Life in the North: An Apocalyptic LitRPG

“What happened to my men?” the major says.

“Uhh…”

As I hesitate, the lieutenant steps forward and throws a punch at me. I see it coming, in time perhaps to dodge it, but under their guns, I take the punch. It slams into my stomach, forcing me to bow slightly in pain and exhale. Of course I’m wearing an undersuit of armor, but the son of a bitch hits like Mike Tyson. Or what I figure Tyson hits like.

“Remove your helmet. And do not hesitate again,” the major says.

I comply, removing the helmet to look around me. “Ali, glitter ball special on my command,” I think to him while answering the major. “They’re dead.”

“You are their killer?” the major asks.

I can’t for the life of me read him. It’s not just the alien body language or the armor covering his body; it’s that he isn’t giving away anything. I consider, very briefly and very quickly, lying, but reject the idea. The Yerick and Roxley both have ways of telling if someone is lying, and I am willing to bet so does the major.

“Yes. They attacked me first,” I answer, ready to let Ali know and trigger my QSM. The last time I fought these guys, they had quantum grenades that ripped through me even while I was in in my phased state, but any chance is better than none.

The major looks at me for a time then nods to the lieutenant, who steps back, away from me. “Explain the incident to me. In detail.”

I cough, rubbing at my stomach. As the lieutenant moves to hit me again, I start explaining, in detail, how I was looking for survivors after the System came into place, how I was attacked while driving here, my tactics, and finally, how I finished the matter. When I’m done, the silence lingers for a time.

The major makes his helmet disappear, an act that is copied by all his men. “They hid in the command room?”

I nod, fear slowly replaced with burning anger. I flex my hand, letting my gaze wander once more as I try to think of a survivable way of fighting back. I come up with nothing even as the major’s face twists and he spits on the ground. A few moments later, the other Hakarta follow his example. Interesting fact—Hakarta spit is green.

“I am Labashi Ruka, Major of the Sixty-Third Division. It is a pleasure to meet you, warrior,” Labashi says, deadpan.

The lieutenant twitches again, his purple eyes narrowing in displeasure.

I stare at the lieutenant for a moment before turning to Labashi. First they attack me, then they beat me, then they introduce themselves? Well, I guess Orc manners are just a little different. Or insane, if you will. So fine, insane it is. “John Lee. This means you decided not to kill me?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” the major answers. “Your actions have cost the Sixty-Third Division a decent supplementary bonus.”

I feel my grin widening as he so casually mentions my death. Well, okay then. I keep my voice level as I buy time to figure a way out. “Supplementary bonus?”

“Information about the city of Whitehorse was requested. As the information was not part of the original contract, the bonus is supplementary. It was, however, substantial.” Labashi just stands there, staring at me.

“Right…” I stare at him then flick my glance to Ali. “Is he hinting I should give him that information?”

“YES!” Ali bounces up and down, nodding. “If you don’t, I will!”

“Well, perhaps I can help with that.” My smile widens, becoming all teeth. All right, let’s see how this dance goes. “What do you need to know?”

Labashi returns my smile, all toothy grin, then flicks his gaze over to the lieutenant. The lieutenant makes a slight motion and a blue screen appears in front of me, detailing the information they wish. Current owner, political situation, individuals in power, notable parties, defenses…

I shake my head, looking the list over. “I know some of this, but I’ve not really been plugged in for the last few weeks.”

“Plugged in?” Labashi snorts slightly, large green nose flaring around his tusks.

“Uhh… been in touch. I moved out here a few weeks ago and haven’t been talking to people as much,” I explain.

Labashi nods. “That is acceptable. Tell us what you know.”

“Right, let’s see. Lord Roxley is the current landowner. There’s a Human City Council that sort of, but not really, works with him about running the city. Some Yerick arrived a few months ago and moved in too. No one truly notable beyond Lord Roxley and the Yerick First Fist. Everyone else is low level compared to you guys. The city still doesn’t have a stable Mana flow, so safe zones are limited to buildings. The human population is just above four thousand, if I recall correctly.” Down from a population of nearly thirty thousand before the Apocalypse.

As Labashi nods, I continue to speak, digging through my brain for the information he wants. I give him a list of facts, things he could purchase off the System if he really gave a damn to. None of this is “secret,” so none of it would be expensive. Hell, with their Stealth capabilities, it’d only take them a few days at most to figure this out.

“Security includes gate guards, a stone wall, and I believe technological shielding on the walls, though I’ve not seen them in play. Guards are, of course, Lord Roxley’s men and some humans.”

“Good. Tell me of these Lord Roxley’s men,” Labashi says.

I grimace but settle in, detailing who I recall seeing. The only thing I leave out are levels. No reason for him to know that I can read them, and I’m not offering that information up. For what seems like hours, the questioning continues. Once they realize I’m willing to talk, the guards relax slightly and we end up on my porch, drinking and snacking. I introduce the major to chocolate, which he seems highly appreciative of. He in turn introduces me to a fruit drink from his home world.

It’s a friendly interrogation, but it’s an interrogation nonetheless and he pulls a ton of information from me. I let him lead the questioning, never offering more information than what he asks for, but he’s good, very good, at getting what he wants. All the while, the lieutenant stands directly behind me, and if looks could kill, I’d be a laser-riddled corpse.

The flow of information isn’t just one way though. Being able to talk to them in a more relaxed setting means I can ask questions too. Carefully. I learn why it took them so long to come check on the fort. It seems their employer is a bit of a cheapskate and since each confirmed death of a Hakarta had a blood price, so long as the Hakarta were marked as “missing,” he didn’t need to make final payment. This little journey is actually off-the-books and completely on Labashi’s time.

“I do like these Belgian chocolates best.” Labashi pops one last piece into his mouth before he stands. “However, I must return to my division. Would you prefer the blade or the beam?”

I stand too, offering my hand once again. When my brain catches up, I freeze, staring at the hulking brute before me. Shit…

“John?” Labashi asks again, his voice calm.

In my peripheral vision, I see the Lieutenant has already drawn his blade. I shake my head then slowly speak. “Why?”

“Blood must pay in blood,” Labashi answers, and I gulp.

“Bullshit!” Ali pops into existence, glaring at him. He’s been quiet, invisible the whole time, and working furiously on his own screens while we talked.

“Ah, the Spirit makes his appearance.” Labashi’s lips pull apart, widening into what could charitably be called a grin. “And why would I shit with a bull?”

“Bugger that, you’re just angling for something with boy-o here. Why don’t you just say it?” Ali taps his foot. “You boys aren’t that bloodthirsty, and the fight was fair, so there’s no blood debt.”

Labashi continues to grin, staring at Ali before he laughs then nods. “Very well, Spirit. I shall stop pulling the leg of the Adventurer. We stand to gain additional Credits for continued information about this Whitehorse. I desire John to provide that information.”

I grunt. Now that my heart isn’t thundering, that makes a lot of sense. In fact, from the way he was speaking during our interrogation, I was pretty sure he was going to ask me to do that, though I didn’t expect him to threaten me. Then again, I guess this is what they call blackmail. That word, that thought sets off the slow kindling flame of anger in me again, the one that’s been trying to get out since I got attacked in my own home. I really, really don’t like getting pushed around. “Can do.”

Labashi grins again, clapping me on the shoulder and gesturing for his people to get together. “We will provide you a list of what is required.”

I nod and wait till they’re gathered and have walked away a bit before I call out, “So what am I getting paid?”

They turn as a group, and even Ali spins to stare at me.

Labashi opens his mouth and I continue. “Don’t bother with threats. If you kill me, you get nothing, so that doesn’t work out for you. Of course, I’d be dead, but it still doesn’t help you.”

The lieutenant shifts, stepping toward me, and I shake my head. “Last warning, don’t try it.”

“Kyroc,” Labashi says, and the lieutenant steps back. Good discipline. “Do you believe you can beat us?”

“No, but I’m really good at running. I just need a little head start.” I smile slightly, gesturing to where they are, and let just a little of my anger reach my eyes. “That’s about enough.”

“I see… and what do you desire?” Labashi answers, sharp teeth beginning to show as he looks at me.

“Payment of course. You want me to be a spy? Well, spies get paid.” I shrug. “We’ll call it, oh… twenty percent of the System price. And a guarantee we don’t ever have this conversation again.”

“Impossible! Twenty percent is too high.”

I glance at Ali, who doesn’t make a move. “What’s your number?”

“Ten percent.”

“Twenty-five.”

“That is not how you negotiate,” Labashi replies, eyes narrowing.

“It is when you give a too low number to begin with.” This is stupid, but that’s okay. I’m about fifty percent sure I can get away before they can kill me. And if not… well, fuck it. I was dead as of three months ago anyway. “Shall we try for higher?”

“Twenty-five,” Labashi answers, nodding.

“And a guarantee of immunity from prosecution from the Hakarta,” I add.

“I can only guarantee for my division,” Labashi says.

“That’ll do.”

“Then the deal is done.”

“One thing—I don’t guarantee I’ll be able to get all the information you want,” I add.

“The deal will be voided if you do not treat fairly with us and attempt to learn the requested information,” Labashi adds, then his grin widens. “And I will find you and show you how we feel about deal-breakers.”

“Fair enough.” I smile back at him, the pit of anger still burning away.

“Then the deal is done,” Labashi repeats again.

The way he says it makes me think it is ritual, so I repeat it myself.

Contract Initiated and Agreed Upon by Labashi Ruka and John Lee.

Further Details? (Y/N)

I blink and my eyes narrow slightly at the Orc. He just flashes me another toothy grin before pulling on his helmet as the group turns and walks away. I watch them leave before I retrieve my weapons and dismiss my sword. I have a feeling I somehow got played…

“Well, that was fun.” I slump down next to the door, letting out a long exhalation when I finally decide that they really are gone.

“What the hell!” Ali mutters, shaking his head. “You had to challenge him?”

“Didn’t like being pushed around.”

“Idiot! And he got you into a contract. You sure you up to this, boy-o?”

“Why not? Aren’t you the one who’s always saying everything has a price in the System? If they really wanted to know, they could just buy it. I might as well get paid,” I say a bit bitterly. “Anyway, I never said I wasn’t going to tell the others about this.”

“Playing both sides?” Ali says, and I shrug.

“Possibly. This way, at least we know what they want to know. Better to control the flow of information than not.” I rub my temples before I tilt my head toward Ali. “I wonder who their employer is.”

“You could find out.”

I consider it before shake my head. I’m not that interested in wasting good Credit. I look down at my hands, seeing that they’ve stopped shaking and somehow a chocolate piece is in one. I finish unwrapping it and pop it into my mouth, leaning back against the wall and savoring the taste. Gods, that was close.

“Could I have escaped?” I wonder aloud.

“No idea. Probably not,” Ali adds, shaking his head. “You don’t become a major without at least a few tricks up your sleeve.”

“Yeah…” I shut my eyes, shaking my head. At least for now, the Hakarta are a known threat. I’ll have to figure out what, if anything, to do about them later. “So, care to explain contracts?”

“It’s a Skill.” Ali’s brows furrow. “I guess it’s not surprising Mercenaries have it, but I should have warned you. I just didn’t realize he had it. The Skill binds the user and other parties into the deal they agreed upon. If you fail to live up to your side, it not only notifies him, but the System will also impose a penalty upon you. Mostly a Mana tax and the ability for the user to track you. Which can be transferred. Bounty hunters make most of their living off contract breakers.”

I nod slowly, grimacing. Great. And the deal’s open-ended. The only advantage is that like any permanent alteration in the System, the major’s got to be paying for the contract through his Mana, so it’s not something he’d want to keep forever.

“All right, boy-o, up and at them. You need a bath,” Ali says after I’ve been sitting there for a bit.

“I…” I frown then shake my head. “No. Let’s head in. I think… I think I need some company.”

I slowly stand up and look back at the fort. Company, safety, perhaps a place to put my head down. The Hakarta aren’t likely to come back, but… tonight I’ll sleep in my house in Whitehorse.

Chapter 3

“John!” Xev chitters, hunched over and waving its claws in my face.

I plaster on a smile for Xev, looking it over. With six legs and a pair of three-fingered hands on a black, hairy body with a bulbous abdomen and front, Xev looks like a giant black spider with hands. It’s a little disconcerting, and the first time I saw it, I had to work really hard at not shooting it and I’m not even scared of spiders. It’s no wonder Xev mostly hides in its store.

“Is Sabre good?”

“Not bad, just some minor structural damage.” I gesture at the bike as I turn it off in the parking space outside Xev’s workshop.

Xev chitters angrily, waving me away before it starts prodding at Sabre. As Xev scrambles around the bike, fitting a variety of wires into various slots, it pokes at one of the armor points and peels the point away with its tools, staring at the insides of the bike. “This is old! You should bring it in faster next time. Even if your nanite upgrades fix the armor, the structural damage is still there.”

“Sorry,” I say automatically.

Really, the structural damage was so minor it didn’t seem to matter. Putting all that money into the Omnitron Class II Nanite Armor Upgrade has saved me a ton in repairs, even if the armor class didn’t go up. As Xev mutters to itself, I have to clear my throat to get its attention.

After a quick discussion, I leave Sabre with it for the evening and head for the butchering yard. The butchering yard is what used to be the old fire hall, a single-story sprawling building with wide barn doors that face onto the old prospector train tracks. The train tracks aren’t connected to anything anymore, and before the Apocalypse, they were mostly used to gouge tourists during the summer. The entire area from the fire hall to the old train station is part of the yard now, with the newly made compost piles making up the third portion of their rather smelly triangle next to the river.

Thankfully, low-level enchantments keep the wind blowing into the river, keeping the smells of butchered and rotting carcasses away from downtown Whitehorse. Occasionally a mage will come along and cast a Purge Disease spell to keep things sanitary. Or as sanitary as anything can be around here. Of course, sending all those lovely smells out across the river brings its own problems. They’ve recently had to add guards on the other side of the river to deal with the increased monster presence.

At the yard, I follow directions and watch as the bodies from my Altered Space are pulled apart, weighed, and portions of the body separated for both Sally, the town’s leading Alchemist, and Xev. As usual, I get a Quest completion with a small amount of experience and Credit bonus for turning in the meat, which is partly why I do so. The other reason is that while we’re doing well with food for now, come winter, food will be significantly more difficult to acquire. Even now, the city is desperately attempting to stock up for winter since we aren’t getting deliveries from down south anymore. I wonder how they’re doing down there?

Shaking my head, I dismiss the thought. Not really my problem. I watch the men and women swarm the bodies, harvesting the body parts and dumping them into carts, moving with grace and strength that would have been impossible even a few months ago. As I turn away, my eye is drawn to the futuristic, towering monstrosity of an office building that sits smack dab in the center of the city, its mirrored silvery appearance at odds with the quaint two-and three-story 1920s era commercial buildings of the town. That tower is one I know well—it’s where the Shop is, and where Lord Roxley resides and reigns over us all. Once upon a time I was a regular visitor there, till things fell apart. Once upon a time…

I shake my head, dismissing the matter. As I walk up Main Street, I notice that more and more buildings are coming back to life. We have a grocery store with handmade local luxuries, an armorer with locally crafted low-level armor pieces, a couple of competing alchemists, a trio of clothing stores, the Guild, the hotels that have been purchased, and of course, the only open pub in the city.

As always, the pub is noisy and busy. What kind of Adventurers would we be without a pub? It’s not as if the Yukon led Canada in the highest alcohol consumption per person. Or that our local brewing company was set up two weeks ago as one of the first major private enterprises.

I feel my lips twist as I stare at it, wry humor and irritation sparking alongside one another in my mind. I don’t even know why I’m angry… I shove it aside, bottling up the anger once again as I step into the establishment. The inside of the Nugget is all dark faux wood and worn, mismatched furniture. The Apocalypse came on fast, and rampaging monsters and panicked humans destroyed the old furniture sets. Now, it’s catch as catch can.

At eight in the evening, the Nugget is busy and noisy, filled with people resting, eating, and drinking after a long day’s work. Hunting parties sit together and dominate the room. A few craftsmen sit in their own groups. Skimpily dressed young women do most of the serving, dropping off beer, steaks, and fish and chips in large quantities. As I survey the inside, a waving hand catches my attention. Jason, a thin, weedy-looking teenager who looks way too young to be in here.

For a moment, I consider not going over. However, Jason hasn’t done anything to me and I do want to check up on the kid. I walk over, letting my gaze slide over the group with him. Richard, redheaded and dashing with a new young lady on his arm and Shadow, a pony-sized husky, curled up beside his feet. Mikito, her ever-present naginata resting against the wall behind her, a look of strained patience plastered on her face. Constable Mike Gadsby with his metal arm and tired eyes. The first two were my former party members; the last was one of the leaders of Carcross.

Jason Cope (Level 38 Elementalist)

HP: 230/230

Constable Mike Gadsby (Level 37 Guardian)

HP: 940/940

Mikito Sato (Level 32 Samurai)

HP: 530/530

Richard Pearson (Level 31 Beast Tamer)

HP: 250/250

I look around, spotting Rachel with the Brothers of the Wolf, the First Nation’s exclusive group of teenagers, and my eyes narrow. Did she quit to join them or…?

I shake my head as Jason pulls a chair to the table for me, squeezing it in so I can take a seat. My back is to the door, which makes me twitch slightly, but I’m the last to arrive, so beggars can’t be choosers. “Evening.”

“John, we wanted to ask Ali about something,” Jason says immediately, not even bothering to greet me.

A passing waitress drops a pint of beer on the table for me, assuming I’ll be drinking. No need for questions of what I’ll drink—it’s either water or beer here and I’m not drinking water.

“Questions are five Credits, answers are ten,” Ali says as he floats after one of the waitresses. “Toots, I need a drink too.”

I see the quick flash of irritation before the waitress’s face smooths out. She returns to drop a glass from her tray before she heads back to the bar, where the bartender works feverishly to keep up with the nonstop flow of orders.

“You drink?” I stare as Ali picks up the pint glass before chugging it down.

“I do now.” Ali smirks, clearly proud of himself.

Jason blinks at Ali before he shakes his head. “It’s about Stats, man. We’ve been talking about it and I’ve been charting the growth. It just doesn’t make sense. Like, I’ve got a Strength of 20 now. So that should mean I’m, like, twice as strong as a normal human, or maybe double the peak? And I sure aren’t.

“Even dumber? The non-physical ones don’t even make sense. I’m smarter than before, but I’m not, you know, making physics breakthroughs. Richard’s all kinds of sexy and he’s getting laid like crazy, but so’s Mike. No offense, old man. But for the level of his Stats, I should be wanting to sleep with Richard and I ain’t. No offense.”

“None taken. I don’t do kids,” Richard replies, and the pixie-haired blonde next to him frowns, looking at Richard then Jason.

“So what the hell? I don’t get this shit,” Jason says.

“Ali, I got this,” I think to my friend. As the waitress comes up, I point at the chalkboard menu. “One of everything.”

Having delayed it long enough, I turn to Jason and grin, a little cruel streak popping up. “First, stop swearing. Your mom would be angry. Second, you sure you’re old enough to be drinking here?”

“Har, har. Funny. I was talking to Ali.” Jason prods at his nose in an attempt to adjust non-existent glasses.

I chuckle, leaning back, and pull a chocolate piece from my inventory. “Seriously though, I can answer this. It’s very simple—it’s the System.”

Richard groans and Mikito snorts, sipping on her beer. The others just look puzzled at the inside joke.

I elaborate. “The System’s the System. No use trying to figure it out. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, come on! I know you said this isn’t a game, but we still need to understand!”

I grimace then glance at Ali, who sighs, putting his third pint down half-finished. He lets out a large burp before he waggles his fingers, a glowing blue screen appearing. It’s filled with symbols, circles, dashes, and dots that combine in distinct groupings much like Egyptian hieroglyphs. “Right, System basics 101. One hundred Credits. And I won’t ever give this talk again.”

“A hundred!” Jason sputters, glaring at Ali, who nods before Jason relents, sending over the payment.

“Good man. You see that? That’s what it actually says for ‘Strength.’ That’s in System,” Ali points. “That gets translated to this”—the screen shifts, the language changing to a series of scrawls now—“which is Galactic Script. That then gets translated to your respective human language. As you can guess, the translation is actually a lot more complex.

“When you increase your Strength attribute, you’re adjusting all of that. The change actually adjusts the way you manage Mana via the System. For example—Gadsby. You should have shattered the table and your pint glass by being that rough. After all, you probably could punch through steel right now. However, your Strength comes from the System. So the System alters the density and strength of things you interact with, thus, non-breaking tables and ground that can handle movement at speed. Hell, Mikito even bends beam weapons ever so slightly around her as she dodges. The System ‘helps’ all of you without you consciously knowing it.”

Jason opens his mouth then shuts it while Gadsby and the blonde look on in interest. Richard and Mikito look bored, having heard this before. Me? I just get to eating as the first plate arrives. Funny thing about adventuring—you end up eating a ton.

“So your points aren’t a straight line. They literally are a kind-of-approximate tool to let you understand the System better. The Council cobbled it together from the way you guys understand the System and what it’d bring about.

“As for Intelligence and the other intangibles, well, as I told John a long time ago, Intelligence increases don’t necessarily make you smarter. Physically, your brain has been altered a bit. But you can’t do higher physics because you never learnt the basics. You have faster neural processes, but if all you’ve done is fight, those new neural connections might help you think and react faster in a fight but that’s it. Also, don’t forget that much of those increases and changes are going to help you control and manipulate Mana itself.” Ali shrugs. “I’ve heard of a few people who have managed to become super-geniuses from increasing their intelligence, but most of them were already on the borderline anyway.”

Jason shakes his head, trying to put it together. “What are you saying? That Intelligence isn’t intelligence? That it’s more Mana pool?”

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Ali answers. “Look, think of it like your Earth computers. You got a motherboard—your body. Intelligence increases help adjust the motherboard and the RAM, increasing both. Sometimes it upgrades your motherboard, sometimes it upgrades the RAM. Sometimes it adds a new graphics card or new slots so you can plug in more things, like Psionic powers. However, you still need to run the right programs to make your computer work. That means getting the right Skills. Doesn’t matter how good a computer you have, if you’re doing 1+1, it’s still 1+1.”

Jason frowns then opens his mouth before shutting it. Kid’s trying to game the System again, just like he did when he started. Still, the fact that he’s filled out a bit and doesn’t look like a stiff breeze will send him over probably means he’s been putting points into something other than Intelligence. Which is good.

“How about Charisma? Am I sleeping with Richard because I want to or because he wants me to or because the System does?” the blonde queries, brow furrowed.

I push my plate aside and tackle the next one—a plate of cross-hatched ribs stewed in a really tasty barbecue sauce. Even as I dig in, I make sure to listen to this answer. I know I have… issues with that ability. It’s part of why I turned down Roxley. And Lana. I don’t like the idea of being told to like someone.

“Sort of.” Ali shrugs and opens his hand. “It’s the same answer. Yes, his Charisma trait makes him look better to you, makes his pheromones more powerful and enticing. No, it’s not directly affecting your emotions or thoughts. You need to use a Skill for that.” Left unsaid is the fact that a successful Skill use would leave no traces when it came to Social skills like that. “Maybe the System is affecting things to some degree. Then again, if Claudia Schiffer came along, I wouldn’t say no.”

The girl opens her mouth then shuts it, looking at Richard then back at Ali. Unconsciously, she edges away from Richard, putting space between them.

Richard rolls his eyes at Ali, mouthing, “Thank you,” as he leans back and folds his arms.

Mike, on the other hand, is frowning, rubbing his chin. I guess the question of consent really bites considering his former profession. Must be tough being one of two living constables in a couple of hundred kilometers.

I push my other plate aside, grabbing the third and last one, a bowl of stew. Not much choice yet, but what there is is good. As the others devolve into discussing details, forcing Ali to pull up descriptions and going into them line by line, I turn back to my own thoughts. One thing I don’t add is that it’s quite likely whoever created the System is purposely nerfing Intelligence. I’d lay good money down that whoever built this didn’t want a bunch of super-intelligences running around. After all, if we get too smart, we might figure out a way to survive without the System and that, I know, is something the creators don’t want. I’ve called the entire System a scam, and the more I read and learn, the more certain I am that it is. It’s like one of those multi-level marketing schemes where the moment you buy in, you have to keep buying in.

“Coming tomorrow?” Mikito says when she manages to catch my eye.

I blink, raising an eyebrow and she sighs.

“The Boss attacks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

She frowns, shooting a look at Richard, who has joined in the discussion. “That’s why Jason and Mike are here. We’re grouping up to take on some of the Bosses. You should have been invited.” Concern tinges her voice.

“I’m not exactly Mr. Popular around here.”

“I don’t care. Are you coming?”

I shrug. “No idea.” I lean back as I push the stew aside, wiping my face before sipping on my drink. “Maybe. You guys probably can handle it.”

“It’d be good for you. For us.” She sighs. “Fine, you baka.”

Yeah, well… I don’t really see a point. I don’t owe the city anything, not anymore. And whatever she thinks, my presence might cause more problems than I fix. As she falls silent, shrinking back into her seat, I listen in on the conversation. It’s moved on, thankfully, from the System to town gossip, and I make sure to pay attention. After all, you never know what I might learn, and I’m getting paid now. I think.

“Lana,” I greet the redheaded stunner as I walk into my house.

She’s tucked away in the kitchen, waving at screens only she can see. Richard and Mikito left the pub hours ago, both of them heading home to get some rest for their big day tomorrow. I have to admit, I was kind of glad to see them go. While I might not hold much animosity toward them, the camaraderie we had is now strained. By the time I decided to leave, I was getting more than a few dirty looks from the tired bar staff as they worked to clear up for the evening.

Lana looks up, and Richard’s sister, as always, takes my breath away. Piercing bright blue eyes that turn green and violet in certain lights, and her version of a uniform—a simple blouse and pair of jeans—does nothing to hide her ample curves. There are people in this life who, if you’re real lucky, you have that inexplicable “it” with. Call it chemistry, call it a biological urge, some even call it love, but there’s an instantaneous attraction. As Lana smiles at me, I can’t help but think it only took the end of the world for me to meet not one but two such individuals at the same damn time. Of course, it would require the end of the world to meet a Truinnar like Roxley. All in all, it’s about about par for the course with my luck.

Flicking her hand to dismiss her System screens, she says, “John.”

“Up late?” I step into the kitchen, drawn like a moth to a flame. Closer, I see slight bags under her eyes and a tension in her shoulders that I’ve never seen before.

“Just work.” Her eyes flick over my form too in silent assessment. “What’s wrong?”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“Har! I’m not the one who runs into trouble all the time. I’m just a paper pusher,” she says, shaking her head. “Seriously, John, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing much.” I keep my hands on the table, mostly to make sure I know where they are as I sit down across her. I have to admit, it bothers me a little that she can read me so well—even my father never seemed to be able to do that. Not that he ever paid that much attention to me… I push the old bitter thoughts aside.

“John…” Lana’s voice changes, growing stern.

“I just had some visitors. The Hakarta.” I shrug, and at her puzzled expression, I add, “The Space Orcs.”

“Oh.” Her lips tighten, then she shakes her head, drawing her own conclusions. Probably violent ones.

“So what papers are you pushing?”

“The usual. Business proposals. Loan extension requests. Reports and cashflow projections.” She shakes her head before rubbing her temples.

Lana runs the biggest investment fund in Whitehorse, initially funded through my killings, but these days it’s pretty self-sufficient. From what I recall, she basically has a hand in every significant private enterprise since the System came into play. Not that I’ve seen a Credit in return—every single Credit of profit has been plowed right back into the City and the fund. Still, it’s nice to know I’ve got a nest egg growing somewhere.

“Get an AI, toots,” Ali says, appearing on the table next to her and flashing her a grin.

“Ali.”

The smile Lana gives the Spirit sends a spike of anger through me, and I quell it. Just because the two have gotten closer since they saved my ass a month ago is no reason for me to get jealous. None at all.

“Aren’t those expensive?” she asks.

“Only if you get them as a Companion. If you get an off-the-rack one, they’ll be pretty cheap. A basic one shouldn’t cost you much at all. Just make sure to get the heavy security models. Definitely don’t get a Spirit. No self-respecting Spirit wants to be a glorified personal assistant.”

Lana nods, rubbing her chin. “I don’t know, I don’t have a lot of Credits left…”

“Use the Fund,” I chime in. “It’s a business expense.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Lana says, frowning at me.

“Says who?” I smirk then wave. “Not as if the CRA are coming after you for taxes. So long as you buy it through the Shop, Roxley gets his cut. Way I see it, you’re all good.”

“I guess…” She rubs her temples again before her voice drops lower. “John, we should talk…”

“Yes.” I blink, tilting my head. I quell the urge to flee, sensible as it may be.

“Mikito says you won’t be with us tomorrow,” Lana says.

My brain jerks to a stop as thoughts rearrange. Oh, we’re not having The Talk. Just a talk. Right, I can deal with that. “Yeah, I wasn’t… wait. Us?” I lean forward, my voice tight.

“I’m going too. The Bosses, they need to be killed.”

“Of course they do. Why are you going?”

“Because it needs to be done,” she replies, frowning.

“Sure, sure. But you’re…” I open my mouth then clamp it shut as Ali shakes his head at me. Oh crap.

“I’m what, John?” Her voice rising, Lana glares at me. “A paper pusher? A girl?”

“No, not that. You just, you know, haven’t really been…”

She snorts. “If you’ve forgotten, I walked here with Mikito and Richard. I still go out with them once in a while.” Lana gets to her feet. “I saved your ungrateful ass a month ago. I can take care of myself.”

I open my mouth, wanting to point out that, if I knew her at all, she was just about to ask me to keep her higher-Leveled brother safe, but I snap it shut at Ali’s screamed, mental, “NO.”

Right, right. Not the way to win an argument. While I’m working that all out, Lana stomps right out and I watch her back, grimacing.

“Well done, boy-o.” Ali golf-claps from his seat on the table.

“Bite me.”

Late at night, I stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out what went wrong. I spent weeks away from them all, trying to come to terms with who and what I am. With the anger that sits in me, the world that we live in. And within hours of coming back, I’m fighting with Lana and confused once again.

I don’t know what they want from me, not really, and the gods know I definitely don’t know what I want. To survive, sure. To get through another day, get a little stronger, get a little better. To fight, because I can? Saying it, thinking it out loud, it seems so stupid.

I slowly exhale, focusing on just breathing for a few moments. I don’t know what I want for myself or for Lana. I just know that I don’t want her to die. I don’t want anyone else I could save to die. Truth be told, as much as I said otherwise to Mikito, I probably would have gone and kept an eye on the group anyway. Now that Lana’s going, I’m definitely going. I don’t need another ghost haunting my conscience—I have enough already.

Chapter 4

“What did you do?” Richard mutters as he grabs my arm, dragging me aside the next morning.

The hunting groups had gathered around the sternwheeler near Rotary Park. When I drove in, late, Richard immediately spotted me and stalked over.

“My sister’s been on the warpath all morning!” Richard growls, gripping my arm tightly. “She’s insisting on being part of the main teams instead of the reserve.”

“What makes you think I did anything?” I ask innocently, giving him big eyes behind my helmet.

“Because she only ever gets that angry when it comes to you!” Richard lets go of my arm, glaring at me. “If she gets hurt…”

“You’ll get your puppies to tear me limb for limb. Got it,” I reply wryly and shake my head. Those two…

As Richard opens his mouth to say something else, he’s cut off by a short, angry man in a suit. A suit in this day and age. And in Whitehorse too, where formal attire is your best plaid shirt and a pair of clean jeans.

His voice rising as he speaks, shorty says, “What is he doing here?”

I grin at Eric Roth, aka Minion. “Just ambling along. How you doing?”

“You! Get out of here. This is official Whitehorse City Council business and you are not invited,” Minion snarls, stepping forward and vibrating.

I’m reminded of a tiny yappy dog. I feel one side of my lips tug up at the thought, and he stops and steps back.

“Trust me, I’m not here for you,” I drawl then raise a hand. Minion flinches slightly, probably remembering my hand wrapped around his throat, and I flick it, shooing him away. “Go do your thing.”

Minion glares at me, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s cut off by a low rumble.

“Are we to begin, Councilor Roth? I am being paid by the hour.” The speaker is a nine-foot-tall bull-man hybrid, a full-on Minotaur from legends, in sci-fi battle armor. The Minotaur even has an axe, though the barrel shape in the center lends credence to the idea that it’s more than just a melee weapon.

The Yerick—the real name for the Minotaurs—is the only group of immigrants to Whitehorse thus far. They haven’t had the best of receptions and there’s a large degree of animosity toward them. Led by Capstan Ulrik, their First Fist—whatever that means—the Yerick are a tribe of career Adventurers. When the Yerick are invited and I’m not, that shows you how low I am on the totem pole of popularity.

Minion’s face twists again in a sneer before he hurries over to the group leaders, where Lana and Mikito stand. Lana shoots me a glare that could freeze water solid.

Richard mutters next to me, “You have got to stop antagonizing that man.”

“Better to twit him than kill him,” I reply, flexing my hand by my side.

“Sometimes I’m not entirely sure if you’re joking,” Richard says.

I don’t let him know that I’m not sure either. Minion almost literally admitted to burning down the Yerick’s buildings, but here he is, walking around free and clear and organizing everyone, and I’m persona non grata. Okay, fine, choking him out in broad daylight might have been a bit of an overreaction to losing face in front of Roxley and Capstan, but even now, I feel my blood boil at the betrayal. I exhale, forcing myself to let it go. The past is past, after all. Time to stop bitching about it. What is, is.

I shake my head slightly, realizing that Richard left while I was caught up in my thoughts. As much as I believe Minion was the mastermind behind the fire, there’s no evidence. He never directly admitted to anything, and the actual culprits have been caught and tried. They’re working off their debts in the compound that the Yerick built on their burnt-out plots of land, and as far as the city is concerned, the case is closed. Tensions between the races are high still, but between the increased surveillance drones and a few very public and nasty beatdowns by the Yerick, direct attacks have stopped.

As I stand by myself and idly watch Minion speak to the groups, I read lips and pick out where he’s sending everyone. Ali helps by hacking his System window and displaying it for me, adding annotations as each group is directed to a different Boss. I wonder where Fred, our erstwhile mayor, is before I remember he prefers to let his minions do the actual work.

If I have to say one good thing about Minion, it’s that he’s highly organized. Ten minutes later, the groups are disappearing and that’s even after time to answer any questions. My gaze wanders over each group once more, watching as Capstan splits a few of his men off to join different groups. It’s not a horrible setup, other than the fact that Minion only intends to keep a single reserve team—the Chaos Hands. I check their levels again, see that nothing is over 25, and wince. We’re all still under-leveled for this area.

My gaze sweeps over the group again and I realize that gathered here are the careful, the lucky, and the crazy. The brave, the rational, and the unlucky are dead, murdered in the first few days of the System for the most part. First responders, the RCMP, the burgeoning heroes all died in the opening scenes of the Apocalypse, fighting creatures that out-leveled them. It’s only through the mercy of the gods and Lord Roxley’s presence that we’ve survived as long as we have.

“So, boy-o, we following the girl?” Ali sends to me mentally, and I nod. “You know she’s going to be pissed, right?”

“Better pissed than dead. We’ll hang back a bit though.”

Ever since Mana flooded the world and the System came, monsters have been appearing all over Earth. There are two kinds: the ones that have evolved from Earth and the ones that have been ‘imported’ into the world via the System. Occasionally those monsters are particularly nasty—a System-designated Boss. Or maybe they’re already Bosses and the System just tags them. Either way, they’re strong and tough and their presence means that particular monster group will populate faster than normal. Leave them alone long enough and you get monster swarms and they become a mainstay in a region, flooding outward. If you’re really unlucky, they find a location with a high Mana density and stay there, eventually creating a dungeon.

Since the entire world has been designated a Dungeon World and we’re getting the overflow of Mana from every other System-controlled world, it’s pretty much a given we’re going to get a ton of Dungeons and Bosses. The goal today is simple though—just like we used to manage the wildlife, we’re going to manage the monster population. Just like you kill the bulls to reduce the herd, we kill the Bosses. Of course, along the way we’ll be killing a ton of normal monsters too, but that’s the way it works.

Loping along far behind Lana’s group, I have a lot of time to think. The occasional monsters they miss and the ones that try to sneak up on them aren’t even a challenge. I have Ali patched into their communications channel as he floats alongside me, listening in just in case something important comes up. Mostly though, the two of us are along for the ride. If we’re real lucky, I won’t even need to get involved.

An hour later, I come to a stop as Lana’s group hits the boundary of their target’s area. I pull up my minimap, focusing on the green dots.

Knight Beetle (Level 29)

HP: 180/180

Ali pulls up some information for me, flicking over the System window. As I read the monster information, I relax. Each beetle is purple and gray, about two and a half feet in length and a foot tall, with armored carapaces that give them their name. Tough and they have a tendency to swarm. However, Lana’s group of five humans is augmented by her three oversized huskies and a mutated fox. While Lana might not go out as often, she certainly knows how to control her animals and the way the red dots of the low level enemies she fights keep disappearing on my minimap tell me they’re doing well.

I rub my neck, fingers hitting armor as I do so and I grimace. Armor is all nice and good but try giving yourself a massage while wearing it. I sigh, giving up on trying to get rid of the tension that way, and just pull out some chocolate to chew on while I wait. Ali’s head is tilted as he obviously listens to something before he grunts.

“John… how much do you like Jim?”

“What’s wrong?” I look for where Jim should be and realize he’s only a few kilometers away.

“Nothing yet, but I don’t think his group can deal with what he’s going to be fighting,” Ali says. “So we going?”

I hesitate, looking back at where Lana fights. She hasn’t hit the Boss yet and those things can change the flow of a battle. On the other hand… I bite my lip, twisting to where Jim’s Boss marker is and take off running. I hope I’m doing the right thing.

“What’s so bad Jim can’t handle?” I ask as I pound through the dirt, the powered armor covering the ground at a good pace. I shatter rock and the occasional fallen tree, knowing that I don’t have a lot of time. His Boss wasn’t that much farther out than Lana’s. Still, Jim’s a big boy—he’s the most senior of the City’s Hunters and a tough old coot.

“Lightning Squirrels.” Ali floats alongside me with ease as I activate Thousand Steps, a skill that lets me move faster. “They’re mutations of your ground squirrels. Individually, they’re really low level. However, they swarm. Each of them feeds off the other and there’s a lot more of them than Minion knows about.”

Even as we talk, my map updates with little gray dots. Low level indeed. I watch as the dots disappear in front of the friendly blue dots of Jim’s group. No surprise that they’re taking them out at range—his entire group is composed of rifle users. Unfortunately, what they can’t see is the swarm of gray dots that have begun to converge on them.

As the swarm closes in, I spot a blue dot flicker and disappear. I grit my teeth as the blue dots pull back in a somewhat orderly fashion, but they can’t keep ahead. I can see flashes of electricity with my eyes now. The never-ending arcs have lit the undergrowth on fire. Beam weaponry stabs out from the embattled group, along with the crack of projectile fire, each shot killing individual Squirrels. There’s even the occasional explosion, but that doesn’t really seem to change my map.

I’ve opened fire myself, keeping to normal projectiles as I unload on the Squirrels. Each shot disintegrates a small creature, turning it into red mist, and I even occasionally manage to get more than one with a shot.

“This isn’t working!” I yell, bouncing forward.

The occasional lightning arc at this distance feels like a static electricity discharge through the armor, but we’re going right into the center of the swarm and I know it’s going to get worse. I draw a deep breath, letting the shooting and running go on autopilot as I reach into myself for my own link to the Elemental Affinity and push it out of me, letting it envelop me. When the next lightning strike hits, I use the Gift to reroute the arc around me and Sabre rather than through us. Once that’s established, it takes me a moment to cast my next spell. Greater Regeneration increases my natural healing rate so that I can deal with the bleed-through. A thought lets me review the damage I’m receiving from each blast.

-13 HP (78% resisted)

“I’ve got a plan,” Ali shouts as I keep firing. “Just follow the bouncing ball!”

I snarl, running ahead and following the bouncing ball that appears in my display as I keep shooting. Occasionally my path intersects an unlucky squirrel and I either stab or stomp it. Electricity keeps building around me and we’re almost constantly wreathed in lightning now. Ali isn’t speaking, his face set in grim concentration as he floats alongside me. My jaw hurts from clenching it so tight as the lightning shudders through me even as it slowly drives my health down. A slow ticking down in the corner of my vision tells me Sabre’s not doing great either.

“Okay, boy-o. Grab me when you reach me and lend me your Mana and strength!” Ali says as he darts ahead, right to where the bouncing ball lands. He appears for a second, his hands raised as the lightning flows through him.

I extend my sense, my Affinity, and I see what Ali’s doing. Everything that hits him, he attaches a thread to, sliding it into the bodies of the squirrels. I place a hand on Ali’s and make the connection, feeling the lightning rip through me and pull Mana alongside the flow.

Pain fills my world, consuming me, and all I can do is go along for the ride. Muscles clench and spasm, my heart beats erratically, and I’m pretty sure I void my bowels at some point, but I keep holding on to Ali, refusing to let go. Pain, anger, and stubbornness—linchpins of my life.

A part of me watches as Ali threads all of it together, faster and faster until everything around is attached to him. Ali snarls, twisting with his hands, and I feel the change as the threads of Mana he has connected via the lightning tug on the Squirrels. It’s just a little, a small alteration in their atoms, but at the speed of well, light, the change happens. Electrons slip free, loosened from their moorings. A small change to each atom multiplied thousands, millions of times.

The lightning explodes. Lightning Squirrels are no longer able to contain and direct the overflow, so it heats them up—heats us up—and I know I’m screaming. One second we’re in the middle of a maelstrom, and the next, it disappears. Stray arcs jump and skip all around us, the ground molten glass. I stumble away, brute forcing Sabre to move because it’s still rerouting from all the damage. I fall on my face on smoking, ashen ground as Ali slowly floats down, his eyes sparkling.

“What a rush!” Ali says, holding up a hand and waggling olive-colored fingers that dance with electricity. “Woah! That’s a ton of notifications—wait one second!”

I stare into the sky, my muscles twitching occasionally from the after-effects. Eventually, I reach out with one of my Shop-purchased Skills and dump Sabre directly into my inventory. Quite a useful Skill to have, being able to put anything that the System registers directly into my inventory just by being in contact with it. My body drops onto the scorched earth and I groan, rolling up as the heat cuts through my skin-tight armored coveralls. I don’t even want to know how much it’s going to cost to fix Sabre. The remains of Jim’s party, with an added golden-brown Minotaur, stumble over, staring at the smoking squirrel corpses around me, their eyes wide.

I look around for a moment, taking in the smoking grass, the occasional glassy spot, and the hundreds of corpses, as well as the occasional burning trees, and realize I’m having one of those post-apocalyptic moments in real life. Hell, I can’t even be blamed for this one.

“John?” Jim, the big First Nation Elder, stammers as he limps up to me.

“Yeah?” I look at Ali, who continues to float, muttering to himself. “I thought you might need some help.”

“Shit, you got that right.” Jim’s voice rises and falls as he tries to stay calm. “It was supposed to be a relatively easy kill, just a bunch of ground squirrels. I lost half my men…”

“Sorry.” I looked around then sighed. “That’s a hell of a lot of looting.”

The group jerkily nods, each of them moving to their respective glowing corpses. Lovely System, only allowing us to loot our own kills. At least if you aren’t in a party and I never did formally join theirs. Not that I really want to share – it’s going to be expensive enough fixing Sabre.

I start looting after a few minutes, when I can handle standing up, after eying Lana’s group in the map. Seems like they survived without me. A short while later, Ali finally perks up and waves, flicking a series of System windows to me.

Level Up!

You have reached Level 22 as an Erethran Honor Guard. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 3 Free Attribute Points and 4 Class Skills to distribute.

Resistance Improved: Electricity +10% (50% Total)

Well, that was interesting. I’m grateful I don’t have to wade through all the text about how many monsters I killed. Looking at Ali, I point at the bodies while I pull up my information to take a closer look at my Status. I can hear him muttering about being given the scut work as he does the looting for me but I ignore him. If he didn’t complain, I’d be worried he was sick. Can Spirits get sick?

Status Screen

Name

John Lee

Class

Erethran Honor Guard

Race

Human (Male)

Level

22

Titles

Monster’s Bane, Redeemer of the Dead

Health

1070

Stamina

1070

Mana

840

Mana Regeneration

70 / minute

Attributes

Strength

66

Agility

102

Constitution

107

Perception

42

Intelligence

84

Willpower

90

Charisma

16

Luck

20

Class Skills

Mana Blade

1

Blade Strike

2

Thousand Steps

1

Altered Space

1

Two are One

1

The Body’s Resolve

1

Greater Detection

1

Instantaneous Inventory*

1

Cleave*

1

Spells

Improved Minor Healing (II)

Greater Regeneration

Improved Mana Dart (IV)

Tinder

Enhanced Lightning Strike

I nod slightly, glancing over the basic screen. Got to let Ali know to add a section about Resistances to this, but it looks a heck of a lot neater without my Skills. They were cluttering it up, and like Ali said, what’s the point of listing them? I can either do it or not.

Mental note—time to purchase another area effect spell that isn’t Lightning. Maybe a Fireball or something like that, though maybe there’s a Skill. Then again, all the really useful Skills are expensive. Not that Spells aren’t either, but didn’t I come along just to watch out for Lana? How the hell did I end up in this situation again?

I glare at Ali who, at least, is helping with the looting and storage of bodies. This is going to take forever, but every single Credit counts.

Chapter 5

It takes me hours to get everything collected and shoved away. Hours of collecting dead bodies and scanning the map to ensure the others are fine. Only once does Ali stop, frowning before he shakes his head. He lets me know, later, that it was just the reserve team being called out to help another group with a larger monster mob than expected. Since the initial party had scouted it out before engaging, it all went pretty smoothly.

By the time I get back, most of the groups have already reported in and the day is coming to an end. Walking without power armor sucks, but at least that gives me time to kill more monsters. I drop Sabre off with Xev, who promises to give me the estimate later. The way Xev says it, I make sure to head to the Shop and the butchers immediately. A few hundred Squirrel corpses and fur and assorted loot drops later, I might have enough for a few days of meals. Gods, that sucked.

As I exit the Shop, I find a golden yellow Yerick waiting for me, the same one that was in Jim’s unfortunate team. Standing just under nine feet tall, he wears a bulky armored vest along with a simple, reinforced jumpsuit. Slung over his shoulder is a rifle, and another pistol is strapped to his legs. A series of grenades hang off his belt. Other than the lack of a melee weapon, it’s a pretty typical setup for the Yerick from what I can see.

Aron Hauser (Level 38 Axe Brother)

HP: 1240 / 1240

“Monster’s Bane Lee,” he greets me, bowing slightly. “I am Aron Hauser. I wish to thank you for your aid this day.”

“Not at all.” I flash him a grin then tilt my head. “Jim and the rest okay?”

“Elder Calbery is speaking with Councilor Roth. He requested I pass on his thanks as well.”

“You’re welcome.” I grunt, walking past him.

Aron just nods slightly, watching me stomp off. Thanks. Har. Thanks doesn’t pay my bill with Xev or get me a new bike. Stomping back to the city, I glare around me, headed back to my house.

Grumbling to myself, I find myself staring at my house. No Sabre, not enough Credits to fix her up properly, and no transportation means I’m stuck in Whitehorse for the next few weeks. As much as I love the mecha, getting her fixed is becoming a real drain on my resources each time she gets damaged.

“John! Everything okay?” Richard asks, watching me and the floating, silent Ali.

“Fine. Just fine,” I snarl, not bothering to stop as I head downstairs.

I shut the door, forcing myself not to slam it, before I flop onto my bed. Why the hell did I help them? I glare at the ceiling. Every time I think I’ve contained one problem—the Yerick, the Hakarta, my anger—something else crops up and bites me in the ass.

“Morning, John,” Lana says as I crawl up the stairs the next day.

Mikito and Richard nod to me, tension filling the room. When I choked Minion in public, it was Mikito and Richard who stopped me, rather forcefully. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly in a listening mood. Since then, I’ve been staying away, hiding out in the fort while they lived in my house. I needed time to sort out my brain, my emotions. While we’ve interacted in passing since then, things just haven’t been the same.

“Where’s Rachel?” I tilt my head as I look around the kitchen.

“She, well… she’s with the Brothers of the Wolf,” Richard answers.

Mikito nods, adding another piece of fried fish to her bowl of rice. I sigh and take a seat at the setting that has been laid for me. I nod in thanks as Lana drops a stack of pancakes on my plate before taking a seat herself.

Lana smiles slightly, stretching and making my gaze shift to her ample rack before she continues. “I heard you had some trouble yesterday.”

“Not me. Jim,” I reply around a mouthful.

“Really? I heard you had to walk home,” Lana replies, her face perfectly serene.

“Sabre was damaged.” My eyes narrow as I dump more maple syrup on the pancakes. I could almost feel bad about how well we eat compared to the general population, but we do pay for this food ourselves. Most of us spend our days working to get additional food and Credits for the city—so spending our own money on luxuries shouldn’t feel wrong, right? Right.

“Mmmm… so, trouble.” Lana sips on juice before she continues. “And someone was worried about me.”

I sigh, finally catching on. “All this was to say ‘I told you so’?”

Lana smiles innocently, slowly cutting apart her own pancake. “I never said those words.”

“Uh huh.” I grunt, and a part of me wants to point out she’d have been in as much trouble as Jim was if she had been the one fighting the Lightning Squirrels. A wiser part of me makes me focus on my own breakfast. Some things, you just don’t say.

As I chew my next bite, I see Mikito smiling slightly while Richard pays way too much attention to Shadow. I sigh, deciding to not engage further as Lana finishes her breakfast.

As I finally finish eating, Ali pops into existence next to me. “So, boy-o, where to next?”

“John?” Richard butts in, leaning forward. “We could use your help. There’s a monster lair we’d like to clear out.”

I grunt and shake my head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

Mikito opens her mouth then shuts it, staring at me before she sighs and grabs her naginata. Richard nods as well, following Mikito out. I watch them leave, a part of me wondering if they’re going to try to take on a lair all by themselves.

“You going to cold-shoulder them forever?” Lana asks as she puts the plates away, leaning against the counter.

“What?”

“You know what.” She points at me. “You need a ride and you’re refusing to go with them? For what? Your pride?”

“I’d rather hunt by myself,” I mutter, not meeting her eyes. “They’re doing well enough without me. I like hunting alone.”

Lana uncrosses her arms, shaking her head. “Well enough? Rachel left because of you. Richard and Mikito have been grabbing whoever is free whenever they can, working what they can, when they can. They aren’t leveling up that well because of that.” I keep staring at my empty plate and Lana sighs, shaking her head. “You could just admit you’re still pissed at them you know.”

“I’m not,” I protest, looking at her again, my anger flaring.

“Really?” Lana crosses her arms, staring at me before shaking her head. “Fine. You stubborn idiot.”

“I am not.” I watch her leave, and I sigh. At some point, there’s a conversation we have to have. But I think we both know it’s one that can’t be taken back. I shake my head, dismissing the thought, and I look at Ali. “I’m not being stubborn. I like hunting alone.”

“Uh huh. Right. Sure.” Ali nods. “Let’s head south. Records indicate that it hasn’t been swept in a few weeks. If we move fast, we should be able to break out into a higher-level zone too.”

“Gotcha.”

The first couple of hours are easy. I turn on Thousand Steps the moment I break into the tree line at the back of the house, moving from one blip to the next. None of the monsters are hard; in fact, they’re so easy it’s trivial. Alpine forest filled with aspen, pine, and fir has mutated under the influence of Mana. Some just grew stronger and harder. Other trees grew new defenses—a silvery sheen on one, spikes on another, pollen that’s acidic or toxic, fruits that are now edible. I dodge the dangers I know of, breathe deeply when I can, and make note of new changes absently. The forest changes, just like the rest of the Territory, and all that we can do is wait for everything to settle and change with it.

Moving in a zig-zag pattern, I end up spending more time than I’d prefer in the lower level zone around Whitehorse. I’ll have to ask Ali to run the numbers later and see if it’s worth the time compared to what I can get dealing with higher-level monsters.

Monster zones aren’t particularly steady, especially in a burgeoning Dungeon World. They’re more a guide than a rule, which is why when I hit the Level 30+ zone, I slow down. You never know when you’ll run into a truly nasty monster out here, and without Sabre, I’m not entirely confident I can take on anything above Level 50 without getting seriously hurt. Sure, we heal after a few minutes, but you try having your guts torn out repeatedly and tell me you want to sign up for it on an on-going basis.

Without Sabre, all I’ve got for protection is a simple armored coveralls that might soak up incidental damage but not much else. That means that when I fight, I can’t just bullrush into danger and let the mecha soak up the damage while I hammer away at the monsters. Instead, I have to fight like Mikito—working on positions, dodging, and striking only when it’s safe to do so. It slows down fights and forces me to use a lot more Mana to heal when I inevitably get hit. Worst, since I’m fighting alone, I can’t afford to let my Mana drain completely in case I run into something nasty, so I end up doing more rest stops.

Funny thing is that the drop in mobility is the least of my concerns. Sure, in mecha mode I could run through the forest at a slightly higher speed due to the increased attributes, but it’s not that much different these days. When I first bought the personal assault vehicle, the boost in attributes by itself made the purchase well worth it. At that time, it added anywhere from a third to half again to my physical stats, making me stronger and faster when I desperately needed every edge I could get. These days, the boost is much less, though even a ten percent increase is nothing to sneeze at. And while in bike mode, I can cover a lot more ground a lot faster. I long ago stopped working easily accessible hiking trails, preferring to head into the untamed wilderness. Lots more monsters out there since there are fewer hunters.

In the end, all my concerns about dangerous monsters are for nothing. I don’t run into anything out of my level, and while today’s hunt is slower than previous ones, I don’t run into anything that gives me too much trouble. I admit, it’s a bit of a cheat when you can sense and track monsters before they can see you, especially when you can take them out at range.

When I get back, it’s around four in the afternoon and the only reason I’ve called it a day is because I’m out of space. I have trouble just leaving corpses around and not dragging the bodies back for processing. It’s not as if the many, many, many new bugs, pests, and other vermin don’t clean up those bodies within days, but just leaving the bodies seems wasteful. It’s not an entirely rational viewpoint since the Credits I gain from doing so won’t make a dent, but there it is.

In Whitehorse, I head straight to the butchering yard, then I go to the Shop to sell my System Loot. As I exit the Shop, I find myself overtaken by a man dressed in clothing two sizes too large. The man is hunched over, his fists curled up and his face scrunched as he strides right past me. I have to jerk to a stop so that I don’t run him over, and I almost call out to berate him when something makes me stop. I frown, staring after him as a sixth sense nags at me. Something. Something is wrong and I work on pinning what it is down.

I look closer as he walks right down the street to a new store finally realizing what it is. His right hand—it’s larger than his left because it’s curled up around a grenade.

I shout at him, but he’s already throwing the grenade into the store, screaming, “I warned you!”

I flick on a Thousand Steps as I sprint toward him, my head turning to see who is within the store. I see the storekeeper, and without thought, I activate my other Skill—Two are One. She’s staring with a dumbfounded expression when the grenade explodes, cutting off my line of sight in an explosion of flame and glass. My body feels as though it’s being roasted alive in a sudden flash of heat that cuts right through my coveralls before the explosion itself reaches me, throwing me back.

I have to pick myself off the ground, my pain already receding. The attacker is rolling on the ground from the backblast, and the storekeeper, despite my Two are One skill, is dead. I force myself to take in the injured who were caught in the explosion, and I stagger over to the first injured body I can reach, casting my Minor Healing Spell.

It takes a surprisingly short time for things to calm down. A nearby mage throws a raincloud into the burning store while her neighbors fix the walls leading to their stores by purchasing upgrades in the Shop itself. Bodies are either healed by spells or mend on their own, and the survivors stagger away. The attacker is hustled off into Roxley’s domain by a pair of silver-and-gray-clad guards. Fred Curteneau, our erstwhile mayor, pops out of the Council building to talk to people for a few minutes, walking around and glad-handing people with that big, oily smile of his. Somehow, people find it comforting. They set to work sweeping up the mess of glass and steel from the road, then it’s over. At least for most people.

“Amelia?” I walk over as one of the guards bags the storekeeper’s body under her directions.

“John.” The ex-constable nods to me, a hand on a wide hip. She’s wearing her RCMP uniform again, though it looks to have been let out to accommodate growth in her shoulders. Amelia’s voice is cool and professional, but there’s a tightness in her eyes. I don’t envy her. She’s the only human in Roxley’s guard and as such, takes all the flack that we throw at him on her shoulders.

“What the hell happened?” I look into the remains of the store, shaking my head.

She purses her lips, shaking it after a moment. “I cannot comment on an on-going investigation.”

“What investigation? I saw it. A whole group of us saw him throw the grenade. He murdered her!” I snap, temper flaring.

“John, I can’t talk about it,” she snaps, and Vir materializes at my side.

The entire “looming to intimidate” thing never really worked on me, not even pre-System when I was a good four inches shorter than most Westerners. Now that we’re nearly the same height, it really doesn’t work. I return the black-skinned, white-haired dark Elf’s glare.

Amelia snaps, “There are rules, damn it. I know all of you people think there aren’t, but the rules are in place for a reason.”

“All of us people?” I snarl, my hand clenching. Sure, ever since I got the genome treatment I look more Keanu Reeves than Jet Li, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten the barbs and screamed insults over the course of my life. Not that I’ve forgotten being told to go home to China, even if I grew up in Vancouver.

“Hunters,” Amelia says, pointing a finger at me. “All of you, walking around with your weapons and powers, thinking you’ve got it all figured out. There are rules, and I’ll be damned if I’m bending them to just satisfy your curiosity.”

“Give it up, boy-o, she’s got a job to do,” Ali interjects.

I grit my teeth and look between the pair before finally jerkily nodding acceptance. What can I do? Beat them up for not answering my question? I walk away, snarling to myself, questions unanswered. What the hell was that all about?

“He wanted his store back,” Lana fills me in later that evening. I caught her in the backyard, playing with her furry friends, and prodded her for information while children laughed and played in the living room. “His family owned the store pre-System. Then, well, Holly bought the store from the System and set up shop. He wanted her out, said she didn’t have the right to it. She refused. The guards had been called in before and sided with her…”

“And he killed her for that?” I mutter.

Lana snorts, burying her face in the dog. “You tried to kill Eric.”

Rufus whines slightly, feeling Lana’s tension, and the puppy turns in her hands to lick at her face.

“I… I might have,” I admit, shaking my head slowly. I had my reasons, but so had he probably. We’re all under so much stress, and everything that we knew is gone. “Shit.”

“Yes,” Lana replies and hugs Rufus. She lets the silence linger as I stew on the parallels. In the end, she speaks again, her voice low. “It’s not the only case like this. Not like this, like this, but similar. People moving into houses that aren’t theirs. People taking cars from lots and having them fixed up. The workers at the brewery getting upset because we don’t hire them because we don’t need them.”

“I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Bad? That’s the easy stuff. Who owns what, that’s easy!” She laughs, slightly hysterically. “We have kids who don’t have parents, parents who don’t have kids. We have fathers who won’t pay or help take care of their kids. We’ve got assholes who decide that because they’ve got combat classes, they’re important now. They start throwing their weight around, acting like big shots. And because everyone—everyone—who is important is out hunting, they are big shots.

“You know why we opened the brewery? Do you?” She twists her hand slightly, pulling out a small ampule that she hands to me. “Aarak Blood. The best high in the System for us humans. Better than meth supposedly. We had people buying this and giving it out because there was no more alcohol. And they took it because they needed something to get their minds off this life. So instead we opened up the brewery and let them get drunk. That was a fun conversation to have with Jim.”

“What’s Roxley doing about all this?” I say, frowning.

“Roxley? Nothing. He’s letting us humans sort out human problems, or so says Vir. Except when someone gets his guards involved. And then the troublemakers end up getting fined. Fined!” She shakes her head. “It’s as if everything is about Credits to him.”

I shake my head, trying to understand why Roxley would do that. It didn’t mesh with the man I remembered. Not knowing what else to say, I murmur, “Sorry.”

“No, I am. You don’t need this. It’s not your job, not your thing, right?” Lana rubs her face, wiping away the tears.

“Lana…”

“It’s okay. This isn’t your city. It isn’t your problem. Just… thank you for listening.” She stands, pulling Rufus with her as she walks away.

I open my mouth then shut it again, watching her leave. She’s right—I left. I purposely chose not to get involved, not to be part of this. Hell, I’m playing both sides of the equation with the Hakarta just to see what the hell might happen. It was a choice, so now I don’t get to bitch about it.

“Ali?” I stare into the distance, absently stroking one of the huskies, who has taken to lying next to me.

“Yeah, boy-o?”

“Is it all like this?”

“Mmmm… you mean the other cities?” He shakes his head, holding up a hand. “No. You guys are lucky. For definitions of luck. Most places don’t have enough people to have a functioning government, never mind worrying about things like who owns what. The big cities were hit harder than anyone else. No one got Perks or any other bonuses, so they had no way to fight back. They also got a slew of higher-level monsters. And you know that monsters level up too? Yeah, guess what killing hundreds, thousands of humans did to even low-level monsters.

“You guys were lucky Roxley came along and brought his guards. Lucky that the System decided to put a Shop right here. You might be losing a few people here and there, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the tens or hundreds you have.”

I grimace, nodding slowly. “Are we the only big organized group left?”

“Get over yourself, will you? Of course not.” Ali rolls his eyes. “There were a few armies that were out in the field, training or fighting with their weapons fully loaded. There are towns that have managed to survive and hold on, like Carcross. And Roxley isn’t unique either. Quite a few others jumped on the chance to buy up small towns and villages and play lord.

“Truth is, take a city like New York, add all the survivors together, and you’d still have a bigger population than you have here. Just that, so far, they’re scattered. Give them a bit of time and you guys will just be another small, remote group.”

I grunt, smiling slightly. That’s good. That’s very good. “Do you have a number?”

“Of?”

“Survivors.”

“Twelve percent or so.” I flinch, and Ali sighs. “Some places, some cities, they weren’t that lucky when the System hit. Santiago disappeared when an Air Elemental sucked up all the Mana and air in the region. Bangalore had a swarm of Liminir Locusts, flesh-eating insects that get into everything. New Orleans was flooded when a Leviathan surfaced nearby and got shot at by the navy. As I said, you got lucky.”

I twitch, eyes going glassy as I imagine what it’d be like in any of those cities. Gods. “Lucky.”

Chapter 6

I hold up the claw I took from a mutated wolverine and another from a Crilik shifter, comparing them and my soulbound sword laid out before me. I extend my senses to feel the Mana they contain, staring at them in silence. I’ve been doing this for the last few hours and I can finally, finally sense the differences, the way the Mana changes.

I slowly put down the Crilik shifter’s claw and pick up a discarded armor plate from Sabre, one that had a hole punched through it earlier. Gently, I feel for the Mana that imbues it, then I bring the wolverine claw into contact.

There. Right there. Just at the edges of my senses, where the two make contact, I can feel the way the claw’s Mana and the armor’s interact, pushing against one another instead of melding. I shove harder, feeling the minute changes until the claw cracks, splintering under the pressure. I grunt, discarding the broken claw and picking up the shifters.

Again, I work slowly, adding pressure, but almost immediately, I can feel the difference. The Crilik shifter’s claw has a significantly denser Mana signature, and as I press it into the armor, it punches a hole almost immediately, the denser Mana signature pushing against the weaker signature in the armor.

At the same time, I feel the electromagnetic force of the armor change. Mana that is absorbed by the claw directly weakens the bonds of the armor, making it easier for the claw to punch through. When I repeat the experiment with my sword, it slides through the armor the easiest, shaving off bits with almost no effort.

When I’m finally done, I stand up and stretch out of pure habit. I hate to say it, but Manbun—Aiden—had a point. It’s all about perception, and that damn hipster/hippy wannabe has a better idea of it than anyone else in the city. Everyone, everything around us is permeated with Mana. The higher the level of a creature or thing, the higher the density of Mana it carries. We all interact with Mana regularly, shaping it to our wills even when we aren’t actively thinking about it. It’s why we don’t break doorknobs with a touch, why a giant can walk across a wooden bridge that isn’t rated for its weight, or why when I run, I can gain the speeds I do without tearing giant divots in the ground.

We reshape the Mana around us and use it to make the world fit our preconceived notions. The Classes and Skills we use are just a shortcut that the System offers, a set of buttons for the monkeys to press to make Mana work for them—but if you want, if you put the work in, you can directly influence Mana itself. That’s what most Class-enabled, non-affinity mages do, even if they don’t realize it. The ones with an elemental affinity manipulate the element itself instead, which is a whole different can of worms. I haven’t figured that one out yet properly, though I’m making slow gains.

Grinning, I stretch and pull up my notifications, which I’ve had minimized till now.

Skill Increase

Mana Manipulation Level 4!

Skill Acquired

Mana Sense (Level 1)

The ability to sense Mana in people and objects is extremely important for mages and Mana users. Current range is limited to touch and will expand on training.

Quest Update—the System

You’ve taken another step in understanding the secrets of the System by expanding on your ability to sense Mana.

Reward: +500 XP

All right, enough lounging about staring at my abilities. Even if the Hakarta aren’t expecting me to provide anything new anytime soon, I’m going to have to come up with something. I’m not entirely sure “humans are being humans and hurting one another” is going to cut it. At the very least, I should be out hunting.

Not that I’m going to be hunting, at least not today. Jogging over the bridge that connects the suburb of Riverdale to Whitehorse, I glance at the clock in my peripheral vision and put on a little burst of speed. I’m late. Not that I’ve ever seen them leave on time, but it’s still unprofessional.

Unsurprisingly, when I get to Main Street, the trucks and cars that make up the caravan to Carcross is still getting itself put together. I’m not the only one who’s late. Jason spots me almost immediately, waving me to the front, and I jog over to him, nodding a greeting.

“You can relax, they’re still in the meeting.” Jason waves toward the Elijah Smith Building that the remainder of our local government has moved into. The squat, gray building stares onto Main Street itself, opposite the towering monstrosity that makes up the System-designated City Center and Roxley’s offices.

“Morning, squirt,” Ali greets Jason, who snorts.

“Morning, jumpsuit,” Jason retorts then offers me a piece of dried fruit.

Taking the fruit, I take a seat next to the teenager. “You got kicked out?”

“Never invited.” Jason rolls his eyes. “I’m too young to be of use in the negotiations. It’s fine for me to fight monsters, train the adults, and walk the walls, but sit in a negotiation about our city? Too young!”

“Isn’t that the way,” I sympathize, glancing back at the building. “What were you guys negotiating anyway? I never got the full story.”

“Huh,” Jason says. “As I understand it, Whitehorse wants us to stop taking in so many immigrants. Particularly their crafters. They’ve also been pretty unhappy with the loot we’re purchasing from their hunters direct. Or the goods we’re bringing in for resale.”

I frown, noting how it’s all things that Whitehorse wants. “What do you get for this?”

“Food. Credits. More security.” Jason shrugs. “Whitehorse has an actual working farm, something we don’t. We’re still importing a bunch of food to keep everyone fed, so getting a surplus would be good. And we wouldn’t mind more hunters working the area around Carcross. We’ve still got to keep half of our hunters on the wall.”

I nod slightly, sighing. “You guys still intent on sticking it out?”

“Uh huh.” Jason lowers his voice, murmuring, “I don’t get how you people live here without a safe zone. At least when I’m home, I know I’m safe. I keep looking over my shoulder for trouble when I’m in Whitehorse.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “It’s not so bad. The guards are always dispatched to potential spawns before they actually come through, so we just have to worry about the spontaneous evolutions.”

“Still, gives me the creeps,” Jason replies. “Anyway, they’ve been talking about it for the last few days, but they should have been done already. I guess there’s always something new.”

“Old. Something old in this case,” Elder Andrea Badger replies, stomping forward. The old First Nation’s lady and titular Mayor of Carcross walks up to us, greeting Ali and me with a smile. “Bureaucracy kept us up. However, the forms are all signed now.”

Jason shrugs before jumping up and waving to everyone. Once he gets their attention, he points at the cars before clambering into his car without waiting for the others. Behind him, the constable rolls his eyes, calling out orders to get everyone moving. I open the door for the elder before heading to my seat in the front. Time to babysit the children.

The trip back is relatively uneventful. More monsters than normal—six groups to be exact, but Jason, Mike, and I tear through them like hot knife through butter. Gadsby still likes getting in close and pounding on them with his truncheon, though he seems to have picked up an upgrade that fires bolts of pure Mana into bigger and nastier monsters. Jason keeps things simple, casting bolts of plasma and ice to rip holes into monsters. Myself? I switch tactics, of course—beam rifle for soft, simple targets and the sword for harder things.

I’m not entirely sure why they even bothered to hire me—the pair of them are more than enough for the monsters we meet, and the additional hunters aren’t exactly sitting around doing crossword puzzles. Unfortunately, I’m not seated next to the elder or else I’d ask her why they bothered.

When we roll into the city, I get a quick notification that the quest is completed. Carcross hasn’t changed much since I last came here—the improvised wall is now less improvised and an actual constructed wall with watchtowers and automated sensors set up throughout. I know the wall is just the most visible of the town’s defenses—multiple shield defenses are active and ready, protecting against ground and air infiltration. There are numerous pits and even a few automated gun stands, all waiting to be activated. In fact, I’d say Carcross is better defended than Whitehorse. They certainly have more firepower packed in than we do.

Every single-story building in Carcross is System-enabled by now, and the elder waves goodbye to me before heading for the Cultural Center and headquarters. Gadsby follows her to report in, and Jason gets dragged away by a cute blonde almost immediately, leaving me alone among strangers. Except the citizens of Carcross aren’t exactly strangers, not anymore. A fact that I’m reminded of as I’m dragged into the mess hall for a late lunch.

As Ali and I sit around, drinking and eating and chatting with the locals, I wonder if this is Andrea’s play. Reminding me that the people of Carcross are still here, still around, still friends. I laugh at a joke as I finish off my latest bowl of stew and glance at Ali then at the time. Well, it’s only three o’clock and Jason did say they had a problem with monsters around the city. No reason not to do a little hunting out here.

Waving goodbye to the group and declining offers of help, I get Ali to show me the latest known monster groups on the map. Time to go kill something. I’ll head back to Whitehorse tomorrow.

Life has fallen into a routine since my talk with Lana—I wake up, I meditate, I train for a few hours, sometimes by myself, sometimes with Mikito or Richard and his pets. Training together, we’re slowly breaking down that wall we put up between us. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing and holding a grudge over the fact that I nearly killed Minion is just silly.

After training, it’s always hunting, working to keep the monster population down and gain further experience and Credits to fix Sabre. Putting the mecha back together—or better than it was—is expensive. Without Sabre, I spend a portion of each day just getting to appropriately leveled locations, but at least I’m getting a decent Skill in running. I keep going till late at night or my Altered Space is filled, whichever comes first, then I head into Whitehorse and do a quick dump. If it’s still early enough, I’m out again to hunt.

Being in Whitehorse, I start seeing the things Lana spoke of and some that she didn’t. The bulletin board of the missing always seems to have just a few new faces as people disappear into the woods. Or the corpses of those who don’t even bother going that far, leaving their bodies in the shelters for others to dispose of. People who have just given up, who can no longer handle this new world.

Then there’s the lazy, the incompetent, and the cheats who refuse to help out, living off the largesse of everyone else. I see the occasional fist fights, the shouting matches that Amelia and the other guards have to put a stop to. No surprise there’s more than a little resentment over the lack of help.

The City Council has even gone as far as creating their own court system, overseen by one over-worked ex-judge. He does his best to mediate issues among the population. He tackles everything from ownership and living arrangements, custody battles between families, to figuring out foster care situations for those who need it. Once in a while, he even has to deal with real crimes—theft, a few rapes, beatings, and shakedowns that escape the attention of Roxley’s guards or are just never brought to their attention.

Most of all, worst of all, is the way those with combat classes and everyone else are segregating into the haves and have-nots. The tensions just get worse and worse as the stores that open cater mostly to the combat classers. No big surprise, they’re the only ones with any Credit. Everyone else is busy saving up to buy their own place to live, to get a little bit more food or other necessities. That doesn’t stop people from resenting the combat classers or their fortune.

There’s nothing I can do about it. Not really. So I just go out and do my thing—fighting and killing and attempting to save enough Credits to finally fix up Sabre. Which means killing this ugly bastard.

Mountain Troll (Level 52)

HP: 3580/3580

This monster is over ten feet tall, rocky gray, and covered with warts. An extra-long nose and a hunched back, along with a rocky club, complete the ensemble. After hunting them for the last few days, I now know more about Troll physiology than I ever want to —including why they’re so angry all the time. I’d be angry too if I was that lacking in that department.

My first shot takes it in the right knee, the second its left. I keep crouched after crippling the creature, my beam rifle blasting open and searing wounds closed as I get to work killing it. The monster is tough though, its resistances to energy significantly reducing the damage I’m dishing out, and its natural regeneration fixes my initial onslaught.

As the troll lurches toward me on all fours, it picks up real speed and I flick the rifle back into my inventory. Hands free, I cast my Improved Mana Dart spell, creating four glowing blue darts that shoot forward as I flick my hand at the creature. I grin wolfishly as the Troll staggers, its resistances utterly useless against the Mana Darts.

I summon another four and repeat the process, doing so two more times before I charge to meet it face to face. As we close, I use Blade Strike to catch the monster before he can reach me, then I duck beneath the first swing, slicing upward with my sword and shearing through muscle. I spin around as we cross each other’s path, laying its back open before the Troll can turn, then I kick it away from me. Now with enough space, I focus on Cleave and swing down with full force, the sword picking up a red-and-blue glow that sheathes the blade. The cut takes the creature straight on, opening it from shoulder to hip. Before it can recover, I swing again and trigger Cleave once more, leaving a giant bloody X on the Troll’s body.

It’s not enough to kill it though, and the Troll swings its club, using the momentum from my attack to smash into my leg. Only a last-minute move keeps my knee from shattering, but I end up on the ground, kicking up dirt as I slide a good ten feet. I bite my lip, a rush of pure adrenaline shooting through my body. Gods, but I love fighting.

When the Troll closes in on me and starts its swing down, I call forth my sword and make sure it’s right where the Troll’s arm will be, letting it impale itself on my sword. I leave the blade in its arm, kicking on its knee to push myself away and give me momentum. I roll to my feet just before I charge it.

Our next clash is very different since I stop trying to overpower it, instead dancing around the creature. All those hours training and fighting has helped me develop an innate understanding of combat that the System download didn’t impart. I turn aside blows, dodge under or around them, and always, always chip away at its health. Whenever I have a moment, I throw another set of Mana Darts into its face. In the end, the Troll falls over, dead as can be.

Breathing hard, I chop the head off the monster just in case and kick the body once more. I loot it then dump the body back into my Altered Space before slowly stretching and waiting for the broken ribs to heal fully. Pain and adrenaline, my constant companions these days. I find myself grinning, knowing that this Troll finished the Quest I’ve been running for Sally. Seems like Troll Blood is in high-demand among alchemists.

In the distance, I see something white against the clear blue sky. As first I think it’s just a cloud, but something tells me to look closer.

Ali, drawn by my focused attention, follows my gaze then yelps. “Hide!”

I move, months of constant danger making me duck toward the nearest tree and shrink down as tight as I can get. When I’m as hidden as I’m going to get, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Dragon.”

“Shit.” I reach out mentally for the QSM before Ali growls at me.

“Don’t. It’ll attract his attention. They can see between dimensions.”

My eyes widen. That’s the first I’ve ever heard of something being able to do that naturally. I slowly poke my head around the corner as I hit the magnification in my helmet. The dragon jumps in size, pure white with an elongated neck and wings that triple its width. Above its head floats its status bar.

Dragon (Level ???)

HP: ???/???

“Ali? Shouldn’t it be a winter dragon or something?”

“That’s all the information I have, boy-o. Way too high level for me to extract information from the System.”

“What’s it doing here?” Hell, I knew we were in a high-level zone, but this area isn’t that bad…

“Best guess? It’s probably hunting. I doubt the Kluane Icefields are that populated yet.”

I wince, nodding slowly. It makes sense that the Icefields would have something truly nasty there—it was the largest icefield in the world outside of the poles. But does it have to go hunting while I’m around?

I curl down further and get ready to wait. At least it’s not likely to have seen me, being as far away as it is. It does remind me how big a gap there is, between the true Powers of this world and piddly little beginners like me.

Hours later, the dragon has gone and I’m jogging back from the east on the other side of the river, having decided to take the long way round just in case. I shake my head as I consider how easy it would be for the monsters to run into Riverdale itself. As a suburb of Whitehorse, there’s no wall, no good way to stop anyone from just walking in. It’s why there are checkpoints at the bridges and the roads entering the city. Still, if we ever got hit by a swarm, those who live in Riverdale would be in real trouble.

Crossing the bridge, I absently nod to the fishermen who line the path to Sally’s. At her shop, I find an attendant watching over the front, and when I make myself known, I’m ushered into the backroom where Sally keeps her workshop. It only takes a few seconds for the four-foot-tall Gnome to string up the entire Troll and plug in various tubes to begin the draining process. When that’s done, she flashes me a grin and I get my notification.

Quest Complete (Troll’s Blood)

Retrieve 40 Liters of Troll’s Blood for Sally

Rewards: 2 Tier II Health Regeneration Potions, 2 Tier II Mana Regeneration Potions, 2,000 XP

“Thank you. Any other requests?” I ask.

She snorts, shaking her head. “Not until you upgrade your herb lore, you big lug.” Sally waggles her finger at me, eyes twinkling. “I still don’t believe you brought back Jarsik Weed.”

“It looked exactly like what you asked for!” I protest.

“If you are blind and stupid, sure.”

I roll my eyes and admit defeat. Seriously, it looked exactly the same. Though truth be told, I’m okay not playing gardener. The one day I spent poking around looking for herbs for Sally was an utter waste of time. Nearly ninety percent of what I brought back was useless, which meant I didn’t even get halfway to completing her Quest. I could buy the skill in the Shop, but really, I’d rather just kill something. “Fine. Call me if you need anything killed.”

She grins, pushing me out. “Out, I got work to do!”

My next stop is the butchering yard, where I drop the last of my day’s earnings. As I make my way down the street afterward, I notice a commotion at the entrance to the city council’s offices. I push my way through the crowd, picking up scattered words. Luthien’s back.

I almost walk away when I hear my ex’s name, but after a moment’s hesitation, I push forward. I might not want to see her, but the Raven’s Circle was our highest leveled group before they left for Dawson. Something had happened on the trip there and what should have been a couple of days away had become weeks.

“Jim?” I catch the eye of the hunter as he glares at everyone milling around, his presence sufficient to keep most back.

The older First Nation gentleman’s face is lined even further than normal, his dark eyes filled with worry as he shifts, still clad in his hunting gear. It’s a mix of old and new, a simple one-piece nano-woven jumpsuit with armor plating at appropriate locations, covered by a gray hunting vest for additional weaponry and gear, and his favored rifle and knife at his side. Pretty standard fare for the combat classes these days.

“John,” the elder answers, and at my raised eyebrow, he beckons me over.

I see a few people glare at me, but I ignore it. It’s good to have a few favors owed. “Luthien’s back?”

“Yes.” Jim frowns at the group that surrounds us, waiting to hear something. He seems to debate saying more before he continues. “Seven people came back. Four strangers and three of the Circle.”

“Who?” I say softly, knowing that at least Nic is dead. His house stopped being a Safe Zone about three days after they left, which is when we knew for sure something had gone wrong.

“Luthien, Kevin, and Tim.” Before I can ask, he adds. “The other four, that’s all that’s left of Dawson.”

The words are like a punch to the gut of those who hear him. Those in the front of the group fall silent, only answering those behind after repeated requests. The words spread like wildfire, reactions wild and varied. Some nod, accepting what they probably feared. Others deny the words and get angry, while others break down crying.

Including the Circle, eleven people left to visit Dawson and see what good they could do. The Circle had asked for volunteers and some—the brave and the desperate—joined them. Eleven people left and only three of ours came back. My lips purse and Jim meets my gaze, obviously having done the math himself. This is the kind of trade-off we feared. Worst, we had lost two of our highest level fighters in this stupid expedition, all because the damn woman wanted to show off again.

As I draw in a deep breath, forcing down the anger, the door opens. I turn to look and spot a man I’ve never seen before stride out as if he owns it all. A good 6’4”, middle-aged with a strong jaw and a brown, crewcut hairstyle, he’s handsome in a “human” way, someone you’d see walking down the street rather than in the movies. Ali frowns slightly, twitching his hand as the man appears, and information blooms above his head.

Bill Cross (Level 46 Enforcer)

HP: 1400/1400

Interesting Class. Behind him, a familiar face. Luthien—my ex—walks behind him, just a little too close. Tall, thin, blond, and pretty with pointy ears, she strides out and I spot more than one admiring gaze roam over her body. I almost want to wave and shout “Run, run for your life,” but that’s a touch too dramatic. And petty. Luthien’s clad in tight leather pants and a corset-like armor piece that covers her upper body quite well.

Luthien Celbrindal (Level 38 Sorceress)

HP: 540/540

My eyes narrow, lips tightening as I scan the rest of the group as they come out. People make way, pushing back to let the newcomers exit while Jim and I are forgotten. The entire group has incredibly high levels, all in the high 30s or low 40s. As Kevin and Tim bring up the back of the line, I can’t help but notice their slumped shoulders, tight lips, and hangdog expressions, along with the slight hesitation in their steps. There’s a distance between Kevin and Luthien that wasn’t there before they left. I almost think the man might be smarting up enough to realize how dangerous a relationship with her is. Almost. As Tim clears the doorway, I hear more than a few drawn breaths as people spot his half-dragon form. I’d almost forgotten he had his race changed—he’s been gone so long.

“Where’s everyone else?” a voice calls out from the crowd when no more people exit.

The crowd stills for an answer, hoping against hope.

“I’m sorry. We’re all that’s left of Dawson,” Bill says, his voice clear and loud. “We’re all that survived, and if the Circle hadn’t come, we’d be dead too.”

Murmurs run through the crowd, a few people peeling away.

“I don’t believe you! My son was in Dawson. He wouldn’t die,” a woman screams, pushing to the front of the crowd.

“I don’t lie. There’s no one left alive in Dawson.” Bill glares at the woman for a moment before he shakes his head, the glare disappearing. “I’m sorry, but they’re all dead. The monsters, we couldn’t fight them all.”

The woman screams a denial then launches herself at Bill, fingers curled into claws that she swings at his face. Before she can reach him, Luthien raises a hand and bonds of air grip the woman, holding her in place as she screams and struggles. Ugly sounds come from the crowd before the guards led by Amelia arrive.

“That’s it, everyone. Show’s over. Time to get going.” Amelia grabs and pushes people away, as do the other guards, all of them radiating a subtle menace that I recognize as a Skill.

Many of the people grabbed protest then see the look in the Truinnar guards’ eyes and shudder before moving off. The crowd disperses quickly with the guards there. Jim taps Luthien’s arm, gesturing to the distraught mother. Sniffing in disdain, Luthien flicks her hand and the woman collapses into Jim’s waiting hands. She struggles for a moment, but as he continues to hug her, she stills, finally just crying.

“Nice town,” Bill drawls softly to his group, probably thinking no one can hear him in the commotion.

Standing next to the wall, unmoving and forgotten, I do. A few of the group titter while Tim shifts uncomfortably before he pushes away to walk up the street.

“Tim!” Kevin says, moving to grab his friend.

“Let him go,” Bill barks, shaking his head. “We don’t need weaklings like him.”

Luthien nods firmly when Kevin hesitates, biting his lip. When her boyfriend finally turns aside, Bill smiles at Luthien, who preens slightly. It’s so subtle, someone who wasn’t watching for it and who didn’t know her would never see.

Oh, you poor bastard. For a moment, I almost pity Kevin. Almost. When the crowd has dispersed enough, Bill leads the group off, stopping only long enough to speak with Amelia to thank her before they head out.

Well, this is going to be interesting.

Chapter 7

As momentous as the news about Dawson City was, life settled back into the norm soon enough. Bill and his group moved into the Circle’s old house, repurchasing the house from the System with little fanfare. Since then, they’ve made themselves scarce in terms of their interaction with the local population. Outside of hitting the Shops and occasionally the Nugget, the group seems to be focused on hunting and leveling. Of course, I hear there’s a little tension there since they refuse to bring back food for the pot and deal directly with the low-level Alchemists and Sally when they have parts to sell. As I understand it, Fred was rebuffed when he tried to talk to them about helping out the City. Seems like the time it takes to drag back corpses isn’t worth the payout. That does at least explain their levels somewhat. If they’re focusing only on leveling, it’s no surprise that they’re slightly higher than most of us.

Truth be told, I can see the appeal. Go out, kill, level. It’s the only way to stay safe, to be safe. Strength is power and safety in this world, and strength comes from Credits and Levels. At least, that’s what more and more hunters are saying. Goodwill gets you only so far, and the hunters under Jim have started fracturing, some following the Circle’s example and refusing to hunt for the pot anymore. Many point out that there’s more than enough food these days, pointing to the stores of meat and vegetables as the farms come in. The Council’s charts and explanations get thrown by the wayside—the simple fact that they can see the stores are more convincing proof to them. Anyway, they know the City could just buy more food from the Shop directly if they needed it.

When I see the Council individually or in a group, I almost pity them. The strain is beginning to show, the pressures of keeping the city together beginning to pull them apart. More and more people are blaming the Council as monsters continue to spawn in the town, even if we aren’t losing people to those attacks anymore. More and more people are wondering why they’re being asked to contribute Credits when they see so little results.

Through all this, Roxley stays hidden in his offices. No one sees him, no one speaks to him. The Yerick and his guards bear the brunt of the growing animosity, the glares and the whispered insults. Still, no one takes direct action as the threat of being sold into debt slavery keeps people in line. For now, anyway.

As I enter the Nugget, I find it filled with Adventurers and Crafters kicking back after a hard day’s work. Looking around, I spot Lana, Mikito, Amelia, and a few others sitting together. Ali floats alongside me, ogling the waitresses, as I walk up to the table.

“John,” Lana says, flashing me a smile.

“Ladies…” I blink, realizing that the entire group is made up of women. Oh. Right, not joining them then. “Just thought I’d say hi.”

“Good evening,” Mikito adds as I beat a hasty retreat.

There’s only a single table left, way too big for me alone, but what the hell, it is what it is. I grab a seat facing the doorway, and Ali plops down next to me. Out of idle curiosity, I glance over the group again.

“So, Lana, you … sleeping together yet?” Amelia says, her head turned just enough that I can lipread her. I almost feel guilty about intruding, but curiosity keeps me looking.

“No.” Lana shakes her head, emphasizing her answer. “I told you, we’re not like that.”

“Why not? We all know you … the hots for him. Not … it. I mean, he’s … looking but he’s so angry all the …” Amelia says, her hair occasionally sliding across her face and blocking my line of sight.

“Is he ever,” Mikito mutters. “I think he likes being angry.”

“There’s no future for us. One day he’s going to leave, even if he doesn’t realize it yet,” Lana says, shaking her head.

“…” another girl interjects and the group laughs.

My eyes narrow as I wonder what was said, and when Lana begins to speak, my line of sight is blocked by a large armored form. I snarl slightly, looking up and up and up before I meet the placid gaze of the ten-foot-tall Yerick leader.

“First Fist,” I say, plastering a smile on my face.

“Redeemer. Will you allow us to join you?” He gestures to the table and benches and I look around, realizing that there are no seats anywhere else.

I nod, and Capstan takes a seat in front of me, permanently blocking my view of the ladies. His party mates join him, and I suddenly feel rather crowded among the large and slightly musty-smelling aliens.

“First Fist, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Ali hugs his beer mug to his body.

“We are celebrating this day and were informed that the Nugget carries a passable alcohol for our purposes.” Capstan glances at his companions before waving to them. “Redeemer, may I introduce my companions—Aron Hauser, Nelia Renar, and Tahar Ocasio.”

Aron, of course, is the Minotaur fighter who was with Jim. Nelia I’ve seen before, a Level 48 Shaman Truthseeker—whatever that is—and Tahar seems to be another generic Yerick Adventurer.

I greet them in turn before I ask the obvious question, “What celebration?”

“What drink?” Ali adds.

Ali’s question is answered when the waitress comes over with a dark, almost black liquid in mugs the size of a pitcher. Even from my seat, I can smell the alcohol in them.

“Good gods,” I mutter, leaning back a bit. Sure, the beer I drink really doesn’t do anything for me with my Constitution, but that’s for the best. Being drunk in an unsecure city seems like a bad, bad idea. “What is that?”

“Your brewery calls it Apocalypse Ale,” Capstan says, pushing a mug to each of his companions. “It is decently strong.”

“And the celebration?” I ask as Ali floats over to a waitress to order an ale for himself. I watch the waitress nod before letting my gaze flick to the other tables. We’re getting more than one nasty look, but no one feels the need to start a fight they’ll lose.

“We completed a dungeon!” Aron butts in, grinning as he leans forward. “Level 35 and up!”

Capstan nods while keeping a straight face, though I can tell he’s quite proud of the group. The robed and hooded Nelia nods as well.

As Ali floats back with his mug in hand, I pick up my own. “Well, congratulations then!” They stare at my glass that I hold in the air before I chuckle a bit awkwardly. Right, culture. “Uhh… humans normally drink after the congratulations.”

The Yerick look at one another then simultaneously pick up their drinks, quaffing them without hesitation, followed by Ali and myself.

“A strange custom. Yerick prefer to enjoy their drink,” Tahar speaks for once, looking morosely at his empty glass.

“I’ll remember that.” I’m saved from more embarrassment as the waitresses bring dinner out at last. Capstan makes a face at the food laid out before me. “Problem?”

“No,” Capstan replies immediately, shaking his head while Tahar keeps his head down.

“Yerick don’t eat meat, boy-o.” Ali shakes his head. “You’d think you’d know that, what with them looking like cows.”

“We are not cows,” Aron snarls. He immediately subsides when Capstan gives him a look.

“Ali didn’t mean that.” I glare at the Spirit stealing a fry from one of my plates.

“Yeah, yeah. So you guys cleared a dungeon, eh? We did one too, a month and a half back. Boy-o lost his mojo though when he lost his bike,” Ali adds, and I grunt, shaking my head.

“You cleared a dungeon by yourself?” Capstan says.

“Just a Level 20 one,” I say. “I’ve run into a few locations since then, but I got run out of one and another, well, I figured I’d test it out soon.”

“Really?” Capstan leans forward. “Would you care to trade on the locations? Unexplored Dungeons are quite important.”

I stare at them for a moment, my lip pulling up slightly into a smile. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“This is the dungeon you cleared, eh?” I look at the large building in the abandoned village the next day, frowning. Unlike most of the other buildings around here, this one looks to be in pretty good repair. “It doesn’t look that big.”

“It isn’t out here,” Capstan answers me, rotating broad shoulders as he adjusts his gear. “You stay in the back. Use your Spells and rifle and watch our backs. Nelia is our mage and healer, so she’ll be ahead of you and backing us all up. The three of us, well, we’ll be in front.”

I nod and turn to look for Ali. The Spirit floats in mid-air, staring at the abandoned buildings. I let my gaze wander over the remnants of the small community, a place where a hundred or so might have lived before the System. Happily, I guess, or at least as happily as you could be in a place like this. There aren’t that many corpses around, just a few scattered bones, broken-down houses and cars. All of it abandoned and slowly being overrun. A part of me wonders if I could find more corpses if I looked for them. Most of me decides against looking.

“You good, boy-o?” Ali asks and points toward where the others are already entering.

“Let’s go,” I reply, following the Yerick.

When you think dungeon, you think stone walls or caverns or maybe a castle. What you don’t expect is an old office building that stretches on and on, hallways that lead to rooms that loop around back to the hallway, never seeming to end. Off-white walls with fluorescent lights that work without electricity, lighting everything just a little off. It’s a weird reminder that the System doesn’t necessarily line up with our expectations.

No traps in this dungeon but golems, lots and lots of golems. Humanoid, bipedal constructs that totter forward, raining energy beams and fire on us, occasionally interspersing the attacks with more exotic weaponry like sonic grenades or ice darts.

The Yerick plow forward through the attacks using portable shields, firing from under the cover of the glowing blue domes. Aron and Tahar lead the charge with wrist-mounted beam weaponry till they’re close enough to engage the creatures in melee. Capstan uses a rifle behind them, ignoring the occasional shot that gets past the shields and picking off those behind us. Nelia in her robes does little, occasionally casting a healing spell or a weird web-spell that constricts and slows the monsters. The team is a well-oiled machine, each of them covering for the other with a minimum of words and confusion. I don’t even bother attempting to shoot past them, knowing that I’m as likely to hit a friendly as a monster.

Instead, I keep an eye on the back and deal with the occasional Golem that pops up behind us. Blade, rifle, and spells are more than enough to deal with the threats, especially since their flanking attacks are limited.

I have more than enough time to muse, being safely ensconced in the back as I am. More than enough time to think about the peculiarities of character builds and team tactics. In a “traditional” multi-player game, every character gets a Class and that Class generally has a role. Tank, damage dealer, healer, crowd control. More complicated pen-and-paper role-playing games added less direct combat-oriented Classes like the Bard. Everyone specialized because you had to, that’s what the game required.

Of course, most of those games were set in a fantasy world. Modern-day combat stopped having people carry around melee weapons because a spear isn’t much use against cannonballs and muskets smashing into your ranks, killing and wounding before you could near your opponent. Machine guns that threw hundreds of rounds a second meant that rushing an entrenched position led to thousands of casualties.

All that reasoning seems to kind of go out the window in System reality, as I told Jason months ago. Classes are given, and at first glance, it seems you should specialize and become a fighter, a healer, a mage. But none of that matters since you can purchase nearly anything in the System, including Class Skills. You can and probably should become a jack-of-all-trades with a minor specialization in your original Class. Watching the Yerick fight, that seems to be the preferred method among them at least. Probably a good idea to have everyone dabble a little bit. After all, you don’t want to get caught out if your only healer goes down or your only ranged fighter dies.

On the other hand, armor and shields soak up a bunch of ranged attack damage in the System, even if they don’t stop the damage entirely. Every single person is a moving tank with the right kind of equipment and Skills. The Yerick cover ground quickly, ensuring that they bring their physical strength to bear in any encounter, using melee weapons that deal as much, if not more, damage as beam weaponry. Take the shots, deal a little damage on the way in, then get close and rip them apart while the healer/mage keeps your health up and ensures you aren’t too overworked. I do wonder what it’d be like if they met a sentient group willing to run away as much as they were willing to charge. Would it just be a giant running battle?

Hours later, Capstan holds up a hand as the last Golem falls in the room we’re exploring. The others turn to him, and he makes a few gestures with the same hand. The group quickly splits up and sets small boxes in front of the doorways. After a moment, the boxes glow green and the Yerick relax, grinning.

“Portable shield generators. More powerful than the personal ones the Yerick use but with a lot less time on the clock. They have an in-built alarm and scanner, so if something tries to come through, they’ll activate.” Ali yawns. “You bored as I am?”

“No.” I join the Yerick as they sit on the floor, pulling cubes of green and brown paste from their inventory. “Lunch?”

“Yes. We are two thirds of the way through the dungeon, I believe,” Capstan replies, nodding. “Single floor, but long, as you can tell.”

“Yeah.” I grimace and sit down, tapping my helmet to make it fold down and free me to breathe unencumbered. “Where do the Golems come from? They aren’t evolutions from Earth for sure.”

“Probably a template somewhere. Maybe in the ground, maybe in a wall. The System diverts the Mana in the dungeon to the template to create the golems. Each golem birthed this way requires Mana, which is the main reason dungeons are created.” Capstan pops open the cap of his green paste. “Leave it alone long enough and they’ll spill out, but most dungeon-born monsters prefer to stay in the dungeons they were created in.”

“That’s the prevailing theory of dungeons anyway,” Ali sends to me as he fishes out some soggy fish and chips from my Altered Space. My nose wrinkles slightly at the smell, but he doesn’t seem to care about it.

I nod slowly as I suck on the all-in-one meal I brought for my lunch. It’s edible—sort of like apple sauce, just a little grainier. I figured the Yerick would prefer if I kept my meat eating down around them, though Ali of course doesn’t give a damn. “So what about the Alphas? The Bosses?”

“If a monster group has an Alpha, the System creates an Alpha because that’s what the monster group should have,” Aron answers, looking at me as if I’m stupid. “Why would the System change what works?”

I open my mouth to retort, but Ali adds, “It’s a safeguard too. Alphas and Bosses require more Mana, so in a golem dungeon like this, the Boss is just a monster that’s had more Mana diverted into it. You can’t do that too much to normal monsters or they go pop, so only a few special ones can be Bosses. The System has to do it because the Mana flow isn’t even. It’s more like waves in the ocean. If there’s a surge, it needs a place to dump.”

“That… makes sense.” I switch over to some juice, staring at the doorway as the group continues to chew placidly on their food. “I don’t understand why the System wants to deal with Mana that way though.”

“8Ink,” Nelia says.

“Gesundheit.”

“It’s an old story, idiot,” Ali says.

“Sad story,” Capstan says.

“Stupid,” Aron adds.

“Still not explaining,” I grumble.

“When the System came to 8Ink, the ambassador let the inhabitants of the world know. The inhabitants were supposedly a psionic race, an empathic one. They decided, as a world, to reject the System. When the System came, none chose to interact with it. No one leveled, no one used Mana. So the Mana kept pooling and pooling and pooling. The Council tried to divert the Mana elsewhere, but back then, we only had four Dungeon Worlds. It wasn’t possible to get rid of enough of it,” Capstan says. “Eventually, well, the Mana density became too much and even the sentient inhabitants started transforming, evolving. Still, they refused to interact. Eventually, the entire world evolved.”

“So’s Earth,” I point out, tossing my used meal into my inventory.

“Not like… the entire world evolved. 8Ink became a World Titan,” Nelia clarifies.

I wince. Oh, shit. “What…?”

“It got up and flew away. Records of where it went and what it’s doing have been lost. Some say hidden,” Tahar says, sudden passion entering his voice. “8Ink’s return is quite a popular branch of fiction. If you want, I have a few books on me.”

Aron rolls his eyes while Ali actually nods in excitement. Aron lets out a low huff of exasperation while Nelia and Capstan go back to eating, waiting for me to continue.

“Let me get this straight. Too much Mana means giant Elementals. To stop that, the System puts Mana into monsters it stores away? Isn’t killing a monster then releasing the Mana?” I ask.

“No.” Nelia shakes her head, glitter-decorated horns flashing in fluorescent light. “Some Mana goes back into the environment, but… the System uses a lot. Mana is necessary for the Loot, for our experience, for running the…?”

“System,” Capstan finishes for Nelia absently, filling in when the mage falls silent.

Brows furrowed, I puzzle through it. “If you could do all that, why bother with all the intervening steps? Why not just convert the Mana straight away?”

“Why do you think it’s a Quest, John? If we had the answer to that, the Quest would have been complete,” Ali says mockingly.

Capstan and the others nod as Capstan stands. “Do not chase that Quest, Redeemer. It leads nowhere and the rewards decrease as you journey along the path. Gravity pulls you down, the axe hungers for blood, and the System is the System.”

As the group gets ready to get going, Aron and Tahar grabbing the portal shield generators, I sigh and put that question away again. Ali smirks at me then flicks a finger, sending a window to fill my vision.

Quest Update—the System

The creation of Dungeons and Mana are important for the Quest, but why? You have found some answers, but more questions.

Reward: +200 XP

Yeah, yeah, I got it. What is, is. Better to go and kill something.

“Uhh… was he that big before?” I whisper to the Yerick as we huddle around the corner from the doorway.

“No. This might be… interesting,” Capstan says and I stare at him. Really?

I poke my head around the corner again, getting a hiss from Nelia as I do so, but I need to see our opponent again to get my head around this. The Golem boss doesn’t look any different from its brethren really. Bipedal with two heads and four arms, each wielding a combination rifle and fist with a metallic exterior. Sure, it’s green, which is rather unique, but the bigger surprise is that it’s twenty-five feet tall.

Golem Arcana (Boss Level 42)

HP: 7420/7420

“Also, boy-o, it’s an It,” Ali adds. “You’re such a misogynist.”

“Ali,” I snarl, temper flaring.

Capstan claps me on the shoulder, hissing at me. I blush slightly, somewhat embarrassed at my outburst. Right, we’re trying to come up with a plan.

“Spirit, is the creature vulnerable to anything?” Capstan asks.

Ali stares into space, his little fingers waggling. “Water.”

Aron whispers to Nelia, “Told you you should have gotten another Ice spell. No, you had to go with Fireball.”

Nelia growls at Aron while Capstan and Tahar look at me.

I open my hands, shaking my head. “Nothing useful. I could hit it with Lightning, but that jumps around. I have Mana Dart…”

Aron rolls his eyes, and Tahar snorts dismissively. Fine, fine. It’s the lowest-level combat spell out there, and even improved, it’s still not particularly impressive. Personally, I think if I can improve it to send out dozens of those darts, it’d be amazing.

Capstan stays silent, scratching his arm as he stares into the distance. “We will need to stay close. The fists are dangerous, but the beam weapons are more so. Nelia will attempt to disable the upper left arm. I shall take the upper right. Redeemer, you must take the lower left. Aron and Tahar will take the last. Disable, then help the others. And then we kill it.”

The three Yerick twist and jerk their heads in unison in their traditional yes while I nod.

“Nelia, you will begin. May the herd watch over us.” Capstan stands, unslinging his axe for once.

The other pair get ready, their breathing increasing in speed slightly as they pump themselves up. I quietly activate Thousand Steps, figuring we could use the extra speed, and call forth my sword.

Nelia steps out past the door as she calls her spell into being. It takes longer than it usually does, a giant ritual circle of glowing blue lines and symbols appearing behind her as she builds and shapes her spell, Glacial Wall. Unfortunately, the Golem isn’t waiting for her to finish and is already turning, raising its arms.

The boys dash off to the right, opening up their beam weapons while Capstan steps up to Nelia’s side. I’m running to the left, cutting outward with my Skill and sending a Blade Slash directly to my assigned arm, watching as the glowing blue curl of Mana impact and create a small diagonal tear in the metal. Crap—the damage from my attack doesn’t even budge its health meter.

As the Golem lets loose with all four of its beam weapons aimed at Nelia, Capstan raises his axe, which bursts into flames. As he swings down, the flames erupt and spiral forward to meet the beams. Defying logic, they clash with the incoming energy and stop it. A part of me is sitting in a corner of my mind, pointing out that energy does not get stopped by shooting flames! Physics does not work that way. The rest of me is too busy lashing out with the Blade Strike in an attempt to disable the cannon.

When the beams stop firing, so does Capstan. In the brief moment of silence, Nelia finishes her spell and it comes into existence in a stream of cold energy from the symbol, enveloping the monster’s arm and coating it in ice. The monster attempts to raise its arm, and with a creak, the entire arm breaks off, falling to the floor and shattering.

Unfortunately, I’m running right into that mess. I have to spend the next few seconds ducking and covering up from the shards of metal and ice that fly all around me. The Yerick throw up their force shields, taking the shards directly to close in on their arm. When I’ve got a moment, I throw up my hand and throw a few Mana Darts at the creature as I regain my footing, swearing under my breath.

“Can you see this? Or this? Or this?” Ali taunts the Golem, ducking back and forth in front of the creature as he partly blocks the monster’s view.

That lasts only long enough for the Golem Boss to decide to do something about Ali, its eyes glowing and sending a pair of blasts. Ali yelps when he gets caught by the edge of one of those blasts, his body smoking. After that, he pays more attention, but his distraction lets us get in close.

For the next few minutes, things are hectic. I catch glimpses of what’s happening on the other side—Capstan jumping into the air and bringing his axe down on an arm, shearing halfway through it, Aron grabbing the attacking arm that misses him by inches and holding it steady as Tahar takes his Warhammer to the elbow joint. The damn Golem has no problem focusing on multiple attackers at the same time, so we’re all fighting our own battles. I find myself with little time to worry about the others though. The problem isn’t that the target is hard to hit, it’s that it’s so big and well-armored, I need to keep hitting the same location in the hope of cutting through.

Capstan takes his arm down next, then a short while later, the third one the boys are dealing with goes. As I finally lodge my sword in a joint and get ready to trigger Blade Strike, I find myself staggering at a sudden change of direction. The blade gets pulled down with the rest of the arm, the Golem having ejected its arms as it retreats. A few minutes later, its body opens and dozens of beam weapons appear across its torso before it opens fire again.

Caught in mid-charge, we’re taken by surprise. Capstan is targeted by over half of the beams and is blown into the ground, flesh sizzling and hair burning. The other Yerick get their shields up in time, but they have to hunch over to protect themselves. As for me, I manage to get out of the main line of fire and only eat about a third of what it aims at me. Flesh cooks off, bones heat up, and most of my armor gets chewed through. I grit my teeth, pain shooting through my body as I roll on the ground to get away.

“John, Nelia!” Ali shouts.

I stagger to my feet facing her and see the woman on the ground, whimpering with smoke rising from her body. Even as I watch, another beam targets her prone body, intent on ending her. Not again!

I snap a hand out, casting Two are One on her and taking a portion of her damage. Unfortunately, getting distracted in the middle of the fight means I get shot too. Beams that initially missed me find their target now. I sink to the ground, pain filling my existence as the damage accumulates even through my resistances. I focus, casting Greater Regeneration on myself to buy Nelia and me some more time.

The shots cut off suddenly as a bestial roar and a resounding clang occur in short order. The clanging happens again and again, and I slowly force myself to stand up as the Golem is knocked off its feet.

“Heal Nelia!” Capstan barks at me as he runs forward, smoke still rising from his body.

He jumps into the air, fire enveloping his entire body as he accelerates down onto the prone Golem. At its feet, Tahar is swinging away at a joint. That’s all I have time to see before my lurching, smoking form reaches Nelia’s still body, a Healing Spell ready in my hand.

Even as the spell wraps around Nelia’s body, I’m stabbing a syringe filled with an immediate healing potion into her neck. Her health bar inches up under both effects and I drag her into the hallway and out of the battle. Safe, I inject her with a health regeneration potion that will heal her over time before I duck back in just enough to see what’s happening inside.

The battle is nearly over. Capstan is halfway into the Golem’s body, tearing larger and larger holes in its torso, still filled with that boiling red mist, with his axe. Crouched next to him is the blond fur of Aron as he leans into the open cavity, pulling out gears and cogs with his bare hands. Beneath, at the Boss’s feet, Tahar has pulverized a knee and is working on the other one. With a final ear-wrenching squeal, the Golem stops moving. I exhale in relief, turning back to make sure Nelia is alive.

Gods, that was close. I can’t help the smile that plasters itself on my face as the adrenaline slowly subsides and I help Nelia slowly make her way into the cavern. There’s nothing like fighting for your life. Seeing Aron stand on the body of the fallen Golem and crowing about his victory and seeing Tahar’s wide grin, I can’t help but think I’m not the only one. The Yerick look worse for wear, their armor burnt and torn, flesh devoid of fur, and giant holes in the body showcasing slowly regenerating wounds.

“Thank you,” Nelia murmurs to me as she slowly pulls herself straight. “What was that you cast?”

“Skill.” I flash her a grin. “It’s called Two are One. Lets me take some of the damage.”

“Can you split it across multiple people?” Nelia asks, her eyes gleaming.

I pause, thinking about it. “Not sure. I’ve never tried it actually.”

“Well, if you can...”

I wait for a moment before realizing that she’s forgotten about what she had to say. I shrug, dismissing it as I just can’t be bothered with that train of thought right now.

“So what’s the loot?” I ask when we finally reach the rest of the group.

Ali is silent, floating above the Boss and frowning before he twitches a hand, making the Golem’s entire body flash. When the flash subsides, parts of it glow. Oooh, that’s a new trick.

Capstan flashes me a smile, his prodigious regeneration already replacing burnt and damaged skin and fur as he walks to the body. “Let’s see.”

Hauling the Golems’ bodies back to town is a bitch of a job. It takes hours to grab and drag all the various pieces and parts to the hover-truck. I get more than one jealous glance as I make entire Golem bodies drop into my Altered Space. I still grab and haul bodies of course, though the Yerick boys generally haul about half of what I do. Pretty damn impressive considering my own Strength stat.

When we get back into Whitehorse, we catch more than a few curious looks. Not every day you see Yerick with a bunch of their fur burnt off and missing most of their armor. Xev chitters angrily when we arrive, staring at the giant mess of metal and wires that we drop in its yard before it skitters around the pile, muttering to itself. After a time, it looks at us and orders us out, promising to send a full accounting later. None of us feel particularly up to arguing, so we do as it says.

After a quick visit to the Shop to split our profits, we convene in the Nugget for dinner and drinks. Thus far, I’ve yet to be invited into their compound, but I can live with that. The Nugget’s more my speed, even if the Yerick find it slightly small for their taste.

We’re mostly done dinner, the pub filled to bursting, when trouble starts. An inebriated hunter stalks over to us, stopping a short distance away to glare at the group. The Yerick ignore him so I do too.

He shouts, “Get out!”

I tilt my head, shifting in my chair as I consider the slightly weaving, plaid-wearing xenophobe. The Yerick continue to ignore him, sipping on their drinks, though they’ve stopped discussing the dungeon run.

“You deaf as well as ugly? I said get out. We don’t want you fucking aliens here. This is a good human establishment,” the man shouts again.

My hand clenches slightly, but Capstan just shakes his head.

“You—”

“You will get out,” Lana says, her voice cutting across his, perfectly calm and quiet but somehow piercing. Stupid looks at her, mouth opening, before she continues. “Henry, you’re not welcome here anymore.”

“Lana.” Stupid’s voice is ugly, filled with hate, as he steps into her space. Lana doesn’t back down, though her nose wrinkles as his spittle and hot breath blows in her face. “You meddling bitch. You’ve got no place telling me what to do.”

“Actually, I do. I’m the owner here, and you’re not welcome. Now go,” Lana says again, her gaze turning even colder.

Stupid snarls, grabbing Lana’s upper arm to make his point. Instead of reacting physically, Lana’s face flushes slightly. Something changes in the blink of an eye as the friendly, personable, and beautiful young woman disappears entirely. Her hair seems to darken, becoming a blood red that is not entirely natural. Those violet eyes that are almost impossible to see in that color shift to a brilliant purple as her skin becomes fairer and closer to marble. More, there’s a palpable sense of danger coming from her now. Stupid whitens, his hand falling away as his jaw drops. Behind Lana, a waitress drops a tray, and nearby patrons shrink back in their seat.

Aura of the Red Queen Resisted.

Capstan lets out a low growl of approval while the other Yerick shrink back like the rest of the pub. Nelia’s face tightens before she straightens, obviously fighting and winning against the Aura.

“Out,” Lana says again, her voice a whisper that rings through the silence in the pub.

Stupid lets out a low whimper, frozen in space. Suddenly Lana steps back. The acrid smell of fresh urine reaches my nose a moment later. I have to hide a grin as Lana’s face twists in disgust, Stupid still frozen in place.

“Oh god, you did not pee yourself!” Ali laughs, obviously not affected.

I stand up, grab Stupid by the arm, and lead the unresisting man out. At the door, I shove him slightly to send him sprawling onto the ground. His friends follow him quickly, shooting fearful glances back at the young lady who continues to dominate the pub. Once they’re gone, Lana shuts off the Aura and sighs, directing one of the waitresses to clean up the new mess.

Lana walks up to me and touches my arm, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Though you might consider being a little lighter on your touch next time.” I chuckle. “Unless you like having Health & Safety get upset with you.”

“No such thing anymore,” Lana says. “I don’t have a lot of opportunities to practice using the Skill anyway.”

“Was that a Class Skill? Never seen Richard use it,” I ask.

“No. Shop bought. Watching Roxley, well, it gave me the idea,” she explains, smiling slightly. “It’s been useful.”

“I bet.” I smile slightly, noting that she hasn’t moved her hand as yet.

She catches my glance and flushes, dropping her hand to the side. “I should talk to the others.”

“Yeah.” I nod, watching her step away. I shake my head after a moment, smiling slightly as I walk back to the table. Surprises everywhere.

“Your mate is interesting,” Aron says, nodding toward Lana. “Few Adventurers bother with such extravagant Skills.”

“Lana’s not my mate. Or an Adventurer.”

“My apologies,” Aron says, shaking his head. “The mating rituals of other cultures are difficult to understand at times. Even with purchased knowledge.”

“We don’t call it mating here,” I point out.

“In John’s case, it definitely isn’t mating. Or dating. Or anything,” Ali chimes in.

“It is a pity she is not…” Nelia adds from the side, pushing aside the last of the nachos she ordered. “She has the heart of one. More than some of your...”

“Adventurers,” Capstan fills in after the silence lingers.

I grunt, shaking my head. “Don’t tell Jim that.”

“Of course not,” Nelia replies, aggrieved.

As I open my mouth to apologize, Capstan adds, “We should go. Nelia and I have duties in the clan, and Aron and Tahar must ensure our equipment is ready for tomorrow.”

I nod. “Tomorrow then. I’ll lead you guys through the dungeon I cleared. Should be very simple, so we should check out the other monster lair too.”

Capstan nods agreeably as his team quaffs their drinks. I watch them leave quietly, smiling slightly. Well, clearing dungeons with this team should be easy.

“The Minotaur was right, she was very impressive,” Bill says, interrupting my thoughts.

I look the man over then flick my gaze to Luthien and the raven-haired female who accompanies him. Ali floats back from outside, having finished heckling the poor hunter, and he sniffs as he notes Luthien.

Getting no answer from me, Bill sticks out his hand. “I’m Bill. We haven’t met yet, but I thought we should talk.”

“Oh?” I glance at his hand then nod to him, not releasing the grip on my pint of beer.

“John, you can be polite!” Luthien snaps.

“Toots, why don’t you take your skanky-ass back to your man?” Ali says before I can say anything. “Looks like you still haven’t told him you’re rubbing naughty bits with this guy, so perhaps it’s time to do that?”

Luthien snarls, raising a hand to blast Ali, but he just smirks at her.

Bill doesn’t even twitch, staring at me. “John, you should control your fairy. Accusations like that could get him hurt.”

“Go ahead.” I wave, leaning back and smiling slightly.

“What?”

“Go ahead and beat him,” I clarify, gesturing to the smirking Spirit. “He deserves it.”

“Hey! I’m helping here,” Ali says, spinning to look at me. The backhand that sails through his body, thrown ever so casually by Bill, makes Ali stick out his tongue at him.

“I see,” Bill says.

“I know something that will hurt!” Luthien smiles viciously, pulling a dark cloud into her hand.

“No fighting in the pub,” Lana snaps as she strides over, glaring at the group.

Bill shoots Luthien a look, and she subsides, her lips curling up as Lana approaches.

“Thanks, Lana. At least someone appreciates me,” Ali says.

“Ali, shut up.” Lana glares around the group. “Now, will you all calm down? Or do I have to kick you out too so I can have an evening of peace?”

“Can it, Ali, she’s not kidding,” I send to Ali.

He thinks back, “No shit. I’m not the one who doesn’t understand women here.”

Gritting my teeth, I raise my glass to my lips while Bill speaks. “My apologies. We were just here to speak, peaceably, with John.”

“About what?” Lana says, foot tapping.

“Oh, just the city. I was led to believe he and I might have something in common.” Bill continues to smile at Lana, facing the redhead fully.

“Well, do it quietly.” Lana casts a worried look at me then at Luthien before she walks away.

“So, John, are you working with the Minotaurs at this time?” Bill says.

“Yerick. And yes,” I say, deciding that answering might be the fastest way to get rid of him.

“Oh God, you going PC on me now?” Luthien mutters, rolling her eyes.

For a moment, I wonder what the hell I saw in her. She was always biting about people being careful about terminology. After all, they just needed to grow thicker skin! I have to admit, I never said a thing, never objected or argued with her about how words can grate on you, chip away at your ego and control. How simple insults, delivered dozens, hundreds of times can get under your skin until even casual, non-vicious use can anger you. I should have said something. Could have. I stare at her then smile. All right then, if they want to underestimate the Yerick, they can.

“Interesting. Will you be partying with them for a while?” Bill says, brows furrowing as I smile at Luthien, who looks puzzled at my reaction.

“What’s it to you?” I tilt my head, leaning back in my seat.

“Nothing at this time. I feel like you and I might have something in common. You do not suffer the fools on the Council, like I do. You’ve also gained in power outside of their silly rules,” Bill says.

“Thanks, but you’re not my type.”

Bill’s eyes tighten slightly though his lips don’t shift from that smile of his. “May I ask why?”

“Her.” I point at Luthien. “You can go now.”

“Well, that is… unfortunate.” Bill turns and gestures to Luthien, who has a snarl on her face. He grabs her arm, tugging on it as he walks and forces her to walk after him.

My eyes narrow as I read her lips. “I told youso.”

“Yes, you did. I wanted to…”

They’re fully turned away and too far away to catch the rest, so I just watch the trio move away. I frown then look at Ali.

“Do you remember what the third of the group was doing?” I frown, racking my memories.

“No. Hmmm…” Ali frowns, staring into the distance as he accesses the System. After a moment, he lets out a low hiss. “Right, she’s a spy or rogue or assassin of some form. Data’s entirely hidden in the System. Pretty sure she’s got a Skill that makes you forget about her.”

“Interesting.” I grimace, watching the trio sit down at their table. Very, very interesting.

Chapter 8

“You need to make your motions even smaller,” Mikito says as I groan, rotating my shoulder after our latest sparring match.

In terms of raw speed, I actually am faster than her these days. The problem is, she’s got at least a Master’s level of Skill and years of experience dueling humanoids and learning to move her body. I still have a tendency to make too large a motion, especially when I make my sword disappear, the shift in weight throwing my body off. Between that and smart positioning on her part, most of my attacks have to cover more ground than hers, allowing her to hit me more often than I do her. Good thing I have a lot more health than she does.

“Easier said than done.” I eye her naginata. “Am I wrong or is that thing hitting harder?”

Mikito hugs the naginata, glaring at me as I speak so casually of her prized possession. “It is. It gained a new Skill.”

“Your weapon got a Skill?” My jaw drops.

Mikito smiles, the coldness dropping off her face for a moment as she looks at the weapon lovingly and caresses the haft. “Yes.”

I’d call her attachment to it weird except I know that the weapon is the last gift from her husband, his sacrifice of his Perk to give her a chance to survive. “Is it Leveling?”

She nods slightly.

Ali zips over, his eyes wide as we speak, and hovers next to her. “You got to be shitting me, girlie. You mean your boytoy got you a linked weapon?”

“Linked?”

“It levels every time you level,” Ali explains.

“No. It levels over time after use,” Mikito replies.

Ali’s jaw drops. He moves to hover near the weapon, a hand held out but not touching. “May I?”

For a long moment, Mikito hesitates before she nods, offering the weapon to Ali. He doesn’t take it, instead flying low to touch the weapon. After a moment, I see Mikito’s eyes focus just in front of her face before she taps on the screen. The moment she does, information blooms in front of me.

Tier II Polearm (Hitoshi)

Base Damage: 94

Durability: 750/750

Special Abilities: Soul Drinker (Level 3), Armor Piercing (Level 1)

“Soul Drinker?” I cough. “That’s not at all ominous. Not one bit.”

“Oh, stop being a whiny baby,” Ali says, rolling his eyes. “Some overly melodramatic idiot decided to translate it as that. It just means that Hitoshi over there can Level the more it gets used.”

“Why is it only Level 3?”

“Don’t think of its levels like your sword. It isn’t.” Ali lets the weapon go before floating up to Mikito’s face to stare at her, his face utterly serious. “Don’t ever let anyone do that again.”

“Care to explain?” I have an inkling why, but better to be sure.

“Soul Drinker weapons are rare. Many of the most powerful weapons in the System are Soul Drinkers. Gods, you are right—that sounds so fucking pretentious,” Ali grumbles. Mikito clears her throat and Ali sighs, switching back to the topic at hand. “Your sword is soulbound, so it’ll level at the same rate as you do, but in a different way. It’ll get more… swordy. Eventually, it might even get a new ability or two. Uncommon, but not rare. Hitoshi on the other hand will Level like a person. It’ll get Skills, and unlike your sword, it won’t ever disappear. Weapons like these are heirlooms—they grow stronger with each wielder.”

“Is it alive?”

“No. Not yet,” Ali replies immediately. “I’ve heard rumors that at high enough levels, these weapons might gain a personality, but I’ve never met one.”

I nod and Mikito hugs her weapon once again. I have one more question. “Hitoshi—was that the name of your…?”

She shakes her head before she slowly looks up, her answer barely a whisper. “It was what we would have called our son.”

I flinch, looking away, and she steps back too.

Ali just stares at the two of us before snorting. “Right, well, now we know why you hit so damn hard. Keep using it and don’t tell anyone else. Got it?”

Mikito nods, then after a moment, she turns and flees back into the house. I watch her go, breathing slightly easier as the tension eases. I never know what to say to things like that.

I’ve got a day off from dungeoneering today, since the Yerick are busy with some internal issue in their compound. I guess when your party leader is also the leader of the community, you can’t go out killing monsters every day. You have responsibilities that transcend simple leveling.

I don’t, of course. I’m not responsible for anyone but me, which means I get to run around killing things for my pleasure. Okay, that just seems a bit psychotic. Then again, we kind of live in a psychotic world. I could lounge around at home but Lana is always busy and I only spot her in the evenings at best when I finally make my way back. Mikito and Richard are out as always and since the kids no longer need to rely on our house for electricity, we’ve mostly gotten the place back. That leaves sitting at home playing computer games or watching movies, something I used to love doing. Now, between the burbling pit of anger in my stomach and the ever-present sense of doom the System has brought, I can’t sit still.

As I jog through the lower zones around Whitehorse, I dodge around the monsters that pop up. Most don’t even attempt to attack me, hiding from the bigger predator. I’ve got a goal today—check out my fort then do some hunting.

As I pound through the forest, I find myself curious about my companion floating beside me, his eyes locked on an invisible screen in front of him. “What are you watching now?”

“Island Hunters.” Ali shakes his head. “It’s… so strange. It’s strangely addictive. Will they buy this piece of property or this one? Are the granite countertops of this residence worth the trade-off in space? Most importantly, why did you humans spend so much time caring about dumb shit like that?”

“Seriously, why are you obsessed with our TV?” I ask, pausing long enough to lop off the head of a snake-worm creature that pops out of the ground before I continue onward. “And don’t tell me it’s about the tits and ass, because you’re watching house hunting.”

“Research,” Ali says, his face unusually serious. “I’m doing research on you humans.”

“Through reality TV?” I stop and stare at Ali, my eyes wide. “You’re shitting me. Please don’t tell me you think we’re like Jersey Shore or the Real Housewives?”

“Gods, that’d be fabulous. Even better if you were like Queer Eye. At least you’d have a fashion sense. ‘What am I going to wear today? Oh, black. Black. More black!’” Ali says. “I’m a Spirit, boy-o, not stupid.”

“Then why reality TV? Half of it is scripted.”

“Have you ever tried watching a documentary? Trust me, if I’ve got to do research, I might as well be entertained while doing it. Your fictional TV is amusing, but your reality TV is useful.”

“What are you trying to learn?”

“About humans of course.” Ali stops, pointing at a monster in the distance that has spotted us.

I pull up my rifle, and a few moments later, it lies on the ground, smoking.

Before I can walk farther, Ali holds up a hand. “Let’s talk first.”

“Okay.”

“When I was first summoned, I got a basic download of you people. I got to choose my sex and my general appearance. I threw together what you saw while I was nursing a headache, which by the way, isn’t a lot of fun and is rather unique to you humans. My appearance, my body, the knowledge downloaded is what was set up by the System by some hackjob. While I’m not really human, I’m not really what I was—what I am—when I’m not here.”

I nod. I’m not entirely surprised he doesn’t look like a Middle Eastern man when he’s banished. I kind of assumed his appearance was some random generation pulled from my mind, maybe something based off a twisted idea of what a Djinn should look like. It does make me wonder what he really looks like as a Spirit, and for that matter, why they recognized him immediately in the Shop. Questions, questions, questions.

“But in the Shop?” I ask, recalling how they knew who he was when he first went in.

“They recognized my Mana signature. As System-bound Spirit Companions, it’s not unusual for us to change forms. My Mana Signature doesn’t change though,” Ali explains, and I nod. “Here’s the thing. I still have a bunch of your urges and some really, really weird memories and experiences in my head. I mean, shoulder pads and queues?” Ali shakes his head. “On top of that, I’ve got you and all the data you humans are dumping into the System. The better I understand you humans, the better I understand you. The better I understand you, the more likely I can keep you from killing yourself.”

“Almost sounds like you care,” I tease.

“Funny. It’s my job, boy-o.”

“So how’d you get this job anyway? You applied to be a Spirit Companion or…?”

“Not exactly.” Ali frowns, his lips tightening before he blows out a breath in a huff. “Right, well, I’m contracted to be here because I’m indentured to the System for a rather large debt.”

“So you didn’t have a choice?” I frown.

Ali waggles his hand slightly. “Not exactly. I could have done some other things, but being a Companion can be a pretty good-paying gig. Generally we get paid based off how long you survive. As a Linked Companion, my pay scale goes up based on your Level. The longer you stay alive and the higher your level, the more I earn, which means the faster my debt is paid off.”

I nod slowly and wait. He doesn’t say anything more, so I turn, finish looting the corpse, and take it into my Altered Space. I start jogging again and Ali floats alongside, keeping pace easily.

As the silence grows, he finally cracks. “So you’re okay with that?”

“With what?”

“The fact that you’re just a job.”

“I don’t know. It’s nice to know that your motivations are kind of normal, you know? On the other hand, it was kind of nice thinking you were, you know… doing this because you were some System-gifted Companion, my very own Tinker Bell.”

“Tinker Bell?”

“Spirit,” I say, hiding my smile by ducking underneath a tree branch.

“Well, I’m System-bound to not harm you,” Ali points out.

“You’ve mentioned.” I fall silent again, letting my feet carry me deeper into the zone.

Seemingly satisfied, Ali turns back to his viewing.

After a time, I say softly, “You know, it was kind of nice.”

“Not your Tinker Bell.”

“Talking. We don’t do much of that,” I say.

“I take it back. Be less Queer Eye.”

“Asshole.”

The Carcross Cutoff is no different than the last time I was here. I look around the location once more, scratching my chin as I walk through the rooms. I pull a beer from the fridge as I think about what to do. I could upgrade the fort, make it even stronger and more defensible, but that makes no sense. I don’t have the means or the people to take care of the place and really, no desire. A fort, at the end of the day, is a facility for an organization or a city, not a holding for one person. Costs that wouldn’t even be a line-item for a larger organization are a major investment for me.

Looking around the place one last time, I mentally make myself give it up. I’ll pick it up if it’s available, I’ll keep an eye on it, but at the end of the day, it just isn’t for me. Learning to let things go, things that I can’t affect or in the end don’t matter, is important. It’s not an easy thing to do and just saying you intend to do it isn’t really a solution, but it’s the best I can do.

Walking out of the fort, I leave it unlocked. Let someone else struggle for it. It’s time for me to focus on what I can change, what I can affect.

“Ali, map,” I call to the Spirit.

He flicks his hand and I look over the information he’s given me, searching for clusters and Bosses. Mostly to avoid the last, but you never know. Charting my path for the day, I realize I’m going to be closing in on Carcross for the largest and most numerous clusters. They weren’t joking when they said they needed help dealing with the growing monster population.

Well, thinking isn’t going to get me there. One nice thing about the System is that I don’t even have to start at a jog to warm up. So long as I keep an eye on my stamina consumption, I’m good. Slipping into high gear immediately, I run toward the closest dot. Time to go hunting.

“Go right,” Ali says suddenly.

It’s been a couple of hours of hunting and killing, moving from one monster to another, but the urgency in his voice has me perking up. I move automatically, scanning for dangers.

“I’ll patch you in,” he says.

“We need more people over at Wall 2. They won’t stop coming…”

“Jason, marker 3. Ice storm.”

“Autogun 3 is down. I repeat, Autogun 3 is down!”

“If anyone can hear us, please. We need your help!”

Quest received: Save Carcross!

Save the city from the monster swarm. Destroy or drive away the monster swarm before they kill all the survivors in Carcross. Note that experience during this event for monster kills will be reduced.

Reward: 50,000XP(shared)

Type: Unique

The voices cut off in my helmet and I find myself speeding up, going from a fast jog to a full sprint. I turn on Thousand Steps for the speed boost, feeling myself grow just slightly lighter. Faster. I have to get there faster.

“What’s happening?”

“Monster swarm,” Ali says. “Too many Bosses, too many monsters. The lower-level bosses and their kind finally get pushed out and swarm the next zone down. Those monsters then swarm the next one and so forth...”

“So not an attack?” I duck under a pine tree branch, wishing for once that running was easier. Even cutting a straight line and plowing through smaller obstacles, a forested hill isn’t exactly fast running. Then again, maybe I should be glad it isn’t a damn jungle.

“Not a direct attack,” Ali confirms.

I grimace. Well, that’s good, because the swarm of gray, yellow, and green dots is bad enough as it stands. Now that he’s mentioned it, I can see the movement, the way the swarm is packed on one side and more dispersed in others. They’re still attacking, probably because monsters are stupid and aggressive, but they aren’t pressuring the walls in a coordinated maneuver.

“Time,” I growl and Ali lets out a sigh.

A few seconds later, a timer appears in the top right of my heads-up-display in my helmet, counting down how long it’ll take to arrive. Thirty-four minutes and change. That’s an eternity in a fight.

For a time, the fight seems very one-sided. The shields must be holding, the defenders able to pick off and kill monsters without danger. It doesn’t last though. At the nine-minute mark, blue dots, friendlies, flash out at the wall, one by one. I don’t ask for the radio (or whatever they were) transmissions again. I don’t need to hear it—the little dots tell their story more than sufficiently. At five minutes left, the swarm of monster dots suddenly appears behind the now-sparse blue line. The flood of colorful dots stops, frozen and boiling for a minute as more blue dots appear to face the tide, monster dots disappearing to be replaced by ever more. Then a blue dot disappears in the center and the tide floods the streets before they suddenly freeze again at another line.

Two minutes later, I realize that the timer is going to be off. I can’t run in a straight line anymore, can’t afford to completely dodge my attackers. I don’t have time to shoot with my rifle, so I’m cutting at anything that gets close and shooting targets in front of me with my beam pistol. I cut off the Thousand Steps, conserving my Mana because I know I’m going to need it in a second—in fact, I grab a potion out of my inventory and down it to speed up my Mana regeneration. Best to get this going now when I have time.

The second, hastily improvised line breaks, and monster dots flood through the new gaps into the city proper. Ali is floating above me, flying back and forth and drawing attention to create the gaps I need to keep running. Cutting across the corner of the city to get to the break through, I feel my lips pull into a wolfish grin, blood pounding in my ears as adrenaline courses through my body.

Monsters in all shapes and sizes flash by me, most of them, but not all, mutated Earth creatures. A brown pod that travels on a trio of spiky legs rears up, facing me with its single eye that begins to glow. I duck low and slide as it unleashes a beam of fire at where I was. I cut off a leg as I slide pass, my sword sliding through muscle and bone without catching. Once past the monster, I push off and keep running.

I crest a small hill, shoulder-checking the Ice Elk in my way and sending it crashing down among the other monsters, giving myself a moment of peace to evaluate what I see before me. A giant, stone-encrusted Grizzly Bear lies in the breach in the wall, its corpse offering sufficient space for other monsters to scramble into the town. Only the corpse itself stops the swarming, squirming horde from entirely overrunning the town.

“Ali, Lightning Special!” I hold up my hand, summoning my magic.

The little Spirit flies to me, sliding in front of my arm to join hands seconds after my lightning bolt unleashes. As always, I feel the magic change when he joins me, his greater Elemental Affinity enhancing and twisting the lightning bolt I unleash.

This is where the Lightning Strike spell shines. The longer I channel the spell, the more monsters the spell strikes, jumping from monster to monster and spreading out. I sweep my hand from side to side, ensuring that the electricity catches the monsters swarming the walls. Most of them are under Level 20, but their sheer numbers have overwhelmed the defenses.

Dressed in my one-piece armored suit, full-faced helmet on and weapons holstered, I sling lightning like a crazed wizard on crack on the hill, burning through monsters without care about my Mana. Unfortunately, I can only face one direction at a time and that means my back is exposed. I get swarmed in a minute, a striped black-and-white ex-housecat clamping its jaws around my shoulder as a feral wolverine chews on my ankle. I crash into the ground and trigger the QSM, sliding away from the monsters.

I dance aside, firing my pistol into the housecat’s head as I turn off the QSM. Point blank, the pistol burns the monster’s eye away and blinds the other, though the creature continues to thrash around. I kick it away, sending the body sprawling amongst others, where it is torn apart.

Ali is no longer floating, sitting on the ground and panting as a Frost Raven attempts to peck him to death. I take off running, heading into the scorched earth and the gap in the wall. I duck, dodge, and fight my way through the few monsters that still live, racing against the tide to get to the gap before them, ignoring the pain and slowly accumulating injuries as stray spikes, bolts, and other projectiles rain down on me.

I leap onto the bear corpse and run forward to a relatively flat portion of its neck. Ahead of me, more monster corpses. Dozens of them are burnt, frozen, and smashed apart before the second improvised earth wall. Right in front of the wall is a series of all-too-human figures, including Jason’s mom. Dead, holding the tide back for a few minutes. Just a few minutes for her son and her city.

I turn, taking station on the relatively flat portion of the bear’s neck, and call forth my sword before downing a health regeneration potion. I watch as what looks like hundreds of monsters rush forward, all of them coming for the gap and me.

Her life, for a few minutes for others. I stand there, watching the horde come, and I find myself smiling, that sea of rage inside me churning. Time to buy a few more minutes.

A subjective lifetime later, I stand amidst a sea of corpses and blink the sweat out of my eyes. A swipe and my helmet retracts, letting me wipe the sweat away at last. Rage subsides, frenzy ended, and I find myself assaulted by pain. I collapse, hand on the ground as I breathe slowly, the glowing red of my lifebar in the corner of my eyes.

Minutes that seem like hours later, I have enough Mana to cast a healing spell. And then another before I can stand straight. I stare at the shredded pieces of my armor and pull it into my inventory before sliding on a new set of clothing as Gadsby limps over to me. Behind him, his hunting group spreads out to kill the last of the monsters, a pair standing watch over the breach.

“John. Thank God you were here.” He claps me on the shoulder and I wince, feeling the newly healed bone creak in pain. Gadsby flushes slightly then looks at the corpses strewn about, whistling. “Damn, you did one hell of a job.”

“Not me.” I shake my head. “I got here late.” Like you, a snide and vengeful part of my mind adds. Not the truth though—in fact, it was the arrival of Gadsby and his hunting group from outside the city that had finally broken the damn swarm, forcing them to flee. “Most of this was from the defenders.”

“I should check inside,” Gadsby says.

I nod, falling into step with him and heading into town, sword held loosely as I search for stragglers. “Ali, loot please.”

“Oh, great. I get to do all the hard work now,” Ali grumbles but sets to it, flying over to each body and looting it.

We don’t bother with my Altered Space. It was two-thirds full before I got here, and Carcross has its own butchering yard after all. I do pause at the gap to touch the Grizzly, filling the rest of the storage with its body so that we can enter the town easier. Almost as soon as we step in, one of Gadsby’s men casts an Earth Wall spell, filling the gap.

Inside, the town is buzzing with activity. Workers—freed from hiding—move corpses and work to fix the damage, eyes bleak when they come across the infrequent bodies of their protectors. In the crescent where Melissa made her last stand, the corpses are piled thicker. Jason stumbles forward from within the town, rushing over to the pile. He pulls aside his mother’s corpse while Gadsby and I stand there, useless.

“Jason?” Gadsby says and gets no answer. He places a hand on Jason’s shoulder and still gets no response. He tries calling his name again but still getting nothing. Looking up, he casts a worried glance deeper into the town.

“Go. I’ll sit with him,” I tell Mike.

He has other responsibilities after all. Me? I can spend the time watching over the kid. Gadsby nods in thanks before heading into town. Within a few steps, questions are already being called to him as others look to him for leadership. In the relative silence around us, I take a seat on the ground, content to let my body slowly heal.

“I had to do it,” Jason breaks the silence with a whispered confession. “She told me to.”

I glance at him then at the crescent of the earth wall and nod. No surprise that it was their most powerful mage who created their hasty line of defense. “Okay.”

“We’d planned for it. Just in case you know, just because. Well, she was always planning, you know. She said if they ever got through the shield and the wall, we’d need to hold them. Keep them from coming in farther, throw up another wall. Mum knew about my spell, had me test it out once,” he rambles as he stares at his mother, the numerous wounds across her body making it impossible to tell what eventually killed her. “When they were about to break in, she told me she’d be the one to hold it. Told me to do it, so I did. She was supposed to jump out after that. Get away. But they caught her, crippled her. I didn’t have enough Mana. I couldn’t save her.”

I nod dumbly, uncertain of what to say. What can you say? Sorry your mom is dead? Sorry you had to put up a wall behind her and let her die? I don’t know what there is to say, but I have to say something. “She knew the risks.”

“I couldn’t save her.” He sobs, his voice growing strained as he attempts to hold back tears. “I should have saved her.”

“You did your best.”

“It wasn’t good enough,” Jason cries out, shaking his head as he stares at the body, tears flowing. “I screwed up. I couldn’t...”

“You tried.” My heart threatens to break watching him, but I push it aside. No time, not now. I squeeze his shoulder hard until he finally looks up at me. My voice grows hard as I stare at him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He pushes at my arm, trying to budge it, and I let him. “Then whose it is?”

“The System. The Council.” My voice trembles with the rage I always feel when I think of them. “You and your mom, you guys are just trying to survive. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t choose it. This isn’t your fault.”

He closes his eyes, tears continuing to stream. He grabs his feet, hiding his face behind his knees as he sobs, “I didn’t want her to die.”

“I know.” I fall silent, listening to him cry and shooing others off.

Gods, I hate this fucking System.

Later, when he’s calmed down a little, we take her body out of the compound to their old house. Its windows are broken, the doors shattered and the garden churned up. Together, we place her in it, then we walk out and Jason sets the entire building on fire.

We watch it burn as others come by to spend some time with Jason, to offer their condolences and their support. Few spend much time with him though—his is not the only loss. We stay till the house is burnt down, then I walk him back and feed him Apocalypse Ale till he crashes. After that, I tuck him into bed. A part of me wonders where that blonde is, the one who grabbed him before, but another part of me figures it’s not my business.

Outside, I find Gadsby and Elder Badger directing the group in cleanup. The wall is fixed, the shields back up for now, but there are more things that need to be done.

“How bad is it?” I ask as I walk up.

“We lost fourteen of our primary fighters, including Melissa. About another two dozen others. Her loss…” Gadsby shakes his head, brown eyes filled with grief. “I shouldn’t say this, but losing her with her Levels—that was the worst.”

I nod in understanding. A single high-level fighter can do significantly more damage than multiple low-level fighters. Worse, Carcross has a much lower population and they were particularly top heavy in their Levels, having over-relied on their main fighters for defense. Andrea looks back to where I came from, her face tense with concern that etches lines deeper into her face.

“How is he?” Andrea asks, her voice filled with concern and weariness.

“Asleep. He’ll need someone to watch out for him.”

They nod.

“We know. It’s not as if we haven’t had experience at this,” Andrea says, her voice tinged with regret.

“It isn’t safe out here. You need more fighters, more defenses,” I say, feeling as if I’m stating the obvious. I probably am, but if I don’t say it, I’ll regret it later.

“Yes. We’ll… talk about it,” Andrea says, sharing a meaningful glance with Mike. I don’t get it, but that’s okay, so long as they’re thinking about it. “Thank you, John. Again.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” I wave away her gratitude, staring into the night.

I shut my eyes then open them again—an older blonde lying on dirt among blood and guts floats into my mind. Rage boils in me, warring with grief. I can’t do this right now. Not the people, not the gratitude. I don’t say anything as I walk away, heading for the exit.

There are monsters out there that still need killing.

Chapter 9

By the time I got back to Whitehorse, it was the evening of the next day. Even with my ridiculous Constitution, I’d crashed right after eating, resting up after pushing myself. I missed the funerals in Carcross, which was fine—I’ve been to enough of them to last me a lifetime. When I woke up, I found a small note of thanks and a big bar of chocolate from Rachel. Ali had already drunk through his gratitude. The only other thing I had was a note from Capstan to meet them at their compound.

Compound. Sounds like a such a defensive, scary word, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, that’s what we have forced the Yerick to build in their own portion of the city, after we burnt down the existing human buildings. A walled compound with watchtowers and a passive defensive shield that watched for intruders.

Perhaps most surprising are the buildings in the compound itself. Or maybe I should say building, since everything is connected via shaded walkways on the ground and in the air, broken up only by a series of open air, grassy courtyards. The buildings themselves are filled with graceful lines and have a tendency to make me feel a little small, what with their doorways being at least twelve feet high and ceilings a good twenty feet up, with a minimum of three stories in each portion. I let my eyes wander, drinking up the information while I consider how much to let the Hakarta know of this. I’m sure they’ll be interested, but as always, I’ve got to balance my utility to them with the security of the city. Well, most of this looks pretty standard so it’s likely nothing I can say here would be surprising.

The Yerick at the gates let me in without comment and direct me to wait in the square ahead. A cynical, paranoid part of me notes that this first square has a number of windows looking into it, windows which have armored shutters and what look like portable shield ports. There are also only two exits from this location, even if I can see the walkways ahead of me. I’d place good Credit on there being shield generators in front of those exits, ready to be triggered in the event of an attack.

Right now, the square is filled with Yerick children and a lone human child playing tag. Of course, the tagger is a Bounding Rabbit, a Level 1 monster that is certainly not playing in its attempts at child homicide. However, the adults who watch over the group look entirely relaxed, including, surprisingly, Miranda LaFollet, human councilor.

I frown, eventually deciding to speak with the only other human here. “Miranda?”

“Mr. Lee.” LaFollet’s French-Canadian accent makes it hard to understand her, as always.

“Is that safe?” I ask, and she shakes her head, lips twisting wryly. “Then…?”

“Why am I letting my son participate?” Miranda’s lips thin, her eyes darkening with worry. “Do you know that the Yerick train their children from young? They play tag with monsters, play ‘steal the eggs’ with blinded cockatrices, and adults conduct weekly hunts with their children. They aren’t the only ones too—a number of other Council races train their children from a young age. The Hakarta are very similar in their methods. The Truinnar are even more harsh.”

“No CPS then?” I say.

“They do it because they believe, all of them do, that hiding their children from the realities of the System is tantamount to abuse,” Miranda says, her hand clenching. “I lost his father because we weren’t ready. We, I, hated violence. I thought it was barbaric to hit your child, to hunt for your meat. I still do. For the world before the System, it was wrong. But we don’t live in that world anymore. And I won’t lose my son.”

As we speak, a Yerick child, a small ball of fluff and anger, slips as he dodges. The Rabbit smashes into him, and the sharp crack of a broken bone resounds through the square. I begin to move but am caught by Miranda, her head shaking slightly. Even as the Rabbit spins, getting ready to finish his downed opponent, another child darts forward and smacks it on the nose with a stick. While the Rabbit’s attention is diverted, another pair of children, including Miranda’s son, grab the fallen youngster who is gamely keeping his face straight. Working together, they drag him to the corner where a bored-looking teenager waits. In defiance of my expectation though, no healing spell is used. The child is forced to sit and wait for his System-assisted body to fix the damage.

“Harsh,” I murmur, watching the scene, and Miranda nods.

“Not really. Kid’s in no danger and the teenager has a healing spell. He’ll be back playing in minutes,” Ali says into my mind. “The Yerick might be a bit more rustic in their approach, but she’s right. Most races adopt some form of childhood training.”

“I’m going to push that we begin such training soon. That the Yerick help us with it,” Miranda says, her eyes flashing in determination.

“What… what does Fred think of this? And Minion?”

“They think it’s stupid. Foolish.” She shakes her head, her voice growing firmer. “Fred wants us to go back to what the world was. Wants it to be safe again for his child. He wants everything back to what it was. Eric… Eric is single. He always has been.”

I nod and fall silent. I have nothing to add. I have no power in the Council, no say in this. I am relieved of the duty of speaking further when Capstan exits a building, waving to me.

“Got to go.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.” As I hurry off to join Capstan and his team for our next dungeon run, I hear her murmur, “Next time, finish the job.”

I make sure not to let on that I heard her. I really don’t need any encouragement.

“Nope. Not a chance. I’m out,” I repeat, backing away from the ledge.

We’re standing in Miles Canyon, a canyon carved by the Yukon River a few kilometers outside of Whitehorse and just a few hundred meters away from the pedestrian suspension bridge. It’s one of the prettiest spots in the Yukon, a beautiful location that was quite popular with tourists due to its accessibility and the picturesque canyon walls and glacial water. Standing on the cliff edge, I feel the breeze on my skin, carrying the smell of fresh pine and clean, cold glacial water to me.

“It’s not that bad,” Aron says.

I look once more past our feet, where the river widens significantly into a nearly circular lake before narrowing again as it flows to Whitehorse. Right in the center, there’s a new whirlpool, the water swirling deep into darkness. That’s where they want me to jump.

“Not happening.” I shake my head, stepping away. “I know your scouts found this dungeon recently, but I’m not doing it.”

Capstan frowns, tilting his head, then gestures to the water again. “The dungeon is within a Level 20 zone. It is unlikely to be of significant difficulty.”

Arms crossed, I say, “Don’t care. Not going in.”

“That is, of course, your choice.” Capstan shrugs, gesturing to the others to get ready.

They move to the cliff’s edge, strapping on their scuba gear while leaving the additional gear aside for me. My lips tighten as I watch them.

“So there is something you’re scared of,” Ali says.

“Fuck off. I just really don’t like the water.”

I shiver as a memory flashes through my mind. Water entering my mouth and chest as my friend and I claw at each other. Neither of us able to swim and both of us in the deep end of the pool by accident. No bottom that I could touch, no air that I could breathe. I shut my eyes, a sliver of fear escaping its coiled confines. I push it aside, forcing my breathing to settle, and I open my eyes again.

“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t going in. It’ll give me a new story to tell,” Ali says, and I snort. Seeing his goading isn’t working, Ali adds, “To Luthien.”

“I know what you’re doing and it isn’t working. I know you don’t talk to her.”

“True, true. I do have Minion’s contact information though. And Richard’s. And Lana. And Roxley’s,” Ali continues, and I glare at him.

“Really? You think this is going to work? Threatening me with shame?” I growl, turning to face him as anger spills out.

“Why not? You don’t like having your… face, was it? taken away. This should do quite well,” Ali points out with that smirk that makes me want to beat him into a pulp.

“Fuck you, you spineless little twerp. I’m going to fucking banish you,” I shout, my hands moving to dismiss him.

“Sure, boy-o. And while you’re doing that, why don’t you buckle on your gear and get going, you big baby,” Ali adds.

Finger hovering over the dismiss button, I realize he’s right. I’m way too angry to be scared. At least not right now, and not if I… if I stop thinking, making myself move and strap on the equipment. The Yerick stare at me as I slap on the facemask then take a running leap, jumping directly at the whirlpool before the rest of my brain catches up.

“I hate you!”

I hate the water. I hate the water. I hate the water. Even if I was taught to swim later, even if I know I won’t drown, I still hate it. It’s entirely irrational, and while I can fight through it, I still hate it. It makes my chest tighten, my breathing come shorter, and my adrenaline spike.

Funny thing though—you’d think that having razor-teeth fish and squid-humanoid hybrids trying to kill me would make this my worst nightmare. It’s actually the opposite. At least fighting them, I have something to distract me. So what if one of them has pinned me in the side with a stinger? Or that the fish are swarming me, tearing chunks of flesh from my body? It’s all good—I’m not thinking about how I’m not entirely sure where up is. Or where the Yerick are. Or why I’m doing this.

Also, something new and fun to note. Lightning Strike is very, very effective at clearing your surroundings in the water. Of course, you and your friends end up a little crispy too and you get shouted at a lot for doing it, but that’s just details. If they didn’t like me using the Spell, they shouldn’t have invited me down here.

That’s really all I’m going to say about underwater dungeons. I’m never, ever going back into one, no matter how good the loot is.

“John?” Richard finds me later that evening, sitting outside in the garden at home with a very large keg of beer and a big bowl of chocolates, ice cream, and braised short ribs.

“Richard!” I wave hi to him before refilling my mug. Yes, I’m indulging myself. No, I’m not getting piss-blind drunk. It’d take Apocalypse Ale to do that, and I’ve avoided drinking it because, well, my sense of control is shaky at best most days. On the other hand, this amount should get me a bit of a buzz.

“You okay?” He looks over my sprawled form and the various pets that have gathered around me, waiting for the bones I discard. While technically short ribs, the mutated pieces of beef are nearly a foot long each.

“Oh, I’m great. Just great. Just completed another dungeon. It was so much fun,” I drawl while Ali snorts, busy on his own meal.

“Yeah… okay.” Richard slowly sits down on a lawn chair next to me. “Which dungeon?”

“Miles Canyon. It’s an underwater dungeon. Real pretty, you know, with all that freezing glacial water and carnivorous fish. Did you know that there are fucked up mermen in the dungeon?” I grin widely, waving a rib at Richard. “Want some?”

“No, I’m good,” Richard says. “So… you partying with the Yerick now?”

“Why is everyone so interested in that?” I complain after I swallow, waving the rib around to make my point. “I like them. All they want to do is fight and kill and get sweet, sweet loot. It’s real easy.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, we clear all the dungeons we find. We’re getting a bunch of bonuses for completing them first too.” I burp slightly. “But we’re nearly done now. Then I guess I’ll be back soloing… unless you guys know of any.”

“A few,” Richard answers. “We were hoping you’d come with us to try to clear them actually.”

“Me? And you?” I frown, staring at Richard. “You sure you trust me not to go crazy?”

“John, you were strangling a man to death!” Richard snaps.

“Yeah, but he was an asshole.”

“You still don’t do that shit, man,” Richard says, voice growing angry. “That’s not what heroes do.”

“Who says I’m a hero?”

“No one. But I’m not standing by watching you do that.”

“Oooh, you’re so fine and perfect, aren’t you?” I snap, anger flaring.

“You asshole—”

“Enough already!” Ali shouts, waving. “Oh my god. You girls are worse than Sooki and JWOWW. Get over yourselves!”

“Shut up,” we chant in unison at the Spirit.

“Bite me. You lost control, boy-o. You know it. And you, pretty boy, you could have tried something a little more useful than fighting. What’s the point of all that Charisma if you aren’t using it? Outside of bedding women,” Ali says.

I glare at the Spirit, anger flashing in my eyes. On the other hand, he is right. I know he is. I just… ugh.

I finally say, “Are they in the water?”

“No, not at all,” Richard mutters.

“I’m in then. Sure. No water dungeons though, nope. No water dungeons. Don’t like them.” I frown, touching my head with the hand that still clutches the stripped rib. “I’m feeling a bit… off.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that. I can actually alter your Resistances a bit,” Ali says and points at me.

“Oh… so I’m drunk?” I blink. I frown, raising my hand to cast a Healing Spell. I twitch my fingers, Mana flowing then shorting as I mess up the incantation, pain flaring. “Oops…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be casting a spell right now,” Richard says. “Come on, let’s get you into your bed.”

“No. No,” I snarl, anger spilling out, and I find myself shouting at Ali. “Don’t do that. Don’t ever do that. I don’t like being drunk. I don’t get drunk. I don’t like losing control.”

“Sorry.” Ali shrinks back, a hand flickering slightly. “I thought I was helping. I’ve changed it back.”

I nod, slumping back into the chair again, anger draining away as quickly as it came. Richard lets out a breath of relief next to me. The animals slowly relax too, fur no longer bristling as the threat passes.

“Just don’t do that. I don’t want to get drunk, I just want to relax, damn it.”

“Okay.” Ali stares at me for a moment longer before he slowly relaxes too.

“John,” Richard starts again, concern etching his face, “are you really okay?”

“I’m good. I’m good.” I exhale, tossing the bone aside and reaching for my mug. I pause and change directions to grab some chocolate from the bowl. “I just… it wasn’t a good day. I’m fine though.”

“Okay,” Richard relents, staying seated. After a time, he grabs a rib and chews on it.

We eat in silence for a while, the fog in my brain slowly clearing.

“You know, these Dungeons have been appearing more and more often,” he says.

“I know. Not much we can do about it. Clearing the Bosses helps reduce the incidence, but they’re still going to appear. All we can do is try to contain them, clear them enough that they don’t start spilling out and overrunning us.”

Richard sighs then glances sideways at me, sipping on his own beer. “Sorry by the way. About, you know, all that shit.”

“Whatever. Shit happens. That’s our life now, isn’t it? Shit happens.” I stare at my hand, shaking my head slowly. “I’m over it. Have to be, don’t I? We’ve got more shit to kill.”

“That’s…” Richard shakes his head as he decides not to tackle the giant signs of denial I’ve posted. “You going to join us for our dungeons then?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” I sigh. “I can’t tackle them, not by myself. Some, sure. But most, especially the uncharted ones, the ones deeper—it’s just not possible. Not at my Level anyway.”

“All right then.” Richard falls silent, and I join him in quiet contemplation and eating.

“Why do you do it?” I ask suddenly, tossing the latest bone into the distance to watch the puppies rush for it. “I mean, Mikito’s all about revenge. Me, I’m just angry and stupid. You, you’re a bit more, you know, normal. Yet you keep heading out just like the rest of us, killing and maiming.”

“Thanks, I think.” Richard pauses before saying, “It’s stupid. You’ll laugh.”

“Yeah, probably. I’ve got a fucked up sense of humor. Ask Minion.”

“Not funny.”

“A little funny,” Ali says.

“Spider-Man,” Richard finally says.

“Uhh…?”

“When I was a kid, my father used to have these old Spider-Man comics around. Read them from cover to cover. I, well… when this happened, I just wanted to get safe at first, get Lana safe. But then I started seeing that not everyone had a fighting class. Not everyone could go out, or would go out. I-I needed, I wanted to be better.”

“With great power comes great responsibility?” I’m not a giant geek, but I lived with one and the movies were fun. And yeah, I’ve read a few comic books in my time.

“Yeah. Told you it was stupid.” Richard shrugs.

I consider what he said for a moment, staring at the man before I smile slightly, guzzling down the last of the beer. “Yup, stupid.”

“Asshole.”

“Yup.”

“Seriously?” I mutter the next day, walking behind Aron and Tahar as they tear through this newly discovered dungeon.

“Not all dungeons will be dangerous,” Capstan points out as we walk along.

A hare manages to get past the pair in front and he casually flicks a stone at it. The empowered pebble rips a hole through the Level 5 monster and drops it to the ground. The creatures are no larger than a normal-sized animal, but they’re faster with barbed fur. Their major mode of attack is to rush you and run across your body, their fur gripping and tearing off strips of flesh. I bend down and loot the corpse before tossing the body into my Altered Space.

“Ugh,” I grumble as we continue through the giant burrow.

At least I find walking easier than the Yerick, who have to crouch as they walk. Ali’s ahead of us all, guiding the front pair, his tiny orange-clad body shining with light.

After a time, I talk to just fill the silence. “Why’d you come here?”

“This dungeon probably would not last. Another monster would clear it for us. Best for us to do it and get the experience,” Capstan points out, and I nod, accepting his point.

What will and won’t be permanent is still very much in the air right now. I brighten up as I realize that might mean the dungeon in Miles Canyon could disappear. On the other hand…

“Not really what I meant. I mean, why Earth? Why Whitehorse?” I clarify.

“Dungeon Worlds are where we thrive,” Capstan says, glancing at me. “You know of our history?”

“A bit,” I say.

“The Yerick were introduced to the System five hundred or so of your years ago. We were always few in number and we had not progressed much in technology. Not like some of the other civilizations.” Capstan absently grabs a hare that jumps at him, killing the creature before tossing the looted body to me to store. “We did not adapt well. Some of my people refused the System. Others fought the invaders. Eventually, all those who refused the System died. All that were left were those who embraced the System. By then, it was too late. We had lost our leaders, our builders, our artists. All we had left were our fighters.

“We needed Credits, we needed places of safety. All we could do was to hire ourselves out to work as Adventurers. We found we were good at it. In time, that’s what we became. A world of Adventurers. At least, most of us.”

I nod slowly, wondering if that was to be humanity’s future. We’ve already lost so many—how long before we could grow again, live again?

“As for why Whitehorse…” Capstan looks me over. “I am unsure you will find the explanation satisfactory.”

“Try me.”

“We came because Lord Roxley asked,” Capstan explains simply, and I frown. Seeing my expression, he continues. “There is much of this world, of this System you do not understand still. Lord Roxley is not what you consider a typical Truinnar. What he has done for the city, how he has managed it, is unusual. Among the Council or the Truinnar in particular.”

“Oh?”

“Most others who have arrived have been much more… forceful in their acquisition. More direct in their introduction of Galactic Law.” Capstan’s placid brown eyes darken, his voice coming out as a low rumble. “The Yerick have experienced the yoke of Galactic Law before. Indentured service for many is no better than slavery.”