Life in the North: An Apocalyptic LitRPG

I drop through the flames, my Soul Shield burning up as the flames eat away at its integrity. With a crash, I’m on the ground then back on my feet, dashing forward even as experience notifications pile up in the corner of my eye. Feet kick off the ground as I rush the now-clear Field Boss. It roars, its skin mildly blackened from the firestorms. Its health bar has barely moved. Even as I move, previously launched spells and artillery fall, making my Soul Shield tremble.

Aqrabuamelu Alpha (Field Boss Level 129)

HP: 13380/15380

MP: 9804/10230

Conditions: Greater Regeneration (IV), Field Advantage

I hate these kinds of monsters. I really do. Smart enough that they could almost be considered sentient, but without the level of conscience or morality that would make them viable members of society. They wield magic and savageness with equal fervor, though their spells are closer to innate Skills. The Aqrab glares at me, fingers shifting as the humanoid part begins a spell. Instinct has me throwing myself to the side as a rainbow stream flashes past my body. Even as I roll to my feet, the front body sends another spell on its way from its thin, weird hand/tentacles.

Blink Step. I’m beside the front body the next second, my sword cutting into one thin limb. It catches, barely scratching it, but that’s okay—the following Skill-generated blades are on their way. Freezing Blade reacts as each blade contacts, layering a cold spell on the Boss and slowing it even as I’m moving. A twist of my body has me rolling across its broad back, one hand twisting and forming the spell Mud Wall that floods upward from the ground even as I throw a second cut at the tail-body.

The monster snarls, leaning backward to dodge the attack. While it does so, it struggles to free itself from the Mud Walls. With the boss trapped by the movement of my blades and the Mud Walls, I dismiss the sword in my hand and point both hands at the body, casting Inferno Strike. Beams of plasma fire erupt, tearing sizzling holes in the body as I walk along its torso. Before I can keep channeling and tear its body apart, its reinforcements arrive, forcing me to kill the spell prematurely.

A female lion-mutant, sleek and golden-furred, pounces at me, jaws distended and a green liquid dripping from its fangs. For a second, I see down its throat. Tattered flesh hangs from needle-fang teeth the size of daggers. Then my hand catches the monster by the underside of its neck and I slam the creature into the ground, the audible crunch of bones breaking echoing through the battlefield. A back kick takes care of another monster before I toss the lion into another group. Even if the damage done isn’t great, it’s a show of power that is hard to miss. Especiall with my Champion’s Aura turned on fully, attracting everyone’s attention.

Another lesson from the planet? Sometimes, it’s not the damage but controlling the battlefield that matters. In previous mass battles, I focused on killing as many as possible, as fast as possible. But now, now, I have another goal. With a stomp, I flip off the Field Boss as it lashes out with a series of guided bolts of pure Mana. Landing on the ground before it, I eat some of the attacks.

I grasp its front arm, gripping tight as a rising kick throws the body upward under the effect of my System-enhanced strength. Because the points don’t just mean a change in physical strength but also in how I can make such strength manifest in the real world. And I’ve had a lot of practice learning to use these points properly. The creature flies into the air, held down only by my arm. Then I dance, swinging the giant Field Boss bat as a weapon, even as my Soul Shield falls under repeated secondary attacks.

Blood flows, small cuts and damage accumulating as the Boss lashes out with spells, and artillery shots land around us. But the battering ram of the Field Boss clears a wide area around me, one that I keep widening as I dash through the crowd. Along the way, I use my floating swords to add to the carnage. I create disruption and confusion, breaking morale and formations while layering damage and obstacles.

The change is small at first, the morale factor of my sudden appearance boosting the human army’s fighting form. Then the distraction and damage to the Field Boss’s subordinates kicks in, removing orders and support actions that were meant to take place. Weaknesses in the monster’s line become breakouts as reinforcements do not arrive. And now, with the Field Boss unable to add additional orders, the monsters are split apart further. Mud Walls hamper movement; Polar Zones damage and slow down susceptible monsters as they rush around. Gaps appear and increase, and the experienced human army acts on it, targeting Elites and Alphas with a vengeance. It’s a waterfall effect.

But it doesn’t go all my way. After a minute, the Aqrab takes action, slicing off its own arm to free itself and using the force of my latest swing of its body to fly into the distance. It takes me a little bit to weave my way near it again, bashing apart monsters as I heal my body and close in on the Boss. Rather than repeat the attack, I switch to monster bowling, using the hardy Field Boss to shatter lines.

In the corner of my vision, Ali is dashing alongside me, his Spirit body fully materialized. He’s still clad in his orange jumpsuit, but magic dances from his hand. Through our connection, the Spirit has use of the full range of spells I have learned, along with a few innate spells and abilities. But here, he’s mostly focused on using Improved Mana Missiles, Enhanced Lightning Bolts, and the occasional Mud Wall while continually buffing me with healing spells. Together, we rampage through the monsters’ back lines, causing death and mayhem as the Field Boss’s health shrinks ever so slowly.

“Boy-o, Mana’s at a quarter,” Ali quietly reminds me.

I snarl, snatching up a monster and tossing it aside before booting another away. Then I focus, drawing on the stored Mana in my Mana Bracer, draining it completely. Time to end this. A rhinoceros-like creature charges me, trampling over a smaller carapace-clad monster in front of it, and I grin.

“Just in time.”

My mind shifts, counting down the seconds even as I cut apart another creature. A second, two, then I jump upward, my feet lightly touching down on the charging monster’s singular horn. Another push with my feet and I’m in the air, boosted by the creature’s angry bellow and charge. I laugh, the thrill of fighting rushing through my body. Gods, I’d forgotten how fun it could be bullying lower Leveled monsters.

In the air, I spin and twist, locating the Field Boss, who has recovered from my latest bowling attempt and is scurrying away. Even as it does so, it’s manifesting another spell, hands waving in unison as a weird, rising chant fills the battlefield. Too bad Spells take a bit of time to manifest. The more powerful the spell, the longer it takes—dependent on skill and ability—which is why I tend toward simpler spells in combat. When I’m not using Skills. Because Skills just require a moment of concentration and willpower.

Around me, an even dozen identical copies of my sword appear. I raise my hand, the original sword in my hand shining with light as I gesture downward, the action copied by the dozen blades as beams of concentrated energy tear the air apart to impact the Field Boss. A few unlucky monsters get in the way of the strike and are torn apart like wet newspaper. Each enhanced blade of energy rips through the monster, their penetrating power doubled due to my new Master Skill. Long tears appear on the Aqrab’s body, thousands of points of damage appearing in a single strike.

Army of One. The damn Skill name says it all.

I land on the ground with a grin, striding forward as the Aqrab struggles to stand up, a pair of feet so badly damaged that one lies on the ground next to it. Blood dribbles out from its wounds, a sulphuric smell rising from its wounds even as its buffs attempt to heal the damage.

Thanks to my Aura and the sheer intimidation of having their leader nearly mashed flat, none of the monsters charge me as I finish the pitiful creature with one last stab of my blade. The moment the Field Boss dies, its body collapsing entirely into the ground, a ripple goes through the crowd of monsters. They break apart and flee, the bond keeping them here broken.

In their fear, the monsters still know better than to come near, circling round the corpse of the Field Boss and me. No surprise then that my friends arrive soon afterward. First to arrive of course is Lana, the redhead flying over the monsters on her griffin, the creature dropping to the ground to deposit its voluptuous rider with a blast of sand.

Without a word, the redhead throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I return the hug, holding her close while the rest of the group finds their way over. In a short while, the rest of my friends, my team, arrive. While the battle continues to rage around us, while the remainder of the monsters are mopped up, we hold our first meeting in four years.

I can’t help but grin as they cluster around, my eyes taking in the changes among them all. The new lines on their faces, the greater confidence in their stances, the much larger health and Mana bars. The big, wide, grinning faces. I take it all in, savoring the moment before I finally speak.

“What took you so long?”

Chapter 3

Cleaning up after the Field Boss dies takes only a short while. The Hakarta and Erethran army help clear the monster corpses, stacking up bodies for transportation and cleaning later. Interestingly enough, looting is conducted under a somewhat different scenario than normal, as everyone is in an army-based super-group, making looting simpler. Everything will be stored and divvied up later, rather than each individual having to find the corpses they killed.

The Galactics we were fighting ceased fighting us the moment the Field Boss fell, their interest extinguished like the creature’s life. It takes a little explaining, but it seems the entire battle was more of a ritualized competition than a desperate race for resources. With the Field Boss down, there’s little point in continuing the contest and the Galactics cease hostilities. They work alongside our people in picking up corpses of their fallen and looting bodies of those monsters they’ve killed. Still, I do note that we mostly allow the Erethrans to interact with them. No surprise there—the Galactics are probably more used to switching from a desperate battle to non-aggressive stances than we humans are.

Of course, except for when I quickly loot the Field Boss, as requested by Lana, I’m busy with other, more human things. I don’t even have time to do more than absently note that I’ve Leveled again.

“Yes, I’m alive.”

“No, no communication possible. There was only one, semi-functioning Shop.”

“Yes, I got my Master Class.”

“No. I can’t say where it was.”

“Yes, it was hard. I missed you guys too.”

“Yes. I did have to grandstand like that.”

“Yes, I did see your new Levels. Congratulations times ten. Or twenty.”

“No, I haven’t checked in on Vancouver yet.”

And on, and on. The shouted questions, the exclamations of surprise and joy, the hastily blurted answers and explanations take up the next hour before we finally make our way back to the temporary camp. That the camp is well-organized and made up of almost-permanent-looking structures, formed by Skill and Spell, is somehow less surprising than its sheer size.

Unsurprisingly perhaps, the conversations and questions continue to come as we adjourn to the mess hall and congregate around a pair of picnic tables, supping on an extensive buffet of food. Amelia and Mike join us, while others that I barely know, like the Calgarians and Seattle members, leave us alone after they welcome me back. Even then, I notice more than a few glances shot our way by the curious, but none intrude.

“Is it just me or is this really good?” I say, speaking around a mouthful of delicious barbecued monster. It’s a mix between the succulent fleshiness of beef and the intense gaminess of lamb, with a delectable series of spices that mixes heat and sourness.

“It’s very good,” Mikito answers me with a smile. The Samurai has advanced incredibly in four years, sitting at Level 41 in her Class. It’s a frightening increase and probably the largest jump I’ve seen among the group, even if she had the aid of others and full access to Quests and Shops in a Dungeon World.

I kind of feel cheated by the sheer amount of experience I lost, though I mentally comfort myself that it’s only temporary. I’ll “earn” it all back in time.

Of course, it probably helps that the tiny Japanese lady has been at the forefront of the majority of fighting in the last four years, shouldering the burden that had been mine. Her Title is a good indicator of exactly how important my old friend has become.

Title: Spear of Humanity

The owner of this title has gained significant fame and popularity amongst the remnant members of the human race for meritorious acts against monsters, member races of the Galactic Council, and other humans in defense of Earth.

Effects: title owner gains a 15% bonus in statistics when acting in defense of humans or when on Earth. +10% bonus in experience gain on Earth. Humans have a -10% debuff on attributes when attacking title owner.

I’ll admit, I’m really jealous about the title. It’s one of the most impressive titles, in terms of bonuses, I’ve ever seen, but the fact that it’s probably one of a kind and based off worldwide fame contributes a lot to it, from what I understand about the System. After all, the damn leech of a System tends to draw from the masses to benefit the individual. And itself, of course.

“We often bring a Chef or three with us on these campaigns,” Lana says, gesturing to where the cooking stations have been set up.

I find myself blinking, the contrast between our hurried and mostly combat Classer-based campaign four years ago and this more urbane affair giving me mental whiplash for a second.

As if she can read my mind, Lana continues. “As they’re part of the official Warparty and providing an actual service, they can leech off the experience gain to advance their Levels. And the use of the exotic meats also increases their non-combat skill Levels too.”

“It’s a pretty common tactic,” Ali adds from behind the five-plate-high stack of food he has spread before him. In his larger form, the Spirit seems to have decided to gorge himself, somehow managing to put away more than twice as much food as anyone else. Which is impressive when you realize we’re almost all combat Classers. “There’s a bunch of Artisans running around camp too, making themselves useful. They get experience, first pick of the scavenged loot and employment. Outside of a few groups—like the Erethrans—this is a very common setup for large scale campaigns. Cheaper too, since you can fire the idiots at any time.”

“Got it,” I say to Ali and look over at Lana. I wonder if it’s my increase in Charisma or Perception, or just the fact that I’m paying more attention, but I’ve noticed a few things since I’ve come back. The hug. The fact that she’s seated near me, but on the opposite side of the table. How she’s speaking less and avoiding looking me directly in the eyes. In my gut, I know the answer, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it yet. I push that thought aside for now. “So where’s the rest of the team?”

Silence descends over the table. Amelia and Mike, the ex-RCMP officers and now Guardians, fall silent, staring at Lana, who is forced to answer via peer pressure.

“Ingrid no longer works with us exclusively. She flits around, playing mercenary assassin. She calls these large-scale battles idiot lines. Carlos is back in Vancouver. He retired from the front lines a year ago, after Beijing, and now runs an alchemy corporation. He still comes out once in a while, but his wife—” Lana shoots a glance at Mikito, who acts as if she doesn’t notice. “Well. He’s busy. Sam… we lost him at Beijing to an assassination.”

I wince, looking down. Damn it. I liked the old man. After a moment, I meet Lana’s eyes, asking softly, “Who else?”

The list comes quickly. Some I haven’t seen since our journey to the States. Humans from Whitehorse and BC, names and faces that float upward from the depths of my memory with little effort. Many are a brief memory. Elder Badger from Carcross—dead in her sleep. Chetan, the Healer-mage from Seattle, torn apart by a Master Class fighter in Austin. Aron Hauser, the Yerrick, fallen while running a dungeon that had overrun its resources. More names, more faces. Fewer than I had feared, but still too many. Sometimes they speak of others that I don’t recall, individuals they’ve met and befriended and lost. But eventually, they run out of names.

Perhaps it’s the listing of the dead in its entirety. Perhaps it’s just the reminder of what happened and the losses faced. Or perhaps it’s just the realization that for all that has happened, all that we have faced together, our time together was, in the end, brief. Shorter than the time I was away. A lot has happened, a lot has been lost, and I’ve been nowhere to be found. I am a stranger to their lives.

A somber air takes over our table, one that is deepened as my friends take turns outlining what has happened in the last few years, filling me in.

Perhaps the least surprising aspect is that after my disappearance, the push to free human cities eventually slowed down. The first six months saw significant momentum in the United States, but they faced greater and greater resistance as time moved along. Many of the major powers that had been taking their time started acting, outright purchasing settlements from other Galactics—and a few humans—before directly transporting over masses of their people. And these weren’t Basic Classes that arrived but swarms of Advanced Classes and a few Masters.

To combat the ever-increasing speed of reinforcements from the Galactics, Miller and the team switched to an opportunistic approach in aiding settlements. Using smaller, specialized human teams, along with help from the Erethran Army and the Harkarta’s Sixty-Third Division, a series of focused campaigns were carried out on settlements that were ready to be freed. On top of that, of course, Miller’s combined army continued to push east.

Unfortunately, each battle wore down their army, losses continually mounting. Each new settlement taken needed guards, men to watch over them and build up the settlements. Reinforcements were sparse, coming from individuals who trickled in from other locations. The breaking point in the States was when we lost—and regained—Denver in a period of two weeks. Rather than push forward, Miller decided to call a stop to the expansion to train and reinforce newly retaken settlements. While guerilla warfare continued—and continues—the results have grown significantly less promising. In effect, we seem to be in a state of cold war with the remaining Galactics.

On a personal level, all my settlements continue to belong to me and thrive. In fact, due to skillful management under Lana, Kim, and Katherine, the west coast of Canada has become an important Leveling hub. With a trade and transportation agreement in place with Roxley and one of the few “safe” overland routes to Alberta and to the high-Level zones in the Yukon, we experienced a significant northern migration from the States. While Alberta and the prairie provinces have finally been—mostly—freed, the losses and delay in setting up Towns saw a slower growth factor.

Unfortunately, a two-part alliance among a pair of Galactic powerhouses has stopped us from taking over the majority population centers of Ontario, their ruthless tactics, including the massacre and relocation of the entire Montreal population, have forced us to put a pause on our expansion. A constant stream of refugees and freed Serfs escape to the west, with the prairie towns bearing the brunt of retaliatory attacks for continuing to accept our humans. In the meantime, the combat forces Lana has gathered train and Level in ritualized combat, like the most recent battle.

As for the States, fractured by politics, the United States is united no longer. Instead, the west coast, the south—including much of New Mexico and Texas—and the area around Washington DC have all formed into three separate blocs consisting of freed human cities and a few allied Galactic cities. They call themselves variations of the “legal” representation of the real government of course, with regular political negotiations occurring as they attempt to patch the country back together.

As for the rest, including the so-called flyover states, their settlements are owned and run by the Galactics, with a few scattered human warlords and monster-infested hellholes. The Truinnar make up the largest portion of the owners in North America and South America at the moment, which has placed our own settlement in an interesting political position with friends on both sides.

On a global scale, matters are somewhat less depressing. Perhaps due to their large populations, India, Brazil, Pakistan, Japan, Nigeria, Korea, and China all managed to keep control of the majority of their cities. Of course, many of the borders that we knew have been redrawn, with many of the larger countries fracturing into smaller governments. Local warlords rule their four-, five-, six-city empires with a diverse number of rules and regulations. Not surprisingly, negotiations continue as visionaries and despots attempt to stitch together larger countries.

While Europe was densely populated, it seemed to have been adversely affected by a significant Galactic presence. No one knows why, but it seems many larger Galactic corporations decided that western Europe was a wonderful location to first set up shop. Humans, in the grand scheme of things, became nothing more than pawns, forced to flee while the Galactics battled one another. The Movana in particular hold a significant portion of western Europe. Unlike our knockdown, drag-out wars though, the Galactics seem prone to smaller-scale, ritualized combat. Mike is happy to regale me with the story of how Eindhoven was won after a single battle between a pair of Master Class individuals, which left both parties battered but alive.

Ironically, the increased number of European refugees into northern Africa actually helped stabilize human settlements there, giving us a band of powerful helpers in that region. It’s where many of the members of the army around us come from actually. Outside of that, Africa is a hodgepodge of settlements and interest groups, with few “powerful” blocs in charge of more than a half-dozen cities. But Africa’s a big place, and empty as it might be at times, a few major governments have arisen. Frighteningly enough, Africa has some of the greatest concentrations of high Level combat classers in the world.

As for Australia… well, the less said about that pitiful continent, the better. It certainly lived up to its moniker of the most poisonous continent. The few humans who survive there are holding on by the skin of their teeth.

“So basically, humans being humans and no one joins together?” I say with a grimace. Unfortunately, while we might band together in the short term, in the long term, self-interest often wins out.

“Not completely. Some groups have started forming,” Lana says with a sigh. “With the Planetary Voting Platform happening every month, it’s forced a certain amount of macrolevel grouping. Quite a few of the interest groups are geography-based, but some are champion-based.”

“Champion?”

“People like our little Mikito,” Lana says, inclining her head as Mikito flushes slightly in embarrassment. “People who have become famous enough that they’re a significant political force by themselves.”

“I don’t do politics,” Mikito grumbles and points at Lana. “She’s considered a player too.”

“Only because of John’s—your—settlements,” Lana says firmly. “Which we’ll need to talk about.”

“We will,” I assure the redhead. There’s so much to catch up on. So much to understand. We haven’t even scratched other topics that puzzle me, like the presence of the Erethran Army.

But before we can dig deeper into the past, others break in. As much as they might be my friends, they’re also people of import and they have duties, important duties, that have been put aside for long enough. One by one, they’re dragged off to deal with problems that only they can solve. And eventually, I find myself alone but for Ali.

Again.

“Redeemer.” The low, gravelly voice with a British accent takes me out of the notifications Ali has been piling in front of me.

Left alone, I was taking the time to catch up on what has been happening, with Ali sorting and sending me relevant pieces of data. I might have received an overview from my friends, but four years leaves a lot to cover.

“Major Ruka.” I look up, grinning at the big, ugly, tusky Hakarta. Damn, I’d forgotten how ugly they are up close.

“Colonel now,” Labashi says with a touch of pride as he sits down next to me without asking.

“Ah. Congratulations. It’s your command here then?” I say, tilting my head toward where the Hakarta continue to clean up.

“Yes.”

“Nice.”

“I wanted to come by and congratulate you on your promotion and return. And thank you. The contract we established has been extremely lucrative,” Labashi says.

“M̀h'sái” I wave aside his thanks. “I understand you’ve been a lot of help. You and the Erethrans.”

One thing I like about Labashi is how smart he is. He picks up on the hint immediately. “Ms. Pearson and General Miller made arrangements after your disappearance. Earth is now an official training ground for the Erethran Army. Earth—your people—pays the long-range teleportation fees for the army. In turn, they provide support during such engagements.”

Huh. I consider how that works. I doubt the Erethrans are at the pure beck and call of our people—it makes no sense for them to make such a deal—but I don’t bother asking Labashi. It’s unlikely he knows, and if he does, it’s unlikely he’d tell me. After all, I have a much better and more reliable source of information for this, and his revelation of such knowledge could be considered rude. No one likes having their allies spy on them.

“And your contract…” I say, leading him on. I might as well figure out the details on those.

Labashi flashes me another grin and leans forward, and suddenly, I’m reminded of our first meeting so many years ago. But this time, we’re finally on an even playing field, our Levels nearly the same and both of us having something the other wants.

An hour and a half later, Lana finally finds us, our conversation mostly over. The new contract is ready for inspection and for details to be hammered out. This time around, I refused to let Labashi push me into signing it immediately, allowing people like Lana and Katherine to review our new agreement in more detail. Still, the outline should be fine—increased presence of the Hakarta in our cities, using them as additional security forces for minor concessions in terms of buildings, access to the dungeons—which we now have four of—and of course, Credits.

Overall, I feel quite smug. Until Lana comes over, a thunderous look on her face.

“John. We need to talk.”

We walk in tense silence, headed out of the campgrounds. Ali, smartly, disappeared the moment Lana showed up. Of course, he’s floating right beside me, lounging in the air at full size—which is a really disturbing sight, by the way—but Lana is unable to see him.

As we pass the first set of guards, I finally open my mouth. “Lana—”

“Not yet,” Lana says curtly.

I follow, tight-lipped as we walk into the dark desert whose temperature is already dropping. From the shadows, I catch glimpses of the puppies and Roland as they spread out to deal with any potential threats. I look up but don’t spot the griffin, which reminds me that I know very little about those animals. The true ones and not the Mana-corrupted legends we have. After five minutes, I try again and am hushed.

Only when we are a couple of kilometers away from everyone does Lana stop. From her storage, she pulls and sets up a simple, metallic scepter. In the darkness, I can see the slight flush in her cheeks, the tension in her shoulders.

“Now we can speak,” Lana states. When I open my mouth to do so, I find a finger up in my face. “What the hell were you thinking you were doing?”

“Talking—”

“Negotiating! With Labashi,” Lana snaps.

“You make it sound like he’s an enemy.”

“He’s a mercenary. A friendly one, but a merc,” Lana says fiercely. “And you had no right to negotiate with him. None!”

“Actually—”

“Don’t give me that settlement owner garbage,” Lana snarls, waving her finger in my face. My eyes narrow, her words igniting the anger inside me as she plows on. “You’ve been gone for four years. Four! We’ve been taking care of all of it in your place. The negotiations. The politics. The endless meetings and assassination attempts. And you’ve never even once contacted me!”

I open my mouth to protest, to explain, to shout back. But at the end, there’s a slight hitch in her words, a hiccup. I stare, the anger doused as understanding sweeps through me. Then I step closer, ignoring her finger, and wrap my arms around the redhead, hugging her tightly. She struggles at first, but I’ve always been stronger than her. And eventually, she stops and just cries, her hands gripping me with nails digging into my back as she sobs.

“Damn you. Damn it…”

Lana eventually regains control, pushing against me more insistently. I let her go and she steps back, staring at me for a long time.

I can’t help but smile slightly. “You’re not going to slap me, are you?”

“If it wouldn’t hurt my hand more than your face, I might,” Lana says grumpily. “Baka.”

I chuckle, glad to hear Mikito’s trademark insult for me. When Lana sighs again, shaking her head, and steps back and away from me, I realize it’s nearly time for the real talk.

“John…” Lana says hesitantly.

“I know. You’ve got someone else,” I say softly. I feel a flash of pain, a deep ache in my chest and stomach that I ruthlessly quash. Not right now. “Anyone I know?”

“No. We met in South America…”

I shake my head. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not know. Not right now.”

Lana looks hurt for a second then smooths out her face, nodding in confirmation. “About Labashi. You really shouldn’t have done that. He’s a friend, and the deal you made isn’t bad. But there’s more in play than you realize. There are factions who want, need, that space.”

I consider what she said and I sigh. She’s right. I tried to take some of that into account while negotiating, but what’s available to Ali is significantly less than what is probably held in Lana’s head.

“Sorry. I did leave the deal unsigned,” I say, gesturing slightly and sending over the details. “I’m sure we can adjust it, if necessary.”

“It will be,” Lana mutters, staring at the document for a second before she dismisses the notification. “It’s… later. I’ll deal with it later.”

“And about the settlements…” I consider what to say. Eventually, I go with the simplest. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lana stares at me for a moment then steps forward to give me a hard hug, murmuring into my chest, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“So am I.”

After that, we end up speaking about other things, just catching up. Even if our lives revolve around the System and the changes that have happened, we’ve still got lives. Hopes and dreams. Or at least, Lana does—and it’s her who ends up speaking mostly, gossiping about familiar friends, about changes in the settlement and mutual acquaintances. I find out that Jason and Sarah now have a trio of kids, the ankle-biters incredibly cute. Based on the videos that I view, I swear, all three of the kids must have specced Charisma.

I learn a lot about the world I left behind and the changes that have happened, the growth of the settlements. And perhaps one other thing—the deep pride Lana holds over the settlements, their growth and improvement. Vancouver’s a Large Town now, well on its way to being a city.

Hours pass quickly, and I can almost forget the last few years and think we are back. But there’s a distance between us now, a change in our relationship that neither of us dares prod or push too far. When I consider it, it leaves a dull ache in my heart, but it’s dull. Perhaps because I always dreaded this, always feared something like this for when I returned. Or perhaps I’ve just pushed down the pain.

We talk, and eventually we part when we hit the second sentry group, the guards offering quick nods to us. Lana heads deeper into the compound while I stand at the edge, repressed thoughts and emotions churning.

Logically, I understand what happened—I was gone for years, with little guarantee that I’d be back, and we never had the relationship conversation even when we were together. We’d been working toward something more permanent, but we had both been hurt. And busy. So damn busy. Then I disappeared right after she lost Anna, leaving her to pick up the pieces of my settlements and an alliance that had relied on my Skill. Is it any surprise that she eventually found comfort somewhere else? If I hadn’t been stuck on a barren rock filled with murderous monsters and aliens, I might have succumbed too.

“John,” Mikito greets me as she walks up, the Japanese lady completing her perimeter walk. “You okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” I say, looking at her.

“Then stop standing at the perimeter without moving. You’re scaring the guards,” Mikito says.

I frown, wondering why, then realize I’ve been standing here for minutes. Huh. “I…”

“Come on,” Mikito says, gesturing for me to start walking.

I frown but follow her, curious about where she’s taking me before realizing it’s probably just to have another chat. A part of me wants to decline, to back out. Heart-to-hearts are draining. But…

“On the platform.”

I blink, realizing we’re standing in the middle of a clearing dominated by a small glowing platform that looks like Star Trek’s teleportation array, bracketed by gleaming steel pillars. I frown, but Mikito’s already walking onto it and looking at me impatiently, so I join her.

“Where are we going?”

“To work.”

Lights flare, growing so bright I have to squint before the world lurches, sending my stomach and senses spinning. And then the world disappears.

Chapter 4

“This.” Stab. “Is.” Pivot. “Not.” Kick. “What.” Cast. “I.” Cut. “Was.” Lunge. “Expecting.”

I recover and look around at the dead bodies of the monsters we’ve been fighting littered all around us. I do a mental tally and relax slightly when the number of half-dismembered heads and corpses equal the number of attackers I counted. The minimap agrees, but my time in the other world has made me rely on it much less. Too many ways for it to be tricked or be wrong.

For a moment, I regard the monster remains. Truly weird, these Penangallan. They start the fights with their full bodies, but if they aren’t killed immediately, they detach halfway through the fight and float their now tougher and more impervious heads and innards to attack us. That they use a combination of magic and an acid spit attack makes them even more annoying. As it stands, the pitted and scarred concrete and marble hallway is evidence of how hard they fought.

With a growl, I shake my head and glance out the hotel hallway to stare at the abandoned remnants of the city of Davao in the Philippines. Luckily, the teleportation managed to get us close to the city center, allowing us to meet up with the rest of the team here, rather than fighting through the monster-infested city.

“Does he always complain like that?” Hugo Karlsson, the six-foot-eight-inches, blond-haired, blue-eyed ubermensch asks.

I glance at the Level 21 Winter Ranger and find him staring back at me challengingly. Once again, I break eye contact first rather than push things.

“Come now, Hugo, you are being unfair. Mr. Lee has helped us clear this dungeon much faster,” Jamal Naser, the Level 39 Desert Seer, says to defend me. The native berber from Morocco nods at me, the older man with the rectangular face and dusky skin standing up from the corpses he has finished looting to wipe his left hand clean. Thankfully, I’ve got Ali to do my looting for me.

“Faster. But not needed,” Cheng Shao says.

“True. But I didn’t ask to join you,” I say to Shao, wondering what I did to annoy the black-haired Metal Mage.

Unfortunately, from the moment Mikito portaled us to this city, we barely had time for more than a few words of greeting before we launched our attack. Even at a glance, I can tell why we’re here—this dungeon is about to overrun its boundaries. We’ve got a ton of monsters to kill, making the trip through the space-altering, gravity-defying hotel floors even more annoying than normal. That the monsters are all at least Level 80, with some elites hitting Level 100, doesn’t make our fight any easier. It says something about the team we’re working with that we’re still cutting through the dungeon like a five-year-old with cake.

Then again, Shao and Hugo are both Master Classes. I admit, it was a bit of a blow to my ego to realize I’m not that special. After all, when the System came, others managed to luck out with their Perks and skip a Class level like me. And really, it’s a good thing for humanity that there are others who can kick ass.

“We can understand that,” Jamal replies to me, since no one else does. “But you’ll also understand that being pulled away from our normal duties for an unscheduled delve can be frustrating. We all have responsibilities.”

“Photo ops,” Mikito says with a sniff. “Speeches.”

“Not all of us crave the front lines,” a wide-hipped, curly-haired, short black woman with a strong Southern accent replies. Jessica Knox, Level 37 Cat Burglar and our scout for this little delve. I have to admit, she’s a looker with curves that go on for days, dark skin, and dreads to keep her curls in place.

“Move please.” Rae, the last member of the team rolls up in his mecha as he speaks, smaller mechanical arms whirling and buzzing as the arms exit the enclosed cockroach-like vehicle-cum-armor. Within seconds, the body next to me is dismembered, the mechanical arms pulling out the important parts and storing them away.

Normally, I’d put the bodies into my Altered Storage space, but I’ve yet to visit a proper Shop to sell four years’ worth of valuable corpses. Anyway, mecha man is getting all the expensive bits.

“Map update incoming,” the robotic voice says.

I grunt, getting the new notification from Rae. Just Rae. No last name, no indicator of sex. Other than the fact that he or she is a Level 42 Silver Cyborg, I’ve got nothing. And discreet inquiries to Mikito has yielded no further information. Rae doesn’t leave its robot—if it can. In fact, outside of such campaigns, Rae doesn’t interact with the rest of the champions. Still, their Skills and abilities are useful.

Using its skills, Rae attached a bug to Jessica for when she scouts. That bug then gives us a map of the areas the Burglar has explored, along with the monsters she’s seen. The level of detail in the updates is higher than anything I ever got from my drones—or Sam did from his—which is pretty impressive. It’s another reason why we’re kicking this dungeon’s ass. That Rae’s bugs can punch the basic updates to us through the dense Mana cloud inside the dungeon is even more impressive.

“All I’m saying is that we’re wasting good XP on this newcomer,” Hugo says.

I almost grind my teeth but push the anger aside. After all, Hugo was just a kid when all this started. And even if I don’t agree with the trend of seeing our new world as a game, he’s obviously made it work for him. And again, I remind myself, I’m an outsider here.

“This is a working introduction,” Mikito says simply, pointing with her naginata down the curved hallway. “So let’s work.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be here,” Shao says, her eyes glittering with contempt. “What has he done? I’ve never even heard of him.”

“Explorer. Monster Bane. Duelist. Master Class,” Rae’s metallic voice chirps from the trundling mecha. “Significant achievements.”

“And no fame,” Jessica says, shaking her head. “You know he won’t be accepted by the public.”

“Who cares about that?” Jamal says with a snort. “I’m happy to have another reliable body clearing these dungeons. Or on the front lines.”

“I do,” Jessica snaps. “I’ve got sponsorship deals to worry about here.”

“You know, no one’s asked if I want to be part of your little book club,” I say, frowning at the surge of dots coming.

I raise my hand, forming an Enhanced Lightning Strike then punch it out without a word of warning. The Lightning darts forward, formed through the connection and channel I’ve created. The bright streaks of light hurt our eyes in the enclosed space. The Penangallan that get caught scream, twitching in agony as the lightning cooks their innards. It doesn’t take long before the other members add their area effect spells and Skills, tearing up the next wave before it reaches us.

“We’re the champions,” Jamal says, as if that statement is sufficient.

I guess, for many, it would be. After all, not to mention the fame and Credits they earn, the experience gains from running higher Level dungeons on a consistent basis would be very attractive. In this new world, Levels are power, just like money used to be in our previous world. It doesn’t matter where you are, Levels talk.

As for Jamal’s presumptive statement, I stay silent. It’s not my job to correct his misconceptions and overblown ego. While they might see this as a protracted interview, a testing ground to see if I’m worthy to join them, I’m taking it as a nice way to let loose a little. Not all the way, since I’d like to keep a few cards hidden, but enough to work out some of the frustrations that have been boiling up inside me. Juvenile perhaps, but hitting things is therapeutic. Stuck as I was, I’ve learned to take my stress relief where I can, even if it’s in the middle of a battlefield.

My continued silence drives the group to turn to other topics. Discussions about Skills, spells, and equipment dominate at first, with tactics and weird monsters leading. I keep an ear out, especially since most of these creatures sit around my target range. It’s kind of nice to be around people who can relate. But eventually, the topic shifts as we ascend the hotel floors.

“Hey, Cheng, were you able to get those tickets for KMC?” Jessica asks pleadingly. “You promised!”

“It’s Shao. I’ve told you before,” Cheng Shao says. “And their manager has promised us VIP passes. But they might have to delay the concert.”

“Again?” Jessica says grumpily.

“Soo-yi hasn’t managed to Level yet. They’re planning to hit that new Level 70 dungeon north of Seoul first,” Shao explains as her hands move, enchanted knives darting through the air to intercept and stab the Penangallan that attempt to swarm her.

“Oh, come on, you’re going on about that band again?” Hugo groans.

“And why shouldn’t we? Their music is great!”

“It’s manufactured and sterile. It’s no wonder they can kill with their songs. I’d die if I had to listen to their music again,” Hugo says grumpily.

“Please, you’re still bitter we won that bet.”

“Bet?” I mutter to Mikito as I duck, grabbing twisted intestines and slamming the body into a nearby wall.

“They made us listen to the band’s greatest hits on a delve. On repeat. For eight hours,” Mikito says with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh.” I stare at the disgusting bunch of intestines that the System considers “loot” from the Penangallan before handing them to Mikito.

The samurai doesn’t even blink as she stores them away. It’s Credits. Even if my culinary preferences are broad, I’m not entirely sure I want to know the eventual use of those. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss when it comes to gastronomic delights.

“The band runs dungeons?” I say with a frown, considering what I’ve overheard.

“Yes. They’re an Advanced Class team, sixth highest ranked in Seoul’s Adventurer Team chart,” Jessica burbles happily. “Of course, not all the original members of KMC survived, but most did. And they all have the Class Siren.

“At first, they Leveled up from a variety of Basic musician and entertainer Classes, but their manager had them run a dangerous Advanced Class dungeon. The surviving members all got the Advanced Class Siren, and their ‘Song of Redemption’ can boost stats up to ten percent for six hours. And it’s partially stackable!”

At first, I attempt to stop the gush of information, but when I realize that the talk is actually annoying Hugo—and somehow, not stopping Jessica from doing her job—I leave her to it. It’s a bit disturbing that she manages to project her voice from kilometers away to continue chattering while scouting, but Skills are weird.

Eventually, after numerous wrong turns, we make our way to the end of the dungeon. At one point, Mikito stops to deal with the fallout of stealing me away in the middle of the night, making muttered promises to return me over her communicator. But the violence is useful, giving me time to not only assess Earth’s best but also to vent. Not that every single one of the “champions” are here, but the majority of them are.

When we finally put down the dungeon boss—a fight that had little suspense and fewer surprises beyond the wide-scale Iron Whirlwind spell cast by Cheng Shao—the group quickly loots the various corpses before reaching the objective of the mission. Davao’s City Core also serves as the Dungeon Core.

“Whose turn is it?” Jamal asks, none of the group moving to touch the Core that glows quietly in the middle of the once-immaculate ballroom.

“Mine,” Jessica says before placing her hand on it.

We all get the notification, and for the next few minutes, things get busy as the monsters go into a frenzy, intent on driving Jessica away from the orb. Unfortunately for them, we’re fighting a defensive battle here, which makes things significantly simpler. The monsters, on the other hand, have multiple floors to ascend and a chokepoint to force their way through. It’s a slaughter.

The moment Jessica takes over the settlement and dungeon core, she banishes the dungeon settings, which leads to an exodus of Mana from our surroundings. That’ll cause its own set of problems in the city as the Mana searches for a way to purge itself. Eventually, a new dungeon will form. For now, Jessica purchases upgrades to the building we’re in, reinforcing the steel doors and adding a few automated sentinels on this level and the bottom one, making the entrance to the core more difficult.

“That’ll do for now,” Jessica says, eyeing the giant steel doors that now block off access to the City Core. “We’ll be teleporting guards in once I’ve reported back.”

At those words and the obvious dismissal, the team splits up. Shao and Hugo activate communicators, pinging their location to their people before they’re teleported away. Rae rolls out, headed for the roof. Ali sends me an image of the reinforced blimp-like flying vehicle that is slowly floating toward the hotel, ready for a pickup. Jamal, on the other hand, stays behind with Jessica in the City Core. That leaves Mikito and myself to walk down the stairs alone, in thoughtful silence for a time.

“So I’m guessing I failed?” I say, a sardonic grin twisting my lips.

“No. They’re just uncertain,” Mikito says. “Once your reputation rises…”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t joking when I said I wasn’t interested.”

“What did you think?” Mikito asks, and there’s a plaintive tone in her voice that makes me pause.

I actually consider the question properly, reviewing in my mind what I saw. “They’re good. They all understand how to use control their Skills, Mana, and Stamina drain. I don’t even recall anyone using any potions. Well-coordinated. Could be better, but considering you guys probably don’t fight together all the time, more than adequate. No one’s left alone to run out of Mana or Stamina. This wasn’t the hardest test, but they passed it with flying colors anyway.”

“We’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Yes. But…” I consider how to put this. How to explain some of what I’ve learned, what I’ve had to expand on. “They’re too reliant on the surface. They use the basics of their attribute gains, their Skills, and don’t dig further.”

“What do you mean?” Mikito says with a frown.

“Our attribute increases aren’t linear. There’s some overlap between each individual, but the differences between races are significant. Well, part of that is because we’re not looking in the right places,” I say softly. “Strength is the simplest example. A ten-point increase in it doesn’t just increase your lifting power. It affects how that lifting power affects other System-registered entities. It lets you ignore a portion of their defense, of their health, if you know how to tap into it. It allows you to do this.” I push off with a toe, flinging myself into the air and against a nearby wall, then I push again with a finger when I hit it, flinging myself toward the ceiling. Each of those movements leave the floor and wall untouched, but when I reach the ceiling, I exert my Strength in a different way, shattering the ceiling tiles as I push myself toward the ground, only to land without disturbing the floor. “And this.”

Mikito’s eyes widen, staring at the four spots I’ve touched, even as the dust from my example falls around us. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction—except when it doesn’t. We’ve all kind of accepted that the System breaks “normal” laws, but what I’ve learned is that it doesn’t. It’s just that we aren’t seeing the other forces, aren’t understanding the whole picture.

“It’s just the start,” I say, tapping my head. “Willpower gifts us Mana Regeneration and ways of dealing with manipulation spells. But it can alter and shift how Skills like Auras and Charisma work. It can even make the information we feed the System more obscure. Willpower dictates your pain resistance and your recovery rates. It even, from what I can see, deals with things like PTSD if used correctly. Every attribute has a different application than we think, but we don’t use it.”

“Is this what you learned? When you were gone?” Mikito asks softly, staring at my solemn expression. I nod before she huffs, “Guess you weren’t on the beach.”

“No. And I’m not going to be lazing around here either. I’ve got a lot to catch up on and playing hero isn’t my goal. Certainly not for fame or Credits.”

“Isn’t it?” Mikito says, stepping forward and looking into my eyes. “Wasn’t that what we were doing? Before you left.”

“No. We were doing what was necessary.”

“Necessary for what?”

I come to a stop as I realize that Mikito never did ask. Not the entire time we worked together. She accepted my lead, following where I pointed. For a time, I stand there, blinking as the realization hits.

“John…?”

“Sorry.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought. “Necessary for us to survive. And for me to get the settlements so I could vote.”

“The Planetary election,” Mikito states.

“Yes,” I say, nodding firmly. “We need to get on the Galactic Council.”

Mikito purses her lips, tilting her head as she considers me. “That will help Earth?”

“Yes. We’d have more say, more options. We’d be able to put rules in place once we’re officially registered. We’d gain status.”

“The difference between a System-registered town and one not,” Mikito says, floating the sentence for me to confirm. When I do, she nods firmly. “What can I do?”

“I’m not sure. Not yet,” I say.

“Ask.”

I offer her a nod in confirmation.

“And when that’s done? What’s next?”

“Then I leave. The Council, the galaxy. There’s a lot more going on, out there, than the fight for a single planet. Our world, our losses, they’re a drop in an unimaginably large ocean,” I say.

Mikito purses her lips, staring at me as she considers what I’ve said. In the end, she gestures to the side. “Portal back, please.”

“Sure. I’m going straight to Vancouver though,” I say even as I open one back to the army camp.

Mikito pauses before she steps into the Portal, the black oval swallowing her without a ripple. I’m left in the red carpeted hallway, the damage to the ceiling slowly but visibly patching itself up, alone once again with the silence and my thoughts.

That last silent look… I draw a deep breath, wondering how much she guessed. Because there is another reason why I—we—need to get on the Galactic Council. I need to get out there, to see and learn more. There are answers to my questions in the wider world, answers that cannot be found on Earth. As I stand in silence in the dimly lit hall, a memory surfaces.

“These questions about the System, they’re dangerous,” Ka’lla d’Mak says. Butt-length yellow-green hair spills down his back as he walks ahead of me, heading deeper into the cave system we call home. “I was forced to live here because of them.”

“But the answers are out there.” I limp along, dragging the eight-ton, ninety-foot-long corpse.

“Some answers aren’t worth your life,” Ka’lla says.

“Some are.”

“Then be wary who you ask. And how you ask. For everyone under the System may be your enemy.”

“Yes.”

Memory. I push it aside, staring around me as the sense of paranoia and wariness I thought had disappeared comes back. That’s right. Earth isn’t mine anymore. Or me, its.

With a gesture, a Portal opens and I step forward. Time to get to work.

Chapter 5

“Mr. Lee. Welcome back.” Katherine greets me from behind my—her?—desk as I step through the Portal into my office. Or her office. If you leave a place for four years, do you lose it? Even if my ownership has been kept, it’s not as if Katherine and Lana haven’t been running my settlements for me.

Coming through the Portal, I had Ali slide in first to make sure I didn’t have to worry about anything. Thankfully, I didn’t. I’ll admit, I would have been annoyed if I wasn’t pre-approved to Portal into my own settlements. The last thing I want to do is have my atoms torn apart while Portaling home.

I offer a quick nod to my assistant as she stands and moves swiftly and calmly from around the desk. The older ex-secretary is dressed in a finely cut office suit, one in pale grey that suits her figure completely and sets off the light grey in her hair well. I absently note that she’s got a rather distinctive necklace, which I’m pretty sure is enchanted. A brief viewing of her via Mana Sense confirms that intuition, and furthermore that her earrings, belt, and a bracelet are all enchanted. An impressive amount of magical equipment for an Assistant. Then again, other than Lana, she was—is—the individual in charge of one of the largest settlement groups in North America. Or would you call it a country?

Katherine Ward (Level 18 Settlement Manager)

HP: 410/410

MP: 1023/1480

Conditions: Ablative Shield, Pre-cognitive sense, Settlement Link

Well, I guess she’s not really an Assistant anymore. Her rise in Level is a bit surprising, as is her new Class. But I guess being officially hired and running my settlements has done wonders for her experience gain.

“WELCOME BACK,” Kim, my settlement AI answers.

Almost immediately, I get a notification that my AI has upgraded since I left, going up a Tier and increasing its processing powers significantly. Since we left Kim linked up to the Vancouver settlement City Cores, I’m not surprised that the AI had been upgraded along with the city. Notifications pile up in the corner of my eyes, most of which I ignore for now.

“UPDATING NEURAL LINK WITH SETTLEMENT INFORMATION ALONG WITH NECESSARY SECURITY PROTOCOLS, PASSES, AND DATA. PLEASE WAIT.”

“Oy, bits for brains, you keeping our settlements running?” Ali says as he stands in the middle of the office, acting like a crazy person talking into empty space. Thank the gods I learned how to mentally chat with him a long time ago, or else I’d really look insane.

“WITHOUT ADDITIONAL ORDERS TO THE CONTRARY, I HAVE BEEN AIDING MS. PEARSON AND MS. WARD IN DEVELOPING THE SETTLEMENTS. AN UPDATED REPORT ON ALL CHANGES HAS BEEN UPLOADED,” Kim notifies us via blue notification tab that he / her / it speaks in. One day, I swear, I’ll land on a sex or designation for Kim. But I think it is probably out. It just feels so inhumane. Which, I’ll admit, is technically correct. “I HAVE ALSO TAKEN THE LIBERTY TO INFORM THE SECURITY FORCES OUTSIDE TO STAND DOWN.”

“Thank you, Katherine. Kim,” I say, ignoring the last line. Not as if they’d actually shoot me. Would they? Actually, maybe having random people who Portal into my office without a direct invitation get shot as a matter of course is good protocol. “I’ll review the data later. And I’m glad we won’t need to switch out the furniture here.”

“Just the furniture?” Kim asks and I grin wolfishly. I’m pretty sure I could contain the destruction if needed.

“Do you not consider our security forces sufficient?” Katherine asks.

“To deal with me? A pair of Level 17 Advanced Bodyguards?” I snort. “Even before I left, it wouldn’t be sufficient. Though they probably could buy you the time you’d need to activate that teleport beacon you’ve got stashed behind the desk.”

Katherine raises an eyebrow, the only indication of surprise she allows herself. I don’t elaborate on how the moment Ali swung in, he was already ripping information about the building from the City Core and sending me the relevant bits. Or how here, in the center of my own settlement, I basically have any information I want or need only a thought away. The degree of information I have access to is rather scary—and makes me realize how badly I underestimated how great an advantage Roxley had whenever I visited him. With the massive increases in Intelligence that I’ve gained, I can now do things like subconsciously download all those notifications Kim is pushing at me, something I could never do before my little trip.

“May I know what is the agenda for today?” Katherine asks, changing topics.

“You tell me. What were you going to be doing if I had not interrupted you?” I ask.

“I was about to spend the next hour reviewing and answering the correspondence left for me overnight. Next, I have a committee meeting with the integrated Vancouver council about the latest updates on our build cycle and zoning for additional industries and infrastructure. There has been a significant push to increase the available space for our marine salvage and hunting operations, with a request for a second butchering yard. Of course, there is concern that the additional refuse from the butchering yard and its ancillary industries will provoke additional marine threats.” Katherine stops as she must see my eyes glaze over.

From what I can tell, her day is basically a series of meetings. It’s just who she meets that changes—from the mayors of the other towns to Galactic Guilds, Corporations, or local ones, it seems like she’s basically spending the day either in meetings or reading paperwork.

“Right…” I shudder slightly, considering delving back into all this. And then, I consider that I actually haven’t been needed for the last four years and decide there isn’t a point. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to continue doing these meetings. I’m going to throw up a notification video and watch and listen in while I catch up on, well, everything. Fair enough?”

Katherine nods, accepting my words without complaint. At least for the moment. I’m glad because after my talking to by Lana, I figure it’s better for me to get caught up before I mire myself in the running of my settlements. The fact that the settlements, together, really make up a country, even if we don’t designate it that way, is just another reason to stay out of it.

“Ali, got a few jobs for you.” I send the thought to my Spirit as I take a seat behind the desk.

The Spirit startles slightly, guiltily putting back the pear he picked up from Katherine’s desk, a neat bite marring its surface. Katherine perches on a chair opposite me, her eyes glazing over slightly as she returns to reading her notifications on screens only she can see.

“Shoot, boy-o.”

“You’ll like the first one. We need to dump my inventory and the corpses in my Altered Space. Think you can handle that?”

“Easy. I’ll make sure to not fleece them too hard,” Ali sends back, a slight smirk in his voice.

Good. That deals with clearing out my storage and getting some actual Credits, and this way, his new physical body can be put to good use. The corpses of the Level 120+ monsters that I kept in my Altered Space can easily increase the Levels of any Butcher, Skinner, or other Artisan who works on them, so it’s best to get those out ASAP. And making some Credits and Leveling my people was the whole point of dragging them all the way back.

With that taken care of, I focus on the next steps. Getting to know my own settlements.

Summarized Settlement Status

Current Population: 498,308

Total Number of Settlements: 13

Combined Settlement Treasury: 4,314.87 Million Credits (+12M per day)

Combined Settlement Mana: 333,412 Mana Points (+981 Mana per day)

Taxes: 10% Sales Tax on Shop

Facilities of Note: City Dungeons (3), Tier II Guilds (1), Tier III Guild Buildings (9), Military Complex (2), Mega Farms (3), Tier III Butchering Yards (4), Tier III Weapons Workshop (1) Teleportation Pads (Short Range * 11, Long Range * 2), Artisans University (1), Hyperlink (3—see map for link)

Enchantments of Note: Mana Collection Fields (3), Mana Shield Resistance Enhancement (6), Field of Clarity (1)

Defenses of Note: Settlement Shields (Tier II * 1, III * 8), Quantum Lock (Type 2 Static, Type 4 Dynamic—see map for coverage), Sentries (Tier II * 3, III * 4)

“Thirteen settlements, Kim?”

“IT WAS DETERMINED, TO BE MORE EFFICIENT, TO LINK CITY CORES FOR GREATER VANCOUVER, VICTORIA, KELOWNA, AND OTHER LARGER CITIES. THE TOTAL NUMBER REPRESENT THE NEW STRUCTURE,” Kim replies. “DO YOU REQUIRE A LIST OF SUCH SETTLEMENTS?”

“Map will do.”

“DONE.”

I stare at the map of the province with its glowing dots, my lips pursed. Vancouver is the largest dot of course. Victoria, Kamloops, and Kelowna rival each other in size, with smaller settlements like Prince George, Golden, and Fort Nelson surprisingly large now. It takes only a single query to explain why—high Level zones nearby have boosted the Adventuring population around these cities, pushing their growth. Of interest to me as well is the fact that the quantum lock doesn’t just include the cities but much of the land between the settlements on the mainland. Right now though, the lock doesn’t include Victoria, leaving the city covered by its own little bubble. I’m interested by the little lines that create a triangle of high-speed transportation signifying the development of the hyperloop. A part of me wonders how they’re keeping the monsters from wrecking it.

Oh. They aren’t. That’s why it’s not been pushed out farther. I sigh, shaking my head. A part of me wonders who ever considered putting a delicate piece of technology in the field where random monster spawns could wreck it. A part of me wants to curse the rather wasteful use of my Credits, but another part points out I wasn’t here. In the end, I settle for making a note to Kim that this is not to happen again. At least it’s not a complete waste—it seems the hyperloop churns out a nice and repeatable series of Quests for both combat Classers and Artisans.

For a time, I stare at the stored Credits and Mana and briefly daydream about the kind of things I could do with that amount of funds. The sheer volume and variety of Skills I could buy… then I shake my head and dismiss the thought. Thankfully, it isn’t possible to transfer settlement Credits into your own pocket—outside of some specific salary caps—or else the oldest kingdoms and corporations would be impossibly dominant. Not that they don’t already have a nasty advantage over the rest of us.

“How many days of Mana and Credits is that? If we don’t generate any additional,” I ask, curious to get an idea of how we’re doing.

“THE SETTLEMENT MANA BURN RATE IS NINETEEN DAYS. CREDITS ARE SIX.”

“That’s not good,” I mutter.

“What isn’t, Mr. Lee?” Katherine asks, looking at me.

“We don’t seem to have much in reserve,” I say, waving at the screen she can’t see and realizing that only after I do so.

“Are you looking at the financials?” When I nod, she continues. “It was a decision made by the council to emphasize growth over stability at this time, with the attendant risks.”

“Nineteen days though?” I can understand that reasoning, but why is the Mana reserve so much higher?

“Researching and applying appropriate settlement-wide enchantments have been slow. Our next scheduled update will see the addition of a Mage’s College to the Artisans University,” Katherine says.

I nod. A good decision overall. I fall silent, prodding the screen a little more and getting confirmation that the settlement notification is hiding anything below Tier III. It means that most generic upgraded buildings like residences, System-registered retail stores, or workshops are left out.

I dig into the settlement screen, pulling up specific information for each city as I try to get a better understanding of the state of affairs. Katherine leaves with a soft goodbye to head for her meeting down the hallway, a simple gesture getting me the in-house video feed. I lower the volume and split my attention as I continue reading.

Interestingly enough, unlike my previous decision, they’ve integrated the other cities around Vancouver into a single collective settlement. Burnaby, Surrey, and the like still have their own Cores, but they aren’t City Cores anymore, instead earmarked as Neighborhood Cores. One of the main advantages of this setup is that a Neighborhood Core can be taken over like any City Core, but it only removes access for the original owner. It does not confer upon the conqueror any of the abilities of the Core, which is basically in a “shutdown” mode until the main City Core is taken. Of course, there are negatives, including a loss of Advanced building spots. It’s not a complete loss since the System uses a calculation based off population, area, and number of Cores to ascertain the number of such spots, but it is a significant number.

It’s kind of weird in a way, if you think about it. Most “normal” Galactic cities grow from a single Core, their development dictated by the population and buildings that are constructed, with tiers locked behind Mana and Credit thresholds. For Earth though, we had a bunch of these City Cores designated, forcing us to eventually sell, destroy, or consolidate the Cores to make our settlements viable with our new populations. In some cases, rather than having settlements located in optimal positions—near higher Level zones for Adventuring or in a low Level zone for agriculture and farming—we’ve basically built our population centers around existing areas and done our best to work around the realities of a Dungeon World. It's why some of our smaller towns are growing so quickly, and why one of Katherine’s meetings is another discussion about tearing down a tiny settlement to get at its settlement key to create a more useful one.

Still, it is what it is, and for all that, we’re doing well. Continuing on with some of my initial objectives, many of the settlements specialize in production. Kamloops is fast becoming a major trading hub and Artisan center for weapons production, while Kelowna continues to churn out highly valuable, Galactically-desired agricultural products. It helps that the Artisan Guild based in the city has lent their expertise, increasing the variety of products they produce and making the city another jump-off point for Adventurers attempting the high-Level Rockies.

Vancouver acts as a hub for now, with our City Dungeon, training facilities, and port all important centers of interest. It is also the center of governance and where most of our hard-hitters live, the easy access to our long-range teleportation pads allowing us to react to monster hordes and regional Quests with ease. Victoria, on the other hand, is the redheaded stepchild of the settlements, its position on Vancouver Island making it mostly self-sufficient. In fact, I notice a report indicating we’re seeing a slow, but steady, decrease in the human population there. On the other hand, we’re also seeing a rather sharp increase in Galactic immigration, especially among nautical-favored monsters. Discussions on what to do about these changes have dominated a number of meetings, which is kind of amusing.

“Kim. What are Regional Quests?”

“ALSO KNOWN AS KINGDOM QUESTS, REGIONAL QUESTS MAY BE GENERATED BY EITHER THE PRESIDING GOVERNMENT OR BY THE SYSTEM. WOULD YOU LIKE A CURRENT EXAMPLE?”

“Hit me.”

“DEPLOYING SENTRY.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I say, my voice rising. Then a slight hiss and cackle make my eyes widen. “You gained a sense of humor.”

“IN A WAY. AS MS. PEARSON HAS NOTED.”

“Uh-huh. Quest.”

Western British Columbia Regional Quest: From Ashes

As a fast-growing population center, the WBC Region is on the brink of developing into a truly significant regional power. Help (or hinder) the local government with this quest.

Requirements: 2 Cities, 5 Large Towns, 8 Towns

Rewards: Will vary depending on aid (or hindrance) offered.

Accept Regional Quest to receive additional sub-quests.

Western British Columbia Regional Quest: Untamed Wilderness

No government can last while their population faces constant, encompassing fear for their existence. At the minimum, the general population should not fear being driven from their homes by uncontested monsters.

Requirements: 30 Days with 0 Beast Waves

Accept Regional Quest to receive additional sub-quests.

I admit, I’m tempted to add both to my Quest list. A few quick queries confirms a nagging fear though—the type of quests I would receive is dependent on my Reputation and Fame, and due to my long absence, I don’t have much of either. Even if no one else can see these attributes, the System is tracking it all.

Once I have a clearer idea of the status of my settlements, I make sure to check on how Katherine’s doing. Katherine—and Kim in silent support—is handling the meeting well. Better than I would anyway, so I ignore their meeting for the moment. Well, beyond making a note to visit the harbor at some point to see if I can murder a few nautical beasts. From a secure and stable piece of ground. Somewhere along the way, my higher Willpower significantly reduced my phobia for water without me realizing it, but I still won’t go swimming with a batch of whale-sized monsters if I have a choice.

I glance at the two notifications that sit quietly awaiting my inspection.

Dropped off the bodies. Expect to get remainder Credits in a few weeks.

+138,950 Credits

Visiting the Shop to sell System-registered loot. You should visit too—you need to update your Skills.

As I was finishing up on the last notification, a smaller notification flickered up, startling me slightly.

+1,238,194 Credits

My mind stutters to a stop when I see the numbers. This is more money than I’ve ever had. Sure, I knew we had filled out my not-inconsiderable inventory and Altered Space and the monsters we fought were particularly high Leveled, but this was somewhat ridiculous. I find myself staring at the information for a long time, daydreaming about what I could spend my sudden wealth on. More Skills. More Spells. Maybe a significant upgrade on my poor mecha. I go so far as to pull out a notification screen that shows some of what can be purchased via the Shop.

“A CHANGE OF WARDROBE WOULD BE APPROPRIATE.”

I look down, staring at the torn, patched, and re-patched armored jumpsuit I’m wearing and chuckle. Right. Perhaps a new wardrobe.

“Thanks,” I mutter to Kim then dismiss the windows. Shopping later. First, I have to look at the results of the past Planetary Election.

To get registered as a voting member of the Galactic Council, a planet has to be able to send a “member with significant authority” to it. This member is determined via voting on the Planetary Voting Platform at regular intervals. However, there are caveats. Firstly, the candidate has to gain over eighty percent of all registered votes. Furthermore, for the Planetary Vote to become active, the planet has to reach a few threshold numbers—a minimum of five percent of its planet’s surface area has to be under active management and surveillance, and a minimum population threshold has to be reached.

“Isn’t five percent a bit low?” I say out loud to Kim.

“THE AMOUNT OF SURFACE USE WAS REGISTERED AS A COMPROMISE TO DEAL WITH MORE VOLATILE PLANETARY CENTERS. IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT THE MAJORITY OF REGISTERED SETTLEMENT VOTES FOR EARTH ARE ONLY ON ITS LANDMASSES. TOTAL LANDMASS ON EARTH CURRENTLY COMPRISES ONLY TWENTY-NINE PERCENT OF PLANETARY SURFACE.”

Right… huh. So that five percent is actually quite high, if you think of it that way. That’s nearly one sixth of all land on Earth, which includes areas like the Arctic and giant swaths of desert. Digging deeper, I realize that Earth only barely managed to achieve the second requirement recently—and that’s due to the liberal use of Forts to cover more ground. Without our use of Forts and the additional new settlements that various Galactic parties built in the more inhospitable regions, we’d not have reached that minimum number.

That areas like the Arctic and Antarctic have actually seen a minor boom in number of settlements, as Galactics who prefer such environments take advantage of the lack of competition from us natives, amuses me. I even make a note to visit one of them sometime, if I ever get a chance.

Problem is, even if we do qualify for a Galactic Seat, we don’t have enough votes for one specific person. I flick up a few different notification screens to get a better idea, parsing the publicly available information about who owns what, with Kim’s aid to understand the situation a little better. In the end, the answer is simple.

Humans are idiots.

When the first settlement survey was held just over six months after the end of the System integration period, humanity had just over sixty percent of the total number of potential votes. Of course, since Earth did not have the requisite land use percentage, the vote was put on hold for another six months. And six months after that again and again and again until three months ago. Regret rushes through me for a second as I realize that if I had been around, if I had taken over more cities, we might have had a chance before this.

Of course, the vote three months ago didn’t amount to anything. With a flick of my hands, I bring up the previous year’s results once again.

41.2% Human-Controlled Settlement Votes

8.8% Movana and associated allies

17.6% Truinnar and associated allies

3.8% Ares Corporation

21.64% Miscellaneous kingdoms and associations

6.96% Unclaimed Settlement Areas

At the last vote, no one received over twenty percent of the vote. The closest were the Truinnar, where Roxley received nearly twelve percent of the vote as the members of his race backed the dark elf. It was no surprise that most individuals consolidated their votes along species lines or just voted for themselves and called it a day because there was no chance this was ever going to pass. But not humanity. No, we split our votes. I spot the three top human candidates and dig into their details a bit further.

Bipasha Chowdury is a Weaver who seemed to generate most of her votes from the Indian sub-continent and, surprisingly enough, is a member of the champions. Interesting that she wasn’t at the last fight, but the group is more a loose coalition than a formal organization.

Rob Markey is an American, the ex US Secretary of Agriculture and now leader of the largest of the three American governments.

And lastly, there’s an African who has managed to garner nearly fifteen percent of all the votes, including the majority of the African ones, named Ikael Tafar. I’ll need to speak with and meet all of them at some point.

Outside of that, the political lines are easy enough to discern for the Galactics. The Movana have no desire for the Truinnar to gain another Galactic Seat. Their first option is to obstruct, the second to ally. The Truinnar, of course, believe that since Earth is technically within the scope of their territory, we’re “theirs.” Even if this is a Dungeon World, they aren’t exactly known for being a kind and sharing bunch and aren’t likely to agree to us having the Galactic Seat ourselves. Which makes working with them difficult at best. Luckily, I know their leading candidate. Obviously, since the Truinnar and the Movana don’t like each other, there’s no way to get both of them on board with the vote.

As for the Ares Corporation…

“ARES CORPORATION, THE SIXTH BIGGEST ARMS MANUFACTURER GALACTIC WIDE AND THE LARGEST IN THIS QUADRANT. THEY HAVE CLAIMED NUMEROUS SECONDARY SETTLEMENTS IN CLOSE PROXIMITY TO LARGER, MORE ESTABLISHED LOCATIONS. ARES HAS UNDERTAKEN TO PROVIDE RESOURCES, SERVICES, AND TRANSPORTATION FOR THESE SETTLEMENTS, AS WELL AS ALLOCATING PRODUCTION FACILITIES.”

Secondary settlements, huh? I guess that makes sense. If you’re looking to have a place you can control, going smaller rather than larger makes sense. You’re less likely to have to fight for the settlement, and infrastructure build-up is significantly easier. In addition, if you’re an arms manufacturer, focusing on production in these settlements while staying close enough to transport the loot and butchered materials from the larger settlements would be a massive cost savings. After all, teleportation costs fluctuate based off distance. Of course, none of that actually helps with figuring out how to make them vote for us.

Dismissing that thought for now, I dig into the Miscellaneous section. After all, even if I somehow manage to get all the major players to agree to what I want, we’ll still need help. That, or take over more settlements.

Unfortunately, after an hour of fruitless research, I realize a simple truth. I don’t understand Galactic politics or factions well enough. Names and species, clans, corporations, and kingdoms, they’re just words. Even with Kim feeding me the Galactic equivalent of Wikipedia, there’s only so much that I can grasp in a short period of time. Not that it stops me from trying, but even my stubbornness has a limit. Once I acknowledge that fact, I consider my options. I need help. The question is where I’m getting it.

Firstly, there’s Lana and Miller, both of whom I guess have a better idea of this kind of politics. Or at least, Lana would theoretically since Miller’s likely running around killing things - or organizing people to kill things as the Army Commander for the States. Then again from the little I gathered from Lana during our conversation indicated that she has been focused on keeping the settlements together. While she probably has some knowledge, some probably isn’t enough. Katherine probably has the same issue as Lana, a too tight focus on our own settlements and a lack of greater understanding of the Galactic world. That removes all the humans who might be useful unless someone has taken up a new hobby since. Which, I’ll admit, isn’t entirely impossible.

Next up would be the Galactics. There’s obviously Labashi and Capstan. As a mercenary and adventurer respectively, both of them would likely have a rough idea about the Galactic political ecosystem. Unfortunately, from what I recall, Capstan actively attempts to stay below the radar. And Labashi probably would charge me for any information I could access. As for the third option, well… Never mind.

“What would it cost to upgrade you with a Galactic political subroutine and the knowledge?” I ask Kim as a thought crosses my mind.

“…”

“Kim?”

“ASSESSING.”

Interesting. Considering Kim’s an AI—one that literally runs much of the background processes and day-to-day of all my settlements—the pause seems to be somewhat long. There’s no logical reason for it to take the AI this long.

“A TIER III POLITICAL SUBROUTINE UPGRADE WOULD COST EIGHTY-SEVEN THOUSAND CREDITS. PLEASE NOTE THAT SUCH AN UPGRADE WOULD ONLY BE VIABLE TO BE RUN ON CURRENT SETTLEMENT RESOURCES. AN UPGRADE ON YOUR NEURAL LINK OF ONE HUNDRED NINETY-SEVEN THOUSAND CREDITS WOULD BE REQUIRED TO HOST MSYELF AND THE SUBROUTINE.

“ADDITIONALLY, ANOTHER FOUR HUNDRED FORTY THOUSAND CREDITS WOULD BE REQUIRED TO ACQUIRE THE NECESSARY INFORMATION LIBRARIES. A FURTHER RECOMMENDED FOURTEEN THOUSAND CREDITS PER THIRTY-FOUR POINT THREE DAYS SHOULD BE DEDICATED TO NEWS AND POLITICAL FEEDS TO ENSURE THE LIBRARY STAYS CURRENT.”

I wince, doing the math quickly. That’s a lot of money. Credits. I’ve got a ton right now, but it’s still more than I’d like to spend. As I hesitate, another notification flickers up on my screen.

“LORD GRAXAN ROXLEY HAS SENT A MESSAGE REQUESTING YOUR PRESENCE AT THE FIRST AVAILABLE OPPORTUNITY.”

Right. And that’s the other Galactic I was very carefully not thinking about. Unfortunately, outside of some of the acquaintances I had—including a rather loquacious Galactic down in the States—I can’t imagine anyone else who can provide a better overview of Galactic politics. But as always, Roxley comes with his own bag of problems.

“Ali.”

“Yeah, boy-o?”

“Ah. You’re back.” I grin, thankful that he’s done with the Shop. You never know how long the damn Spirit is going to take haggling. But come to think of it, with the time differential in the Shop, it’s not that surprising he’s back. “Do me a favor. Buy Kim the political upgrades and knowledge he needs. Once that’s done, I need both of you to get together and review the voting information. I want to know who’s working with who, who we can potentially turn, and who we can make a deal with. If you need to, get Lana involved.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Shopping. Then I’ve got a date with Roxley.”

“Ooooh….”

“Not that kind,” I send the last thought back rather heatedly.

I just get a mental chuckle, which makes me grit my teeth. As I stand, getting ready to go to the Shop myself, I notice a rather heated discussion in the viewscreen focused on Katherine’s meeting. A quick thought has the volume increase.

“I understand. Ms. Weingard, but—” Katherine says placatingly, only to be cut off again.

“But nothing. It’s been five years now and our children are amok, acting like little barbarians. We’ve been promised a proper education system for our taxes and we’ve seen nothing!” Weingard snarls, slapping a wrinkled hand on the table.

I frown and double-check her Level, noting she’s only a Level 31 Baker. No real danger to Katherine. Well, physically at least. Unless she accepts a baked treat. Or goes into a gingerbread house.

“That is an exaggeration. The children are being taught in a secure environment using the System tools, many of which have been designed to encourage learning in both areas of individual strength and weaknesses of the child,” Katherine rebuts calmly.

“Blue screens and homework that no one but an AI sees. And the class sizes are outrageous. Fifty children per teacher. How are they expected to learn anything?” Weingard snaps. “When I was a teacher—”

“We are struggling to find more teachers, it’s true. I’d be happy to include you in the roster if you wish,” Katherine slides in. I detect the slightest twitch of her lips when Weingard flinches. “But the teachers are only part of the teaching apparatus. The children are all coached directly by the AI teaching assistants during classroom time. When they are undertaking physical classes and activities, we have a significantly smaller ratio and expect to have one teacher to ten students by the end of this year.”

“Let’s talk about that. They’re being taught to kill,” Weingard snaps. “How can you condone that?”

“Self-defense is only one of the many physical activity classes. And only for the older children,” Katherine says frostily. “Physical education for younger children is focused on other, less directly dangerous activities such as sprints, gymnastics, and dodge ball.”

Weingard snarls, ready to rebut, when the older man beside her places a hand on her shoulder. She calms almost immediately.

The older Indian man speaks. “We understand that you are doing the best you can, but our organization is concerned at the nature of the schooling being provided.”

“Oh?” Katherine says.

“For example, there are content concerns. One of our members’ sons came back from class, discussing and showing pictures of the various injuries that poisons may incur. It was very disturbing for the parent,” the gentleman says.

“That seems a particularly useful piece of knowledge in this world,” the portly auburn-haired man next to Katherine butts in. A quick query shows that Cory Gentile is the bureaucrat in charge of this entire program.

“At six? They should be studying their alphabet at that age!” Weingard snaps.

“The child in question was given access to this knowledge during his free play time for completing his language studies,” Cory says.

“Still, we have heard your concerns. We will undertake a review of the current open curriculum for younger children. Now, I’d like to speak about the early experiments with the apprenticeship program. It is, we believe, a significant success at providing skills to children, and early indications shows that graduates have a higher number and stronger Class variants after completing the program,” Katherine says, cutting in and getting the meeting back on track.

I lower the volume now that the likelihood of violence has dropped. Well, that was interesting. I vaguely knew that we’d set up a mass schooling system where we provided food and a secure environment, but I’d never dug into it while I was here, allowing others to run the situation. And it seems since then, it’s been expanded. Still, I’d have thought they’d have found more teachers by now.

The answer that Kim provides makes me chuckle wryly. We did find more help—but the vast majority of them have been dedicated to where our highest children population numbers are—those five years and younger. Between natural biological inclinations and the System’s ability to promote pregnancies, we’ve seen a giant population boom. Right now, the settlement is straining to keep these overpowered, System-assisted children in check. I tap my lips, considering what to do, when I get a slight beep of a new notification.

“LORD ROXLEY IS REQUESTING AN ETA.”

I grunt, glaring at the notification before dismissing it and my earlier thoughts. Right. I have a job to do and so do these people. As much as I’d love to get involved in sorting out an incipient problem, it’s neither my area of expertise nor where I can contribute the most. In the end, I’m a failed ex-computer programmer who’s very good at kicking ass in this new world. The big questions are best left to the professionals.

Chapter 6

For the first time in years, I find myself back in the Shop. For a moment, I get a sense of déjà vu as I look around the bright yellow interior, the fox-like attendant coming up to me with a wide smile.

“Redeemer! It’s a pleasure to see you once again,” Foxy says. “I have a room prepared for you, if you’ll follow me.”

“Of course.” I let myself be guided without protest, curious to see what he’s got ready for me. A part of me is wary that he’s looking to exploit my newfound wealth, though another part notes that Foxy hasn’t tried to pull a fast one since the first time. Still… “I need a refill of my original loadout. But let’s upgrade it all.”

“Of course. I understand your Personal Assault Vehicle has suffered significant damage? Do you wish to repair or replace it?” Foxy says, hands clasped.

After hesitating, I say, “Neither for now.”

As much as I’d love to, Sabre’s usefulness in its current form has long since passed. I’d get more bang for my buck if I picked up a normal bike. Heck, I could probably borrow a vehicle from the Settlement’s fleet if necessary. While I might be able to have them upgrade and fix Sabre from the settlement funds, I’m actually not sure if that’s viable with the way the Credit rules are set up. And if it is, I have a sneaking suspicion Sabre would no longer be mine. No. I’m probably better visiting Kamloops and dropping it off with the Artisans there to see what they can do with the mangled remains of my PAV. Worse case, it’ll get them a few Levels and Skills while they work on it. Best case, I might actually get Sabre back better than ever.

“Ah, before I forget. This was left in our care on the off-chance you might visit us,” Fox says and flicks his hand. In it is a small, shiny bracelet.

I stare at it, confused for a moment before recollection hits me. “Talk about déjà vu.”

I take the bracelet and slap it on my arm. A moment later, I get a notification that my Quantum State Manipulator has come online and is available for use. I chuckle, recalling how useful this little gadget was when I first started out. The ability to semi-shift to another dimension let me sneak, fight, and kill creatures well above my Level. These days though, nearly all the settlements have Quantum Locks of one form or another, making the gadget a lot less useful. Hell, I even met a few monsters in the Forbidden Zone that had the very same ability.

“Do you require anything further from me, Redeemer?” Foxy asks, and I nod.

“You have contacts with Enchanters and other Artisans able to layer spells, no?” I say, getting a nod back. I pull a dozen throwing knives from my storage.

Foxy inclines his head while miming taking the knives. At my nod, he picks up one and studies the small, dark red and black throwing knife I crudely shaped from a Level 140 monster’s tooth.

Toothy Throwing Knives

Handcrafted badly through the use of improper and inadequate crafting tools, these throwing knives come from the rare drop of a Level 140 Awakened Beast.

Base Damage: 180

“Amazing material. The craftsmanship is sub-standard but there is sufficient material to reshape it I believe. We can certainly reach out to our contacts,” Foxy stares at me for a moment. “For such material, I would be loath to have anyone but a Master craftsman undertake the enchantment. However…”

“They’re expensive. How much?”

When Foxy offers the quote, I almost choke. It’d wipe out the majority of my recent windfall.

“And the enchantment…?”

“Many Master craftsman are… hmmm… artistes of the highest order. They will not guarantee the type of enchantment till they see the material and item they are to work on and inspiration has struck.” When my eyes narrow, he continues placatingly. “But many powerful, famed weapons have resulted from such expenditure. At the least, I am certain they will add a Return enchantment to these.”

I nod slowly, pondering my options. These weapons served me well in that other place and are my first—and only—attempt at creating my own tools. I always promised myself to upgrade them if I could, and here, I have a chance. I just have to get over the fact that I’ll be beggaring myself again. Well, relatively speaking—especially if you add in my other upcoming expenditures.

“Do it.” I sigh, handing over the other knives and pulling out a couple of larger, foot-length knives of the same material. “Now, I’m going to need some new clothing, better armor—perhaps something with a nanoweave and self-repairing function—and additional Skills and Spells. I’m thinking…”

Foxy nods, dark eyes glinting with barely hidden avarice as I list the Skills and Spells I want. Foxy only interrupts me occasionally to make a suggestion when he considers my choice sub-optimal. A part of me wonders if I should have brought Ali for the haggling, but decide that I can let the Spirit loose later if it seems I’m getting too raw a deal.

An hour later, I’m alone in the private room, slowly coming down from the repeated mental and spiritual injections of information. It seems picking up Advanced Class Skills—the highest Level Skills I can get that aren’t part of my own Class Skill tree—is a bit more wearing than purchasing Basic Skills. If it weren’t for my frankly outrageous Willpower and Intelligence attributes, I’d probably have to take these integrations slower. Though that does raise the question of why I could integrate previous purchases of Advanced Skills from my Class so well. Perhaps it was due to the fact they were my own Class—did the System somehow imprint and prep the body for those Skills? More questions that I have no answers for. At least, not yet.

Dismissing the thought, I go through the slew of notifications that have been waiting for me since I started this process.

Analyze (Level 2)

Allows user to scan individuals, monsters, and System-registered objects to gather information registered with the System. Detail and level of accuracy of information is dependent on Level and any Skills or Spells in conflict with the ability. Reduces Mana regeneration by 10 permanently.

Truth be told, this Skill is unnecessary so long as Ali is around. But as experience has proven, my Spirit will not always be around—especially now that he can materialize and is liable to getting banished. As smart as he is, Ali’s not much a fighter and has a bad tendency to get distracted in the middle of particularly intense battles.

Harden (Level 2)

This Skill reinforces targeted defenses and actively weakens incoming attacks to reduce their penetrating power. A staple Skill of the Turtle Knights of Kiumma, the Harden Skill has frustrated opponents for millennia.

Effect: Reduces penetrative effects of attacks by 30% on targeted defense.

Cost: 3 Mana per second

Quantum Lock (Level 3)

A staple Skill of the M453-X Mecani-assistants, Quantum Lock blocks stealth attacks and decreases the tactical options of their enemies. While active, the Quantum Lock of the Mecani-assistants excites quantum strings in the affected area for all individuals and Skills.

Effect: All teleportation, portal, and dimensional Skills and Spells are disrupted while Quantum Lock is in effect. Forceable use of Skills and Spells while Skill is in effect will result in (Used Skill Mana Cost * 4) health in damage. Users may pay a variable amount of additional Mana when activating the Skill to decrease effect of Quantum Lock and decrease damage taken.

Requirements: 200 Willpower, 200 Intelligence

Area of Effect: 100 meter radius around user

Cost: 250 + 50 Mana per Minute

Elastic Skin (Level 3)

Elastic Skin is a permanent alteration, allowing the user to receive and absorb a small portion of damage. Damage taken reduced by 7% with 7% of damage absorbed converted to Mana. Mana Regeneration reduced by 15 permanently.

Elastic Skin is probably the most expensive of the Skills I purchased as it’s an exclusive Skill from another Class—the Burrowers. It’s also really expensive in terms of my Mana Regeneration, but the combination of damage reduction and Mana replacement is useful. Most other Skills I browsed were either pure direct damage reductions or had minor benefits in other areas. Like Stoneskin, which makes you slightly more impervious to fire and has a higher damage reduction against abrasive type effects. At 7% of 7%, the actual amount of damage absorbed and converted to Mana is, like, point five percent of the damage taken, which is rather pitiful. But it’s better than nothing.

Overall, the entire shopping spree’s focus on Skills was to shore up some of my major weaknesses and make me harder to kill. While I still feel I don’t do enough damage, I figure being harder to kill means that I have a longer period of time to really put on the hurt. It does mean that I’m losing eighty points of Mana Regeneration per minute from all these Skills, but since I haven’t spent my free attributes yet, that’s an easy fix. I split two-thirds of my ninety-eight free points between Intelligence and Wisdom, increasing both to new highs.

I also picked up a few spells, some of which I’d call utility spells—like Earth Shape, Mend, Speak to Chlorophyll, Oxygenate, and Chill—on the off-chance that I ever get abandoned in the middle of nowhere again. Others are variations of my existing spells, like Ice Blast—an almost word-for-word equivalent for Inferno Strike. While I’m not a huge fan of spells because of the length of time and focus they require for casting, my higher Intelligence and Willpower means that I can do both and fight with minimal issues. Still, I much prefer instant-cast Skills.

For all that, I did pick up a few interesting new spells, spells that I desperately wish I’d had before.

Create Water

Pulls water from the elemental plane of water. Water is pure and the highest form of water available. Conjures 1 liter of water. Cooldown: 1 minute

Cost: 50 Mana

Scry

Allows caster to view a location up to 1.7 kilometers away. Range may be extended through use of additional Mana. Caster will be stationary during this period. It is recommended caster focuses on the scry unless caster has a high level of Intelligence and Perception so as to avoid accidents. Scry may be blocked by equivalent or higher tier spells and Skills. Individuals with high perception in region of Scry may be alerted that the Skill is in use. Cooldown: 1 hour.

Cost: 25 Mana per minute.

Scrying Ward

Blocks scrying spells and their equivalent within 5 meters of caster. Higher level spells may not be blocked, but caster may be alerted about scrying attempts. Cooldown: 10 minutes

Cost: 50 Mana per minute

Improved Invisibility

Hides target’s System information, aura, scent, and visual appearance. Effectiveness of spell is dependent upon Intelligence of caster and any Skills or Spells in conflict with the target.

Cost: 100 + 50 Mana per minute

Improved Mana Cage

While physically weaker than other elemental-based capture spells, Mana Cage has the advantage of being able to restrict all creatures, including semi-solid Spirits, conjured elementals, shadow beasts, and Skill users. Cooldown: 1 minute

Cost: 200 Mana + 75 Mana per minute

Improved Flight

(Fly birdie, fly! - Ali) This spell allows the user to defy gravity, using controlled bursts of Mana to combat gravity and allow the user to fly in even the most challenging of situations. The improved version of this spell allows flight even in zero gravity situations and a higher level of maneuverability. Cooldown: 1 minute

Cost: 250 Mana + 100 Mana per minute

I also picked up two mobility spells, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever have use of them. While Haste as a spell is useful, it’s also costly in terms of Mana. And my own speed is significant already. Still, on the off-chance I fight another speedster, being able to keep up would be useful. And Improved Flight, well… it’s flight. While I’m not one of those people who dreamed about flying, there’s still some appeal there. At the very least, I can repeat what I did with the Field Boss without having someone Portal me in.

Overall, much of what I purchased patches holes in my defense and gives me a wider range of options—mostly when I’m not in combat. In combat, having a few extra spells that specifically suit the monsters I’m fighting is theoretically useful. Yet I know from experience that I’ll probably end up relying on a few tried-and-true Skills and spells. As a more famous Lee once said, don’t fear the man who has practiced a thousand kicks; fear the man who has practiced a single kick a thousand times.

My thoughts are broken by a knock on the door. At my invitation, Foxy walks in and lays out my more mundane purchases. I admit, I jump at the new clothing, almost chomping at the bit to get changed. I hadn’t realized how much I missed new, undamaged clothing till Kim mentioned it. Even if I had stored a bunch of extra stuff in my Altered Space just because I could, I’d long ago used up all my supplies on the damn planet I’d been exiled to.

Once all my purchases are laid out on the ever-expanding table, Foxy bows to me slightly, smiling. “Is there anything else?”

“No. I’ll probably return once I’m done here. Pleasure seeing you again,” I say.

Foxy returns my farewells. I watch the alien walk out, mentally chuckling at the thought that I’ve yet to get his name. Then again, he’s never offered it.

Clothing first. I take the simple expedience of sending my clothing into my inventory. A simple use of Cleanse gets me clean again, then I get dressed. The armored jumpsuit goes on first, a skintight covering that provides ballistic and energy protection without hindering my movement. This particular suit alters with a subtle thought, shifting its simple grey coloring to a more sleek black with silver highlights. I take a moment to pull up its stats.

Ares Platinum Class Tier II Armored Jumpsuit

Ares’s signature Platinum Class line of armored daily wear combines the company’s latest technological advancement in nanotech fiber design and the pinnacle work of an Advanced Craftsman’s Skill to provide unrivalled protection for the discerning Adventurer.

Effect: +218 Defense, +14% Resistance to Kinetic and Energy Attacks. +19% Resistance against Temperature changes. Self-Cleanse, Self-Mend, Autofit Enchantments also included.

Cost: 89,399 Credits

I’ll admit, I’m slightly amused that Ali translated the term to jumpsuit. But otherwise, it’s worth every Credit I paid. The additional defense and additional comfort is particularly important, though the increased resistances are a nice addition. Sadly, they don’t stack with my own innate resistances, so they’re less useful. Even then, I store the second jumpsuit in my inventory, just in case this one gets destroyed.

On top of the jumpsuit, I slide on the armored jacket that looks like a slightly less bulky version of a motorcycle jacket. While not as expensive, due to its bulk, it adds nearly as much defense. The nano-enhanced retractable helmet comes next, bringing a smile of relief. I’ve missed having easy access to the visual, auditory, and olfactory tech the helmet provides. I adjust my neural link immediately, connecting with the helmet and feeling the light click as data feeds into my mind directly. I reach deeper, touching my Tech Link Skill, and remove my connection to Sabre. The action feels like tearing off a foot-long scab in my mind. Another thought has the Tech Link attach itself to my helmet, making my connection even clearer.

Once that’s done, I dump the additional clothing, including some cheaper, less apocalypse ready formal clothing, into my inventory and go over the other purchases. A beam rifle and pistol start out the arsenal clustered before me. On top of that is more projectile weaponry, including a modified assault rifle with a grenade launcher attachment, the necessary ammunition in various color-coded magazines, and a smaller pistol of the same type. All of the above are higher-end, Gold Class Tier II weaponry of course, which makes them System-registered and somewhat more powerful than a mass-manufactured weapon of the same sort.

Once I’ve belted on the beam pistol and placed the remainder long-range weaponry away, I pick up the pair of high-end steel knives. I didn’t bother buying anything too expensive here, knowing I’ll get my enchanted weaponry back. That, and if I ever really need to cut anything, my soulbound sword is on hand. I don’t even have to ever worry about it breaking, which is all kinds of useful. The number of times it shattered on that planet… with a gesture, the sword appears in my hand, lightly resting in my palm as I analyze it again.

Tier II Sword (Soulbound Personal Weapon of an Erethran Paladin)

Base Damage: 307

Durability: N/A (Personal Weapon)

Special Abilities: +20 Mana Damage, Blade Strike

That’s a really nice bump up in base damage, probably from the fact that I increased my Class Level. Still Tier II though, which is annoying, but I guess that’s fair enough. I dismiss the sword and focus on the other tools I bought.

First up, the batches of grenades and mines. Most are cheap, though I’ve picked up a few higher-Tiered and crafted explosives. These are, for the most part, useful for adding confusion and uncertainty to battles but little else. I’m hesitant to invest too greatly in this area—as consumables, they’re expensive to purchase if used in large quantities. And the kinds of monsters I’m going to fight are unlikely to find most of these explosives that distracting. So while the pile is huge, relatively speaking, they’re cheap.

Once that’s done, it’s just the usual series of tools like tents, bedrolls, rope, lights, and potions. Lots and lots of Mana and Healing potions. Most of it gets stored in my Altered Space, a part of me wondering if I should increase its size again. But really, what are the chances I’ll be abandoned on a planet again?

“Yes?” Foxy says, walking in.

“Nothing…” I cough, moving my hand from the piece of wood I was knocking on.

“Of course.” Foxy’s eyes show the slightest twinkle of amusement.

I watch the door close before I open my Status Screen, curious to review my data one last time.

Status Screen

Name

John Lee

Class

Erethran Paladin

Race

Human (Male)

Level

15

Titles

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

Health

3070

Stamina

3070

Mana

2710

Mana Regeneration

225 (+5) / minute

Attributes

Strength

180

Agility

275

Constitution

307

Perception

127

Intelligence

275

Willpower

300

Charisma

78

Luck

48

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

Analyze*

2

Harden*

2

Quantum Lock*

3

Elastic Skin*

3

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

Ice Blast

Icestorm

Improved Invisibility

Improved Mana Cage

Improved Flight

Haste

Huge. I consider how to trim it down, what to adjust in terms of the points. I still have thirty-two free attributes, but right now, I’m not entirely sure where they’d go. Or what I need. I need more time in this Level, fighting against those who can challenge me, before I can tell.

With that thought, I select the exit option and feel the world fade away as I’m thrown back into “normal” reality.

“WELCOME BACK. ABOUT LORD ROXLEY’S REQUEST…”

The notification from Kim is the first thing I notice when I port back from the Shop, making me snarl slightly. “Are you upgraded?”

“YES.”

“Then get to work with Ali. I’ll want a report when you’re done,” I say, then decide I’ve been avoiding answering the damn AI and Roxley long enough. “Tell him I’ll visit him soon.”

“SOON?”

“Soon. This evening,” I say.

“INFORMED.”

I growl, stomping away. I make it halfway out of the office before Lana catches me, a slight smile on her face.

“Problem?” Lana says.

“Nothing major.” I draw a deep breath. Fine. Maybe I’m a little annoyed at being pushed to talk to a man I haven’t seen in ages. And whose motives I’ve never really felt I understood.

“Good. Because I’ve got one for you,” Lana says and falls into step with me. I frown at the redhead, a sign that she seems to take as an indication that it’s time to continue. “Word has started to get out that you’re back.”

“Didn’t think I was trying to hide it.”

“No, but some issues we’ve managed to delay have bubbled up. Like your ownership of these settlements,” Lana says.

“Oh?” I tilt my head and stop us from walking further, leaving us hanging in the middle of the brownstone, glass-filled hallway. Thankfully, this floor is mostly empty. “Who and what do they want to change it to?”

Lana looks mildly uncomfortable before she answers my question. “Well, there are a few groups. Some lead by the older Vancouver council, and other established groups. We’ve mostly been having them argue about how to solve ownership to head them off, but with your return, they’re more focused on removing you from power.”

“And…?”

“And putting me in as an interim replacement.” When Lana notes I’m not even angry, she raises an eyebrow. “John?”

“It’s fine. Actually somewhat expected,” I say, smiling slightly. “I was surprised you left me in charge for so long and didn’t just remove me.”

“The fact that you were alive was a useful deterrent,” Lana says. “Your reputation, your Titles, made a lot of things easier. And so long as the Cores weren’t freed, we knew you were alive. I knew.”

I notice the slight hitch in her voice and swear internally. A part of me hates the fact that this happened, that what we started was abruptly shattered. Perhaps if we’d had more time… what is, is. Sometimes though, you can’t help but ask what if?

“So you, eh?” Do I trust Lana? If you’d asked me four years ago, I’d have undoubtedly said yes. Now… now I have to think about it. But the fact stands that I’ve left her in charge of the settlements, a job she’s done without complaint. Her personality, her knowledge, and frankly, the fact that she doesn’t mind working with people makes her a better choice than me. But… “Let me think about it.”

Truth is, I’m not sure why I’m holding on to the settlements now. It’s not as if she can’t hold them herself. She has a ton of powerful helpers, people she can rely on. Perhaps it’s the hoarder in me, the skinflint who would rather eat instant noodles than go out for dinner, but giving away something of mine is hard.

“Of course.” Lana places a hand on my arm, looking at me seriously. “I wasn’t asking for the settlements. I just wanted you to know.”

“I know.” I sigh. “It’s…”

“You’re looking ahead to the vote. And what happens at the Galactic Council,” Lana says, drawing her own conclusions. In truth, I told her that years ago. Now, I’m not so sure. She bites her lower lip, hesitating until I raise an eyebrow. “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“This. All this,” Lana says, gesturing all around. “You’re barely on Earth for ten minutes before you’re throwing yourself at a Field Boss and clearing a dungeon. Then the moment you’re done, you’re in here, working through the past four years of history, trying to work out how to wrangle a seat onto the Galactic Council. What drives you?”

“This…” I look away for a moment, taking in the passersby outside. Going in and out of the library-cum-center of governance for the city, moving to the other office buildings as they undertake their lives. It’s so busy, such a far cry from before. “There’s a concept in Taoism called wu wei. It translates—badly—as action-non-action. It’s about doing, without thinking, because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Like charging an army?” Lana says, and out of the corner of my eyes, I catch her lips quirking up slightly.

“If it’s the right thing to do at the time, yes,” I say, refusing to turn away from the window. I’m not sure how to explain it without sounding like a fool.

We have so little choice in our lives. We have no choice when we’re born. Where. To whom. We don't get to choose so many of the unexpected joys or tragedies that fall upon us, the pain inflicted or the love gifted. Fate’s will or Lady Luck’s kiss showers upon our heads with equal impartiality. That makes the choices we have, the few and the daily, all the more important. To stand or kneel, to fight or feel. To believe in something, no matter how foolish, how naive and mistaken.

“Doing this? It feels right,” I say. “It’s no worse a decision than any others. Or better. It’s just mine.”

Lana stares at me for a time, brows drawn downward as she studies my form. I turn toward her eventually.

The redhead shakes her head. “I don’t envy you that. What you’re doing, it’s not a fight I’d choose.”

I blink, surprised at the confession. “You never mentioned that before.”

“It wasn’t important back then. But, John, we’re not all willing to throw ourselves at dragons. Some of us, we’re content to take on the ogres. To give those who come after us the tools to fight the dragons.”

I chuckle at the metaphor that could only happen in this time. “Fair enough. Dragon killing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway.”

“Dragon…” Lana’s eyes narrow, but I refuse to expound on it. In the end, she switches topics. “I’ve got to go. I have to catch up with Katherine. Kelowna’s asking about adding a third Guild building again. And Kamloops wants you to swing by their Armory. There’s a young lady who wants to see you…” Lana says teasingly.

I roll my eyes at her tone and her attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “I’ve got another meeting tonight. And there’s a city dungeon with my name on it.” I roll my shoulders and raise a hand, pulling on my Mana to form a Portal. “Got to test out some new Skills.”

“Have fun!” Lana calls as I step through that oval of darkness and I’m tossed into nothingness.

Chapter 7

Exiting the Portal steps away from the edge of the City Dungeon, I’m greeted by a new sight—a grey concrete wall. I frown, tilting my head as I note it’s right on the edge of where the dungeon starts.

“Kim, I’m looking at a giant wall here,” I mutter softly.

“IT WAS BUILT AFTER THE DEATHS OF A NUMBER OF UNDER-LEVELED TEENAGERS ENTERED WITHOUT PROPER PREPARATION.”

Right. I rub my chin, shrugging, and jump over the ten-foot wall to land inside the dungeon. Immediately, I get a notification. The first part of the notification is the same as before I left, though the Level of the dungeon has grown again. The addendum, on the other hand, is new.

You have entered the University of British Columbia City Dungeon

This dungeon is designated for Levels 10-80. Please check with the local Dungeon Keeper and their attendants for map of zone Levels and further information.

Addendum: All visitors should report to the Dungeon Keeper or an attendant. Failure to do so will result in censure, including loss of dungeon privileges and Credit fines—UBC DK

Oh right. I’d meant to appoint one of those before I left. Obviously Lana or Katherine actually got around to it in the interim. I frown, realizing that I have no clue how to get hold of this Dungeon Keeper or his assistants, nor do I see any obvious methods for me to contact them. Then I shrug and walk in. Whatever. Rules are for the peons.

Rather than waste my time dealing with low Level monsters, I switch on my Aura. While not as outright intimidating as others, it is more than sufficient to scare away low Level monsters that would have been wary of me anyway. It’s a bright search light, a forest fire that says danger to these creatures, leaving me with the ability to stroll deeper along the forest-lined broken asphalt to reach the higher Level zones. Memories from our only time here leads me past the golf course—a Level 30 zone with insane mutated gophers, squirrels, and a creature that shoots elemental water balls—and residences and toward the actual faculty buildings.

“Kim, need a map of the zones.”

“UPLOADED.”

“Thanks.”

A moment later, I’ve got the map uploaded to my own minimap, overlaying the information. I’m kind of missing Ali’s better updates, but what I have is more than sufficient. And even though I’m strolling, with my upgraded attributes, my stroll is the equivalent of an all-out sprint for your average pre-System person.

When I finally make it to the first campus, the zones creep up to a decent Level for experimentation. The first monster I encounter is a tiny Gribble with long fangs, sharp fur, and giant eyes. It could almost be considered cute if you squinted really hard. And ignored the poisonous cloud enveloping the creature. It charges me, moving so quickly that it looks as if it’s teleporting with each little hop it makes.

Gribble (Level 41 Monster)

HP: 381/381

MP: 833/833

Conditions: Enraged, Poisonous, Damage Resistance

I draw my beam pistol, firing from the hip and catching the creature mid-leap. While attacking it when it stops might seem to be the best option, if you can perceive, track, and hit the damn creature when it’s in the air, it can’t dodge. The first shot catches the Gribble’s fur on fire and tears muscles and skin. A second shot hits it as the creature lands with a stumble, while the third finishes off the monster as it recovers and attempts to run. I holster the pistol with a frown and make a note that the pistol takes a moment to recharge. Rate of fire was significantly lower than my ability to pull the trigger. Which, really, isn’t surprising. In fact, that’s part of the reason why melee weapons are favored by some—as attributes continue to creep up, high-tech weapons can’t keep up. A PAV like Sabre could actually be more a hindrance to movement than a help.

I stop briefly to loot the corpse before going deeper, wary of other attacks. A few minutes later, I stumble across the reason why I’m not being swarmed more—a trio of adventurers fighting in a triangular formation against a horde of Gribbles. All three of the adventurers are clad in adventurer chic, armored jumpsuits with a series of webbing for easy access injectors and smaller melee weapons. In fact, they look like one of any hundred groups I’ve seen—thin, muscled, and young. Quietly and switching off my Aura, I watch the trio fight, automatically finding a dark corner under a concrete overhang to watch.

For the most part, the group is rather boring—a DNA Mage, a Shieldsman using a sword and shield, and a Hoplite wielding a spear. Of course, they have their array of Skills to use, blasting out shock waves of energy, beams, and fire as well as cutting and thrusting. They have their own flare though. The spear-wielder has a flexible tail that wields a blasting rod, and the mage seems to be literally sucking the blood from the corpses around them to power his spells. All around the trio, a small cyclone swirls, pulling the poisonous cloud into the air above the trio and dispersing it. A quick glance at the trio’s Status shows that they’re poisoned but not dangerously so.

After verifying that the team is able to handle the Gribbles without my help, I begin the slow process of sneaking around the group. Kill stealing is considered bad form, and even if I don’t want to, these Gribbles are enraged and liable to attack me if they sense me. While moving, I note how the monkey man twitches and glances in my direction at one point, though he doesn’t stop wielding his spear. I’m nearly across the square outside the still-sealed faculty of dentistry when a roar attracts all our attention. As if the roar is a signal, all the Gribbles fall back.

The trio don’t take advantage of the Gribbles’ retreat, their attention—and mine—drawn to the much larger threat padding forward. Eyes glowing red with swirls of purple within, fur fluffed to make the monster look larger than the van-size form it already has, the Queen Gribble howls again, its voice pitching higher and higher till even my ears are bleeding, the roar continuing without stop. The trio are worse off, weapons discarded as they clutch their ears. The Shieldsman is on his knees in pain, his afro sticking out around the helmet and his fingers.

Queen Gribble (Level 65 Alpha)

HP: 1411/1411

MP: 980/980

Conditions: Enraged, Poisonous, Damage Resistance, Pack Aura

“Arse…”

The Gribbles that have fallen back rush the trio, intent on finishing the group while they’re incapacitated. Even as I swear, a part of me is focusing and reaching outward to the System and inward to my own body as I adjust my hearing. If higher attributes are good, why would a higher Perception make you more vulnerable to sensory-based attacks? It’d make no sense—and they don’t. In fact, one of the upgrades in a higher Perception attribute is an unseen resistance to such attacks. But because it’s unseen and hidden, it’s not used by most to the maximum effect. After being forced to fight with nothing but my frozen attributes for four years, I’m no longer part of the majority. With the barest of thoughts, I touch on the System and push my defenses to the maximum. The innate resistance of my Advanced Class already shunts much of the damage away; this makes the remaining damage less incapacitating.

89 Sonic Damage Taken

Auditory perception checks receive a -11 modifier for 9 seconds

Stun Resisted

A spell flows from my hands, a paired casting as I push up Mud Walls around the trio. A second later, the Mud Walls surge outward, catching the Gribbles. Earth Shape follows soon after as the ground under the trio sinks downward, providing additional defense.

The Queen Gribble turns toward me as its howl comes to an end. It snarls, shaking its body, and suddenly its body exudes a purple gas that flows not outward unrestricted, but in a dark tide toward me like a wave. I kick off the ground, jumping backward as I toss an Ice Blast downward at the Queen. The spell freezes chunks of the monster’s fur, and even the gas in its path freezes, solidifying the poison. Polar Zone erupts from my hands. But I’m focusing too much on casting, my mind split along the numerous lines of the spell, and I end up ignoring the smaller Gribbles. I pay for it when one slams into my newly landed form and bites my thigh.

I frown, the Gribble’s sharp teeth punching through the nanoweave and injecting my leg with a numbing poison, even as its airborne toxin attempts to close down my throat. A stab and twist with a knife pries the Gribble off my body even as I jump again, purposely exploding the ground beneath my jump to add to the Gribbles’ confusion as I fly through the air.

You are Poisoned!

-2 Health per second for 11 seconds

Polar Zone seems to be working, slowing down not just the Queen Gribble but also the flow of her poisonous gas. Even so, the flow of the gas seems to follow my new trajectory even as more of it pours from the Queen’s body as well as all around its body, the less dense amount moving toward the slowly recovering group.

“So damn weird.” I grin then test out my next spell.

Mana Cage snaps into place around the Queen Gribble, trapping the creature in its glowing bands. The Queen Gribble snarls and snaps, slamming its body against the bars, but they hold, keeping the Queen inside, if not its poisonous gas. Damn, maybe I should have bought Mana Prison—but the Mana expenditure on that improved imprisonment spell was significantly higher.

Absently, I conjure my sword and cut a pair of leaping Gribbles apart before I land. A hacking from the direction of the trio of Adventurers reminds me that I’m not fighting by myself and I stop playing around. I can test my Spells further when I’m alone again. Rather than waste Mana, I raise my hand and conjure a series of Mana Missiles at the Queen. The Mana Missiles are an upgrade of my old mainstay Mana Dart, just improved to do more damage. A series of a half dozen Mana Missiles, each over a foot long and spinning, drill into the Queen’s body. Without the ability to dodge, the Queen soon becomes a heavily bleeding pincushion, one that nearly manages to tear apart my Mana Cage before it expires. Once the Queen expires, cleaning up the rest of the Gribbles is simple with the help of the trio of recovered Adventurers.

“Thank you,” the Swordsman says to me as he discards the health injector.

I frown slightly at the littering but keep my mouth shut for now. Still, my presence annoys the monkey Hoplite who snarls at me.

“What are you doing here? We’re the only party scheduled for today,” monkey man snarls as he levels his spear toward me.

“You’re welcome,” I reply, nodding to sword and shield wielder and ignoring monkey man.

At my blatant disinterest in him, monkey man steps forward but is restrained by the DNA Mage who shakes his head. On closer inspection, I realize the mage is actually probably older than me—in his forties at least. I absently consider recommending adding a few more points in Charisma and probably a good dye job to deal with my thinning grey hair.

“I’m going to report you to the Dungeon Keeper,” growls monkey man.

I just wave goodbye to the group, stopping only long enough to loot and deposit the Queen in my Altered Space before heading to my final objective—the Medical Faculty.

“Hey, that’s a Level 70 zone,” a new voice calls behind me—the older man’s, I guess.

I wave in acknowledgement without turning around. A part of me wonders about how the faculty of medicine’s unsealed but dentistry isn’t. Then again, I guess more people fear dentists than doctors, possibly because we’ve all suffered under the hands of a too-rough dental hygienist.

Stepping into the building, I scan the insides for threats while dismissing the notification informing me of the increased zone Level. A skittering noise alerts me to the incoming monsters long before I see them. A half dozen humanoids come out, most dressed in hospital gowns but a few in scrubs and casual wear, their skin grey and pallid. They alternately lope forward on all fours, fingernails unusually long and black, and walk, their backs hunched slightly. Even their eyes are rheumy and yellow, showing little signs of intelligence. A quick scan shows that they’re nearly all the same.

Diseased Revenant (Level 71)

HP: 3488/3488

MP: 0/0

Conditions: Diseased, Undead, Burst

My nose wrinkles slightly at the sight, but the humanoid, undead creatures are the perfect training dummies. And dummies the Revenants are. They launch themselves at me with little finesse but a ton of aggression, only savage cunning guiding their tactical decisions, like attempts at flanking me. What they lack in brains, they make up in an inability to feel damage, an unrelenting aggression that’d make an angry hornet look like a lovely butterfly, an innately high resistance to damage, and prodigious health.

Firestorms are my first attempt at dealing with them, the upgraded Fireball spell forming a whirlpool of flames that expands from my body. System-reinforced walls burn, creaking in agony as the temperature spikes. Wooden counters turn to cinders within seconds and the Revenants cook, flesh crisping and splitting to showcase tight muscles and leaking, evaporating fluids. Yet they don’t stop.

A twist of my hands and a Mud Wall flows from the floor in a wave, smashing the monsters backward, but the pair that split off to flank me attack now. Two quick steps intercept one, a hand clasping its arm and body to twist and toss it against the second, before an Ice Beam strikes the pair. Their bodies twitch as they attempt to free themselves, frozen flesh and limbs shattering under their exertions and the over-heated air. Even my own health is dropping, if only briefly before my regeneration replaces it, from the remaining heat.

I grin as I hear, in the darkness, additional movement as the Revenants’ howls echo down the hallways, drawing others of their kind to them. Good. I’m going to have fun with this.

Hours later, I finally jump out of the top floor of the building, landing lightly before ripping the embedded claw of the Revenant’s Zone Boss out of my arm. I grimace as blood flows out, dripping to the ground even as the wound visibly closes, while a dark greyness spreads around the flesh. Diseased. Such a nice status effect—reduces an ever-increasing amount of attributes before it peaks and the attributes begin to recover. While the disease statuses don’t stack among the normal Revenants, the Boss and Elites carry around another form of disease which is a lot longer lasting and which even my increased Constitution and Resistances can’t remove within minutes.

Revenant Alpha Claw (Level 79)

Crafting material. May be used by an experienced crafter to make equipment.

“I see you cleared the zone. In record time too. That deserves a drink.”

The voice of a thin, weedy man breaks my train of thought. I glance over as the long-haired man in a waist coat tosses a bottle to me. I catch the bottle, chuckling as I read the label—good old Apocalypse Ale, brewed up in cold Whitehorse.

Rodolfo Stone, the University of British Columbia Dungeon Keeper, Wayward Son (Level 21 Dark Son)

HP: 480/480

MP: 1610/1610

Conditions: All-Seeing Eye, Dungeon Link, Simulacrum (x2)

“Thanks.” I take a sip and raise an eyebrow as the rich, dark ale takes a cudgel to my taste buds, reminding me what good alcohol is like. Obviously the Brewers have Leveled up again.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Lee,” Rodolfo said. “Now I got to tell you you’re suspended for the next two weeks. Can’t have you skipping the line, you know?”

“Really?” I say. “You do know who I am, yes?”

“You’re the boss man. But the rules are the rules, dude.”

I chuckle but don’t push the matter. There’s something more interesting to pursue. “You know how long it took me to clear the building?”

“Yes.” Rodolfo flicks one hand, and a moment later, I get a notification with a series of numbers on it. Mana and stamina consumed, the ratio and percentage left at any time, the number of times I zeroed out either—none—number of monsters killed, the average, longest, and fastest amount of time to kill each monster, the spells and weapons I used, and more. It’s a huge list of data, information which runs on and on, about every aspect of my fight. “I also got the rest of your trip, but this is the good stuff.”

“You have all this information on hand?” I say, somewhat startled as I read through it all. “Do you give this to everyone?”

“Nah, just those who pay.” Rodolfo gestures again and a bottle of Apocalypse Ale appears in his hand. “Got to buy the Platinum package. But you know, you’re the boss man, so I figured you’d want to see this. Pretty cool build there.”

“Thanks. What else do you offer?”

“I give advice on gaps, but you’ve got a pretty solid build. Skill use, training options within the dungeon to cover areas of weakness. The usual, you know.”

“What do you think my build is?” I ask. It’s not as if I haven’t given it much thought. Even if I hate the way it makes our life feel like a game, the idea of proactively determining what you want to be isn’t wrong.

“Endurance build. You ain’t a duelist or adventurer. What you got there is meant for a grind and pound. Not enough damage to do a one-hit kill against an equal Level opponent, but your Stamina didn’t even dip into the low sixties. You’re like a giant energizer bunny of Stamina. If anything, I’d add more Willpower or Intelligence to up your Mana and regen rates.” Rodolfo waves the bottle of Apocalypse Ale between sentences to punctuate his words. “You also need to smooth out your spell chaining too.”

“I just bought them,” I say, offering up the tidbit of information.

Rodolfo nods. “Gotcha. Well, I’d still work on chaining them. But unless you’re going for a utility build, I’d stick to what you know. Been watching some of the arena fights they’ve started piping in, and at your Level, a fraction of a second hesitation gets you dead.”

“Arena fights?” I drain the bottle in my hand.

When I look around for somewhere to put it, Rodolfo snorts. “Toss it. The dungeon will clean it. And I got no one coming through this section before it’s done its job.” He suits action to words with his own bottle. “The Galactics got a real Roman thing, you know? It’s their hockey.”

“Right,” I say and make a note to look into these arena fights. It’d be good to see what the Master Class fighters are like at my Level. “One last thing then. Mikito mentioned you get some of the other Master Classers grinding here sometimes?”

“The champions? Yeah, I get them to test my new zones before I open them up.”

“Good. I’ll want their stats,” I say.

“No can do, boss man,” Rodolfo says. “Client privilege.”

“It’s my dungeon,” I say softly, the friendliness gone from my voice as I meet his gaze. I trigger Champion’s Aura too, but Rodolfo doesn’t even blink. I guess one of those Status effects of his is blocking the Aura.

“And if you fire me and take the job, you can get it,” Rodolfo says. “But you got to fire me first.”

“You sure you want to do this?” I say, the threat ringing out.

“Sure as donuts have holes.”

“Okay.” I raise my hand, tapping the air.

Rodolfo shrugs and pulls another bottle from his storage before sipping on it.

A moment later, I sigh. “Damn. Portal’s not opening.”

“Can’t Portal out from here. Or in. You should know better,” Rodolfo says with a sniff. “I’d bounce you out, but I’m about to be fired and I’m not feeling particularly charitable.”

I shake my head. “I’m not firing you over saying no to me. I just wanted to make sure you were the kind of person who deserved to know that kind of information.”

“And you thought threatening was a good way of doing that?” Rodolfo snorts, a look of pity on his face as he turns on his heels and walks off.

“Hey, about the port…,” I call to the dungeon keeper.

“Walk!”

I guess I deserve that. Still, as I turn toward the exit and run, I chuckle. Looks like Lana and Katherine did a good job with Rodolfo. Even if he’s a touch obstinate.

As I run, I clear up the less important notifications I’ve received.

Congratulations! You have reached Level 16 as an Erethran Paladin

Attributes automatically allocated. You have 39 additional free attributes and 5 Class Skill points to assign.

I’m a little surprised to see how fast I Leveled. With a mental command, the experience notification messages are pulled up and I scan through them. Let’s see—a bonus for being the first to clear the Level 70 zone. Bonus experience for doing it alone. A long list of things which I’ve killed, including the zone boss. All those notifications I skip over. And of course, the bonus experience from fighting with the champions and clearing the dungeon, including the first clear bonus there. Oh, and I’ve been steadily accumulating a small amount of experience every day for actually doing my job as a settlement owner. It’s discounted since I don’t have the Classes for it, but since it’s based off total population, it’s still a significant boost.

Huh.

The experience gain from being a settlement owner is a bit of a realization. While I’m sure I used to get it, with the lower population, settlement level, and my lack of involvement, it has been seriously discounted. Still, the experience is evil. But also sensible, since otherwise royalty, which is never allowed to get too down and dirty in dungeons, would never be able to Level up.

After a brief consideration, I decide that with five free Class Skill points, I’ll be able to get a point in everything if I desire, so I dump another point into Penetration. Always good to hit a little harder.

Chapter 8

Whitehorse. Such a small city—Town now—in the middle of nowhere. Even before all this, it didn’t even have thirty thousand people in it. These days, between those we saved and the new immigrants, it’s nearly back to its former peak. Even if the vast majority aren’t humans. Truinnar in formal tunic-and-pants suits whose color reflects their dark skin, Yerrick with their horns and fur, the Kapre towering over everyone, nude but for their bark-like skin, cyborg-like creatures, and monsters straight out of fantasy books all mix on the rune-covered streets, Mana lights providing illumination on this cloud-covered night. Everyone and everything’s armed, moving in small groups as they get ready for another day of adventuring.

Walking down Main Street, I look at the towering silver building which looks so out of place among the historic, frontier town architecture of Whitehorse’s Main Street. Adventurers stream in and out of the tower, heading upstairs to the Shop, checking on newly designated Quests, and complaining to the various administrative personnel. I ignore them all, slipping past the groups to head toward the back of the building, once again noting how weirdly distorted space is here. Ceilings too high, corridors too wide, and the building somehow longer and wider than its outside appearance would indicate.

At the bank, the single elevator slides open to allow Ali and myself to step within. It moves smoothly, the acceleration barely perceptible as it takes us to my appointment. I grunt, feet tapping as I adjust the hem of my jacket.

“Chill, boy-o. It’s just a date,” Ali says with a grin.

“It’s a meeting. Not a date,” I growl softly, and the olive-skinned Spirit chuckles.

“Wasn’t talking about you. Figured I’d chat with Roxley’s AI, see if she’s up to anything…” Ali waggles his eyebrows.

“You know, I’ve always wondered. She’s an AI, you’re a Spirit. I mean, how do you guys…”

“Bang?”

“Talk.”

“With great care.”

Before I can press Ali for a real answer, the doors slide open. The room within is all too familiar, the long metallic table and pair of chairs, the plates and dishes set for the first, cold course. In the corner, Roxley’s personal chef hovers, its spherical body ready to roll—and roll out—the next course.

“Damn him,” I mutter to myself.

“For feeding you?” Roxley says in reply while walking out from his office. The dark elf smiles at me, gesturing to the table. “I recall you enjoyed dinners here before. I would be remiss if I didn’t feed a guest.”

I stare at the Truinnar, his wide shoulders and trim waist set off by the black-and-silver tunic in his house colors, the well-cut pair of pants outlining every inch of his muscular legs. The smile that is always on his lips but sometimes relaxes a little when Roxley actually finds something funny for real. The now-electric blue-hair contrasts with his white eyebrows where a piercing gaze interrogates me and my body. As I stare at the Truinnar, Ali elbows me in the side to get my attention.

Immediately after, the Spirit steps forward and bows slightly. “I shall take my leave then?”

Even as he does so, I see a new notification.

Mental Influence Resisted

Now get your act together, boy-o

“Dinner is fine. I’m sure it’s lovely as always.” I nod to Roxley’s chef, taking a seat while Roxley sits across me in his own, and I bury my irritation. I do need to eat, the food is good, and I know the man well enough to know that this is part payment for what I’ll ask of him. “But I do want to know what you so urgently needed to speak to me about.”

“Of course. But first, a toast.” Roxley raises the wine glass, a pale yellow drink with flakes of squirming dark matter within. “To your Master Class.”

“Thanks.” I sip on the drink. It’s sweet and fruity and smooth and the next thing I know, it’s gone. Too fast for me to remember to have scanned it, which is a damn shame.

“Jumma summer wine. Summers last nine years, but the only time the vegetation can fruit is within the first and last month,” Roxley says.

“Thank you,” I say. “And congratulations on your new title. Count now, is it?”

“Yes.” Roxley stares at me, presumably looking for the anger or resentment I showed so many years ago. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, more time to consider what he did. And while I still don’t agree, I no longer hold a grudge against him for his choices. Perhaps he sees that, for his lips relax, his smile growing more natural. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did—Roxley has always been more perceptive than I am. “We’ve managed to stabilize many of the dungeons around the city and the territory. Our results have made the Duchess extremely happy. Now, we should eat before the food grows too cold.”

I take Roxley’s diversion with grace, digging in. I recall that the Truinnar hate speaking about business at the dinner table. Even the little he’s done shows that Roxley’s gone native a bit, adapting to our customs slightly. Dinner, as always, is a gourmet’s wet dream. While the vast majority of food served is nothing that I recognize, years under the System has acclimatized most people to not asking where and what kind of beast their latest meal is coming from. At least, not if they don’t have an iron stomach. Armed with that knowledge, it’s a lot easier to just enjoy the wide range of tastes that dance across one’s tongue.

We avoid sensitive topics, catching up on how things have gone for many of my acquaintances, the Town as a whole, and some of my remaining business interests as well. Of note, the local brewing company has expanded again, taking up nearly an entire block as it attempts to meet Galactic demand. In addition, Dawson opened up a year ago, the city retaken by a trio of ambitious adventuring teams. Now, the Guild the teams are a part of have their headquarters in the newly reclaimed city and are raking in Credits as their members tackle the high-Level zones all around the newly rebuilt Town. If there’s one sour note, it’s that there’s not a single living human in that town from before. It is very much a Galactic settlement. Way I hear it, even Ingrid hasn’t visited.

Time passes swiftly and I find myself laughing and relaxing, the conversation flowing as easily as the drink. It’s only after dinner, after we’ve made our way to Roxley’s study, that the tone and air of the meeting changes. Sitting across from each other in plush chairs that conform to our bodies, we stare across the intervening space, unwilling to break the moment of camaraderie. But business must be spoken and so I push ahead.

“You wanted to speak with me.” I say.

“Yes. Your new Class complicates matters,” Roxley says as he leans back. “But you’ve never not complicated your life, have you, John?”

“Don’t know about that,” I say with a shrug. “Just did what I wanted. But why’s it a problem?”

“You understand what your Class entails? What it means for the Erethrans?” Before I can answer, he continues. “You are the only active Paladin in the entire Empire. You stand outside of all command structures, reporting only to their ruler.”

Huh. I guess he doesn’t actually know the details of my Class. I do note how Roxley says “active,” but I keep my own face smooth.

“You may, by tradition and right of arms, judge and execute any and all in their Empire with the exception of the queen. You are, furthermore, considered a representative of their beliefs and their will.”

“I know,” I say. “And…?”

“And you are human. With no political or social backing. Your authority carries only the weight of tradition behind it and what you, yourself, are able to bring to bear. You have authority but no power,” Roxley says and leans forward. “And as such, you are a pawn. One that many will eye in hope of using against the Erethrans.”

“They may try. But if this is what you wanted to speak of, you could have saved your breath. I knew what I was getting into.”

“Interesting.” Roxley leans back, steepling his fingers. He peers at me over the aqua-colored nails. “I was lead to believe you were not given much time to consider your Class Quest and its implications.”

“I wasn’t,” I say. No use hiding what is common knowledge. None of what happened to me is hard to ascertain.

“Then tell me, John, what do you intend to do?”

“The usual,” I say, smiling slightly. “Whatever needs to be done. Which, at this point, is getting Earth its Galactic seat.”

Roxley lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “Still focused on your impossible quests, are you John? And so, my invitation was accepted.”

“Yes. You understand Galactic politics better than I do, and probably have a much clearer idea of how all of it is affecting Earth. From what Kim’s analyzed, about six percent of the unclaimed City Cores will be very difficult to claim on a permanent basis in the short term. For the remainder, it will take no longer than four months for them to be claimed. If I’m not reading that wrong, we’re going to run out of areas to contest very, very soon. We either need to make enough friends, fast, or we’re going to have to start kicking ass.”

“Which would be foolish,” Roxley says sternly.

“Because we can’t win a long-term fight?” I nod. “No. We can’t. Four years ago, we might have been able to bulrush the powers out. Hit them hard enough and fast enough and take over enough City Cores that we could use the rights and planetary powers to mitigate their retaliation. Now, there are too many Master Class fighters on this world to make it viable even if we wanted to try it.

“At least not alone.”

Roxley stares at me and shakes his head. “I cannot commit my Duchess to such an action. Not without her prior approval. Not even for you.”

“But you can advise me on the political environment, can’t you?”

“I can.” Roxley waves and a screen appears, hovering between the two of us. It’s a simple pie chart next to the map of the world. I frown at the map then realize why it’s bothering me—it’s not the usual one we see but a different one that rebalances the landmasses to their actual sizes. The Peter’s map. And yeah, it’s my higher Intelligence supplying stupid facts dredged up from a West Wing episode. “This is how I would break the votes you seek up.”

41.2% Human-Controlled Settlement Votes

8.8% Galactic Edge

17.6% Irvina

8.6% The Fist

2.14% Artisans

14.7% Miscellaneous powers

6.96% Unclaimed Settlement Areas

“Huh,” I say and stare at the more detailed breakdown of the “miscellaneous powers.”

“The Galactic Council is made up of four main and two smaller factions. Now, while what I speak of is in generalities, it is wise to remember that these are generalities. Not all races and individuals will ‘fit’ within these categories. Still, it’s a useful shorthand.” When I nod, Roxley continues. “The first major faction is the Galactic Edge—a group dedicated to expansion in System-registered planets for additional resources. You’ll find many of the more recent additions to the System part of this faction, including races like mine. The Galactic Edge is the third largest faction in terms of seats on the Council.

“The Irvina—named after the main solar system and planet from which the Council operates from—is the largest faction by number of seats. They consist of a limited number of races, however, as they consist of races introduced to the System the longest. They include the Movana, a few active dragons, and your dwarves. Obviously, their close allies are all included in the displayed number.”

I frown at his words, trying to recall the image of the Galactic System. “But don’t the Truinnar have as much space as the Movana?”

“Space, yes. But like your world, we face the issue of votes on many of our planets. We either have not covered sufficient landmass, in many cases, or are forced to deal with interlopers or split votes. My people are not very altruistic, and as such, politics can be dangerous on our home planets,” Roxley says.

“Right. So geographic space and number of worlds aren’t the same as number of seats,” I say softly.

As the Movana are older, they have more seats because they’ve managed to concentrate power without giving up their settlements. It makes sense then that the older races manage to get away with it too—even if older planets become uninhabitable due to the flood of Mana, they have the existing resources to flood a new city with people and Credits and establish their dominance. And it’s not as if the all-out fights happen as much on non-Dungeon-World-designated planets.

“The third faction has a long, cumbersome name which will not translate well. Most know them as the Fist. They are made up of individuals and particularly warlike species and kingdoms, like the Hakarta and your Erethran Empire. Their goal is to push for further exploration into the Restricted Zone near the Mana Spring, designate more Dungeon Worlds, and increase support for combat Classers in general,” Roxley says.

“Were they the ones pushing for our conversion?” I ask softly, my eyes narrowing in anger.

“Yes. As were the Irvina,” Roxley says. “You must understand, each new Dungeon World relieves the level of Mana buildup in every other world, slowing down the process.”

“I know. So why don’t you just open a dozen more?” Having been stuck on a Restricted Planet for the last four years, I can understand why they’d prefer to slow down Mana buildup. Dealing with the ever-increasing monster hordes at ever-increasing Levels is an impossible task for a society. It’s one thing when your average monster is Level 20 and increases to Level 30. It’s another when same increase is to 130.

“System limitations and politics,” Roxley says. “Like most things, opening a Dungeon World requires a significant amount of resources and also specific circumstances. It’s only possible to designate a Dungeon World when a planet is first introduced to the System. The world should also be pre-inhabited, preferably by a sentient species, to handle the increased Mana load which will be directed to the planet. Failed integration will result not only in the loss of the world to the System but also a loss of all the resources dedicated to its creation.

“And, of course, the entire Council must contribute to its establishment. As the greatest benefits of the Dungeon World are seen by those closest to it, it can be politically difficult to justify such an expenditure, even if it is best for all parties.”

I grunt, making a mental note. Those two factions are on my shit list.

“The last major faction is the Artisans. They’re the second largest, with numbers close to the Irvina, though their individual power is somewhat limited by their lack of Combat Class Masters and higher. The Artisans do receive significant support from various corporations, so it would be foolish to underestimate their strength,” Roxley warns me. “As for the two minor factions, the Technocrats seek to explore the limits of pre-System technology—your ‘normal’ physics and chemistry—within and outside the bounds of the System. They’re a small group but have a pair of members on the Inner Council, giving them a greater level of prestige than they would have otherwise. And lastly, the Systemers are not an official faction, but their religious belief in the System is widespread among the Galactic System.”

I nod slightly. The Technocrats are a known group for me—many of the writers I read in my continuous quest for knowledge about the System come from the group. It seems the Venn diagram of Technocrats and Questors has significant overlap. They’re also known to be one of the few groups who would voluntarily leave the radius of the System, venturing into the deep unknown to explore, learn about non-System technology from before the System took over, and test older technology. Overall, they’re considered kooks of the highest order—but dangerous and useful kooks.

“As you can see, the Artisans have little presence on Earth. Of those here, they’re not truly organized, their presence more based on individual desires rather than a group effort. Of course, the Fist has significant presence, with Ares and a few other Corporations and the Hakarta Legion owning the major cores,” Roxley says, gesturing to the hanging notification.

“This makes a lot more sense.” I tap my lips, doing the math in my head. “But we need eighty percent of the vote, and that means we’ll need the vast majority of the people on the board to vote for us. Including getting the majority of those you labeled independents, assuming I’m missing out on either the Truinnar or the Movana.”

“Yes. It is possible, I believe, for you to gain either of the pair’s backing for your endeavor, but not both.”

“Figures,” I mutter, shaking my head. The way the numbers read, I’m not even sure there’s a way to make this work. Getting so many independents would mean speaking with a large number of disparate organizations. “Why are they indies anyway? Doesn’t it make sense to join together with the factions?”

“While there are four major factions, there are numerous other, smaller groups. Some are allied with the major factions on major topics, but not on others. Others have too-contrasting beliefs or just are not interested in joining the larger factional politics on a regular basis,” Roxley says, smiling slightly. “Some prefer to be independent, no matter the cost.”

“Ali, make a note to have Kim filter for objectionable moral and cultural practices, will you? If we’re going to have to stomp on some ankles to get our votes, might as well make it count.”

“You know, boy-o, Kim’s upgraded enough for you to tell him yourself. At least up here,” Ali sends back.

I grunt, sending the note directly to the AI. I get a confirmation, though I send a reminder for Ali to double-check the list. While Kim’s smart, he is still a program and I’m not entirely sure his views on morality line up with mine. For that matter, neither do Ali’s at times, but he’s been with me long enough to understand my intentions.

“Knowing all this, you still intend to continue your quest?” Roxley says, leaning forward as he places his hands on the armchair rests.

I find myself nodding even as I twirl my now-empty glass. Roxley shuts his mouth as the drone servant comes in to pour refreshments for both of us. Afterward, it leaves, gliding away silently on its anti-gravity jets.

“And you wish for our help?”

“If your Duchess will offer it. I’m assuming there are others I’ll need to speak to within your kingdom?” I say. While they might all be the same race and kingdom, the Truinnar are rivals to some extent, peers fighting one another.

“May I make a suggestion?” At my nod, Roxley continues. “If my liege agrees to your request, it might be best to allow her—or specifically, myself as her representative—to speak with the others on Earth. Your time is limited and your understanding of the politics limited.”

And of course, it also means we’ll end up owing a much larger boon to the Duchess. But the offer is tempting. Roxley’s right. We are short on time here, if I want to meet the deadline of the next vote.

“Very well. If she’ll agree to help us,” I say.

“Good.” Roxley taps his lips. “You will find it hard to gain support from most without some concessions. I won’t ask what you are willing to give up, but it is something you must consider. The Fist, for example, would be raring to have you in their camp. It is not an all-too-disagreeable notion for the Edge, as we vote together quite often.”

“But doing so will put us at odds with the Artisans,” I say, running my fingers along the edge of the wine glass. “And they’re the second most powerful group who might be willing to work with us. Certainly one of the most economically beneficial for humans.”

“Yes,” Roxley says. “Though the Edge has some additional benefits. For example, have you considered the benefits of colonization?”

I blink at Roxley. I’m about to protest about the sheer number of hurdles involved in a proper colonization effort before I realize the System wipes out so many of these problems. Hell, given enough Credits and Mana, it’s possible to terraform a planet in days instead of decades. Never mind the fact that our bodies can handle a much, much wider variety of environments with minor issues under the System.

“Touché,” I say.

“One last matter, John,” Roxley says. “Have you even confirmed your support among your race?”

“No. I needed a better understanding of the situation first,” I say before shrugging. “They’re next on my list.”

“Then you’ll understand why a minimum prerequisite for us to take any action officially would be for you to gain their agreement?” Roxley says, and I find myself nodding. Roxley smiles before he waves his hand toward the notifications, pulling up the independent list. “Then in the meantime, there are a few groups I feel you might be able to work on.”

I glance at Roxley’s list, making mental notes of the names as the Truinnar speaks. Still, while he talks, I make note of how he says what he says. Because while I know he is unlikely to lie, where and at whom he points us is suspect. For all the friendliness he and I might share, the Truinnar always has more than one goal.

Even so, I listen. Because any information is better than nothing. And I’ve got about four years’ worth of local and thousands of years of Galactic history to learn.

Chapter 9

When I walk out of the building later that evening—much later—I find the city still humming with activity. Between tech, Skills, and spells, there’s little to stop an ambitious adventuring team from working through the night. In fact, most nighttime quests pay significantly better than daytime quests, no matter the type. Part of the reason is that nocturnal monsters are generally tougher, but it’s the loss and inconvenience which probably keeps nocturnal-based quests better paying.

As I stare at the scurrying adventurers, I touch my lips absently. Sometimes, I really wish I was like these others. Able to focus on simple tasks, simple quests. Go out, collect a dozen claws. Kill a few monsters, clear a couple of dungeons. Escort a bioorganic researcher who wants to check out how the Mana overflow has affected our ecosystem. Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated.

Not like planet-wide politics. Not like running a settlement. Or a handsome dark elf kissing you on the lips as you leave, then shutting the door on you.

Simple.

“So, Paladin, are you done?” Ayuri says.

I blink, tilting my head to see the champion standing beside me. I frown, prodding my memory and realizing she’s been there for minutes now. A slight shiver runs through me at the thought that I’d let someone this dangerous so close to me. But there are no indications of danger from her, none of the subtle signals one learns to pick up on to indicate killing intent. In the end, she was just standing there.

“For now.” I sigh and drop my hand. “Why are you here?”

“It was pointed out to me I was a little hasty,” Ayuri says, glaring backward at Unilo. The female Guard waves at me in greeting, slitted purple eyes dancing with ill-concealed humor. “Just because you have the Class means little.”

“I see,” I say, shifting slightly as I eye our surroundings.

Just over a score of people are out and about on the streets, most of them adventurers thankfully. Any collateral damage from Skill use is probably survivable. Blink Step down the road to the other side of the river will pull them out of danger too. So long as I head left after the Blink Step, away from the hospital, I should be able to pull the resulting battle away from most civilians. Of course, the Kapre live there, but they’ve got their own protections.

“Come.” Ayuri points at a gaping black Portal which offers no information about where we’re going next.

“You know, it’s been a long day already…”

Ayuri drops a hand on my shoulder and guides me to the Portal. Her strength is significantly higher than mine and continuous, as inexorable as tectonic plates shoving me forward. The Portal widens even further, allowing the two of us to walk through side-by-side. We’re followed by Unilo and Mayaya, who is looking as bored as ever.

“Plenty of use you were,” I send to Ali as he pops into existence over my shoulder just before I step into the Portal.

I could fight this, but my gut says that whatever their intentions, it doesn’t include putting a bullet in my head in front of a self-dug grave. The mental shrug I get back from Ali is insouciant enough to put my teeth on edge as the darkness takes me.

The other end of the Portal is in a small settlement, somewhere on the North American continent as we’re still on Earth and the sun still hasn’t risen. I look at the buildings, dismissing those with Galactic architecture and spending time staring at the 1960s brick-and-wood construction for clues. All of it is written in English, so Canada or North America. The air conditioning units makes me guess somewhere down south. Well, that and the lingering heat from the day. Of particular note though is the population striding around the town, many still dressed in their uniforms.

“Yours?” I ask Ayuri as she releases me. The happy nod she gives me makes me grunt, but I follow her passively down the street, heading for a newer Galactic building. “Don’t recall seeing the Erethran Empire on the list of settlement owners.”

“It’s because it’s not. It’s owned by Unilo directly,” Ayuri says.

When I look at Unilo, she smiles sunnily.

“We’re still waiting for the requisitioned Credits for the space,” Ayuri adds. “Since Unilo’s a d’Cha, she’s got the Credits to spend on this till my requisition comes through.”

Ali chuckles, floating alongside us in his pint-sized form. “Galactic bureaucracy. The same wherever you go.”

“Except the M453-Xs the Gnumma, the Vassalee, the—”

“Okay, okay, fine. Not universal,” Ali says grumpily and glares at Mayaya, who continues to ignore the Spirit.

I chuckle softly, letting the pair distract me as we walk into the building. Within, it’s surprisingly spacious and empty, hosting but four shimmering blue cells. Within one of those cells, a pair of Erethran grunts spar, one wielding a knife and the other what looks like brass knuckles. The pair are Basic Classes and not particularly skilled from what I can see.

“You going to put me in there to fight a bunch of your men?” I say, taking a guess at her intentions. I’m hoping it’s this option, because the other one is much more painful.

“Of course not. What would the challenge be there?” Ayuri says with a snort. “No, I’m going to fight you.”

Standing across from Ayuri in the middle of the reinforced fight ring, I feel my heartbeat slowly speeding up. All four shield walls have been allocated to our single cell, providing the ever-growing audience greater protection. Crouched slightly with my hands by my sides, I watch the purple-haired Erethran casually stretch across the ring.

“Rules?” I say to break the silence as Ayuri continues to ready herself.

“No leaving the cell,” Ayuri says. “Five taps, audible indication, or five percent remaining of your health is a loss. The building is tracking our health. There’ll be an auditory and visual cue to stop fighting.”

“Okay.”

I could protest, but truth be told, a part of me is looking forward to this. It’s been four years and a lot of experience since we met. Now, I’m curious to see what the gap is. Ayuri isn’t like me, having skipped an entire Class. She has over eighty Levels’ worth of attributes and Skills as an advantage and countless years of experience. In a straight duel like this, I have no realistic chance of winning. But still, I find myself grinning in anticipation even as I activate Mana Sight. Because this is going to be fun.

“On your signal, Unilo,” Ayuri says.

There’s a tense silence as Unilo stares between the two of us, a silence which grows as the seconds tick by without a signal. “Now.”

Ayuri reacts first, appearing behind me, but it’s a move I’ve anticipated. I’m already dropping and kicking backward even as I conjure a Soul Shield around my body. My attack connects as Ayuri refuses to dodge, bouncing off her Soul Shield. It’s only when I’m rolling away that I catch a glimpse of Ayuri’s soulbound weapon. The short, flame-bladed sword flicks downward, sending a Blade Strike that I barely dodge by continuing to roll. The shorter blade allows Ayuri to swing the blade back, sending another successful Blade Strike at me even as I recover. The single strike drains nearly half of my Soul Shield, making my eyes narrow. Christ, she’s put a ton of points into the attack Skill.

She blurs, charging me as I watch the streams of Mana collect and swirl around her body. Haste. A Basic Class Skill that speeds up her movement at the cost of a tremendous amount of Mana and Stamina while active. She crosses the distance between us in seconds and I find myself blocking the flurry of thrusts and cuts with my own sword.

Even as I fall back, I call forth my Thousand Swords Skill, adding the floating blades and complicating the space between us. Now, not only does she have to work around my initial attack, she also has to move around the flowing follow-up blades. Each block cuts off an area of attack, each additional blade reducing her angles of attack. Rather than avoid the angles though, Ayuri blocks and beats aside my floating weapons, forcefully opening up angles. The ring of blades, the shuffle of our steps, and the harsh grunts of exertion fill the room as we clash. Within seconds of our clash, I’ve been hit a half dozen times, leaving my Soul Shield with a sliver of health. It’s only when I have up the Haste spell that things begin to stabilize.

The champion twists her hand as we clash again, triggering a Skill and breaking my grip on my sword, disarming me. I block the next thrust with my left forearm, the last of my Soul Shield dying in a flare as the blade opens up my forearm. But the sacrifice pushes the blade away from my chest and gives me time to point and fire my beam pistol at her face. The attack flares as it impacts against her Soul Shield, but more importantly, it blinds her for a second to allow me to scramble backward.

“Your sword skills have improved,” Ayuri praises me with a grin. She tosses the wavy short blade from hand to hand as she stalks me around the ring, giving me time to replace my Soul Shield.

“You ready to get serious?” I say.

“You noticed?”

“Obviously.”

“Good. I’m coming then,” Ayuri says, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Even before her words end, she’s on me, Blink Stepping to cover the short distance.

I throw a reverse lunge, dropping to one knee with my back leg extended and catching her directly in her chest. Her Shield bursts, the momentum of her charge and Blink added to my own Skills and attack shattering her protection. But it doesn’t stop her. The champion uses the momentum of my attack to spin around, a hand trailing along the edge of my blade as her other hand conjures another sword. I retrieve my sword into my left hand to block her attack, but she twitches her original hand and tosses her short sword at me directly. Behind the attack comes another and another.

Within seconds, she’s pulling copies of her soulbound blade and throwing them at me, cutting through my blocks by sheer volume, each blade unerring. Under repeated assault, my Soul Shield fails again, the newly conjured blades breaking past my hasty defenses. Even as the first blade plunges into my shoulder, I trigger my Skill.

Blink Step.

Beneath me, Ayuri spins around then looks up, spotting my falling form. She smirks, already throwing knives to intercept me and the grenades I’ve thrown. Falling as I am, I can see when recognition catches up with instinct, just before her first blade pierces the first grenade.

A chaos grenade.

Fish explode from the grenade—barbed, slimy fish that rain down around us. Another grenade detonates, consuming her conjured blade and leaving a small hole in space. A third grenade lands by her feet and a horde of sizzling, molten fire elementals manifest. Ayuri lets out an involuntary yelp as she sinks, pushed deeper into the swarm as she blocks my falling attack. Already, I can see her Soul Shield flaring as the elementals eat into it.

“Chaos grenades?” Ayuri snarls, gripping my arm as I recover from the fall and blocked attack.

She twists and tosses me away, dodging my follow-up blades at the same time, her movements barely hindered by the elementals. I spin through the air and slam into the side of the cage. By the time I recover, she’s cast an Ice Storm, slaying the newly formed elementals and catching me in the back blast.

Even as I stagger, the Soul Shield reforming with a thought, Ayuri is stalking forward. With a thought, I trigger the mines I laid when I dropped, the expanding Tier II foam surprise only barely catching the fast-moving champion at the edges. Long enough for me to cast a Freezing Blade on my sword.

“Freezing Blade. Good choice.” With a shrug, Ayuri snaps the restricting foam. “But useless.”

I snort, ignoring her taunts as Ayuri darts forward more cautiously. Our blades clash once again, the ice creeping up along her hand with each attack. But as fast as they connect, the blades are dismissed, the freezing barely given time to act upon the champion. And what does appear on her hands seems to be dismissed by a swirl of Mana around her body. Another Skill—probably one that removes Status effects.

She shatters my defense in a few strikes, my Soul Shield failing once more. A Disarm opens up an avenue of attack, allowing Ayuri to snap an elbow strike at my temple. I stagger backward, a cut opening above my eye even as I try to move away from another flung blade. I twist, throwing a half-formed Blade Strike to push her away. I split my focus for a second, throwing Blade Strikes without care as I attempt to buy time to finish forming my spell. It works and Mud Walls forms, rushing upward ahead of me to block her view.

“You’re getting your ass kicked, boy-o,” Ali says, chortling.

“No shit. I barely have time to use my Skills.”

Through Ali’s viewpoint outside the ring, I can see Ayuri casually dodging my last Blade Strike before smirking at the Mud Walls. She raises a hand, forming a glowing ball of power in it—a charged Skill, it seems. I’m vaguely curious if it’s a Master or Basic Class attack, but mostly, I’m focusing on the flow of Mana as seen by Ali. It’s not as effective as viewing it directly, but it’s good enough.

When she releases the attack, I Blink Step, appearing behind Ayuri. Immediately, I cast Army of One, hammering her with everything I have. The blades send slashes of power into her back, blood erupting from her body as the attack tears through her Shield and defenses. The champion immediately twists and dodges some of the attacks. My Master Class Skill makes a difference here, making her numerous defensive Skills useless. Ayuri is sent spinning into the Mud Walls, her health plummeting as each attack shaves off a visible chunk. By the time the attack is over, the champion has lost half of her health and I’ve lost the element of surprise.

“That hurt,” Ayuri says, her bloody smile widening. “Now I’m really going to kick your ass.”

My head slams hard against the floor and I slide backward, slamming into the sparring ring’s force fields. The first two have dissipated from the concussive force of Ayuri’s last attack. The third shatters as I’m forced into it, piles of rubble building up around my sliding body and being turned to dust under the force. The last and strongest field holds though, leaving me bloody and shattered. The room is dyed red, a warning klaxon shattering the air as it marks the end of our sparring match.

For a moment, I focus and cast a Major Healing on myself, pushing through the pain. The spell is insufficient for the sheer amount of damage done to me, but it fixes the major problems, stemming blood loss from ruptured organs and open wounds. The force field drops, and more healing magic descends on my prone form.

“What… Skill?” I send the thought to Ali, barely coherent even as my body patches together.

Rather than answer me directly, Ali flashes me the Skill information as a reminder from the Champion Class information we purchased.

The Will of the People (Erethran Champion Class Skill)

Drawing upon the trust and respect earned by a champion, the user unleashes a single devastating attack to remove all threats to the Empire.

Effect: Attack form and damage done dependent upon user and the amount of Reputation the champion has developed in Erethra. Each 10 points of Erethran reputation deals an additional point of damage.

Cost: 1000 Mana

I snort slightly and regret it immediately, the motion making my chest ache as broken ribs grate upon one another. A single attack my ass. Ayuri formed a million and one separate, spinning decahedrons of blades with the Skill, each of which honed in on me when fired. And a hundred reputation points seems like nothing until you realize the damn Erethran Empire is a multi-system, multi-planet juggernaut. Even a mild level of fame for a champion makes this attack ridiculous. If Ayuri hadn’t purposely held back the vast majority of her attack, I’d be dead, even with my damage reduction and Spell resistances. As it stood, the final attack had actually increased my Mana by an appreciable amount.

As the spells rumble through me, I have a sudden urge to cough. Twisting over my side, I hack and cough, pain ripping through my body at each motion, but eventually, the misplaced, shattered bones and mashed tissue comes out. I stare at the bloody mess, my nose wrinkling as my sense of smell comes back, bringing with it the harsh scent of melted concrete and roasted flesh. A Cleanse fixes some of dirt and smell even as a last spell lands on me, leaving the longer-term healing pulses and my own regeneration to finish the job.

“Damn. You just keep ticking, don’t you?” Ayuri says as she strides up to my prone form. “Were you trying to get me to use my ultimate Skill?”

“Pretty much.” I peel myself off the floor, stare at the tattered remnants of my clothing, and chuckle suddenly.

“What?”

“Just a funny cultural realization.” With a shrug, I tear off the remainder of the armored jumpsuit as it is doing nothing for my modesty and get dressed in something new. None of the Erethrans even blink. Then again, considering how uncovered I was before, they had more than enough time to get over their shock.

“What did you learn?” Unilo asks, her head cocked to the side as she watches me. After a moment, she brightens. “Oh! You are speaking about your embarrassment of being nude! We are too.”

“You are?” I look at the shreds of my clothing as I pull on my new jumpsuit.

“Yes. But only among those of the same species.” Unilo makes a face. “Who’d care about what other species wear? It’s not as if you’re biologically compatible.”

“Unless you’re Truinnar or Movana or Dwarven or boy-o—”

“Not. Now.”

“Right,” I say out loud.

Unilo continues, oblivious. “It’d be like watching a cruppa and being—”

“Cruppa?”

“Domestic animal.” An image flashes up in front of me, a six-limbed, furred on the top and scaled on the bottom creature who is about knee height with a barbed tail. “Erethran equivalent of a dog.”

I flush slightly, glaring at Unilo, who continues to blather on without noticing the look I shoot her.

“Embarrassed. Or worse, aroused. We actually don’t condone that kind of perversion on Erethra, though I know on some of the other planets… well, it’s a bit more uncivilized.”

“Unilo.” Ayuri’s single word cuts off Unilo’s ramblings.

Ayuri gestures for the exit, and as I’m now presentable, I’m happy to comply. We stay silent as we push past the crowd, my head cocked to the side as I read lips and listen to the whispered Erethran-filled conversations all around me.

“You sure he’s a Paladin? I hear they’re even worse than champions—”

“Never saw anyone take more than a twentieth of the Will before. His damage reduction must be insane!”

“Well, he did have two-thirds of his health. His regeneration rates were ridiculous. And he kept on buying time with the Soul Shield.”

“You think the d’Quam are going to let him live?”

“He got her down a quarter health. Shit, I think I’m going to have to buy his profile from the Shop.”

“Krell’s nipples the Shop. I got a broker for that. Get you a real deal—”

Ayuri stays silent until we enter a new building and enter what I presume to be her office. It amuses me how, even with a mostly paperless society, Ayuri has managed to clutter her office with junk. I see knickknacks everywhere, from snow globes, lava lamps, a bagpipe, and numerous magnets to other, less identifiable Galactic souvenirs. And trophies. Lots of monster part trophies. As Ayuri slumps in her chair and puts her feet up on the table, I gingerly move aside the half-shattered skull of a particularly large Goblin.

“Hob,” Ayuri says, as if it’s an explanation. “I was trying to make a cup out of his head and well…”

“Cup?”

“Well, you humans have this interesting saying—”

“Hyperbole. It’s hyperbole!” I say, waving.

“Oh. Huh. That’d explain it,” Ayuri says. “Well. You passed. Barely.”

I nod slightly, my eyes narrowing. She didn’t need to drag me all the way here to tell me all this. In fact, she didn’t even need to bring me to this town. Any relatively empty zone would have done just as well. Except, of course, her objective had never been to test my combat ability.

“We’re done. You should go eat. Unilo, get him some chow,” Ayuri says and gestures for me to get up.

I blink, staring at Ayuri then back at Unilo. Oh. Right. “Grub?"

“No, we do not eat insects, but we could find some for you,” Unilo says as she leads me out of the office toward what I assume to be the officers’ mess.

It takes the rest of the walk to explain the misunderstanding. It takes another few minutes for me to find something to eat, and I’m not surprised when Unilo joins me. Or when Mayaya, who has been quietly shadowing us, drives away the few other patrons.

“The settlement vote,” I say after we have both dug into our food for a bit.

“It’s yours,” Unilo says, then cuts me off when I open my mouth to thank her. “On one condition.”

“Of course there’s a condition,” I say grumpily.

Ali, who’s hovering above Mayaya invisibly, rolls his eyes at me.

“It’s a simple one. Just a minor favor,” Unilo says.

“A favor.”

“A minor favor.”

“Some help here?” I ask Ali.

“Erethran nobles trade favors. Trivial, minor, major, blood, life, and family in order of importance. A minor favor is generally considered an action which does not significantly inconvenience or danger you. A single vote, an appropriately Leveled dungeon run.”

Unilo waits for me to answer, digging into the noodle-like substance before her with a weird utensil that adheres to the noodles with the barest touch. I bury my face in my food, barely tasting it even as my newly healed body craves the calories, while my thoughts spin. So. I’m paraded around, my Skills and Class shown off to a group of Erethran soldiers. Obviously the information about who and what I am is now public knowledge for the kingdom. And now, I’m being not so subtly forced to take a deal.

The problem with traps is that even if you recognize them, sometimes you have no choice but to spring them. Sometimes, the best way of dealing with a trap is to bull your way through it. And a trap that is known can sometimes be an opportunity.

“A minor favor. Only after a successful vote,” I say, laying down my own conditions.

“Sounds like an open-ended deal on your part,” Unilo says.

“Not entirely true. You’ll lose this settlement at some point, and I’ll lose my vote.”

Unilo’s lips twitch upward as she cocks her head. “Ah, couldn’t slip the time limit past you, could I? Well, okay. Deal then.”

I wait, and wait, and eventually frown.

“The food not to your liking?” Unilo asks as she finishes her dinner.

“There’s no System notification,” I say, frowning.

“For our deal? It’s not System-registered, no.”

“What’s to stop me from welching?”

Unilo’s eyes glaze over for a moment before she flashes me a smile. “Welching. What a nice word. And if I cannot trust a Paladin to keep his word, well, the Empire is in grave danger.”

For a moment, I sit there, somewhat disoriented by the statement. Is she assuming my Class forbids me from breaking deals? Or is there something in my Class that stops me from welching? Are there Classes like that? Or is this a cultural artifact? A belief that anyone who is a Paladin can’t break a deal? Or a deeper understanding of me?

I shush the inquisitive, almost panicky thoughts while another corner of my mind points out that I might need some rest. Getting beaten to a pulp can’t be healthy, no matter how many resistances I have.

“Fair enough,” I say with a sigh then look at Mayaya. “Mind giving me a ride home?”

Mayaya doesn’t answer directly, but the next thing I know, I’m falling through a Portal that opens up right beneath my feet, taking me and my chair with it.

Right. Don’t ask him for a favor again.

Chapter 10

After I recover from being so ignobly deposited back in Vancouver—and return the chair, hopefully directly on Mayaya—I spend the next few hours sleeping. Between the constant rush of the past couple of days, I’ve barely had time to catch my breath and it has been over twenty-four hours since I had time to rest. While my higher Constitution allows me to function quite, quite well with no sleep for days on end in normal conditions, normal is not what I’d call my last day. And so, by the time I get up, it’s nearly three in the afternoon.

Over the next few days, I spend my time studying. First, there’s the delayed meeting with Ali and Kim to receive their findings and research. While it’s significantly more detailed than what Roxley provided, the gist of it is familiar. It does, however, provide a few settlements we could target for objectionable actions if I’m so inclined. Sadly, just taking over the City Cores is insufficient. I need people to guard the core and make the settlement actually work. As experience has shown, leaving a City Core unguarded has a bad tendency to create city-wide System-created dungeons if given enough time.

Afterwards, I’ve got Lana and Katherine in large chunks, bothering me with questions and details about the settlement. I suffer through those discussions as best as I can, mostly because they at least provide me some context to the world. We tackle numerous issues, ranging from zoning and building applications to judicial rulings, all of which require more than knee-jerk decisions. It’s frightening how much power I have as a settlement owner, a minor feudal lord who rules by right of might. And so, I spend my time studying and learning, doing my best while I wait.

Because the next big step is talking with the champions, but due to their busy schedules, I’ve been forced to cool my heels for a few days till their “regular” meeting.

Their meeting time finally arrives, and I find myself porting with Mikito to Hong Kong, appearing on top of the Bank of China tower to survey the city. A quick glance at the notifications informs me the settlement has managed to develop into a full City, a remarkable achievement in the short timeframe. Especially considering only seven percent of their population survived. High population density and a high Mana density combined to create an explosive growth of monsters that trimmed their numbers in the first year. Even from my view, I can see the gaps where entire neighborhoods were razed, their buildings shattered by titanic monstrosities and the battles to subdue them.

“Welcome, Mr. Lee,” a voice calls to me in Cantonese, and I turn to meet the gaze of a tiny old man.

Grandmaster Chang Jing Yi, the Iron Gate of Hong Kong, Seventh Dragon of South China (Kung Fu Master Level 2)

HP: 4310/4310

MP: 1080/1080

Conditions: Iron Shirt, Iron Bones, Heaven-and-Earth connection

“Tai Tsifu Chang,” I greet the man in Cantonese while bowing slightly. “If you don’t mind, I don’t believe Mikito understands Cantonese?”

“Baka. Of course I do. I visit here often enough,” Mikito says, speaking up before Grandmaster Chang can say anything. “But you didn’t need to meet us yourself.”

“I wanted to meet the famous Redeemer of the Dead,” Grandmaster Chang says. “His recent exploits have been quite eye-catching.”

While Mikito and the Grandmaster speak, I bug Ali for an explanation. Especially for the place-specific titles.

“They’re reputation- and achievement-based titles. Available only if you manage to gain both the achievements and the reputation. Similar to Capstan’s First Fist. As for his Heaven-and-Earth connection, it’s a flowery translation for a unique awareness Skill.”

“You do me too much honor,” I say to Grandmaster Chang in response to his earlier comment. Huh. I wonder if that’s the right word—would face be better? Mien is more commonly used. But it’s not exactly the same. This is why I hate talking to old school or China Chinese. Being a damn banana, I’m always second-guessing myself. At least my higher Intelligence seems to have increased my versatility with the language. “My achievements are small compared to yours. I didn’t kill a water dragon with my bare hands in the early years.”

“It was a small one and I had help. A lot of it,” Grandmaster Chang says with a smile and gestures for us to follow him toward the fire exit.

“Still, I’d love to hear about it,” I say.

With a little more prompting, I manage to extract the story of the Grandmaster’s fight with the water dragon that had preyed on Hong Kong during the early part of the apocalypse. It’s quite a thrilling tale, and one that keeps me riveted until we reach the meeting room. At the door, the Grandmaster leaves us with a bow.

“How come he’s not part of the group? He’s got the Levels,” I say, gesturing to the Master Class Grandmaster’s retreating back.

“Not everyone who has the Levels is accepted. Or desires to tramp around the globe,” Jessica says as she fades into being right next to us.

Mikito starts slightly, a hand flexing as she begins and dismisses calling her weapon. As for myself, I smile at Jessica. It’s not as if my new Class Skill hadn’t helped me pick her out of the shadows a while ago.

“I thought you were a grouping of the most powerful on Earth?” I say with a frown.

“Not exactly,” Mikito says. “We’re the ones willing to join and have been accepted. A lot of settlement owners and others who might have the strength—like Grandmaster Chang—aren’t interested. Or available. Not all settlement owners are as hands-off as you are.”

“Ah. So you’re what? The spearhead? Or the figurehead?” I say.

Jessica laughs at my description, pearly white teeth flashing across dark skin before fading. “Yes. Come on, we’re the last.”

She pushes the two of us in, a hand on each of our backs. I follow the urgings of the Southern girl, glancing around to see that she is correct—everyone I know is here. And two others I’ve yet to meet.

“Bipasha, Graham, John Lee,” Jessica introduces the two newcomers for me while Mikito stays silent, eyeing the room. “Bipasha’s a Weaver and focuses on healing and restricting attacks during combat. She’s also the driving force behind BP Fabrics, one of the largest-growing clothing corporations on Earth.”

“If you ever want a custom-designed costume, do let me know,” Bipasha says, flashing me a smile.

Her long black hair, a slightly prominent nose on top of a large, inviting smile, and gorgeous brown eyes have me stopping for a second, reminding me that it’s been years since… well. Since. That she’s dressed in a stylish pink-and-cream Indian-inspired variation of the armored jumpsuit is a good reminder that not everything has to look the same. I’m suddenly not surprised that she’s managed to garner such a following—a successful businesswoman intelligent enough to use her non-Combat Class Skills to undertake missions at this Level and with enough Charisma to bowl over a blind man.

“Oy! And what am I? Chopped liver?” Graham Speight, the Level 40 Prop with the New Zealander accent, protests. The mid-thirties man is built like a brick shithouse with arms as big as my thighs and a glower that would intimidate a lesser man.

“Well, you are just a prop,” Jamal says, and groans explode from everyone.

Jessica winks at Jamal. “That never gets old.”

“It really does.” Graham complains, glaring at Jamal, who smirks.

“Anyone mind explaining the joke to me?” I ask.

“Rug—” Graham begins and is cut off by Hugo.

“What is he doing here? We haven’t voted him in,” Hugo asks, arms crossed as he glares at me.

“I would like to know too,” Shao says, fixing me with a considering look.

“Don’t worry, not here to join your little club. I actually invited myself along because I need to speak with Ms. Chowdury,” I say, nodding to the young lady who flashes me a smile.

“You want to talk about the Planetary Vote,” Jamal says, an aggrieved tone filling his voice. When I raise an eyebrow at him, he snorts. “What, you think we all don’t get hit up on that topic? Most of us own a settlement or two. And those who don’t, know most of those who do in our countries.”

“Or continents,” Shao says, crossing her arms.

“Oh good. That means you’ll be useful to getting the vote passed.” When I make that statement, I watch for the champions’ reactions, trying to judge who is open to the idea and who isn’t. Unsurprisingly, Jamal looks pained, Rae is an unreadable hunk of metal, and Jessica and Shao look slightly interested. As for Bipasha, she’s unreadable but charming.

“As if we haven’t tried that,” Hugo says with a snort. “But you need eighty percent of the vote, and that’s an impossible number if you don’t own the entire planet. Hell, we don’t even own fifty percent of Earth. It’s bullshit politics.”