. Current estimates put it at a full brigade, but we’re still verifying data,” Miller informs me.

“Jarack?”

“You humans have them translated as were-jackals. Which is weird because they don’t actually transform,” Ali clarifies.

“What’s their force composition now of Advanced and Master Classes?” I say with a frown.

“Total combat Classes show three low Level Master Classes and forty-three Advanced Classes spread between Los Angeles and its surroundings,” Miller replies. “As you know, they had just over two-thirds of their numbers deployed against Camp Pendleton. That allowed the other resistance cells in Los Angeles to continue fighting. But with the reinforcements, we expect the balance of power to change drastically.”

The marines in Camp Pendleton and the various other members of the armed forces have done a stellar job—out-Leveled as they’ve been, they’ve refused to back down and have kept up a string of harassing attacks. Once they Leveled up enough, they even managed to get a few of their old toys, like their tanks and artillery, back in action. So much so that the Zarrie have had to keep a significant armed presence near their borders to contain the marines.

While a Master Class is powerful—scarily so—I’m given to understand that the marines have shown a willingness to trade a lot of lives for a kill. It’s that willingness that allowed them to chalk up a Master Class kill and just over a dozen Advanced Classers. Swarm tactics aren’t uncommon—it’s why I didn’t get a world first for killing a Master Class individual on Earth. It’s also why most Advanced and Master Class individuals have escape Skills and spells on hand, but surprise and arrogance can often disarm even the best prepared. Levels help ensure that there’s a significant weight to the entire quality argument, but quantity still has a quality of its own. And no Kingdom is willing to lose a Master Class just to kill a few hundred Basics.

“Sounds like time’s running out,” I say, staring at the map and the small markers on the board. Amusingly enough, I think I understood the Seattle mages’ map better than this more “professional” one. But in the end, the truth they impart is the same. “You need me to speed up and head south now.”

“Yes,” Miller says, his head coming up. “Once you provide them the settings for our communication formation, we’ll be able to support one another with greater ease. We should also be able to achieve real-time communication between our two bases.”

“Are we changing the plan then? Go wide to reach Pendleton rather than through the city to create waypoints?” I ask. That was the initial plan. Between my stealth skills and the new Shrunken Footprints Skill, I should be able to sneak into the city itself. Due to the constant fighting, the areas around LA don’t have stable settlement shields that I have to concern myself about.

“Yes.” Wier traces a path south, elaborating on the challenges I can expect to face as best as they know.

I settle in to listen and ask some questions, though as always, I’ll make my own decisions when it gets right down to it. Being the man on the bike, that’s my responsibility. Still, in the back of my mind, I worry that all this talking means more lives are being lost.

“Major.” I greet Alvarez when he walks up, followed by a squad—I hope that’s the right term. A bunch of soldiers anyway—in a squat military machine with a big cannon on it seen in way too many Hollywood movies.

“Mr. Lee.” Alvarez nods to me. “The members of Staff Sargent Johnson’s squad will be following you. Their orders are to ensure that you make it to Camp Pendleton and to aid in the verification of your identity. That is, of course, secondary to the verification documents and passphrases you’ve been provided with.”

I grunt, recalling the rather specific talk Alvarez had with me after this morning’s meeting. He’d been particularly pedantic about it, ensuring that I recalled everything word for word and in the right order before he let me go. Luckily, a stupidly high Intelligence meant that when and if I concentrated, small things like that were easy to memorize. And I have to admit, I cheated and recorded the information in my helmet just in case.

“That going to last? Things are going to get rough,” I say, glancing at the vehicle. Even if they’ve changed out the engines to make it run, the fact stands that most vehicles made pre-System aren’t strong enough to take a solid whacking. Heck, I recall a particularly exuberant five-year-old putting a dent in an abandoned vehicle back in Whitehorse.

“This particular vehicle has been rebuilt entirely by our Machinists,” Alvarez answers, glancing at the vehicle with some pride before looking at me. “It will suffice. Staff Sargent Johnson and his team have most recently traveled the road you’re on, so please make sure to listen to them.”

“All right, let’s go,” I say and twist Sabre’s throttle. The bike slides forward without a sound, rolling out of the gates.

It’s only a few minutes later that I realize I forgot to actually talk to the sargent. Oops…

On the shorter route, it’s just under two hundred miles from Fort Irwin to Camp Pendleton. On a good day, that’d be a three hour or so drive, maybe less depending on traffic. Now, with monsters, destroyed roads, hostile settlements, and insane environmental factors, that three-hour drive could easily take a whole day. And we’re taking the long way around, cutting away from Los Angeles to swing by Joshua Tree National Park, Palm Springs, and the Cleveland National Forest. Any of those areas could easily force us to take much longer than a single day if we wanted to do this quietly.

Unfortunately, the option of doing things quietly has gone the way of the Zarrie reinforcements, and so we’re just going to do it fast. In a short period after we leave the base, the Humvee overtakes me to take point, kicking up dust while a pair of tiny drones fly overhead to provide overwatch. Neither of those are anywhere as good as Ali, but I don’t tell them that. Wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings.

We swing off the highway more than once, often because there isn’t a highway left, the pavement destroyed by fights or just the movement of a monster. In one case, the footprints are so large and reptilian that it seems as if the Midwest is about to be hit by a herd of immigrating kaiju. Off-road, we have to slow down, rolling up and over barren hills, dealing with sudden bogs and hidden monsters.

Palm Springs was once a resort town for the big Hollywood elites, a place where you could commonly see withered, old rich folk and Hollywood starlets within the same day. It had been pretentious, brown, and filled with marble, an oasis of rich snobbery and transplanted plants.

“Five hundred Credits per person.” The green-polo-shirt, white-shorts-wearing tanned Golfer grins at us, his titular clubs slung across his shoulder.

He and his friends found us as we tried to swing around the settlement, not wanting to stop at a human-owned place. A quick glance at their Levels shows that they’re a mix of mid 40s to low 30s, a weird assortment of Classes ranging from pure combat to well, Golfers.

I lipread Polo Shirt’s words as I stay behind the Humvee, Johnson having indicated that he’s in charge of this negotiation.

“We letting them shake us down?” I mutter to the soldier sent to babysit me.

He’s got his head on a swivel, checking behind us for potential problems, trusting his friends to do the same in their own zones of responsibility. I’m doing the same too, sort of. Ali is double-checking and verifying information on the sensor maps while I look around with my own eyes.

“We have an agreement with the settlement,” the soldier says out of the corner of his mouth. “We pay them for passage; they leave us alone.”

“They that tough to take down?”

“Not in my experience,” he says. “But I just follow orders.”

I grunt, watching as Johnson pays for our passage and gets a briefing on the most recent movements by our mutual enemies. Patrol routes, schedules, and sightings of new enemies are all part of the report. I have to admit, the information is useful, even if I’m not thrilled by the idea of being extorted. When we get back on the road, I find myself asking Johnson about the situation.

“The owner of Palm Springs is not particularly friendly with us. We’ve come to an agreement that allows us passage through their areas, but it’s tenuous.”

“Why do you let them stay?” I frown, considering the distances between Palm Springs and the base. It’d certainly give the base access to a Shop, which I know they badly need.

“They’re an American settlement,” Johnson says with a grunt. "Our job is to protect them, not forcibly conscript their lands.”

“Ah… politics,” I say.

I’m not entirely sure I agree with the general’s decision, but then again, I’m not a soldier. Living your whole life believing you need to keep the very people who are being piss-ass annoyances alive must create some kind of mental dissonance. It doesn’t help that these citizens can and probably will do significant damage in any fight. In the end, I’m just a helpful visitor here. While I like to think of myself as a citizen of the world, that’s less likely to be a viewpoint that’s agreed upon by the Americans. So all I can do is keep quiet and take it for what is.

The last few hours of our trip are a slow, agonizing process. Under the cover of Ali’s abilities and the Skills of a pair of the soldiers, we sneak in past the fluid battle lines surrounding Camp Pendleton. With such a large area to cover, the Zarrie can only use roving patrols, droids, and fixed sensor grids to keep watch. Unfortunately for them, all of those can easily be subverted, given enough time, patience, and Skill.

The Zarrie patrols are a mixture of desert-themed creatures. The Jarack reinforcements are jackal-faced humanoids with fur on their bodies and equipped with a mixture of high-tech and melee weapons. They act as the main frontline of the Zarrie while being covered by large, carapace-laden heavies who tote around oversized beam weapons and physical shields. Mixed in among that group are smaller, dog-sized creatures with a shiny, sac-like back that can spit out an acidic-poisonous mixture. Lastly, each patrol has a metallic, vehicular aid—whether airborne or ground—to provide AI-driven help. From what Ali tells me, they’re not the greatest help, but if you need to cart around corpses or scout out potential new problems, the drones did the job.

Mostly we try to avoid even seeing them, but while the information we’ve received is useful, it’s not complete, so we find ourselves hiding, trusting in our Skills and abilities as we sneak closer to our objective. Killing the patrols would be simple, but that would give away our position and if they decided to purchase more information, they’d know what we’re up to. In this case, secrecy is our shield. So we traverse mutated forests, destroyed roads, and deal with numerous bush fires, either trusting in our armor and Skills to keep us alive or swinging wide. It’s a hard call to make—sometimes those wild fires are fueled by Mana and System-enhanced plants, making them a danger even to me.

Again and again, we have to stop and start, our “short” journey lengthening as we swing around System-enhanced problems and the occasional firefight. Finally Johnson decides we’re close enough and makes contact with the base itself. After that, it’s just more waiting before we’re met by the marines and led in at a breakneck speed.

As we cross the barbed wire fences that surround the buildings, I find myself relaxing. Even if we’re still under guard, being surrounded by humans and the mostly theoretical safety of the walls is comforting. Johnson and his men relax too, especially as we cross deeper into the base itself. Though we’ve all heard of the fierce fighting that has occurred, there’s little on the base to indicate that, all the buildings in pristine condition due to the System. Nothing to indicate a problem, except the way the soldiers move and the edge they all hold. They’re like live weapons, ready to explode into action at any time. The obvious presence of the military police as we head deeper shows that this state of constant battle readiness has taken its toll on the personnel.

Once we’re in, I’m led to a secure bunker where I’m interrogated—nicely—by the guards. As check after check is passed, I find my tension ratcheting up once again. Soon, I’ll be meeting the man in charge and opening a Portal for Wier and Miller. And then we’ll really begin.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee. For allowing us to have this conversation,” Sanchez says, the Puerto Rican marine colonel offering me a smile. There’s an edge to the marine, a hardness and a lurking pain in his eyes and a coldness to his smile that reminds me not to underestimate the man.

“You’re welcome,” I answer before glancing toward Wier and Miller.

They too offer their thanks before we get down to the meat of the meeting. The uniformed men aren’t the only individuals present at this meeting. The usual suspects like the mages from Seattle, the Baristas, and of course Lana and Mikito, are all present. In addition, Labashi and a few members of the Adventurers Guilds we’ve begun to work with are here too. In Labashi’s case, he’s here to fill a contract with Wier. The Guilds are here to set up Quests for their members once we’ve decided upon a plan.

“Thank you for coming,” Miller states once everyone’s settled. In the center of the meeting room is a projection of California. “As you know, we must finish this fight before the Zarrie can reinforce further. Of the seventeen City Cores highlighted here, we must take seven for the first phase to be considered complete.

“Due to the significant amount of scrutiny placed upon our forces by the Zarrie, our plans of operations cannot be discussed in any detail. What we are here to discuss is the timeframe the attacks will be conducted under, the requirements that each force has to be ready, the chain of command, and what, if any, concerns you might have about the attack and your group’s involvement.”

It’s kind of amusing, listening to all this. I was in on the earlier conversation between the three, the long talk that Miller had with the other two army officers, along with my interjections, about the System and the Shop’s ability to extract information. Wier, having had more interactions with the Shop itself, was able to provide further information and even shared a few of the documents and books he’d purchased detailing military tactics formed in the presence of the System. The meeting we’re having now is the result of that earlier conversation. However, a bold statement like that, among us civilians, obviously doesn’t garner many points for Miller.

“You’re not telling us the plan?” Charles says, an edge to his voice.

“We’re just civilians, you know.” Kaylee, the Barista, shifts her tone to one parodying the military, almost barking her next words. “We aren’t trusted with things like planning or thinking. Civilians would just mess it up.”

“Har. We’ve cleared more cities than these army boys!”

Labashi watches, his lips pursed. He’s obviously clear on the why, while the Guilds don’t seem too perturbed. In fact, I catch a few smiles. Because of the vagueness of the plans, the resulting quests’ expenses will be high.

“You prefer they tell you the plan now and change it midway?” Lana says, the voice of reason as always. “Because if General Miller is right, and I’ll bet that he is, any plans he actually articulates, puts into writing, or otherwise communicates is open to purchasing. Now, there are Skills and technology to make it harder or at least more expensive to buy that information, but that’s more expensive, not impossible. So being kept in the dark is the best way forward.”

“And if General Miller is assassinated?” Laila asks from her chair. I’m amused that she’s in a sleeveless pantsuit, one that shows off her tightly toned arms.

She looks almost as delicious as the dark-chocolate aide who sits by her side, his arms shown off in a sleeveless vest. For a moment, I wonder if it’s just coincidence or a case of well-designed uniforms before I pull my attention back to Miller.

“The chain of command passes from General Miller to myself to Colonel Wier to Mr. Lee,” Sanchez answers, waving his fingers and flicking over a document. In it is the new chain of command.

I’m surprised to note Lana’s and Sam’s names on it and relatively high, though we go through a couple more military personnel before it seriously switches around to non-military personnel.

“Why’s John so high up?” Kaylee asks, prodding the paper. “He military too?”

“No. Mr. Lee’s special Skills dictate his position in the chain of command. If he is still able to function at that point, he will be in the best position to ascertain the next steps for our attack,” Miller replies.

“Ah, he gets to decide if we run away?” Daniel asks, stating the obvious.

There’s more than a few frowns at the mage, but he ignores them all. Whether it’s a case of the programmer being entirely oblivious or not caring, he seems more than happy to annoy everyone.

“Or press the attack,” Miller says. “Our troops have been so informed. Now, we have much to discuss and not much time.”

The grumbling stills, at least for the moment, as we turn toward the minutiae of battle prep. It amuses me slightly since my own portion of this is done. I’ve got Sabre, Ali, and my sword. Everything else… well, that’s for others to handle. My people are in good hands. Once again, I’m the damn transport hub.

“You were pretty quiet in there,” Sam says to me later that evening where our team has gathered in the house we’ve been allocated.

Everyone’s here, including Carlos and Ingrid, which is a nice change of pace from the recent norm. Perhaps it’s because we’ve all lost our families that voluntary gatherings like this are all the more important, familiar bonds reestablished to offer comfort and succor.

“Didn’t have much to contribute,” I say with a shrug. “You and Lana have a better idea of what our men are like these days. Though I’m surprised you weren’t there.” I say that to Mikito, who sighs.

“Training. We’re closing in on clearing the fiftieth level zone of your dungeon,” Mikito says with a slight bite.

“Ah, right.” I blink and duck my head, recalling that I was the one who had mentioned we should try to clear the dungeon ourselves. We never got around to it, mostly because I’m too busy running errands. Truthfully, outside of pulling the team in for the occasional clearance of a newly found, uncleared dungeon on my route, we haven’t had much fighting time together recently.

“Leave him alone, Miki,” Carlos says. “He’s busy doing hero stuff. We’ve got the dungeons covered.”

“Miki…?” I do my best to hide my astonishment at the lack of naginata protruding from Carlos’s body at the use of a nickname.

“Lazing around and road-tripping,” Mikito mutters grumpily, though mostly good-naturedly.

“That does raise the question—when are we taking the rest of Canada?” Ingrid says, leaning forward. “Not that helping the Americans isn’t important, but you know…”

“National pride,” I say with a half-smile. “After this. I’ll be porting up to Calgary and heading east once the battle here is over and things have settled. Wier has promised more help from his people. With the marines clear, they’ll have enough people to make an actual push of it by themselves once they settle LA. Calgary’s pretty secure now and Edmonton is raring to go, so we’re next on the agenda.”

“Good,” Sam grunts.

I glance at the older man, recalling his concerns over Ontario.

“We’re pretty settled up in BC too. The mountains farther north are an issue, but things are beginning to settle. The negotiations with the sirens in Vancouver Island are nearly over,” Lana adds, shaking her curly red hair. “Though I’m not entirely sure we’ll get many immigrants from there.”

“Men,” Ingrid says with a snort.

“Good,” Carlos says happily, returning to the initial topic. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind helping them but…”

“It’ll be good to get started,” I say, nodding. “Any news on the Rockies?”

A few faces are made at that question.

Ingrid answers without hesitation. “Level 80 to 120 depending on the zone. No survivors. Our scouts have indicated a series of flying monsters ranging from gargoyles, griffins, and drakes to elemental rock hounds and creatures we don’t even have names for. And that’s at the edges.”

“Sounds like the passes up north are the way to go, unless there’re a few lower Level zones down south,” I say.

It’s frustrating, but we’re also lucky. As the latest Dungeon World, we’re still considered “new,” and while certain zones have a higher level of ambient Mana than others, we’re nowhere close to the levels of older Dungeon Worlds. Over time—measured in years and decades, thankfully—the amount of ambient Mana on Earth will rise too. In fact, the introduction of Earth as a Dungeon World has helped the other Dungeon Worlds significantly, slowing down the Mana saturation in their worlds. The continual increase in zones and Levels in older Dungeon Worlds is what makes City Dungeons so damn popular. The City Dungeons themselves are much more controlled and it’s why we haven’t seen a rush of new Galactic Adventurers. While the rewards in experience and loot is better in a Dungeon World, City Dungeons are just safer and more accessible for those at the lower end of the scale. It’s like travelling to a new country to take a degree – sure, technically possible but it’s expensive and risky. Of course, not a rush is relative. When you’re talking populations of hundreds of billions, fractions are still huge.

“The scouts are working that route right now, but it’s slow going. Between the Galactics streaming in, the need to locate and work with survivors, and the lack of a base, I don’t expect there to be any major developments,” Ingrid says. “They’ve asked for funds to build up a Fort they located, but it’s pretty broken right now.”

“Done. Talk to Kim. He’ll arrange for the Credits.” I trust the assassin to know and vet the scouts. While she isn’t directly in charge of their operations—it’s a tad too much responsibility for the lady—I know she’s interested in the process. It’s almost like stepping into a new world each time you explore a new region these days. “The Americans giving them a hard time?”

With the border down, there’s little to separate our countries except an imaginary state of mind—certainly, we don’t have a giant wall to demarcate the difference. But the walls we build in our minds can be harder to break than even a diamond-studded wall in reality.

“Not too much. Many of them are happy to see just about anyone. The few who aren’t… well, our scouts are some of our highest Level Combat Classers,” Ingrid says. “Anyone who objects too pointedly gets the point.”

“Badoom-Krash!” Ali shouts, playing imaginary drums to go alongside the sound effect.

“And that’s enough of that. On another note, there’s been talk about reclaiming some of the other settlements,” Lana says. “Some of the survivors have indicated a desire to head back home. Others just want to explore. We’ve been able to keep it in check mostly, or at least redirect them to one of our smaller Villages in BC, but it’s not just us. Alberta’s indicated the same thing—people want to go home. Even if that home is now owned by a seventeen-foot-tall green man.”

“That’s an oddly specific example,” Carlos says.

“It is, isn’t it?” Lana says sweetly.

“What do you want me to do about it?” I say with a frown.

“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do, but you remember how the System called us NPCs? Like we were just background to their lives?” Lana says, and I nod. “Well, I wonder if that’s because it’s true. Once we start populating the other settlements, we’ll need the Galactics to help keep order. To keep them settled. We don’t have the population anymore to keep all our cities going.”

“You think they knew. That they planned for this.” At her nod, I glance at Ali. The Spirit nods and I sigh. Time to let the team know the truth I’ve already read. “They did. It’s common practice for the Galactics. We’re not the first, the second, or the hundredth world to be taken over. The only reason they’ve only got six Dungeon Worlds is because at a certain point, most Dungeon Worlds self-destruct. The ambient Mana pushes the monsters to a point where it’s impossible for all but the most Legendary individuals to visit. Many of the core worlds among the Galactics aren’t very different from those Dungeon Worlds by now.”

My words make the group blink—not at the words themselves but at the Quest Notification they receive. For the first time, Carlos gets introduced to my private obsession—the System Quest. All of them receive a little experience as they uncover another secret of the System. And as always, there’s no way to tell why or how this piece of knowledge and not another is important enough that the System will award us.

“Thanks for the experience. I think,” Carlos says, his brow furrowed as he reads the quest log.

“Don’t worry about it. John’s obsessed with it. He even reads books,” Ingrid says the last mostly teasingly but with just a hint of derision in her voice.

“Enough of picking on John,” Lana says, frowning. “His book reading is actually useful. If we know what they’re planning, maybe we can do something about it.”

“Like what? Not die?” Ingrid says with a snort. “The problem is we don’t have enough people. And I’m not sacrificing my body to put more babes in the cradle.”

Sam snorts, almost choking on the drink he was sipping. Ingrid grins evilly, making it clear that was on purpose.

Even if she doesn’t, the number of babies that have popped out and that are due is staggering. Probably a quarter of the female population is expecting or will be expecting. It’s not natural, but from the conversations I’ve lipread, the pregnancies are all going extremely well—much better than previous experiences. No morning sickness, no cramps or swollen feet or overheating. It’s a dream pregnancy, if it weren’t for the fact that in many cases it’s a surprise.

“I’m not sure how,” Lana says, not bothering to rise to Ingrid’s bait. It’s never worth it with her. “But at least we know the Galactics are pushing us to work with them. So maybe we have more of a bargaining position than we thought.”

Ingrid snorts but doesn’t rebut Lana. I nod, content to let the redhead work on this problem too now that I’ve put the bug in her ear. I have my own thoughts on the matter, but as always, they diverge somewhat.

As Lana falls silent, Sam takes it upon himself to switch topics to something lighter, a recounting of finding some old rock band that survived the apocalypse in their retreat and is having an upcoming concert. Even in the worst of times, there’s always a silver lining.

Chapter 13

Six days. It takes six days for preparations to be complete before the first major steps are taken. Of course, with my Skill, I’m privy to the majority of the changes, including the process of transporting hundreds of marines to Fort Irwin. By the end of that week, I am sick of the often-repeated snarky comments and gloating by the marines about how they were all “Marines,” unlike the other non-Classed generic soldiers. The marines are just the start, of course. After that, I port over fighters from settlements all across the country.

Six days. And in those six days, I manage to catch up with Lana, Mikito, and Sam and even get to know Carlos a little better. The Hispanic man is an interesting mix of confidence and sudden attacks of doubt, at times certain of his place in all this and other times completely out of his depth. Then again, perhaps he’s just easier to read than most. Six days and we even manage to sneak in a full day of dungeoning, making a speed run through the majority of the buildings in Vancouver’s City Dungeon to grab loot and experience. It played out well, with some modest loot that sells for good Credits and very decent experience gains.

Six days to get all our preparations sorted. At that thought, I pull out my character sheet, staring at the screen and the latest series of upgrades I’ve made. Upgrades. So weird to think of myself like a computer that gets its RAM switched out, my hard disk defragged, or new peripherals added.

Status Screen

Name

John Lee

Class

Erethran Honor Guard

Race

Human (Male)

Level

48

Titles

Monster’s Bane, Redeemer of the Dead, Duelist

Health

2240

Stamina

2240

Mana

1740

Mana Regeneration

135 / minute

Attributes

Strength

116

Agility

207

Constitution

224

Perception

63

Intelligence

174

Willpower

170

Charisma

18

Luck

33

Class Skills

Mana Imbue

3*

Blade Strike*

3

Thousand Steps

1

Altered Space

2

Two are One

1

The Body’s Resolve

3

Greater Detection

1

A Thousand blades*

3

Soul Shield

2

Blink Step

2

Portal*

5

Army of One

2

Sanctum

2

Instantaneous Inventory*

1

Cleave*

2

Frenzy*

1

Elemental Strike*

1 (Ice)

Shrunken Footprints*

1

Tech Link*

2

Combat Spells

Improved Minor Healing (II)

Greater Regeneration

Greater Healing

Mana Drip

Improved Mana Dart (IV)

Enhanced Lightning Strike

Fireball

Polar Zone

Freezing Blade

Inferno Strike

Mud Walls

Having gotten over my hesitation about “buying” Skill Levels, I spent my most recent earnings on upgrading Thousand Blades twice, adding two new blades to my arsenal. Luckily, the Skill increases also let me set how many new blades I call forth, since actually wielding five swords, four of them free-floating, is rather difficult, especially with my butchered Erethran Honor Guard style of appearing / disappearing blades. It was only after playing with them a bit that I realized I desperately needed to increase my Perception to help aid my sense of where those blades are.

I also upgraded Mana Imbue and Blade Strike with the last of my funds, increasing my attack power in my stalwart combat Skills.

Mana Imbue (Level 3)

Soulbound weapon now permanently imbued with mana to deal more damage on each hit. +20 Base Damage (Mana). Will ignore armor and resistances. Mana regeneration reduced by 10 Mana per minute permanently.

Blade Strike (Level 3)

By projecting additional Mana and stamina into a strike, the Erethran Honor Guard’s Soulbound weapon may project a strike up to 30 feet away.

Cost: 30 Stamina + 30 Mana

The decrease in my Mana regeneration sucked, but the increase in base damage helped. Over time, I’ve realized how powerful this unresistible increase in base damage can be. Sure, it might seem small when compared to the thousands of hit points an enemy might have, but it’s base damage. That damage is multiplied by where and how well you hit the individual, after which of course armor, dodging, and other passive skills take effect. In the end, a few points increase in base damage can make a big difference, especially when that amount isn’t reduced by resistances.

All this is, of course, a minor addition when stacked up against the huge gain in my attack power when it’s multiplied by Army of One. As tempting as it was to use both of my free Skill points to upgrade it again, I instead purchased another point in Sanctum. Surviving takes precedence, no matter how much fun it is to kick ass. Having an ace in the hole, an “ignore all attacks” card is something I can’t ignore.

Sanctum (Level 2)

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 15 cubic meters.

Cost: 1,000 Mana

Duration: 2 minute and 7 seconds

The upgrade for Army of One, on the other hand, was slightly disappointing. For another point, I somehow expected a little more.

Army of One (Level 2)

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. Attack may now be guided around minor obstacles.

Effect: Army of One allows the projection of (Number of Thousand Blades conjured weapons * 3) Blade Strike attacks up to 300 meters away from user. Each attack deals 3 * Blade Strike Level damage (inclusive of Mana Imbue and Soulbound weapon bonus)

Cost: 750 Mana

Overall satisfied with the upgrades and the way I had spent my accumulated Credits, I flicked over to my sparse equipment sets. The Mana bracer is fully filled, which gives me a nice Mana battery to reach for. Even after all this time fighting other sentients, I’ve yet to find a better ring. Since multiple rings can cancel each other out, I’m stuck with someone’s engagement ring. It’s a bit morbid, but considering they were here to enslave and kill us, I’m mostly over the ethical issues.

I’m still wielding the same beam pistol and rifle, along with Sabre, as when I first started. Most equipment that we’ve found is only marginally better, and marginal increases aren’t worth it. I’ve come across a few rifles that would have been better quality if they hadn’t been destroyed, but unfortunately, my fighting style has a tendency to leave a lot of things in pieces. And while I could have bought myself a better rifle, spending the Credits on such a thing rather than say, a Skill, just seems wrong. Equipment can be wrecked or changed eventually. Skills stay forever.

The biggest upgrade I have is actually a small technical module that takes a slot on my Neural Link. It’s taken a little bit of time to get used to it, so I haven’t seen its effects well until our most recent dungeon dive, but now, it feels right.

Perceptive Filter

The perceptive filter interacts with the user’s senses to highlight specific sensory inputs. While unable to expand the range of the user’s senses, the perception filter is able to note specific, potentially useful, sensory inputs that the user has ignored and highlight them for the user to note.

Effect: Variable. Currently provides a +4 to Perception

Requires: One Neural Link Slot

It’s a weird little technological upgrade, but in the dungeon, twice it highlighted a hidden doorway that we nearly missed. The first time was due to a slight scarring on the floor which had flashed red in my vision, the second via increasing the smell of the monster lurking behind the door. Overall, I’m quite pleased by the little find, and it made yanking the neural link out of the Galactic’s head worthwhile. It went a small way to rebalancing my Perception requirements at least.

Six days. I’ve been brought into a few more strategy meetings, gleaned a little more from the casual talk among our people and the way men have been distributed or the locations I’ve been led to to set up Portal locations. As much as we try to keep such information compartmentalized, some of it is easy enough to grasp, even for one as untrained in the art of war as I am.

Three Master Class enemies need a counter. They’re walking tank divisions, powerful enough to turn the tide of battle in any location. You can kill them if you throw enough Basic Classes at them, if you’re willing to stuff people down the exhaust pipes till the tracks are gummed up and they can’t move or see. Or you can counter strength with strength.

Seven teams, each rated to take out a single Master Class Galactic. I know the goal is to use a minimum of two teams for each Master Class. They’re all situated in the back of the line, waiting for me to Portal them in. Lana and company are one such team. Two Hakarta teams of eight men apiece, a pair of Special Forces teams from Fort Lewis, and two squads of Marines make up the remainder of the Master-Class killers.

Throughout the main fighting force, smaller elite groups are scattered. Our non-military fighters have naturally broken themselves into fighting parties, people they know and trust. Adventuring parties mixed with infantry fire teams, all of them backing each other up with appropriate allocations of Skills and spells. Each squad has been graded and ranked, ranging from the Basic to Master Class killers, some teams larger than others. Within each combat rank are additional grades. And based off these grades, the Officers, Commanders, and Tacticians can allocate help as needed to tackle threats.

Six days to break down, calculate, and tag each group. And during that time, the few resistance groups doing battle with the Zarrie continue to die, without news, without hope, without aid. Knowing that we could do more for them and yet we aren’t guts me. We can’t, not without letting the Zarrie know that we’re making a move, that we’re getting closer. That’s one of the lessons from Wier’s books. You can’t fight a war as if the enemy knows all your moves, but you can’t afford to discount it either. And so we leave them to fight and die, battling over neighborhood blocks that hold no meaning and City Cores that change every few weeks.

Six days, and finally, we’re ready.

The sight the next morning is something to behold. Soldiers and marines, civilians and police officers, Galactics and humans in all shapes and sizes exit Fort Irwin. I watch as the myriad of figures, transported on everything from pony-sized puppies to futuristic armored personnel carriers, upgraded tanks, and Bradleys trek forward, an army of mish-mashed individuals with one will, and I marvel at the weirdness of the System once more.

Our first step is to take the cities that lie between Fort Irwin and Los Angeles. While I can Portal people directly into combat, I’m still one man with a limited window on my Portal. There’re only so many people I can safely and quickly transport.

Barstow is our first stop, followed by the urban sprawl that makes up Hesperia, Victorville, and the rest. After that, we’ll probably skip the Angeles National Forest and its myriad Level 80 monsters and clear part of the way through San Bernardino. Luckily for us, the entire San Bernardino county is a battle-ridden ground filled with pissed off Californians and Galactics in equal measure. San Bernardino itself seems to have done really well, with nearly half of its City Cores held by its residents. I guess living in a crime-ridden, poverty-stricken city has some benefits when the apocalypse comes. Fact is, they’d have done even better if they weren’t so busy fighting each other and selling one another out, but that’s humans for you.

Those are the easy marching orders to discern, even if no one has said as much. Still, for now, it’s Hesperia and on coming battles while we wait to see if and when the Zarrie react.

While the core zones of LA and its surrounding areas have settlement shields in place, the various towns and cities that encompass the San Bernardino valley have none of those defenses. Most of their City Cores and regions remain blasted ruins, areas that have suffered from the initial apocalypse, the monsters that have grown up in the city, and later, the sneak attacks by the marines and the army.

As settlements have a strict financial management policy—otherwise, settlement owners would be tossing Credits in and drawing them out willy-nilly—the lack of development isn’t surprising. I actually do need to do more research on why these Credit management policies in settlements are in place, but that’s something for future John to do.

Idle thoughts I’m able to have because, like the Master Class-rated teams, I’m benched from the fight around Hesperia. The less our enemies know of my presence, the better off we are. That’s about the biggest drawback to purchasing information from the store—it’s always a time-specific purchase. I can tell where someone is at the moment I purchase their location, but it offers no System-guaranteed tracking. It means for someone with the innate mobility I have, they can only rely on technology and Skills to keep track of me.

Staring out of the window of the In-n-Out burger shack that’s been taken over by the Master Class teams, I watch the smoke rise from the sprawling cities and try to convince myself that the smell of burnt flesh and overheated metal is coming from the kitchen. Sam and a couple others have the grill fired up, tossing hamburgers and making fries as they cheat physics and entropy to make the mundane cooking equipment work once more. It’s a good distraction and a better use of time than my own brooding.

“And that’s the last Core,” Major Alvarez informs me as he walks over from the small command post he and his fellow minders have set up in one corner.

“Good.” Seeing that that’s all Alvarez has to say, I realize I still don’t have any marching orders. “Losses?”

“Minimal. Six Basic teams, one Advanced-ranked team were complete losses. Two Advanced teams have lost significant numbers and have been combined,” Alvarez replies.

Considering an Advanced Class team of Galactics was holding each of the Cores, I’m pleasantly surprised.

“Mr. Lee, I have a question if you have a moment,” Alvarez says. “For you and your Spirit.”

“He’s got a name you know. Ali. Like the boxer,” Ali says with a snort.

“Go ahead,” I say, ignoring Ali, who is floating beside me and pulling together strands of data.

I almost wish Kim was here, but since I don’t own any of these settlements, he (it?) is currently out of reach. Still, the AI’s data processing capability is better than Ali’s and would be useful, even if he doesn’t have the right knowledge sets.

“Like us, most Galactics seem to adventure and do battle in teams. Thus, the numerous teams of Advanced Class fighters we’ve met,” Alvarez says. “But we’ve yet to meet any Master Class teams.”

“What? You want to meet some?” Ali says tauntingly. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Why ask me?” I ask.

“Your propensity for reading is well known. And you’ve got certain advantages in acquiring additional knowledge.” Alvarez says the last part while shooting a glance at Ali.

“Less than you’d think,” I say with a smile.

“Hey!”

“But to answer your question, there are. In fact, there are more Master Class teams than solo adventurers who ascend to that level. However, the teams rarely stay together after that,” I say, shooting Alvarez a glance. Seeing that he’s still listening, I continue. “You understand how the experience requirements keep rising each stage, right? Thus, it costs you roughly fifty thousand experience points to go from Level 1 to 2 when you’re an Advanced Class. By the time you hit Level 41, you need roughly two hundred fifty thousand points. Now, double that again when you’re starting out as a Master Class. You see the problem?”

Alvarez blinks, his jaw working. He’s doing the math quietly, thinking of his experience gains recently, his eyes slowly widening.

“That’s right. Group experience distribution rules while killing monsters means there’s less total experience distributed than if you fought solo. When you need that much experience to go up a single Level, you can’t adventure with your team. In fact, adventuring and ‘grinding’ for experience isn’t even that smart anymore.”

“Then what is?”

“Quests. We don’t see a lot of it here, mostly because we don’t have the set up, but in properly established Galactic worlds, there are numerous quests available.” I shrug. “It’s also why you don’t see many Master Classes running around here. They’re too busy Leveling to bother with things like this. Of course…”

“Of course…?”

“Well, not everyone wants to Level after they reach that point,” I say. “It’s why the ones we find are normally lower Leveled.”

“Ah, except couldn’t protecting the settlements be part of their quests?” Alvarez asks.

“Yup. It probably is too.” I pause, considering how to answer simply. “Quests, well, they gain in experience as the need and duration they aren’t completed increases. So say a quest to pull a tooth from a live dragon isn’t completed in a year. The experience it gives goes up every day, and by the end of the year, the experience gain from completion is probably worth double what it was. A ‘protect’ quest like this, well, it isn’t particularly old, so it probably isn’t very good experience. Not for a Master Class.”

“Oh…” Alvarez nods in thanks. Before he can ask a follow-up question, he stills, his eyes glazing over as he listens and reads a notification only he can see.

Without saying goodbye, the major walks off, muttering to himself. I could listen in, but I don’t, willfully ignoring the man.

“Not going to point out that you’re a giant cheater?” Ali sends.

I snort quietly. No, I’m definitely not going to point out how, because of me skipping an entire Class Level, I need significantly less experience to Level than what I just described. Even if, right now, it means my last few Levels have been a grind.

“Animal style?” Carlos asks, holding a platter of burgers in front of me. I stare at him uncomprehendingly, wondering if we’ve switched to talking about fighting techniques. “Animal style burgers? You know what, never mind. Just eat it.”

I shake my head, grabbing the tray and putting it on the table next to me. Americans are weird. In a moment, Lana joins me, snatching a stuffed burger with cheese melting off the definitely-not-beef patties, and I push the thought aside, starting in on my meal before it all disappears.

San Bernardino itself is a trickier nut to crack. By the time we get to it a half day later, the damn city and most of its surroundings are on fire. The constant battles and the lack of upgrades to the county and its surroundings have all but guaranteed that wild fires are a constant danger. It doesn’t help that the System replaces the burnt-out brush within days each time. This wildfire seems to have really gotten out of hand though.

“Bet you it’s some mage who’s gotten hold of a new fire spell,” Sam mutters as he directs drones to dump more fire retardant on the smoking hillside.

“No chance. Fire mages are smarter than that. It’s probably one of you non-mages,” Chetan says with a bite. He weaves his hand slightly, guiding a whip of flame to cut into the earth and burn the grass on it to create a firebreak. Either that or he’s just looking for the chance to burn something.

“We need a temperature drop over here,” Ingrid’s voice cackles over the communicators.

“Got it,” I say.

I almost pop open a Portal by reflex before remembering I’m not supposed to and Blink Step my way over to the lady. Mostly, I’m thankful that I don’t have to listen to Sam and Chetan’s argument, since it’s one that I’ve heard numerous times. Stuck as we are on the surrounding hills, we can barely even see San Bernardino. But at least this time, we get to do something.

“Isn’t this kind of pointless?” Ingrid says to me when I’m done casting Polar Zone over the area, the assassin standing with one leg cocked and relaxed.

“Aren’t you working? And what do you mean?” I say.

“The System regrows everything super-fast anyway. So all this, it’ll just regrow in what? A week? And I’m waiting for my spell cooldown to come off. It’s not as if I have that many useful spells, you know,” Ingrid says.

“Sure, it’s a waste of time,” Ali answers Ingrid with a smile.

“Stop smiling at me. It makes me worried when you do, you pervert,” Ingrid says while raising her hand to cast a cone of cold at another piece of ground. A few seconds later, she throws a rain cloud over another spot.

“Rain?” I say.

“Soothing rain. Mana regeneration and a mild healing regeneration increase,” Ingrid answers. “It’s from a ring.”

“Huh…”

“I’m waiting, Spirit.”

“What? There’s nothing to worry about. Let it burn. Let it burn again. After a while, you’ll just get fire-resistant grass, fire elementals, explosive plants, and other creatures that either thrive on the burning and promote it or, you know, creatures that can just ignore it,” Ali says with a shrug. “It’s all good.”

“Explosive plants?” I say.

“Sure. What better way to promote fires?” Ali says.

“Right. More water.” Ingrid nods firmly.

The desert is already tough enough, with the Mana-enhanced sandstorms, crazy-ass winds, and mutated animals. We don’t need even nastier forms of plants and creatures coming along.

The conquest of San Bernardino was messy, destructive, and ultimately, successful. Luckily, we only lost a few Advanced Class team members, the majority of our losses being focused around our Basic Classes. There, we lost a lot more, including the complete wipe of five teams. It was a painful loss that left our people reeling. Rather than push ahead, Miller called for a break. Various scout groups kept moving ahead while the logistics and backend helpers came along to shore up the city’s defenses.

The Zarrie hit us the next morning as we near LA. They let our scouting parties past, the main body of our fighting force stretched out as we deal with a giant, shifting canyon that moves without rhyme or reason, creating caverns and gaps. It doesn’t help that ginormous beetles crawl from the ground at random intervals, launching themselves at our teams and attempting to drag them into the earthen gaps.

I’m working my way through the canyon, using my beam rifle to pick off threatening beetles while sitting safely on the floating PAV. The Zarrie attack hits us from the northwest, to the right of the broken-up road and canyon, as the latest attack from the beetles recedes.

The Zarrie lob the System-equivalent of artillery shells at us—high explosive high-tech weaponry, kinetic impact spells, traditional chemical explosive shells, and spell-enchanted weapons. Amongst all the explosive destruction comes waves of poisonous gas and quick-solidifying chemicals, the enchanted smoke obscuring our vision.

Long hours of combat and in some cases, training, kicks in after the initial shock. Teams pull in close and tight, hunkering down and guarding each other as they trigger additional static defenses. Unfortunately, the screams that reverberate through the canyon speak to the futility of that defense.

“Ali, go high.”

“On it.”

The spirit must have been moving already because within moments, I get a secondary feed from his vision, a slightly disorienting moment as I “see” through his eyes. It’s not a clear vision, partly because my mind still struggles to parse both visions at the same time and partly because our link isn’t that powerful. Yet. It’s still more than enough for what I need. In the relative safety of the shields I’ve already conjured, I have a few moments to assess the battlefield in peace.

In the northeast, there are no friendly dots left. All our scouts, all the men tasked with keeping that flank safe are gone. Even the dots that were there before have disappeared, some replaced with red and others gone as if they were never there. Now, the ridge is filled with Galactics shooting into the obscuring smoke, laying down suppressive fire as another group rushes in to engage us in melee combat. As Ali spins around, I spot the teams that haven’t been caught in the initial trap blocked off, walled away from the fight by a Skill that creates a towering, translucent wall that constantly shifts in size, sending out spikes to lash out at our men.

“Boy-o…” Ali highlights one particular figure on the cliff, flashing him in a rainbow outline repeatedly.

The distance is a bit too far to make out details beyond its raised hands that just look wrong and a tail. One thing I do note is that next to him is a team of spellcasters forming a ritual circle.

“Master Class?”

“Either that or he’s got one hell of a spell. That wall is his,” Ali states.

As he speaks, I watch a spike erupt from the wall, punching through the chest of the female melee fighter who’s been whaling on it with her mace. A moment later the spike enlarges, tearing the woman apart in a shower of gore, splattering all those around with her innards.

“Asshole,” I snarl. With a thought, Sabre transforms around me even as I traverse the smoke-filled terrain. “Jump lines, Blink, Portal,” I mentally command my helmet, the software over-layering cylindrical domes ahead of me to indicate the max distances for my Skills. It’s a minor adjustment that I came up with since Calgary, a little advantage to help my spells. Before I trigger either of my Skills, I check that both shields are fully activated.

Once ready, I use Ali’s viewpoint to Blink Step into the air above the smoke, giving me a moment to view the battle fully. As I fall, I thrust out a hand and launch a fireball into an approaching team of Galactics, Ali swooping past me as he attempts to close the distance to skip ahead again. Not that I need it—the Galactics are barely a few hundred meters away.

An icon flashes on my helmet—a lock and a figure stepping through a doorway. Before I can consciously understand what it means, I’ve triggered Blink Step to put me close to the cliff face. It’s a mistake. As I use Blink Step, a molecular grater is taken to every cell in my body, leaving tiny tears all over my prone form.

“Quantum lo… never mind.” Ali’s warning is just as late as my own realization.

My body curls up in shock while nerves scream and limbs twitch.

“Redeemer, we’ve identified a Master Class individual on the field. Details have been forwarded,” Alvarez’s voice cackles over the communicator too late. Not that he’s slow—it’s only been a short while since this has started.

I have no time to complain about my codename or explain my side of the story, the flicking danger signal showing that the Galactics haven’t ignored my mistake. Spells and explosions slam into me again and again, and with a force of will, I roll and twist to get away.

“Kill him!” The roar from above tells me I’m definitely targeted.

“Time to go, boy-o,” Ali mutters.

“Trying…” I grunt, then trigger the sonic pulser and a quartet of mini-missiles.

Those missiles don’t get far, the barrage of explosives tearing them apart. Luckily, they’re loaded with one of Carlos’s concoctions, a mixture of alchemical poison and high-density, signal-retardant smoke. Scrambling aside, I trigger Thousand Steps, boosting my movement speed for a few precious seconds.

“Redeemer, I have reports that you’re under attack. Help is on the way. Teams one and four are waiting on the Portal,” Alvarez’s voice cackles over the communicator again.

“Can’t,” I growl, scanning the notification as I scramble away while laying down my own covering fire and refreshing my Soul Shield. “Quantum lock. Spell. Advanced Class team.”

“Copy. Artillery is ranging. Brace for splash in five. Over,” Alvarez says, entirely too calm.

While I’m not a soldier, I can understand what he means by context and I’m not happy. On the other hand, the Galactics are significantly less, so when our men recover from the sudden attack, they return fire with our own version of artillery. Which in some cases is actual artillery and mortar shells.

The rippling explosion throws me backward, putting me into a backward roll that is aided by the spherical shield surrounding me. Sabre’s shield is down, only the newly refreshed Soul Shield saving me from further injury. Even under the protection of the sound dampeners in my helmet and the Soul Shield, my ear rings and my body throbs in sympathy with the explosions. For all that, the quantum lock continues to hold.

“Redeemer. Results? Over.”

“Lock is still on.”

“Teams two and five are en route to your position. We have released eight Advanced Class teams to deal with the surprise attack. Communication and visual surveillance of the vanguard has been compromised. Do you have further updates?” Alvarez calls.

In the corner of my mind, I’m sure Wier and Miller are dealing with the rest of the military forces, but I’m a touch busy to tune in there.

“Ali…”

“Updates are all routing to you and Sabre. But their smoke is throwing up some real interference. All I can say is, hurry!”

“I’m feeding you what I can. Ali says the information’s unreliable. Just hurry,” I say, dancing backward as I spot three teams braving the still-falling artillery to advance on my position. “Got to dance. I’ll Portal people in once I can.”

“Understood. Out.”

Watching the three teams rush me, spells, projectiles, and other killing attacks reaching for me, I make a quick decision. With my higher Agility, Thousand Steps, and Sabre’s anti-gravity plates and jets, I could stay away from the teams and pull them apart by letting the faster fellows chase me while I blast them. Kite and kill. Except they’ve got healers and I don’t and their range damage dealers could probably do some real damage if I let this go on too long. And let’s face the facts. Running away just isn’t what I do.

Rushing my attackers, I open up with more mini-missiles, watching my stock of pre-loaded missiles drop again. Still, the explosives do their job, throwing the group into disarray as they dodge, close their eyes, and overall attempt to ride out the blast. Two steps to the right leaves me bypassing the lead group, dodging between the trio while I drop a couple of grenades behind me. Chaos grenades sow salt water taffy, a gremlin, and a block of solidified magma in my wake.

Then I’m among the other pair of teams, dancing through them and firing the Inlin whenever I can while swinging my sword. The first Jarack dodges then breaks into a wide grin as it realizes my diagonal cut will miss him. What he doesn’t realize till too late is that the four blades trailing along behind all have his name on them. Even a last-minute dodge is insufficient for him to escape damage.

In the midst of the group, I dance, blades appearing and disappearing as I cut and twist, leaving a trailing array of flying blades behind me. Spells and Skills are triggered as fast as I can, Cleave cutting apart a spellcaster and sending it flying into its friends. Fireballs targeted at the epicenter of the group wash over me and them, dealing pain and confusion in equal amounts.

The teams I’m fighting are dangerous, high Level Basic fighters that chip and damage Sabre. I have to pull the mecha back after a while, scared that the PAV will be wrecked before we start the real war. In my armored skinsuit, I fight, Blink Stepping and calling forth Lightning Bolts even as the teams attempt to kill me. I’m constantly throwing up my Soul Shield as it shatters, drawing upon the Mana Battery recklessly while I fight.

And all along, I get glimpses of the larger battle. The smoke from the initial attack is slowly dissipating, reinforcements shattering a hole in the transparent wall and additional Skills holding it apart. The Zarrie pull back as the tide of battle turns against them while ranged spells fall against their prepared position. Another ritual spell is enacted when the majority of our enemies have fallen back, the spell completed a second after the quantum lock is released. And then our attackers are gone.

At that point, the remainder of the team I’m fighting throws down their weapons, as do the rest of those left behind. Their surrender leaves us with no outlet for our wrath as the mangled remains of our friends remind us that this time, we lost.

Chapter 14

Hours after the attack, we pull the army together and get moving. We change the way we do things, with the scouts on our flanks significantly increased and more frequent check-ins. In addition, each team is now able to watch each other, the zones they’re scouting reduced to allow this to happen. And there are more changes, drones and Skills put into place while we recover from the attack that took out nearly a third of the vanguard. Too many damn teams, too many people.

For all that, when Miller makes the call, I’m not surprised. The Portal back to have the conversation in person is quick.

“General,” I greet Miller, who is bent over the System-generated map, muttering orders to his people.

“Mr. Lee. Thank you for coming,” Miller says as he walks over to me. “It looks like the next step of the operation must begin earlier than we expected.”

“Sounds good,” I say, flashing him a grim smile. “If I knew what it was.”

“Ah, yes.” Miller shrugs unapologetically and waves me over to look at the map. “We’ll need you to leave the teams for now. For the next step, you’ll need both your team and Sargent Johnson’s.”

“I thought they were part of the Master Class kill groups.”

“They were,” Miller says. “Now, you’ll need them to help you get into LA itself. The following route is what we’d recommend…”

“Miller…” I say warningly, unhappy about how obtuse he’s being. I understand the need for it, but he’s asking me to bring my friends into the middle of the lions’ den. And as we have learned, they are more than ready to deal with my Skills.

“Mr. Lee, you are skilled. High Leveled. A veritable god of war on the battlefield from what my men say,” Miller says, meeting my eyes. “But right now, you’re a soldier. Now, you can decide to be an officer, to make the decisions and run this battle. And if you do, I’ll step aside.” I see more than a few of his men shift, obviously uncomfortable with his words. “Because there can’t be more than one commander, not at this time. But you chose to step aside earlier, and I cannot, will not, have more of my men risk their lives if you are going to change your mind in the middle of the operation.”

I grit my teeth, my temper flaring as he calls me to the carpet. A part of me wonders why he didn’t do it somewhere else, somewhere more private. But mostly, I’m thinking. Thinking of what he said, of the decisions I’ve made. Miller’s right. Stepping aside to let the army personnel run the fight was a deliberate choice, one based on the belief that they know what they’re doing better than I do. Now, we’re bloodied and hurt and our people have died. And maybe I could have done something better, and maybe I couldn’t have. But here I am, jostling his elbow because now he’s putting the people I care about in danger. Now, I’ve got to risk more than my life, and I realize that doubt is eating away at me. Not knowing, not understanding is making me question when I shouldn’t.

I can either accept that he’s in charge or I can take over. What is is. Choose or not, but I can’t keep coming back to it. Once again, I go over the reasons why I stepped aside. My lack of training. My lack of people skills. My lack of knowledge of the Skills and people involved. The crushing responsibility and guilt for all the lives that will be lost. And perhaps most importantly of all, my final goals. Running the war, running each battle in the USA is not important. Not for me.

I exhale raggedly, pushing aside the anger and the petty jealousy. The desire to be the one in charge. The doubt that we’re being hung out to dry. My personal doubts about authority. There’s a war to fight and me questioning Miller is not helping. “Sorry. Tell me what needs to be done.”

“Good,” Miller says.

He gestures to one of the aides, who hurries out of the room, before he turns back to the table, a glowing green line appearing at his gesture. The line charts where he wants me to go, the locations I need to hit. While I upload the data into my HUD and memorize the route, I also spend time assessing it, making mental notes for areas of particular interest. A hill here, a tall building there, a dam another place.

Before I can ask any questions, I’m interrupted by the presence of three new individuals. They’re all entertainers—two Actors and a Performer, I realize. I frown, curious, but Miller shakes his head.

“Give them your hand, Mr. Lee.”

I grunt and do so, watching as the first touches it. I feel a surge of Mana wash over me, one that is mostly benign in nature. Rather than resist it, I let it penetrate me, knowing that Miller must have a reason. One after the other, the entertainers touch me, step back, and nod to Miller before they are dismissed.

“I’m not getting an explanation, am I?”

“No.”

“Figured,” I grumble slightly, intrigued but silent for now.

You’d think that a single settlement shield, a piece of technology that lays a wall of force across the entirety of a region, would be sufficient to stop stealthy incursions. If you did—and I did—you’d be wrong. After all, why bother with sense when the System is in play?

“Move,” Johnson hisses at me.

I jolt forward, ducking through the glowing hole in the settlement shield that one of his soldiers has created. I’m not even sure what kind of spell it is that can breach a settlement shield without alerting anyone, but I make note to find out. And to perhaps institute regular in-settlement patrols on our own settlements.

As I duck through, I skitter out of the way of the window, being careful of where I place my feet on the unsteady floor while the quantum lock notification appears in my HUD. The settlement shield was generated in a sphere, one that cares not for minor non-System-developed features like commercial buildings. As such, we’re breaching the settlement shield from the second floor of a squat commercial building that once housed a clothing store below and a dental office above. I’m somewhat amused that the ladies took the seconds to shove a few particularly pretty handbags into my hands for storage and that the settlement shield bisected the entire store neatly in the middle. Even so, the building seems to be mostly intact, which is why it was chosen.

You Have Entered the Village of Pasadena

Mana flows in this area are stabilized. No monster spawning will happen.

This Safe Space includes:

Village of Pasadena City Center

The Shop

Tier IV Settlement Shield

The team streams in after me, the puppies the only ones who have trouble squeezing through the opening. Once through, the hole slowly shrinks, leaving us trapped with hundreds of our enemies. Of course, if we do end up fighting them, we’re doing something wrong.

Ingrid and another soldier disappear after a moment, the pair heading out to scout, while Johnson sits with us, his own Skill—Shadow Cloak—hiding us from technological and Skill scrutiny. Or so we’re forced to assume. With nothing to do and unable to tap into our Skills or spells, we’re forced to wait in tense silence. Even speaking is discouraged, since the possibility of an individual with enhanced senses is a major concern.

Seated next to the air filter, I find myself leaning against the wall and thinking about the progress of the war, Lana leaning against me and working on her businesses in her own System windows. Even though I know this is how she’s dealing with the stress, I almost feel guilty about not checking up on my settlements. Almost. But first things first, we’ve got to survive this war.

We’re a couple of settlements ahead of the main fighting force from Fort Irwin, and if the plan goes well, we’ll be sneaking through this suburb into the next, making our way slowly into LA itself. Cutting through the Angeles National Forest and its higher Level monsters gave us a way to sneak in that would be much more difficult for the larger army. Over the following few days, the Fort Irwin army will take over the settlements in the way, going on a slow and steady route rather than a blitzkrieg approach. That should reduce the likelihood that the Zarrie ambushes succeed, even if we give them more opportunities to do so. At the same time, I know that Camp Pendleton will step up their own attacks, pushing the Zarrie in the south and threatening their settlements there, forcing them to fight a battle on two fronts.

There’s a danger to that of course—the Zarrie could easily concentrate their forces and hit us hard, a term that I believe is defeat in detail. But that’s where the other aspect of the plan lies, the one that I’ve begun to realize is Miller’s goal. If we can get in deep enough, we can cause real trouble for the Zarrie while their men are busy. They’ve shown the ability to teleport large numbers of their men, more than we can. But it seems to require a significant number of individuals and cast time, something that we don’t need. If they can teleport in, we can teleport out. Or better, teleport our people in to where they expect to be safe.

And that’s what I think we might actually be going for, a location where the Master Classes will be. It’s why we’re trekking all over with Johnson’s people, checking out different spots. Because it’s not enough to take over the City Cores—those are, at best, temporary victories. While controlling them ensures that last-minute reinforcements via teleportation pads and instantaneous System-assisted communication is removed, it isn’t a guarantee of victory.

No, what we need to do to win is to destroy their ability to fight back. Their forces. And in that sense, the three Master Class Combat Classers are the main targets. Taking them out will reduce the Zarrie’s ability to wage an effective war, leaving them with only their non-Combat Master Classers within Los Angeles itself. A group that we can defeat as we take the City Cores.

In the world of the System, wars aren’t about land or resources. Or perhaps people are the resources of import. A single Master Class individual can change the face of a battle with a single Skill.

Which is why we’re moving in deeper than ever. We’ve already crossed most of the areas where the army will fight, close enough that I can wield my Portal Skill to put us there if a Master Class appears and I’m ordered to do so. Of course, we’d have to break the quantum lock that the shield has in place, but I’m certain that if I’m called, those will go down. But…

But meeting the Master Class individuals in battle, in a time and place that they know of, is a bad idea. They haven’t gotten this far by being stupid, and not having at least a few modes of retreat would be the definition of foolish. No. We need to hit them where they don’t expect it, which is why we’re sneaking in deep. If we can hit them when they’re not expecting it, when they’ve retreated or are resting, we might just have a chance.

Of course, the fact that I’m not at the various battle grounds might be a bit of a tip-off. Which is where the entertainers come in. Really, it didn’t take a genius to realize what they were for once I actually took the time to think about it. Hopefully though, since none of them had a conversation with me nor did Miller discuss matters directly, the actual plan to use them hasn’t been compromised. Once again, we’re relying on the exactness of information gathering in the System to launch our sneak attack.

Exhaling slowly, I find Lana looking at me with a cocked eyebrow. I shake my head, unable to tell her my thoughts and uncertain of what to say really. It is what it is. Either this gamble works, or we’re going to get stuck fighting in close quarters against more people than I’d like. Rather than answer me verbally, Lana flashes me a smile and hands me a bar of chocolate before turning back to her interface.

Tension mounts as one day turns into another. Cut off from any news, we can only move forward, sneaking from building to building, hiding from patrols and civilians in equal measure, working our way in deeper. We rely on a mixture of our scouts’ abilities, Sam’s drones, and the pets enhanced senses to give us warning. Even then, it’s slow going.

As I hunker behind an abandoned dumpster, its contents well past ripe and moving into that rarified sphere of rancid, I find myself holding my breath as an unanticipated Jarack Bounty Hunter saunters down the street, his black furred head turning side to side. The brown stripe running across its face gives it a weird, patchy look. Occasionally, the Jarack cocks its head to the side, sniffing loudly as it attempts to catch new scents.

Across the street, holding on to the wall by his fingertips, is Sam, his face red with the physical strain and his held breath. He’s barely ten feet off the ground, a vertical jump that took him out of the direct line of sight of the Jarack, but he’s vulnerable to the creature’s nose, even under the effects of Carlos’s scentless potion. Our scents have been diminished, not erased. It doesn’t help that I’m certain that the damn Jarack has a Skill that expands its senses.

Again the Jarack snuffles, its head tilted before it takes a few steps forward. Then it stops, cocking its head and sniffing again. I almost growl in frustration. A sudden crackle of sound from its communicator, set to speak softly but so loud in the silence around us, almost makes me jump. The Jarack growls and whines, its language translated in text for me by Ali.

“At Y 45, Z 38. Smelled something. New smell. Human. Not native. Beam weaponry. Old blood. No. No trace. Yes. I hunt runners. Six hundred Credits. No. Six. Five. Yes. No. I no want. Four five. Okay. Deposit half.”

The creature seems to smirk, its lips widening, then it looks around once more. It speaks after a moment, this time in English. “Lucky prey. New job pay more than stragglers. I have scent. I come back later. Best run. Run fast…”

Cackling to itself and us, its half-laugh half-howl setting our hairs on edge, the Jarack drops to its hands and lopes off. I blink, not having seen any others do that. Then again, this particular Jarack seemed more animalistic than others.

“Gods,” Mikito whispers next to me after the Galactic has been gone for five minutes, making me jump.

I stare at her, wondering when she managed to creep up on me. I must have been too focused on the damn monster.

“Johnson says move. No more daydreaming.”

Grunting, I scan the buildings one last time, an action that makes Mikito almost prod me in the back before I skitter forward. By this time, Sam’s already dropped down and disappeared down the alleyway, moving to the next point.

A day later, Ingrid comes back in the evening, armored jumpsuit torn and a slightly wide look in her eyes.

“Time to go.”

“Ingrid?” I say with a frown, already crossing to her.

Carlos beats me to it, a healing spell washing over her form, it’s tell-tale colors muted as Carlos pays the extra Mana to hide the illumination.

“Caught the bounty hunter sneaking up on us. He’d already caught Malik when I got there.”

“Malik?” Johnson asks concernedly.

“He’s fine. Watching the exit. We used Carlos’s goop potion on the body too,” Ingrid clarifies.

Johnson nods, relief flashing across his face. Without a further word, Ingrid steps aside, and the rest of the team crosses to the door toward our exit route. By now, this is all routine.

Chapter 15

Days of sneaking, creeping from one block to another. Our progress is agonizingly slow, our scouts forced to divert around clusters or, in some cases, push us through them at a run. And all the time, we make our way deeper, following the roughly mapped route.

Now, we all can see why. A simple piece of information, bought from the Shop. Because all that knowledge that can be bought cuts both ways.

After days, even if all the other areas we’ve been to haven’t panned out, we’re here. Overlooking the former mansion, now refurbished and upgraded to suit Galactic tastes. Plants that none of us recognize lie around the well-kept lawns, the only visible defensive measure. Gold and brown, its walls reflect the desert sunlight while misters keep the inside cool. A weird mixture of high-tech and low, but who am I to complain?

My first sight of two of the Master Classes comes a few hours later. First is a Jarack, a staggering nine-foot-tall monster, its fur doing little to hide the rippling muscles that make up its animalistic form. It walks out of the house and lounges on a chair, a haunch of barely cooked meat in its hand. After the haunch is mostly done, the creature tosses the meat to one of the cactus-like plants that lunges forward, its spiky body opening to clamp shut on the bone.

W’mee of the Three Sands, Heretic of the Dawn, Slayer of Grayak Scorpions and Master of the Yellow Pit (Level 18 Singer of the Thrice-Dipped Blades)

HP: 4280/4280

MP: 1780/1780

Conditions: Skin of Basalt, The Sands Blessing

“Sands Blessing?” I send to Ali, getting a mental shrug back. I almost want to growl at him, but without a direct connection to the Shop, Ali’s a little more limited in his research possibilities.

Still, after a moment he sends more information. “Probably an overall damage reduction buff.”

A thin, obsidian-skinned female clad in nothing but her birthday suit walks out soon after. A moment’s view and I realize that she doesn’t look dark, she literally is dark—a creature made of fleshy stone that shifts unnaturally as she walks. It’s almost as if she doesn’t have a skeleton. Standing next to W’mee, the woman speaks in the Jarack’s language. We’re too far away for Ali to hear and translate, so I can only consider the creature before me.

Km, Mistress of the Purple Pit, Slayer of Goblins, Hakarta, Jarack, Minaa and Griffons (Level 8 Obsidian Oracle)

HP: 980/980

MP: 7830/7830

Conditions: Skin of Obsidian, Earthen Link, The Stone’s Memory

We watch in silence for a time. Km returns to the residence before W’mee does an hour later. Without anything further to hold our attention, most of us fall back, leaving a single scout to watch and report. As much as we’d like to attack, we have to wait to give the others time to get in position.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Johnson says, his voice soft, “but you only get Slayer titles when you’ve killed a large number of individuals, right?”

“Yes,” Ali answers, frowning. “Total numbers vary depending on the creature—after all, otherwise it’d be real easy to get a Slayer of Ants or Goblins—but we’re looking at thousands at the minimum.”

“Balls…” curses one of the soldiers, his hair closely cut in an attempt to hide his balding top spot. Ian something. Redford. A quick glance at his name confirms it. “She’s a stone-cold killer, that one.”

Groans erupt. Somehow, the image of a cursing, punning soldier never made its way into collective media. Probably for the best.

“We’re thinking close combat build for the jackal?” Johnson says, pulling our attention back to business. At the nods and words of agreement, Johnson continues. “We’ll need teams three and five on him then. In the short term, Ms. Pearson—”

“Lana,” Lana reminds Johnson, who shrugs.

“Km looks to be specced as a Mage. She should be our first target,” I say, rubbing my chin. “I don’t like that Earthen Blessing—it could be a damage reduction or damage shifting Skill. If that’s the case, she’ll probably be a lot harder to kill than her health actually indicates.”

“If you boys open up on her, I’ll finish off the job,” Ingrid says from her position against the wall, where she’s carefully cleaning her nails with a knife.

“Not a bad plan,” I say. “We still got the last Master Class to handle.”

“The Bastion, right? Defensive caster?” Mikito says.

“Closer to Mike,” Ali corrects. “A Paladin-like build—good healing, good area control, and high defense.”

“Teams One and Four then?” Johnson says musingly.

“Four to six,” I reply. That’ll put one Hakarta team and the marines on him, which means mostly long-range fire and overwhelming explosions. It should, with care, at least push the Bastion to stay on the defensive and out of helping his teammates, allowing us to finish the fight.

“And you, Mr. Lee?” Johnson asks, his head tilted.

“I’ll throw in where I’m needed, but I’ll start on the mage once everyone is Ported here,” I say after some consideration.

Better to finish her than to wait. Johnson and his team, while strong, aren’t really suited for the all-out combat we can expect. It’s why we’re going to be pushing his people to the outskirts to guard against reinforcements when this finally kicks off.

After that, we sketch out the battle plans a bit more. There’s no guarantee we’ll fight all three of them at once, even if that is our goal. We have no concern about being overheard—after all, if they know enough to ask those kinds of questions, they know enough to find and end us.

Two days pass. Two days because there was no good way to estimate how long it’d have taken us to get in, so we’re working on an estimated timeline for everyone else to get into place. And so we find ourselves watching the Master Classers. It’s rare for all three of them to hang out at the same time in the same building. I would have expected them to stay by themselves, but whether it’s because they’re an old team, forced to work together, or some other form of politics, they’re all sticking to the same residence. That makes our life easier, since we know where they are. Theoretically. Problem is, they’re rarely home.

That fast becomes the major concern. That one day when the two Master Classers were together was an anomaly. Often, the mansion is empty of them all; other times, only a single Master Classer is around. It’s no surprise—the armies must be pushing forward, and the Master Classers are their most powerful weapons. While it’s not a good idea for them to always be on the front—and I understand the politics involved mean that they aren’t likely to follow orders that closely anyway—they probably have other, closer, resting areas. When they do come back to the mansion, we get to see some of the after-effects of the fights—a scorched tail here, a slightly different body configuration on Km there. And still, we wait.

This morning sees the return of Km, the mage looking as though she’s been put through the grinder. Instead of smooth, shiny skin, its scratched and marred, pieces chipped away and some dark fluid leaking out. The damage is surprising, since injuries under the aegis of the System heal within ten minutes mostly. I squint, calling up her Status.

Km (Level 8 Obsidian Oracle, Mistress of the Purple Pit, Slayer of Goblins, Hakarta, Jarack, Minaa, Griffons)

HP: 631/980

MP: 7830/7830

Conditions: Skin of Obsidian, Earthen Link (Disrupted), The Stone’s Memory (Corrupted), Chipped * 3

“Chipped?”

“Like it? I figured that’s the closest explanation I could find. It’s the Ez’s equivalent of losing a… hmmm… finger? Fingers? Since they’re fluid in their construction, damage for them is a bit longer lasting. She’ll need to rest to heal, but she will heal.”

“They did good,” I mutter softly, my voice muffled by the helmet.

Once she’s gone, we settle back into our usual routine of waiting. For a moment, I regard my friends, wondering if any of them will fall today. Ingrid’s in her corner, playing with her knife and a System-generated screen game. I still can’t see her Level and I’m fast believing that I never will. Still, I’m pretty sure from conversations I’ve overheard that she’s at least over Level 10 in her Advanced Class.

Mikito’s downstairs, going through her forms with a pair of soldiers, training as always. Between her constant training and dungeon delving, she’s the highest Leveled of our team at Level 17. Lana, on the other hand, is the lowest, barely crossing Level 4 now that she’s stopped splitting her experience. She’s busy on her screen, reading for pleasure now that she’s caught up on all her paperwork. When I asked Lana earlier what she was reading, she showed me the cover of a bodice ripper by someone called Georgette Heyer. Not surprisingly, I backed off pretty fast, though the predatory glint in her eye made me wonder if she was getting the wrong idea.

Both Sam and Carlos have caught up with Lana, having spent more time dedicated to their actual Classes, and are at Level 9 and 10. They’ve taken over a floor upstairs after having promised to be careful about the kind of experiments they’ll do. They’ve roped in a couple of Johnson’s men, when they aren’t on watch, to help with their experiments.

Me? I just curled up and got back to reading.

… to work around the low sample size of Master Class subjects, we used a large number of specialized Advanced Classers, many of whom have dedicated their unassigned attributes to enhance assigned attributes. As such, we were able, as you can see in the following graph, to gather a statistically significant sample size of individuals with attributes above 500. This researcher does understand that the limitation of insufficient Master Class subjects might alter the results of this experiment, but believes that, following research done by Re & Makow and the Vuu Institute, such differences will be minimal.

Initial results from the experiment (see attached charts 42, 43, 44) indicate that overall increases in abilities do not progress in a highly correlated fashion. Overall trends do indicate a diminishing return upon reaching attribute levels over 100 (approximately, see additional discussion by Wexq, Fre, and Immik for attribute level progression). However, when examined from the perspective of species traits, a closer direct relationship between levels may be found.

It is advanced in this paper that it is due to some of the inherent features in a+ species that dictate the level progression in attributes for an individual. By understanding and conducting further research on each individual, it might be possible to ascertain the specific increases and alterations that increases in an attribute might create on a physical, mental, and molecular basis.

Hours creep by as I work through the dense scientific paper, jumping from one article to another, following the rabbit hole of information. Sometimes I have to put down a note, as I’ve yet to purchase those papers or referenced books. Other times, I find myself jotting notes about mistakes or areas I disagree with.

I’m so caught up in what I’m doing, I barely notice the heat of the California sun beating down on the un-air-conditioned room we’re in or when Johnson hisses at us. I turn, and he raises a single finger, pointing at the window. It doesn’t take me long to see the Bastion sauntering back with a grin. Once again, I reflect on the three-fingered, mildly-scaled figure with its long tail, wondering where exactly they came across the lazy special effects guy to do his makeup. Seriously, how “non-human” he looks is as bad as some old sci-fi TV shows, other than the too-realistic fingers and tail.

S'hu’mma, Defender of The Sixth Oasis (Level 16 Sand Bastion)

HP: 4880/4880

MP: 4190/4190

Conditions: None

A second later, a chirp comes from Johnson’s earbud. He stiffens, tilting his head as he listens. My lips press together, knowing that there’s only one way he’s getting any information—single-use extra-strong communication options from the Shop. They’re single-use since Miller bought the best they had. We have no clue how strong the disruption fields the Zarrie have are, so we limited each team to two communications devices.

Johnson listens before he nods and looks up. “Gather up.” Within seconds, we’re all gathered around the Sargent. “We’re a go for Operation Barracuda. We take the Bastion first, then the Oracle. Redeemer will hold back.”

I grunt, eyeing the quantum lock in the corner of my eyes. There’s barely a murmur from my friends or the soldiers as they pull back, Lana stopping for a moment to squeeze my shoulder. I notice one of the soldiers exit, obviously to alert the rest of the team.

Within seconds, the group have gathered their belongings and left the building, leaving me alone. I turn back to the windows to watch, unable to do anything as yet. Bastion has stopped moving forward, his head cocked, a readiness through his body that was not there before. Obviously, Johnson’s message was noted. From my vantage point, knowing what to look for, I can see my team moving forward, using cover like the pros they’ve become.

“Come on…” Ali mutters, staring into space.

A flicker in the lock, and a few seconds later, a low rumble from the east. So soft I would never have heard it before the System and the increase in my Perception. For the puppies and Lana though, it’s clear as day, from the way they shift and stare before turning away. Bastion obviously hears it, his lips pulling apart, but he makes no move, continuing to stand in the middle of the streets. A flicker of movement in the mansion that holds the Ez is all the indication I get about her. Thankfully, the vast majority of the houses around here are empty, the humans having congregated around the Shops and the Galactics having either done the same or gone out fighting.

I force myself to breathe as my chest tightens, anxiety creeping up on me as time crawls by. Minutes of stasis is broken by Bastion snarling and walking toward the mansion. As he does so, I spot another group approaching. A quick dial-in of my helmet gives me some details. Ali provides more.

“All four Advanced Classes. Three fighters, one spellcaster,” Ali says.

Meeting Bastion right outside the mansion, the Advanced Classers jabber and yowl away. I snarl slightly, realizing that our team is running into more trouble than they counted on. But there’s nothing I can do.

The battle starts with a barrage of spells, beam discharges, and grenades targeted on Bastion. The first few land on him, unobstructed by any Skill, and he staggers, light cuts running across his body. Within seconds, the barrage stops hitting as a shield forms around the four. The Jarack Advanced Classers spin around—two pulling rifles, another a giant axe, while the healer buffs the group—moments before the close combat fighters attack, exploding from behind the hastily thrown wall.

Ingrid stabs the healer, putting her knife into its throat and ripping sideways. It gurgles, not dead but disabled, clutching at its furred throat. As it falls down, Roland appears from the shadows and pounces on it, jaws clamping on his head and crushing while its feet claw at the body. I know that strike, Massive Pounce, and it adds a stun effect, along with massive bonuses to damage. A part of me pities the healer. A very, very small part.

Meanwhile, the puppies target the Bastion. Shadow goes low, ripping into ankle and knee, while Howard goes high, clamping its jaws around a hastily thrown up arm. Strong as the Master Class might be, physics still have a say in this world, and he gets taken down to the ground. As the Bastion struggles, Anna lashes out with her flames at the Jarack Advanced Classers, her attacks reflecting off the remaining shield and cooking them from within.

Caught outside the fast-created shield wall, Mikito and Lana are attacking it with fury, doing their best to wear it down while Carlos stays back, his gun held ready to deal with reinforcements. Without the Master Class controlling it, the shield wall seems to be lacking its offensive abilities, which is good. Redford is working his magic, ripping a slowly growing hole with his magic while the others get ready to scurry in. The tiny hole is sufficient, allowing Sam to send in drones to lay down additional cover fire.

Surprise keeps the Galactics on the backfoot for a few precious seconds, but soon enough, the Galactics recover. The puppies get thrown aside, blasted away by the Bastion with a Skill. The Master Classer stands up, looking only mildly damaged after having been chewed upon. While searching his surroundings, he bats Roland out of the air when the tiger pounces at him. Smartly, the First Nations woman has disappeared already, her job with the healer complete. Unfortunately, the remaining pets aren’t as lucky. The Advanced Classers turn their attacks on Anna, who takes a beating, her fires doing little to ward off the blades and beams.

Lana screams, watching as Anna is hurt. Carlos and one of Johnson’s men focuses on the fox, doing their best to prop up the pet’s health. But it’s a losing cause with so many attacks focused against the creature. A final swing sends the fox flying, her body nearly severed in two, limp and bloody. Still, her sacrifice was not for nothing. Johnson and his men spill into the gap, turning the Advanced Classers on them. Mikito darts in soon after, headed straight for the Bastion.

As the Master Classer turns his attention to the assailants outside, a spike erupts from the wall, intent on tearing apart Johnson’s shield breaker. Another of his men steps in, holding forth his hands and stopping the spike cold. There’s strain on the soldier’s face as his Mana shield diverts the attack, but he can do nothing as another plunges into Lana’s side, ripping open her shoulder.

A rumble, this time much closer to us, distracts everyone for a moment. At the same time, the teleportation lock disappears and I bare my teeth. Barely a minute has passed since the attack, but already Km is on her way out. I decide to put a stop to that, as well as trigger my side of this desperate plan. I step backward then rush the wall, springing at full speed.

Blink Step. Once. Then again.

Vertigo rushes through me at the sudden shift of space again and again, but it disappears as quickly as it comes, allowing me to use my built-up momentum to slam into the newly emerged Oracle. A part of me notices that she seems to still be slightly damaged, but I’m mostly focused on my sword, the newly formed blade twisting in her body. Surprisingly, it only gets a few inches deep. A moment later, Thousand Blades is activated, blades forming next to my hand as I twist the sword, forcing the newly formed blades to arc toward her body. Surprised or not, she flips backward, gracefully avoiding my attacks while a rock shelf lifts me into the air.

Twisting while airborne, I focus. Not on her, but on the Portal I need, creating it so that the waiting teams can stream in to help, splitting my focus between Ali’s and my views. Flying through the air as I am, the hastily cast Portal hangs two feet above the air and slightly canted, but that doesn’t stop the Hakarta who are waiting.

“Teams Two, Three, Five, and Six are scrambling. We need the Portal for four minutes, Redeemer,” Alvarez barks over the newly restored communication channel.

Rock wraps around me, quickly engulfing my body. I grunt, feeling my connection to the Portal waver a little, and I’m forced to rely solely on Ali’s view and our connection. As the rock constricts me, my concentration wavers before I bite my lip and focus. Armor, meant to stop projectiles and beam weaponry, does nothing to stop the attack as she compresses my body, crushing bone and stealing air from my lungs. My health drops and I realize I have no shield. I curse my carelessness, having paid so much attention to the fight and my friends’ situation that I neglected my own preparations.

I focus through the pain, biting my bottom lip as my attention splits. Spells form, boosting my regeneration first. Then healing to fix bones that are slowly being crushed, skin that sizzles as the Oracle adds heat to the liquid rock around me. But still, I stay within her attack, forcing her to concentrate on me as the Portal spits out our friends. Trading pain for people.

Of course, like me, the caster can split her attention. Many of the first Hakarta to jump in are now engulfed in thigh-high mud, trapped. But rather than let it stop them, the Hakarta are grabbing and tossing incomers out of range of the spell, accepting the pain to allow their friends to engage the Oracle. Seeing her attacks failing to stop them, she falls back, a pair of rock elementals flowing up from the ground to slow her attackers.

“Move, move, move,” chants one of the Hakarta. Galactics or not, it seem certain words are universal.

In the shield, Mikito and Ingrid are sparring with the Bastion, forcing him to pay attention to them while Roland sneaks in to land his occasional attacks. The puppies and drones have joined forces to harass the Advanced Classers, the drones throwing out beam attacks, napalm, and flash bursts to confuse and hurt, as well as the occasional vertical shield to block attacks and jar bodies. Meanwhile, Johnson and the remnants of his team in the shield are picking off each Advanced Classer, pouring fire and flame while Carlos does his best to heal everyone. Already, the soldier who had guarded the hole opener is on the ground, unmoving.

“Boy-o, she’s not channeling anymore,” Ali informs me, bringing attention back to my own condition.

I realize he’s right—the rock’s no longer crushing, just sizzling. I Blink Step and pop up behind the Oracle.

“Boo,” I whisper hoarsely. Not that she can hear me, not through my helmet.

Once more, I thrust my sword forward, lunging into full extension. I use Cleave and Elemental Strike at the same time, adding to my attack. The blade, empowered by Skill and physics, plunges through her empowered, buffed body.

Blade Strike. Twisting with my hips, I rip the sword out sideways, the initial edge of my attack burrowing through her body to aid my movement. My blade catches, barely shifting a few inches in her body, but the scream of grating rock and the fresh, oily liquid that flows from her speaks of grievous injury. Even as I recover, a Hakarta in what I can only describe as spiky football armor tackles her away from me. He’s closely followed by his entire team, each of them piling onto her, the rubble of her stone elementals a testament to their effectiveness. As I move to join them, a razor cloud of dust and shattered earthen flooring rises, cutting into exposed skin and blinding those within it. Reflexively, I stagger backward.

“Redeemer!” Johnson shouts, dragging my attention back to the shield.

I grunt, surprised to see that the Bastion is not only still standing but managing to float away with little damage, his shield now constricted around his body. Globs of energy form around the shield, shooting forward once in a while to attack the gathered Advanced Class team members, forcing them to block the attacks. He might be mostly unharmed, but not so the Jarack Advanced Classers. Mikito, unable to reach the Master Classer, has thrown herself against the unfortunate Galactics. The last member falls, unable to get his footing under the combined assault of the Samurai and the puppies.

I glance at my Mana, snarling as I assess the fight. Not enough. I will Sabre to activate a Greater Mana Potion and feel the hypodermic needle punch into my skin. The liquid rushes through my body, increasing my Mana. Another thought has me drawing upon the Mana Battery to fill my empty tank. It’s a rush, but it makes me shudder slightly too, as it always does. But it’s enough, more than enough.

“Foolish. You bugs will not survive,” the Bastion hisses, his voice slithery and cold, beady gold eyes glittering with malice. He’s confident, safe in the protection of his shield.

“Not today,” I say, raising my sword above my head.

I call forth the Skill, stepping forward and cutting as I do so. Around me, twelve ghostly swords appear and repeat my attack, Blade Strikes arcing out from the newly formed swords to smash against the Bastion’s shield, each strike thrice the size and intensity of any I’ve conjured before. It smashes into the Bastion’s already weakened shield, shattering it and cutting into his flesh.

Moments later, Carlos fires his little grenade / potion launcher directly at the Master Classer. The Bastion snorts dismissively, seemingly undamaged from that attack, his body already visibly healing. Other attacks from the team bounce off him, but then a look of surprise flashes across his face.

“Ikaaaaaaaaaaaa?” the Bastion screams as he plunges to the ground, gravity reasserting itself on his floating form.

“He can’t use Skills for the next few seconds!” Carlos shouts, alerting us of the opportunity he’s given us.

Without coaching, the rest of the long-range attackers open up, throwing Spells and Skills at the prone form. Everyone opens up. Behind me, I hear the continued battle as Teams Two and Three keep the Stone Oracle busy, shattering walls and setting the dried ground on fire as that tempest of rock howls.

I’d help, but reeling from Mana loss, I find myself sitting down. I’m not completely out of Mana, but with barely a hundred left, it’s close enough that I feel sick. Mana sickness from overuse and overdrawing of Mana is a major issue for those of us with high Mana levels. It’s a weird phenomena since even a year ago, this level of Mana would have been my maximum. The loss of Mana is almost like drug withdrawal, or what I think a drug withdrawal would feel like.

By the time I recover, drawing on my Mana Battery to fill the hungering void in my body, the battle is nearly done. Tough as the Bastion might be, without his protective Skills, his health falls like a waterfall under the combined assault of our teams. Even the close-range fighters like Mikito have long-range attacks which they add to the pile, wiping away the Bastion’s health. As I raise my hand to attack, a notification pops up.

Level Up!

You’ve reached Level 49 as an Erethran Honor Guard. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 3 Free Attribute Points and 1 Class Skill Point to distribute.

One nice thing about this world is that if you pay attention, the System clues you in when someone is well and truly dead. Small things like experience gains—though just by being part of this war, I’m getting a small trickle of experience constantly—and sometimes, bigger notifications like this one. I push the notification away, looking for the Oracle. Instead, I see the two teams tasked with her attack coming back. Half of them split off to deal with the carnivorous cactus inside the compound.

“Report,” Johnson says to one of the other soldiers.

“Sir, the last target is currently engaged southwest with the Marines,” the soldier replies. “General Miller informs you that you and the Redeemer are on independent command for now. Forces from Fort Irwin are recovering from the attack conducted by the Oracle and the Bastion.”

Johnson’s lips tighten, obviously understanding what the soldier’s implying. If they’re recovering, it means the two Master Classers must have laid on the hurt. Still, there’s nothing much to be done about it now, and if there is revenge to be taken, we’ve certainly done so. The smoking corpse that Ingrid is busy looting is more than testament to that fact.

“We dealt with the Oracle?” I say, frowning as I turn back. A flicker of shame crosses the faces of the teams designated to handle her—at least those not covered by full-face masks. “What happened?”

“She created a series of stone simulacrum. Simulacra? Your English is very imprecise. By the time we destroyed them all, she’d slipped away,” one of the Hakarta answers. “Probably an Earth Movement Skill or Spell.”

I grimace, hating that we didn’t manage to finish off both the Master Classes. That was the point of our attacks after all. Now, we’ll have to track her down again. If we can.

“Redeemer. By your leave, I’ll take my men and attempt to penetrate the next settlement to remove their shield. This settlement shield still needs to be destroyed and its City Core taken,” Johnson says, offering his “recommendation.”

“Sure. Team Two, hit the shield generator. Team Three, we need communication back. Johnson, get us a way into the next settlement. The rest of us are going to hit the City Core. We’ll keep hitting them until they turn around and hammer us. And remember, we’re the distraction now, not the main event,” I say, glancing at the teams. I get nods all around, and I find myself smiling grimly. “Good. Move people. We’ve got work to do.”

Chapter 16

Hours later, we’ve managed to take down the shield generator and take the City Core for the section of town that comprises Alhambra and parts of south Pasadena. A part of me is amused by the first, thinking more of a classic board game than desert-baked avenues.

“Anything?” I ask as we walk out of the Core room, Kim already patched in and feeding me settlement data.

Ali and Kim feed much of the relevant data to the teams still in the settlement, directing them to the last few holdouts we can locate. Luckily, it’s something that can be done in the background, leaving me mostly free from the buzz of conversation.

“Nothing,” Alvarez says, shaking his head. “General Miller indicates that they’ve pulled back all forces to the north and south. Both armies are advancing with minimal resistance and casualties. Scouts have yet to ascertain the enemy’s gathering point, but it’s believed to be somewhere in south Los Angeles.”

“You thinking they’re looking for a knock-out fight?” I say, frowning.

If they’re willing to give up land to concentrate their forces, whichever army they hit will suffer unless we can join forces. Theoretically, once we’ve got all our people together, we’ll have the advantage of numbers. But it doesn’t matter if they hammer us to pieces while we’re gathering.

“If they’re smart, sure,” Alvarez replies. “The general is leaning toward that, so the armies are moving to link up in Anaheim.”

A few additional words of clarification and a borrowed map gives me an idea. Within the next few hours, the Fort Irwin army should be at south LA, hammering on the settlement shield. The marines will take longer, possibly as long as a half day since they’ve got at least two settlements to punch through. Of course, they could go around, but there’re dangers in that too.

“We moving to link up?” I say with a frown.

I hate giving back the City Cores, especially after we’ve paid for them with blood and tears, but as I glance sideways, I note that the soldiers and my team are already interfacing with the local resistance, who’ve come out of the woodwork. A slightly bitter part of me wonders where they were during the actual fighting. I have to chide myself for that uncharitable thought—the resistance has been conducting hit-and-run tactics for the last year, so it’s no wonder they weren’t exactly set up for a final push. As it stands, their need to hide has keep their Levels suppressed—which is probably another reason they’ve survived so far. Still, they’re numerous and enthusiastic which, all things considered, is the best we can do.

“Yes. Once everything’s settled.” Alvarez adds leadingly, “But we don’t require you or your team at this time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I should get going,” I say. “Though communication will be a problem if I leave.”

“Here.” Alvarez reaches out, a small boxy contraption in his hand.

I take it, my eyes lighting up slightly as I read the notice.

Joola Communication Booster (Tier II)

Military Grade Communication Booster able to deliver your message where and when it needs to be. Joola Tech is the only way to go when what you need to say needs to be heard!

Effect: Disregard all communication interference from shields, communication scramblers, Skills, and Spells below Tier of communication booster. Fifty percent chance of breaking through equivalent tier blockages (chance decreases dependent on proximity to emanating blockage)

Requirements: 1 Hard Point

“Nice…” I stare at the box, unsure of how to use it.

“Slot it into Sabre, boy-o,” Ali says.

I sigh, transforming the mecha. That’s when I run into the next problem. I’m out of slots. After a moment’s hesitation, I extract the Monolam Temporal Cloak, pulling it into my inventory, and slot in the communication booster. There’s a little hum, some movement as Sabre alters itself and the box to ensure that it works. If I’m going to be blaring my position away anyway, there’s no point using the Temporal Cloak.

A few hasty goodbyes and one much less hasty kiss and I’m on the move, headed to meet up with Johnson and his team. They’ll help me breach the necessary shields, hopefully only requiring me to use the damn communication booster once. It’s not exactly a good feeling painting a target on your back.

“Redeemer,” Wier greets me, shaking my hand as I stop outside the impromptu command center set up in the midst of a mall.

“Colonel,” I say, looking around at the organized chaos. “What’s up?”

“We’re entrenching,” Wier says, waving to encompass the hurried work. He doesn’t lead me in, which makes me frown, but I don’t say a thing. I’m not running the war and… “We need you to set waypoints through the line if you can.”

I grunt, knowing he was about to say that. It’s not hugely surprising, since we own this settlement now. Being set up right across from south LA, where we’re pretty certain the Galactics have gathered, we’ll need to be ready. Still, before anything else, I pull a Portal open to drag over Lana and company. When the teams are through and the Portal shut, I get back on Sabre, only to be stopped by Lana.

“Where are you going?” Lana says with a frown.

“Got to set some waypoints along the line and through the city.”

“Then I’m coming,” Lana says. “The boys need a run anyway.”

“That’s…” I frown, and she glares at me. I shut up, deciding that I could use the company. Or perhaps it’s her who could use it.

We take off, Wier having updated my map with his recommended path. At first, we ride in silence, the only sound the soft pad of furred paws, the crunch of walls being torn down, and the distant bark and hiss of firearms.

As the silence grows brittle, I turn my head sideways, speaking to her over the communicator and on a private channel. “How are you doing?”

“I’m healed.”

“I mean, well, you know. Emotionally,” I say. “Ann—”

“We knew it was a danger. We had to take the healer down first, and none of us could get any closer. It was a calculated risk to get Ingrid enough time,” Lana says softly, shaking her head.

“I understand,” I say. “But I didn’t ask if the plan was good. I’m asking how you’re doing.”

“I’ll survive. After this. After it’s all over, I’ll make you stop and we’ll find a place and I’ll cry my eyes out. And you’ll hold me. Afterward,” Lana says softly, her words almost an order to put an end to this conversation.

I feel my chest constrict, the ache at the raw, suppressed pain making my eyes blur for a second. Damn it.

Thankfully, without the infamous Los Angeles traffic in play, the entire process takes only a few hours. I make sure to swing wide, patrolling along both the border and where the teams have dug in and a little behind, letting my “map” for where I can drop people off build. After that, we get directed to a nearby apartment building, the highest vantage point available where the rest of the strike teams have gathered.

Not that we have to wait long. I’ve barely got my feet out from under me and a second plate of food in my stomach when the call comes. The Zarrie are on their way, and this time, they’re not playing around. Once they actually cross their settlement shield, we get a direct feed from the drones.

Galactics, so many of them I can’t even count them. It’s not as if I ever learned the skill of mass counting, but it has to be hundreds, maybe thousands. The way they move, I’d be surprised if they weren’t organized in teams like us, flitting forward across the roads and around the buildings. The Galactics are a mixture, nearly half consisting of Jaracks, but there’s Ez, the carapaced fighters, lizard creatures like Bastion, and a scattering of other Galactic types. As always, they’re dressed in a mixture of weaponry and armor, from melee weaponry to modern armor, though most lean toward the last. For a long time, I scan, searching among the faces, before I’m interrupted.

“Got you!” Sam crows.

A moment later, the video feeds shift and split. Highlighted in green, in the midst of the crowd, is the Jarack Master Class and the Oracle. I frown, almost wanting to ask if he’s sure. I hate to say it, but the Jarack and Ez, most of them look similar to me. If not for Ali’s help, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

“Ali…”

“Marked.”

I grunt in thanks, watching as they near. An idle thought of opening a Portal to toss a few spells on top of the Master Classers pops into mind, but I discard the thought just as fast. I doubt we’d kill them. And truthfully, I wouldn’t be surprised if the teams next to the Master Classers are there to act as bodyguards. We’ll have to deal with them, but surprise won’t count in this equation.

Alvarez, as always, is with us, having made his way here by now. He walks over to where we’re staring at the main projected screen and squats next to me before he speaks. “We’ll be updating your map with where we need the Portals. But your feedback on which Master Class to target first is sought.”

“The Ez,” I say. “Oracle’s a spellcaster or wide-area Skill user. She’s more dangerous to more people. She’s also shown the ability to run away and the willingness to do so. W’mee’s a brick. He’ll keep going and going, but he ain’t going to be doing much damage overall. Take her down first, focus on containing him.”

Alvarez smiles slightly, nodding. “That’s what we thought too.”

“But—”

“But they’re likely going to be expecting that.”

“Did you just use me as the dumb man’s plan?” I ask slightly. Alvarez, of course, doesn’t reply, so I grunt, waving him to continue.

“We’ve got other plans for the teams,” Alvarez says. His hand shifts, my map updating a little before he outlines the updated plan.

I grunt and listen, turning my head to stare at the remaining members of the teams. We’ve all taken a beating, most teams having at least one member and some more than one. These guys are the cream of the crop, people who have shown not just good Levels but an ability to adapt in combat. And yet, the losses are clear. I cannot help but imagine what it’s like for those unlucky enough to be on the frontlines. And a feeling in my gut says that it isn’t the end of our losses yet.

When the armies clash, we watch. The men from Fort Irwin are as dug in as they can be, but the marines have yet to make their way up. By the time they do, this will be over.

Initially, it’s a series of probes, weapons, and spells lobbed at each other at a distance, artillery—or the System equivalent—lobbed at each line as the Galactics push ahead. Without the Bastion, the Galactics are using a mix of Skills and technology to shield their lines, much like us. The temperature rises as fireballs bloom and beam weapons rip the sky apart in flashes of azure light. Ozone permeates the air, along with the unmistakeable smell of cooked human flesh. Galactics all smell different too, burnt fur biting at the nose and alien blood bringing a fruity smell.

So damn much blood. It doesn’t help that the System regenerates it, allowing creatures with legs that have been blown off to crawl forward as they “heal” from the damage. The ground grows soggy, earth churned up under repeated assaults, sewage and other lines exposed to the sky. We can feel it, the searing heat on our flesh, the bitter cold that washes over us as a spell is formed, the wind constantly swirling as different spells take effect.

A woman stands to fire her crossbow and is impaled by a spear. Another mage scrambles forward in front of a fallen friend, his hands crossed as he takes the brunt of an attack, his Mana Shield tearing apart under the stress. A group of Galactics rush the line, the carapaced tank holding forth a shield made up of shield generators and solid Galactic steel. They push forward, fur burning and carapace shattering as area effect attacks hammer them, ivy leaves grasping and tearing. An Advanced Class soldier steps forward, his body glowing, and tears apart the shield with a single exhalation. A moment later, the soldier falls, his shoulder ripped from his body by a whip of flame. All of these moments are but a small portion of the heroics that happen all across the line.

And still, I watch, my stomach clenching as I desire to be out there, doing something.

“Alvarez…” Mikito says softly, asking the major where, when, can we act.

Alvarez shakes his head, his concentration still on the channels and orders he hears.

“This is just the opening,” Sam says softly, his eyes hard. Of us all, he’s got the most experience, the most time seeing the battles up close and personal with his drones. Mikito and I might have been on the front-lines, but he sees it all from above. “They’ll need us when it gets hot. When the Galactics are stuck in. We’re the cavalry.”

Hate it or not, Sam’s right. The vast majority of the army has yet to arrive. No, better for us to wait. Miller has the same clues, the same vision. And when it’s time, he’ll call on us.

“Redeemer. Updating map.” Alvarez’s voice breaks my focus. “Portals at the green. Team leaders, your maps are updating too.”

Affirmatives are voiced all around while I conjure, going by the numbers. I punch out the first Portal as instructed, ten feet above the air so that it can form. No forming Portals inside people or objects. Sort of like appearing in other matter when you shift from one quantum state to another. It hurts. A lot. And sometimes ends in violent explosions. And when I say sometimes, I mean more likely than most. There’s an entire Galactic channel dedicated to those who don’t take that warning seriously.

I watch the first team rush through the Portal, tossing explosives and potions in before them to clear the way. Seconds later, they’re piling through, Skills and spells activating in a flurry as they land on top of the group that has breached our lines, filling the gap and giving the reinforcements time to arrive. No time to watch them though. The Portal slams shut and I focus to open the next.

Again and again, Portals open, depositing teams on the frontlines. Hitting crucial areas to give us an edge. Once a short distance away from the front to reinforce a weakening area. Another time right on top of a group of healers who’ve been doing a stellar job. Lana and company drop among a team of spellcasters, Mikito and Ingrid tearing into the group while the puppies and Roland corral them and keep back the reinforcements. Sam rolls in right behind in his armored drone, ready to reinforce, his beam cannon firing. Carlos rides behind it, his potion /grenade launcher in hand.

Within minutes, I’m nearly out of Mana and forced to rely on a Greater Mana Potion. Blessings and buffs reinforce my regeneration, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough. Alvarez watches me, lips pursed as he waits for me to drop the last couple of teams. I pull a little from the Mana Bracer, but the need isn’t crucial yet, so I only take a little. In the meantime, all we can do is watch the screens.

Our reinforcements make a difference, smashing the groups they’ve targeted and shifting the tide of battle. Lana and company jump on the puppies, riding them through the fray to return to the line, shields flaring as they try and fail to allay the damage. Meanwhile, the Hakarta jump team dealing with the healers have triggered sonic pulsers, stunning those around them as they leapfrog back. Their greater mass lets them pick up and throw their opponents aside when blocked. I even see one particularly large Hakarta pick up a carapaced enemy and use the unlucky bastard as a shield.

“Whoa! And there he goes,” Ali exclaims, pointing.

I tilt my head and blink, seeing a twenty-foot-tall creature where W’mee used to be. Though his titular name makes sense now, the creature wielding a flexible, three-bladed whip-sword in one hand. Each strike reaches tens of meters backward, cutting into flesh and armor as though its soggy newspaper, leaving sprays of blood and mashed meat behind.

“What happened?” I growl.

“Mages have been keeping him penned in with multiple disruptive spells. He’s been doing some damage, but the line’s been falling back and reforming to keep him and his men boxed in. Looks like Pee-Pee decided he’d had enough,” Ali explains.

“And…?”

“Transformation Skill. Must be part of his Master Class Skill set. Those things have a limited duration though. If we can keep him penned, once it’s gone, he’ll be weakened,” Ali says.

“How long?” Alvarez asks urgently.

“No idea.” Ali shrugs. “Might be ten minutes, might be an hour. Depends on the Skill, the rarity, and of course, how many points he’s put in.”

Alvarez snorts and relays information. Obviously, I’m not the only one caught by surprise. I absently wonder if they’re about to purchase the information from the Shop. If they have the time. Turning my head, I search for and find Km, the rock-creature pushing back the defenders she faces. Luckily, prior experience shows. Instead of facing her directly, the teams have stacked as many shields as they can, along with drones, guardians, and long-range fighters, in front of the Oracle. Only a few elementally resistant fighters stand directly in her way, taking the pounding and being healed constantly by a brace of healers who themselves are supported by others. Behind Km, other Ez are flowing forth, their skin reflecting different types of rock—granite, brick, clay, and others I don’t understand. Luckily, they seem content to take their time and follow her. Still, the Ez’s advance, while slower, is across a much wider area than the Jarack’s.

“Ready,” I say, raising my finger.

A few moments later, the next Portal slams shut and we’re sitting in silence again. One more team, just another few minutes. But in a battle, a few minutes can be a lifetime and the team I dropped to slow down the Jarack is getting hammered. The tank, a lanky soldier who looks as if he could come apart in a single hit, keeps getting up no matter how many times he’s hit. His blood flies as the whip-like blades flick through the air, cutting into the tank and a few brave souls.

“This is bullshit, boy-o,” Ali says softly, pointing at the screens. “They’re getting their asses creamed. Which is weird to bring food into your posteriors…”

“Never mind that,” I say as the Jarack grabs the lanky gentleman and sticks him in his mouth, worrying the shoulder with those powerful jaws. And still, the tank fights on, somehow still alive. Beside the struggling pair, the healer keeps casting spells, pouring in everything he has while the others attack and cut, trying to do their best to hurt the Jarack and failing, forced to dodge as the three blades swirl again. “Enough.”

“Redeemer?”

“I’m going in. You guys are going to have get there yourselves. I recommend running.” I stand, eyeing the distance.

Ali’s already flying forward as fast as he can, understanding what I intend to do. Hopscotching my way there is faster and cheaper for me. A thought and the Mana Battery floods my body, dumping hundreds of Mana points into me for the upcoming fight.

“Redeemer, you can’t do this. We need you—” Alvarez says.

“You need me out there,” I interrupt, waiting for Ali. “Your men can’t take him. I can. Throw the rest at the Oracle. I’ll slow him down at the least.”

“Your orders—”

I don’t answer, instead activating Blink Step when Ali hits the maximum distance. I land and run, Sabre boosting my movement speed as I cover the distance to my target, intent on conserving as much as I can. Four hundred plus Mana right now. Barely enough to do anything.

“Redeemer! You are defying your orders—”

The communicator cuts off with a thought and I Blink Step to get closer. I’m moving as fast as I can. No more worries, no more concerns and half-doubts if I’m doing this right. Just the run, the necessity of battle.

The soldier is tossed aside, his body halved but still alive. He’s screaming, struggling to crawl back to his body, when the Jarack crosses the distance to the healer and mage. Blood keeps blossoming from the wounds across W’mee’s body as bullets tear open wounds, beams burn flesh, and spells cut into him. But it’s all surface, nothing going deep. He’s torn into our defensive line, well behind where our teams have dug in. The remaining members of the shattered line fire against those who try to take advantage of the gap while W’mee keeps the reinforcements from arriving.

W’mee of the Three Sands, Heretic of the Dawn, Slayer of Grayak Scorpions and Master of the Yellow Pit (Level 18 Singer of the Thrice-Dipped Blades)

HP: 39403 /42800

MP: 283/1780

Conditions: Skin of Basalt, The Sands Blessing, The Desert’s Son (Transformation)

“W’mee!” I roar, punching the volume up on my speakers as I finally arrive.

The Jarack pauses, staring at me as I stride forward, slowing down now that I’ve gotten his attention.

“Redeemer!” he howls, ignoring the others as his eyes narrow on me. He runs forward, taking my challenge as he laughs in his cackling, insane way.

“I need information on that Sands Blessing.”

“On it, boy-o. I’m getting data now, I’ll get you my guesses when I can.”

Three blades against my one. I could conjure the other five, but I never keep them up for long, the cost on my Mana Regeneration too high. Better to use them and make them disappear, fight in bursts. I need to keep him busy, distracted. I start the dance with the sonic pulser and mini-missiles loaded with grey goo, all meant to slow down my opponent. The pulser makes W’mee growl, the missiles are cut out of the air long before they reach him, and the couple that do land are unable to do much to slow him down.

“All combatants in this area, back off. I don’t want to get shot,” I snarl over the comms as a couple of shots graze by me, one bouncing off Sabre’s shielding.

The shooting slows down, then he’s here, blades whistling. My first block is wrong, catching the attack too far from the tip and allowing the whip to wrap over my sword to hammer into the Shield. My shield drops by nearly a third from just that aborted attack. The last blade luckily lands on the ground, missing me and my Shield by inches.

I see his hand swing sideways and I throw myself into a jump, spinning away before I’m wrapped up by the blades or have my foot chopped off. Within seconds, the blades are spinning again, coming back toward me as I land and dash forward. A side of a building is torn apart, the blades ripping through unenhanced stone and steel with casual ease. Even as it does so, W’mee changes the angle of his cut, catching a sniper and killing him.

No time to think, I form blades from my Skill, spinning my arms and setting up their angles, my eyes tight with focus. A calm settles over me. A battle calm, where my mind runs clear and clean, while around it, the raging fires of my temper burn. Clarity, anger, and speed. I grin beneath my helmet, feeling alive as I dance on the edge of oblivion.

The Jarack’s blades clash with mine, slithering and twisting as he attempts to cut through my floating ones, his movements hampered by their arcs and their sudden appearance and disappearance. But I can’t get close to him either, those blades twisting and turning like a blender blade around his body.

“What is this…?” W’mee howls, flicking his hand.

Three blades ripple, dancing and lashing out like snakes even as fires form and are expelled by their tips. I’m long gone, stepping aside and discarding my summoned weapons. All the while, I’m firing the Inlin and my missiles every moment I can. No grenades though. Nothing that would hide me and take away his focus. That’s not my job, not right now.

The Sands Blessing

Effect: Passive Buff. Provides a 11(?) increase in regeneration and 43(?)% increase in resistances while in suitable, desert-like atmospheric conditions.

“I’m barely scratching him,” I snarl at Ali.

My biggest gun is gone, my Mana potions unable to be used further to give me a boost. A missed block, a blade sneaking between my wall of swords, and my shield drops by a quarter. I fire the Inlin, armor-piercing bullets digging divots into his flesh. Another cut and yank, my sword ripped from my hand. I let him have it, calling another as I duck forward.

“I’m working on it!” Ali says, his voice tinged with a touch of desperation.

“Redeemer, hold him for one more minute. Reinforcements incoming.”

A quick step, one that I didn’t anticipate, and W’mee kicks me, throwing me into a building and out. My shield flares, Sabre showing nearly eighty percent loss of shield integrity. I’m good and he’s obviously not used to the Honor Guard’s fighting methods, but I can’t stay on the defensive only. Even as he crashes through the building, playing ugly brown monster to the building’s structure, I’m desperately trying to figure out what to do.

“No can do,” I grunt, making a decision.

I run forward as he exits the crumbling building, the momentary rush through the structure forcing the Jarack to stop swinging his blades. Just long enough for me to get close as he starts up those metallic shredders.

He snarls, blocking my first swing. Then the second. And the third. I stick close to him, taking clawed attacks on the shield, on Sabre’s armor when it fails, as I refuse to let him gain distance. I twist and dodge, stabbing his arm and legs, my blades hovering around me as he keeps attempting to back away. I’m doing little to truly hurt him, but each blow, blocked or successful, leaves a tinge of blue ice.

Freezing Blade, each attack slowing down the asshole. But it’s not enough, not by far. Even after ten strikes, he’s only a third slower. With a snarl, he glows, heat radiating from his body. Thankfully, the ice along his wounds does not dissipate. Instead, the heat burns Sabre’s armor, making me squint and sweat as asphalt liquefies. But it doesn’t kill me, doesn’t slow me down. Resistances cut both ways, and like him, I can take it. Ali, in the corner of my eyes, shoots straight up as he attempts to avoid the Skill, his Spirit body crisping while less fortunate, less mobile souls burn.

Body of Sun

Effect: Channels the power of the desert sun through the caster’s body. Deals 200 base heat damage per second.

Duration: Channeled

Red lights scream as Sabre seizes up, joints and armor melting away. The Jarack bounces back and away, finally free of me, his blades flicking close to lick at the mess that is my PAV. I snarl, making the decision to store the mecha once again. The action, the sudden change, and a twist of my upper body saves my heart, leaving a light wound across the chest. The moment the mecha is gone, along with my helmet, the temperature soars and the accumulated sweat evaporates as my skin blisters. Even as I shield my eyes, his blades plunge into my body, tearing it apart and sending me sprawling.

Thankfully, the Skill cuts off, though the remaining heat is still high enough to cook my flesh as I peel myself off the ground. So few blue dots in my minimap. His Skill might be over, but I’m too far away from him now to attack. I can’t hold him, not much longer…

“You did well, Redeemer,” W’mee says, cackling. “But you are no match for me.”

“No…” I cough, my throat dry, my head pounding as I realize my Mana reserves are barely more than a hundred. “No, I’m not.”

W’mee’s hand drops, the weapon swinging down, three blades glowing red with fire coming to end me. I can’t beat him. I never could. But that was never the point. As the blades whistle through the air, I Blink Step, taken high above by Ali.

Spells and artillery, mortars and potions fall. The combined attacks of dozens of stragglers, of people called from battle all around, splash against his body. I spin, twisting to look down at the fast-approaching body, my sword held out before me.

This fight was never just mine. It couldn’t be. No matter how strong a single person can be, a hundred scratches are enough. He knows it. Should have known it. But in the heat of battle, fighting someone who refuses to back down, who refuses to fall, who uses skills and Spells he has never met before, W’mee forgets. Blade plunging through the creature’s shoulder, mass and momentum driving it through the monster and sending us to the ground, my shin and arm crack under the sudden pressure. The other conjured blades follow, plunging deep into the monster, one accidentally punching through me and pinning us together.

Pain, as we struggle. The sword pinning us together is dismissed before it tears me apart as the Jarack twists and attempts to scramble away. I hang onto my original blade, stubbornly clinging to it as the creature’s high health now works against it, the blade unable to rip free. I keep him pinned, focusing on keeping him still as the attacks fall. Pain. More pain as flesh tears, bones crack, and blood boils. And blessed relief, as healing spells reach me, a never-ending torture as my body seesaws between the two.

Pain, in my body, in my head as I drain my strength, my Mana, my stamina to the extreme. The attack cuts deep, focused within the creature and unable to escape. As it twists, the sword slips and turns, facing away and finally pulling free. No more time, so I take the risk and release one last Blade Strike, my Mana insufficient and so the Skill takes from my flesh, my body. An explosive blast from another spell tears through me, cutting through my weakened body and throwing me away, my arm severed.

Then the ground, gooey and melted and hot. I skid, body creating a wave of asphalt that sticks and hurts and burns. And then darkness.

Chapter 17

New arms are weird. Having them regrow my lost arm in the Shop was the most expedient way of getting myself fixed after I came to, but it doesn’t feel right. Standing to the side of the Shop interface, I roll my shoulders again while I wait for the arm to feel better. Says something about the things the System probably does to us that after a few hours, even a completely new arm is forgotten and accepted.

Fighting the rest of the battle, once I woke up, with one arm was a new and interesting experience. Thankfully, the main fight was over by that point, the Oracle forced to pull back after she was once again severely injured. This time around, she triggered a short-range teleportation, most likely bought from the Shop. It wasn’t long after that we learnt that she left the planet. I guess no matter the level of loyalty, watching two other Master Class individuals die was more than a sufficient deterrent.

Once their Master Class support was down, the Zarrie pulled back, intent on fighting again another time. That’s when the other portion of Miller’s plan kicked in, the resistance fighters, the members of the 1st Special Forces group, and the vanguard of the marines making their presence know. Pinned between the three forces that were quite happy to rain long-range destruction down on the Zarrie, things got pretty bloody, or so I was told. Rather than risk even more loss of life, Miller let the Zarrie forces call a ceasefire when they sent a banner of truce.

I later learn that the marines had an even nastier time in their own fights. With the lines drawn for so long, their initial push was through entrenched positions. If it wasn’t for the fact that the marines seemed to have geared their squads for hard and fast fights with specialized melee, ranged, and mage teams, they might not have managed to push through.

For all that we might have disagreements, Miller is a damn professional. It’s only after the fight, during the ceasefire, that I learn that the Zarrie had sent more than a few assassins after him and the command structure. Luckily, the one thing California isn’t lacking is actors. I’m still not sure I’d have made the call he did, but it certainly allowed him to run the battle without major interference.

One of the few silver linings is the sheer volume of titles being awarded. Ali had a good time telling me about them. Some of the more memorable ones include Mikito’s Blood Warden, a couple of Last Stands, a Lord of Guts and Glory, and amusingly, Murphy’s Law Incarnated.

Right now, Miller, Wier, and a bunch of other politicians and interest groups are busy talking it up. Since we’re just allies, they’ve declined our participation in these talks, leaving Sam to listen in. Lana’s presence was declined, a few groups citing her unfair use of Charisma to influence matters. Rather than kick up a fuss, we stayed out of it. Luckily, Major Ruka has arrived, happy to be paid to play Galactic consultant.

“Still don’t see why they wanted a Hakarta and not me,” Ali grumbles, staring in the direction where the meeting continues to be held.

“Probably because they could do without your sarcasm.” Grunting, I shake my head and stretch, feeling my muscles shift as I marvel at the lack of pain.

In the corner of my eyes, I once more stare at the slowly blinking icon before I decide to acknowledge it.

Congratulations! You’ve reached Level 50!

Attributes automatically assigned. 3 additional attributes available to be assigned.

You may now choose a Master Class.

Would you like to do so?

(Y/N)

Finally. I’m tempted to look at the list, but doing so will start a process I can’t halt. Frustratingly enough, I’m unlikely to have a chance to choose anything really special, anything that will give me an edge, like the Honor Guard Class. But as Ali pointed out, I’m already broken enough as it is.

“John?” Lana calls, reappearing behind me.

She smiles slightly when I turn to face her, somehow having managed to not only change into new clothing but clean up. The simple cream blouse and yoga pants do wonders to show off her voluptuous form, making me drink in the view. It’s only the second calling of my name—or maybe third—that I answer her.

“Sorry. What?”

“How’s the new arm?” Lana says, wrapping an arm around my waist and sneaking in a kiss before I can answer. There are still shadows under her eyes, a tightness in the hug that speaks of her holding back grief.

“Good. Feels a little strange still, but it’s fine.” I give her another squeeze.

Still, for how relaxed things are, something feels off. Frowning, I tilt my head from side to side, wondering what’s bugging me. Lana’s the one to voice the problem first.

“Where’re the pups and Roland?” Lana speaks softly, eyebrows drawing together. For a moment she focuses then steps away from me, a hand materializing her shotgun as she opens her mouth to say something.

“Well, I am glad to hear that you are better…” The woman who walks over is seven feet tall, purple hair slicked back in a pixie cut that shows off coral-like ears and slitted yellow eyes. Her nose is almost non-existent, just a pair of nostrils with the slightest almost beak-like overhang.

Ayuri d’Malla of the Dawn, Breaker of the Sixth Legion, Hero of the Sixth Kumma Wars, Mistress of Knives, Bloodflower, Slayer of Kumma, Goblins, Mizza… (Level 42 Erethran Champion)

HP: 9830/9830

MP: 4740/4740

Conditions: Buffs. LOT OF BUFFS.

“Ali…?” I note the sudden flash of information above her, the lack of full disclosure as Ali translates the information quickly.

Behind Ayuri comes a pair of just normal Erethran Honor Guards, though both are close to hitting the Level cap. A single male and female companion to Ayuri.

“Redeemer of the Dead. What an interesting title,” Ayuri says, tapping her lips.

“What did you do to my pets?” Lana growls, stopped from raising her shotgun by my hand on her arm.

We don’t stand a chance, not against Ayuri herself and definitely not with two of her friends. Better to play nice. Especially since they don’t seem to be directly aggressive. Yet.

“Oh, they’re fine. We had to put them in stasis as they refused to let us in,” Ayuri says with a smile to Lana, her eyes flicking to the woman before dismissing the redhead as a threat. “We’re not interested in your petty squabbles.”

“What are you interested in?” I ask, knowing the answer even as I do so. There’s only one reason for the Erethran to be here, considering we’re nearly at the opposite end of the System Galaxy. Even for a new Dungeon World, they aren’t going to send a Champion all the way out here. At least, not just for the Dungeon World.

“You, of course, Redeemer. Imagine our surprise when we began to receive updates about how a member of the Honor Guard was gaining titles on the new Dungeon World. Even more so when he kept gaining Levels at an astounding rate. And then of course, he became a settlement owner…” Ayuri shakes her head. “Well, it was such an interesting piece of news. Considering the few we authorized to visit were still on the first ships.”

“Well, about that…” I pause as Ayuri’s initially benign, if slightly intimidating, visage changes, going flat.

“No need to explain, Redeemer. We know what happened. What we’re interested in is what will happen,” Ayuri says, closing the distance between us so fast I don’t even see her move. Even Mikito with Haste isn’t that fast. Androgynous body inches from mine, she looms over me, those tiny pupils judging me. “Were you perhaps considering becoming a Champion? Or an Honor Guard General?”

“You can’t be a Champion, boy-o, but the General is available,” Ali sends to me urgently.

“I can’t be a Champion—” I start.

“Quiet, Spirit. Speak again and we will banish you,” Ayuri hisses to where Ali is, flicking a glance backward to one of the Honor Guards. That Guard fixes her gaze on the Spirit, whose mocha skin loses color. “And how are we to believe that, Redeemer? You have already stolen the honor of our Empire once.”

“I—”

“Once a thief, always a thief, I say.” The voice that emanates from the last Honor Guard member is droll, bored as a Yukon summer day is long and deep.

“Enough,” I growl, my temper flaring after getting interrupted so damn often. Interrupted and subtly threatened. “Either let me answer in peace or fight me, because this lack of manners is getting damn tiring.”

“He barks.” The woman—Unilo—chuckles softly. “Perhaps I shall stop its whistling.”

“Whistling?” Lana mutters, uncertain.

“Do your dogs not whistle while they bark?” Unilo says, tilting her head.

“Uhhh, no,” Lana says firmly.

“Har. What weird creatures.”

Ignoring the pair, Ayuri stares at me till I break and speak. “What?”

“You have not answered my question. What Class do you intend to take now?”

“Well…” I say softly, playing for time as my mind spins. There’s something here, something nagging me about this entire encounter. “What does it matter to you?”

“About two moves,” Ayuri says with a smile.

“You’re threatening me.” I state that flatly, my hand to the side as I get ready to call my sword.

“Stating a fact. If you were to choose a Class that besmirches our honor, we would have to resolve the matter. Immediately.”

“I see.” I give in finally to the lead-in. “And what Class wouldn’t?”

“Why, none of them that you have now,” Ayuri states. When she gets no reaction from me, she turns toward the man. “Mayaya, you won the bet.”

“Yay,” Mayaya intones, still in that same bored tone. “I shall drink in pleasure.”

“So. Class?” I say again while Ali spins in a circle, obviously aching to speak but unable or unwilling to do so.

Lana looks perturbed, but I shake my head to her and she lets me lead this conversation. For now.

“You understand our position, of course. You cannot be a General. That would compromise too many things. And any Class below that is well, insulting,” Ayuri says, shaking her head. “So now we must kill you. Unless…”

“Go on,” I growl softly, getting tired of her playing this game and letting my impatience run through my voice. Now that we’ve been talking for a bit, I can sense her damn glee underneath all the threats. She’s having fun, and it’s pissing me off. Dangerous as she might be, I’ve just been through an entire war. Having her continue to play is testing what little patience I have.

“Unless you choose to take up a Class Quest. One that is only open to certain members of the Erethran Empire.”

“I see. And the catch is…?” I say.

“It’s a good Class Quest. Very powerful. Very popular to try. But somewhat lethal.”

“Somewhat?”

“Always!” Ali shouts, shaking his head as he finally can’t hold it in anymore. “No one’s succeeded in the last two hundred years.”

“Two hundred twenty-three years. Galactic standard,” Unilo says flatly then waves her hand.

The next moment, Ali disappears with a scream as he’s banished. Lana and I stare at Unilo, who shrugs as if that display of power was a minor thing. Which, I guess, for her it is.

“I see.” I hold up my hands as if weighing the two options. “So. Death by your hands or an impossible quest.”

“Yes,” Ayuri says with a wide smile, baring too-sharp teeth.

“John…” Lana says softly, her eyes doing murder arithmetic as she judges the trio.

“It’s fine,” I say to Lana, holding a finger up to the three while turning to the redhead and giving her a quick kiss. “Looks like I’m going on trip.”

“You’re not leaving me.”

“Sorry, human, but this is a single-person Quest,” Ayuri says.

“I’m not happy about this,” Lana says, gripping my shirt tightly. Tears form at her eyes, her fists clenched white. “We can beat them.”

“No. No, we can’t,” I whisper, placing a hand over hers. I meet Lana’s violet eyes, which swim with unshed tears, my own vision growing slightly blurry. “And even if we could, we shouldn’t. I need to do this.”

“Why?” Lana says, her voice heartbroken.

“You know why.” As she shakes her head in denial, I continue. “I need more strength. More power. And all the other choices, they aren’t good enough. If it’s impossible, it’s definitely a powerful Class.”

“And you could die.”

“And that matters?” I shake my head, realizing those are the wrong words. “No. It matters. But I could die here too. I nearly did. This way, I have a chance. A chance…” I can’t say the rest. Can’t. Won’t. Not here, not with them beside me.

“I know,” Lana says, burying her face in my shirt as tears flow. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

In her voice, I hear all the pain, all the losses she’s suffered. Her puppies, Richard, Anna. Friends who fell in Whitehorse and others on the way. It kills me to do this to her, but I have no choice.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

She half laughs, half sobs at my answer. Before we can say anything else, Ayuri harrumphs. Bored by our goodbyes, the Champion grabs my shoulder, pulling me away from Lana and leaving the redhead clutching the shreds of my shirt.

“Mayaya!” Ayuri calls, hoisting me up in the air as Mayaya opens a Portal.

Lana steps forward and is blocked by a Soul Shield, one warped to block her movements. “John!”

With a single flick of her hand, Ayuri tosses me through the black oval of space. I spin around in the air, watching the intimidating blackness approach at speed, offering me no clue of what is to come.

“Glad you agreed. Don’t die. I bet on you this time!” Ayuri calls as I enter the Portal.

My atoms rip apart, the transition wreathing me in pain I’ve never experienced before. Even as I land, I hear the last words Ayuri says as the Portal shrinks.

“Right then. Take me to your leaders!”

And then the Portal snaps shut, stranding me in darkness. Alone.

###

The End of Book 5 of the System Apocalypse

John will be back in Book 6!

Author’s Note

Thank you for reading Book 5 and I hope you enjoyed it. This book included a lot more interactions with the US military and I have to thank all the beta readers who helped me correct issues. Any errors or issues with the way the military work / talk / interact is entirely my fault. For those who serve, I hope you enjoyed the book and I stayed true to them. I’ll admit, we are lacking a large amount of cursing ��.

If you enjoyed reading the book, please do leave a review and rating. It helps sales and yes, that’s the reason I write!

In addition, please check out my other series, the Adventures on Brad (a more traditional LitRPG fantasy) and the Hidden Wishes (an urban fantasy GameLit series_. Book one of each series follow:

A Healer’s Gift (Book 1 of the Adventures on Brad)A Healer’s Gift (Book 1 of the Adventures on Brad)(https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071KD1X35)

A Gamer’s Wish (Book 1 of the Hidden Wishes series)A Gamer’s Wish (Book 1 of the Hidden Wishes series)(https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BV7PY1G)

To support me directly, please go to my Patreon account:

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About the Author

Tao Wong is an avid fantasy and sci-fi reader who spends his time working and writing in the North of Canada. He’s spent way too many years doing martial arts of many forms, and having broken himself too often, he now spends his time writing about fantasy worlds.

For updates on the series and my other books (and special one-shot stories), please visit my website: http://www.mylifemytao.comhttp://www.mylifemytao.com(http://www.mylifemytao.com)

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Glossary

Erethran Honor Guard Skill Tree

Mana Imbue

Two are One

Thousand Steps

Blade Strike

The Body’s

Resolve

Greater

Detection

Altered Space

A Thousand

Blades

Shield Transference

Soul Shield

Blink Step

Army of One

Sanctum

Body Swap

Portal

John’s Skills

Mana Imbue (Level 3)

Soulbound weapon now permanently imbued with mana to deal more damage on each hit. +20 Base Damage (Mana). Will ignore armor and resistances. Mana regeneration reduced by 10 Mana per minute permanently.

Blade Strike (Level 3)

By projecting additional Mana and stamina into a strike, the Erethran Honor Guard’s Soulbound weapon may project a strike up to 30 feet away.

Cost: 30 Stamina + 30 Mana

Thousand Steps (Level 1)

Movement speed for the Honor Guard and allies are increased by 5% while skill is active. This ability is stackable with other movement-related skills.

Cost: 20 Stamina + 20 Mana per minute

Altered Space (Level 2)

The Honor Guard now has access to an extra-dimensional storage location of 30 cubic feet. Items stored must be touched to be willed in and may not include living creatures or items currently affected by auras that are not the Honor Guard’s. Mana regeneration reduced by 10 Mana per minute permanently.

Two are One (Level 1)

Effect: Transfer 10% of all damage from Target to Self.

Cost: 5 Mana per second

The Body’s Resolve (Level 3)

Effect: Increase natural health regeneration by 35%. On-going health status effects reduced by 33%. Honor Guard may now regenerate lost limbs. Mana regeneration reduced by 15 Mana per minute permanently.

Greater Detection (Level 1)

Effect: User may now detect System creatures up to 1 kilometer away. General information about strength level is provided on detection. Stealth skills, Class skills, and ambient mana density will influence the effectiveness of this skill. Mana regeneration reduced by 5 Mana per minute permanently.

A Thousand Blades (Level 3)

Creates four duplicate copies of the user’s designated weapon. Duplicate copies deal base damage of copied items. May be combined with Mana Imbue and Shield Transference. Mana Cost: 3 Mana per second.

Soul Shield (Level 2)

Effect: Creates a manipulable shield to cover the caster’s or target’s body. Shield has 1,000 Hit Points.

Cost: 250 Mana

Blink Step (Level 2)

Effect: Instantaneous teleportation via line-of-sight. May include Spirit’s line of sight. Maximum range—500 meters.

Cost: 100 Mana

Frenzy (Level 1)

Effect: When activated, pain is reduced by 80%, damage increased by 30%, stamina regeneration rate increased by 20%. Mana regeneration rate decreased by 10%.

Frenzy will not deactivate until all enemies have been slain. User may not retreat while Frenzy is active.

Cleave (Level 2)

Effect: Physical attacks deal 60% more base damage. Effect may be combined with other Class Skills.

Cost: 25 Mana

Elemental Strike (Level 1 - Ice)

Effect: Used to imbue a weapon with freezing damage. Adds +5 Base Damage to attacks and a 10% chance of reducing speed by 5% upon contact. Lasts for 30 seconds.

Cost: 50 Mana

Instantaneous Inventory (Maxed)

Allows user to place or remove any System-recognized item from Inventory if space allows. Includes the automatic arrangement of space in the inventory. User must be touching item.

Cost: 5 Mana per item

Portal (Level 5)

Effect: Creates a 5-meter by 5-meter portal which can connect to a previously traveled location by user. May be used by others. Maximum distance range of portals is 25,000 kilometers.

Cost: 250 Mana + 100 Mana per minute (minimum cost 350 Mana)

Army of One (Level 2)

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. Attack may now be guided around minor obstacles.

Effect: Army of One allows the projection of (Number of Thousand Blades conjured weapons * 3) Blade Strike attacks up to 300 meters away from user. Each attack deals 3 * Blade Strike Level damage (inclusive of Mana Imbue and Soulbound weapon bonus).

Cost: 750 Mana

Sanctum (Level 2)

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 15 cubic meters.

Cost: 1,000 Mana

Duration: 2 minute and 7 seconds

Shrunken Footprints (Level 1)

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

Tech Link (Level 2)

Effect: Tech Link allows user to increase their skill level in using a technological item, increasing input and versatility in usage of said items. Effects vary depending on item. General increase in efficiency of 10%. Mana regeneration rate decreased by 10%.

Designated Technological Items: Neural Link, Sabre

Spells

Improved Minor Healing (III)

Effect: Heals 35 Health per casting. Target must be in contact during healing. Cooldown 60 seconds.

Cost: 20 Mana

Improved Mana Dart (IV)

Effect: Creates four darts out of pure Mana, which can be directed to damage a target. Each dart does 15 damage. Cooldown 10 seconds.

Cost: 25 Mana

Enhanced Lightning Strike

Effect: Call forth the power of the gods, casting lightning. Lightning strike may affect additional targets depending on proximity, charge and other conductive materials on-hand. Does 100 points of electrical damage.

Lightning Strike may be continuously channeled to increase damage for 10 additional damage per second.

Cost: 75 Mana.

Continuous cast cost: 5 Mana / second

Lightning Strike may be enhanced by using the Elemental Affinity of Electromagnetic Force. Damage increased by 20% per level of affinity.

Greater Regeneration

Effect: Increases natural health regeneration of target by 5%. Only single use of spell effective on a target at a time.

Duration: 10 minutes

Cost: 100 Mana

Fireball

Effect: Create an exploding sphere of fire. Deals 150 points of fire damage to those caught within. Sphere of fire expands to 3 meters radius (on average). Cooldown 60 seconds.

Cost: 100 Mana

Polar Zone

Effect: Create a thirty meter diameter blizzard that freezes all targets within one. Does 10 points of freezing damage per minute plus reduces effected individuals speed by 5%. Cooldown 60 seconds.

Cost: 200 Mana

Greater Healing

Effect: Heals 75 Health per casting. Target does not require contact during healing. Cooldown 60 seconds per target.

Cost: 50 Mana

Mana Drip

Effect: Increases natural health regeneration of target by 5%. Only single use of spell effective on a target at a time.

Duration: 10 minutes

Cost: 100 Mana

Freezing Blade

Effect: Enchants weapon with a slowing effect. A 5% slowing effect is applied on a successful strike. This effect is cumulative and lasts for 1 minute. Cooldown 3 minutes

Spell Duration: 1 minute.

Cost: 150 Mana

Inferno Beam

A beam of heat raised to the levels of an inferno, able to melt steel and earth on contact! The perfect spell for those looking to do a lot of damage in a short period of time.

Effect: Does 150 Points of Heat Damage

Cost: 125 Mana

Mud Walls

Unlike its more common counterpart Earthen Walls, Mud Walls focus is more on dealing slow, suffocating damage and restricting movement on the battlefield.

Effect: Does 20 Points of Suffocating Damage. -30% Movement Speed

Duration: 2 Minutes

Cost: 75 Mana

Sabre’s Load-Out

Omnitron III Class II Personal Assault Vehicle (Sabre)

Core: Class II Omnitron Mana Engine

CPU: Class D Xylik Core CPU

Armor Rating: Tier IV (Modified with Adaptive Resistance)

Hard Points: 5 (5 Used)

Soft Points: 3 (3 Used)

Requires: Neural Link for Advanced Configuration

Battery Capacity: 120/120

Attribute Bonuses: +35 Strength, +18 Agility, +10 Perception

Inlin Type II Projectile Rifle

Base Damage: N/A (Dependent Upon Ammunition)

Ammo Capacity: 45/45

Available Ammunition: 250 Standard, 150 Armor Piercing, 200 High Explosive, 25 Luminescent

Ares Type II Shield Generator

Base Shielding: 2,000 HP

Regeneration Rate: 50/second unlinked, 200/second linked

Mkylin Type IV Mini-Missile Launchers

Base Damage: N/A (dependent on missiles purchased)

Battery Capacity: 6/6

Reload rate from internal batteries: 10 seconds

Available Ammunition: 12 Standard, 12 High Explosive, 12 Armor Piercing, 4 Napalm

Monolam Temporal Cloak

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

Requirements: 1 Hardpoint, Tier IV Mana Engine

Duration: Varies depending on cloaking level

Type II Webbing Mini-Missile

Base Damage: N/A

Effect: Disperses insta-webbing upon impact or on activation. Dispersal covers 3 cubic feet.

Cost: 500 Credits

Shinowa Type II Sonic Pulser

Base Damage: 25 per second

Additional Effect: Disrupts auditory sense of balance on opponent during use. Effects have a small chance of continuing after use.

Joola Communication Booster (Tier II)

Military Grade Communication Booster able to deliver your message where and when it needs to be. Joola Tech is the only way to go when what you need to say needs to be heard!

Effect: Disregard all communication interference from shields, communication scramblers, Skills and Spells below Tier of communication booster. 50% chance of breaking through equivalent tier blockages (chance decreases dependent on proximity to emanating blockage)

Other Equipment

Silversmith Mark II Beam Pistol (Upgradeable)

Base Damage: 18

Battery Capacity: 24/24

Recharge Rate: 2 per hour per GMU

Tier IV Neural Link

Neural link may support up to 5 connections.

Current connections: Omnitron III Class II Personal Assault Vehicle

Software Installed: Rich’lki Firewall Class IV, Omnitron III Class IV Controller

Ferlix Type II Twinned-Beam Rifle (Modified)

Base Damage: 57

Battery Capacity: 17/17

Recharge rate: 1 per hour per GMU (currently 12)

Tier II Sword (Soulbound Personal Weapon of an Erethran Honor Guard)

Base Damage: 98

Durability: N/A (Personal Weapon)

Special Abilities: +20 Mana Damage, Blade Strike

Kryl Ring of Regeneration

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

Health Regeneration: +30

Stamina Regeneration: +15

Mana Regeneration: +5

Tier III Bracer of Mana Storage

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

Mana Capacity: 350/350

Fey-steel Dagger

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

Base Damage: 28

Durability: 110/100

Special Abilities: None

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 are 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.

World Unbound: An Apocalyptic LitRPG (System Apocalypse Book 6) Wong, Tao

World Unbound

An Apocalyptic LitRPG

Book 6 of the System Apocalypse

by

Tao Wong

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

World Unbound

Copyright © 2019 Tao Wong. All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2019 Sarah Anderson Cover Designer

ISBN: 9781775380979

What Has Gone Before

When the System arrived on Earth, it brought monsters, aliens, and glowing blue boxes that altered the reality of humanity. Gifted with Classes that must be Leveled and Skills that provide reality-altering powers, humanity struggled to survive when modern electronics failed under the flood of Mana. In a year, over ninety percent of humanity had fallen, leaving the remnants to pick up their lives.

John Lee is one such survivor, starting from the depths of the Yukon and traveling south to aid humanity in its struggle to stay free of their Galactic overlords. As a settlement owner in British Columbia, he joined forces with the remnant military forces of the United States on the West Coast and proceeded to wage a war to free the Canadian prairies and the US West Coast. Together, they battled the Zarrie—a desert kingdom Galactic force—and freed Los Angeles while making alliances with a few Galactic companies.

On the day of their victory, John is visited by the Erethran Honor Guard and its champion. As punishment for taking their exclusive Class, John is cast into a Portal to face a unique and deadly Master Class Quest. Exiled, John must complete his Quest before returning, while Earth continues to evolve.

THE END

Author’s Note

About the Author

Glossary

Erethran Honor Guard Skill Tree

John’s Erethran Honor Guard Skills

Paladin of Erethra Skill Tree

John’s Paladin of Erethra Skills

Other Class Skills

Spells

Sabre’s Load-Out

Other Equipment

Chapter 1

A tear in space, black and empty, devoid of all light, snaps shut behind me as I exit the Portal. I stagger, my body shuddering as I deal with being transported hundreds of light years in a second. Nerves fire constantly, muscles clench, and my ears ring. Coughing to clear my lungs, I grimace and straighten, wobbling as my body readjusts to the lower gravity on Earth. A deep breath fills my lungs, and I marvel at how even a minor increase in the oxygen content can feel so good. But no matter how much I enjoy being home, years of violence on another world means that I’m still on alert.

“Ali?” I call to the olive-skinned, orange-jump-suited Spirit hovering beside me.

He bobs up and down, his body reforming as he joins me in the clearing in the middle of the forest we picked as our entry point. Once again, I cough as the earlier pain subsides. I twist my head around to take in my surroundings, double-checking for potential problems.

“Working on it, boy-o,” Ali growls, fingers darting from side to side as he plays with the screens and notifications only he can see.

While the Spirit is busy, I glance up to check out the minimap created by my own Skill Greater Detection. It isn’t as powerful as the information Ali can provide, but he’s busy patching himself back into Earth’s subversion of the System and dealing with the numerous notifications we’ve accumulated over the years. The world we spent the last four years on was in the Forbidden Zone—an area so Mana saturated that the System actually broke down.

Rather than bother the harried Spirit, I check for potential threats on the minimap. Already, the System has populated a series of dots on my minimap, mostly greyed out to indicate these monsters are no threat to me. No real surprise, but better to be careful.

While I wait and watch, I marvel at the differences I can feel, the changes compared to the world I was in. Lower—significantly lower—Mana density on Earth. Lower gravity, higher oxygen content, no trace poison in the air. But more than that, the gentle caress of the wind brings familiar smells, of new pine and clean water, the muskiness of an animal having passed through a few hours ago, and the creak of old wood. It’s familiar and comforting, and a tension I barely noticed slowly fades. I’m home.

“Ready!” the Spirit says without preamble.

Then the flood of notifications begins.

You have completed your Class Quest

Achieved Master Class: Paladin of the Erethran Empire

Delayed experience gain now distributing.

Experience decay alert! Some of the experience you have gathered has decayed.

Multiple Level up alert! Some of the experience you have gained has been penalized due to multiple Level ups.

Decayed and penalized experience has been banked. Future experience will accrue at a greater rate until bank depleted.

You have Leveled up to Erethran Paladin Level 14

Attributes automatically assigned. You have 98 free attributes to assign. You have 7 Class Skills to assign.

My body twitches, pain and ecstasy coursing through it as the sudden increase in attributes hits me like a steamboat going over the Niagara Falls. Normally, my attributes are so high that Level increases are minor changes, so little that I can’t even feel them. But I’m getting fourteen Levels at once—fourteen Master Class Levels. My body shudders as it’s hammered by the changes, my perceptions visibly expanding even. Muscles twist and twitch, tendons and fibers multiplying and hardening even as they grow more flexible. My nervous system gets ripped apart and put together again and again. It all happens within seconds, an eternity of pain before it’s over and I’m myself again.

Thank the gods increases in attributes are on a logarithmic method, one that takes into account a vast variety of areas outside of the simplistic terminology used. Strength, for example, not only alters my own physical strength, but also how I affect the world around me, the System allowing me to manipulate and even “weaken” the bonds between an object as I hit it. It’s why I can still be cut by a knife and yet can take a bullet to the chest without a problem. If this was a pure physical strength increase, I probably would have exploded from the Level ups themselves.

The moment I recover, more notifications appear before me.

Congratulations! You have gained a new title - Explorer

For traveling to, surviving, and returning from a forbidden planet, you have achieved the title Explorer. Your bravery and foolhardiness will henceforth be known all over the world.

Rewards: All mapping and sensory Skills have gained a 10% increase

Congratulations! You are the 18th member of the human race to leave the Solar System and return.

Rewards: +20,000 XP, +5 in Perception, +1 skill Level (Mapping), access to Fame and Reputation menu

Congratulations! You have gained a new title Slayer of (&%@@##** - error!)

For killing over (error! error! error!) (error! error! error!) you have gained a new title! All (error! error! error!) will fear you and your presence will subtly disturb them.

Rewards: (error! error! error!) (Please see Administrative functionary. Error has been logged and sent to support. Thank you for your patience!)

“Ali?” I say softly, then twist my head as I note the little orange-clad Spirit twitching, his body glowing with color.

My eyes narrow as he continues to glow, brighter and brighter till I can’t look at him directly. With a resounding pop, he reappears.

“Leveled up?”

“Just about,” Ali says, patting himself down. He’s no longer floating, instead standing on the ground. Which is good, because he’s now 5’ 8”, portly, and still clad in an orange jumpsuit. “Har! Still smaller than I should be, but this is so much better.”

“You look a lot more solid now…” I say with a frown.

“Yup, I’m here. For real. Body and all,” Ali says with a smirk.

“Shit.” I frown. I’ve grown used to Ali being a scout.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, Ali rolls his eyes and shrinks again, all the way down to a foot, his entire body becoming slightly transparent again. “This what you want? A floating fairy?”

“Maybe not the fairy part. I take it you’ve got control?”

“Not much of Level up if I didn’t, would it?”

“Fine,” I say with a shrug.

Now that he’s made his point, Ali pops back to full size again. His hands twitch again almost immediately as he taps into the System, filling in details on my minimap and expanding its range without a word. While he’s doing his thing, I peruse my new Class for the first time.

Four years and change, and for the first time, I get the chance to actually see the details of the damn Class I’ve fought, bled, and nearly died for.

Class: Paladin of the Erethran Empire

Unlike champions or Generals, the Paladins of the Erethran Empire have a special social standing in the Empire. Like their namesake, Paladins are not part of the chain of command, answerable to no one but the Empress herself. And not even then at times. Their actions are dictated by their honor, their judgment guided only by their wisdom, and their only support their strong right arm.

+1 in Luck per Level. +4 in Strength, Agility, Perception, Intelligence, and Charisma per Level. +5 in Constitution per Level. +6 in Willpower per Level, +7 Free Attributes per Level.

Mental Resistance Increased to 95%. All other Resistances increased by 10% (stackable).

Damage received reduced by 10%

+1 Class Skill per every two Levels

I stare at the description and whispered conversations and the clash of steel come back to me. Memories of my tutor, my mentor, she who finally entrusted me with this Class, rush back, bringing the taste of blood and an ache in my bones. For a moment, I find myself quailing at the knowledge of what is to come before I straighten. What will be, will be. For now, what is, is.

The increased resistances are a given, the stat bonuses the same. I’m a little surprised by the damage reduction and briefly wonder at what point the damage is reduced—before or after all the other Spell and Skill reductions are used—then dismiss the thought. Not as if this is a game where I can sit and calculate damage taken before I go into a fight, knowing exactly how much healing I’ll need after each attack, what kind of armor or skills to use for each and every attack. This world, for all its game-like characteristics, is all too real.

For now, a slight thought is all it takes for the Class Skill page to pop up. I eye the Class Skills hungrily, even while knowing how foolish it is. These Skills are a sham, an uneven patchwork of powerful abilities created by the System to hide a deeper truth. My time away gave me a deeper glimpse, one that I’ve been struggling toward, but it’s only that, a glimpse. Even so, I can’t help but consider how much easier my life would have been with these Skills in the last few years.

Penetration

Aura of Chivalry

Eye of Insight

Beacon of the Angels

Vanguard of the Apocalypse

Eye of the Storm

Society’s Web

Judgment of All

Immovable Object / Unstoppable Force

Domain

Shackles of Eternity

Like most Classes, the Paladin’s Skill tree is broken up into three different areas that reflect the Paladin’s areas of focus. Unlike the Advanced Skill tree, I’ve only got three tiers this time around. That’s a good thing actually. The lower number of tiers means that I have to diffuse my precious Class Skill points less to get to the more powerful Skills. It’s an advantage certain Classes have. Or, mostly an advantage. A few Classes out there, at the Basic level, have only two tiers, but they have mostly useless Skills. Those Classes are often considered “waste” Classes, though they can be powerful secondary Classes if combined properly.

I shake my head, pushing my wandering thoughts back to the matter at hand. The first column showcases personal combat Skills; the second, the Paladin’s effect on the greater battlefield as champions; and lastly, the third column exemplifies their role as judge, jury, and executioner. Within the tree itself are additional Skills, combined abilities that provide even greater strength.

For all that, I scan through each of them quickly, mentally planning out my options and what I will need before allocating a single point to each of the first unlocked tiers. The other tiers will have to wait till I unlock them when I reach their required Levels. Still, past experience has me saving my extra four Skill points. After all, now that I’m back where I can actually Level and get Quests, I’ll hit Level 20 soon and gain access to my second tier and their more powerful Skills. Until then, the basics will do. It’s not as if I’m not OP enough, as Jason might say.

Class Skill: Penetration (Level 1)

Few can face the judgment of a Paladin in direct combat, their ability to bypass even the toughest of defenses a frightening prospect. Reduces Mana Regeneration by 5 permanently.

Effect: Ignore all armor and defensive spells by 50%. Increases damage done to shields by 100%.

Class Skill: Aura of Chivalry (Level 1)

A Paladin’s very presence can quail weak-hearted enemies and bolster the confidence of allies, whether on the battlefield or in court. The Aura of Chivalry is a double-edged sword however, focusing attention on the Paladin—potentially to their detriment. Increases success rate of Perception checks against Paladin by 10% and reduces stealth and related skills by 10% while active. Reduces Mana Regeneration by 5 Permanently.

Effect: All enemies must make a Willpower check against intimidation against user’s Charisma. Failure to pass the check will cow enemies. All allies gain a 50% boost in morale for all Willpower checks and a 10% boost in confidence and probability of succeeding in relevant actions.

Note: Aura may be activated or left off at will.

Class Skill: Eyes of Insight (Level 1)

Under the eyes of a Paladin, all untruth and deceptions fall away. Only when the Paladin can see with clarity may he be able to judge effectively. Reduces Mana Regeneration by 5.

Effect: All Skills, Spells, and abilities of a lower grade that obfuscate, hinder, or deceive the Paladin are reduced in effectiveness. Level of reduction proportionate to degree of difference in grade and Skill Level.

Well, that was interesting. Master Skills are frightening, but of course, they have to be, considering how difficult it is to get them. It does help that I’ve got an extremely rare, almost unique Class, which results in better than normal Skills too.

Still, the Penetration Skill effectively doubles my combat ability. Doubling my attack against Shields is impressive—probably the most common method of defense these days—but reducing other, more passive defenses by fifty percent is even scarier. Certainly monsters that rely on their natural defenses will be in for a hell of a shock if I ever hit them.

With the slightest twitch of my mind, I call up my new Status Screen.

Status Screen

Name

John Lee

Class

Erethran Paladin

Race

Human (Male)

Level

14

Titles

Monster’s Bane, Redeemer of the Dead, Duelist, Explorer

Health

3020

Stamina

3020

Mana

2340

Mana Regeneration

213 (+5) / minute

Attributes

Strength

176

Agility

271

Constitution

302

Perception

119

Intelligence

234

Willpower

263

Charisma

74

Luck

47

Class Skills

Mana Imbue

3*

Blade Strike*

3

Thousand Steps

1

Altered Space

2

Two are One

1

The Body’s Resolve

3

Greater Detection

1

A Thousand Blades*

3

Soul Shield

2

Blink Step

2

Portal*

5

Army of One

2

Sanctum

2

Instantaneous Inventory*

1

Cleave*

2

Frenzy*

1

Elemental Strike*

1 (Ice)

Shrunken Footsteps*

1

Tech Link*

2

Penetration

1

Aura of Chivalry

1

Eyes of Insight

1

Combat Spells

Improved Minor Healing (IV)

Greater Regeneration (II)

Greater Healing (II)

Mana Drip (II)

Improved Mana Missile (IV)

Enhanced Lightning Strike (III)

Firestorm

Polar Zone

Freezing Blade

Improved Inferno Strike (II)

Mud Walls

Perhaps one of the biggest changes that occurred within the Forbidden Zone was the vast increase in the effectiveness of my spells. With the incredible increase in my Mana regeneration rate due to the sheer volume of Mana available on that planet, I started using my spells significantly more. I even spent some time upgrading my most used spells, making them significantly more powerful. While I still know the older, less powerful versions of the spells, rather than clutter up my interface, I just had them relegated to another section. It’s not as if I’m ever going to cast Mana Dart again. Hell, I barely even use Mana Missile. In truth, I’m looking forward to speaking with Aiden about magic now that I’ve been forced to learn it the hard way.

As I stand there, contemplating my character sheet for the first time in four years, I’m grateful that I chose to be Ported into the middle of nowhere. With my own ability, I can get home easily enough now that I’m back on Earth, but I wouldn’t want to go over my new Skills while dealing with the fallout of being away for a few years. Not that I had any choice about leaving. And talking about choice…

“Took you long enough,” I drawl, tilting my head to stare at the trio of Honor Guards walking out of the underbrush. Or Honor Guards and champion to be exact.

The trio of Erethrans are each over seven feet tall, their hair colors ranging from simple purple to outlandish, vibrant yellow-red. Each of them have coral-like ears and slitted eyes whose giant yellow pupils seem particularly startling set against the almost non-existent nose with that hint of a beak-like overhang. They’re all clad in an armored pants-and-tunic ensemble, sporting the exclusive Erethran royal family’s colors—purple and silver.

“I believe that was my line,” the champion says with a half-smile.

I regard the champion for a moment, reading the status information Ali is able to pull up. Interesting. She’s gone up a few Levels since the last time I spoke with her. Impressive even, considering how hard it is to Level at the stage she’s in. At least, unless you’re a cheat character like me.

Ayuri d’Malla of the Dawn, Breaker of the Sixth Legion, Hero of the Sixth Kumma Wars, Mistress of Knives, Bloodflower, Slayer of Kumma, Goblins, Mizza… (Level 43 Erethran Champion)

HP: 9990/9990

MP: 4342/4780

Conditions: Buffs. LOT OF BUFFS.

“That sounds like a lie, considering you never expected me to survive,” I say with a smile. There’s no malice in my voice, not anymore. A quick scan of her friends shows that they’ve Leveled too. Impressive as well, obviously.

“No recriminations or anger over throwing you in?” Ayuri says, dark eyes regarding me as she weighs my reaction.

“I’ve had four years and a lot of monsters to work out my anger,” I say. “Not that you’re forgiven. But you’re not looking for that, are you?”

“No.”

“So. What now?” I’ve played this discussion through my mind so many times, workshopped the various ways this could go. But at the end of the day, it comes down to what the woman wants. The fact stands that it would have, should have, been easier to just kill me to remove the stain of my presence on their honor. That she didn’t means she has plans for me. Now, it’s time to find out what.

Or not.

“Now? Nothing. In time, I expect we’ll speak again,” Ayuri says.

My eyes narrow slightly as I consider the champion. There’s a lot I can say—a refusal to play her game, a question about her motives, or even a query about what has happened recently. In the end, I speak none of those words.

“Okay.” I nod, shifting away slightly.

I take my time, keeping an eye on the trio as I wait to see what they’ll do. Appearing here, in the middle of nowhere, was also a check to see if I had to deal with the Erethran Guard in a more violent and permanent way. Yet the trio looks utterly bored, happy to let me raise my hand and form a Portal.

Only when it’s fully opened and I’m at its threshold does Ayuri speak. “If you’re looking for your friends, you will not find them there.”

“What do you mean?” I say, my eyes narrowing. “Vancovuer…?”

“Still yours. As are all your other settlements. Can’t contact Kim from here, but there’s no change in your ownership.”

“Just that your friends are currently engaged in another location. Almost all of them actually,” Ayuri says.

“Where?”

“Well, why don’t we take you along? We’re supposed to make an appearance too,” Ayuri says with a smile.

I find myself annoyed by the casual way she’s speaking. Still, I give her a nod as I release my Portal. Within moments, another, much larger Portal appears, its dark inkiness showing nothing of what awaits me. As soon as it fully appears, the trio travels through it without hesitation, and I join them with only the barest of hesitations. This could be leading to who knows where. But if that’s the case, I might as well get it over and done with now. I tell myself to have patience, but I do take a moment to layer a Soul Shield on myself. Even if they’re deliberately provoking me and playing with me, all will be revealed.

And if not, I’ll show them what happens when you survive four years in a Forbidden Zone.

Chapter 2

Daylight disappears and twilight appears. My eyes adapt immediately, though I wish I still had my helmet. That was gone, what—fourteen months ago? Something like that. Made using Sabre quite difficult actually, since the helmet wasn’t part of the nanomachine calibration. In fact, I hadn’t even pulled my mecha out in months. The poor thing was so battered and smashed, I often just left it in storage.

As I’m thinking useless thoughts, I’m taking in my surroundings, scanning for trouble both via my Skill and my senses. Green grass has given way to sand, the flat terrain replaced by a dune. No more giant rainforest trees. Instead, a group of smaller, scurrying organic creatures appear before me, heaving and thrashing like living waves. It only takes a moment to register that there are three sides in the conflict before me: monsters, Galactics in all shapes and sizes, and humans. The scale of the battle is surprising—tens of thousands of figures fighting it out before me.

Bright beams of light, the roar of gunpowder and other chemical explosive ammunition, and the never-ending stink of clotted, iron-rich blood fill my senses. Winds, kicked up by continuous roar of explosives, swirl around me. Sand, salt, and particalized organics cloud the air even as screams and grunts of pain punctuate it all. They’re far enough away that it’d be impossible to see them normally, but my boosted Perception seems to make seeing through the smoke a snap. One part of me is taking in the war, categorizing fighters and sides, while another is snapping Skills and spells in place, boosting my body into its best combat-ready state.

“What is going on?” A few years ago, I might have rushed in, taking part in the battle without thought. A few years ago, I’d know who was right, who I had to protect. But now…

“Just a minor field battle,” Ayuri says. “Your friends are participating, with everyone contending for the Field Boss.”

“Field Boss?”

“Alpha monster who has become a locus for Mana flow. Rather than creating a dungeon, it powers up the monster, giving it significant boosts. Some of the oldest even respawn like monsters in a dungeon.”

I don’t need to ask who it is. The giant glowing pink arrow that follows the creature’s movement is more than sufficient. It’s a weird, ten-limbed scorpion-like monster with thin, grasping arms in the front and a second, humanoid body where its tail would be. Even without the arrow, years of battle have trained my eyes to see the telltale shifts, the flow of the battle, and spot the centers of activity, the linchpins. On the monster side, it’s the Field Boss who, even under the barrage of modern, futuristic, and magical artillery fire, is barely bothered by the damage. Its health bar shifts a miniscule amount.

On the human side, there are dozens of smaller centers of activity. A ten-gallon-Stetson-hatted man two-steps through monsters, pistols blazing. A pair of puppies and a tiger run amok through the Galactics, guided and occasionally helped by a redhead on a griffin. Between both groups of attackers, an armored individual in ghostly medieval Japanese armor holds both groups aside while wielding a polearm. A pair of Guardians back her up, one with a metallic silver fist and another with swirling, tiny shields that protect against attacks. In the back, a party of Mages alternately dispel and cast spells, protecting the humans and their allies. And I do say allies, because I’ve spotted two anomalies.

Holding up one corner of the human army facing the Galactics is a force of Hakarta. They’re easy to spot with their uniform armor and green facial tusks that stick out of their helmets. The Hakarta have a series of force shields locked in place at the front of the line, guarded by a group of plasma-spear-wielding Hakarta, while other members of their mercenary Corp lob grenades, spells, and other attacks over the defenses. Higher up on the sloped hill and behind the lines, snipers and other long-ranged fighters add to the carnage.

In another section of the human army’s line of combat, a group of blue-and-silver-armored individuals in eight-foot-tall mecha are facing off against the monsters. Each mecha wields the equivalent of a minigun, spraying enchanted bullets downrange at a ferocious rate that barely stems the monster army. Beside each mecha, other members of the troop lay down more careful fire or work to reload the mecha. Between the towering metal behemoths, smaller figures use magic and melee weapons to deal with the few monsters that trickle through the gaps.

“That’s the Erethran Army down there, isn’t it?” I say, gesturing to the group with the mecha. The green and yellow piping a dead giveaway too.

“Yes,” Ayuri answers.

I grimace, wondering what the story is, but discard that line of questioning. Another time. For now, I’ve got a good enough idea of the situation. I gauge distances, consider my Mana, then speak up.

“One last thing. I’m going to need to borrow another Portal…”

The black hole opens in space high above the monster army, taking in a backwash of lightning as a spell is deflected upward. I ignore it as I jump through the Portal with a pair of channeled firestorms ready, appearing high above the group. I release the spells as I fall, the fire appearing so quickly, the monsters below have no time to brace. When fire erupts all around you, not much you can do but burn.