Life in the North: An Apocalyptic LitRPG

While we’re squinting, a full fifteen Postosuchus hit us. Capstan swings automatically, his axe blade shearing through the air and passing right through the monster’s body without stop, throwing his balance off for a precious second, and without doing any damage. It’s enough for a pair of monsters to dog-pile him. Aaron’s bullets do no damage either, tearing up the ground as the Postosuchus rip into him. All along the line, the monsters attack and only a few weapons seem to work—Mikito’s naginata, Luthien’s guardian Mana blades, and Anna’s flames, which flare and drive the monsters away.

Standing just in front of Lana, I don’t have much time to pay attention as a pair surge toward me, their mouths wide and tearing as they crack against the force field Sabre generates. The shield drops by a third with just those attacks and I hiss, focusing for a second to cast Soul Shield on Lana. It lacks the auto-regeneration of Sabre’s shielding, but it’s certainly better than nothing.

“They’re phased. Energy weapons and Mana spells!” Ali shouts as he floats high above us, pain lacing his voice as he clutches at the remains of his left arm. Blue lights float around where the stump ends, slowly filling out his form again.

I thrust out my hand, calling forth my Mana Dart spell, and watch as four appear around my hand. They fly straight out, slamming into a Postosuchus that’s still trying to get past my shield. Sadly, Mana Darts might be cheap and fast to cast, but they’re not particularly powerful.

“Use your sword, boy-o. It’ll hurt them,” Ali shouts at me mentally. Now he tells me!

Not needing another invitation, I duck forward, calling forth the sword to lop off part of a nose that comes too close before making the sword reappear in my other hand, where I stab it down a throat. Between the pair of attackers and dancing deeper into the swarm, I keep my sword and my body moving. There’s a trick to making a soulbound melee weapon appear and disappear around you, a certain sense of timing and motion that makes full use of its ability. Why take the half-second to pull a blade out of a body when you can just make it reappear outside? The Honor Guard have a fighting style built around their soulbound weapons and I’ve done the best I can to imitate them. It’s effective, though often silly-looking.

Ingrid, in her shadow form, is fighting the monsters on their own turf, a pair of knives flashing as she cuts and stabs to keep the monsters from overwhelming Bill’s line. Luthien, her Mana-blades on defense, wields whips of fire that pass through but injure the monsters, leaving her other teammates to lay down cover fire. Bill’s pair of beam pistols kick out searing death, punching holes even through phased forms. The Yerick have switched weapons as well, converging and covering Nelia. All but Capstan, whose axe glows red under the effect of a Skill.

It’s not all going our way of course. We suffer more than one injury, but Ali’s warning has shifted the momentum in our favor. At least until the Postosuchus play their next card. They shift, dropping into our reality fully, and charge us. Attacks that once dug into their bodies and injured them glance off. They hit our line like wrecking balls and what was an ordered defense disappears as everyone ends up fighting for themselves.

I’m about the only one who isn’t affected—mostly because I broke ranks a while ago to draw more to me. Doesn’t mean I’m doing much better at hurting them, mind you, but when they come at me, I trigger Blink Step and appear behind them to grab the Postosuchus off Lana as she holds it off with one arm underneath its neck. I twist, making sure to put my hips into it, and watch the monster fly into its friends, who have just about turned around.

I lay into the four with Blade Strikes, blue lines of force rippling from my sword as I cut again and again. Each strike might not be as powerful as a hand-held cut, but at this distance, each blow is hitting more than one. Lana, on her knees now, adds to my attack with her shotgun, tearing holes into the monsters, blood and meat spraying from wounds.

“Go! I’ve got this,” I snap at Lana.

She jerks a nod, spinning to where her pets, other than Anna, are fighting a losing battle. The puppies are just not strong enough to deal with the added resistance of the monsters. Dashing forward and sideways, Lana unloads her shotgun again and again at an outlying monster as it rips and tears at Shadow’s foot. I don’t have time to watch, stealing glances as I work to keep my four on their back feet and away from me. The last sight I have of Lana and her pets is of Mikito dashing over, her own attacker a cooling corpse. Then I’m too busy to watch.

Minutes that seem like hours later, I pull the last corpse of my quartet of attackers into my storage dimension after looting it and sit up. I don’t bother moving faster—the last couple of dots on my minimap are a good indication that the party has things well in hand. Nice thing about the System is that if someone who’s wounded doesn’t have an on-going status effect, they’ll live and heal. Looking around, I edge over to the puppies. Lana has a bandage over Shadow’s leg while Mikito casts a healing spell on Anna.

“This more your speed?” Ali’s sarcastic tone can be heard in the distance as he taunts Bill, who is standing still as one of his teammates casts a regeneration spell on his hand, restoring a pair of lost fingers.

Ali’s only answer comes from Luthien, who tosses a ball of sickly green energy at Ali.

“Need some help?” I ask Lana, who nods. I squat, casting to help speed up the healing process. It’s not necessary, but there’s no point in wasting time either—you never know what might attack next. Which reminds me…

I look up, spotting the guards that Capstan has posted, all of them glowing with green light as Nelia’s healing spells work on the Yerick. Always nice to have someone with a little more experience in play.

“So those lights—part of their shifting properties?” I ask Ali mentally as I work on Shadow, Lana stroking the whimpering puppy.

“Best I can figure it, yeah. Want me to scout ahead?” Ali asks.

I send confirmation to him. No reason to ask him to be careful. The Postosuchus might be able to injure him, but he won’t die.

“You okay?” I ask Lana, eyeing the redhead with trepidation as she strokes the puppy. I notice the slight tremble in her fingers, the way she holds the black husky just a little too tightly.

“I’m fine,” Lana says. “Did you loot the bodies yet?”

I consider pushing her, but over the last few weeks, the wall between us has gotten so high, I’m not even sure how to breach it. “Not yet.”

“Go. We need the Credits,” she says.

I frown. She’s never been this obsessed with money. My hesitation draws an irritated glance from her and I stand to loot and store more corpses. Nothing I can do about it, at least for now. The others let me store the bodies, knowing it’s easier than the “usual” routine of digging through the corpses for the bits that the alchemists, smiths, and other crafters can use. As I said, the Guard Skills are useful in other, less direct ways.

A few minutes later, the group’s ready to get going, and I relay the new information sent back by Ali to Capstan. We head deeper, being more careful this time. Definitely not boring.

Nearly nine hours later, we finally come toward the end. If it wasn’t for the fact that Ali had found the Boss room, we probably would have taken a break already. Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that we all had upgraded Stats, we would have had to take a break already. I can still recall my first day after the System came, when running, hiding, and occasionally fighting drained me completely—if not physically, at least mentally. But finding the Boss room gave us enough of a push to keep the group going, tired and cranky as we all were.

When we cross into the room, the Postosuchus Boss is curled up, head poking above its tail and staring at the only entrance. Violet eyes the size of dinner plates stare at us balefully as we enter, spreading out as we get ready. It doesn’t move, just watching us, and something in the pit of my stomach drops. It’s never a good thing when the monsters don’t attack immediately. It means they’re either smart or have something else nasty planned.

Capstan, Aaron, Mikito, the huskies, and the large lunk who is Bill’s tank move to circle the monster, our first line of defense. The rest of us hang back, charging up our attacks. And still, nothing happens. Capstan chops his hand down and we let loose, opening fire with bullets, beams, spells, and more—and that’s when things go sideways.

One moment it’s there, the next it’s gone. All our firepower is wasted and we’re left looking around, searching for trouble.

“He’s shifted over comple—” Ali shouts, his sentence cut off as he’s ripped apart. No blood, but body parts fly apart, and then Ali’s banished. And still we can’t see anything.

Ali’s words are enough though, and I check through the QSM’s settings. Assuming the Boss is using the same dimension as the rest of his team, I should be able to slide right in. A flicker and I’m in, the world around me becoming a ghostly outline. The QSM shifts me partly into the other dimension—not fully, since I wouldn’t be able to see where I was if it did—but it’s enough to let me see the Boss. The time I’ve taken is enough for it to shift positions again, getting behind our line and readying itself for the attack. I open up with the Inlin.

I’ve never tried before to fire the Inlin at a monster who’s all the way in another dimension. Rather than tearing new holes into the monster, the bullets lose their place in the dimensional shift quickly, dropping back into my default dimension. Thankfully, the monster’s so big, my shots tear up the walls rather than my friends. My shots landing so near the group sends everyone scrambling, making the Postosuchus shift and subsequent attack miss. A few attacks from my friends later and the Boss shifts back again, its minor wounds already fading.

Too bad for it that I’m waiting over here. Lightning greets it as I unload the spell I’ve been charging, white light so bright that even with flare compensation, I’m squinting. As before, energy crosses all dimensions—or stays in all dimensions, maybe. Either way, the Postosuchus writhes on its stubby legs, tail lashing as it attempts to hit me, but the lightning rips into it, tearing through its body and injuring it. I’ve got it on the ropes, its body writhing as electricity cascades through it, making muscles clench and neurons fire—and that’s when the grenades go off.

Quantum grenades are the high-tech answer to dimensional shifting. Being not fully in any particular dimension, the focused energy of the quantum grenades deal a significant amount of damage and can, if used properly, throw the dimensional shifter back into reality. That’s pretty much what happens to me as energy bombards my body, damaging me and Sabre in equal measure and ripping me away. I’m lucky that I wasn’t at the epicenter of the blast.

I lie on the ground, smoking and groaning, knowing that the Boss was barely affected by the attacks. After all, unlike me, it was fully shifted to the other dimension. The grenades were useful against its brethren, but against the Boss, they’d be no more useful than a warm shower. Even as I lie there, I feel Sabre re-routing around damaged components, restoring functionality as quickly as my Skill and its on-board processes can.

“Sorry!” Aron shouts at me, eyes raking over our surroundings as he awaits the next attack.

I answer him with a groan, casting a quick Greater Healing spell while Sabre finishes rebooting.

I’m too slow for what comes next. The Boss reappears next to Bill’s meathead and clamps down with its teeth. Luthien’s defensive blades strike out, plunging into the monster’s body, while spears of shadow erupt from the ground, impaling the monster even as the Boss attempts to bite the poor man in half. Bill is firing his pistols at point-blank range, each shot opening the wound wider and wider. Nelia and Bill’s healer tosses healing spell after healing spell in a futile attempt to keep the tank alive, but a last crunch splits his top half from the bottom.

A chime tells me Sabre’s up, so I’m up, a hand raised to add my spells to the mix, but the Boss is gone, back into the other dimension. I snarl, “It’s fully in the other dimension but somehow still seeing into this one. Quantum grenades are useless.”

I get nods and I scan around, glancing at the QSM. Nearly two thirds of the charge is drained, leaving enough to pop over and fight a little bit, but not really enough to kill. Probably. Better to stay here, add to the damage and healing. Maybe I can stop another person from being torn into pieces.

It pops into existence right behind Mikito, mouth snapping out toward the tiny Japanese woman. Bad idea, since she sticks her polearm into its mouth and jams it there. Halfway through her polearm, the Boss gives up on trying to eat her as the pain finally reaches its tiny brain. The rest of us are busy tearing into it, unloading shots into its body before it disappears, taking Mikito’s naginata with it.

Mikito cries out angrily, hands twitching as she pulls a pair of short, curved swords from her inventory. Silence ensues as we wait for the next attack, silence that stretches for minutes before it reappears, giant tail sweeping the Yerick aside. The Yerick might be big for humanoids, but weight and momentum win out and the group is thrown into the nearby walls, cracking icicles on their way through the air. Spells made of ice, fire, and shadows rip into it while beams cook its flesh and bullets add to its injuries. Mikito dances through the fire, ducking in low and cutting at its foot, severing a tendon before she’s brushed aside as the monster turns.

Twice more, the monster pops in and out, the second time catching Luthien and nearly killing her. Only a series of hasty healing spells and the fact that the monster is injured stops it from killing her, though it does take a foot from her as it dies. And then it’s over, the mutilated body lying in a pile of freezing blood while the rest of us begin the process of patching ourselves together.

Congratulations! Dungeon Cleared

+10,000 XP

First Clear Bonus

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

Bent Knee Ice Cave Dungeon classified as Level 65+ and above.

Level Up!

You have reached Level 35 as an Erethran Honor Guard. Stat Points automatically distributed. You have 3 Free Attribute Points and 4 Class Skills to distribute.

I stare at the man we lost and the flat, emotionless faces Ingrid and Bill sport, and I grimace. I have no idea what they’re thinking—perhaps someone like Rachel could understand the level of loss they must feel as another person from their town dies. So few of them managed to get out of Dawson. Selfishly, I can’t help but think that losing another person is a blow to Whitehorse. Especially when it’s someone this high level. The damn dungeons are getting tougher and tougher each day.

Chapter 5

“I hate being banished. The headaches really, really suck,” Ali grumbles when I pull him back into our world, watching my Mana pool drop like a rock when I do so. The biggest issue with Ali being linked to me is that the cost of summoning him keeps going up too.

“Do you even get headaches?” I wonder.

“Something close enough to it.” Ali shakes his head. “Sorry about the loss, boy-o.”

I glance backward at the reduced group trekking down the mountain and nod dumbly. Just another damn corpse to lay at the feet of the System. And mine. If I’d remembered to tell them not to use the grenades, if I’d purchased a Skill or some tech to talk between dimensions, if I had cast a Healing Spell… If. If. If. So many ifs. The ifs can pull you down, throw you into a whirlpool of self-doubt, and drown you in the past. You’ll freeze in the future and ignore the present if you let it.

What is is. I push aside the thoughts, the doubts, and the mental recriminations. Too many battles, too many bodies, too many deaths. I know the rest are doing much the same in their own ways, processing the battle so that we can go on. Because in the end, all you can do is go on.

“At least you got another level, boy-o,” Ali says, switching back to our private channel.

“Yeah. Going to have to assign those attributes soon.”

“Still keeping the Skill points for Level 40?”

“Yup. Third-tier Skills look pretty good. I’ll make up the difference with tech and Credits for now.”

“Just be careful. Might not always get time to assign them.”

“I know. Speaking of Credits, what’s with Lana’s obsession?”

“Well… I have a few ideas, but you aren’t going to like them.”

Before I can say anything else, Mikito sidles up to me and prods me. I look at her as she speaks. “I’m nearing Level 50. I was hoping Ali could tell me what happens then.”

Ali blinks and looks between the two of us. I shrug, and the Spirit rubs his chin. “Well, there are a few ways things can go. The easiest method is to take the Classes offered to you by the System. They’re derived from your initial Basic Class, mostly direct upgrades. Not a bad choice if you’ve already got a good base Class. If you want access to specialized Advanced Classes, there are Quests you can complete to open them up. Not really viable here though, but for the Galactics with the Credits and time, it’s a popular thing to do.

“Lastly, you can skip the entire issue and just buy an option via the Shop. Gives you access to a more powerful Advanced Class when you hit Level 50, but that’s pretty expensive. Those are the most common options. The change can get more complicated too, like Classes and Skills that give you options to get better Classes, but again, that requires planning and access to the options.”

“I’m assuming that’s the same for Master Classes?” I say and get a nod from Ali.

“Is there a way to find out what I might get offered?” Mikito asks.

Ali snorts. “Duh. Buy it from the Shop. Normally isn’t too expensive either.”

Mikito nods, taking the rebuke in stride. Of course it was that simple. The damn System always wants you to buy something from it. Always.

“What’s going on with Lana?” I mutter to Mikito, and she looks at me, opening her mouth to answer.

“I can hear you two,” Lana calls, striding forward and glaring at us. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Mikito blushes, ducking her head at getting caught.

I shift slightly, uncomfortable with the direct confrontation, but I grit my teeth and ask. Better to get it said and done. “What’s going on with you? You’ve changed.”

“I’m not allowed to?” Lana says, glaring at us.

“Not what I said. I’m trying to understand your actions. I’m worried about you,” I say.

Lana snorts, scratching at Howard’s grey fur as he moves up beside her. “I’m fine. I’ve got it handled out there, don’t I?”

“So far…” I admit reluctantly.

“I’m not the one who broke ranks earlier today. Or disappeared without letting us know why. Or has been reporting everything we’re doing to the Hakarta. Don’t you try to guilt me over what I’m doing. I’m fine,” Lana snaps. “I got this.”

I open my mouth and shut it as she swings up onto Howard, leaning down close to the puppy as it takes off. Well, shit.

“Thanks for the backup,” I mutter to Mikito, who shrugs, keeping her eyes on the ground. I can’t blame her—emotional confrontations aren’t easy.

We watch together as Lana and her pets take off, streaming away from the group, and we just shake our heads at the inquisitive glances we get from the others.

“Well, that went well…”

It’s no triumphant return when we finally make it to Whitehorse hours later, though the Boss’s body that I drop off gets more than a few wide-eyed stares at the butchering yard. It’ll be a damn good bump to our food stocks. One nice thing about the System—pretty much anything that moves is edible, if it’s not poisonous by nature. Not as if anyone’s going to try to eat a Mercury Elemental of course.

It takes a short few minutes to get everything sold and the Credits distributed. Simple enough to send Credits via the System, so Mikito and Lana don’t even need to be there, a fact that Mikito took full advantage of the moment we got back.

I’m standing outside the city center building with Ali, trying to figure out what to do next, when the day decides to take another turn for the worse. Out of the building comes a pair of tall Tuinnar in red and yellow who carry themselves with that ramrod-straight bearing you see in soldiers. They quickly spread out, one of them watching Ali and me closely while the other scans the streets for more threats. They jabber so fast that even Ali’s translation doesn’t work, not while he’s busy with other things like getting their Status information for me.

A short while later, another pair of guards comes out, leading a tall Tuinnar woman and a shorter male Tuinnar, probably only five feet, three inches tall but with that predatory grace and unconscious confidence I’ve come to associate with the really dangerous. The woman is more interesting, beautiful in that dark-skinned, Elven way they have, long mossy-green hair contrasting with the gold and red of her dress. She walks the way the powerful do, certain with the knowledge that everything will work out just the way they want it to because that’s the way it has always been. Standing next to her, Roxley, pretty as he is, is overshadowed, even with his Skills and attributes. Not because she’s beautiful, but because her presence itself makes you want to watch her. Surprisingly, bringing up the rear of this motley group is Labashi, the Hakarta an ugly green contrast in the group of beautiful black Elves.

“Ah, John!” Roxley says, smiling as he waves me in through the security cordon. The guards tense slightly but don’t move to stop me as I walk forward. “May I introduce the Duchess Kangana’s Envoy—the Lady Priya Kangana and her escort, Weaponmaster Hondo Ehrish.”

Lady Priya Kangana (??? Level ???, Lady of the Seven Marshes, Mistress of the Kitchen, Savant of the Realm)

HP: ???

MP: ???

Hondo Ehrish (Weaponmaster Level 43, Master of Blades and Guns, Slayer of Orcs, Goblins and Unika, Destroyer of Monsters, The Unbroken Warrior)

HP: 4,340/4,340

MP: 1,900/1,900

“Evening,” I greet them, smiling slightly even as my eyes narrow. Envoy… deep politics for sure. Deeper than anything I’ve ever swum in. I’m not surprised her levels are hidden. Those titles on the other hand… it’s interesting what titles can tell you about a person. For example, Hondo’s are pretty clearly “don’t fuck with me” titles. Hers are more ambiguous. “What brings you to our little town?”

“Our visit to this village is a courtesy,” Priya says, smiling tightly. “We’re here to understand the scope of improvements the Duchess’s nephew has completed.”

Nephew. I still my face, knowing that going completely blank is as good a tell as shouting, but it’s the best I can do. Well, isn’t that interesting. “That’s nice. I hope you enjoy the visit.”

“I’m sure we will,” Priya says.

“This is one of your human Adventurers you have cultivated?” Hondo says, his eyes traveling over my body and flicking up in an all-too-familiar gesture. “I am not impressed.”

My smile widens at the casual insult, but I don’t make a move. Standing here, alone and in my light armor, surrounded by his guards, it’s not a good idea. Never mind the fact that he’s a Level 39 Advanced Class at least, if not Master.

“Advanced.”

And it’s just a bad idea. He got up to those levels the hard way, and kicking my ass would be all too simple for him. Better to smile. I’m a big boy. Words can hurt and annoy me, but swords and spears can impale me.

“Come, I’m sure Graxan has more he wishes to show us,” Priya says and waves for Roxley to carry on.

The Dark Elf Lord does, leading them away, and other than a familiar nod from Labashi, the group doesn’t pay me any further attention as they troop after him. I stare as the group departs, my brain trying to work out what this all means. It’s kind of like seeing the Queen in Whitehorse—weird and without any real context but definitely important. Either way, at least the shoe has dropped at last.

I find Vir upstairs, watching over the group in the anteroom that leads to Roxley’s offices, pretty much standing exactly where I expected him to be.

“Care to explain?” I growl softly.

“Lord Roxley mentioned you might be coming.” Vir waves me to a seat, his attention only partly on me. The rest I’m guessing is on the various security windows he’s got pulled up that only he can see.

“Why are they here?” I slump in the chair, waiting for an answer that would make sense.

“To take over the city, obviously,” Vir says.

“That I got, but I expected more, you know, guns. And spells.”

“That might come later, but it is not the way we operate,” Vir says. “Too wasteful. Better to start soft, come in diplomatic, and play things quietly. Leave the fighting for later when that fails.”

I frown. “So what, they’re asking Roxley to leave?”

“That would be too gauche. No, they will explain how he is not doing well enough, how the city might be better managed under some other, more resourceful individuals. They will pressure him, personally and familially, and when that does not work, well… I’m sure there are more plans in play,” Vir says, rubbing his chin. “Do keep watch. I expect there to be more plans in play at this time.”

“Not worried I’d report what I see to them?” I ask Vir, and he smiles slightly.

“No. Worrying does little in such situations.”

“Why aren’t you down there anyway?”

“Mmmm?”

“Well, you’re the spymaster, aren’t you?”

“No. Lord Roxley has designated another as such.”

“Bullshit.”

“I speak the truth. You may request the information from the Shop. I understand it is quite cheap,” Vir says, smiling slightly.

“But you handle all this spying and political shit, right?” I frown, staring at Vir. I’m pretty sure Labashi as much as confirmed it during our meetings.

“Yes, though I do not hold the title.”

I frown. “Oh…”

Vir does the job but doesn’t have the title. Which makes sense, since if someone wanted to know who Roxley’s spymaster was, if they didn’t word the question properly, they’d get a different name. On the other hand, the fact that anyone who pays attention can figure out he’s the actual spymaster means that it’s not something they’re really trying to hide. Probably, again, because of the Shop.

“This is making my head hurt. If everyone knows you’re doing the job anyway, why bother?”

Vir falls silent for a time, staring at me before he answers. “Because the information you so casually toss around might not be true. Many groups have run double, even triple bluffs. Designating a spymaster but not giving them any responsibility can often just be the first cover, while the second might have the individual receiving such information later. Each layer of deception requires Credits to acquire in the Shop or knowledge to bypass the questions.”

“And the Shop varies the amount of Credits cost dependent on how much information you have beforehand, right? So if I wanted to learn who the real spymaster was without knowing anything beforehand, it’d be pretty expensive to just buy the information straight out.”

Vir nods, and I sigh. It does explain why so much is kept hidden or if not hidden, obfuscated in layers. No secret is safe if it’s been written down, spoken about, or transferred somehow through the System, but the cost of the secrets varies depending on how easy the information is to acquire. About the only secret truly safe is the one that stays in your head.

All in all, it makes for a paranoid world.

Chapter 6

A few days later, I find myself eating lunch at the Golden Nugget, working through the plates of ribs, steaks, and rice while waiting for the rest of my party to make an appearance. We’re having a late start to the day since Mikito and Lana were on newbie hunter training duty this morning. I ran my own group through a night course, which as usual ended up with a series of wannabe hunters moaning and griping about injuries. Really, you’d think they’d get over getting impaled after a few hours.

After spending the last few hours working with Aiden on adapting my Fireball spell into an Iceball spell—or whatever you want the equivalent spell to be called—I made my way into town, still devoid of a new toy to add to my arsenal. Learning spells the hard way is painful, but it’s useful for increasing my understanding of Mana. Problem is, even with my increased intelligence and knowledge, I only have so much time to devote to things like this. In the end, it’d almost be better for me to just earn the Credits to buy the spell from the Shop, but once again, that stubborn part of me actually does want to understand what the hell I’m doing.

“John!” Amelia, a broad-shouldered, big-boned lady, plops down in a vacant seat with a sigh.

“Constable,” I answer, smiling slightly. She’s dressed in Roxley’s guard uniform, the shoulders straining as she moves. I swear, each time I see her, she’s gotten larger and larger as her Class builds upon her physique. I’m sure, at some point, it’ll stop, but I am curious when that will happen. Right now, professional bodybuilders would be envious of her physique. “Good to see you.”

“Nice to see you too. Are you going to the meeting?” Amelia says brusquely.

I raise an eyebrow. “What meeting?”

“Of course, you don’t know.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “You really need to stop pissing everyone off.”

“Oh come on…”

“You’re actually going to deny it!” Amelia snorts and raises her hand, ticking things off. “Telling Eric off, calling Miranda Battleaxe to her face…”

“That was complimentary!” I protest.

Amelia doesn’t even stop. “Recommending that the alchemists devote part of their time to making potions for free as their taxes. Asking the Council to their face when they would grow a pair.” She shakes her head. “And that’s in the last month.”

“They needed to make the decision about the land claims. Dragging it out for another few months wasn’t going to make a damn bit of difference. The people who would be upset would still be upset,” I point out.

“I’m not saying you were wrong, but there are ways of doing things—”

“Politics you mean.”

“Yes, politics. Diplomacy. Being nice. Lana’s not around to smooth the feathers you ruffle anymore, you know,” Amelia growls, gripping the newly delivered pint glass. She drains it before she slams it down. “Never mind. I’m not here to argue with you about this. I’m here to tell you that the Council—the human City Council—is meeting with Lady Priya.”

“Interesting. I didn’t think we had a human council,” I say.

A few months ago, the City Council that had ruled over humanity pretty much imploded when a stupid plan by the current Mayor fell apart. It ended with the creation of the General Council—one that consisted of both humans and aliens.

“It’s not official, but pretty much anyone who’s anyone who’s human is on it,” Amelia says. “Richard was. So’s Lana when she bothers to turn up.”

“Huh.” I shake my head again. I wish I could say I’m surprised I’ve been left out, but I probably wouldn’t have turned up even if I was invited. It’s a little surprising that they’ve gone and created an unofficial government, but only just a little. Humans will be humans and a surprising number of politicians seemed to have survived, at least in Whitehorse. “And you’re telling me ‘cause you think I should go?”

“Of course. Since I’m working for Lord Roxley, they don’t want me there but…”

“But I’m rude and ignorant and no one is about to throw me out,” I finish for her and sigh. Politics. But I have to admit, I’m curious. “When is it?”

“At noon.” Amelia smirks slightly. “Might want to get on the move.”

I grimace, looking at the clock in the corner of my vision that Ali hacked into the System for me, and I sigh. If I want to get to the meeting, I’ll have to get going. Which means I won’t have time to finish the rest of my lunch. Amelia already knows this, of course, which is why she’s stolen a plate and is digging in without prompting. I frown at her and she grins at me, waving a pair of fingers as I stand.

The meeting is being held in the old city building. Thankfully, Ali’s able to quickly guide me to where they are; otherwise I’d be wandering the large building, looking like a fool. The room looks like a typical conference room, large tables with an array of office chairs filled with pretentious and self-important people. Surprising how some things have managed to make its way through the apocalypse largely untouched.

All the usual suspects are here. Eric Roth in his suit flanks the matronly Miranda Lafollet, who sits at the head of the table, while Norman Blockwell and a few other council members sit about, chatting. Jim Calbery and a few other hunters sit across from the politicians in their own cluster, with Bill and Luthien seated close by but separate. There are even a few businessmen, clustered closer to the politicians than hunters, who I recognize by sight, if not name. It’s a microcosm of the city—at least the human side. The tension in the room is high and grows even higher when I walk in.

“What are you doing here?” Eric says, lips curled up.

My lips tug up, the “smile” never reaching my eyes as I take a seat near the door and put my feet up on the table. “I thought I’d pay you guys a visit. Been missing your sunny disposition.”

“John, we actually try to do real work here,” Miranda butts in before things get too heated between the two of us. “Your presence wasn’t requested because, well…”

“I’m an ornery bastard who gets bored?”

“You have no understanding about the difficulties involved in running a city!” snaps Eric.

“True.”

That answer makes Eric blink, his mouth working as he tries to find a comeback to the unexpected declaration of incompetence. Hell, I was a (bad) computer programmer back in the old world. Ask me to put together a website? Sure, I could do that. Running a business, much less a city, is well out of my skillhouse. No shame in admitting that.

“So why are you here?” Bill asks.

Luthien stares at me for a second, sparks dancing along her fingers as she eyes Ali.

“I want to hear what your guest has to say,” I reply, eyes tracking the red dots approaching our door.

I smile slightly, tilting my head as the Envoy’s guards step in, clearing the room. In a few moments, the Envoy herself makes her way in. Lady Priya, flanked by her Weaponmaster, stares at the group of lounging humans. A few people nod to her in greeting, and some smile as we wait.

“You will stand in the presence of the Lady!” snarls Hondo as he stalks forward, eyes glinting bloody murder. He radiates danger and anger.

Almost as once, the politicians and most of the hunters scramble to their feet. Jim hesitates for a moment before he stands, and Bill compresses his lips in anger but eventually complies as Hondo glares at him. Which leaves me, seated with my feet on the table. Hondo shoots me a glare, and for a second, I feel my stomach drop.

Mental Influence Resisted

“Get the fuck up, boy-o!” Ali shouts at me mentally as I continue to sit there.

My behavior is intensely rude, but I’m curious.

When Hondo moves, it’s so fast that it puts Mikito to shame. One hand grabs my ankle, another my arm even as I twist to the side and attempt to straight-arm him away. I don’t have the grounding to do that, and his momentum is enough to keep pushing me forward into the wall. He shifts slightly, blocking my leg before I can throw the kick, and snaps a series of punches into my short-ribs that crack them before he pins me with his forearm.

Most impressively, he punches me through most of the wall but not all the way in. With the amount of force we’re throwing around, accidentally punching through the drywall completely would not be hard. Instead, Hondo perfectly controls the amount of pressure he’s using, keeping me in the room. I grit my teeth as ribs grate against one another as they heal forcefully. Damn, he’s good.

“Greetings, Lady Kangana. Weaponmaster Ehrish,” I say from the wall, doing the best I can to keep my voice calm and controlled around the pain and budding anger. It’s been ages since I’ve been manhandled like this, and even if I was egging him on, that spark of anger at the loss of control continues to burn.

“You casually insult my lady then offer greeting to her?” Hondo growls, his grip tightening. His voice lowers as he says softly, “What game do you play, boy?”

“No game with her,” I answer him just as softly. Truth there. I was more curious about him.

“It is Lady Priya,” the Tuinnar says as she glides over to where Miranda is. The matronly human blinks then edges away, whereupon the Tuinnar sits down in her seat at the head of the table while continuing to speak to me. “A common mistake among your kind. Only my mother would be Lady Kangana. Now, do let him go, Hondo. I’m sure the Adventurer has learnt his lesson.”

Hondo drops me at her command, and with that dealt with, the lady’s secretary comes forward, announcing the lady and her titles formally. I note more than a few puzzled expressions at the titles. Titles are weird and seem to be gifted by the System for exceptional deeds or when we reach certain thresholds or gain certain Skills or lands. Most of the humans don’t have any, which leaves me with my two as a rare exception.

Most of the Lady Priya’s don’t matter as far as we’re concerned, though the Savant indicates a deep understanding of something. Unfortunately, the title itself doesn’t give more details than that and Ali’s still digging. More interesting is the fact that they don’t bother to announce Hondo. Not that his little demonstration didn’t get the point across.

“I understand you humans are much more… informal than my people. Is this not correct?” Lady Priya says, turning to speak with Miranda, who has made Eric give up his seat.

The entire table has rotated one down, leaving only Hondo, the guards, and myself still standing. When I shift my weight, Hondo shoots me a glare that keeps me standing next to the wrecked wall where he dropped me.

“Well, I don’t really know that much about Tuinnar culture, but we are informal here in Whitehorse,” Miranda says, flicking a glance at Eric. “As much as it pains some of us.”

“Well, as it is your city, I shall follow your customs. I am here to review the work that Graxan has done in his time in Whitehorse.”

“Assuming you’re talking about Lord Roxley,” Bill chimes in, leaning forward, “it sounds like you’re his boss or something.”

“No. Just a stakeholder. Graxan did borrow heavily to finance his purchase of the Village key. We are but ensuring that our investment is being handled well,” Lady Priya says, and more than a few humans look thoughtful. “Tell me, what do you think of Graxan’s leadership?”

With just those words, she opens the floodgates and suddenly people are speaking. I stand there, keeping my mouth shut while my brain picks over the information I’ve been given. I guess I’ve seen one angle of their game now.

Listening to the group, I’m somewhat amused to note that Roxley gets both praise and complaints in equal amounts. Considering Roxley’s a public persona, you’d have to figure he’s doing well. The fact that the praising and bitching comes from the same people, often in back-to-back sentences, is even more amusing.

It’s not to say I don’t know that they’re giving the young lady—old elf?—ammunition for later.

“Are Tuinnar ageless like the stories or is this just a case of Mana translation gone wrong?”

“Exaggerated. They’re longer lived than humans—figure between four to six hundred years generally. The System keeps them ticking over pretty well, but well, it’s also pretty lethal,” Ali answers.

I nod dumbly, returning to listening. All these complaints are probably not helping Roxley’s case. The fact that none of Roxley’s people are here to guide the conversation or otherwise report on what’s said is interesting too. On the other hand—I can just see Vir guiding Amelia to get me to come to listen in on all this.

The Lady Priya is good, the way she guides the conversations to raise issues and rile up the group. I’m not the only one who has noticed this—both Eric and Miranda occasionally look as if they’ve bitten into something bitter. Still, experienced politicians though they may be, the council is putty in the Envoy’s hands. Issues that were laid to rest months ago are brought up. Complaints about the lack of a safe space, the tents we had to stay in, and the way the hunters are given preferential treatment are just the start. Other complaints, like shortages and lack of variety in our food sources and the lack of emotional support and counseling, are par for the course. When the talk of emotional support and counseling gets brought up, I spot the way Hondo’s face flickers. I guess it must seem strange for someone who has grown up in the System to hear people talk about PTSD and stress from killing monsters.

“Thank you so much for your time,” Lady Priya eventually says, standing and calling the meeting to an end. “I will take all that you have said into consideration. You’ve given us much to think about. If you do have further thoughts about this or how the city might be served better, do let me know.”

Well. That’s a nice little ending—just another way to keep the council chewing over the things that Roxley hasn’t managed to make perfect. I note that she’s not promised them anything, made no indications that if she or her Lady took over, things would get better. It’s a smart play, since nothing she has said or done could be directly considered acting against Roxley. Just a stirring of the pot.

Hondo watches in silence, and when she’s finally done, he follows her out with one last, long look at me. I grin back at him, which makes his eyes narrow. Yeah, taunting the guy who kicked my ass is probably not a good idea, but I never said I was smart.

“What the hell was that about anyway?” Ali says.

“Mmm… testing. I wanted to see how far they’d push it if I pushed them,” I answered Ali.

“Learn anything?” Ali says dryly.

I send a mental shrug. Not really. I’d have preferred it if Hondo or Lady Priya were a bit more of a loose cannon. Smart, disciplined, and controlled are a tough combination to beat.

“Mr. Lee, we’ll be billing you for the damages,” Eric says, pointing at the wall, and I chuckle.

“Sure. Go ahead. Take it out of my next delivery of parts,” I drawl.

Eric’s lips tighten at my casual dismissal of his threat. Really, with the System in place, fixing up internal walls probably wouldn’t even cost a hundred Credits.

Luthien sniffs as she and Bill get up to leave. “Always causing a scene, aren’t you, John? Can’t just play along.” She falls silent when Bill puts a hand on her arm, silencing her before they walk out.

I grunt, ignoring her. I do play along. I’ve always played along—with my father, with the “yes man” culture I was brought up in, hell, even at my previous job. I played along so well till I got fired and my girlfriend left me. Well. I guess I do have a few issues I need to deal with.

Miranda makes her way to me, followed closely by Jim, my only real friends on the council. And with Miranda, I’d be more inclined to call her a sometime ally. Which is good, because while the lady might not be a fighter, she’s fierce and determined and ruthless, willing to do what it takes to keep her kid alive in this new world.

“John,” Miranda says. “Tell me, how much of what we said will you report to Lord Roxley?”

“All or none, depends on what he asks,” I answer, shrugging. “I doubt anything said here was secret.”

“There are no secrets in this world,” Jim rumbles, and I nod.

“I meant secret as in you wouldn’t want this to get back to Roxley. I am curious about why you said as much as you did to her,” I ask Miranda directly.

“Sometimes, things need to be said in a different way for others to hear,” Miranda says, her face grim.

All that was to put pressure on Roxley to improve things? Don’t they know he’s already doing the best he can? Anger flaring, I shake my head, staring at the pair.

“It doesn’t matter does it? One owner is like the other,” Jim says, his husky smoker’s voice growling out his words. “We’re still owned by them.”

I open my mouth to answer him, then shut it. After all, it’s not as if I actually have any proof of what life’s like in the other demenses. I just have Capstan’s word that Roxley is better than the others. Which, when you get down to it, isn’t particularly convincing for others. I trust Capstan, but that’s because we’ve fought and bled together.

“You’re a bit too close to this, John,” Miranda says, putting a hand on my arm. “Things aren’t that great for your average resident. We’ve still got mutations in the city itself, everyone’s complaining about the sheer amount of protein we eat all day—and the strange tastes!—and there just isn’t much to do. No television, no plays, no music except for the occasional band. Sure, we could get some of these System entertainment options, but that’s just more Credits and no one really has that much extra floating around.

“People are hurting, and all Lord Roxley seems to care about is how many Credits we can make him and when we’re buying the next building.”

My lips purse, and I have to admit, she has a point. The funny thing is that because we’ve finally had time to breathe, to relax a little and consider what has happened, everything we’ve lost is hitting harder. The friends, the family, the small luxuries are all gone, and all the wonders of the System aren’t available to most. And the few times we see those luxuries in use by others, it just makes us angrier. When we were all scrambling and fighting to get through the day, everyone was happier because we were all equal. Now, that equality is gone and the fractures are widening.

“It’s not that simple…” I say.

“I—we know. But it is that simple for most others,” Miranda states.

“You could talk to him yourself.”

“We’ve tried, but it’s hard. His… Skill makes it hard to think around him,” Miranda points out.

I sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

She nods in thanks, letting my arm go. Jim grunts, following soon after, and I find myself staring at their backs, watched only by a distrustful Eric. I wonder if he’s thinking I’m going to break something else or steal the flat screen. It is a nice flat screen…

“Are they right?” I ask my Spirit as I head out the door.

“About what?”

“That Roxley’s screwing it up?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ali says, “Maybe.Roxley’s stretched thin. He could have, he should have, bought up the buildings a while ago and resold them. That’s what they did in Carcross and Fairbanks. It’s what anyone with good sense would do.”

“And someone with more funding could fix things up faster eh?”

“Could. If they would… well, that’d depend on how useful you are to them.”

I nod. Damn. Perhaps it is time to have a real chat with Roxley.

Of course, it’s not that easy. It never is. I have to schedule an appointment for later that evening, which leaves me with nothing to do for hours. Mikito and Lana are nowhere to be found when I get out, so I just spend the time walking around the town, getting a feeling for the city again. Even though I live here, I don’t actually spend any real time in the city itself. That leaves me somewhat startled by the significant changes I see. Main Street is buzzing again, every single store filled. Instead of a single pub or restaurant, now there are a half dozen that cater to everyone with any Credits. Which in this case is mostly hunters.

And that’s the thing—the majority of the money in the city comes from hunting. Sure, crafters and makers pull together some small Credits from the goods they produce, but other than our beer, we’ve got nothing that special for the Galactic community. Nothing that would make others purchase our potions or armor from the Shop, no large trade deals. Eventually some of the materials we’re getting and altering will be in demand, but for now, we’re mostly just selling raw goods.

It’s the hunters who generate those raw goods, the hunters who get Credits from System-generated loot and hauling bits of monster back and clearing dungeons. Everything revolves around them, and everyone knows it. I have a bad feeling that this might be how knights and lords got started, but I’m not an anthropology major. It’s never a good thing when there’s such a big power imbalance, and even if people aren’t thinking of it in these terms, they certainly understand it on an intrinsic level. We’ve all grown up with the belief that at some level we’re equal, but reality and the System are kicking that right in the face.

The few hunters I see prowl the streets as if they own them, and everyone gets out of their way. Or tries to sell them something, whether it’s a new potion, piece of armor, or in some cases, themselves. Not everyone’s set up to be a fighter, but support personnel can be useful too. Even if that support is in the bedroom.

I don’t see much in terms of Yerick or Kapre, mostly because both races keep to themselves in their respective neighborhoods. In fact, the only Kapre I spot is down at the butchering yard, dickering for and purchasing the offal being thrown away. The Yerick are a bit more common, little bull-children running around, picking up flowers to chew on and being watched over by bored teenagers. Tensions might not be as high, but the aliens have their own lives to live.

Compared to Carcross, Whitehorse is plain dull. It makes the Tuinnar guards in red and yellow stand out all the more, the way they casually throw around Credits as they buy whatever catches their eye and wander around in a single layer of clothing. Probably some form of high-tech fiber, alongside natural resistances to the cold, is keeping them nice and warm. More than a few have little drones following them to store their purchases, the guards obviously not caring if the drones get stolen. About the only thing they store in their System-generated inventory is beer, which is amusing in its own form.

Eventually I end up back at Roxley’s building, ready for our chat. Surprisingly, I’m directed into his dining room rather than office and find Roxley’s personal chef, with his spherical, bulbous body, waiting for me, our places set and served. A moment later, Roxley walks in alone.

“Roxley,” I growl, staring at the plates that smell so damn good. Strips of green and purple vegetables lay alongside meat pieces and a carb dish similar to but sweeter than potatoes. “What’s going on?”

“I thought our discussion could be had in a more informal setting. You haven’t eaten, have you?” Roxley smiles at me, walking over.

I can’t help but follow the line of his lips down to his broad chest.

Mental Influence Resisted

A bit late on that one. It’s why, as much as I’m attracted to the man, I can’t, won’t act on it. I don’t like not knowing why I like him, and I don’t trust the emotions I feel around him. Even if I can resist his ability most of the time, most isn’t enough. Even if I know some of this attraction is natural. Or you know, alien natural. There’s a thing to be said about tall, dark-skinned, pointy-eared, muscular men.

“John?”

“Sorry.” I shake my head then glance to at Ali, who’s still hovering by my side. He’s been quiet for the last little bit, play-acting as if he’s watching some new reality TV show, but I know he’s paying attention. “I was hoping to discuss something important, Roxley.”

“And we will. But there’s no reason not to eat as well,” Roxley says, gesturing to the table again.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I never did finish brunch, and I give in. “All right, go. Find out what you can from his companion, will you?”

“Next you’ll be teaching me how to balance a neutron,” Ali sends back sarcastically.

“Fine, I’ll join you,” I reply, taking a seat while Ali disappears.

As per Tuinnar custom, we don’t speak about anything important while we dine, just a bunch of small talk about the city, Vir, and the food. Mostly, we talk about the food. It’s only when dinner is drawing to a close and dessert is ready that I drag the conversation back to something a little more serious.

“This dinner is a bit nostalgic, isn’t it?” I say, looking around.

“Good times. Simpler times,” Roxley answers before sliding the mousse-like substance into his mouth.

“Things seem to have gotten more complex recently.” I push my plate aside, and Roxley sighs.

“Thank you for waiting,” Roxley says. “I know it’s hard for you humans.”

“Hard…” I huff and shake my head. “For some. My family didn’t do much talking about work at dinner either. But Priya and her minion are dangerous.”

“For many reasons,” Roxley confirms.

“You know about the meeting with the humans today?”

“Was it eventful?”

“Complaining, bitching, and the like. The council wants you to push more funds into making the city better. At least stabilize the city mana flows and stop the spawnings.”

“As if it was that easy…” I raise my eyebrow, and Roxley stares at me before he answers. “We’ve never talked about the Seven Seas, have we?”

“No.”

“It is not a prosperous land. Not anymore. The cities, the lands surrounding it were destroyed when a Titan and an Aeldar Giant fought. They tore up our lands, our cities, and there were no Adventurers who could stop them. By the time they were done, my land was ruined.” Roxley says all this in a deadpan tone, keeping his emotions in check. “I was not there. I’d brought my personal guard with me on a luxury trip, and by the time we learnt of it and found a Shop to teleport back from, it was too late.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is the past. However, the barony has struggled since the fight. This, the new Dungeon World—it was, it is, a chance to finally turn the fortunes for my house and my land,” Roxley says. “Ever since the battle, we’ve lost access to high-level zones and decent dungeons. The Titan drives away all but the lowest level of monster, and even when we hunt those, we must do so carefully. It is only due to its laziness that any of my people survive.

“To buy the Key for Whitehorse, I had to call in the many favors my house had accumulated over the years. In doing so, I have diverted the resources, the guards, and the Credits from my barony. I can do little more for either location. If we are to survive, if the city is to prosper, you humans must make it so.”

I grunt, leaning back and staring at Roxley. It’s the first time he’s ever been this frank with me about the situation he’s in. Not that I haven’t gleaned some of it through previous talks, but it’s the first time he’s said it. “Capstan once said that compared to others, you’re dealing us a fair hand.”

Roxley stares at me, frowning. “That is a gambling metaphor, is it not?”

“Idiom maybe? Something like that. Sorry.” Sometimes, the System-enabled translations miss things. “You’re being fair to us and not attempting to screw the city over.”

“Ah… yes.”

“Why?”

“Enlightened self-interest. My understanding of human culture is that humans work better when their self-interest is engaged. So long as these benefits are coupled with significant downsides,” Roxley says.

“Huh.” I rub my nose. “And I guess the System provides all the downsides, eh?”

“For the most part. Though Whitehorse being taken over by the Duchess and being relegated to manual labor is hopefully a significant deterrent as well.”

“Manual labor?”

“The Duchess has little use for those who produce little. Those that do not generate sufficient Credits are either removed from her lands or become her serfs. Financial slavery until such time as they have earned enough Levels to pay off their debt,” Roxley says. “Though I must admit, the Duchess does provide training and keeps her interest rates at a justifiable level, unlike some others.”

“How does all this land thing work? I mean, you own the city and can upgrade it, but I own my house in it.”

“Ah… you are wondering how the System enforces our titles and ownership? It does not. Much like your own world’s history, ownership and control of a location may be taken away at any time. It requires force of arms,” Roxley explains then gestures downward. “In the end, control over a Shop and the City Center is most important, but many of my brethren also enact controls over movement and commerce. The level of each is up to the various forms of government to enact and, ultimately, enforce.”

“Huh.”

I fall silent for a time while Roxley sips his drink. It’s a light blue beverage that tastes somewhat similar to coffee but with more intense sour notes. I’m served coffee, which I add a large dose of sugar and milk to, contemplating all that he’s said. If I had to guess, it sounds as though our cities are basically ancient city states—more theoretical control than realistic in many ways, outside of where the guards march. Then again, I’m no history major—I just took a few classes during university. Some days, it’s frustrating running into blind spots like this.

“What’ll it take to upgrade from Village to Town?” I ask, returning to stare at the handsome lord.

“We have both the population and resident level requirements, along with the minimum number of registered building types. What we require in the end is the safe zones—and those are close. So very close.” Roxley exhales, shaking his head. “If we had but another month, it would be fine.”

“You don’t expect to get that month?” I ask.

Roxley shakes his head. “No, the Lady is already pressing ahead with her plans.”

“Which involves making you pay her back? And why the hell would you borrow from the Duchess anyway?”

“I did not. However, my creditors sold my notes to the Duchess when asked. She is… formidable and I’m sure offered more than the notes were worth,” Roxley says bitingly, his tone saying “how dumb do you think I am.” I take the rebuke quietly. “And she cannot use my notes for this. My contracts are very specific in this regard—I have until the end of the year to ensure Whitehorse is a Town. However…”

I somehow knew that Roxley had a however when he started speaking. I keep my mouth shut and let him talk.

“My liege lord has rescinded the reduced tax rate that was assigned to my barony. At this time, I have projected that I will have sufficient funds to either pay the taxes or my Credit notes if we are able to upgrade the town. Not both.”

“What happens if you can’t pay the taxes?” I ask, and he smiles wanly at me.

“A noble who cannot pay for the upkeep of gifted lands is no noble. I will be stripped of my title and the lands and, depending on the severity of my shortfall, be subject to further sanctions.”

I wince. “Well, that sounds like they’ve got you in a bind.”

“Indeed.”

“Is that it then? Or are we looking at more?”

“Definitely more. To start, I expect she will ferment further insurrection. Slowing down the purchase of buildings would be the obvious step. To ensure I cannot meet either obligation, the Duchess is likely to exert additional financial pressure on the city, potentially manipulating the market for our materials. I am sure there are other plots in play, but those are the ones we have ascertained.”

“And if all that fails, she sends in Labashi?”

“Yes,” Roxley says grimly.

“Can we beat him?”

“If they sent his entire command? No. Even a small portion would be difficult.”

“So…”

“The usual method to deal with mercenaries is to ensure that it is too costly for them to carry out their contract. Or for their employers to pay for the contract to be completed.”

“Make them bleed on the beaches and streets, eh?”

“Whitehorse has no beaches we care to defend,” Roxley says.

I sigh. Well, there goes my attempt at being smart.

We fall silent for a time before Roxley speaks again. “Do you have further questions?”

“No. Not right now,” I answer, standing at the obvious dismissal. He’s right—as fun and enlightening as this might have been, it’s time to go. One hand still on the table, I stare at the Elf, lost in thought.

“John…?”

“Sorry. I just don’t like being on the defensive.”

The Tuinnar hisses and walks to me to grip my arm. “Don’t, John. They are more powerful than you could believe. So long as we play the game as expected, they will not take further steps.”

I feel the warmth of his fingers pushing through my sleeves, warming me up. “If we do that, we’ll likely lose.”

“If we break their rules, we’ll likely lose anyway,” Roxley says, growling softly. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Fine. I just don’t like it,” I grumble. Not as if I had any actual plans, just a feeling.

Roxley releases my arm, leaving me to flex it. It’s only then that I realize how close he is, how I can almost sense his body inches away from mine. I turn toward him, and he tilts his head, the corner of his lips tugging up.

“Well. Time to go,” I say hoarsely.

“But we haven’t even trained yet,” Roxley objects, pointing toward the training floor.

I blink, recalling previous sessions where we fought and trained together, times when he was shirtless and sweating, and find myself stirring.

“Definitely time to go,” I mutter, but I find my feet refusing to move.

“Are you sure?” Roxley murmurs again, a hand lightly touching my arm.

I focus, pulling my attention and will to my feet to get them moving. Yes. Definitely time to go.

I leave to the soft, luxurious laughter that escapes way-too-kissable lips. Damn elf.

Chapter 7

Home is a short bike ride back, but long enough that I’ve cleared my head by the time I pull up. That’s a good thing because the large, tusked Orc walking out of my house’s door is not what I was expecting to see. In fact, a Hakarta coming out of my house was never something I expected. I almost go for a gun when I realize I know this particular Hakarta.

“Labashi,” I greet the large green humanoid who looks briefly surprised to see me before he gives me a huge grin.

“John,” Labashi says.

“Ali,” Ali greets himself and, seeing that neither one of us is particularly interested in having him join the conversation, returns to staring at his screens.

“Why are you here?” I growl, the conversation with Roxley still ringing in my head.

“Visiting a friend.” Labashi inclines his head inside. “I wanted to offer my commiserations to Lana for her brother.”

“Really?” I say, doubt in my voice. That seems… well… strange for someone who only knew either of them for so little a time. Or maybe the fact that I find it strange says something about me, the way I can regret and hate the deaths but at the same time not really feel them. How my feelings are always just a touch remote—all but that bubble of anger that sits in my stomach.

“Yes,” Labashi says. “I liked Richard and his sister. They are, were, strong individuals.”

“How is she?” I tilt my head to the door, curious to see what the more experienced Hakarta might have to say. Dealing with grief might be something we’ve all had to learn, but Labashi and his people are experts at it.

“I have seen worse,” Labashi says. “The first major loss is the most difficult. Some never recover.”

I grimace, wishing he had something better to say. Yet I can’t really blame him or discount what he said. I guess it’s a good thing that for me, my first loss was decades ago when my mom died. A late night, an inattentive driver, and my world changed. It took me years to crawl out of the hole that put me in, and my father never did. What had been a strained relationship became something so acrimonious that even now, knowing he’s dead, I can find little there but rage.

“John.” Labashi’s voice cuts through my ruminations as he steps past me, headed back to the city.

“Labashi,” I call, making the Hakarta turn. “What are you doing here?”

“My job,” Labashi replies then continues walking.

I say goodbye to his back, watching him leave while I mull over his words. Inside, I don’t find Lana working in the kitchen or dining room, and the door to her room is closed. For a moment, I consider knocking but then push aside the thought. I don’t know what else I could say that I haven’t. Time. That’s what she needs.

I wake to the 1812 Overture blaring at thousands of decibels. I roll and snatch a pistol from a chair, my sword appearing in my other hand, only to find no visible threats. A quick scan of my minimap shows me nothing new either, even as I hear tramping and shouting above me as Lana, her pets, and Mikito waken.

“What the hell, Ali?” I shout as the music turns off.

“Incoming trouble. Need you to get dressed, boy-o.” Ali shoots up, straight through the walls to even more screams and shouts.

Soon enough, the clamor calms down and Ali floats back through the floor with a shit-eating grin as I finish dressing.

“Did you have to use the cannons?” I grumble, slapping around my neck the circle that makes up my helmet.

“No.” Ali smirks and points. “Come on, slowpoke. The girls are mostly dressed already.”

And I bet he enjoyed buzzing on them. Seriously, he’s a disembodied piece of energy and concepts in his home dimension—how the hell did he turn into a minor pervert? Then again, as I clip on my belt and head out the door, Ali did say he drew his “human” form from my mind, so perhaps I should stop asking those kinds of questions. I might not like the answer.

“John.” Lana’s face is washed, devoid of any form of makeup.

Mikito, on the other hand, seems to have found the time to put on the lightest of touches, which says something about her speed and priorities.

“Nice of all you to join us,” Ali says, a giant blue screen blooming in front of all three of us. “We’ve got a swarm coming right down the river to hit Riverdale. They don’t look like they’re going to stop anytime soon.”

“How?” I frown, staring at the details on the map. The way the purple dots bob and move, I figure we’ve got at least an hour before they arrive. Which makes no sense, since even with his greater scan radius, there’s no way Ali’s able to reach that far.

Mikito offers the screen the briefest of glances before she heads to the kitchen to raid the fridge.

“Tapped into the city’s expanded sensor grid. The Kapre tied themselves to the city and the surrounding trees,” Ali explains as he gestures us out. “Extended our sensor net, at least on this side of the river, a good few miles.”

“Nice…” I admit. I grab the package of rice balls that Mikito hands out before we all exit, the puppies and Anna already gathered outside, waiting for us. I’d been wondering what the Kapre had added to the city and I guess now I’ve got my answer. “So the hunters have all been alerted?”

“Yup.” Ali nods, gesturing to the lights flicking on all around us. Formerly dark houses are filling with light as the residents wake up to the new danger. “Plan six is already in play.”

“Six?”

“Yes, John, six,” Lana says bitingly as she climbs onto Howard. “We’ve been planning for an attack on this side of the river for a while now. Six is for when we’ve got enough warning to evacuate the non-combatants to the other side of the river.”

“Oh…” I feel kind of foolish. Of course they’ve got plans. It’s not as if the fact that Riverdale is pretty much our most unguarded flank is unknown, nor is the fact that we’re seeing more and more swarms. Even if we do our best to cut down on the Bosses on this side of the river, it was bound to happen eventually.

“Now come on,” Lana says to me irately, suiting action to words by kicking Howard into gear.

Mikito’s already on Wynn, and the pair of them ride off, leaving me standing next to Sabre. So it’s like that, eh? I get on hastily and get moving, the too-quiet Mana engine switching on without a sound. Still weird.

The problem with defending Riverdale is that there really isn’t a natural chokepoint or even a simple demarcation of urban and nature. At best, there’s the dirt road that cuts behind the suburb, but with the way most of the houses abut the forest, there’s no real clear ground to fight from. We can, and probably have, thrown up Mana shields around the whole suburb, but the larger the shield, the less powerful it is. Unless, of course, you get a bigger Mana engine and battery to power it.

“Care to fill me in?” I send to the Spirit after a few moments of thought. Trying to figure out the plan seems silly, considering they have a plan.

“Pretty simple. We’re hunkering down in a few houses along the line that have been reinforced for just this purpose. Long-range weaponry and casters being primary, a few melee supporters in the mix. Mobile troops here and here”—as Ali speaks, my map flashes in time—“with a final reserve here. Mid-way fallback points are here and here with final fallback at the bridge.”

I grunt, tracking over the map. If we fall back to the bridge, the school and the last few people who haven’t made it out of the tents are going to lose everything they’ve got. Again. Hopefully they’ve grabbed anything important and stuffed it into their inventory, but with the panic that’s probably spreading in the school, it’s unlikely they got it all. Still, things can be replaced. Us humans are getting a lot scarcer.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in the middle house,” Ali says, flashing it green.

Makes sense, we’ll be able to… I clamp my mouth shut when I watch Lana and Mikito split to head to their own posts. Right. No use putting all of us in the same house. We’d hold that location and maybe lose the others. Better to split up the heavy hitters for where they can do the most good.

Glancing upward, I watch as the flood of purple dots continues to advance. “Any data on levels yet?”

“Drones are on their way. Data should be back in another ten.” Before I can even ask, Ali continues. “The Kapre had the choice of giving us range or accurate data. We picked range.”

Fair enough. I still wish we had more information sooner, but it is what it is. I’m pulling up to the designated house, another Riverdale special with its ground floor and partially-submerged basement. A long, deep backyard runs into the woods and a small bike path. A kid’s playset and a pair of trees lie trampled on the ground, smashed apart by a metal dinosaur that shifts from foot to foot, moonlight gleaming off its body. I stare at it and its likely controller, a half-Dragon man, who’s busy planting a series of explosives into the ground and directing others who are busy shooting, blasting, and chopping back the forest. A part of me wonders why we’ve never done that before, but I’m smart enough to keep my mouth shut. After all, it’s not as if I did it either.

“Tim,” I call to the lizardman.

He turns toward me, flashing a wide grin filled with shark-like teeth. I have to admit, it’s a bit disturbing, but I don’t let that show on my face. Tim’s dealt with enough shit for the way he looks after he made the change. No point in adding to it, especially when I know from the other side what it’s like to have others judge you based on your looks only. The number of times I’ve been shouted at to go “home” while in Vancouver isn’t something I can be bothered to count.

“You in charge here?” I ask.

“Not anymore,” Tim says, grinning. “Heard you were assigned here, so I’m handing this over to you.”

“Nope.” Ali floats over and shakes his head. “Boy-o here doesn’t know the plan. Not really. You’re in charge, Timmy’s.”

“Don’t call me that!” Tim says, and I chuckle slightly while Ali smirks. Admittedly, the loss of our favorite donut place is more of a sore spot for some. Personally, I thought their coffee was okay and their donuts stopped tasting right a while ago. “And I don’t want the responsibility.”

“Suck it up, scaleycup,” Ali retorts.

Before this can escalate any further, I point at the big dinosaur-shaped creature that stomps around on its clawed four legs, its extra-long neck twisting and turning as it scans for trouble, tail lashing out behind it. “What’s with the dinosaur?”

“It’s a Dragon. Sort of.”

“It’s kind of missing its wings. Or you know, ridges on the back and a much longer body if you’re going Chinese,” I point out.

“I haven’t put the wings in yet. Do you know how expensive anti-gravity engines are?” Tim grumbles, and I just look at him, sitting on my hovering bike. He blinks and nods. “Well, yeah. Okay. Fine. I need to put a lot of them in to keep the entire thing stable.”

“So you made a dinosaur,” I point out.

“It’s a wingless Dragon!”

“Di-no-saur.”

“Go plant some mines!” Tim snaps.

I chuckle, transforming Sabre before walking toward the rest of the group to do as he says. Well, that settled that.

Let me be clear. When I say we planted mines and trapped the area, this wasn’t a professional job. Sure, we’d picked up a few tricks along the way—maps of where all the mines were, secondary triggers just in case the first didn’t work—but we mostly just stuck them in the ground and moved on. The mines and grenades aren’t going to do much damage, so no one is willing to spend a ton of time on it. They’ll add damage and hurt whatever comes, but conventional weaponry in general just isn’t that powerful. It’s why it’s so cheap in the Shop. Anything mass-produced has a tendency to be reduced in effectiveness—or maybe it’s more accurate to say it’s not boosted—by the System. Still, if my experience in the Spore dungeon was anything to go by, explosions and flames do a lot in terms of sowing confusion. And I’ll admit it, I add a couple of the more expensive Chaos mines as a tribute to Richard. The man always did love adding those to a fight.

By the time we pull back to the house to settle down for the fight, the data from the drones is streaming in. Not as good as anything Ali could get if he was there himself, but the images are enough to give us an idea of what we’re looking at. Unsurprisingly, the first wave is comprised of the lower-level monsters that hang around the safety of the city. Most of these we leave to the automated defenses and Tim’s dinosaur. The hunters that sit, squat, and peek out from the windows of the house add the weight of their own firepower once in a while, enough so that Tim shouts at them to slow down and conserve their Mana and charges.

Out on the lawn, there’s just me and a man who looks like a cross between a lumberjack and a pro linebacker. I let him do most of the work with a sword the size of a spear, which he wields with ease at any monster that breaks past the defenses. Few enough right now, though I watch others flow into the city through blind spots between the front line.

“Ali…”

“Already on it, boy-o. We’ve got mobile shields on the way to plug the gaps.”

With a thought, I’m floating a few feet, enough to get a better view of the forest in front without getting too high and blocking the shots of those behind me. A few feet isn’t a lot, but it’s enough for me to start adding the weight of my own firepower to the line. I let loose my newly upgraded Mana Darts, a half dozen glowing blue missiles of irritation. They hit, they hurt, then someone else’s shot kills them..

All the while, I’m watching the dots in front of me shift from the purple of unknowns to the grays of low-level creatures, then to the blues of those only mildly below my level and the greens of those level appropriate. The fact that it’s all based off my numerical level means the data isn’t exactly accurate, but I’ve gotten used to reading it anyway. End of the day, blues are good, very good. It means that the hunters with me, the fighters, and the automated defenses can handle them. If we start seeing greens in any real numbers, then we’re in trouble.

Minutes tick on. Monsters fall and pile up before me and always, always there are more. Conservative firing or not, the hunters behind me run out of beam rifle charges and have to switch batteries or to projectile weaponry. The slack in fire, the break in shooting, means more monsters make it through and the linebacker has to pick up the slack. I could look at his name, figure out who he is, but I’d forget it soon enough anyway.

“Tim,” I shout over the mic, raising my hand and opening up with the Inlin attached to the mecha, watching as it spews death. “You want me to push them back?”

“We’re good. Hold back on your Mana,” Tim says over the com.

“My level’s pretty good,” I add, glancing at the bar that has barely shifted from three quarters down, even with the firepower I’ve thrown around. Tim’s never fought with me before, and unlike me, he doesn’t have Ali feeding him stats on everyone around.

Silence. Then Tim says, “Light them up.”

My lips widen and I raise my hand, calling lightning to my fingers. I’ll admit, months after I was able to summon the forces of nature for the first time, I still can’t believe I’m doing this. As much as I bitch about the System, there are perks. I hold back for a second, reaching for that other sense that Ali awakened in me so long ago. An Elemental Affinity they call it, a sense for the forces that make up the world. Sensing it is only the first part. Making adjustments comes after that. Small ones, tiny enough by themselves, that build and build, then I let the lightning loose from my hands. There is no pain, just a slight shuddering as electrons pull through me and outward before I play the electricity across the forest and the monsters. The creatures twitch and fall from the attack, lightning sparking and cooking flesh as I float higher. I barely notice poorly aimed blasts to my back, Sabre’s armor shielding me from the majority of the damage.

“Oy! Friendly there,” Ali shouts for me while I cut off the lightning.

The Swarm lies twitching and smoking in front of me, the few still alive finished off by quick blasts. Simple. Easy.

And of course, that’s when things go to hell.

Red dots, a lot of them.

“Tim, you seeing this?” I snap as I float back down.

“I see it. This…”

“I know. Pull back?”

“One second,” Tim says, and I know he’s consulting with whoever is running the whole show.

“Ali. This seems… wrong. We’ve never had a Swarm in the middle of the night before. Doesn’t make sense for it to happen—so far, it seems most of the major predators are day creatures, and they’re the ones that dictate the Swarm movement. No reason for a Swarm to start if there isn’t enough pressure, which shouldn’t come at night. And reds? That’s Level 40 plus.”

“I know, boy-o. I’m looking into it, but I ain’t seeing anything strange. If someone, something screwed with the monsters around here, it’s too far back for me to tell.”

I don’t have to wait long before the call for a general fallback comes over the radio. The mobile troops move into the street to lend their firepower to make pullout easier, allowing the linebacker and our hunters a chance to disengage. I don’t move though, staring out into the distance, not firing.

“John! We’re pulling back. Come on!” Tim shouts, but I shake my head, still staring into the distance.

“Shit. I know that look, boy-o. Forget it.”

“Tim…”

“Here we go again,” Ali says plaintively.

“John?” Tim’s voice sounds a little harried.

“I’m going to check something out,” I say then take off running straight into the woods.

“John!”

Tim’s shout gets lost as I kill the audio connection. I leave him my video feed, though who knows if it’ll still be transmitting by the time I get there. There being uncertain and unknown, since I’m working off a hunch. An educated hunch, but a hunch nonetheless.

This isn’t the first time I’ve gone running through a Swarm. I figure it’s, like, the third time. If you count the couple of runs through the Spore dungeon, it’s my fifth time bouncing through clumps of monsters. All that is to say, there’s a trick to it, one that can be acquired through experience, preservation, and a willingness to do incredibly stupid things.

First thing to know, always keep moving. Staying still is death. I’m pounding ground since the hover ability on the mecha can’t keep up with the speed I’m moving at. I do use the anti-gravity engines in small measure, giving me additional distance on each leap, but it’s all about momentum. Monsters in a Swarm aren’t out to kill and maim. They’re mostly running away from something, like a bear running from a forest fire. It isn’t necessarily dangerous if you get out of its way. Of course, when they’re running right into your house or city, getting out of the way is much harder.

“Yahoo!’ Ali screams, laughing as he flies above me.

I can’t help but grin, bouncing off the ground and bowling a giant slug-like creature out of the air through sheer momentum. It splats against a six-legged cat monster, then I’m gone.

Second lesson—sometimes, going through rather than around can be more efficient. Physics in a System world is messed up, but momentum is still momentum, which means a fast-moving heavy object is still more likely to smash apart a tree or monster than the other way around. Or you know, at least push it aside.

I skip across the ground, get into a slide, and pass under the giant rock monster that swings at me. I don’t even bother opening fire on it, though Ali goes into a panicked climb as he tries to get away from one of the few monsters that can not only see but hurt him. Unfortunately, my slide keeps going long after I want to stop and the weird slime creature that glomps along looks to be interested in eating me.

Third lesson—always have another trick up your sleeve. I flick on Blink Step and teleport to the side, slamming my fist to the side to kick my entire body up and let me keep running. I toss a plasma grenade off-hand into the path of the slime monster just because I’m tired of getting eaten. Like, seriously, I’m not into slime monsters.

I keep running, dodging deeper and deeper into the Swarm, watching as the blue and green dots disappear from my map to be replaced by red dots. Many of these monsters are less panicked, more angry, and I find myself having to shoot, cast, and dodge more than ever. Frankly, it’s getting dangerous, even for me, but whatever I’m looking for, I haven’t seen it yet.

“Ali? Got anything?”

“Nope,” the diminutive Spirit sends right back, probably expecting the question.

I call forth my sword, using it to impale an ugly horse-faced demon as I go by, it’s sex dangling dangerously low. No city for you. I leave my sword in it, continuing on as I drop another pair of grenades behind me. As I said, they don’t do a lot of damage, but the confusion and fire help.

When the sea of monsters around me becomes almost purely red, I know my time to cut and run is near. I need some results before turning back becomes an impossibility. Did I mention that Fate really doesn’t like me?

Just about when I think that, I get an answer. It’s just not the one I expected.

The halberd cuts through Sabre’s armor and into me with ease, catching me mid-bounce and throwing me for a hundred or so feet and through a couple of trees. Pain racks my body as broken ribs grind in my chest, blood pouring from the wound and staining the mecha red. A part of me is wondering how the hell I got blindsided like that, but I’m already triggering Sabre’s shield and my own. I’d have had them up earlier, but Sabre’s shield drains her battery fast, which is why I try not to use it when I don’t need to.

It’s a good thing I’ve got the shields up though, because the follow-up attack crashes right into Sabre’s shield and is stopped only by my own Skill. I stare at the glowing pale-blue blade in disbelief before I trigger Sabre’s mini-missiles.

My attacker jumps back a short distance, his weapon spinning and slicing as he tears the missiles apart. While I struggle to my feet, the son of a bitch cuts my missiles apart. With a halberd. It’s times like this that I hate the System. Still, he might have sliced the missiles in half, but I can remotely trigger them, so I do. The ensuing explosion is less useful for damage purposes—which sucks because those are expensive, hand-crafted missiles—and more useful for giving me time to actually assess what I’m seeing and feeling while I back away.

Feeling first. I’m not sliced in half. More like a third off my hit points. The cut itself was probably about four inches deep, but Sabre’s automatic healing processes has clogged the bleeding and started injecting healing potions directly into my body. It’s the usual mix of a regeneration booster and a direct healing potion. Sabre’s nanites are also flowing toward the armor plate, patching the hole as fast as they can.

Seeing next. My attacker’s tall, thin, fast, and deadly. He’s dressed in high-tech camouflage gear that hides his face and body, but the way he moves and fights speaks of years of mastery at combat. Ali is flying back to catch up with us but circling wide as if the Spirit is scared of him.

“Sorry, boy-o. He dropped out of hiding just as you got near him.” Ali squints at the figure before me. Data blooms on top of the figure, but it’s not particularly useful. Just a lot of question marks.

Sneaky Bastard (Level ?? ???)

HP: ???/???

MP: ???/???

“And his data’s all hidden.”

“No shit,” I answer. I raise my Inlin, tracking the masked figure with it while I keep my other hand down and to the side, ready to call forth and use my sword if he gets in too close. Of course, with that polearm, he’s got the reach advantage on me.

Whatever internal debate my attacker was having, it’s resolved when he flickers toward me. I’d say faster than I’ve ever seen, but that’s a lie. Mikito, boosted by a Thousand Steps and her Haste Skill, is just as fast. Which is a good thing for me because I spar with her quite often.

I catch the polearm with my summoned sword’s guard and lash out a kick to a kneecap. It’s dodged easily, and his follow-up attack with the butt of his halberd crunches into my shield. I watch as the barely regenerated shield flickers and dies again, and I stop playing around.

I throw on Thousand Steps, Blink Step to the side of him, and cut fast. He’s already moving, dodging backward to get back into his preferred range, but I expected that. I trigger Blade Strike with my cut, sending the blue edge of force outward and opening a cut on the man’s armor. It’s not a powerful strike, but it does score the armor, opening a wound on his body. I pile on the Blade Strikes, one after the other.

After the third attack, they stop hitting because the bastard is weaving between the strikes, shifting his body in weird angles as he closes the distance. Having shaken off the surprise, he’s back in my face and attacking and it’s my turn to retreat, dodge, and generally try to stay alive. It’s not that simple though, as I realize I’m seriously out-matched. Every shot, every spell, every cut I throw is anticipated and I’m somehow never in the right place to land the hit. All the while, he’s chipping away at my Soul Shield then Sabre’s armor, the halberd a twirling blur that rocks me side to side.

Unable to get away, pushed into a corner, I open up with the barrage of missiles again now that they’ve reloaded. This time, my attacker doesn’t bother to dodge them, tanking the damage to stay close. However, for that brief second when fire illuminates everything, I disappear.

As I said, always have an extra trick. And the QSM is mine.

Chapter 8

I crouch low by instinct as my body shifts over to the other dimension partially, the QSM holding me partway between each. Now that I’m hidden and untouchable—mostly—I back away. That glowing pale-blue Skill probably could hurt me, even through the dimensional wall, if it hit. One thing I learnt when I fought the Hakarta, the QSM might be powerful, but its shift is distinctive, which is why I waited until my attacker couldn’t see before I used it. Now he’s spinning around, searching for me on the wrong plane, probably thinking I Blink Stepped away.

As I back off, I have time to really study my opponent. There’s something eerily familiar about the way he moves. I had gotten that feeling when we fought, and it strikes me again. I just can’t put a finger on it. Not yet.

“Ali, anything you can tell me?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s the reason the Swarm happened. I think he’s been pushing the Bosses around, creating the environment for one.”

“You can do that?”

“Well, he can.”

I hear the slight incredulity in Ali’s thoughts as well. Jesus. Perhaps it’s time to get out of here.

I really should remember not to tempt Fate like that. Pretty much the moment I think it, he shifts and moves, crossing to where I am, his polearm glowing with blue light. I throw myself to the side, but I’m too slow, too surprised to get out of the way properly. I feel the blue light tear through me, pulling apart atoms and locking up muscles in agony. My shields are down—can’t keep them up in this state—so I’m just a sitting duck as he lashes out again and again and I scramble to get away. My hit points are falling like a waterfall, dropping below 40% in seconds.

I’m too exposed between dimensions. With a thought, I drop, fading back into reality. Before I can stand, he’s on me, a hand clamping my arm. He grinds down, inhuman strength warping armor until he reaches the QSM embedded in my flesh, then he keeps squeezing. I hear the crack of my arm breaking, along with the QSM, but I’m too focused on his other hand. The polearm is held up overhand and stabbing down and I can’t get away.

Ali swoops in, catching the blade at the edge and pushing it aside just enough that it misses my neck and rips apart the armor around it. I scream, pulling on my gift, and Blink away, stumbling. I don’t hesitate this time, Blinking again and again. On the third, I drop a series of grenades before I Blink again, making Sabre inject a Mana potion into my body to give me the energy to do so.

In the corner of my eyes, I see Ali’s dot flicker and vanish, banished. I snarl, but I can’t stop, can’t wait. Running isn’t the best option, but it’s the only option here. He’s too fast to fight at range, too good to fight at melee, and my tricks don’t seem to be working. I run, Thousand Steps and Blink Step taking me farther away with each breath, my ruined hand and QSM clutched to my chest. I run, because staying means my death.

“John!”

The shout brings me back to my senses, Sabre finally in contact with the city. Ali’s still banished, so I’m limited to what on-board software and my Skills can provide in terms of information. It’s not bad, mind you, and outside of the main path of the Swarm, I’m able to heal and kill on my way back. My left arm’s fixed and working again, though the QSM is still broken. To say I’m angry about it is probably an understatement, but underlying the anger is fear. I’ve never had a fight be so one-sided before, have it dominated completely from start to finish.

“I’m here,” I reply, glancing at my Mana bar. I have to admit, I’ve been keeping my Mana high just in case I need to run again. As much as I’d love to pull Ali back, I definitely don’t want to be caught out here again.

“What the hell happened?” Tim’s harried voice comes back. “And why the hell did you leave?”

“Had a hunch. It paid off. I’m coming in from the other side of the river. Think you guys can drop the shield for me?”

“One second…” Tim answers then falls silent.

Within minutes, I catch sight of the walls that make up the start of the defenses and the slightest shimmer in the sky that indicates the shield is still up. To my right, I see the bridge and the guard posts being swarmed by monsters, bolts of blue mana beams, red flames, and I hear the crack of projectiles erupting from the wall and the defenders. Behind the monstrous attackers, Riverdale is ablaze, houses and trees on fire. Thankfully, it seems to be relatively contained, the snow on the ground keeping it from becoming a full-out inferno.

“Redeemer,” Capstan, the Yerick’s First Fist and titular leader, rumbles over the communication channel. “We are not able to drop the shield for you. We do have some minor problems on the river. Can you deal with it?”

I grunt, looking at the low-running, half-frozen river, and see what they mean. The shield is holding up quite well, but the small pile-up of aquatic and semi-aquatic monsters on the water’s surface are clawing and biting as they batter at the barrier. Their constant attacks are weakening the shield slowly, and if they aren’t stopped, they’ll eventually tear it open and leave us vulnerable to being flanked. Raising the Inlin, I target the monsters, picking them off from behind as I float forward.

An hour later, I’m done shooting and looting the corpses and have stuck most of them in my Altered Space, leaving me floating in the middle of the river, occasionally adding the weight of my spells to the pile of monsters still trying to cross the bridge. Luckily, the vast majority of the creatures can’t fly—and those that can rarely bother us. Unfortunately, the corpse pile in front of the wall is so high that I can barely see the monsters I’m supposed to kill. I can shoot farther downriver, and I do, but that doesn’t really help relieve the pressure at the wall itself. I’m mostly just stuck, floating and waiting, watching the pile of red dots slowly disappear, some being killed, others following the river farther north.

When the shield finally lowers, I breathe a sigh of relief and float up to the bridge. I’m already working my fingers, calling Ali back to this dimension. I doubt my attacker will make an attempt now. Ali shimmers into existence, purple, green, and yellow colors swirling before he arrives with an audible pop, clad in his usual orange jumpsuit and looking uncharacteristically serious. I guess getting killed can do that to a Spirit.

“Redeemer. Care to explain why you abandoned your post?” Capstan rumbles, hands on his hips and neck stretched forward as he stands on the wall with the rest of our fighters. I watch his short tail wave slowly, methodically.

“Had a hunch the Swarm wasn’t natural. Thought I’d check it out,” I explain, ignoring the threatening nature of his words. I like Capstan, but the Yerick is used to working with his clan where his word is law.

“Was it?” Mikito asks.

I look at the little Japanese woman, flicking a glance at her still-dripping naginata, before nodding slowly. It takes me only a second to spot Lana, knee deep in the bodies, looting. Surprisingly, Aiden’s on the walls too, earphones on and staring away from the carnage with an indescribably sad expression. That man’s bleeding heart is going to get him killed someday.

“Sort of,” Ali answers for me while I look around. “We found the instigator. I’m sending you guys the data. Boy-o got his ass kicked though.”

“So did you,” I point out to Ali, who sticks his tongue out in reply before wincing at the movement.

I see worried looks cross more than one face. Outside of potentially Capstan, I’m stronger, faster, and tougher than anyone here.

“This seems to be information Lord Roxley should learn of,” rumbles Capstan.

Ali snorts, about to retort, and I shoot the Spirit a look.

Capstan picks up on the byplay and inclines his head. “Do we know who this was?”

“No real proof. As you can see, he’s all covered up,” I reply then pause, considering adding my suspicions. Eventually, I choose to stay silent. Even an old dog like me can learn.

Capstan notes the hesitation and snorts, nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t push. Leveling charges without proof is probably a good way of getting into real trouble.

“How’d the defense do?” I ask, glancing around. “We going to be able to reclaim Riverdale?”

“We held them at the wall with minimal issues. Allowing them into the chokepoint ensured that the shield was not over-burdened and allowed us to deal with the Swarm. No major injuries and no deaths,” Capstan replies, shrugging broad shoulders. “We will be sending in groups to verify the damage and deal with the fires soon, once the Swarm fully disperses.”

I nod and sigh. “I’ll join them. I should check out my house too.”

Capstan nods, and I glance at Mikito, who shakes her head at my unasked question, pointing at Lana. I stare at the redhead, who’s focused on looting, and I nod. Yeah, best to have Mikito keep an eye on the lady. It’s not as if I’m that worried about an attack in town. That would be a touch too blatant I think.

Coming home, I stare at the remains of my house. The good news is that it hasn’t caught fire and the stand-alone workshop is mostly in one piece. Bad news is that, reinforced walls or not, the house didn’t survive the Swarm. I don’t know if it was one huge monster or a series of medium-sized ones that knocked down the walls, but I guess it really doesn’t matter.

89 Alsek Rd.

Current Owner: John Lee, Adventurer

Purpose: Residence

Status: 84% Structural Damage

A thought is all I need to call up the next screen.

Cost for Repairs: 22,987 Credits

Expensive. It’s more expensive than buying the actual building initially, even if it was discounted. I’ve managed to upgrade it a few times, so the cost isn’t completely out to lunch. If I get someone with skills or the right Class, I could have them do the repairs for a lot less. I raise my hand to pay for it, knowing that it’ll take a chunk of my Credits, then hesitate, realization flowing through me.

Gods. Of course. That’s what the Swarm was for. They weren’t looking to kill us or hurt us. They were looking to make us waste our Credits, waste our time and effort rebuilding. Riverdale will never be particularly safe, not without a lot more effort put into developing walls, pits, and other defenses. It’s just too spread out and exposed.

“First Fist. Lord Roxley,” I greet both of them as they pick up my call. “I’m standing in front of my destroyed house and I’m thinking that this was the point. I could fix it but—”

“But it would be destroyed again in short order. Perfect plausible deniability,” Roxley says. “Yes, we know.”

“Oh…” I fall silent, shaking my head. I guess when it comes to the politics of this stuff, I’m still behind. Well, at least I figured it out. Not completely, of course. We could buy the identity of my attacker from the Shop, but considering he had Skills that hid his identity, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was very expensive. And then what would we do? Accuse him and end up in a fight that we know we’re already going to lose? Better to avoid that discussion for now.

“We have already informed many of the residents that we have arranged housing on this side of the river temporarily. The General Council has been informed of the likelihood of further damage to residences in Riverdale,” Roxley says.

“The Yerick have offered to put up some of those displaced in our settlement,” Capstan adds.

I blink, trying to figure out how many would actually take them up on the offer. Then again, most of these people were living in tents not so long ago. The Yukon winter isn’t particularly comfortable to live in with only a single layer of thin polyester between you and the howling winds.

“I guess you guys have it figured out.” I kill the channel before they can answer and look up at my Spirit. “Ali? Any suggestions of where we’re going to crash?”

“Well, Capstan did say the Yerick are taking in strays.”

“No.”

“John…”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe ask the girls?”

I nod. True. If anyone has an extra space or know of any extra space, it’d be Lana. After all, between her involvement in the city and the foundation she’s set up, she’s probably got the best connections. Even if she’s been shirking her responsibilities lately.

I cast one last look at the house, wondering if I should go into the ruins to pick up anything. In the end, I don’t. There’s nothing in there that I really need. Everything important, everything expensive or System-registered is on me. The rest—clothing, food, and furniture—doesn’t matter. I was never one to put up photos, and when the electronics died, that destroyed everything else I kept. Now all I have are fading memories, glimpses of the past and flashes of what my sister looked and sounded like. Just ghosts in my soul.

“John?”

I blink, finding my hands aching from how tightly I’ve closed them. Damage monitors flicker, telling me that Sabre’s gauntlets have taken damage while I was off thinking.

“Sorry. Thinking. You’re right, let’s talk to the girls.”

I’m not sure it’s a good thing or a bad thing that Ali was right. Lana did have a place for us to crash. The fact that it was the floor of the Nugget… well, that was just the way it was. I sigh, shaking my head as I lever myself straight after only a few hours of sleep. Not that I needed much more physically, but mentally, I could probably have used a few more hours. Still, the Nugget needs to open and at least breakfast is on its way. Looking around, I note that Lana’s still in the office, probably crashed out on the couch inside.

“John,” Mikito greets me as she walks out of the ladies’ room. She looks all put together, shining with that weird too-clean look of a Clean spell.

“Morning.” I push tables and chairs into place before seating myself. I cast a simple Clean spell on myself, twitching as a thousand feathery fingers run down my body and clear away the dirt and grime. Mana drops, and in a second, I’m clean but feeling slightly raw. Did I mention that it also exfoliates?

“I was reviewing the fight footage,” Mikito dives right in, taking a seat next to me. “He uses a polearm too.”

“Mmhmmm…” I answer as Sarah troops in.

Richard’s ex dumps a pot of coffee and two cups in front of us. I smile my thanks and she inclines her head before heading back into the kitchen.

“He’s good. Very good. Different style, more Chinese, but very good. You need more training if you wish to face him again,” Mikito says, pulling a cup to her.

“Huh. I was hoping I’d just let you deal with him next time,” I tease, stirring sugar into my coffee.

“Don’t have the Levels,” Mikito says, shaking her head.

I sigh. She’s right. There’s the thing—skill matters, but Levels really matter. “Recommendations?”

She purses her lips, thinking. “I’ll review it more. Let you know.” Mikito’s black hair sways as she glances back at the closed office door. “John… Lana. I’m worried.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, urging her on.

“She’s not handling Richard’s death well.” Mikito looks down at her hands. Her voice drops as she continues to speak. “Not that there’s a good way when you lose someone. But she’s not talking. Or raging. No crying. She’s just… focused.”

“I’ve noticed.” I look at the door again then glance upward, calling Ali’s attention back to us. “You got anything to add?”

Ali’s lips purse and he stares at us. “She’s in denial.”

“Figured that. She’s obsessed with Credits right now. Why?”

“I can find out more, but she’s a friend. If we do this…” Ali says hesitantly.

“Crossing a line?”

“Definitely.” Ali nods firmly. “There’s basic data searches and then there’s this.”

I look at Mikito, who returns my gaze. She considers for a moment before she nods firmly and I nod once. I guess we’re committed to this then. Breach of privacy and all. I just hope what we learn is worth it.

Talk drops off as Sarah comes in with a plate of bacon, and I pour the coffee as we get ready for another great day in the city.

Chapter 9

Swarm or not, life goes on. In days, the city has fallen back into its new pattern. Our guests continue to make their presence known, poking around town and setting up a series of meetings with various individuals. Nothing that can ever be considered hindrances, but the background grumbling about the state of affairs in the city grows. Unsurprisingly, humans being humans, not everyone agrees to staying out of their homes in Riverdale or refusing to fix them up. Futile or not, I can understand clutching to something, anything that reminds you of your past. Understand, if not relate to.

Mikito and I pool our Credits and pick up a small apartment downtown once we realize there isn’t a better option. Lana refuses to spend her Credits or stay with us, citing the pets as an excuse. She ends up staying in the Nugget’s office, where we meet her for breakfast every day. The rings under her eyes have gotten darker and I know she’s not sleeping as much as she needs. Enhanced constitution or not, we’re still mostly human and need a few hours every day. Even her pets look a bit worn down. I have a sneaking suspicion she’s been hunting with them at night, alone.

Lana refuses to speak about it, leaving Mikito and I to wonder and worry. Ali hasn’t provided us any further details, just asking us to be patient. I’m not entirely sure what the holdup is, but then again, I don’t have access to the System like he does.

Perhaps it’s the constant death, the on-going pressure of annihilation, or just the Council’s desire to give people something, anything to celebrate that has the streets decked out for Christmas day. Preparations took surprisingly little time. Skills and magic can make a lot of things, so giant Santa sculptures, thirty-foot-tall snow slides, bouncy castles, and party decorations litter the downtown. They’ve turned Main St. into the main party area, with tables full of food and drink and trapped Fire Elementals giving off light and heat in equal order. A good thing too, with temperatures sitting at -30°C tonight before the wind chill.

Everyone who can be spared from the city defenses are there, Yerick and Kapre mixing with humans. Most of the humans are busy explaining Christmas food and rituals to the aliens in stilted, uncomfortable conversations. As usual, the hunting groups mix the best—the shared danger and risk having broken down the barriers between the races.

Well, the hunting groups and the children. Kids, once they’ve realized that neither group is inherently dangerous, get along extremely well. Mixed groups of children race through the streets and the giant bouncy hall set up next to the bottom of 2nd St, playing with the wild abandon that only children have. It’s good to see them, hear them laughing again. The first few months, there wasn’t much laughter. Even now, the occasional human child will drop out of play as bad memories surface, but their minders are more than used to that, offering cuddles, kind words, and sweets as necessary.

Everyone’s having fun in the main square, laughing and dancing and passing along small gifts. So of course, I’m out here on the walls, staring into the dark of the night. Other than Tim’s dinosaur drone, I’m by myself, holding the south wall on the off-chance something might test our defenses tonight. I turn away from the party, commanding the magnification to drop off as I stare at the road before me. It’s good that people are enjoying themselves, taking a break. Perhaps this will quiet some of the grumbling I’ve heard recently.

“John,” Mikito greets me as she climbs up next to me.

“Mikito. What are you doing here?” I jerk my head back toward the city. “Why aren’t you at the party?”

“I was. People were wondering where you were.”

“Ah…” I fall silent, shaking my head. “I don’t celebrate Christmas. Figured I might as well let others who do so have fun.”

“Oh?” Mikito raises an eyebrow, propping her naginata up against the wall she leans on.

“Yeah. My family wasn’t Christian. My dad thought the entire thing strange. He never had Christmas growing up. Actually made it difficult for us in school…” I sigh, recollections of taunts and awkward conversations as a kid coming back to me. I shake my head, pushing it aside. That life is gone now. The past is pain.

“I understand,” Mikito answers, looking back, and sighs. “Last Christmas Eve, Shota and I, we spent it together. This year, we were supposed to celebrate it with his parents as a married couple. Our first…”

I hear her voice catch, the hitch in it. I ignore it, knowing Mikito hates to have us notice. For a time, we stand there in silence, staring into the dark. Even now, with the city slowly coming back to life, the darkness is barely pushed back by the ambient light. It’s something that would have been impossible a short while ago, this inky blackness, and leaves no doubt about why our ancestors made fire a priority.

“You could join them,” Mikito suggests after a while. She doesn’t look surprised when I shake my head. Her next words come out as a statement. “You’re planning on leaving.”

I flinch slightly even though there is no accusation in her voice. “Yes.”

“When?”

“After we’ve sorted the Envoy out. Once Whitehorse has settled, once the set-up time is over…”

“Where?”

“I’m… not sure,” I admit, staring into the darkness. “Probably down to Fort Nelson first. Debating between Edmonton and Vancouver.”

“Your family is—was—in Vancouver, was it not?” Mikito asks.

I nod. She frowns at me and I know what she’s thinking—that I should go there to check it out. But I verified a while ago. They’re dead. I paid the cost to the Shop, high as it was.

“Have you told Lana?”

“She knows.” I figured that out a while ago, that she knew I’d be leaving one day.

“Did you tell her?” I shake my head, and the Japanese woman sighs and shakes her head. “You should.”

“I will. When it’s right.” Not that it matters. Lana’s focused on whatever she’s up to, and everything else, everyone else, is secondary to that.

Mikito nods and lets the topic drop, and I exhale. Well, that went better than I thought it would. As much as I like Whitehorse, as proud as I am of the people here and what they’ve done, this isn’t my home. Soon enough, I’ll be gone. It’s better for me, for the city, if I stay out of their way, out of their politics and institutions. Better to be the ghost in the system that no one remembers.

We’re having an early breakfast a few days later, the sun still hidden beneath the horizon, when Amelia and Jim come in looking tired and depressed. At Mikito’s wave, they join us, snagging a cup of coffee and orange juice respectively while they take a seat.

“What’s up?” I ask, not bothering with pleasantries.

“We lost another team. The Killa Squad,” Jim says, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Martial artists. Went around punching and kicking things mostly, though they carried guns too. One of the mid-range squads, they worked the level twenty to thirty zones,” Amelia explains.

I nod. Right. I remember seeing them in the Nugget. Tattoos, mohawks, and wannabe fighters given life by the System. Nice guys actually, if loud. I cudgel my brain for more information but find nothing—I rarely interact with the majority of hunter parties. They weren’t good enough to be part of the elite squads but weren’t so useless that they needed to be babysat.

“How many does that leave us?” Mikito asks.

Lana just listens, looking mostly disinterested in the entire proceedings. I frown slightly at that—Lana used to have a bleeding heart and now… well. Now.

“My squad working the level thirty-plus zone, three more in the level twenty-plus zone. And about six permanent that are being worked up,” Jim says, bushy white eyebrows tightening.

“Six? I’m sure I’ve worked with more,” I prod the older First Nation Elder.

“Six permanent. Most of those you’ve been working with have been, ummm…” Jim pauses, searching for the word.

“Casuals,” Amelia says, holding a hand up to cover her mouth as she speaks around her meal. “They’re there for the experience, not the hunting.”

“Oh…” I frown, shaking my head. Well, that explains the level of stupidity I saw in some of them. But… “Why me?”

“Oooh, oooh. I got this one,” Ali says. “You’re scary, so the casuals listen to you. You’re strong enough that even if they screw up badly, you can save their asses. And you’re a horrible teacher. Since they aren’t here to learn anyway, that’s fine.”

“I’m not—” I protest and see nods from all around.

Even Lana joins in, a slight smile crossing her face. I glare at the group, feeling betrayed. I mean, sure, I don’t like idiocy and I do shout at them a bit when they make mistakes, but it’s for their own good. How the hell are they supposed to learn if no one tells them?

“Sorry, John, but Ali’s right,” Amelia says. “We want to coach the other groups, not crush them.”

I growl softly, crossing my arms, and Ali snickers. “Boy-o’s pouting.”

“I am not,” I snap at Ali, who chuckles out loud.

Lana smiles slightly then glances at the food and the way Amelia and Jim are attacking it before she looks at us. “Are we ready to go?”

I open my mouth to agree, but Mikito cuts in, “How did we lose them?”

The topic brought back to hand, Jim and Amelia share glances.

Jim answers slowly, his deep voice dropping lower. “Not sure. The Kapre let us know they died, and when we got a team to look into it, all we found were signs of a fight. No bodies. The snow overnight hid most of the tracks, so all we know is that the fight was pretty focused.”

There were quite a few frowns at that. While monsters do drag away and eat bodies, it was unusual for there to be no bodies at all. Anything that could take out a group quickly and took their bodies was not good.

“Get us the location. We’ll swing by that area and see if Ali can see anything else,” I say and get a pair of grateful nods.

I ignore Ali’s muttering about not being a tracker. I’m sure he’ll do the best he can, even if it might not be much. At the very least, we can see if we picked up anything new.

While the System has taken to teleporting in new monster types much less frequently, it still happens. If it’s a new monster and one powerful enough to take out a hunting group that quickly, we’ll want to squash it before it starts replicating. The last thing we need is to have something truly nasty out here.

Now that we’ve got this sorted, Mikito stands.

Lana huffs out, “Finally,” too loud to have been missed by any of us.

We all ignore the redhead stalking out of the pub, though Amelia shoots a concerned glance her way before looking at us. All I can do is shrug before I hurry after the ladies. With the mood Lana is in, I doubt she’ll wait.

I snarl, hunkering behind the absurdly strong tree as the barbs from the Ilukin monster tears apart everything else around me. I grip the barb that sticks out of my shoulder and tug it out, feeling the serrated edges tear through my flesh and catch on the metallic edges of Sabre’s armor plating. Blood pours out, and I have to mentally command Sabre to not inject me with a healing potion. No point in wasting Credits on that just yet. With a flick of my hand, I toss the barb away and scan the surroundings.

Mikito is crouched in a small depression, barbs flying above her head and forcing her to stay down even as the Ilukin attempts to close on her. To my right, Lana and the puppies are sheltering behind portable force shields and my own Soul Shield, both of which are doing their best to keep them alive. Lana’s working on pulling out the barbs in Wynn’s flesh. Already, I can tell that the shields are beginning to fail. I swear, recalling how everything went to hell in such a short time.

The Ilukin found us after we’d been to the kill site and found nothing. We’d moved deeper into the zone, hoping to find traces of a monster that could have killed the hunting group. That’s when we were ambushed by the Ilukin, crouched at the top of a rise and hidden by the snow. The Ilukin look like the meaner, nastier version of a porcupine with their barbs reversed and all in white. Each time they shift, they shoot and regenerate the barbs in seconds, filling the air with deadly missiles.

In moments, they’ve denuded the foliage and are in the process of tearing down trees and rock with their barbs. Poking my head around the corner of the tree, I have to pull back quickly as they step up the attack on me, pinning me in place and barely giving me a chance to see.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Mikito, they’re moving to flank you!” I snarl over our communications channels.

If they keep moving, she won’t have the angle left to hide. I focus, slapping a Soul Shield on Mikito just in case and watching my Mana drop. Even as I speak, Mikito’s tossing out smoke grenades, providing her further cover. Lana follows her example a second later, the tosses arcing over the shield in front of her. Purple and pink smoke pour out from the grenades within seconds.

The Ilukin are the worst kind of monsters for us to fight. As ranged fighters, the Ilukin are laying down sufficient fire that we have to stay hunkered down. Our group can fight at range, but it’s mostly meant to let us cover the ground until we’re up close and personal—sort of like the way Romans carried pilum to toss before they engaged. Normally running around in the forest or dungeons makes ranged fighting more difficult, but this time, our reliance on close combat has us stuck with no cover.

“John, the shield’s failing!” Lana shouts.

“Cover fire coming.” I stick my hand around the tree, firing blind and as fast as I can, dumping the Inlin’s full load in seconds.

I track the shots left and right and the slackening of fire gives Lana and the puppies a chance to run. My blind cover fire isn’t enough to stop the Ilukin completely and the large dogs are easy targets. Projectiles tear into their furry bodies, ripping skin and tearing muscles even through the light armor the puppies wear.

The Inlin clicking empty, I pull my hand back and listen to the weapon cycle, Sabre loading new ammunition from its stores. No time to wait though, so I stick my head and hand around the tree on the other side, casting Fireball again and again. From the corner of my eyes, I can barely spot the place where Mikito was, purple smoke covering the ground.

“Ali, how many?” I could count the dots on my minimap, but asking him direct is faster and easier as I split my focus between spells and cover.

I snarl, ducking and shrugging as the tree finally falls, catching me on the shoulder on the way down. Physics and Mana-hardened pulp isn’t enough to overcome Sabre’s armor though, so all I feel is a hard and sharp pressure.

“Seven. Two on the flank, two breaking off to go after Lana, and three here with you. They really don’t like the Fireball spell,” Ali says helpfully, floating above the trees and watching the group. At this point, the monsters have given up on hurting him and have just concentrated on us, giving us at least one pair of unhindered eyes.

I need to take care of these guys before they get to my friends, but as I open up with another series of Fireballs, I realize the trio has spread out. Fireball’s an area effect spell, but spread out as far as they are, I’m just wasting Mana slinging the spell in their general direction.

Ilukin (Level 41)

HP: 1260/1893

MP: 392/577

A quick scan of the other two shows that the first opponent is the most damaged. As I catch another barb in the upper shoulder, pain flashes through my body again. Forced back behind the remnants of my tree trunk, I growl and think quickly about my options. Spells would be great and they certainly seem vulnerable, but my most effective spells are area effect. That leaves the Inlin, whose standard projectiles reflect off the barbs, or my sword, which requires me to get close.

The worse thing is that I’m the best equipped to deal with these suckers. Mikito’s entirely reliant on her melee attacks, and while Lana carries a beam rifle, it’s not her primary form of attack. I need to get attacking, and I need to do it now.

“Ali, Blink Step chain to Lana,” I snap as I poke my head around again.

I focus and Blink the distance to the monster, right above it. Sword in hand, I drop onto the monster, plunging my blade through barbed defenses that react a touch too late. I roll away, dragging the weapon through its body, and come up, triggering a Blade Strike the moment I’m on my feet.

Out in the open as I am, it doesn’t take long for his friends to fire on me. That’s why I didn’t drop straight into the fight immediately. Sabre’s shield stops the first few attacks, enough so that I finish off the Ilukin in front of me with a couple more quick strikes. After that, I duck and weave, using the bulk of the new corpse to hide me from attacks as I take on the other two. I work my way forward, always trying to keep the majority of the monsters unable to attack me, though these guys aren’t as worried about friendly fire.

By the time I’m done with my pair, a series of barbs stick through my body. I take a few seconds to pull and push them out as needed, groaning in pain and triggering a Healing potion. Cold relief floods through me before I look in the direction Lana and the puppies ran. A Skill activation later, I’ve ported closer. Ali’s already flying ahead of me, and I use his eyesight to bounce me closer to where Lana is, unable to spot her through the heavily forested woods. Being on the run as they are, the damage done by the Ilukin is more spread out, but it’s still a good way for me to track the group.

When I finally reach the group, Lana’s busy trading fire with one Ilukin while the dogs are attacking another in close combat. Anna has the majority of the monster’s attention as she wields whips of flame from her tail, tearing apart barbs that fire at her as she hops in front of it. Howard works the back while Wynn and Shadow rip into the monster from the flanks, ducking in and attacking whenever they see an opening. All the animals are moving slower, barbs tearing wounds wider with each attack, but they refuse to give up.

A split-second decision has me porting over to help Lana, appearing a few feet away from the monster even as my feet hit the ground, propelling me forward. I tuck down low, using the built-up momentum from running to hit it with my shoulder, my sword held out low and parallel to the ground. I hear barbs shatter and I feel the Ilukin’s body give way beneath me, but I don’t stop, pushing it forward until we smash into a tree. The impact jerks me to a stop, sending a jolt through my spine and making my head hurt before I dig my feet into the ground and twist, pulling the sword free and widening the wound.

Lana ignores us the moment I appear, instead adding her firepower to the puppies, coordinating her attacks with them in an entirely unnatural way. By the time I finish my monster, they barely need any help dispatching theirs, Anna delivering the coup-de-grace by shoving a bar of molten fire down the Ilukin’s throat. I Blink forward ahead of the group but stop halfway there when I realize the red dots that make up Mikito’s opponents are gone.

We find the samurai seated and leaning against an opponent, naginata laid out next to her, working on pulling a barb from her leg. Mikito’s so damaged, I can’t even spot a portion of her that’s uninjured. Cuts, scrapes, and puncture wounds abound, and the dark red of drying blood covers her completely, pooling around her body and staining the snow, slowly creating a bloody depression that Mikito sinks into. I stare at the young Japanese woman, who gives me a pained half-smile, waiting for her health to rise.

“How…?” I shake my head, wondering how either of the ladies did it.

“Stealth potion,” Mikito says.

“Smoke potions for the dogs,” Lana adds.

“Smoke?” I blink, and Lana nods.

“Turns them into smoke for a few minutes. Gave it to them to chug. They disappeared and waited while the monsters found me. They hit the trailer while I drew the lead away,” Lana finishes the explanation.

“And you?” I ask Mikito.

“Waited till they were next to me, then I attacked,” Mikito says, waving around the newly made clearing. “It was… tight.”

Tight. That’s one way to look at it. Tight. It’s a problem with only three of us. Even with Lana’s pets, we’re often outnumbered and out-leveled. We could really do with a few more party members, but Amelia’s too busy to come out often and Aiden refuses. That leaves us with no one else with the appropriate level, not in Whitehorse.

In the end, we have to make do with what we have, and that means some days, sometimes, we end up tight.

Chapter 10

I might have a certain resistance to the cold these days, and certainly within Sabre I’m often nice and toasty. However, that’s not true for everyone I hunt with. When the temperature hits -45°C before wind chill, even Lana flat-out refuses to go out, citing the very real possibility of death. It’ll be interesting to see how many of the monsters we’ve been dealing with handle the cold—some of the ones I’ve seen probably won’t survive the winter. Slimy and sticky might be powerful, but it isn’t particularly good when snowburn can happen in minutes. The Yukon can be a harsh, unforgiving place, and that’s without the rather strange changes the System has created.

Rather than spend my nature-enforced break hunting alone, I’ve elected to spend the day in Whitehorse. A morning lesson with Aiden has allowed me to understand how Mana can be woven into multiple strands at the same time, the precursor to dual-casting. Understand, if not do. That what he shows me is simple, something most Mages can handle without a problem with the aid of the System, doesn’t help when you’re actually trying to do it without the System’s help. Watching Aiden float five balls in the air and juggle them with ease, I can’t help feeling a twinge of envy as I fail to split my concentration even once.

That’s the problem with not being specialized, I guess. Never enough time to focus on any one thing. Aiden’s morning lesson and my current one are both good reminders of my weakness. Ali and I sit cross-legged on the rooftop of the flat while we slowly “explore” his Elemental Affinity of electromagnetic force. One of the four fundamental forces of the universe, it’s a major force that dictate how matter and energy interact. It creates many of the things we feel and see in everyday life—from magnetism to electricity to friction.

Funnily enough, that’s about as much as I understand about it—at least on the scientific level. When I tried to purchase further knowledge from the Shop, Ali bitched me out for hours. The way the Spirit put it, in this case, knowledge is actually a hindrance to using the Affinity. What we’re trying to do is perceive and understand the forces around us, then manipulate it directly. All the physics, all the theories are just numbers and figures, data that gets in the way of understanding. It’d be like trying to talk about the colors of a rainbow rather than opening your eyes. Explaining music rather than playing it. Watching a dancer rather than dancing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Seated cross-legged on the rooftop, I breathe slowly with my eyes closed, the cold seeping in through the thermal bodysuit, threatening to rip away my concentration. I ignore it as I try to see the world around me through my Affinity. It would be easier and faster to use a skill like Mana Manipulation, but the point of this training is to bypass the System and its helping hands. And so I breathe.

Each time I catch it, it’s as if lines of power in all the colors of the rainbow surround me, shifting as the world shifts. Wind, light, heat, matter, it all shows up. Lines that radiate everywhere from everything at the same time. It’s so much that I can never hold the sight for more than a few seconds, the sheer variety staggering my mind and making me lose control.

Each time I fail, I calm my mind and try again. Hours pass, sunlight fading in and out as clouds shift and the world rotates. Each moment passes and each glimpse shows me a little more of the world, of the way Ali naturally sees it. It’s breathtaking in its beauty and staggering in its majesty.

And when I have a moment, I try to manipulate it. Just a little. A push here. A shove there. Attempting to alter the flows of force via will and a strange, tertiary muscle I barely understand. I am trying for more than just seeing the forces but understanding what I do when I make these changes, what each line of force means. It’s like trying to flex a muscle you’ve never consciously moved—a failure most of the time, but occasionally, occasionally, you think you might have done something.

You’d think that it would be frustrating. Infuriating. Yet those glimpses, those moments I catch, give me insight into something more, something greater than I’ve ever sensed before, a connection to the universe that I’ve never had. For all the mystical crap we talk about, this is the first legitimate example I have that they were right and everything is connected. And so, I find myself reaching, testing, pushing forward without hesitation.

Only Ali playing Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs” at full volume next to me pulls me away from training. When I stand, my muscles lock up, making me faceplant into the snow. Hours on a cold, barren rooftop without shelter has pushed even my enhanced body, and I find myself locked up, my body numb. I have to flex my muscles slowly and cast a Healing spell before I can move. As I do so, Ali flicks his fingers and gives me something else to study.

Elemental Affinity Improved

Well. That was nice. I find myself smiling even as my body reminds me of the stupidity of sitting outside in the cold. As my body slowly unlocks and I push past the pain, I find that I’ve spent more time on this than I meant to. As useful as this exercise was, I have more things to do. Time to get back to work.

Down the stairs and out, then back up, I find myself at the Shop. It’s been a while since I came here to really shop instead of just selling some loot or pick up pre-decided items. But my last run-in with my mysterious attacker has made it clear—I’m in need of an upgrade. I’ve been coasting on my previous load-out and Skills, but it’s obvious I need to rejigger something.

Not every Shop is the same. In fact, there are thousands, maybe even millions, of them throughout the System. Each Shop caters to different clientele, different funds and needs. Some are exclusive to specific groups or Guilds; others cater to specific tastes like droids, drones, melee weaponry, or more. Of course, I don’t know any of that when I first access the System Shop as Ali drags us into his preferred, exclusive shop, this marvel of blue.

The Shop I’m in starts with a simple set of reception counters that greets shoppers before they’re guided to their own private viewing rooms. In each viewing room, specialized screens show you the full range of products the Shop holds or has access to on short notice. You can even filter for the full range of items the System can access. Of course, in most cases, those items you have to buy directly from the System Shop are much more expensive—outside of things that only the System can provide, like Class changes or Skills, System information or secrets.

In my private viewing room, a humanoid Fox stands, clad in a purple bodysuit that covers two-thirds of its body and a sash that hangs across its front, covering the rest. It’s entirely unpractical, but I guess as a salesman, Foxy-boy isn’t particularly in need of practical clothing. Not here in the Shop, at least.

“And how may we help you today, Redeemer?” Foxy-boy asks.

I hesitate, and not just because of the title. I still don’t understand why some titles are used more than others. I’ve almost never heard anyone call me Monster Bane, but almost everyone from the System uses Redeemer of the Dead. If I had to guess, it’s due to rarity, but it’s not something I’ve bothered to dig into. It’s not as if it matters, beyond a little embarrassment.

“Can you watch something and give me some advice?” I say, and at his nod, I gesture to Ali.

A moment later, showing on the big screen is the fight between my mysterious attacker and me. While he’s busy watching, I take care of the usual housekeeping.

Concussion Grenades (10)

Effects: 50 Base Damage. Damage reduces depending on distance from explosion.

Cost: 100 Credits

Plasma Grenades (10)

Effects: 100 Base Damage. Damage reduces depending on distance from explosion. Chance of on-going fire damage

Cost: 150 Credits

Chaos Grenades (2)

Effects: Variable. Calls up one chaotic event with area of effect up to five meters from explosion point

Cost: 500 Credits

1,000 High-Explosive Rounds for Inlin Type II Projectile Rifle

Effects: 50 Base Damage

Cost: 150 Credits

100 Armor Piercing Rounds (Crafted) for Inlin Type II Projectile Rifle

Effects: 150 Base Damage

Cost: 50 credits

1kg of Assorted Swiss Chocolates (Individually Wrapped)

Effect: Reduces John Lee rage effects. Recommended consumption on regular basis.

Cost: 10 Credits

The last makes my lips twist in a wry smile. Having Ali as my System Companion with full access to my link means that occasionally, the damn Spirit throws in his own little notes. On the other hand, having had Mikito and Lana share some of the data screens they get, I’m more than happy with the trade-off. I wouldn’t want to wade through the occasional screens of gibberish they seem to have gotten used to.

Back to work. I keep purchasing, refilling my basic load-out. I rarely need to do this since, unlike most others, I can just dump extras into my Altered Space. By the time I’m done, Foxy-boy has finished reviewing the fight and is ready to talk.

“Suggestions?” I jump right into it, curious to see what he might add.

“Don’t fight people who have higher levels than you,” Ali says, smirking.

I glare at Ali, hoping to make it clear that this is serious. “Funny.”

“Well, Redeemer, if you are looking for certainty in beating your attacker, I fear you might not have the Credits for it,” Foxy-boy says before scratching at his hand/paw. “I do believe you are significantly out-classed.”

“I got that,” I say, tapping the screen. A second later, working to mental prompts, the screen shows the QSM.

Quantum Stealth Manipulator (QSM)

The QSM allows its bearer to phase-shift, placing himself adjacent to the current dimension

Effect: User is rendered invisible and undetectable to normal and magical means as long as the QSM is active. Solid objects may be passed through but will drain charge at a higher rate. Charge lasts 5 minutes under normal conditions.

Cost: 250,000 Credits

I definitely don’t have the money to repurchase the QSM. At 200,000 Credits, fixing up the broken QSM itself is cheaper, but it’s still not cheap. As much as I want my toy back, that’s out of the question.

I state as much before musing out loud, “He’s faster than I am. Probably has a Class Skill like Haste or its equivalent. He’s also more experienced and has better martial skills. Stronger than I am. If I had to guess, that’s his primary attribute. No spells used, but he didn’t need any. Might be he doesn’t have any. That polearm with his Skills is the killer though.”

“So we’re looking to either speed you up, slow him down, or keep him at range?” Foxy-boy says, tilting his head,

I nod slowly. “Yeah. Oh, and figuring out how the hell to see him before he hits me first. Or runs away if I’m winning.”

Ali snorts at the last. Yeah, fine. The chances of me being in a winning position is low.

“I think I can deal with that. I’ve got some Advancement Points left from your Level Ups. If we can get a few more Levels, I can focus on upgrading my abilities to scan for others,” Ali says.

“Instead of learning to project more music? No. That’s tragic,” I intone sarcastically.

“The sacrifices I make.”

I ignore Ali, turning to Foxy-boy who is staring upward at the ceiling. “Right, so what have we got?”

“May I see your Status Screen? It might help,” Foxy says.

“Done.” After sending it across, I take a second look at my own screen.

Status Screen

Name

John Lee

Class

Erethran Honor Guard

Race

Human (Male)

Level

35

Titles

Monster’s Bane, Redeemer of the Dead

Health

1620

Stamina

1620

Mana

1250

Mana Regeneration

92 / minute

Attributes

Strength

90

Agility

153

Constitution

162

Perception

55

Intelligence

125

Willpower

127

Charisma

16

Luck

27

Class Skills

Mana Imbue

1

Blade Strike

2

Thousand Steps

1

Altered Space

2

Two are One

1

The Body’s Resolve

3

Greater Detection

1

Instantaneous Inventory*

1

Soul Shield

2

Blink Step

2

Cleave*

2

Frenzy*

1

Elemental Strike*

1 (Ice)

Tech Link*

2

Combat Spells

Improved Minor Healing (II)

Greater Regeneration

Greater Healing

Mana Drip

Improved Mana Dart (IV)

Enhanced Lightning Strike

Fireball

Polar Zone

After a while, Foxy-boy states, “You have not designated your last four Class Skills.”

“I was kind of holding off on using them till I hit Level 40 and the next tier opened up.”

“Mmmm… and you rarely upgrade Skills beyond their first tier.”

“Yes. I’m just really liking the versatility.” I shrug. “I mean, they’re all good.”

“True. But at higher levels, each Skill grows in power. Class Skills may also upgrade and achieve a breakthrough—a time when the continual improvement increases significantly,” Foxy-boy says and I blink.

I look at Ali, who shrugs. “Yeah, it happens. Except the lowest recorded level for a breakthrough is at ten points. Boy-o here has seventeen Class skill points in total, and with his Class, he ain’t ever getting that many,” Ali says, and I growl softly. Ali frowns at me for a time before he straightens up. “Shit. Sorry. Something else I should have told you about to let you decide on, eh?”

“Yes. Just a little,” I snap then close my eyes as I try to rein in my temper.

I try to remind myself that Ali has provided more information than he has withheld, that those without a Companion are still struggling to get basic information. This, none of this, is basic. It’s complex, detailed data that maybe someone who grew up with the System would know, but us humans don’t. It certainly wasn’t mentioned in Thrasher’s Guide, and I read that one all the way through. I tell myself I’m lucky, and it helps. A little. Mostly, it’s the slow breathing.

When I open my eyes, I find the screens filled with information. I take the time to look over the possible options available, starting with the Class Skills.

Class Skill: Haste

Effect: Increases effective movement speed of caster by 20% for duration of Skill use. Costs 1 mana per second.

Cost: 45,000 Credits

Class Skill: Slow Time

Effect: Creates a bubble of slow-time around the Caster, decreasing speed of all objects within the bubble by 10%. Area of effect is 5 feet in radius from caster. Costs 5 mana per second.

Cost: 55,000 Credits

Class Skill: Freezing Strike

Effect: Enchants weapon with a slowing effect. A 5% slowing effect is applied on a successful strike. This effect is cumulative and lasts for 1 minute. Costs 100 Mana to activate. Activation lasts for 1 minute.

Cost: 35,000 Credits

All powerful and they either speed me up or slow down my opponents. Biggest problem of course is the cost—not just in Credits, though that’s not cheap either, but in Mana. Theoretically, I could keep Haste up indefinitely with my current Mana regeneration rates, but then I’d be almost entirely reliant on my Mana pool. Not a great place to be, especially when I fight using my Skills and spells as much as I do.

On a whim, based off what I’ve just learnt, I pull up further information on my Class Skills.

Mana Imbue (Level 2)

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

Cost: 25,000 Credits

Blade Strike (Level 3)

By projecting additional mana and stamina into a strike, the Erethran Honor Guard’s Soulbound weapon may project a strike up to 30 feet away. Costs 45 Stamina + 45 Mana to activate

Cost: 30,000 Credits

So purchasing the Skills is possible. It even actually adds a significant bonus and doesn’t cost me a Class Skill allocation point, which is something I’ve been trying to avoid wasting on the lower level Skills.

“Purchased Skills don’t count toward a breakthrough,” Foxy-boy says, cautioning me as I stare at them.

Figures. Still, I twitch my hands and pull up the two other Skills I haven’t actually upgraded yet.

A Thousand Blades (Level 1)

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

Cost: 40,000 Credits

Shield Transference (Level 1)

Portion of damage dealt to Soul Shield will be transferred as additional damage to Soulbound weapon. Current rate of transfer is 1 additional point of damage for 20 points received. Additional damage will fade after 1 minute. Mana regeneration is reduced by 5 Mana per minute permanently.

Cost: 85,000 Credits (Discounted to 45,000 Credits with pre-requisites of Thousand Blades)

I read over both and shake my head. As interesting as Shield Transference is, taking another hit to my Mana regeneration would suck. Admittedly, I’ve increased in Levels enough that my base regeneration rate is quite high, but it’s still not great. There’s another thing to consider too. I have four Class Skills free right now, but I’m Level 35. That means I’ve got eleven Class Skills left before I finish my current Class tree and have to advance to Master Class. I definitely want Sanctum, Body Swap, and Portal—Skills that provide me greater mobility and defense in general are powerful. Army of One is also quite interesting, but I’d have to purchase Thousand Blades for that. That means, at the very least, I’d have to spend five Class Skills to get a single point in each of these. That leaves me with six Class Skills free to distribute across all options. Playing with those numbers, I begin to understand why Ali didn’t bother to discuss breakthroughs—it’s just too many points to allocate to a single Skill.

I want to upgrade Portal because that’ll give me greater range and flexibility with the Skill. And Blink Step has become a go-to Skill, so of course that’s a must-buy. Add another point for Soul Shield which is, frankly, amazing at keeping my allies and myself alive and that cuts my “free” options down to three. Assuming I don’t want to upgrade Sanctum but I do Army of One because of its ability to dish out the hurt and I’m down to two free Skills. If I really want to make any single Skill more powerful and useful, I’d have to focus on it even further.

And that’s not to forget that the third tier opens at Level 40. Which means that if I want to get Sanctum, Body Swap, and Portal immediately, I need to have saved up at least three points. Still, knowing that I’m going to gain at least two more Class Skills between now and Level 40, I should be able to spend three points now. Which probably means that I should be buying A Thousand Blades and the next level of these…

Soul Shield (Level 3)

Effect: Creates a manipulable shield to cover the caster’s or target’s body. Shield has 1,500 Hit Points.

Mana Cost: 250 Mana

Cost: 55,000 Credits

Blink Step (Level 3)

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

Mana Cost: 80 Mana

Cost: 55,000 Credits

Both are great upgrades, one increasing the Shield’s hit points, the other reducing the cost of Blink Step. Considering I often trigger that Skill multiple times in a fight, the cost reduction is pretty damn useful. I could purchase both, but the penny pincher in me hesitates at the idea of spending all my “free” points. Better to keep at least one point free.

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

“Let’s see what else you guys cooked up,” I mutter, looking toward the two who have been patiently waiting by the bowl of dip.

Ali doesn’t even move, just waving toward the screens.

Type II Webbing Mini-Missile

Base Damage: N/A

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

Cost: 500 Credits

“Not much information on that,” I say, flashing the screen.

“Can’t really go into too much detail. It’s a Type II, so it’ll hold your opponent for a few seconds at least. If it hits.” Ali shrugs. “If he isn’t too much stronger than you.”

I grunt, acknowledging Ali’s point. Damn System will make it so that he can break out eventually, whether or not it’d make logical sense. Still, this definitely has possibilities.

Shinowa Type II Sonic Pulser

Base Damage: 25 per second

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

Cost: 25,000 Credits

Nice. Don’t have to aim this weapon, except in the general direction, which means if I can catch him before he closes, the son of a bitch will find it hard to escape the effects.

Pinzli Nano Cloud

Base Damage: N/A (Dependent on purchased effects)

Duration: 1 minute

Recharge Rate: 2 hours

Cost: 55,000 Credits

“The nano cloud is a bit different from your other choices here. Think of it as a dispersal and development mechanism. Once purchased, you won’t ever have to purchase it again—so long as it doesn’t break—as it rebuilds the cloud itself. However, the cloud itself does nothing. You need to purchase the programming to make the nanites act,” Foxy-boy says, and I nod slowly. “You can have it dispense toxins, invade and damage individuals and items within the cloud, increase or decrease temperatures, or apply electrical current. The possibilities are endless, if expensive.”

I grunt, staring at the cloud with desire. I don’t even need to look at the cost of the programmed effects to know this is too expensive for me. Seeing my face, Foxy-boy waves, dispersing the screen before bringing up the next.

Omnitron III Class II Personal Assault Vehicle Lightning Armor Upgrade

Effect: Deals 15 damage per second on contact with armor

Cost: 12,500 Credits

“Cheaper because we’ve got the Adaptive Upgrades for the armor. We just need to get a small portion of it purchased and Sabre will do the rest,” Ali explains. “Figure if you’re going to get hit, you might want to hurt back.”

“Not bad…” I say.

There are a few other tech options available, mostly variations on the theme—stand-alone or integrated weaponry to slow down opponents or damage them at range or hurt them when they’re close. Costs range from the cheap but barely effective at 10,000 Credits to the 90,000-plus Credit options which would nearly wipe me out. I flick through them for a time before I turn to our last category. Spells.

Spell: Haste

Effect: Increases effective movement speed of caster by 10% for duration of Spell.

Mana Cost: 100

Spell Duration: 1 minute

Cost: 35,000 Credits

Spell: Slow Time Bubble

Effect: Creates a bubble of slow-time decreasing speed of all objects within the bubble by 10%. Casting range of 50 feet.

Mana Cost: 500

Spell Duration: 1 minute

Area of effect: 12 feet

Cost: 50,000 Credits

“Hey, that Slow Time spell. It’s not centered?” I say.

“Nope. It’s more flexible, but it’s a lot more expensive and you aren’t automatically excluded from the Class Skill. You can also miss since the bubble doesn’t move once cast,” Ali explains.

“Still, that’s pretty sweet.” It’s a powerful spell, but the Mana cost is tremendous.

Scanning down the list of spells, I find the usual variants. After a few seconds, I can tell that most are just variations of the Class Skills we’ve already considered. The tradeoff is often in terms of higher Mana cost and casting time, but the spells are often cheaper to buy and more flexible to use. The Haste spell, for example, can be cast on others, a Web spell could be dispersed at a caster’s command, and on.

I don’t know how long I spend reading over Spells, which trigger ideas for Skills, which are then countered by potential technological options. Hours going over data. And that’s the reason why I try to avoid coming in here too often. You could spend days, weeks even, trying to figure out the best option, the best “build” as Jason would say.

There’s only one problem. There’s a saying that an army is always getting ready to fight the last war. As much as I’ve prepared, I wonder what the next fight will bring. And what he might have up his sleeve.

In the end, worrying won’t get me anywhere. The future is uncertainty. Better to make a decision and go with it. Turning to Foxy-boy, I start talking and pointing.

Chapter 11

There was a book once that said that to become a master at any one thing, you needed ten thousand hours of practice. Not just any kind of practice, mind you, but concentrated, focused practice. Practice where you focused on learning, rather than just doing the same thing again and again. Ten thousand hours. That’s a lot of time—years, decades even—of pure, focused concentration.

Imagine this, if you can. You are on the roof of your apartment, practicing in the dark with only the light of the moon above and reflected light from pristine snow below, cold air biting at your lungs with every breath. You swing your hand from the right and summon your Soulbound weapon into your hand two-thirds of the way to the target as you’ve practiced hundreds, even thousands of times. The weapon appears and alongside it are two identical swords, trailing the first weapon’s path by about a foot, like after-images of a strike.

You hit the target and follow-through all the way before you unsummon the weapon so that you can call it to your other hand, which is already striking to the top of the head. Except you now have to make sure you only banish the original weapon, otherwise the duplicates never finish their strikes. Of course, that means you should remember to banish those other two when they’ve finished their first strike so they may follow up with the second cut you throw.

Oh, and don’t forget that the floating weapons are moving on predetermined paths that you have no ability to alter. Take a step too far, twist your body the wrong way, be a touch too slow when you banish a weapon or be too fast and you’re now inflicting damage on yourself.

Now try to focus on all these things and ignore the giggling of a highly amused petite Japanese woman and an olive-skinned, shoulder-padded Spirit.

“Enough already!” I snap at Mikito, banishing all three weapons and releasing A Thousand Blades, letting my Mana regeneration refill my pool. I growl, rubbing the latest cut to my knee, my workout clothes stained with blood. “You were supposed to be helping.”

“Sorry!” Mikito says and bobs a short bow. By the time she comes up, she’s smoothed out her face at least. If you weren’t Asian and used to reading repressed emotions, you probably wouldn’t catch the tightness in her eyes or the humor lurking in their depths. “It just—”

“It looked like a three-day-dead Goblin attempting to dance on an electric wire,” Ali supplies.

I growl but have to admit, even if only privately, that the last half hour has been less than impressive. I can get the first and second strikes in about fifty percent of the time, but after that, everything becomes a flurry of swinging iron and blood. Keeping track of all the different blades, what’s called forth and what’s not is nearly impossible, even if all I’m trying to do is forms.

“Too much,” Mikito says, waving toward where I am.

“I know,” I say.

She shakes her head, pausing to find the words. “You’re doing too much. The Skill is new. When I learned Haste, I focused on just moving, not fighting. Once I knew how to move, I added turning it on and off in bursts. Only later did I add fighting.”

“But—”

“Mikito’s right, boy-o. Stop using the Honor Guard sword technique. Keep the sword summoned, focus on getting used to having the blades trail along. Maybe even get used to using the summoned blades as additional weapons,” Ali says.

“I don’t have time…” I snap my mouth shut. Right. I asked Mikito to come out into the cold for her suggestions. Arguing with her after I asked her for her advice is stupid. It’s just that I can feel the pressure, the need to get my Skills working fully. And that’s not her. That’s all me.

“We good?” Mikito asks.

I nod slowly. I rub my neck for a second then pull out a piece of chocolate, popping it into my mouth as I walk back to my training spot. The smooth, silky feel of melting chocolate and the rush of sugar perks me up a bit, reminding me that not everything has to be solved immediately.

The next hour plays out better. In the corner of my mind, I note that Mikito has started training herself, only partly paying attention to my progress. I know that she feels the cold, that it’s hurting her and damaging her body with each second. She doesn’t have the resistances I do. Yet Mikito is ignoring it, letting the System regenerate the damage while she trains. It’s a level of dedication I find intimidating and drives me to push myself.

Wielding three blades that aren’t connected to one another is strange, but now that I’m not making them appear or disappear, it’s easier. I don’t run into them as much. I just need to change the timing of my strokes and attacks and occasionally my positioning. Follow-throughs that would work before don’t, but the addition of the other blades open up more possibilities.

It’s a fascinating hour that’s interrupted by the increasingly loud voices from below. Something in the tone, in the phrasing twigs a corner of my mind and I find myself walking to the edge of the roof. I’m soon joined by the short Japanese woman, her naginata held casually by her side.

Beneath us, one of Roxley’s guards is speaking to a human couple. He’s turned away from us, so I can’t read his lips and he’s not shouting, so we can only catch occasional words.

“… speak to… our fault. Can’t… we are…”

“FUCK you. You bought the city, you should fix it,” the woman of the pair shouts. The man has a hand on her arm, but his bladed stance to Roxley’s guard is not exactly defensive. Whatever his reply, it’s drowned out by more cursing from the woman, her wide gesticulations throwing off the man’s arm. “It nearly ate me. How the hell are you keeping us safe? The children were playing with that rat yesterday. It was the size of the toddler!”

“… bought a …”

“We bought a house. Our house is right over there!” the woman screams, pointing in the direction of the river. “You couldn’t defend it. You just ran like cowards. Now it’s gone and I’m living with a damn Indian! He smells even worse than the cows do.”

My lips twist and I almost step forward to drop down and have words with her. It’s only Mikito’s hand on my arm that stops me.

“We aren’t going to be of help here,” Mikito says. “She’d just scream about us foreigners butting in.”

I grunt but step back, forcing myself to walk away. The guard can handle it—it is, after all, what they’re paid to do. Stepping in now will just make the woman think she’s getting ganged up on, which will raise the stakes for her. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is nothing.

“You done?” I say, seeing Mikito walk to the roof exit.

She nods, and as the voices from below continue to bombard the roof with colorful and highly anatomically impossible language, I find myself following the short Adventurer.

“You’re nearly Level 50,” I state as we take the stairs.

Mikito bobs her head slightly.

“Do you know what Advanced Class you’re going to get?”

“Chukanbushi,” Mikito says. “Middle Samurai. It is an Advancement on my Aonisaibushi Class.”

“I thought your Class was Samurai,” I said, frowning.

“No. It is Aonisaibushi. Do you see it as Samurai?”

“Yes. I thought…” Well, actually, I never did mention it. I mean, why would I? It’d be like telling Mikito her hair was black. Superfluous.

“Sorry, boy-o. Translation error. I’m pulling up the Class data that Mikito provided and well, yeah. I see what I did wrong here,” Ali says, and in a moment, Mikito’s data changes.

“This happen a lot?” I ask Ali, who spins around in a circle while still seated and floating.

“Yes? Remember how I said I’m translating things from the System or Galactic? Well, don’t forget I’ve got to filter that through the information I inherited from you and what little data I’ve garnered since then. And the language downloads of course,” Ali says. “It’s not going to be one hundred percent accurate all the time.”

“No harm done, I guess.” I’m not even sure that the difference between each Class is as it stands, so having this information doesn’t really help. Looking back at Mikito, who has walked over to the kitchen to begin dinner preparation, I ask, “You happy with that?”

“Yes. It is suitable,” Mikito says, washing the rice.

“What kind of Class skills are you going to get?”

“Uncertain. It would either be a continual increase in my current abilities or an enhancement on other Skills that aren’t present now.”

“So your current Aoni… Aino… Junior Samurai Class gives you physical Skills like Haste, your weapon Skills like Cleave or Counter-Strike, and the physical enhancement Skills, right?” As I speak, I pull some chicken from my Altered Space storage and lay it out on the oven rack before grabbing paprika, pepper, and salt. I lean over to start the oven while I say, “So what’s not covered?”

“Armor and protection skills. Mental training and resistances. Riding skills. Archery.” Mikito puts the pot on the counter and sets up the cooker before she pulls meat out of her inventory and marinates it. “All those were traditional. If the System is calling from our history, even corrupted, it could be any of those.”

I grunt in acknowledgement, tossing the chicken a bit and dusting everything with a little bit of flour. I wonder, if the System is calling forth or adjusting some existing Classes to fit our history, is there a Eunuch class out there? Does it have specific requirements? And more importantly, why am I asking such questions?

“You okay with either of those options? Ali mentioned you can get some better specialized Classes if you worked for it.”

“This is a better Class,” Mikito points out. “I used the Basic Perk we received to upgrade it. And I looked into it—most of the other requirements are too difficult or impossible on Earth. Not as if I’m going to participate in killing a Dragon. Or visit all fourteen moons of Ryunii. Wherever that is.”

“It’s in…” Ali stops. “Right, rhetorical question.”

Vegetables next. It looks like a pink banana, tastes like a mixture of broccoli and chocolate, and is, most importantly, easy to prepare. I snap and toss the pieces into the bowl that Mikito has kindly laid out while we continue to speak.

“Any idea what Lana’s going to get? She’s a few levels below you, but…”

“We’ve talked actually. Lana has some interesting options. She can either become a Beast Master (Advanced) or a Beast Lord. It seems to be a question of ownership versus partnership,” Ali pipes up this time. “The first option gives her more skills to expand her pets and control them. The second limits the number, but she can upgrade her pets more directly and make each puppy more powerful.”

“Any idea which way she’s going?” I ask, and Ali falls silent. “Ali?”

“I would have said Beast Lord before… but… Lana’s gotten cold, boy-o. Like, she-bitch level cold. I’m not sure anymore.”

“So I’ve noticed. Where is she anyway?”

They shrug. She hasn’t bothered to contact us since our initial discussion this morning, so we’re kind of working in the dark. Hopefully she’s resting. She certainly needed it. On the other hand…

On the other hand, there’s something there that will need to be dealt with. Soon. Just not today.

“How long can this weather last?” I mutter as we stomp through the snow.

It has been a week and a half of -30

and lower temperatures and it shows no sign of letting up. After the third day and having fought off a Swarm attack, Lana decided that she’d done enough waiting around. So out we went. It only took a few more days before the rest of the advanced and elite hunting teams decided that she was right. The cold isn’t going anywhere and the larder needs to be filled.

“A month maybe?” Lana says. She’d know, as the only native Yukoner in the party.

In fact, for Mikito and me, this is our first Yukon winter, and so far, I can safely say that it’s every bit as cold and dark as you could imagine. Sun’s up at nine and sets around five, leaving most of the day shrouded in darkness.

“Got another,” I say, walking over to the frozen ground squirrel.

I loot it before dropping the corpse into my Altered Space. Evolved as it was, the ground squirrel had gained a good three feet in height, but obviously the System hadn’t compensated for the additional heat-loss. Or at least, not enough, not with the temperature staying this low all day long.

“Not good,” Ali mutters, staring at his screens.

“Credits without fighting? How is that bad?” Lana says as we troop up the mountain.

Wynn bounds over, a corpse dragged along behind it, which is promptly looted by Lana before I store the corpse.

“The monsters keep the Mana flows balanced, just like the buildings do. Too many of them dying means Mana absorption is down. The System will adjust for that by adding more monsters, probably teleporting them right in. Or just forcing further evolutions of the ones already present,” Ali explains. “By now, most other areas would have found a decent balance to the kinds of monsters around. Sure, there might be Swarms hitting one place or another, but not that much.”

“So we’re going to see monsters that can handle the cold now? Ice Elementals and that kind of thing?” I ask.

“Maybe, but probably not. The System doesn’t care that much, but it’s not completely stupid. It’ll probably try to find close-enough analogues from other worlds. Farther North though, up in some of your mountains? Pretty sure you have them there already,” Ali answers.

Fun. As I reach out to touch the dead-looking fir to see if it’s lootable, I find myself slipping sideways from an unexpected impact. The damage is negligible, though I’m unable to see for a second as I push myself out of the white blankness covering me.

By the time I get out, Mikito is crouched behind another tree and the puppies have spread out, with Anna the center of attention as more balance-ball-sized snowballs come crashing down around us. Anna’s blazing red, flames flickering around the fox’s body and melting any snowball well before it hits her. She’s so hot, the ground beneath her furry feet has turned to glass.

Our attackers are a strange sight—so white they blend right into the snow-covered backdrop, barely four feet tall, and with scoops for arms. Round, tubby, and humanoid, their faces host only a single glowing crystal. Snowballs form above their hands before they cast them toward us with a swing of their arms. All in all, it’s like being attacked by a bunch of demented snow-children.

It takes me a moment to realize that Lana, having been attacked by multiple snow-children, has been buried in the snow. They keep piling on the snowballs so that she can’t get out. My own attackers have started in on me again, though with my foot braced against the tree, I weather the impacts much better. Of course, it doesn’t help with the snow piling up on top of me. Before I’m completely buried, I trigger Blink Step to flank our attackers. The dip in my Mana pool is less thanks to the recent upgrade, which is nice, though unnecessary right now.

On the other hand, since these guys are annoying but not immediately dangerous, this is a great time to test out some of my other new toys. I start with the sonic pulser, angled as I am so that I catch most of the snow-children in its area effect. When I raise my left hand, the pulser pops out of its recessed guard and lets loose a thrumming screech that sets my teeth on edge. And I’m behind the damn thing.

The snow-children scream, some falling to their knees, others clutching their heads. Only one manages to throw its ball at Mikito, who neatly dodges the attack. The Samurai darts up the hill in a Haste-assisted sprint that brings her up against the last few unstunned monsters and goes to work. I keep the pulser going, carefully keeping an eye on the over-use indicators, and thank the System that it actually worked. It’s only when I triggered it that I thought to consider if the lack of ears on the monsters would make this less useful.

“John. Stop!” Lana shouts through the coms.

That’s when I realize one of the negatives of this weapon. The pets are on the ground, paws held over their ears as they howl in pain. Even outside of the direct influence of the pulser, they are entirely unhappy.

Whoops.

Time to try something new. I skip using the rather expensive and new missiles, instead Blinking over behind the still-recovering monsters and triggering A Thousand Blades. I cut and move, leaving the duplicates to finish the job, the weapons trailing along as I disembowel, decapitate, and otherwise slaughter the monsters. Even as I move, I can’t help but note the more powerful glow around my sword as Mana Imbue’s second purchased level piles on the damage. It’s over in an artic breeze, such that by the time Lana finally frees herself fully and has calmed her pets down, we’ve already started looting.

“So. Cold,” Lana says through chattering teeth. She’s so close to Anna, I’d be scared of her burning up if I was her. Still…

Lana Pearson (Beastmaster Level 46)

HP: 183/350

MP: 476/590

Conditions: Frozen (-5 HP per second)

“You know, Lana, I know you got a bit cold recently, but this might have gone too far,” Ali says, floating next to her. Teasing aside, I see concern in his eyes.

A series of Heal spells helps slow down the damage, and the warmth from Anna brings Lana back to normal. Certain that she’s taken care of now, I glance at Mikito, who is staring into space. Even as I open my mouth to say something to her, the information above her head shifts.

Mikito Sato (Middle Samurai Level 1)

HP: 710/710

MP: 370/370

Conditions: Cold (-1 HP per minute)

“Congratulations,” I say as I pocket the last of the loot. Crystal Eyes. Kind of morbid if you think about it. Which I don’t. And won’t. Learning to compartmentalize things like that is the only way to stay sane in this crazy world.

“Thank you,” Mikito says, walking down to join us. At Lana’s puzzled glance, she explains. “I got my Advanced Class.”

“Good on you!” Lana smiles, flashing a much-missed grin as she walks over, her body only shuddering once in a while now, and gives Mikito a hug.

Mikito returns it awkwardly, before Lana steps away and gives Mikito another smile.

“That was new,” I say to fill in the silence after a while. I get rapid nods, the puppies moving around us to paw at the shattered remains while Anna curls up on bare earth, flames banked to nearly nothing. “You good to go, Lana?”

The redhead doesn’t even pause before she nods and gestures for us to continue. Right, more corpse looting and trouble hunting. Not as if we could be sitting in the Nugget around a warm cup of mulled wine or whisky.

Nine hours later, we’re finally tramping back into Whitehorse. Other than three quick stops for food, we’ve been pounding the snow, looting corpses and dumping them into my Altered Space. Sometimes I really hate having that extra space—if we were any other team, we’d have called it a day hours earlier.

Nine hours of tramping through the snow in freezing weather has shown the breadth of the damage the arctic chill has done. Monsters the size of a house, creatures made of stone, and furry lizards litter the frozen landscape, most not even touched by scavengers. Unsurprisingly, we find ourselves fighting a lot less, which disappoints Mikito, who wants to test out her new Skill. I have to say, I’m impressed. Each time she activates it, ghostly Samurai armor shimmers into being around her, adding a layer of protection. Unfortunately, it’s not particularly strong just yet—though Mikito says she intends to upgrade it with further Skill points. Which also explains her desire to fight.

Lana, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care as much. If anything, I’d call her happy—happy to see the monsters dead, happy to loot them for their belongings, and happy to wander through the sub-alpine forests relatively unharassed. It’s why I don’t complain about how long our hunting trip has taken and am just grateful when we finally see the walls.

“Lana. Good to see you back,” one of the guards calls as they open the gates and drop the shields for us. The relief on the guards’ faces is palpable.

“What’s up?” Ali says, flying right up to one guy, who shrinks back.

“Bill’s team is still missing. He should have been back already,” the original guard replies, brows furrowing. “Did you see them?”

“No. We were out pretty far to the north,” I say, turning unconsciously toward the way we came. “Which direction?”

“What are you thinking, boy-o?” Ali says, floating down beside me.

I purse my lips, debating. I don’t like Bill, but his people make up a core number of our hunting group. If they need help…

“Sorry, sir, they didn’t tell us,” the guard replies.

I grunt, knowing that once they hit the road, they could have spread out anywhere. And the Yukon is big. Even with our abilities to sense others, there’s no way for us to cover enough ground. Not and have a realistic chance of finding them. And it’s not as if I ever learnt to track.

Still…

“Here we go again,” Ali mutters.

Mikito says nothing while Lana sighs overly loudly before clicking her tongue, signaling the puppies to turn around.

Green eyes that once sparkled with humor lie flat and lifeless, staring at the sky. Blonde hair spills artlessly around her body, uncovering pointed ears. The hole through her chest is neat, almost surgical in its precision. I find myself brushing the hair away before I close her eyes and put Luthien’s body in my Altered Space.

“John?” Lana says, a hand on my shoulder.

I look up, blinking at tears that threaten my eyes. Stupid. She cheated on me. Dragged me up north. Dumped me. And yet I’m feeling a sense of loss that threatens to spill out in tears. I draw a deep breath, forcing it away. Stupid. Lana’s hand squeezes my shoulder, offering comfort.

“I’m fine. I’ll get Bill.” I stand to walk over to his body, and Lana lets her hand fall away as I do so.

Unlike Luthien’s, his death was more violent. Much more violent, his body missing an arm and a leg, his chest caved in and his face crushed and missing its lower jaw.

All around us, the signs of a massive fight are clear. The clearing around us for hundreds of meters is torn and destroyed, trees holed, undergrowth burnt away and snow melted. Yet for all of that, we’re missing two bodies. Around us, the puppies sniff and paw at the ground, searching out clues.

“This looks like your attacker’s work,” Lana says, gesturing around us.

I have to agree. We’re no forensic scientists, but we’ve seen enough combat to be able to read the clearing. The marks and attacks from a long-bladed weapon are clear. It’s no monster, that’s for sure, and that doesn’t leave us much. While the puppies and Ali scan for signs of the rest of Bill’s team, Mikito keeps watch.

“Yeah. I wonder…” I fall silent, not wanting to voice my suspicions.

“If he took out the other party?” Lana’s lips twist. “Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times…”

“Pretty sure once was enemy action already,” I say, my voice hard. Not hard to guess who either. A newcomer since this just started happening recently. Someone with an extremely high level and immensely skilled to be able to kill this quickly.

A bark from Wynn has me looking at Lana, who nods. Right, best to find the other two. Even if all we can do is return their bodies to Whitehorse.

“You’re late,” Ingrid says as she fades in behind us.

Mikito snarls, her naginata stopping its swing inches from decapitating Ingrid. Not that the raven-haired First Nation woman looks excited.

“Sneaking up on friends isn’t nice,” I say, looking at the cave. “Luke in there?”

“I wasn’t expecting friends. Luke’s pretty cut up. Lost both his feet,” Ingrid says.

I grimace. “Well, we’ll put him on one of the puppies and we’ll head back.”

I take a closer look at Ingrid. Other than some torn-up armor and dried blood, she looks to be well. Which doesn’t mean much with our regeneration.

“What happened?” Lana asks as she climbs down Howard. Her hand comes up, the old caring redhead back for a second. The tightness in Ingrid’s face makes Lana’s harden too and she turns away, heading into the cave with Howard trailing.

“We were ambushed. Tall, lean bastard wielding a sword on a stick. A bit like yours, Mikito,” Ingrid says, answering the question even if Lana’s not here. “Appeared out of nowhere and killed Luthien first. One attack, right into her chest. We couldn’t hit him, not at first. He was too fast, too good. Bill… he let him cut him. Took the cut to his chest and hugged him close, let us get in our attacks. We hurt the bastard, hurt him good. Made him run off.”

Ingrid pauses, her breathing having grown hoarse. She starts up again soon after. “Couldn’t take their bodies. I took their equipment, then I took Luke with me. Thought he might be back after he healed, but I used my Skills. Hid us. Came here. I thought… I thought he would come back.”

Ingrid’s voice breaks and tears stream from her eyes. She’s hugging herself, the tension from the hours alone, waiting for an unstoppable attacker, finally breaking through her control. Ingrid sobs, dark hair spilling over her tanned skin. Then Mikito is there, holding the taller woman to her slight frame, patting her back. I watch for a second more before I turn away, the naked emotion too much for me.

“Can we track that son of a bitch now?” I say, finding refuge in my rage.

“Possibly. I’m dumping what I can into it, but there ain’t no way of telling till we run into him again,” Ali says.

“I want his head.”

“I know.”

Lana leads Howard out, Luke strapped to his back like a pack. The slightly portly hunter waves to me, his face grim as he dangles from the back, legless.

“Luke.”

“John,” Luke replies, his Quebecois accent strong and clear. “Thank you for coming for us.”

“Always.” I glance at the women.

He follows my gaze to where Lana has joined the other two before we both look away. From the tracks on his face, it’s clear Luke’s been doing some crying of his own. Not that I blame him but…

“I’m going to scout,” I say to no one before walking into the woods.

Better to let them have the moment to calm down, gather themselves. We’re quite a distance from safety and Ingrid was right—we could still be attacked on the way back.

Hours later, we’re finally back in Whitehorse. Mikito and Lana have taken the remainder of Bill’s group back to his place with indications that they might stay the night. That leaves me with the joyous duty of reporting to Roxley. Enhanced Constitution or not, I’ve been up for over twenty-five hours by this point, most of it tramping through the wilderness in temperatures cold enough to freeze a penguin, and I’m exhausted. Yet this needs doing, which is why I’m riding the too-fast elevator to Roxley’s offices.

Well, I see someone sleeps in the nude. My mind comes to a crashing stop as the doors slide open, the brief sight of a mostly naked dark Elf stuttering my brain. He’s busy belting the robe when the doors open, and for a moment, I regret the fact that the elevator wasn’t faster.

“John. What’s so urgent you needed to wake me?”

Roxley’s voice brings me back to my senses, and I answer. “Bill’s dead. So’s Luthien. My attacker—the halberd-wielder—found and killed them. Pretty sure he’s targeting the hunting groups now. I’m going to go and fuck them up now.”

“You cannot,” Roxley says, his voice filled with urgency and concern. “We don’t have proof.”

“We could buy it from the Shop. Hell, we don’t even need to. You know it’s them. I know it’s them. They know it’s them.”

“It would cost too much. And even if we did, what happens then?” Roxley says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We can’t beat them. You can’t even beat the Weaponmaster. And if you attack them now, Labashi will step in. And that’s just the two of them. They’ve got an army waiting in the wings.”

“So we do what? Just wait for them to get around to killing us?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Roxley?” I ask, looking at the Tuinnar. Really looking at him, at the lines on his face and the worry that creases it.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Roxley says, his shoulders slumping.

“My lord?” Vir says, coming out of the elevator behind me.

I jump a bit, not having realized he’d arrived.

Vir’s fully dressed and looks disapprovingly at the two of us. “I believe the Redeemer has provided you the basics. I will debrief him further. You should rest.”

“Vir…”

“My lord. You should rest,” Vir’s voice grows stern, like a teacher to a child.

Roxley twitches at the tone, yet he drops his hand from my shoulder and nods numbly, walking back to his room.

Vir turns to me. “Come, Redeemer. It seems we have much to speak of.”

“Vir—”

“Lord Roxley is under a great deal of stress. He needs his rest,” Vir says.

I nod slowly, taking the hint and not pushing it any further. Not that I need to. It’s clear enough, even to me, that Roxley doesn’t have a plan.

Chapter 12

Even on the short walk to the Nugget from my flat, I can tell that the news of our most recent losses have spread. The few people who move through the twilight-lit streets move with hesitation, their shoulders drawn in and eyes flicking from side to side, trying to see all the threats that aren’t there. Those who are on the streets move fast, a shuffle-walk that would make a speedwalker envious.

The pub is filled, people huddled around and speaking in hushed tones over pitchers of Apocalypse Ale. The Yukon Brewing’s own hand-crafted beer would put down an elephant and is just about strong enough to give a System-registered human a buzz. My entrance to the pub elicits more than a few stares, side conversations, and in a few cases, accusatory glares.

I grab a seat where I can find one, ending up nearly smack-dab in the middle and alone. No idea if my team will be making their way here, but until they do, I get to weather the stares and disapproving looks. The stares I’m used to; the disapproving looks are a bit more of a puzzle. It’s not as if I could have done anything to save them—not more than I did anyway. Long-range communication continues to elude us. Our current technology isn’t good or powerful enough to cut through the woods, the hills, and the snow. The closest thing readily available would be a Skill, but even that is limited by range and the requirement that everyone connected has it. Eventually we’ll be able to add repeating towers and maybe even System-registered satellites, but that’s well in the future and a lot of Credits that we don’t have.

I’m just starting on breakfast when someone finally gets the courage to say something to me directly. The self-elected troublemaker is short, with buzzcut hair and an aggressive stance. “What are you doing about this?”

“Hmmm…” I frown, putting my utensils down and looking at the man. A quick glance gives me his name, which I promptly forget, and his level, which I do remember. 28. Not horrible, but not great. “Do about what?”

“They’re killing us. I heard it’s the Elves killing us, hunting us down and killing us! What are you going to do about it?” He jerks his head forward as he speaks.

I mentally sigh, staring at the man. I know what he’s really asking, why he’s asking. Even someone as emotionally stunted as I am can tell—he’s scared and he wants someone, anyone to fix it. The fact that I’m one of the leading, if not the leading, human combatant means it’s up to me. For all my understanding, I want to tell him to bugger off—that the problem is as much his as mine. That no solution I come up with would be possible without further help. That they need to keep going out, training and fighting and leveling. I could, I want, to say all that and more. But it wouldn’t help him. Or anyone else who is staring at me, listening in.

So I finally say, “I’m working on it.”

“You’re working on it! Working on it!?!” Crewcut splutters, rage suffusing his face.

“Yes. It’s complicated—”

“Doesn’t seem complicated to me.” This time, it’s a larger man, somehow managing to keep the chub on his body even after the System. “They’re killing us because we ain’t kicked out that Tuinnar. We kick him out, they leave us alone.”

“Then what?” I ask, staring at Chubster. “They come in and take over, right? Is that what you want?”

“Does it matter? They ain’t human anyway,” Crewcut says.

“Roxley has been fair to us. Hell, he barely even taxes us beyond the Shop. You sure you want to trade the devil you know for one that’s willing to kill to get their way?” I watch the rustle my words generate. If they want to assume the Truinnar are doing the killing –and I don’t blame them, I’m assuming that too– then I might as well ask the hard question.

“We can’t fight them, and they’re just going to keep killing us. Better to be alive than dead,” Chubster says.

“Really? I think you’re being a bit unimaginative there,” Ali pipes up, shaking his head. “Torture, slavery, serfdom, being a second-class citizen.”

As Ali speaks, I stand and raise my hand, forestalling any further words from the Spirit. I let my gaze travel around the area, meeting various eyes, and pitch my voice to carry. “Look, I’m going to tell you this straight. Things are bad and it’ll likely get worse before it’s over. I’m doing what I can and I will continue doing so. But all of you are going to have to decide what you want.

“Roxley’s given us free rein to chart our own lives, to grow and level at our own speed and pace. He’s let us buy our own houses, make the city our own as best we can in this System-ridden world. You can choose to support him. Or you can roll the dice and hope the Duchess is better. She sure hasn’t promised anything better from what I hear.

“Decide whichever you want. You’re all grown-ups. Just realize you’re going to have live with them.”

I shut up and sit down, turning back to my meal. When Crewcut opens his mouth to say something else, Sarah cuts him off with a hand to his arm and a smile. The pretty and visibly pregnant young waitress pushes him back to his seat, eyes glinting with malice. Crewcut only needs one look at her eyes to decide that he’d rather not engage with her.

Just like that, the confrontation is over and I return to my meal and my thoughts. One thing they have right—we don’t seem to have a solution, a way out of this. Neither Roxley, the council, nor myself see a way that doesn’t involve losing. I chew on my meal, the taste ashen as I try to piece together a real plan, something, anything to break this Gordian Knot.

I’m nearly done with breakfast when Minion comes walking into the Nugget, his entrance letting in some of the cold winter air. The suited politician stumps over to where I polish off the last of my bread, and he glares down at me. I take my time, swallowing my latest mouthful and draining my cup of coffee before I look at him.

Surprisingly, Minion doesn’t look annoyed. Eric just stares at me, perfectly serene and patient before he speaks. “We’d like some of your time, Mr. Lee.”

“Well, if you asked so nicely,” I say.

Ali, floating beside me, twitches a hand and pays for our food, sending the Credits to the Nugget’s account. Extremely convenient.

Minion leads the way to a boardroom in the old city hall where a group of worried human counselors sit, speaking in hushed tones that stop the moment we walk in. All the usual suspects are there, from the matronly Miranda to silver-haired Norman, as well as some of the more prominent members of our business and hunting groups. Jim offers me a quick nod as I step in, and I return it before facing Miranda.

“John, we heard about Bill and his group. However, we’d like to hear about it directly from you,” Miranda says.

I nod. Fair enough that they’d want it from the horse’s mouth. I quickly give them a summary of what we found and discerned, along with the good news that at least two of his party survived. When I finally wind down, the silence in the room is heavy.

“Those son of a—” Jim breaks the silence, fist clenched.

“Jim,” Miranda says, cutting off the old hunter.

He growls, and she meets his eyes. There’s an exchange of information there, one that I’m not privy to, but it is enough to make Jim slump backward into his chair, arms crossed. Miranda turns to me when she’s sure Jim is done.

“You said there were no signs of who did this?” Miranda says, and there’s an intensity to her words and gaze.

I weigh the unspoken command in my mind, balancing what Roxley said as well, and finally answer. “None.”

“That is unfortunate,” Miranda says, sharing a glance with Jim and Eric.

“We will need to take additional precautions when sending out hunting groups,” Eric says, rubbing his chin.

A mental snort from Ali echoes my own thought on this.

“What can they do? That Weaponmaster can kick any of the other hunting groups’ asses without breaking stride,” I send to Ali.

“Well, if it’s the Weaponmaster, they can tie him and the Envoy down with events. So long as the teams don’t go too far, they can still be contacted too, so if something goes wrong, we can pull them back,” Ali sends.

I find myself nodding, which gets more than a few curious glances shot my way.

“Very well, Eric, I’ll leave you and Jim to deal with that.” Miranda turns to me, fixing me with a straight look. “What has Lord Roxley said of this?”

“Vir debriefed me, and I’m sure Roxley’s getting briefed in detail too,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll look into it.”

“His enemies are targeting us, and you think he’ll look into it?” Eric’s voice drips with derision.

“Yes, I do.” I let my gaze wander over the angry and scared group and wonder if a variation of my previous speech would work. I don’t think so though—this group, emotional as they may be, has it under control. So time to roll the dice. Even a little bit. “But that’s the wrong question you’re asking.”

“Oh? And what would the right question be?” Norman says, fingers steepled in front of him.

I flash the silver-haired boomer a smile. “What happens when Roxley isn’t our lord anymore.”

“Well, the attacks stop for a start,” Norman says.

“That’s nice. Though when the bully takes his foot off your throat, you don’t normally thank him. What else?”

“Well, they’ll upgrade the city to a Town of course,” Eric answers, waving. “The city is no use to them as a Village.”

“Which we’re about to do by ourselves anyway.”

“John, if you have something to say, say it,” Miranda says, irritation clouding her voice.

“Nothing much. Just the fact that if you intend to do what I figure you’re thinking of, perhaps you should take some time and think about what will happen,” I say.

“Maybe spend some Credits, find out what’s happening in other cities,” Ali adds.