Apocalypse BREAKER

Aaron Renfroe, Sean Oswald

Pivot Press Publishing

Copyright © 2025 by Aaron Renfroe

Cover Art by Linggar Bramanty

Apocalypse BREAKER custom theme song by Ljupco S.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Apocalypse BREAKER

Forward from Sean Oswald

About the Collaboration

Dedications

Participate in Future Books!

Chapter 1: Packages

Chapter 2: Outages

Chapter 3: Killer Instinct

Interlude: System Directive

Chapter 4: System-Activated

Chapter 5: Through the Looking Glass

Chapter 6: System Parasite

Chapter 7: Installation

Interlude: Warning

Chapter 8: Guide

Chapter 9: Two Words: Rabid. Beaver.

Chapter 10: One in the…

Chapter 11: Gentle Nudge

Chapter 12: Three Chests

Chapter 13: Void Difficulty Tutorial

Combat Summary

Chapter 14: The Summanati

Combat Summary

Chapter 15: Pacification

Chapter 16: Daemonic Reliquary

Chapter 17: Arise

Chapter 18: Massacre

Chapter 19: Quest Epilogue

Inventory Update and Combat Summary

Chapter 20: Conquest

Character Update

Chapter 21: Smells New

Chapter 22: Counterstrike

Chapter 23: Rest and Acclimate

Chapter 24: Assessment

Chapter 25: Poke The B...

Interlude: Assessment Aftermath

Chapter 26: Old School

Chapter 27: Scorched Mobility Battalion

Interlude: Everybody Eats

Chapter 28: Breaking In

Installation: Session 2

Chapter 29: Organic

Chapter 30: Lore Night

Character Update

Chapter 31: Crossroads

Crossroads Upgrades

Interlude: Revision

Chapter 32: An Unexpected Welcome

Chapter 33: Two Truths

Chapter 34: Broken Stone

Chapter 35: Shattered Bone

Inventory Update and Combat Summary

Chapter 36: Nuttery Buttery Fish

Chapter 37: Daemon Unleashed

Chapter 38: Liches Love Phylacteries

New Item Details

Interlude: Injunction

Chapter 39: Alien Stars

System Details: Party Management

Chapter 40: Stakes

Chapter 41: Arrival

Character Update

Chapter 42: Fuzzy Wudgie Was A…

Interlude: Deployed

Chapter 43: Panic

Chapter 44: Parasite

Chapter 45: Once Bitten

Combat Summary

Interlude: Dreams

Chapter 46: Detours

Chapter 47: Mr. Fingers

Chapter 48: Messages

Chapter 49: Simplicity

Chapter 50: Random Encounter

Buff Details, Combat Summary, and Inventory Update

Chapter 51: Missing in Action

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Interlude: Captive

Chapter 52: Companion

Character Update

Chapter 53: Phenomenal Cosmic Power

Summon Daemon Companion (Ritual Details)

Interlude: System Champion

Chapter 54: Maps and Mansions

Chapter 55: Massages and Mausoleums

Chapter 56: Pillar of Pale Light

Combat Summary

Chapter 57: Music Box

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Chapter 58: Contessa Du Reilka

Combat Summary

Chapter 59: To the Catacombs

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Chapter 60: Puzzles Exist

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Character Update

Chapter 61: Pound of Flesh

Chapter 62: Spells and Blessings

Chapter 63: Cracks

Combat Summary and Character Update

Chapter 64: Escape

Combat Summary

Chapter 65: Forced March

Chapter 66: Outgunned

Chapter 67: Possess Interior

Trait Selection

Identified Spell Details

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Chapter 68: Regroup

Character Update

Interlude: Infectious

Chapter 69: Foreshadowing

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Chapter 70: Treasury

Chapter 71: Jade Queen

Chapter 72: Sacrifice

Chapter 73: Elder Corruption

Chapter 74: Unbreakable

Chapter 75: Messy

Chapter 76: Attunement

Character Update

Identified Spell Details

Inventory Update and Combat Summary

Chapter 77: Event’s End

Chapter 78: An Uneasy Return

Chapter 79: Types of Damage

Chapter 80: Focus and Forgiveness

Chapter 81: The Same Mask

Interlude: Intrigued

Epilogue: Foreshadowing

Final (Comprehensive) Character Sheet

Author's Final Thoughts

Cast of Characters (Earth)

Cast of Characters (Alien)

Cast of Characters (System Management)

Glossary of Terms

Bestiary

Full Relic Descriptions

World Lore: Low Mana Zone

World Lore: System Weapons

World Lore: (Starting) Crossroads Upgrades

World Lore: (Encountered) HUD Upgrade List

Pivot Press - Other Books

Sean Oswald - Other Books

Editing Note

Appreciations

LitRPGGroup Shout

LitRPG Society Shout

GameLit Society Shout

Bonus: MARVICK'S CHAMPIONSHIP-CLAIMING COSMIC RIB DOMINATION

Apocalypse BREAKER

An Apocalyptic LitRPG Saga

Forward from Sean Oswald

Co-authoring a book has been on my to-do list for quite a while. I was looking for the right kind of partner, and I needed to be in a place where I actually had the time to commit. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll ever have as much time as I’d like—but do any of us, really?

I could talk about the logistics of co-authoring: the initial planning, creating a contract so everyone knows who’s doing what and how the money’s split. That’s the stage where you determine if you share the same vision and whether your writing styles align. You sort out the tools you’ll use and the workflow you’ll follow.

But here’s the thing—none of that matters if you can’t find each other’s rhythm. It’s a bit like dating. Just because your last partner liked certain things doesn’t mean your new one will. You have to feel each other out, learn the quirks, and adjust.

You still have to plan. But you also have to accept that some of it will get figured out along the way. Maybe that feels natural to me because I’m more of a discovery writer. I usually start with a strong sense of who my main characters are and a general idea of the world, but the rest? I uncover it as I go.

That can get tricky with a co-author. If my vision starts drifting from the plan, it’s not just me saying, “let’s roll with it.” We have to talk it through. That’s why even the best outline or writing plan needs to have some flexibility baked in.

Now, this next part might not apply to everyone, but I’m not always the easiest collaborative partner. Don’t get me wrong—I support my co-author. I show up, I contribute, I try to elevate the work. But for me, someone has to take the lead. In Apocalypse Breaker, that someone was Aaron.

This story is his baby. He invited me into his world, and while you’ll see my fingerprints throughout, Aaron was the lead—and I followed. I offered insights when I had them, but the vision was his to steer. So I guess you could say I’m good at following, probably decent at leading, but not so great at equal-footing collaboration.

Turns out Aaron’s a fantastic co-author. He put up with me drifting off course or missing a beat. He listened to my input, valued my feedback, and brought real structure to the process. He’s built a great team around him—beta readers, editors, proofers—and the little bit I’ve worked with them has been a genuine pleasure.

Which brings me to this project. Apocalypse Breaker is unlike any story I’ve told before, because Dean isn’t like any of my usual main characters. But I truly believe you’re in for something special. You’ll cheer for Dean’s victories and feel the weight of his hardships. He’s got a long way to go, but he’s the kind of guy you can root for.

So rather than ramble on any longer—here’s the story. Let us know what you think.

-Sean Oswald, 2025

About the Collaboration

About the Collaboration

I (Aaron) wrote a version of this book, called Blood of Heroes around 10 years ago. It was before I knew LitRPG existed. If I had, it would be (mostly) the book you’re about to read. After reading Sean’s incredible Welcome to the Multiverse books, I saw the potential for a collaboration.

After some back and forth, we came up with a synthesis between our two approaches. At first, I thought this book would become Blood of Heroes 2.0; essentially the same book, but LitRPGified.

I could not have been more wrong.

As it turns out, writing 30+ books changes your approach to telling a story. Who knew?

The book you’re now reading stands head and shoulders above its previous incarnation and almost nothing in common with it. It also would not be possible without Sean's incredible contributions.

***

About the Crunch

Sean and I love LitRPG, and we’ve woven the unique mechanics for this series throughout the book. You’ll see stats, menus, screens, and so on. Wherever logical, we’ve moved non-essential crunch (such as post-combat experience gains) to their own chapters. This is our compromise with readers less into the crunch than we are: feel free to skip if you want.

Disclaimer: Sometimes we nest little plot details in the mechanical text.

Dedications

Series Dedication

We would like to dedicate this series to mentors. They come in all shapes and sizes, but have one thing in common: without the gift of their time and guidance, many of us would not be where we are.

Book Dedication

Apocalypse BREAKER (Book One) is dedicated to those who burn to change the world for the better.

Participate in Future Books!

This story is being written in arcs, with most ending in at least 1 opportunity for fans to participate. We use polls, votes, and even dice rolls from fans just like you. To participate, stay tuned on Patreon and/or Discord. In most cases, we provide fans with a window of around 24-48 hours to vote on outcomes and arcs. Fan discussion can even shape some of the story (yes, this is why THAT power is in the book).

Where to Read and See Polls?

Aaron’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AaronRAuthor

Where to Participate in Discussions?

Visit our Discord at https://discord.gg/GXn8csy2gg. Just be sure to pick a tag so we know which series brought you over.

Disclaimer: All participation outcomes will be ones that make the story more interesting to write. Have no fear that a rogue vote will make Apocalypse BREAKER less epic.

Chapter 1: Packages

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating against my palm. Forcing crusted eyes open, I checked the message.

Courier #137, this our third attempt to contact you. A high-value parcel is scheduled for drop-off today in [30] minutes. If you reject this job, you will be removed from the service. Are you available? [Yes or No]; Delivery Payment [$350]; Offer Expiration [5 minutes]

My heartbeat thudded into my temples, threatening to bring the migraine back. Sitting up slowly, one hand on my forehead, I glanced at the window near the ceiling of my subterranean room. Orange street light shone through, backlighting streaks of rain.

“It’s too early for this shit,” I croaked, pulling my legs together and closing my eyes again.

Inhale. Exhale.

Gradually, the pain began to recede.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

Courier #137, this our fourth attempt to contact you. A high-value parcel is scheduled for drop-off today in [28] minutes. If you reject this job, you will be removed from the service. Are you available? [Yes or No]; Delivery Payment [$350]; Offer Expiration [3 minutes]

CRASH!

I felt the lance of pain before realizing what I’d done. My night lamp, a cheap thing Mom had gotten me from a thrift store, lay in shattered pieces against the wall. The tooth-grinding anger came with the pain.

If they’d only given me a few more minutes, I’d be fine.

Gotta behave like a normal person, I told myself. Mom and Dad need you to do this, Dean.

I grabbed the phone and thumbed Yes.

Courier #137, you are [CONFIRMED]. Please proceed to [Secure Airport Receiving Terminal C]. Bring your ID. Your drop off point will be [TAP FOR GPS]. You have [27] minutes to collect the package. [Warning] We are monitoring atmospheric anomalies and expect internet issues throughout the morning. Download backup coordinates using [THIS BUTTON].

Tapping the button to download the coordinates, I climbed out of bed and dressed. Since my job required discretion as well as an eye on security, my kit was simple: durable black khaki pants with extra pockets, and two shirts. Grabbing my all-weather jacket, which happened to be combat rated, I walked out of my room.

My brother’s door stood open across the hall from me. A poster on the front had a dramatic scene from some fantasy game, with a dude holding a sword to the sky on it. The words HONOR ABOVE ALL! were stenciled across the top in an embossed, eye-jarring font.

Seeing the poster dried my mouth. Walking over, I reached out, intending to close the door, but froze at the sight of his room. Someone, Mom probably, had left a table light on. It spilled cheerful, warm light across the small interior space.

It was just as it had been before the accident.

Game stuff covered every surface, including the bookshelves. There was barely any room for the bed, much less a computer or personal belongings. Entire armies of miniatures crowded along the headboard, each hand-painted and meticulously posed.

That was my brother, the geek.

Had been my brother, I reminded myself.

Squeak!

I’d gripped the door handle too tightly, and the thin wooden frame was not happy about it. Forcing a calming breath, I closed the door and turned away. Walking down the hall away from our rooms, I made my way up the old metal stairs to the main floor.

My family’s house was on the edge of the city, which made living in a place so spacious affordable. The main floor was the family space, with hardwood floors and tapestries covering the walls to brighten it up. Half of them were Mom’s, donated by her clients. The other half were Brian’s; just more geeky crap, with cheesy slogans that didn’t mean anything.

Making my way into the shoebox kitchen, I found a note on the refrigerator.

Dean, client meetings ran late. Please let me sleep in. Your dad is on-site in Florida for that new construction job and won’t be back for a few days. If you need a snack, check the tinfoil. Also, don’t forget your medicine. Top drawer, next to the counter.

There were four wrapped meals inside the refrigerator, along with bottled water. With a murmured, “Thanks, Mom,” I pocketed two bundles of tinfoil and a bottle of water, then went to the drawer.

My pill bottle had the words Amitriptyline (Elavil) in bold letters on the side. Below, it read, 250mg. Take one pill daily, with food for migraines and mood issues. Monthly Refills: Unlimited.

I opened the bottle, tipping it into my palm.

Nothing came out.

With the migraines keeping me shut in for the past few days, I’d missed the timing for my normal refill. Biting back an urge to curse, I pocketed the bottle and checked my phone. I was down to just twenty minutes to get to the pickup point, which meant I had no time to go back to my room and scrounge for backups.

“Screw it,” I muttered, heading out the front door.

The rain fell in sheets so thick it splashed up the curb. Thankfully, I wore waterproof combat boots, so that wasn’t a problem. Holding my jacket hood high, I jogged a few feet to my dull blue Nissan LEAF and got inside.

No Network Detected.

The car started smoothly, but the central console made it clear I wouldn’t be using GPS this morning.

Temples throbbing in time with the thud of the rain, I eased my car into the narrow street and onto the road leading to the airport. I was just two miles away, which should make things simple.

I drove as fast as I could while remaining safe. Between the rain and the headache, the streetlights became blinding smears, further obscuring my vision. Halfway to my destination, the sky caught on fire.

Chapter 2: Outages

My headache went into overdrive. In mind-breaking agony, I swerved and slammed on the brakes. The car jerked and vibrated, then hydroplaned through a puddle of water. Between the rain, the halo of light from the migraine, and the pain, I couldn’t see what happened next.

SNAP!

I felt the impact through the steering wheel in my hands and an echo in my throbbing head. The sound of impact only added to the pain.

It was in such situations as these when my brother, Brian, would have told me to ‘Roll Fortitude’ or something equally dumb. People could ‘push past’ pain like this in his stories, but not in real life. No matter how much I’d tried explaining that to him, he’d just grinned and went on with it.

Thinking about my brother made my hands clench, which only made everything worse.

Eventually, after what felt like decades, the migraine receded just enough for me to see what had happened. Opening my car door, I tucked my shoulders against the rain and stepped into ankle deep, soaking wet grass.

I was in luck. My car had struck a road sign, but I’d managed to slow it down enough there was no real damage other than a little crack in the bumper.

Back in my car, I checked the time. I had eight minutes to get to the drop-off spot and I still hadn’t picked up the package. Glancing up, I checked the sky, wondering what caused those fiery colors I’d seen. Other than frequent spates of lightning, there was nothing.

How are they flying in this? I wondered, putting the car into reverse, then gradually accelerating down the road.

At the security checkpoint, a young woman in a rain jacket brusquely asked to check my credentials. I came through frequently enough to recognize most of the security staff there. She wasn’t familiar.

Forcing a smile, I lowered my window and did my best to ignore the rain as I held up my badge. It listed me as Dean Williams; Clearance: Secret; Courier for Telyon Supplies.

The woman swept me over with her flashlight. I was your typical nineteen-year-old, with long, lanky black hair and a nondescript build.

“You don’t look military,” she said, sounding suspicious.

It was a common enough misconception that Secret clearance required military service. “I’m not. Telyon paid for the background checks when I got the position. It was part of the onboarding process.”

She frowned, seeming about to think the situation over while rain soaked the interior of my car. Lightning flashed, striking nearby, and the sky growled, flickering with angry reds and oranges.

That must have been what I saw earlier, I thought.

With visible reluctance, she waved her flashlight. “Go on through.”

She ducked into the guard station, flicking the button to raise the security arm and lower the concrete pylons. I drove through, speeding up a bit more than was technically legal. The clock was ticking, and I couldn’t afford to lose my job.

I made it to the designated pickup and drop-off point a minute late. A group of three upset-looking people in military fatigues were waiting for me. They hadn’t brought umbrellas, so their expressions of annoyance made total sense as I started out of the car.

The delivery spot was in a fenced, heavily monitored area next to the airport. Nearby, just a few hundred feet away on the tarmac, sat a small military plane. I didn’t recognize the make or model, not that it mattered.

“You the courier?” The man at the front of the group said, holding up a flashlight.

“That’s me.” I showed my paperwork, and one of the soldiers behind him held out a small, brown package. Accepting it, I gestured at the group. “Three of you, just to hand this to me?”

He grimaced. “We’re doing this to save the pilot from getting soaked while we wait.”

“Speaking of waiting,” the female soldier of the group said. I thought she might have been a blonde but could barely make out her features as she pointed. “She’s here.”

We all looked, spotting another aircraft as it appeared beneath thick, turbulent clouds. Lightning strafed around the large, cargo-style plane, outlining it in a fashion my brother would have described as ‘ominous’.

With a halfhearted wave, the military trio jogged away, leaving me holding the now damp package in one hand. Shrugging, I got back in my car. The internet was still out, but I’d downloaded the coordinates before the interruption, so I drove back past the guard station, into town, and then onto the bypass.

My destination wasn’t far, just fifteen miles away in the industrial complex north of the city. I’d delivered in that area before and knew it well enough.

The rain remained awful the entire way, as did my headache. I took it slow, grateful that it was still early enough that there weren’t a lot of cars out. About halfway to the place, I thumbed the controls on the steering wheel, turning the radio on.

A local news channel came on, the polished, professional tones of the male anchor in mid-sentence.

“…if you’re just tuning in, you’re probably wondering what’s going on with the internet. Well, like the outages we’ve seen in other places, it appears multiple critical servers detonated in a station just north of the city. Telecom engineers are working on replacing damaged servers, but it may take a while. There’s still no word on why these disruptions are happening, or how. Investigators have suggested it may be due to coronal mass ejections. More on that in our next piece. As for local weather, expect continued torrential rain and lightning storms for at least another eight hours.”

Coronal mass ejections, my ass. For weeks now, the internet outages had been getting worse, and happening all over. Not long ago, basically all of China had gone dark due to so-called ‘mysterious causes.’

Someone was up to something. Everyone knew it, and it was only a matter of time before we found out who and why.

I flicked the radio over to a music channel, forcing myself to sit through local advertisements before crappy music came on to keep me company.

My destination ended up being a nondescript building on the far side of a smelly paper mill, across a river. There was no signage, other than a black and white triangle-shaped logo above the heavily reinforced front door.

The parking lot was open, with no signs of security, and only a few cars. I pulled into a spot near the front, then checked my phone.

Network Down. Have you arrived at the location?

I clicked yes. The screen updated with the drop off instructions.

Dropoff to: Dr. Hannah Lestor

Additional Details: The location has a security door. Show your ID and they will badge you in. Retain control of the package until Dr. Hannah Lestor accepts the package. If the recipient is not on site, call this number for additional options.

Backup Number: 1-329-201-2201 Option #3, Option #7

An image of a middle-aged, vaguely pretty woman appeared beneath the text.

Pocketing the phone, I got out of the car and ran to the entrance.

I noticed a security camera, nestled above a palm scanner a few seconds before a tired man’s voice came through. “You the courier?”

“That’s me.” I held up my ID and the package.

Bzz. The door clicked open.

A bronze-skinned, overweight man in a security uniform met me inside. Short, with an affable look about him, he reminded me of every plain mall cop I’d ever seen, except for his sidearm. It looked heavy, military issue, and had a matte black finish.

Seeing my gaze, he flicked me a smile. “You ought to see the guys we’ve got downstairs at the vault, bud. They’re the real deal.” Holding his hand out, he said, “I’m Julio. Nice to meet you, Dean. You want me to take the package from here?”

I took his hand but shook my head. “Sorry man, this only goes to Dr. Hannah Lestor.” Fetching my phone, I showed him the instructions, just to make it clear I wasn’t being deliberately stubborn.

Sometimes, during drop-offs to these types of locations, the people I interacted with were real sticklers, and could cause all sorts of headaches. The last thing I needed right now was to do anything to make mine worse.

Julio took one glance at the screen, waved my explanation away, and gestured for me to follow. “She’s in the lab. Just let me see if she’s got the bandwidth to come up.”

We walked through a tight, rectangular hallway framed in black stone material. There were no plaques, or signs, or even pictures of any of the staff. It was similar to a government installation, minus law enforcement.

The hall widened into a proper reception area, with an empty desk next to a pair of elevators. Air conditioning blasted through vents in the roof, giving the space a cool, vaguely antiseptic aroma.

As Julio walked around the desk to pick up the corded phone, I looked around. The room split down a few hallways, one with a sign for bathrooms and another for janitorial supplies, but nothing else caught my eye.

“Hey. This is Julio. I have the package delivery guy. Eh, no. He won’t hand it to me, says you have to sign for it.”

I watched the security guy’s face scrunch as whoever was on the other side, Hannah Lestor I assumed, said something he didn’t care for.

“You know the team won’t like me bringing him down. Yeah, he’s got clearance, but that’s not…Fine. Tell you what, you let them know we’re bringing a civvy down and I’ll bring him to you. Fair?”

She must have agreed, because he clicked the phone down and pointed me to an elevator. “Dr. Hannah says she’ll meet you outside of her lab. Let’s go.” Julio’s previously affable tone was gone, replaced with a brusque efficiency.

I noticed with mild bemusement that he even moved a little differently, too. Maybe the slow, overweight guard routine wasn’t everything it appeared to be.

The elevator dinged open, and we descended three floors. As we did, I felt my migraine gradually easing. When we got to our destination, it was gone entirely, like someone had waved a magic wand at my forehead or something.

Julio waved for me to walk ahead, and we stepped into a room that has the vibe of a bank waiting area. The ceiling was domed and taller than I would have expected, maybe fifteen feet above us. It had wide steel beams bracing it, with thick rivets. Mirroring the hall upstairs, the walls of this room were all the same black stone-type material. The furniture, at least, looked normal.

Two doors split from the waiting room. One was labeled Lab 315 (Authorized Personnel Only). The other was Networking.

Taking a seat in one of the waiting chairs, Julio folded his hands over his stomach. “This may take a bit. You might as well sit.”

I did, choosing to take up a position across from the man. The lack of pressure from the headache was making me feel a bit more optimistic.

“So, how long have you been doing this courier stuff?”

“Six months.” Seeing no reason not to volunteer, I went on. “My mom is a lawyer, with a few connections. She put in a good word.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” Julio bobbed his head, dark eyes looking me over. “What kind of training do they give you guys?”

“Uh, not much, really. I’m supposed to be getting certified with firearms soon, and I had to pass a basic physical aptitude test. That’s all.” I wasn’t precisely in great shape, but I wasn’t far from it. Exercise helped with the migraines; and up until a few months ago, I’d practiced Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Muay Thai with Brian three days a week.

Dad had enrolled both of us in martial arts classes as soon as we’d gotten to grade school. My temper had been a problem back then, too. Fortunately, his guess about giving me a healthy outlet had worked. As soon as we’d begun sparring practice, I’d stopped feeling the need to lash out at literally every authority figure who dared speak to me.

Mostly.

The security guard shook his head disapprovingly, lips tight as if trying to hold back from saying something he shouldn’t.

Click.

The door to the lab opened. From where I’d chosen to sit, I got a little view of the room beyond. Several men stood back there, each armed to the teeth, complete with bullet proof vests and rifles. Dr. Lestor stepped into our room, closing the door quickly behind her before walking toward me.

The woman matched her picture, only with bags under her brightly shining eyes. Holding up her badge, she waved for me to hand the package over.

I did, expecting her to tell me to go. Instead, she said, “Hold on. You can take the soggy trash out with you.”

Grabbing a sharp knife from a pocket, she sliced the box open, removing the stuffing to reveal a black case maybe eight inches across. Lifting it by a thin metal handle, she put her knife away, then pressed her thumb to a fingerprint scanner on the top.

The box clicked open, revealing a palm-sized piece of computer equipment. I thought it was a CPU, although the design wasn’t familiar. It was rectangular and black, with bits sticking out from the sides and beneath. With a motion, Hannah touched something on the device, and it began to glow a faint, pulsing amethyst hue.

“There we go,” she said. “All in working order. You can take the box up with you. Once the internet is back up, I’ll make sure your company knows we’re good to go.”

I reached for the empty box.

That was when the roof to the room imploded, and a roar of challenge echoed through the air.

Chapter 3: Killer Instinct

Debris filled the air, and I felt a heavy body collide with mine as Julio tackled both me and the doctor. We fell to the hard ground, the impact stealing my breath as sounds of gunfire roared into the chamber.

Someone, a man, shouted, “Contact! We have contact! Get the doctor out of here!”

I felt Julio twist and sensed him drawing his sidearm as two people came rushing up to grab Dr. Hannah. She’d partially fallen on me, though I hadn’t noticed her weight compared to Julio’s until it vanished.

Rotating, wiping my eyes, I tried to make sense of what was happening.

Something huge had ripped open the ceiling, claws like excavation equipment ripping through wood and bending metal out of the way. A face appeared in the hole, the shape and features familiar yet twisted.

It appeared to be a dragon mixed with a mushroom and a demon. The face was vaguely wedge shaped, with a fanning crest around the neck. Algae growths covered its scales, forming thick patches over an eyeless face. Its scales, I noted, were two toned, starting dark red at the top and fading to burnt orange at the bottom.

Brrrrrr-At-At-Tat-Tat!

Gunfire went off as the security men shot the thing in the face, the bullets leaving thumb-thick dents in the flesh. Jaws opening, I saw the monster had two sets, one inside the other, making it an organic trash compactor. The outermost set opened horizontally, revealing thousands of spikes and an inner pair opened sideways, corkscrewing as it spread apart to reveal an orange glow.

I expected a fireball.

Instead, gravity changed.

I fell upward, flying towards what had been the ceiling. Julio grabbed my leg with one hand and, dropping his gun, found a piece of metal with the other. Barely noticing, I bit back a scream of raw terror as I saw several of the armed security guys float within range of the dragon’s claws.

It swiped once, clawing through them with all the effort I might have used on warm butter. Viscera and blood filled the air, floating into the dragon’s waiting mouth.

Twisting, I saw Dr. Hannah and the men who’d been trying to rescue her frozen at the doorway. They’d gotten hold of the door, and one another. A muscular guy was straining, face pale with effort, as he held onto Hannah with one hand and the rest of his team clung to other parts of the door.

“What the shit was that?” Julio said, voice right next to my ear or I wouldn’t have made it out.

A figure had climbed down from behind the ridges of the monster’s back. The creature tipped its head to one side, slamming its crest into an intact portion of the wall hard enough to make room for the newcomer.

It was a man, or at least I thought it was. He was dressed in an outfit that had a military design, by way of someone who’d played way too many roleplaying games. It had both the bulky, plate feel of old time knights yet also bent and flexed as he moved. As he leaped to the ground, I saw one bulky-looking shoulder guard flex out of the way of a low-hanging strip of metal.

The newcomer said something in a clicking language, then drew a long, jagged sword from a sheath on its hip. Walking through the room, he casually slashed at one of the still-floating security guards.

Entrails flew from the man’s tattered stomach as he howled in pain.

I looked away, unable to process what was happening. When I did, I noticed the dragon-thing again. It was scanning the room, its jaws closed again.

No, not the room, I realized, tracing the point of its chin to where I guessed it was paying attention. It’s focused on that knight guy.

A low growl echoed from the dragon as gravity abruptly ceased its pull. Julio and I slammed into the ground, but not before I noticed something else strange about the dragon. The crest around its neck had a vague purple glow, almost identical to the CPU I’d seen earlier.

“Get the restraint bracelet!” Dr. Hannah screamed as she slammed against the doorway and ducked through. “Left wrist. Dragons hate the System. If you can get it off, the dragon will kill this asshole.”

I didn’t know what to make of her words, other than the fact that this knight-person had something on his wrist that might help us survive this. Looking over, I saw she was right. He did, indeed, have a thin purple bracelet wrapped around a gloved wrist.

The surviving security guys, all five of them, responded like pros. Moving together, two went one way, drawing the man’s attention, as the other two went the opposite. Their final team member aimed and fired point-blank right at the knight’s armored head.

I couldn’t tell if the bullet did anything.

Ignoring the soldiers, the knight pointed down the corridor and growled a word. I felt something then. It pulled at my stomach and sent a wave of icy clarity through my thoughts. Instead of having a migraine, I felt the exact opposite as a calm, soothing sensation washed away lingering grief and pain.

The feeling didn’t last long, as a sphere of black light projected from the knight’s hand and darted down the hall. There was a brief silence, followed by a scream and a wet-sounding explosion.

All five security guys unloaded. Julio struggled to his feet, grabbing a knife clipped to his belt. Unsheathing it, I saw the jagged blade was one of those ultra-sharp diver’s knives. Glancing at the dragon and seeing that it seemed content to watch what was happening, he murmured, “Stay here, kid,” then began circling towards the knight.

Announcing something in that strange tongue, the knight turned to point at one of the five. Flourishing his sword in a gesture that conveyed pure contempt, he lunged. The security guard dipped back, feinting and dropping his rifle between his chest and the sword.

Snickt!

The knight’s lunge had been executed too quickly and too well. His blade sliced through the gun and into the guard’s stomach. Again, viscera coated the floor.

Part of me rebelled against what I was seeing, yet that unfamiliar coolness continued to pulse through my head, granting clarity. He’s making the security guys suffer, I realized, seeing a pattern in the knight’s attacks.

As if to confirm my observations, the knight twisted and darted to one side, a horizontal slash of his sword repeating the process.

I heard a click of sound as one of the survivors backed into a corner, speaking rapidly into a shoulder-mounted walkie-talkie. “We have a System Invader. Repeat, we have a System Invader. Contact is confirmed.”

Static answered, followed by a muffled, “Intercept is already on the way. ETA three minutes.”

In the time they’d made the exchange, the knight had continued his casual butchery. Everyone other than Julio and the final speaker was down. They weren’t dead, at least I didn’t think they were.

The knight made a complicated gesture. Again, a wave of cool clarity washed over me. He spoke again, this time in broken, but comprehensible English.

“You there. Know me. Know System titles. Good. Make this easier. Where do you have Uglash and other? Tell me, and I shall make less suffering.”

“Screw you,” the security guard said, dropping his rifle and pawing at his hip for a long dagger. He drove forward, dodging around one of the now-predictable horizontal slices to wedge the tip of his blade against the other man’s wrist.

Pting!

The tip of the dagger went flying. Thanks to the boosted mental clarity, I thought there might have been a small chip in the bracelet, too.

“Not.” The knight said, whipping his hand around, backhanding the security guy across the face.

CRUNCH!

Two things happened rapidly then. First, the guard’s body, minus most of his head, struck the far wall. Second, Julio took his turn.

Moving faster than I would have expected, had I not seen the change in his demeanor earlier, Julip wrapped an arm around the knight’s. Applying leverage as much as force, he put the guy into an arm lock as he drove his diving dagger against the purple wristband.

Pting! Chink!

Another chunk fell off the wristband as the tip of the second dagger broke.

The knight flexed, trying to simply dislodge the other man, but biomechanics got in the way. Julio had the guy in a full-leverage arm lock, so simply wiggling out of it wasn’t going to be easy. With a shrug, the knight instead drove his free hand against his opponent’s temple.

Julio spasmed, blood erupting from his ears.

Up until now, I’d been terrified, frozen by events that I couldn’t possibly comprehend. Seeing Julio beaten, coupled with the casual torture of so many others, tipped something over inside of me.

With the sensation of a light switch being flipped, hate replaced fear.

Pushing to my feet, I charged across the small room, shoving both Julio and the knight backwards with the force of my momentum. The monstrous dragon, having been content to watch up until that point, adjusted its footing, sliding further into the room and twisting slightly. The sharpened claws flashed as all three of us slammed into the wall.

The knight made a sound that might have been laughter. Ignoring me entirely, he dropped his sword, which vanished, and grabbed Julio’s shoulder. There was an awful sound, followed by Julio’s scream of pain.

I don’t know how he managed, but Julio held on stubbornly, even as the knight did horrible damage to the man’s body. It didn’t take complex math or a knowledge of anatomy to know if the knight could punch a man’s skull apart, it wouldn’t take much more effort to rip someone’s arms off.

While ignored, I pulled away, looking for another angle of attack. Julio gasped one last time as bone-snapping sounds filled my ears. A mixture of hate and determination helped me focus, as with a jerking motion, the knight pulled Julio free and tossed him away. In doing so, the man’s other hand, the one with the bracelet, became visible.

Seeing one small, thin opportunity, I grabbed the guy’s arm and shoved. It was like pushing an entire car. Uphill. Yet the knight was distracted, and even better, had already shown that his body obeyed basic kinesiology. With my entire force behind it, I managed to force the limb where I wanted it.

The dragon’s gleaming claw sheared through the remainder of the bracelet.

With a flicker of movement so fast I could barely follow it, the knight screamed, “No!” He struck my chest with one forearm, the awkward angle dampening the blow.

I flew back a few feet, striking the wall hard enough to lose my breath, as several important bones in my chest cracked. There should have been pain, but I was too angry to feel it. I pushed off the wall, determined to do something, anything to make this asshole pay.

The dragon’s jaws opened into a toothy grin. Gravity once again asserted itself unnaturally, this time centered on the knight. He fell to the ground, on his back, arms and legs writhing as he tried to stand.

His sword appeared out of nowhere, summoned to a mostly immobile hand. Using only flicking motions of his wrist, he managed to shear through one of the scales on the dragon’s forelimb. It sent a thin stream of orange-hued blood down the monster’s claws.

Something about that bothered me. I couldn’t have said what, or why. There was no context, no reason for anything in my past to explain why my anger got even worse seeing the dragon wounded.

The next thing I knew, I was on top of the knight’s arm. With my legs wrapped around the limb, I yanked and pulled. The gravity effect, still holding him down, didn’t seem to affect me at all.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the dragon sink a clawed nail through the man’s armor. It wasn’t deep, just enough to penetrate and maybe clip something inside that was important. The pain was enough to distract the guy.

With a ripping, snapping motion, I peeled the hilt of the sword from the man’s grasp. Twisting, I drove the thing into the killer knight. The first poke didn’t do much. Nor did the second. On the third, I aligned the tip with the dragon’s wound and shoved hard and deep, gritting my teeth as I exhaled hate into the man’s helmeted face.

It took a while. Far longer than it should. Maybe thirty seconds into it, the dragon adjusted its paw, applying pressure to the base of the sword, which I still grasped.

Scchhunk.

The weapon pierced completely through, and the knight went still.

Something struck me then, slamming into my chest and head. Words appeared in the corner of my vision. At first, I didn’t understand them, then they seemed to scramble, pulsing a few times until they came into focus.

System Conquest Awarded: You have defeated an [Overwhelming] opponent more than [fifty] levels above your own.

Error – System Not Installed: Administrators have yet to install the System on your planet. All titles, rewards, and loot generated by your success are on hold.

Notice of Transmission: Details of this event will be transmitted to the nearest Administrator in…

Error: Transmission has been blocked. Re-sync will be attempted during the next System Event.

Interlude: System Directive

Expansion Monitor Zatuula, status report.

The command appeared in Zatuula’s field of vision, floating in bold letters and demanding her attention. If she didn’t respond in a timely manner, the System would get cranky.

And no one liked a cranky System.

Standing from her personal terminal, a construct made of purple and pink-veined magic, she disengaged the relaxation enchantments and came to full wakefulness. Tugging up her sleeve, she exposed her System Augmentation bracelet.

A rectangle of text floated above the mana-dense crystalline hoop, displaying her status.

Name: Zatuula Embrinddaughter

Species: Talah (Standard Biped)

Class: Expansion Monitor

Level: 75

Administrative Credits Available: 91

System Assignment Classification: Standard-Administrative

Current Quests: Oversee the expansion of quadrant 173-BZ (current progress: 37%)

Current Assignment: Provide a status report

With a put-upon sigh, Zatuula stepped from the privacy barrier of her berth and into the adjacent maintenance corridor. A tunnel of transparent blue light shone from one direction to the other, the wall transparency allowing her to see distant twists and turns, where one tunnel merged with others. Floating in the starry blackness of space, System Maintenance spanned thousands of miles. Even at her level, she could only see for maybe two or three hundred miles in any direction.

Distant shapes, mostly bipeds such as herself, were visible. The majority were at their stations, although some rushed about, keeping busy with whatever System-assigned tasks they’d been given.

Expansion Monitor Zatuula, status report.

The words flashed, floating closer to the center of her view. “Ugh. Fine. It’s coming,” she muttered, crossing the hall. Her station was across from her personal quarters, tucked into a seven-foot diameter bubble of orange-tinted glass.

In the center, floating in a sphere of magic, was a representation of the Expansion. At first glance, it looked simple: just another spheroid representation of a universe or star system.

To Zatuula, it was anything but.

With a mental command and some mana, she activated one of her class abilities.

Expansion Analysis kicked in, appearing as a tube of wispy, gossamer light stretching from her head to the display. At the moment of connection, she focused entirely on her zone. The map changed as trillions of stars in billions of inhabited worlds flowed by in an instant. She was left with four clusters.

As her targets came into view, her analytical spell provided additional information, the text appearing next to the display.

Aoma: Magical Saturation (80%); Local Technology (10%); Estimated time to compliance (3 months)

Sestus: Magical Saturation (60%); Local Technology (28%); Estimated time to compliance (7 months); Observation: This cluster’s inhabitants are part cybernetic. Transitioning to a mana-based existence has been highly disruptive, resulting in billions of deaths. Current Losses Cost: -10 Administrative Credits; Total System Loss, -100 Administrative Credits. Potential Gains at Current Population Density: 1,300 Administrative Credits.

Administrator, you do not have 100 credits to lose. Should Sestus fall entirely, you will be tasked with remedial quests until you return to your current station. Please review a list of actions.

Sestus Action List

· Deploy Arcane Conversion Unit [Cost: 55 Administrative Credits]

· Assign a Forced Reassignment Team [Cost: 8 Administrative Credits per unit deployed]

· Quest-based Assignment Team [Cost: 20 Administrative Credits]

· Proceed as is [Cost: Nothing; potential casualties – extremely high]

· Mark World for Re-Evolution [Cost: 60 Administrative Credits]

“I already have a Quest-based team on Earth,” she said, eyeing her options. Thinking of them, she skipped down the list to check on the third planet.

Earth: Magical Saturation (25%); Local Technology (90%); Estimated time to compliance (5 Local Years); Observation: Deployed units, members of the [Azagrand Crusade] have encountered some resistance. All beacons remain active. Current loss of life: minimal. Total System Assimilation (less than 25% population losses): +230 Administrative Credits. Warning: The current timetable is barely acceptable. Recommend regular reviews to ensure progress.

“Five years? I assigned several of the,” she paused, checking her notes, “Azagrand Crusade to that planet. How is it going to take five years?”

The system did not reply, so she pulled up her notes on the Crusade.

Azagrand Crusade: The Crusade is made up of multiple factions; expect a typical amount of friction and in-fighting for participants with warrior-based classes. As members of the Expansion, all members have been assigned the standard upgrades. Price Paid: 18 Administrative Credits.

She considered her options, weighing whether to take additional actions. If the beacons were still active, it likely meant the Crusade was just taking their time and doing things properly. If they were careful and showed true discernment, Zatuula might net a decent number of Credits when it was over.

The fact that Earth wasn’t displaying as being problematic led her mind to drift back to Sestus. If she could claim that system entirely, along with all available credits… Well, the possibilities were almost limitless.

“The Crusade can work for now,” she decided, briefly checking on the fourth planet.

Lacarna: Magical Saturation (90%); Local Technology (0%); Estimated time to compliance (1 week); Adaptation Losses (67%; acceptable); Predicted Administrative Credits to be Awarded: 23.

Nose wrinkling at the low reward, she made a swiping gesture to pass the information her spell gave her to the System. The blocky text, which still filled half her vision, flickered, resetting to its normal, peripheral position.

Acknowledged. Next Steps?

“I’m going to focus on Sestus. Before I spend more credits, I need to do a deep dive into the culture.”

At her words, half of the spherical display changed, zooming in on a section of five worlds and nearly double that number of inhabited moons. Walls of text appeared, along with magical menus of sub-actions, each of which would allow her to dive into the minutia.

We eagerly await the outcome, Administrator.

With that, the System text vanished.

Chapter 4: System-Activated

Crushing, bone-aching pain caught up to me a few seconds later, replacing raw anger with confusion. Groaning, I slid onto my back next to the knight’s corpse and tried to process what had just happened.

The dragon was gone, leaving a hole spewing light onto me. Nothing made sense. My head throbbed, a fresh migraine threatening to add a cherry on top of the confusion and pain.

Crunch. THUD!

I looked over to see a gorgeous woman standing up from an honest-to-god superhero’s landing pose. Wearing some sort of military outfit, with a pair of black holsters at her hips, she straightened and looked around.

“Two survivors,” she called up the hole, then paused to curse. “Fuck. Make that one. Vek is down. Looks like one of ours got him. I’m picking up a massive transmission of System rewards. Wait. Oh. Shit. Who are you?”

She met my gaze, I saw her eyes were two distinct, glowing colors. One was yellow and one was blue. I hadn’t noticed before, but she was also covered in thin, silvery scars. They criss-crossed her face, vanishing into her neckline.

“Who are you?” she repeated.

I tried to speak, but it came out as a dry rasp.

“Damn it, you’re hurt. Hold on.” Boots crunching on the remains of the ceiling and bits of broken wall, she crossed to me and bent down. “Healing potions from System worlds don’t work for crap over here yet, but it’s the best I’ve got until you’ve got the full battery of supplements on board. Stay still.”

She reached into a pouch at her hip and retrieved a thin silver vial. Unscrewing the top, she poured the liquid against my lips.

New text appeared, as fresh agony burned through my body.

WARNING! You are mana-sensitive and have yet to be assigned a title to compensate. Risks of mana poisoning are [Elevated] until System deployment is complete.

I had no clue what that text meant, not that there was a chance to process. Bones cracked and popped as my body knitted itself back together. Flailing a hand up, I tried to stop the stranger from pouring the rest down my throat.

“Enough,” I croaked. “That hurts.”

She frowned, looking from the bottle to me. “That wasn’t even half of the dose.” Screwing the cap on, she stood, offering me a hand.

A radio on her shoulder squawked. “Commander Dennings, permission to send a cleanup crew down?”

With the potion put away, a fresh wave of clarity and focus washed through my mind, taking with it the creeping headache. I took the offered hand as she tilted her head and spoke into the radio. “Hold. We’ve got a new Activated survivor down here. Give me a few minutes to find out what happened, and we’ll roll with the standard protocol.”

“Yes, Commander. Awaiting your orders.”

She looked from me to the rest of the room. I followed her gaze, seeing more carnage than I could possibly have imagined. It made my guts clench and churn, thinking of how those people had died. There should have been more; more sensation, more emotion, more…something.

But with the ice in my head, all I felt was clarity. Clarity, and grim satisfaction that I’d helped kill the person responsible for all this carnage.

“Who are you? What happened?” she asked softly.

I told her in brief, simple sentences, what I knew.

When I finished, she turned to give me a strange look. “You say the dragon helped you kill Veknel?”

“Veknel? That’s the knight?” I pointed at the corpse.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

“It did. The sword wouldn’t go deep enough, so it kind of…put a claw on the back and pushed a little.”

She swore beneath her breath, shaking her head. “We thought they were intelligent. If this isn’t proof, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Hat?” I said, looking at her very bare head.

“It’s an expression.” Sighing, she held her hands out. “Look, Dean, I’m going to tell you something. It’s not going to make much sense. The briefing will come later. But for now, I need you to trust that what I tell you is the truth, okay?”

Lacking any other option, I nodded. “Sure.”

“You’ve been near a dragon. That means any latent magic you’re capable of has woken up. We call that being System-Activated. That’s a very, very big deal.” She pointed at the knight’s body. “On top of that, I think you’ve been given full credit for killing Vek. That means all the experience and rewards will be entirely yours, once we get the System to approve them. It’s an even bigger deal. We’re talking save-the-world type shit. And now here’s the hard part: I’m going to give you an offer that’s not really an offer.”

That last sentence set my teeth on edge. No one tells me what to do. It was an old problem, the equivalent of a sore tooth that never healed, no matter what I did. I clenched my fists, using the physical sensation to ground me. Now was not the time to lash out.

“Go on.”

She held up two hands. “First offer, you can go to a special hospital. We can try to extract the rewards you’ve earned. It’s possible. We’ve mostly figured that part out. If we do it right, we should be able to pass most of it to someone else. There’s also a chance you’ll die, or that the transfer won’t work right and we’ll lose the magic. If that happens, I guarantee people will die. Any reward we lose now could screw us, especially if the System figures out what we’re up to.”

I didn’t follow the whole magic or System talk, but I’d played enough roleplaying games with my brother to guess at the basics. Accepting what she’d said on faith, I gestured for her to explain the other offer.

“Second offer, you sign up with our special operations team. You’ll get a great salary, with incredible benefits, and the best training and equipment on this planet. Anyone you care about will be taken care of for life. Guaranteed.”

“And the downside to that second offer?”

“Special operations folks go into the field. They risk their lives to help stop a magical alien invasion.”

“Alien invasion? You’re talking about things like that dragon, or that Vek guy?”

“And much worse, yeah.”

I got the feeling there was an entire chapter or two of details she wasn’t giving me, so I focused instead on what was at hand. My options were: go and potentially die so that I could return to my mundane life or get training and kill assholes such as the knight.

She was right. It wasn’t much of a choice.

“Guess I’m enlisting.”

Things slowed down considerably after that. Commander Dennings tied a rope around my waist and casually leaped out of the three-story hole, then hauled me to the surface. It had stopped raining by the time I came out, leaving only thick clouds and the occasional spear of bright sunlight to shine through.

There was a whole squad of military vehicles and at least thirty soldiers waiting for us, too. They were all armed to the teeth with rifles and had the same black holsters Dennings had at her hips.

Dennings spoke to a dark-skinned young man with stars across his chest. His nametape read Vince. “This is Dean. He’s System-Activated. Vek’s body is down there. We’ll want to extract as quickly as possible. I want three canisters processed immediately, with orders from me to get him on Sup-A.”

Vince took the commands with an affable smile, giving me a tip of his head for acknowledgement before asking, “Are we giving him time to say goodbyes? Do you want a standard wipe of social footprint?”

“Take him wherever he wants to go. Give him two hours. And yeah. Standard wipe of everything.”

“Got it.” Vince waved at me. “C’mon, recruit. Let’s get you rounded up.”

We walked through the parking lot. Along the way, the three soldiers who’d met me at the airport paused to stare. It took me a beat to look down and realize how I must have looked to them. My clothes were tattered, and I was covered in blood. Some of it was mine, but most belonged to other people. A splotchy orange stain coated one of my arms, from elbow to wrist, as if I’d smeared the limb in the dragon’s blood.

The blonde girl looked me up and down, calling, “Vince, did he get Activated?”

“Sure did,” Vince replied. “No doubt, he’ll be joining you all sooner than later.” He tugged on my sleeve. “C’mon.”

“What about my car?” I asked, pointing.

“Anything important in there? Anything you really care about?”

“Not really, why?”

“Leave it. Until you get to camp, I’m your driver. I’ll have someone take care of it while we’re in transit.”

“Sure, I guess.”

We got into a jeep. It was a hybrid, with a smart screen in the center. The internet must have been back up, a scroll of information flashed across the display as Vince pushed the starter on.

“Where to?” he asked. “Anyone you want to say goodbye to? Don’t worry about possessions. You won’t be allowed to take your phone or anything with a signal where we’re going. They’ll have clothes for you, too. Nothing you own will fit after the Sup-A, anyway.”

I told him about my parents, barely remembering to stop when I’d almost mentioned my brother. The cool clarity I’d felt was going away, and the headache was coming back. Based on the spots that appeared whenever I blinked, I knew it was about to be a bad one, too.

The price I pay for putting it off twice, I guess.

Vince drove us into town. Along the way, he explained some of the fundamentals. With my head throbbing, I listened, simply absorbing what he had to share.

“You’re going into government service. It’s a special program in the military. You can tell your mom that. Tell her your checks will be going into her and your father’s accounts. No, we don’t need their account information. Our team will get that information. Once you’re in Counterstrike, you won’t be able to communicate with anyone until you graduate. Even after that, communication will be limited. You’ll get to visit, but only when we know there isn’t going to be a System Event. We can’t afford to have you away if that happens.”

I wanted to ask what a System Event was. The way the guy said it made the capital letters abundantly clear, but even thinking about opening my mouth hurt.

Once we got to my house, Vince parked the truck along the street and waved. “Go on. You’ve got two hours. Use it well. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” I managed through gritted teeth. Trying not to stumble, I practically crashed through the front door, calling for my mom. There was no reply. Looking around, I found a new note on the refrigerator.

Honey, I saw you’re already up and going. I assume it’s for your work. Thank goodness. The internet came back on just before I left with a note from your pharmacy. Did you forget to get your medicine? I went into your room and found the backups. They are on the counter. Expect me home late tonight. Remember: Your Father is in Florida and won’t be back for a while.

Love, Mom

My fist was halfway to the wall before I managed to pull the blow. Instead of cracking the sheetrock, I just left a smear. I didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe it was the fact that Mom was gone when I needed her to be here. Maybe it was the fact that she went into my room. Whatever excuse there was, the anger was there, boiling out as hot as ever.

My fingers curled reflexively.

I remembered the feeling of the sword. The grip had been leather, and fit precisely into my hand as if welded there. Part of me yearned for the sensation again. Not of the sword, particularly, but of the feeling of righteousness.

I’d never killed anyone, or even seen anyone die before today.

Mom doesn’t deserve my anger, I told myself, forcing out a few calming breaths. Once I felt certain I wasn’t going to lash out for no reason, I turned to the counter. The bottle was right there. It was half full.

I took one of the pills, then pocketed the bottle for later. Seeing as I had time to kill before I had to go, I checked my phone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked. I dialed my mother.

“Hello? Honey? Are you okay? I’m in a client meeting right now. Is this an emergency?”

“Kind of,” I said. “Call me back sometime in the next hour, okay?”

“Of course.”

She hung up.

I tried my father next. It took a few rings before his voice, clearly sleep deprived, clicked on the other side.

“Dean? Son? What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Sort of.” Wandering downstairs, I tried explaining things to him as best I could. “I’ve…uh, I've been recruited for a special operation. They say I’ve got to go deep undercover, or underground, or whatever. It’s… it's a government position with the military, and they’ll send you and mom my checks.”

“Military? Like, the American military? Dean, are you sure? This isn’t about your brother, is it?”

A vein in my forehead throbbed as I bit back a retort. “No. It’s...it's not about him. Yes, I’m sure. This is important. I'm...I’m not allowed to go into details, but, well it’s…it’s not normal. I can’t say any more than that.”

There wasn’t much more to say. A few hours ago, I’d been a parcel delivery guy. Then some nutjob in armor, riding a dragon-thing had murdered a bunch of people in front of me. Now, somehow, there was magic inside of me and either I'd have to have it surgically removed or enlist.

Even having lived through it, nothing made sense.

We went back and forth a few times, with Dad finally sighing. “I need to get a little more sleep, but you know what I think? I think you’re making the right decision. Remember when we signed you up for fight practice? That took the edge off as much as the meds ever did. Could be this will just be that next step.”

I didn’t tell him how much worse it had gotten lately. I figured he'd just assume it was because of Brian.

We said our goodbyes, and I found myself in my brother’s room for the second time today. Walking up to his favorite bookshelf, the one with all the fantasy novels, I grabbed a few. Remembering the strange messages I’d seen, I picked out a rule book or two as well.

My brother and I had gamed together quite often. Even more after he’d decided to take a year off before going to college. Maybe something in his old books would be of use to whatever was going on.

As I walked out of his room, I paused next to his laptop. It was covered in handwritten sticky notes, each detailing some important thing related to whatever game he’d been preparing to run next.

The lump in my throat took three tries to swallow. When it went down, the anger was waiting.

Ring! Ring!

It was Mom.

We talked, mostly the same conversation I’d had already with Dad, just with extra steps.

“This sounds very sudden, Dean. If you want, I can look into this. You know my office has connections.”

“No, it’ll be fine.” Mom was a defense attorney, the good kind. She helped people who could barely afford one. It meant we’d always been poorer than we could have been, not that the family had ever wanted for anything.

It’s more important to do the right thing than get rewarded extra for doing the greedy thing, she’d explained more than once.

She and Brian had been alike that way: idealistic.

While we talked, I grabbed a backpack and filled it with the borrowed books. I added a few odds and ends; nothing important, just junk that would remind me of my family. When I was done, she let me bring the conversation to a close.

I wasn’t surprised that neither of my parents raised much of a fight over the abrupt development. The last few months had pushed them both away. From each other, and me.

We said our goodbyes and I took a detour to my bathroom. During my quick shower, I noted that any of the wounds I’d sustained, including what must have been a cracked sternum, were all healed. The dragon’s blood on my arm? Gone before I’d even started the water.

If magic is real, does that mean…

I stopped the thought before it could manifest, knowing full-well where it would lead.

Changing into fresh clothes, I made my way out of the house, locking the door behind me.

Vince gave me a friendly look when I sat next to him. He glanced at the backpack, but didn’t say anything. “Now that you’ve been Activated, you’re not allowed to fly until you’ve graduated camp. That means we’ve got about a ten-hour drive ahead of us. So, why don’t you take a nap or something?”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

I tried to sleep, but the question kept bubbling up, relentless until I fully let it form.

If magic was real, did Brian have to die?

Chapter 5: Through the Looking Glass

Vince spent a while on the phone. Most of it involved coordinating things about my now former life. My job, my internet presence, all of it had to go. I was fortunate that I didn’t have many friends. Brian had been the firefly to bring people into our lives, not me.

I was struck by how easy-going the soldier sounded. He laughed and joked with people he knew and appeared entirely at ease with the fact that he was going to spend his day escorting a stranger.

Three hours into the drive, Vince took a call that was loud enough for me to hear the woman’s voice on the other side.

“Vince, this is Nicholson. Is it true what I’m hearing? Dennings ordered a special extraction for the new guy?”

“Yeah.” Vince confirmed, “He took Vek out. Got complete credit. He’s so loaded with potential rewards, she said he’s glowing like the sun. We’re going to want to install a System override as soon as we return.”

“Okay. Fine. Are you bringing the Sup, or is she having it flown?”

“Checking.” Pressing a button on the steering wheel to engage auto-driving, Vince took his other hand off the wheel. He tapped a quick line of text and got an almost immediate reply. “Flown. They've got enough for twenty doses. She’s earmarked three for him.”

“Three?” Nicholson sounded incredulous. “Okay. I get it. She knows that’ll change his graduation timeline, right?”

Vince snorted derisively. “Captain, he got full credit for Vek. You know what that means.”

“Good point. I’ll build a schedule.” I thought the conversation was over, until she added, “What about Sup-C? Did Dennings say anything about it?”

“Not a peep in either direction. I didn’t think C was ready.”

“It’s probably not. But for someone with that much potential…”

Glancing over at my confused face, Vince gave me a sympathetic look. “We can discuss this further with Dennings on the phone after we arrive.”

“Understood. See you in a few hours.”

He hung up. Putting his hands on the wheel, he drove us for a few miles before saying, “You aren’t asking a lot of questions. What’s up with that?”

I looked out the window, studying the increasingly arid terrain as it practically flew by. A quick check of the speedometer revealed we were going over a hundred miles an hour. “Didn’t you say I’d get the briefing once we arrived?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?” The medicine I’d taken was at least partially to blame for my lack of curiosity. It took the edge off migraines and the anger, but also blunted the rest of my emotions. I simply couldn’t bring myself to care for a pre-lecture and didn’t want to go through a line of questions that he may or may not answer.

“Got it. Not a problem.” A familiar look of concern softened the affable man’s demeanor. He spoke in gentle tones, “You know, I can’t imagine what you’ve just been through. Once we get you situated, there are people who can help.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t want to engage, didn’t want the inevitable discussion about my history.

Vince caught on, dropping into companionable silence.

I dozed for a while, then woke when we stopped at a gas station for snacks and drinks. Vince was happy to pay. “Company credit card,” he said with a grin. “Get anything you want. The world is your oyster.”

I bought a couple sticks of salty jerky and one of those brined hot dogs Brian used to love, and some drinks.

Back in the truck, I bit into the vinegar-drenched hot dog. “Vince?”

“Mm?”

“That package I was delivering. It was important, right?” I told him about the glow I’d seen around the parts inside.

“It was.”

“Why send me? Why not a full armed guard?”

“Good question. There are two answers, one is logistical, and one is pragmatic. Which one do you want first?”

“Logistical, I guess.”

“Vek? That guy who attacked you? He had superpowers, right?”

I nodded.

“There are a handful of guys on the planet who could have fought that guy. Maybe. No armored convoy or platoon could have taken him out.”

“But I did?”

“Sure as shit you did,” he said, pumping his fist. “Ain’t nothing like a little luck to turn the tide. With that asshole gone, we’ve got a real chance, if we can act fast enough.”

I started to ask a follow up question, but he went on. “Anyway, the answer is that our choices are to move equipment around with big convoys, drawing attention, or to be subtle, using trusted couriers. That’s where your boss comes in.”

“Gotcha. And the pragmatic reason?”

“We’ve got labs like that everywhere. They all draw attention. Dragons like to attack them from time to time. That’s just the nature of things. Listen, we’re at war, so there’s going to be fallout. We knew Vek was active in the area and were already on our way. Bad luck that we were a couple minutes shy of potentially saving a bunch of lives, assuming Dennings could take him.”

His explanation made sense, even if I didn’t entirely understand. “What about the dragon? Where did it go?”

“Upper atmosphere.” He pointed. “Unless the System forces them to do something else, they mostly fly around, screwing with satellites and trying to avoid people.”

“Other than the lab attacks?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do they do that?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, we’re not sure. Those labs are where we’re studying aspects of the System. Common theory is that the dragons hate the System, so when they see an opportunity, they lash out.”

“Gotcha.”

It was late that evening, with the sun on the decline when we finally neared our destination. “Where are we?” I asked. We’d transitioned from hilly, rocky terrain into flat desert. Scrub brush and tall cacti dotted the horizon, which glowed with a mixture of browns, reds, and orange hues.

“Arizona, about ten miles out from Counterstrike. You’ll feel the concentration field here in a second.”

“Concentration field?”

He gave me a bright-eyed, anticipatory look. “You’ll see. It’s even better once we get your Sup onboard.”

We turned down a dirt access road with a big, “NO ENTRANCE” sign out front. It looked worn down, perhaps regularly used by heavy trucks, but there was no sign of the security gates or surveillance equipment I might have expected for a secret military training facility. Or whatever ‘Counterstrike’ was.

A couple of miles into the bumpy drive, when the interstate was far in the distance, I felt it.

It was like being near Vek, the knight, when he’d used magic, or when Dennings had given me the glowing potion. Only this was all over. A chill ran through me so rapidly and intensely that I was going numb. Or maybe just waking up.

The hint of a headache, which had begun creeping back in for the last half an hour, vanished, replaced with a sense of focused purpose and clarity.

Text flashed in the corner of my eye.

NOTICE: You have entered a mana dense location.

NOTICE: Participation in System Events are mandatory for all non-support personnel within this area. Reach level [50] for opt-out rights.

NOTICE: You have unclaimed rewards. During System sync, this will be resolved prior to Event assignment.

NOTICE: You are mana-sensitive. Until the System grants you an appropriate title to balance out this sensitivity, you may experience severe side-effects from mana exposure.

“What the crap?” I said, shaking my head at the wall of text.

“There it is,” Vince replied, giving me a toothy smile. “What’s up? What are you seeing?”

I repeated the messages, which continued to float in the corner of my vision. “What’s ‘mana-sensitive’ and why are words popping up in my head?”

“Is this the first time you’re seeing the System messages?”

“If that’s what you’re calling the words, no. The first time was after the fight.” I thought about making the hovering notifications go away and after a few seconds, they did.

He laughed. “And you’re just now interested in finding out what happened to you?”

“Hey. I was preoccupied with, you know, survival and such.”

“Good point.” He lifted a finger, pointing at a series of buildings that had appeared over the horizon. “Unfortunately, we’re just a few minutes away from your first dose of Sup-A and System alignment. Doc Nicholson will give you the briefing then.”

I tried to glare at him. “Don’t I remember you encouraging me to ask questions earlier?”

“Earlier, sure. But now we’re here.”

As we approached, I spotted a group of maybe thirty people jogging around the encampment. They were fast, Olympic sprinter fast, but looked as comfortable as if they were out for a casual evening stroll.

The camp ended up meeting my expectations for what a remote, covert military installation should look like: there were twenty or thirty domed, pre-fab concrete buildings, a couple of warehouses, and an entire convoy of vehicles parked to one side. Tall, spikey towers of blackened metal, the same material as I’d seen in the lab, surrounded the base, with one stretching nearly two-hundred feet high in the center.

Vince pulled us to a stop in a paved parking lot, adjacent to two rectangular buildings. “That one,” he said, pointing, “is administration. That’s where Major Tucker is. That one,” he pointed at the other, which looked to be was connected to one of the warehouses, “is medical. It’s where you’re headed. Captain Nicholson should have everything ready to go for you already.”

I blinked at the sights, then found my attention drawn to the exercising soldiers again. Now that they were closer, I saw they were all incredibly fit. The men were simultaneously bulky and lean, somewhere between bodybuilder and swimmer. The women were less so, more on the lithe side.

“Don’t I get, uh,” I floundered, trying to remember everything I knew about the military. “Lessons on what to call people and how to tuck my bedsheets or something?”

“That’ll come. Given your unique circumstance, getting the Sup-A on board is way more important than all of that. C’mon, I’ll walk you in for the hand-off.” He pointed at my backpack. “Go ahead and bring that. We’ll have to inspect it, but it shouldn’t be a problem, unless you’re trying to smuggle something.”

“Just books.”

“Oh, that definitely won’t be a problem. Not that I think you’re going to have any time to read.” Giving me a bright, calculating look, he got out.

I followed him, air suddenly stolen by the wave of oppressive, baking heat. Instantly covered in sweat, I gasped, short of breath at the shocking change. “How freaking hot is it?”

“Very.” Apparently immune to the temperature, Vince rounded the truck and held out his hands. “I need your cell phone and any electronic devices, plus I’ll take your pack. Once we’ve done a check, I’ll drop it off at your bunk. No problem.”

I handed everything over, including turning my pockets out at his request. Shouldering the pack, we started towards the building. A few steps into the walk, a new message appeared in my periphery.

System Event Warning

Time Until Deployment: 30 minutes

An air siren went up, followed by a man’s voice over a loudspeaker. “System Event, people! Get your gear and assemble. You have fifteen minutes!”

Vince, who’d been unflappable until now, cursed and picked up the pace. In a flash, I realized he, too, was just as fast as the other people who we’d seen on our drive up. “C’mon, Dean. You’ve got to be ready when the portals open.” He cursed. “How the hell are we going to do a full System patch in thirty fucking minutes?”

Clueless, but certain something big was about to happen, I followed him into the building.

Chapter 6: System Parasite

“What the actual…” I trailed off, looking around.

We’d entered a narrow, rectangular room with a tall ceiling. The far wall was covered in computer servers, only glowing symbols, akin to something out of a fantasy game, flickered among the standard LEDs.

The wall to our immediate left was filled with curving screens, displaying what had to be a representation of the entire universe. It was unlike any star chart I’d ever seen, with a giant orange-green blob pulsating over an unfathomable number of galaxies. A blue line surrounded the blob, with white dots pulsating over even more star clusters. One dot had a yellow band around it, with an arrow that led to a complex key to the far side of the map. The words, “Local Cluster” shone there, along with Magical Saturation (25%); Local Technology (90%); Estimated time to compliance (5 Local Years) below it.

A door opened between two of the servers on the far side of the room. I looked over, gaze skipping over a large medical exam chair to a lovely, middle-aged woman with chin-length, curling red hair. Seeing me, she gave me a small, friendly smile. She reminded me a bit of a sci-fi show my brother and I had watched back in the day, although I couldn’t remember the name.

Vince spoke quickly, “Captain Nicholson, we’ve got a System Event in thirty minutes. Good news, the guy is familiar with the lore.”

Captain Nicholson turned from us to a table next to the exam chair. Behind the table was a piece of surgical equipment. Same as the servers, it was a fusion of magic and tech. There was a black armature with multiple hinges, with one end bolted to the steel floor, then ending in a series of needles. A black cylinder with a glass tube sticking out of the top sat next to it, glowing wires connected it to several laptops with displays I couldn’t quite make out.

Putting the case down, the Captain called over her shoulder, “Dean, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little bemused. “What lore? And what’s a System Event? I’d really appreciate a nice, uh, loredump right about now.”

Nicholson opened the case, revealing three canisters. Each was made of a similar black material as the walls, although they also had more of the glowing wire flowing into complex electronic devices vaguely resembling circuit boards. She lifted one of the three out and attached it to the cylinder.

She spoke with her back to us as she talked. “The ‘lore’ is basically our way of saying you’re familiar with fantasy tropes. Tabletop roleplaying games or maybe anime with magic.”

“That was mostly my brother. He was a Game Master who read everything fantasy. Pretty sure he liked anime, too. Everything I know was from stuff he showed me.”

“But if I tell you that magic exists, as do most of the fantasy races you’ve read about, you’ll get what I’m saying in a grounded context, right? Like, you know what elves are?”

Vince chimed in, “Did your brother ever talk about Warhammer at all?”

I retorted without thinking, “40k or fantasy?”

Turning, Captain Nicholson laughed. “There we go, you know enough to get by.”

“My brother had this long-standing debate about that universe that I was forced to listen to every day on the way to school,” I admitted, vaguely uneasy with the direction the discussion had just taken.

Standard fantasy worlds were light and fun, at least as my brother had portrayed them. We’d even done a one-off pretending to be magical ponies that wasn’t awful. Any time he’d mentioned Warhammer it had been in the same breath as ‘grimdark.’

Waving me over, the medical officer fished a package out of her pocket. Tearing it open, she removed a syringe two or three times larger than any I’d seen a doctor use before. “I need your blood for the assessment. Arm, please.”

I crossed the room and held my arm out without protest. She drew my blood, filling the syringe. When she was done, she handed me a cotton pad and directed me to hold it on the wound as she turned and injected the syringe through a port on the opposite side of the cylinder.

“You didn’t flinch when I took the sample,” she observed. With a push of a few buttons, she activated the device, making it hum gently.

Shrugging, I said, “I’ve had bad migraines for a while, plus did years of martial arts. Pain and I have a…unique relationship.”

“That’ll be useful.”

“Twenty-seven minutes,” Vince warned.

“Got it. You can keep your boxers on, but everything else has to go.” She pointed at the chair, which I turned to see was made of perforated metal, similar to the grating on industrial floors. There were no cushions. It had both arm and head rests, but those were just more of the same metal. “Twenty minutes isn’t enough time to give you the full briefing, so we’ll try to distill it down to what you need to know to survive. Sound good?”

“Uh. Yeah.” After a brief hesitation, I stripped out of my shirt, pants, socks, and shoes, and I took a seat in the chair. It was big enough for an eight-foot-tall linebacker and incredibly uncomfortable. The headrest, strikingly chilly, was permeated with the faint aroma of sweat.

“The first thing you need to understand is that there’s an entity invading our world. It’s got a bunch of names, but for simplicity’s sake, we call it the ‘System’. Some of our first recruits, the folks who coined our 'lore', agreed the name was fitting.”

Pointing at all the equipment, she continued, “The System is basically a biological machine that runs on a power source that defies all physics as we understand it. We call it magic. We’ve learned that the System can’t or won’t fully deploy until it destroys most of the technology on our world.”

“Deploy?” I asked. “You mean we’ll all get access to magical spells?”

“Less Harry Potter and more Shadowrun,” Vince chimed in. “When the System takes over, it’s apocalyptic. It wipes out most of the native life, y'know, us, and turns the rest into playthings for its game. Some get cool powers, sure, but only so it can pit them against whatever messed up crap it comes up with.”

Captain Nicholson nodded along with his words. “The System is an asshole. It is also, fortunately for us, kind of stupid.”

DING! DING!

Text appeared on two of the laptops behind the cylinder.

Parasite Installation: N/A

Scout Compatibility: Maximum Potential

Augmentation Ceiling: 300% (Apply 3 canisters to achieve maximum potential)

Latent/Innate Abilities Present: Mana Sensitivity (Trait*)

*Mana Sensitivity allows the subject greater Augmentation. However, without an override, it will also add significant vulnerabilities. Recommendation: Install override.

Experience Points Earned: 130,668 (Qualifies for level 20)

Maximum Safe Starting Level: 3

Conquests Earned: 1

· Impossible Victory

Titles Potentially Earned: 4

· Dragon Survivor

· Far Too Lucky

· Furious Killer

· Scout Slayer

Maximum Safe Starting Titles: 2

Innate Traits: 2

· Human (Race – Benefits Inactive)

· Mana Sensitivity (Benefits Inactive)

Maximum Safe Starting Traits: 2

System Notes: This candidate has been awarded the maximum potential experience points from a single combat. They also qualify for multiple Titles and a Conquest. Installing the Conquest will grant the candidate a System Boon. It will also massively increase the difficulty of all System Events for the candidate. Provided all suggested limits are observed, the candidate will not trigger alarms.

As noted, the candidate’s innate mana sensitivity, if active, will provide up to a 300% augmentation to all abilities that use mana. However, this will consume three canisters. In addition, mana sensitivity adds an equal vulnerability to all magic. An override is recommended.

“Three hundred percent augmentation to all abilities,” Captain Nicholson whispered the words in the same tones of a person reciting a prayer. “We’ve never seen this before.”

Vince snorted. “We’ve never had someone get sole credit for a scout kill before either. Dennings scanned the guy and issued the order to max him out. Three canisters.”

Shaking her head slowly, she pressed a series of buttons, then tapped a glowing crystal on the container attached to the cylinder. Brackish, purple-orange goo flooded the glass tube on the top, followed by a bright red that I assumed was my blood. A centrifuge kicked in, mixing the two.

“What’s the significance of three full canisters?” I asked, watching the process. Bits of glowing energy, appearing as jagged arcs of lightning and fireflies, appeared in the mix.

“We harvest them from scouts,” Nicholson said. “They let us create Supplement Alpha, or Sup-A. It’s what allows us to jack you into the System and alter its outputs. Normally, a single canister is enough to upgrade fifty recruits. Three is…well, it’s never been done before.” She turned, watching the blending fluids. “I need to pay attention. This is more magic than science, so anything could go wrong. Vince, you want to run him through this part?”

“Sure.” Moving closer to me, he spoke quickly. “Think of the System as a really sadistic Dungeon Master. When it interacts with life, it changes it. Most animals mutate. A lot become mindlessly aggressive monsters. Sentient beings get a character sheet, like in a roleplaying game. It’s, well, it's different for each world, but there are enough constants to functionally make it the same. These character sheets are what you’d expect, full of stats and, well, the System labels everyone it gives sheets to as an ‘Adventurer’.”

Following the man’s logic, my stomach clenched at the implications. In a world where the Dungeon Master saw everyone as an active participant in quests, well the outcome couldn’t be good. Not everyone was cut out for violence.

Vince seemed to read my expression. With a grim smile he went on, “Yeah. It’s all just as bad as you think. But we’re not totally fucked. Our tech lets us control System rewards.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, within limits.”

“The key word here is limits,” Nicholson chimed in. “The System itself will respond to certain stimuli. Think of it as the Dungeon Master having house rules, only in the System’s case, they mimic reflexes. If we tweak too much, there’s a reaction. And it’s never good.”

I studied the screen, looking at the Maximum Safe Starting Level entry. “By breaking the rules, would that include giving me too many levels at once?”

“Sort-of,” she hedged. “The thing you need to know now is that our tech lets us tell when the System is likely to respond. That’s how we know we can’t generate experience points or the benefits from earning them. We can help customize the choices the System will give you, like those titles on the screen over here. But we can’t just give you titles or traits you haven’t legitimately earned. Earning them is where System Events come in. Think of those as the System plucking you up and throwing you into a situation that’ll test your capabilities.”

“As I said, sadistic Dungeon Master,” Vince chimed in.

“Yeah. That,” Nicholson agreed. “You’re Activated, so if you see an Event warning, there’s no avoiding being pulled into it.”

I said, “But doesn’t that screen say I earned the experience to get to level twenty?”

“We use our hacks to control the implementation of System benefits. We could let you go all the way to level twenty, but that would mean your first System Event would kill you. Don’t worry, as long as we install a level or two per Event, you’ll max out quickly enough.”

Ding!

One laptop screen popped up with new text.

Synthesis Complete. Maximum Compatibility Confirmed. Begin Sup-A Augmentation? (Yes or No)

Captain Nicholson pressed yes.

Beside me, the needle-tipped armature spun to life. Uncoiling until it extended above me, the needle injectors slid over my leg. At the same time, the mixed fluids in the cylinder drained through a tube connecting to the device. A glow suffused the needles, pulsing with a sickening orange hue.

“This may sting a bit,” she warned as the first injections began.

Chapter 7: Installation

The needles, which were oily black rather than steel, pierced my skin. When they did, I felt a surge of rage. There was no explanation, no reason for it. I was confused and a little overwhelmed with all that was going on, sure, but I hadn’t been angry before.

As the injections crawled up my leg, faster than any tattoo gun, my jaws clenched and my fingers curled. More than anything, I wanted to hurt something. Anything. My fingertips ached with a desire to rend flesh.

Ding!

A computer screen flashed with red text.

WARNING! Anomalous brain activity detected.

Analysis: This appears to be a side-effect of extreme mana sensitivity.

“We need to get that trait activated now,” Nicholson said. She sounded worried.

It made me want to get out of the chair and hit her.

Ding!

The warning sounded again.

“Crap.” Turning to me, she put a hand on my head, looking into my eyes. I felt a hint of something soothing, the press of a cold cloth applied to the back of my neck, and some of the rage subsided. It wasn’t much, but it let me think.

“I feel…”

She cut me off. “Upper-right corner of your vision. Focus hard.”

I did. There was a flicker, similar to the messages I’d seen back at the laboratory, then it vanished. The second computer screen updated a moment later.

Parasite Injection – Active

System Activation – 10% Complete

Tutorial Menus – Available

Initiate Tutorial Menus? (Yes or No)

She tapped ‘yes’ on the screen and a wall of text appeared. Before I had a chance to read any of it, she’d toggled down to an area labeled ‘Traits’ and entered the command to activate both listings. When she did so, two new menus appeared.

Trait – Human (Active)

Benefits: Humanity is neurologically versatile, but physically weak. This makes them highly adaptive yet with a low survivability rate. The System has implemented accommodations for the species as follows:

Attributes: All System-Activated humans will have their standard attribute distribution extended from 1-100 (standard human species attributes peak at 85). At 100, and for every 50 attribute points above it, humans receive an additional beneficial trait related to the attribute.

Hit Points: System-Activated humans will have their hit points increased from the average of 10 hit points to 45. They will receive an additional 25 per level, with class-dependent bonuses.

Mana: Humanity is innately receptive to magic. Mana will begin at 100, with an additional 50 per level.

Localization: All human adventurers will have complete linguistic and System menu localization.

Trait – Mana Sensitivity (Active)

Benefits: The subject is exceptionally sensitive to mana. This creates an additional sense. Local human cultures would label this “psychic” or a “third eye.” The portfolio of properties associated with this trait are as follows:

· Detection: Mana Sensitive individuals can detect the presence and absence of mana. With training and appropriate attributes and/or skills, they may use this to help determine specific types of magic in use. Spellcasters can use this to identify effects from afar.

· Enhanced Potency: All effects and variables that use mana are increased. If the subject chooses a fighting class, these benefits will extend to martial abilities that use mana. · Enhanced Vulnerability: The subject is extremely vulnerable to magical effects. · Extended System Options: Due to a combination of Parasitic Enhancements and Mana Sensitivity, the subject can “sense” concealed System options, even away from a Parasite Management console. Paired with a Parasite Management console, the subject will gain access to options normally banned, restricted, or unavailable to regular adventurers.

The needles kept working, running up my leg until the first of the three canisters was entirely drained. Captain Nicholson switched it out for another as the injector moved up my torso. With every moment that passed, the anger grew. After a minute or two, even with whatever she’d done to help me, I felt I was on the verge of ripping myself out of the chair.

I exhaled, my entire chest so hot that I could feel it in my lungs. To my surprise, my breath came out as steam.

“Mary,” Vince said from nearby, he was looking from me to the screen. “Do the override.”

Captain Nicholson had been typing something. At Vince’s tone, she looked over at my face. Flinching at whatever she saw, she clicked a few more buttons. Instantly, the rage began to recede. When my head cleared enough to think, I saw new text on the screen.

Parasite Injection Enhancement Installing…

Description: Upon completion of dosage, the subject will have a 300% increased benefit from the Mana Sensitive trait. Recommendation: Activate only 50% enhancement per System Event for the first 6 events.

Parasite Injection Enhancement Installing…

Description: Enhanced Vulnerability due to the Mana Sensitivity trait has been successfully disabled.

Class Options Available – See List? (Yes or No)

Install Levels? (Yes or No)

Review and Assign Attribute Points? (Yes or No)

“We don’t have time for him to do a proper class review,” Vince warned. “Those always take hours.”

“Yeah, agreed,” she replied, head swiveling from the screens, to the armature, to my face. The needles had reached my arms now. Despite my unique relationship with pain, it hurt. A lot.

She put a hand on my forehead. “He’s cooling. That’s perfect. Okay, Dean, we’re going to give you access to the System Selections. This is up to you to decide. There’s only a couple things you need to know about this.”

“Shoot,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Where we are right now is a bulkhead. Think of it as an airlock between Earth and the System. Magic sort-of works here, but it won’t work elsewhere on Earth. Any biological augmentations you get will be permanent, but anything that costs mana won’t work unless the System is active in that location.”

“Makes sense.”

The armature paused, allowing her to switch to the third and final canister. When it began again, the tip rotated to a new configuration, bringing far larger needles to bear. Then the armature flexed, vanishing beneath the chair. I’d begun wondering what all those holes were for. I found out when it started at the base of my neck.

This time it hurt more than a lot.

I lost all sense of time and focus for a while. Somewhere in the pain, I heard it click and rotate a few more times, bringing different configurations of needles to bear. At some point, I think it even got my eyes and…other parts of my anatomy.

“Ten minutes,” Vince warned.

Nicholson said, “Got it. Tell him about the guide while I get his attribute selections pulled up.”

I felt groggy, but different. Reaching up, I wiped away bloody tears. Next to me, the armament had folded back up, its job complete. “Guide?”

“Yeah, your first System Event without a class will send you to a tutorial area,” he said. “Guides are folks the System assigns to new adventurers to help them pick a class. Most of them are outright assholes. But your guide will have System controls that let them move to different worlds and access options we can’t.”

“We can’t yet,” the Captain said, determination in her tone.

Vince shook his head, clearly not wanting to add more to the growing variables of the situation. “When the System takes you, listen to your guide. Do what they say, and they will probably do a better job than we will helping you pick your class. Once it’s installed, you probably won’t see the guide again, so treat this as a one-time opportunity.”

“You can’t change the class here?” I asked, gesturing to the equipment.

“Our tech won’t let us change things once they are installed,” Nicholson said, still typing. “Work with the guide to pick a class that suits you. Don’t worry, they will all be useful. Once you have it, we’ll be able to customize future benefits as we install the levels you’ve already earned. Okay, I’m going to bring up your attribute menu now. We don’t have much time, so read fast and ask any questions.”

A new screen appeared in the periphery of my vision. This time it was mirrored on the laptop. It was, as they’d promised, a character sheet.

“We’ve given you as much Sup-A as we can,” Nicholson said as I read the wall of information. “Usually, one canister is split between multiple candidates, so they only get a few attribute points to assign each. The Commander wanted to maximize your Mana Sensitivity, so you’ll get more than the others. I don’t think we’ll have the time to pick any traits you unlock, so don’t worry about that. Tutorial mode is on, so this first time you’ll see all the extra information. Choose fast.”

For some reason, I found myself thinking of my brother. He’d been a methodical planner. Being rushed, or making impulsive decisions, would have driven him insane. I didn’t have that problem.

Initialization – Level 0

Name: Dean Williams

Class: N/A

See your assigned guide for class selection options.

Level: 3 (Installed after class selection)

Installed Experience Points: 14,951

Experience points are gained from defeating challenging opponents and completing System-assigned Quests.

Hit Points: 45 (120 at level 3)

45 hit points is the average of all human level 0 adventurers. You will gain an additional 25 per level. Hit points will regenerate at a rate of 10% per hour. You will not regenerate your limbs without special assistance.

Mana: 100 (250 at level 3)

Your starting mana has been increased from the standard 30, with a bonus due to Mana Sensitivity. Starting class abilities and spells will cost an average of 20 mana per use. Mana will regenerate at a rate of 10% per hour.

Traits: Human, Mana Sensitivity (50% out of 300% augmentation enabled; Enhanced Vulnerability disabled)

Attributes

Human-standard attributes have been extended to 100 from a natural maximum of 85, with an average score of 35. You will unlock 1 random attribute-appropriate trait at 100 points and an additional trait every 50 attribute points thereafter.

Level 0 Attribute Points to Distribute: 300 (Upgraded by 300% due to augmentation)

Due to augmentation, you will gain an additional 15 attribute points per level. Standard adventurers earn 5.

Strength – 59/100: This is a measure of raw physical power. Traits associated with this attribute may enable the subject to deal additional damage to constructs, have bursts of augmented physical damage, etc.

Endurance – 55/100: This is a measure of stamina and innate resistance to damage. Traits associated with this attribute may enable the subject to survive grievous wounds, gain additional hit points, or shrug off diseases or poisons.

Grace – 38/100: This is a measure of agility, balance, physical precision, and speed. Traits associated with this attribute may enable the subject to perform acrobatic feats, enhance precision-based attacks, or dodge incoming blows.

Focus – 75/100: This is a measure of the subject’s ability to stay on task and resist mental attacks, including illusions and charm-effects. Traits associated with this attribute may enable the subject to perform additional mental actions, see through illusions, ignore compulsions, or communicate telepathically more effectively.

Mind – 60/100: This is a measure of the subject’s ability to memorize facts and extract useful insights from data as it is presented. Traits associated with this attribute may grant the subject a perfect memory, heighten insights about the System or magic itself, or to use mana more effectively for specific class abilities or spells.

Perception – 45/100: This is a measure of the subject’s ability to perceive magic and the System as well as the standard human senses. Traits associated with this attribute may enable the subject to detect invisible creatures, intuit the System’s intentions or even earn an enhanced System-Interactive-Agent. They may also enhance any of the standard human senses.

Attunement – 85/100: This is a measure of the subject’s alignment with mana. Traits associated with this attribute may enable the subject to regenerate mana more quickly, be more resistant to magical effects, gain access to free bonus spells, augment class abilities that use mana, etc.

Seeing the text told me why they called gaming knowledge “lore.” The System presented itself just like a roleplaying game. I liked that the tutorial being enabled gave me details some games didn’t. Knowing how fast I’d heal, or how quickly I’d regain mana was useful, even if I did not yet have any idea what sorts of abilities I’d be getting.

“Three hundred points,” I said out loud, doing the math. “It’s enough to get me at least one trait in each attribute.”

“But distributing them evenly like that will cost you most of your points,” Vince said.

Beside me, Mary tapped a few keys on a laptop. My current attributes appeared. Beside them was the same list, but with each attribute at one hundred. It left me with an extra seventeen, which wouldn’t be enough to grant me a second trait.

My gut told me that, since I was just starting out, having a diverse base would be useful. In most games I’d played, there was at least some value in each stat. “Dump stats” might be a thing in tabletop games, where the players could build their characters based on what the rest of their team chose.

No one had mentioned teams or guilds yet, so I figured basing my future around other people would be a mistake.

“Let’s get my foundation to a good place. I can specialize if there’s a clear reason to do so later.” Having twenty levels banked gave me a lot of latitude. I mentally applied the points, getting each to one hundred and unlocking a trait for each. I put the remainder in Attunement.

My final attributes were:

Strength – 100: +41

Endurance –100: +45

Grace – 100: +62

Focus –100: +25

Mind –100: +40

Perception –100: +55

Attunement –117: +32

The heads-up display on my character sheet reflected the changes. Beneath were a couple of bold, blocky buttons.

Commit [Yes or No]

Reset [Yes or No]

Captain Mary said, “Four minutes.” She stood, practically sprinting across the room.

I heard keys jingle, and Vince asked, “You’re giving him a bean?”

She replied, “With this much potential, do you think I have a choice? If we can get his guide on his side, can you imagine the possibilities?”

Immersed in menus, most of what they said washed over me. With an effort of focus, I committed the changes.

Attribute selections implementing in…

3…

2…

1…

You have unlocked traits for each of your attributes. You may roll these at any time.

CRUNCH! SNAP! POP!

It didn’t take much imagination to know what was happening. Anguish clued me in, if nothing else. My bones were breaking as tendons and ligaments adapted to new muscularity.

“Captain,” Vince said over me, again pointing to the screen. “Look!”

I tried to turn my head but couldn’t. I could have sworn that dragon had shoved a clawed hand inside my chest and was squeezing my heart.

No, not squeezing it.

Pushing something into me.

An awareness blossomed in the back of my mind, very much parallel to how people in movies described having extra sense. Only instead of impressions or colors, it was an itch, a nagging, scratching abrasion that set my teeth on edge.

SCRRRRAPE.

A sound like someone drawing a file over metal came from near my hands. The grip on my heart tightened as molten lava scalded my nerves. My thoughts became lightning, liquid fast, as a sense of power rose from my core. It spread outward, weaving itself through the pain of the physical transformation.

I wanted to laugh and scream, to show the world my strength and set it ablaze all at once.

“Here.” Captain Mary’s voice came from next to me as she pushed something small into my hand. She spoke with urgency. “Dean, listen to me! Give this to your guide. Preferably make them eat it. It’ll dissolve instantly and give them some of their free will back. If you can get your guide to help you with this next part…”

“Captain, it’s happening!”

The System Event took me.

Interlude: Warning

Zatuula groaned as she looked away from the summary screen. Reading about Sestian military law, and how it tied to their courtship rituals, had been mind-bogglingly tedious. Even at her level, with all her System’s enhancements, the process was time consuming.

As an Expansion Monitor, she technically couldn’t experience fatigue or soreness. Not being tired wasn’t the same thing as not being bored.

Mind wandering, she gestured, calling up a mercantile interface reserved for her class.

Name: Zatuula Embrinddaughter

Administrative Credits Available: 91

Available Purchases (Prioritized by Previous Views)

· 1 month vacation to any System-Claimed world: 500 credits.

· Biological enhancement (Extra arms): 125 credits.

· Biological enhancement (Extra eyes): 185 credits.

· Up-caste to Expansion Monitor, Senior: 2,500 credits.

· Increase current level: 25 credits X new level (1,875 credits).

· Expand current quadrant to the next local cluster: 5,700 credits.

“With an extra set of eyes and arms, I could do my job much more efficiently,” she said, addressing the curved, glowing viewscreen.

The System responded as it always did to such suggestions as a bright red Reply box popped up over the inventory list.

Rewards must be earned. There is no growth without strife. There is no expansion without conquest.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You don’t need to motivate me.”

Reply: Correct. You have been fully integrated. Motivation is not required. Focus is.

She snorted. “I’ll focus after I’m done daydreaming.”

Reply: Wanting is good. Craving is better.

The interaction box faded, replaced with an updated list of “all-new” administrative purchase options. They included things she’d forgotten were on the menu, some of which would have been at least as useful as extra arms and eyes.

Grudgingly amused, she focused on the updated items, reading the verbose versions of the descriptions.

Next to her, on a screen beyond the periphery of her vision, a separate System menu appeared. It was associated with a planet she’d labeled as “low priority; monitor only.”

Earth - High Value Anomaly Detected

Assessing…

Correction: No High Value Anomaly Detected

Resuming passive monitoring

Chapter 8: Guide

SMACK!

I fell onto rocks hard enough to bruise my tailbone. The transformation that had begun before the teleportation lingered, making every muscle ache. A sense of urgency pushed me to my feet before I’d had a chance to get a good look around.

CRACK!

“Yeah. Hrm. You’re in a cave. Maybe do less of that?” The speaker had a bland, bored voice.

Head ringing, I bent down as a pair of green, luminescent tentacles appeared ahead of me. They were bright enough to reveal the area.

It was, as advertised, a cave. The walls were narrow and the ceiling barely six feet tall. Ahead of me was a being that was an almost adorable sheep mixed with an alpaca. Covered in white, poofy wool, it had an elongated neck ending in an angled head. Spectacles perched atop the wedge of its nose. There were glowing tentacles attached to its sides where wings might sprout and they moved with prehensile fluidity.

One tentacle reached out, adjusting the creature’s glasses as it studied me with large, butter yellow eyes. “This is interesting. Hrm. Unusual, even. You should be careful. It likes ‘unusual’ adventurers.”

When the creature spoke, the sound came from one of the tentacles. Its tone, as translated by my newly implemented System update, reminded me of a clerk ready for a long day of repetitive, pointless work.

I started to ask what it meant by the ‘likes’ comment, but it went on talking. “Anyway, might as well get your assessment out of the way. Says here, you’re human, but also from the Azagrand Crusade. That doesn’t…” It paused with a long, whistling sigh. “Whatever. Who cares what makes sense? Not me. That’s who.”

I looked down, seeing that I was basically naked. My boxers, now tattered, held on like the dying dream of a drunken sailor, the elastic at the waist tight enough to cut off circulation. As it turned out, bumping my Strength attribute had consequences, one of those appearing to be my size.

Lifting my hand, I spotted the thing Captain Nicholson had shoved into my grasp just before the event. It sat in my palm, an odd lima bean.

What had she said I should do with it? I couldn’t focus enough to remember. That itching sensation was back, only way worse. There were nails on a chalkboard everywhere, all at once.

The sheep muttered, “Okay, okay. Human. No class. Of course. Let me see. What traits did you roll? Extreme mana sensitivity. That’s not good. Not good at all. I’m terribly sorry, my friend, but um...you’re quite fucked.”

Leaning against the cave wall, I tried running my back against the stone to ease the sensation. That only made it worse. “Feels like it,” I replied, absently noting that my voice sounded deeper than before.

“Hah. The System exists to make things awful for everyone. How else would it…” His voice trailed off, replaced with a wet gasp of surprise. “This is impossible. You got the zero-penalty version? Can you begin to comprehend how rare that is? It would be like rolling a perfect score ten times in a row.”

Giving up using the wall as a backscratcher, I said, “Hey. I appreciate the whole perfect ten thing, but how about a name. Who are you?”

It took asking three times to distract the creature from staring at whatever System menu it had up.

Finally, it replied, “Ah, yes. Pleasantries. Sure. You can call me Steward. I’m your guide. My assigned job is to perform your assessment, so we can narrow you down to an appropriate class. You’ve gone for a wide spread of attributes, which is smart. It’ll give you a solid base, plus access to the starter traits. The System doesn’t advertise those, but they are all good. Bigger rewards out of the gate helps keep adventurers alive long enough to do interesting things.”

I jerked as the itching worsened, becoming a swarm of biting ants.

One of Steward’s gelatinous arms extended into a finger, pointing at me. “Eh?” The creature, considered a ‘he’ now that I knew his name, slid one eye over me and another in an entirely different direction. “Sub-menu C. Yes. Interactions… Oh. That’s not good. Mana sensitivity and high Attunement don’t interact well. You’ve given yourself a case of Immersion Hives.”

“Immersion Hives? Is that why I feel like I want to claw my own skin off?”

“Well yes, indeed.”

“I thought I was supposed to have no penalties. You said I’d rolled perfectly, or whatever.”

The alpaca head smirked. “You’re not taking fifty percent more damage from any mana-based attack used against you. That doesn’t mean you won’t suffer other consequences.”

My stomach sank as I realized just what kind of a jerk this System was. “Ah, fuck me. It’s a Rules Lawyer, isn’t it? Let me guess, there’s going to be different interactions, all with their own chapters in whatever rulebook this thing is using.”

“Chapters? Oh, heavens, no. Try libraries. Anyway, what we need to do is put those traits you unlocked to use. If you’re lucky, you’ll get one that deals with those Hives. Let’s get that taken care of first while we get the first test out of the way.”

“Test?”

As soon as I’d asked the question, something tore free of the rocks next to me. I got a glimpse of a vaguely humanoid shape, with four oversized, muscular arms, before it tackled me into the opposite wall.

SMACK!

With its two upper arms on my shoulders, it slammed the lower ones into my ribs. The monster wasn’t fast, but it got off two hits before I’d known what was happening. Each one felt like I’d been kicked by a horse.

My reflexes kicked in. Remembering the low ceiling, I grabbed at the monster’s top shoulders and leaned, shoving my back against the wall. It pressed in on me, pinning me tightly, keeping me from falling as I jammed both knees between us to create distance.

It hit me again, knocking the breath from my lungs.

Snarling in frustration, I shoved with both legs, intending to push the thing into the opposite wall. Instead, the force of my knees alone was enough to tear its moldable, clay tissue.

A pair of arms, squishy and damp, tore free. The monster stumbled and I lashed out with a bare foot, toes curled upward to avoid breaking the bones.

SPLORCH.

I caved the mud creature’s head in and it fell, body dissolving into muck on the cave floor.

My HUD flickered, expanding and contracting similar to a heart, bright letters appearing distractingly on the throbbing screen.

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Level 0 Mud Dummy

Victor: Dean

Awards: Guide’s Discretion

Only after I’d read the full message did it disappear.

Steward’s toneless voice came from nearby. “You have survival instincts and some experience with combat. That’s good. Oh, and if you want to simplify things, you can go into the Preferences list in your HUD and toggle on the Dynamic Naming function. I’ve found a lot of newbies prefer to name the things they fight.”

Breathing hard, I came to my feet. Looking down, I saw my sides were red but not bruised. Following his directions, I checked my HUD. The first screen displayed my status, hit points first.

Current Hit Points: 41 out of 45

Status: Beset by Immersion Hives

It took a second to figure out how to bring down a menu of options. Ignoring the rest of the list, I scrolled until I found Dynamic Naming.

Dynamic Naming

This function will assign a name to whatever, or whoever, you’re fighting. If you know the name, it’ll use that one. If not, the System will generate one for you.

Toggle on? [Yes or No]

I toggled it on.

“While you’re in there,” Steward said, “go ahead and set Combat Summaries to Lowest Frequency. It will keep you from being distracted.”

I did so.

Combat Summaries (Lowest Frequency)

Combat summaries will now only appear during significant downtime and will combine all rewards into the least amount of text.

“Good job. Let’s go.”

My bare foot brushed something. I looked down, spotting the bean. I must have dropped it during the fight. “Where are we going?” I asked, bending down to scoop it up.

“The gear chamber, which is your second test. Unless you’d prefer to run around dressed like that?”

I briefly wondered whether the System would grant me some sort of benefit if I fought monsters barefoot and in my boxers. The idea was too absurd to entertain. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Steward shuffled, turning awkwardly on his little black hooves, and in his new orientation, the light from his limbs revealed a tunnel stretching into the distance. He started down it, moving at a plodding pace. I followed, looking down at what I held.

What was I supposed to do with it again?

He spoke, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m going to trigger your Attunement trait roll. You should pray, or whatever it is you do. If this doesn’t help with those hives, you’re going to be one unhappy adventurer.”

My HUD, which had dimmed after I’d finished tinkering with it, reappeared. A rectangle appeared in the center, followed by a line of tiny, illegible text. With a clattering sound, the text flickered, changing randomly for several seconds before slowing. An instant before it settled on Bolstered Mana Recovery (Least), a lime-green message superimposed itself over it.

Extended System Options Override Enabled.

With Bolstered Mana Recovery (Least) still in the background, four different options, along with a summary of each, popped up.

Starter Attunement Traits

Warning: Traits that require mana to activate, or use mana to function, will not work in low or no-mana zones.

Null: You no longer have an Attunement score. You become immune to all Non-System magic, both beneficial and harmful. Your Attunement score is merged with your other attributes, and you gain an additional 15 attributes per level. As a byproduct of this adaptation, the hives will no longer affect you.

Attunement Prism: You naturally adapt to the mana around you, allowing you to wield any type of mana safely. Along with this benefit comes an aura-based power that may evolve randomly as you gain levels. Such an aura may include both passive and active benefits, such as telekinesis or flight. As a byproduct of this adaptation, the hives will no longer affect you.

Optimized: Add 50% of your Attunement score to your chance to resist negative magical effects. Your Attunement score is considered 50% higher for all positive outcomes. As a byproduct of this adaptation, the hives will no longer affect you. Limitation: This trait does not grant resistance to System-generated effects or events.

Override Engine: This starting trait is only available due to draconic contamination. Choosing this will dramatically transform your relationship with mana. Instead of simply consuming it, you will also produce it. The amount, type, and nature of mana produced will be based on a number of variables, including your emotional and physical state, along with your level. At your current level, the only benefit will be a small amount of resistance to negative magical effects. At higher levels, your ability to counter System-driven effects will be far superior to any other adventurer’s. As a byproduct of this adaptation, the hives will no longer have a statistically deleterious effect. Warning! At higher levels, this trait will result in higher-intensity System Events than normal.

I instantly knew what my brother would have picked. Attunement Prism sounded perfect for a strategist-nerd who valued diversity.

Null, I discarded out of hand. Using a tabletop analogy, being immune to a Fireball spell might be nice, but no longer qualifying for buffs like Haste would be downright lethal.

As we walked, I considered the last two options, Optimized and Override Engine. Optimized honestly suited me. I appreciated how streamlined and simple it was.

But…

Starting benefits that were heavily limited, at least in the RPGs I’ve played, tended to be the most long-term beneficial. If I wasn’t going to go with Attunement Prism, that left one logical choice.

Was it worth it though? What was the significance of generating my own mana? I remembered that I’d been told zero-mana areas on Earth would basically prevent me from using special abilities. Would Override Engine mitigate some of that? Was being resistant to whatever ‘System-driven effects’ worth the consequences of more challenge?

I looked at my guide, then down at my hand. My instincts told me asking him about the options would be a bad idea. If he knew what I was doing, what Earth was capable of, he might react poorly. For all I knew, guides might be hard-coded to report things similar to that.

The bean was to do something to the guide, something useful. Without it in place, I didn’t think it was safe to open my mouth and risk the consequences.

Ultimately, I decided that the mission, my purpose in being here, was to stop the System. If Override Engine would help me do that, so be it.

With a mental effort, I selected that option.

The new warmth in my chest pulsed, rippling and growing noticeably. To make things even more strange, when I looked down, I saw my bare chest rippling. There was an intense, pleasant pressure, then a release as a pulse of orange-red energy briefly suffused my skin.

As the trait took hold, the sandpaper grating of the hives changed. Now, it felt like it was inside my skin. On the upside, at the reduced intensity, the effect was merely annoying.

“Well, I’ll be,” Steward said, glancing over at me. He sounded almost excited. “Haven’t seen that trait before. Ah, here we are. Good timing, too. I’m hungry.”

We turned a corner, and the hall stopped, ending in a cavernous room. Ambiently illuminated; despite having no visible light sources, it was filled with large, anime-style treasure chests. Arranged in a grid, they came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some were bound in brass and gold, while others were more ornate, appearing to be carved out of solid gemstones or layered in platinum.

“I’ll go over a few things while you complete this one,” he announced as a bowl of lettuce-looking food appeared on the floor before him. “Find your starter gear. Take your time though. Each of the three trials is more dangerous than the last. The System doesn’t like to kill new recruits, but it will weed out the weak or stupid ones without hesitation.”

One of his glowing limbs turned to me, a bubbling eye-shape appearing at the end of a stalk. “This is irregular of me to ask, but would you mind doing me a favor?”

I studied the room, feeling a mixture of wariness and curiosity. “What?”

“Don’t die. People as lucky as you don’t usually last long.” With that, the alpaca head lowered and began to loudly chew the leaves.

Chapter 9: Two Words: Rabid. Beaver.

There was an opportunity here. Steward was eating. All I needed to do was get the bean into his food and wait until he ate it. But both of his tentacles appeared to act as sensory apparatus, meaning if I made a move, I could blow my cover.

Deciding to wait for a better opportunity, I clutched the bean and moved cautiously into the chamber.

The chests were arrayed into ten distinct rows, with dozens of variations falling inside these rows. Nearing the first one, a platinum and gold encrusted box with a heavy lid, I saw a word scrawled on the front. It was “hands.”

Seeing no immediate danger, I moved among the rows and quickly found that all the chests in a row had the same designation, and that there was a different label for each row. They were:

· Hands

· Head

· Forearms

· Torso

· Belt

· Pants

· Feet

· Accessories

· Wildcard

One of Steward’s tentacles said, “You get to open one in each row. What you do, and how you do it, will help narrow down the type of class I’ll offer you.”

Close inspection of the nearby chests revealed a variety of complex sigils and glyphs along the base of each. In addition, the metals and gems appeared to have a repeating pattern from row to row, suggesting there might be a correlation between placement, symbols, and the types of boxes.

I looked up. The ceiling was ten feet tall. Even if I jumped on top of a chest, I wouldn’t be able to see any patterns from above clearly. If I wanted to put together a full map, I’d need to take a long time, maybe even hours, jumping from box to box and then cross-referencing all those details.

“I don’t suppose there’s a preferences toggle to get some sort of scratch pad or camera feature?”

“Preferences toggle? No. HUD upgrade, yes, but those come later on.”

“Figures. Isn’t my Mind score a hundred now? Shouldn’t I have perfect recall?”

Steward made a thoughtful noise. “System attributes mostly rely on trait benefits to make big changes to an adventurer. That said, over time you’ll notice how everything you do is improved. Mind is a bit nebulous compared to Strength or even Perception, but the System wants your personality intact. If everyone had perfect memories and logic, it would ruin the fun.”

It made sense, even if I didn’t particularly care for it.

I took a few minutes, walking around and looking for any overt sign to tell me which chest was best. Part of me hoped my HUD would light up with some special hack, auto-targeting the most useful option. It did not.

At least now I knew one of the limitations that came with our injection technology. I might have an advantage over certain types of randomness, but it wouldn’t solve every puzzle for me. Hell, it wouldn’t even upgrade my HUD, which felt both odd and a total let-down. If we could force the system to give me better outcomes, why not unlock all the HUD features, too?

Eventually, when it became clear that my stat upgrades hadn’t made me into a genius, I muttered, “I hate puzzles.”

Steward, still munching, replied, “That’s okay. The System isn’t big into them either.”

But if the System didn’t enjoy puzzles, why give me one during the assessment? I stopped short of asking that, as one obvious answer popped up. What if this wasn’t the type of puzzle I thought it was?

I checked over my character sheet again, reviewing my Mana Sensitivity trait. It was listed as having a 50% boost.

Benefits: The subject is exceptionally sensitive to mana. This creates an additional sense. Local human cultures would label this “psychic” or a “third eye.”

Thinking back to old movies, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to “feel” magic. All I sensed was the itch. On impulse, I took a few steps down the “forearms” row. The itch receded as I walked between two of the evenly spaced boxes, then returned even more strongly at the next.

“That’s it,” I said with a sense of triumph. It had been a puzzle, just not the one I’d thought it was.

I moved down each row, trying to determine if there was some sort of discrete scale to the magic in each box. It was a long shot, but after hearing Steward describe things as “rolls” more than once, my gut told me the System likely had a methodical approach to randomness.

After many minutes, long enough for my stomach to start growling, I thought I’d figured out the pattern. Each row had two hundred chests. Of those two hundred, there were ten that made my skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Solved it, did you?” Steward said, a beat after I’d come to the conclusion. “I’m allowed to tell you the odds of getting something useful, if you’d prefer.”

“Sure.”

“Each of the chests you’ve identified does, in fact, contain something at least mildly magical. The others were decoys or lesser items, such as salves and scrolls. Single use stuff. Of the ten in each row, approximately half will be tailored for your current level. Consider these common quality magical items, as you’ll outgrow them quickly. There is a modest chance for an uncommon item that should help you for a few extra levels. Finally, there’s an infinitesimal chance for a legendary item or even a relic. I won’t bother going into those details, as the odds of you winning either are astronomical.”

Just hearing him say that made me want to turn the tide in my favor.

I stepped back, considering. Without my HUD to alter the odds, how could I manufacture a situation that would allow me to get the best possible results? My mind briefly wandered to a few of the games my brother and I had played. He’d enjoyed running what he called ‘Session Zeroes’ where the players built their characters and got starting gear.

Every once in a while, a player would do something epic and earn a reward that would change the nature of an entire campaign.

In this situation, with so much on the line, I wanted to do that here.

But how?

Brian would have known. He was a planner, a thinker. Even without the guide’s help, he’d have done some clever trick involving rope, lengths of wood, and pulleys to open multiple chests simultaneously.

I didn’t have rope or wood, much less pulleys. All I had was a torn pair of boxers and the guide.

Looking over, I assessed Steward, considering what I’d need to do to get the bean inside him. He’d finished eating and was content to watch me in that judging, smug way some alpacas had.

“Steward, a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Are there any monsters inside these chests, perchance?”

He made a thoughtful sound. “Maybe. If there were, your discovery would have bypassed them all. I can’t tell you for certain.”

There it was. An opportunity.

Walking to the Hands row, I found one of the ten magical chests and opened it. Inside, laying upon a bed of velvet, was a pair of leather gloves with folds at the wrists. When I picked them up, the entire row of remaining chests vanished, and my HUD updated.

Grippy Gloves: These gloves provide you with the (Lesser) Grappling trait. This enhances your chances to maintain a hold, even on slick objects or surfaces, by 20%. They also provide modest defense against a variety of damage types.

Tutorial Note: Since this is your first time receiving a magical item, here’s some additional context. All magical items are resistant to damage. That does not make them immune to it. In fact, the System ecosphere supports a wide array of ways to disable or even destroy gear like this. Finally, it is possible to break down enchanted objects for a variety of outputs. Additional information may become available at a higher level, or when situationally appropriate.

I read the text as I tugged the gloves on. They were a little loose on my hands until I found the clever drawstrings concealed in each wrist. Pulling on them cinched the material down.

Unfortunately, I’d overlooked one problem.

Wearing the gloves made my hands itch. It was a lot like putting them in snow, then warming them with hot water. There was no pain, precisely, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable.

Confident in my theory, I went directly to the pants row and opened one of the highly magical chests at random. Inside was a pair of neatly folded leather pants.

Pants of the Rabid Beaver: These pants will grant you a pleasant, vaguely vanilla aroma. This may boost your sex appeal. Once a day, they also allow the wearer to go “rabid”. Upon activation, you will gain a small boost to speed and damage, with a 50% boost to damage against targets with cellulose skin.

I blinked in confusion, looking at my guide. “These are called Pants of the Rabid Beaver.”

“And?”

“That’s a silly name.”

He said, “The System can have a sense of humor. As you progress in strength, you’ll notice that sort of thing is likely to increase, as the System pours more resources into testing you both psychologically as well as physically. Humor can be disarming.”

“I see.”

The pants, unlike the gloves, fit a bit too snugly. Fortunately, they were front lacing, which made accommodating my new size relatively simple. Wearing them made everything beneath my navel twitch. In fact, with two magical items equipped, I felt my hands flexing involuntarily. Being constantly annoyed was triggering a resurgence of my anger.

Remembering the bean, which was now sweaty from my having held it for so long, on top of collecting grime from the floor, I stuffed it into a tiny, tight pocket. “Oh no,” I groaned. “Tiny pockets. Are these women’s pants?”

“Why would you assume that?”

“The tiny pockets.”

Steward’s alpaca head lifted, eyes moving to his glasses. After a beat, he said, “You’re right. As I warned you, the System can seem to have a sense of humor.”

Between the stinging and the insult, I found myself longing for the clay monster, just to have something to hit.

Deciding I wasn’t willing to cover my entire torso in the awful sensation, I moved to that row. This time, instead of going directly for a high-magic chest, I searched for one that felt the opposite.

The magical gear I wore dampened my senses slightly, which slowed me down. After several more minutes, I found a pair of chests that felt odd. Instead of making my skin prickle, there was a not-so-subtle burn.

Picking one of the two that was closer to Steward, I exhaled, readying myself for what I hoped would happen next.

Then I yanked the chest lid open.

Chapter 10: One in the…

The chest ripped apart, transforming as it did. Gemstones and steel blurred, becoming gray as a crouched, humanoid figure made a slicing motion at my legs. It’s hand morphed as it swung, growing a thin blade that drew a long furrow across both thighs.

It burned, but the pain also lent my growing anger focus.

Clasping my hands together, I brought both down on the monster’s shoulder. The impact drove it down, but rather than falling, it bent into liquid steel before flowing backwards.

My HUD updated, labeling this thing a Transforming Fallen.

“Ah!” Steward called, “unfortunate that you found one of those. There is some good news. I am now allowed to explain a bit about monsters and hit points.”

While he spoke, the fallen swiped at me. It was shorter by a head and a half, its amorphous body sporting only a pair of eyes, a slit for a nose, and a bestial mouth. The mouth was the only organic looking part of the body and reminded me a little of a bear, complete with fur and oversized, yellow fangs.

Using every bit of sparring practice I’d had, I dipped out of range and responded to a punch with one of my own. The gloves protected me from breaking bones as metallic flesh crunched and the thing fell back a few steps.

Seeing it move further away made me even angrier. “You’re not getting away,” I snarled, seeing the creature as a safe target to vent some of my mounting frustrations.

Living with a constant, nagging itch had gotten to me a bit more than I’d thought.

“There are three fundamental types of monsters. One is made of magic, ones of reconstituted biomass, and ones who are former adventurers who go full-System. You need to really watch out for the last. That sort has no self-control. The System literally owns them. What you’re fighting right now, a transforming fallen, was once an adventurer. I assume they died in this cave.”

Steward's droning lecture proved distracting enough for the fallen to squeeze between a pair of chests and tag my ribs with an elongated limb. It used a combination of spikes and blades that left a burning, bloody trail.

“Fuck off,” I snarled, snapping out a backhand that it narrowly dodged. Turning to face it, I lowered my shoulder and dove. It managed to grow several short spines across its chest before the impact.

Pain and blood flowed down my skin as I lifted the thing, then hurled it away from me. It landed twenty feet closer to Steward’s location.

He didn’t seem to care. In fact, he just kept lecturing.

“The concept of ‘hit points’ is a little nebulous, too. Using the weapons I see are common on your world, handguns and what-not, the translation would be like this. A single bullet from a fifty caliber Desert Eagle would deal approximately ten points of damage. Falling from a height of thirty feet would be about the same. Now, getting into a head-on collision at fifty miles an hour would be closer to twenty, maybe thirty. As of right now, you’ve taken ten points of damage from the fallen. So, technically, that should be enough to kill practically any mundane person from your world.”

The fallen pushed off a chest and met my charge, hands outstretched. It grew long, wicked needles an instant before we clashed. I felt them carve through my brand-new gloves and cursed.

Its animal mouth opened and a mocking, “Hork, hork,” came out.

Red flickered around the edges of my vision, a vignette of manifest hate. Accepting the pain, I stepped toe-to-toe with the monster, driving a knee into its chest.

RIIIIP!

The cloth of my new pants split as three blades intercepted my blow. Blood spattered the fallen’s chest as it hurtled into the air once more. This time, it landed just behind Steward, who’d continued his lecture.

“Funny how my interface shows your home world as a place called Earth and also says you’re one of the Crusade, eh? We can discuss that after, assuming you survive. Now, where was I? Ah. Yes. Hit points. As you can probably guess, status-effects, things like curses to lower resistances and so on, will be invaluable to you as you grow in power. Once you’re fighting things that can survive falling from the literal stratosphere, you…”

He trailed off as I ran past him.

By now I was covered in blood, although I didn’t feel the damage. Something about that ‘hork hork’ laughter, or maybe it was knowing that the monster had already damaged my brand-new magical items, made me want nothing more than to see this creature put down.

Next to a bemused Steward, I clashed with the fallen. Even furious, enough of my analytical mind remained active to note a pattern. As it grew spikes along one foot to kick me, I saw the other spines it had extruded along an arm retreat.

It had limited biomass.

The kick scoured my shin, adding damage to the pants and coating my entire leg in bright blood. “Hork! Hork!”

I feinted a punch to the forehead then, at the last instant, redirected it into an elbow strike a few inches below. As I’d hoped, it pushed spines out of the obvious target, leaving the real one vulnerable.

With all my leverage and speed, I drove my bent elbow into the only spot I thought was vulnerable: the horker’s mouth.

“Hughhhhh,” it said, laughter becoming a groan as I knocked half the fallen’s teeth out. Bright yellow blood gushed from the wound as it took a step back.

I pressed the advantage, varying my assault. I hit it on the mouth again, then again. On the third blow, it adjusted, creating a mesh of metal to protect its now toothless maw. It mumbled at me, and I spat blood into its eye slits.

“Hork, motherfucker,” I said, kicking its shins. Without proper shoes or protection, it probably hurt me more than the monster. I did it again anyway, holding nothing back.

At my second attack, the creature toppled forward, the protection on its mouth retracting as it grew intercepting spines. I grabbed a shoulder and shoved it to the ground next to Steward. As soon as it fell, I brought my foot onto the back of its head.

Crunch!

It jerked beneath me, rotating one hand all the way around to grab my thigh. With alien strength, it drew me down. I leaned as I fell, turning it into a roll that brought us even closer to the guide. One of the fallen’s flailing limbs lashed out, passing through Steward’s flesh as if he was not there. He didn’t even respond to the contact. Now that his lecture was over, he’d refilled his bowl and resumed eating.

This was it. My chance. Or was it? If the fallen’s arm had passed through Steward, it was possible that the bean would do the same. Plus, now that it was slick with sweat and dirt, how would he not notice the flavor?

The fallen ground sharp nubs against my legs and chest. Rearing back, it picked one of my ribs and started beating at it. I grunted, the pain finally breaking through my anger.

Using both hands, I fended off one attack, then I used the other to collect the senzu bean, or whatever they’d called it, from my pocket. Once I had it between two fingers, I made a motion to grab and roll with my assailant, intending to shove the bean into Steward’s bowl or mouth.

Only I’d miscalculated our positioning, or maybe the length of the guide’s body. I was too far away to make the maneuver anything other than obvious.

That left only one choice.

Wrapping my legs around Hurk, I squeezed my abdominal muscles, lifting the relatively light-weight monster through Steward’s body. Both of Steward’s pseudopods followed the motion reflexively, meaning all his attention was elsewhere as I did what I had to do.

I shoved the bean directly into the guide’s hairy, sheepy asshole.

Much to my dismay and relief, I felt the contact. It came across as slightly muffled and disgusting, but it worked. Steward made a high-pitched, curious sound and danced away, taking the rapidly melting bean with him.

“Oh. Oh my!” Steward cried. He didn’t sound upset, which was, in and of itself, a little upsetting.

I tried not to look or think of what the melting bean was doing at that moment. Fortunately, the fallen was still alive and kept my attention.

My maneuver had smashed the thing’s head into the floor, which wasn’t actually what I’d been aiming for, but proved useful. It flailed, neck at an odd angle as it kept kicking at me. Both of its legs had short spines, and were doing gnarly, if not precisely critical damage.

A wave of wooziness splashed through me as I tried to get away and stand. The fallen did not rise but continued flailing. Stripping my now tattered, ruined gloves off, I balled the material up around one fist and dove, driving the attack into its head.

Crunch!

That did it.

It went still.

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Level 3 Transforming Fallen

Victor: Dean

Losses: Grippy Gloves, Pants of the Rabid Beaver

Awards: 2,100 experience points.

Out of morbid fascination, I checked my hit points.

Current Hit Points: 6 out of 45

Status: Bleeding Out; Rate 1 hit point/minute with a 25% chance to clot every 30 seconds.

“Ah, crap. Don’t suppose you can help?” I asked, weakness stealing my strength as I nearly fell.

Steward finally turned to face me. His yellow eyes shone with a liquid, weepy film. “I’m afraid I cannot.”

Chapter 11: Gentle Nudge

I’d heard somewhere that taking medicine in a suppository format increased the effectiveness and absorption. As I dragged my blood-soaked body towards the remaining chests, I made a mental note to ask Captain Nicholson if they’d experimented in that region.

Most of me hoped the answer would be no.

Feeling every second wasted, I opened a “forearms” chest. It was just a pair of leather vambraces with a minor enchantment on them.

Weapon Holding (Lesser): Touch any weapon lighter than 1% of your maximum lift to a vambrace. It will be stored within it. You may store two such weapons in this way. Summoning a weapon will cause it to appear in an open hand. If no open hand is available, it will appear in the nearest safe space to you, up to 10 feet away. If the space is occupied, the vambraces will not function.

Useful, but they weren’t going to restore my hit points.

I checked my HUD.

Current Hit Points: 4 out of 45

Status: You are no longer bleeding out but are temporarily weakened due to blood loss. All physical attributes are 25% less effective.

Relief washed over me as it seemed the dice gods had rolled in my favor.

“Going to have to take a couple days off before the next test,” I said, just a little shakily. Now that I was out of the battle rage and faced with an accumulation of wounds like I’d never known, the weight of the situation was finally setting in.

I’d met a dragon, gone to another world, and was about to die in the session zero tutorial. That my plan to use the bean was the reason for my injuries was cold comfort. If I was forced to fight again anytime soon, I’d probably die.

Steward spoke from nearby. He’d crossed fully into the room and was at the end of the next row. “No, you won’t. Remember your character sheet? The System doesn’t care for downtime. You regenerate ten percent of your health an hour. If it helps, you can turn on a regenerative overlay in your Preferences menu.”

His voice had changed. Instead of being aloof, he sounded on the verge of tears.

I took a second to find the toggle labeled Show Regeneration Rates. Once I did, some of my worries eased.

Current Hit Point Regeneration: 4 per hour

Current Mana Regeneration: 10 per hour

“Well, okay then, that’s some good news,” I said, moving myself to the “head” chest that made me itch. On the positive side, not only had I already identified most of the target chests, but without the pants or gloves distracting me, I found the ones I wanted with much greater ease.

I opened it, revealing a long, ceremonial headdress.

Headdress of Storms: This headdress has 5 charges. The wielder may spend 1 charge to summon a small, localized storm. Each additional charge spent greatly amplifies the power and size of the generated storm. The storm may generate random lightning strikes, which will occur with increasing frequency for larger storms. The wielder is immune to these strikes and, with luck and concentration, may direct them. Note: Lightning does a lot of damage. Recharge: This magical item regenerates 1 spent charge every 2 days. Limitation: This headdress will not function in enclosed spaces.

“Crap.” Situationally, the headdress was the most powerful magic item I’d found so far. Not that it would be helping me anytime soon.

“Any chance for an inventory menu or bag of storage?” I asked, looking over at Steward. He was staring at me, his adorable alpaca face quivering, lips working around unspoken words.

He choked out, “Not yet. Not unless you find one.”

Lifting the headdress free of the chest, I studied it. Fortunately, it didn’t have any similarities to a Native American version. Instead of ceremonial feathers, this was a band of blue-silver metal connected to jagged, lightning bolt shaped bits of chain and gleaming gems.

When I put it on, a few of the swinging chains and gems flopped against my lips and cheeks. It would have been distracting even without the other consequences.

Wearing the headdress made all previous discomfort from magic seem like a pleasant daydream. My vision swam as a migraine roared to life, obliterating all other thought.

With a cry, I fell to the ground, yanking the headdress off as I went. As soon as it no longer touched my head, the pain lessened. It lessened, but did not go away. In its place arose something else…

Anger.

Static.

….

I blinked and found myself standing over Steward. The guide was watching me, saying nothing. My hands were in fists, the knuckles so tight they’d turned white.

“What…” I licked my lips, finding my mouth dry. Speaking made my voice crack, and my throat hurt. “What just happened?”

“I do not know,” Steward said in a whisper. “It was nothing I’d ever seen before. When I tried to assess you, my analytics spells failed.”

Lowering my hands, I straightened and looked around to see if anything had changed. The half-empty room stretched behind me, and my HUD showed my hit points had recovered a bit, taking me up to eight.

Part of me recognized that it was probably a good time to sit down and figure out what was going on. But I also saw the dangers of that path. Until I was in a place I knew was safe to talk without triggering the System, it was best to keep my mouth shut.

That didn’t keep my guide from speculating, however. “It must be Mana Sensitivity and the Override Engine. They are interacting. But how?”

“I’m going to open another chest,” I said, moving to the “belt” row.

Steward was lost in thought, mumbling to himself, but a subtle motion of one of his pseudopods gave me pause. On the verge of opening the chest, I saw the thing form a hand. It shifted into a grip, then made a sharp, tugging gesture. After doing so, it returned to its amorphous shape.

On the verge of touching the lid, I hesitated. Taking another look at the chest, it was gem-encrusted, with thumb-sized shards poking out from the base at irregular intervals. Hopeful that the bean was acting on my behalf, I tried following the pseudopod’s instructions.

Wrapping my fingers around a gem, I tugged. Nothing happened. I tried another, then another. Still nothing.

After a minute of that, I realized that there were more of the gems on the back. I walked around the box and resumed the process. Eventually, I found one in the lower-left corner that wiggled slightly. A firm tug caused it to glow red-orange.

So far, I’d felt itching, burning, or nothing at each chest. Now, for the first time, there was something…pleasant. It was a cool, soothing wave that washed over me from head to toe.

I moved around the chest, took a deep breath, and opened the lid.

A wave of mountain air poured from the container. It felt so real that I was surprised my hair wasn’t blowing in the breeze. Inside, on an orange velvet cloth, was the fuzzy outline of a belt. Reaching inside, I touched the object.

My HUD appeared, along with a scrawl of text.

You have found a Relic. These are one-of-a-kind items that represent the pinnacle of magical capabilities. Most relics have enhancements intended to scale to the wielder’s level. It’s entirely possible for one to remain with you for the rest of your adventuring career.

Area Limitation: Although you have shown incredible skill or luck, all relics in this zone have been selected to help starting adventurers gain strength quickly. Although they are true relics, should you reach level 60+, you will find that comparable high-quality magical items will be just as useful, if not more so.

Relic Properties: Like other magical items, Relics have a standard array of innate properties. They are:

· Invulnerable: Although relics can be destroyed, it almost always takes a deliberate action by the owner to do so.

· Mutable: Relics will shift appearance and shape in accordance to the wearer’s wishes. This may be adjusted in your HUD or with focused effort, although this may take practice to learn.

· Bonding: Once worn or used, the relic will bind to a person. From that moment on, only the bonded wielder may use the item’s special properties, although the innate ones will still apply. If a wielder drops a sword relic and someone picks it up, it still will function as a sword, even if the other properties go dormant. A person may voluntarily unbind a relic, allowing another to bond the item. Once unbound, a relic takes one week to reset. Exceptions: Be aware that some relics will not allow themselves to be unbound and will only accept a new wielder when the current one is killed.

Zack’s Belt of True Ambidexterity

Historical Context: Zack was an ambitious spellcaster who hoped to one day shapeshift into a tentacular horror and cast spells with each of his tentacles independently. This belt was just one step along that path. Keep your eyes peeled for the upgrade: Zack’s Belt of True Quadridexterity!

Details:

Wearing this belt will make you ambidextrous. Furthermore, you gain several new actions in combat based on your level. We have listed the first 3 abilities below. For a comprehensive list, see the new ‘relic’ menu. These are:

· Dual Wielding: You may wield two weapons at the same time, one in each hand. This effectively increases your attack speed by 50%. You may also wield a weapon in one hand and use One-Handed Casting with the other (although you must pay the added mana cost). If you are wielding an enchanted weapon, you must use the Dual-Spell rules for added mana costs (both effects cost 50% more mana). Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Two-Handed Wielding: If you wield a melee weapon with both hands, all numeric, variable effects related to damage are doubled. This also applies to magical effects; however, triggering an effect with a mana cost will increase the activation cost by 50%. In addition, if your weapon is capable of dealing critical damage, the multiplier is increased by 150%. Finally, if the weapon has an area-effect power, the area of effect is increased by 10% per your level. Level Requirement to Use: 10

· One-Handed Casting: You may cast a spell with one hand, regardless of complexity. The mana cost is increased by 30%. Level Requirement to Use: 3

The wall of text was as overwhelming as it was promising. “The only problem is I don’t have any spells or weapons.”

From nearby, Steward said, “I’m glad you said that. After you open the last three gear chests, we’ll move on to the final one. A proper quest. You will earn any weapons you receive there.”

I put the belt on. It snapped into place, sending a fresh pulse of pleasant cool through my body. My HUD appeared, with the “relic” tab indicating an update to customize the appearance and basic features. “And after that, I get my class?”

“Correct.”

“What about the last of my traits? I still need to get one for each attribute.”

“Hrm. You could do them now. But it’s also possible that triggering them during events, like the upcoming quest, would be more advantageous. Not that I’m giving advice, mind.”

I was hurt and healing slowly. Lacking an artifact that would grant me some sort of passive regeneration or other method of recovery, the “proper quest” was going to be very challenging, at the least.

For a moment, a brief second, a wall of doubt, fear, and even guilt threatened to surface. I remembered all the resources consumed to get me here, the risks taken on the outside chance that I could achieve something meaningful.

And here I was, in the tutorial section and had nearly died already.

Leaning against an “accessories” chest, I thought about my brother. Brian would have loved this. Living inside one of his fantasy worlds, a place where magic was real. I remembered the way he’d talk about it, the way he’d loved spending hours theorizing, as if by talking about it he could somehow make it real.

A memory, one of our last, surfaced. I’d just gotten over a bad migraine, and we were sitting on the porch. He was going on and on about how physics might work in one of his newest campaigns. Then, out of the blue, he’d asked me what I thought would happen if he and I actually went to a gaming world.

Power corrupts, I’d replied flippantly. Assuming we could use all our meta knowledge, I’m sure we’d power-level in a few days. After that, who knows? My bet is that it wouldn’t take long before we got tired of dungeons and combat. I’d probably find a nice, safe town, take it over, and live as a godking for the rest of my days.

He’d been startled at my response. You don’t mean that. Just being powerful wouldn’t make you into an asshole.

I’d smirked. You think way too highly of me. Give me high stats and a couple spells and I’ll be living the good life. No question.

The next moment was burned into my memory, a gem of perfect clarity. He’d turned to me and looked me dead in the eyes. My brother never looked people in the eyes, so it made that moment all the more powerful. You know what’s common in most of our games?

What’s that?

The bad guys. Like you said, they are everywhere. They run things. They hurt people.

Okay, and what’s your point?

We aren’t like them, Dean. If we ever had a chance, you know what we’d be?

What?

The fire to steer people home. We’d be the good guys. You would be a good guy. No matter what. I believe that about you.

I’d laughed and ruffled his hair. Fucking idealist, I’d said.

No. I just have enough faith in you for both of us, big brother.

Fighting a surge of unwelcome emotions, I forced myself to stand. “Sure. Okay. Three more to go. Let’s knock these out.”

Chapter 12: Three Chests

Steward gave me no clues for the next one. I still tried looking for another relic though. When none of the gems I tried responded to pushing, pulling, or twisting, I went ahead and opened it.

Inside was a simple chain necklace with an uncut diamond on the throat.

Necklace of Elemental Protection (Lesser): You gain a 15% resistance to all elemental damage, and your ability to resist ambient, negative elemental effects is increased by 50%.

I put it on, half expecting to fly into another rage. The cool, refreshing presence of my belt diminished slightly, maybe twenty-five percent, but otherwise nothing happened. There wasn’t even any itching.

“Good to know,” I said to myself, moving to the “feet” chest and checking to see if Steward had any suggestions.

His eyes were distant, mouth half open, as if the alpaca head was entirely distracted. Both of his liquid hands were, however, very busy.. One made a rhythmic, up-and-down tugging gesture. The other made a motion mimicking pushing something into another object. It was complicated and difficult to understand, and the hands only performed the gesture twice. On the second repetition, the tugging hand pointed at both remaining rows of chests before executing the motion.

I got it.

Maybe.

The row beyond “feet” was “wildcard.” Reasoning that “wildcard” would only introduce even more randomness that I wasn’t ready for, I went to the row and began checking the crystals. This time, I tried replicating the undulating rhythms then tugging on each.

It didn’t work, not at first, but I refused to give up. Part of it was that memory of Brian. It stuck with me, uncomfortably sharp. I just knew he’d lecture me about how important it was to be patient in tense situations. Another part was for my body to have time to heal.

SNAP!

With a loud sound, a crystal near the top of a mundane-looking chest tore free. It left a gaping, jagged hole, as if I’d damaged the wood. The gem glowed, pulsing a dull yellow color. Turning, I crossed to one of the high-magic chests that looked to be carved from a solid amethyst. As I drew closer, the gem in my hand pulsed faster and took on an orange-red color.

I put the gem against the base of the new chest, and then it slid into place with a deep THWOOOM sound. The gemstone glowed, infused by the new light. Behind me, the row of “wildcards” vanished.

Steward clapped, his pseudopod hands loud in the silence. “Well done, adventurer.”

Hands still on the lid, I looked over at him. “You know what this teaches me, right?”

“What?”

“That these tests or whatever. There’s always more to them than is obvious. Hidden rewards. Hidden dangers."

A pseudopod pushed Steward’s glasses up his narrow nose until they brushed his long eyelashes. “If that was all you took away from this room, then you received something far more precious than any relic.”

I opened the lid, revealing a pair of translucent boots. My HUD updated with their details when I picked them up.

Relic - Fanto’s Frantic Footwear of Frenetic Frenzy and Floating

Historical Context: Fanto was not a serious man, but he was a brilliant one. He custom made these boots for a party member. For additional context, the person he made them for was extremely frantic and prone to frenzies. They might even have been a cat-person. The truth is lost to time.

Details

While you wear these boots you gain a passive 20% bonus to all modes of movement, including ones that require only your hands.

In addition, since they are indestructible, they effectively mitigate most damage done to your feet. You could walk over magma in these things and only suffer indirect damage from the heat and fumes. Furthermore, you gain several new actions in combat based on your level. We have listed the first 2 abilities below. For a comprehensive list, see the new ‘relic’ menu. These are:

· Floating: You effectively hover .5 inches above the ground and no longer trigger traps or other negative events due to pressure/touch. You are still treated as being on the ground for resisting friction, normal movement, etc. Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Frantic Movement: For every 10 feet you move, you gain a 5% bonus to your speed, up to a maximum of 300%. This applies to all movement modes, including ones that only require your hands. Level Requirement to Use: 8

I put the boots on, using the HUD to transform them into standard combat attire. Similar to the belt, wearing them sent pools of constant coolness throughout my body.

“Are you ready to proceed to the final test?” Steward asked once I was finished, and all the chests were gone.

“How about we wait another couple of hours for my hit points to finish regenerating?”

His alpaca lips quirked. “No need. For this, I’m allowed to give you the full benefits of your accumulated experience points and completely restore any drained reserves. Oddly, my analytics say you should be level three. I wonder how that happened? No matter. Here.”

There was a brief, subtle glow from the guide, then someone wrapped me in an entire sheet of bubble wrap and popped it all at once. Only the bubble wrap was full of bees, and fire. The cold of my relics met the fire and stinging, not so much fighting back as balancing the effect.

I roared, but it wasn’t from the pain.

The effect ended with my hands curled, nails digging into my palms, shaking from barely restrained violence.

“Oh. Ah. Sorry about that,” Steward said, tilting his head one way then to the other, studying me. “Fascinating.”

“What’s happening? Why did that happen?”

“I have no idea. Looks like you’ve been boosted successfully though. Let’s proceed.”

I checked my HUD and saw a new status update.

BOOSTED: You have been temporarily enhanced to level 3. You have not been granted a class or any additional skills. This boost will remain for the duration of your testing quest.

Hit Points: 120

Mana: 250

Floating: By reaching level 3, you have gained access to the Floating enhancement on your boots.

One-Handed Casting: By reaching level 3, you’ve gained access to the One-Handed Casting enhancement on your belt.

Dual Wielding: By reaching level 3, you’ve gained access to the Dual Wielding enhancement on your belt.

As Steward led us from the room down a wide, worked stone corridor that hadn’t been there before, I tried to get a sense of how much I’d physically changed.

I still wasn’t settled into my System-Activated body. Having gone literally from the chair to a cave and a life-or-death combat hadn’t given me much time to do anything other than react. It made comparing how I felt now versus a few minutes ago nearly impossible.

The magical gear, on the other hand, provided dramatic and obvious benefits. With the belt pulsing at my hips, I had access to instincts that weren’t my own. They weren’t part of me, instead I imagined how a prosthesis would feel: an extension I could use at will, but not actually part of me. The floating enhancement on my boots didn’t require any focus. I didn’t even notice the lack of collision unless I thought of it. The boost to my speed, however, was obvious.

Between ramping my Grace attribute from thirty-eight to a hundred, and the relic, every motion was like being on one of those airport fast lanes.

“How fast am I now?” I asked Steward as we entered a new chamber.

“In local terms? Hrm. I’d assess you at twice the maximum speed of a standard human.”

“Holy shit.”

He laughed. I think it was my first time hearing him do so. “Yes, some enhancements are more visible than others. Grace is one of those. Now, attend me. This should be relatively easy for you to complete.”

We’d entered a domed space, the style reminiscent of one of those wrap-around planetarium style theaters. A grid of dark screens my mind registered as television monitors occupied thirty-degrees of my vision directly ahead.

The alpaca-sheep-tentacle creature that was my guide stepped ahead of me, one rippling limb gesturing for me to remain where I was. “I am ready to give my initial assessment.”

At his words, the grid of screens split apart, with a horizontal, rectangular bar segmenting it into four distinct sections. A quick bit of multiplication told me each section had fifty screens.

“This adventurer is intelligent, and capable of problem solving under stress.”

Two bars, one at the top and one just beneath lit up. Words appeared on each. They were:

Tutorial Quest List (Easy Difficulty)

Tutorial Quest List (Moderate Difficulty)

After the words appeared, the screens activated, each revealing a peaceful location. Most were outside rural-looking villages. A few were in forests or along riverbanks. None showed any signs of violence or conflict, nor were there any hints of inhabitants – either animals or people.

Steward said, “He’s not afraid to do violence, and shows no remorse when doing so. During both the mud monster challenge and against the transforming fallen he displayed the capacity for brutality.”

Two more bars lit up.

Tutorial Quest List (High Difficulty)

Tutorial Quest List (Hell Difficulty)

Before the screens for those appeared, he spoke again, quickly. “I see signs of compassion in him as well.”

The screens turned on. Instead of peaceful locations, these were all that I’d have associated with more typical gaming fare. Many were inside dungeons, much like this one. One, in the High Difficulty, was set in a swamp and revealed large, ooze-like creatures. Another looked down at a well with a giant snake lurking in it.

I reviewed them, then looked at Steward for further instructions.

“You must choose one,” he said, tone that of a person reciting from a script. “When you do, I will teleport you to that location. Once there, the System will test you. Sometimes it generates one quest. Others, more. Wherever you go, you’ll have an opportunity to earn at least one magical weapon.” He paused, took a deep breath, and then added, “How you complete the quests will expand, or limit, the classes I am allowed to offer you.”

Although he didn’t signal or gesture as he had in the chest room, my gut told me the added part wasn’t normally in the speech.

“How long do I have to pick?” I asked, studying the screens.

“As long as you need. Don’t get used to it for future quests though. The System wants as many adventurers as possible. Once you have your class, the gloves come off.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

I walked the room, searching for hidden levers, buttons, or triggers. Other than the screens, it was empty. Even the corridor we’d entered through was gone, leaving only the curvature of darkness and the slices of light projected by Steward’s arms and the possible quests.

Eventually I concluded there was nothing in the room itself. That left two options.

I looked at my guide, replaying events since I’d entered the tutorial. “This isn’t all of the options, is it?”

He looked at me, blinking without responding.

It was the only clue I needed.

I walked to the screens themselves, then reached out for one of the rectangles between the grids. When I touched it, the entire grid, including the difficulty labels, flexed. As it did, a flashing yellow-red tab appeared at the edge closest to me.

Maintaining my touch on the rectangle, I slid down the panel until I was within reach of the tab, then touched that as well.

As soon as I did, Steward sighed sadly. “Congratulations, adventurer. You’ve discovered the difficulty beyond Hell.”

The screens flashed, all replaced with a new grid beneath a single new header.

Tutorial Quest List (Void Difficulty)

“Oh no,” I said.

“Indeed. You’ve taken a road you cannot come back from. I’m afraid your chances of surviving any of these quests is astronomically low.”

Waving his warning away, I said, “No. I mean yes, I get it, but no, that’s not what I was upset about. On my world, people are always looking for some new extreme. Hell and Nightmare weren’t extreme-sounding enough. Everything’s gone all ‘Void’ now.” Shaking my head, I laughed sourly. “I can’t believe it. Does this mean the System is an edgelord? Brian would be so disappointed.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding how difficult this is about to get.”

He was probably right. Maybe the stress of the situation was finally getting to me. Taking a deep breath, I looked at the screens, wondering what I was in for.

It was worse than I possibly could have imagined.

Chapter 13: Void Difficulty Tutorial

I stepped back and looked at the big picture, seeing all the new quest locations.

“Behold, one of the System’s favorite pastimes,” Steward said.

He didn’t need to explain any further.

Each screen depicted a war. This time, the participants of the conflicts were visible, their sweat, blood, and viscera on vivid display. They came in dozens of shapes, sizes, colors, and configurations, but most of the creatures were humanoid. After several seconds of taking it all in, my stomach twisted.

“What’s the point? I mean, what sort of quest could I have there?” I pointed to two identical groups of hulking, gray-skinned creatures my HUD labeled as kahron. They appeared to be simply murdering one another using a variety of meat cleavers.

It was not pretty.

“The kahron are a race of philosophers,” Steward said. “You’re seeing a rather heartfelt debate over which is better, a cleaver with a curved handle or a straight one. I cannot tell you what quests you’d get if you went there, but it is likely that you’d need to end the debate.”

“Those guys are philosophers?” I asked.

“Philosophers of war, who settle their debates in rather…ah, shall we say, practical ways.”

On the screen, one of the kahron emerged from a pile of bloodied, twitching bodies. He was carrying a cleaver in both oversized hands. One had a curved handle, and the other was straight. He gestured wildly, mouth moving as if he were giving a speech.

Then about thirty other kahron tackled him, covering him in a pile of flesh.

“Okay, so clearly a thoughtful argument isn’t going to work with those guys.” I looked from the gruesome display to my guide. “Can you give me any idea how I could possibly overcome something that…uh…messy?”

“The System won’t give you a challenge that’s impossible to overcome,” he said. “Even I don’t know why, but it adheres to pretty strict rules regarding balance. Whatever it does to an adventurer, it gives them an equal opportunity to get stronger from. Picking Void difficulty basically was your way of asking it to fuck with you as hard as it possibly can.”

“Damn it,” I muttered.

He went on, “As for this quest, I can’t tell you what to do, but I am allowed to make an educated guess based on, well, similar, uh, debates among that species.”

His pseudopods elongated, pointing at the “discussion”. Two figures, one on either side of a muddy battlefield, pulsed with a red and blue outline. “Each group is led by a king. It is entirely possible that, with the right argument, you could sway both to come to an agreement.”

“Yeah. Okay. Diplomatic solution.”

“Then again, the System might direct you to slaughter them all.” He said it off-handedly, as if it had just occurred to him. “It really enjoys adventurers who push the envelope. Going Void might just be an excuse for it to play with you.”

Not sure how to take that last line, I turned from the massacre to another, then another. Focusing on one screen at a time, I tried to take in the true scale of the System. “Are all of these happening in real time?”

“Yes.”

Everything I found was a variation on the same theme as the first one. Groups of contending forces remorselessly slaughtering one-another.

My skin prickled as I neared the end of the row, drawing my attention to the scene of a robed figure fleeing through a dense forest. The figure had a bundle against their chest, just big enough to be a child, and was dragging a young boy behind them. He appeared human and perhaps about twelve or thirteen years old

From the screen’s perspective, I saw a pair of hairy, gorilla-like creatures rushing after them.

“This looks too simple,” I said, mouth dry as I studied the fleeing pair.

“You are wise to observe that,” Steward said, although he did not elaborate. When I glanced back, I saw moisture in his eyes. Both of his pseudopod hands were fully extended, palms in the sign I associated with ‘stop’ or maybe ‘no’.

It was a warning, as clear as any he could provide.

I looked back at the scene, seeing the fear in the boy’s eyes.

“Screw it,” I said, touching the screen. “Let’s go.”

Sandpaper raked across my senses, momentarily numbing me to all sensation other than pain. When it cleared, I was standing in the forest. In the distance, barely visible on the horizon, were the fleeing pair.

My HUD lit up as my first quest appeared. The font was different from the blocky, cramped text I’d become used to. This time it was red-orange, and a cultured voice read it into my ear. It accents were that of a malicious British man.

Void Quest: Blood Must Flow

Details: You have arrived on the frontier world of Layrael. It is a pastoral place, one with a great wellspring of magic and a rich heritage. Unlike your world, the locals have chosen to defy the System’s expansion. As you have selected a Void difficulty quest, you have two options.

First Option: Kill the fleeing woman and take her cargo. Alternatively, delay her until the fukuu arrive. Either way, you will win the prize.

Prizes: One relic-quality weapon of your choice. 50,000 System Exchange Credits. Access to the System Exchange System. 10,000 experience points.

In addition to winning the prize, you will instantly return to your guide and be granted access to the ‘Assassin’, ‘Sociopath’, and ‘Murderous’ class types.

Second Option: Help the woman survive this System Event. The System has determined that she and her cargo are high-value targets and have offered substantial rewards for her demise. Pit yourself against the System’s own hunters to show your true mettle.

Prizes: The adventurers sent to hunt her have powerful gear and are worth many experience points. Keep what you kill. You will also be granted an additional Conquest and an upgrade to the next title you earn.

By completing this quest, you will be granted access to the “BREAKER”, “Onslaught”, “Foolish”, and “Tidebreaker” class types. Be aware that choosing this option may activate subsequent quests in the Blood Must Flow line.

I’d entirely forgotten about the titles. Between those and the attribute traits, I was sitting on quite a few unrealized opportunities.

Licking my lips, I re-read the offer. The first option wasn’t just the simplest; it also offered the most overt rewards. One thing that struck me, however, was the fact that the second option’s classes sounded more interesting. I remembered what Steward had said, suggesting the System had some sort of internal limits or requirements around balance.

No doubt it meant that choosing the second option would be taking the already difficult, maxed-out quest to the next level.

What’s after Void? I wondered. Abyss, probably.

The robed person, who I could now see was a woman with a lean, hard face, was staring at me. She’d drawn the boy partially behind her, releasing his hand to draw a curved glass dagger from her waist. A double glow of green and purple circled through the tip.

I looked from the woman to the boy. He flinched away from my gaze, clearly afraid to meet my eyes.

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling as the decision practically made itself. “Guess I’m just not made for easy. I’ll take the second option.”

The System voice purred in my ear. Choice accepted. Remain defiant until you fall.

“Hey!” I called, lifting my hand. “I’m here to help.”

Continuing to slowly close the distance, the woman looked me over. It took me far too long to realize how I must appear. Shirtless, with a belt, tattered pants, and a pair of boots. I was still absolutely covered in copious amounts of my blood and the ichor of the fallen monster I’d slain.

Now that I thought about it, I felt sort of…crusty.

“You’ve slain one of their fallen?” the woman called, then stopped as the boy at her side spoke.

“Aderle, look! He’s wearing the ancient magic. He’s not one of them.”

It took me a second to realize the kid was pointing at my belt and shoes. I didn’t have time to process the implications of the boy’s statement as a pair of flashing, bright-furred shapes came into view.

Now that I was inside the quest, I saw the monsters in crisp, horrific detail. The fukuu were smaller than I’d first thought, barely four feet in length, but had thickly muscled arms. Covered in bright, multi-colored fur, they had flat faces with large, lidless black eyes.

“Damn it,” I growled beneath my breath. “They look like a Furby fucked a gorilla.” Shaking my head, I moved at an angle past the woman. “Keep going. I’ll deal with them.”

She hesitated, then looked at the package in her arms. The cloth covering it had slid down far enough to reveal a watermelon-sized egg covered in two-toned scales. I heard her mutter, “We cannot let it corrupt another.” Then she raised her voice as she tossed the glass dagger to me. “Here. I have a spare.”

I caught the weapon easily, the hilt settling into my hand as my HUD updated with a new message.

There was no time to read.

“FUUUUKUUUUUU!” The first creature, a bright blue animal my HUD labeled ‘Blue Fukuu One’, barreled between two trees, its mouth wide enough to reveal corkscrew, yellow teeth.

I’d never trained with a dagger or any weapon other than my bare hands but it didn’t take rocket science to know where the pointy end went. Darting to the side, I slammed the glowing tip of the dagger into the thing’s cheek.

Bright blood spurted as a lance of cold sizzled through my palm and half the creature’s head evaporated. It howled, managing to rake my arm with one claw even as I yanked the blade free and planted it again, then again.

A warning rustle was all I had before the second creature appeared, teleporting mid-leap to attack me. I turned, too slow to intercept the thing, and it slammed all four limbs into my chest and shoulders. Yowling, “Fuuukuuuu!” into my face, it drove two of its teeth into my forehead, rancid breath making me gag.

Blood gushed down my face and blinded me as I screamed in rage. Grabbing a handful of fur, I yanked as, with the other hand, I jammed the glass knife into the monster’s ribs. No magic triggered this time, but the damage was enough to get the thing to let me go.

It fell, landing deftly on all fours just a few feet away, its muzzle covered in my blood.

I saw red, both literally and figuratively. The anger was back with a vengeance.

This time it had an outlet.

The fukuu reared on its hind legs and beat its chest with its forelimbs as it screeched its name at me. “Fuuuukuuuu!”

Yeah, it definitely sounded like, “Fuck you.”

Whatever it saw on my face gave it pause. In that moment of hesitation, I went on the offensive.

Using the ambidexterity granted by my belt to its fullest advantage, I blocked a swing with one hand and drove the dagger into the creature’s upper chest. There was no precision in the attack.

That was okay. I more than made up for it with raw force.

With a whimper of fear that only made my rage hotter, the beast fell away from my blade. It struck the ground hard, rebounding as it spasmed in its death throes. A small, pentagonal artifact made of stone bounced free. It was covered in glowing symbols, including three deep grooves across the front. One pulsed a shade of green that made my eyes ache to look at.

Panting, I looked down at the body, surprised to see not one or two slashes but half a dozen, as if I’d struck it many times.

The blade remained dormant, suggesting no magic had triggered to make the extra injuries.

“It is good that you smile when you kill them,” the woman called.

I looked up, hand tightening around the hilt of the knife. As I did, there was a sense of liquid motion inside my chest. It traveled down my arm, entering the weapon. The two-tone color at the tip burst alight, glowing brightly.

My HUD flickered but did not fully manifest. Instead, the quest voice read the text into my ear. It sounded positively demonic. “Override Engine has restored the mana in your dagger. Discharge it again at your leisure.”

Between Aderle’s address and the System’s announcement, my thoughts somewhat cleared. I looked around, scanning for more monsters.

“More will come,” she said. “The System has sent adventurers. The one who summoned those beasts won’t be far behind, and they’ve got an air vessel with them. We can’t outmaneuver it, not with their teleportation devices.”

“Teleportation devices?” I croaked, my throat feeling raw.

She toed the dropped artifact, pushing it towards me.

I bent down, picking the thing up. It made my fingers tingle as I looked it over. My HUD flickered and I concentrated on it, accepting the message.

System Exchange Artifact – Short Range Jumper (1 out of 3 Charges Remaining)

Description: Jumpers allow teleportation to any other networked device within the range. This version includes an attachment function, allowing you to stick them to a surface (like fur) for easier conveyance.

Range: 300 feet

Use: Hold the device. Your HUD will dynamically reveal the location of connected devices.

Resale Value: 500 exchange credits (ECs) per remaining charge.

“Useful,” I murmured thoughtfully, sticking the device to my belt. I held it there for a second, until I felt a gentle tug and the now-familiar bite of magic adhering in its place. Once it did, I looked in the direction she’d come from.

“Why don’t you and the kid keep going? I want…” Pausing, I licked my lips, tasting my own blood. “I want to see if I can slow them down.”

Aderle made a tight, barking laugh as she studied my face. “I see your eyes. See you reading. You’re one of them, aren’t you? You belong to the System. This must be some sort of sick joke. Why are you acting like you want to help us?”

I turned to her, looking from her to the scared kid. There were two true answers here. I gave her the one that felt the most honest.

“Because I need more.”

“More what?”

Sliding my thumb across the dagger’s smooth, yet grippy hilt, I pointed it at the corpses. “More of that.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You truly are one of them, aren’t you? You’re defending us because it’s more fun for you?”

“I’m not your enemy,” was all I dared to say without giving away who I really was, or what my planet had discovered. Flicking my gaze to my HUD, I found the tab for traits.

Traits Available: Strength, Endurance, Grace, Focus, Mind, and Perception.

Remembering what Steward had hinted about staggering their activation, I picked Strength. As the potential rewards rolled, I moved to the second corpse. It also had a Jumper, this one with two charges. I pressed it onto the belt on the opposite side of the other. It took just a second to adhere.

The trait roll came up Burst of Strength (Moderate), but the parasite injection overruled it, giving me four other options. One option was a small, but permanent boost to strength, and the other three were all situational. Workhorse gave me a 300% boost to carrying things, which made no sense given the presence of inventory management bags. I picked decisively, feeling that Destructive would likely provide the most all-around benefits as it provided me with a 35% boost when dealing with inorganic material.

Once I’d made my selection, I pointed. “They came from that direction, right?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.” Fresh blood drying on my head and hands, I began to hunt.

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Two Summoned Fukuu

Victor: Dean

Losses: 10 hit points

Awards: 400 experience points; dropped loot.

***

Trait Selection – Strength

Starter Strength Traits

Unlike Attunement, which provides overall power to an adventurer, Strength is straightforward.

Warning: Traits that require mana to activate, or use mana to function, will not work in low or no-mana zones.

Explosive Strength: Your Strength attribute is considered 50% higher when dealing explosive damage. Limitation: Only some weapons or attacks deal this type of damage.

Destructive: Your Strength attribute is considered 35% higher when dealing damage to inorganic material.

Augmented (High): You gain an additional 15% enhancement bonus to the overall effectiveness of your Strength attribute. This specifically factors into abilities and gear that rely on a high Strength score to determine their output. It does not calculate into your passive, everyday working capacity. Example: A weapon that deals bonus damage based on your Strength score would deal 15% more damage. Your standard grip strength, however, would not be similarly augmented.

Workhorse: Your Strength is considered 300% higher when determining carrying capacity and workload.

Chapter 14: The Summanati

It didn’t take long for me, even with no skill in tracking, to see the trail the fukuu left. They’d torn through the underbrush with wild, reckless abandon. I hurried, moving as fast as I could, eager for another confrontation.

An analytical part of my mind, using flashes of greenery as a metric, compared how fast I was now to before the System integration. It wasn’t even close. Not only did I cross over seven feet with every stride, but I also felt no exhaustion.

I could run at this pace all day long and not feel winded.

KA-FWOOOOOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM!

Explosions sounded from my right, directly ahead of my course an instant before mushroom clouds of debris filled the sky. The ground beneath my feet shook, thrumming like an earthquake.

Only the floating enhancement on my boots kept me from falling as the forest around me churned. Leaves and branches fell, and multiple cracks sounded as entire trees gave way to the pummeling.

Not thirty feet away, I heard multiple squeals of pain. Slightly further away, maybe fifty feet, I heard two people cursing loudly.

My HUD lit up.

Language Detected: Summanati

Translation: Active.

With the blasts still ringing in the air to cover my steps, I closed the distance to the speakers. When I’d gotten close enough to make out two robed figures, both on their backs inside a circle of fukuu corpses and shattered trees, I dove behind fallen foliage.

I held my breath, waiting for sounds to indicate that either had heard me approach.

“They were meant to wait until we’d completed our objective.” A figure my HUD labeled Priest Thattor, said as he climbed to his feet. “What were they thinking?”

The second figure, this one called Acolyte Petonin, replied, “Admiral Grellan did not earn the title ‘Harvester’ by being patient.”

Clearly undetected, I peeked through the foliage. Besides the robed men and the corpses of the fukuu, one remained alive. It was nearly twice the size than the previous ones, with thick bands of muscle across the back of its neck and much larger hands. Bloodied and dazed, it dragged itself behind the men, who appeared unphased by the fukuu’s presence or the loss of so many others.

The Summanati resembled tall, thin creatures with warty green skin and porcine faces. Thattor’s robes were black, with intricate patterns across the seams. The acolyte’s were plain brown.

Using a three-fingered hand, Thattor brushed himself off as he looked around. “If he’s using the munitions stockpile to take the walls down, we know he’s become impatient.”

As the two spoke, my HUD updated with another System message.

Warning: You are at cross-purposes with these adventurers.

The bottom of the text had a thin green outline, suggesting more text was available. I focused on the anomaly and the British man’s voice spoke to me. He sounded pleased.

Ah, you are perceptive, aren’t you? You’ve gained access to supplementary information about the Summanati.

Details: The Summanati are a species who have, over hundreds of generations within System rule, specialized in a single class type: Summoners. Their people are fanatics who will not hesitate to sacrifice their lives to further whatever quest the System assigns them. Expect their members to have high levels of mana, sophisticated equipment, and relatively low hit points. Be aware: while their members are not capable fighters in and of themselves, the beings they summon more than make up for this vulnerability.

That explained the fukuu.

Petonin took in the scene, mouth twisting. “Should we summon more scouts?”

“No. We’ve accomplished what we wanted. We know they are in the area. My mana is depleted. How’s yours?”

“Over half.” The acolyte waved at the fukuu at his back. “The brute cost me over a hundred to summon. He’s injured and slow. Should I dismiss him and bring out a hunting pack?”

The Priest pondered. “I see no reason not to. We’ve seen no meaningful opposition on this world. Yes. Dismiss him, then bring the hunters. We can equip a couple with my remaining Jumpers. They should make quick work of our targets.”

“With pleasure.” With a finger wiggle and a muttered word, the acolyte caused the hulking fukuu to vanish in a wave of mist. He stretched his arms apart, fingers splaying. “I will attempt six and hope for a good roll. The System has favored me of late.”

“In that case, I offer you my augmentor.” The priest slid a long, serrated flensing knife from a voluminous sleeve and offered it Petonin.

Looking at the knife made my eyes itch.

Petonin accepted the weapon with an air of reverence. “I’ve never held one this potent before. May I have the System details, please?”

“Five hit points sacrificed will add ten to your next summons’ health and physical attributes. If you conjure a pack, it will grant the full benefit to one, and a descending enhancement to each subsequent member. Sacrifice thirty and even the least member of the pack will equal your brute and be much faster. They will overtake the pair with ease.”

The brown-robed creature’s face lit up as he hastily sliced the inside of a scaled forearm. Syrupy blood poured into the blade, which began to glow with a ruddy green-brown corona. “I shall direct them to pull the boy down first. It will be the price the woman pays for her defiance.”

As the magic in the blade grew, the unpleasant itching flowed from my eyes to my entire face, almost like the magic was a fire scalding my flesh. Fingers working on the hilt of my dagger, I eased to the side, creeping around the pair until I was behind the two.

Thattor, watching the process, said, “That is an excellent plan…”

I burst from behind the foliage, charging at their backs.

The thirty-feet distance evaporated as, utterly soundless, I rushed my prey. I drove the dagger into Petonin’s back, close to the neck. The weapon’s magic triggered, draining its mana completely to add to the damage of my assault.

With my other arm extended, I bowled Thattor over.

All three of us went down as the two raised cries of alarm. My momentum carried me further than either of my would-be victims, and only my newly enhanced Strength allowed me to keep a grip on my dagger.

I came to a stop and rose to my feet.

Petonin lay on the ground, mouth working. His back was a mess of blood and viscera around a fist-sized hole. The augmentor had fallen from his grasp, landing several feet away from the stunned man. Next to him, Thattor was already climbing to his feet. He’d retrieved a Jumper from within his robes, his eyes flicking up to what I assumed was a System menu.

Dreading what would happen if the man escaped, I threw my knife. It flipped, wobbling so wildly I was certain it would miss. Then the handle struck his forearm, several inches off the mark, yet with enough force to accomplish my goal.

The Jumper fell as Thattor cried in surprise and leaped for the device.

I flung myself at him, ambidexterity allowing me to do what would have been impossible mere hours ago. With one hand, I grabbed the Jumper. The other snatched at the hilt of my dagger.

“Petonin! Your Jumper! Give it to me.” Thattor scrambled away, arm extended, for his companion who continued to lay there, bleeding but alive.

The acolyte’s black eyes widened as he struggled to get his arm beneath him, fumbling at his robe.

Tossing the priest’s Jumper away to free a hand, I grabbed Thattor’s leg and pulled myself up his torso. Driving the dagger into the spellcaster’s back, I used the leverage to yank myself further up his body, until I could reach over his shoulder and wrap my hand around Thattor's wrist.

The priest wasn’t strong. His bones grated beneath my grip as he met my eyes. “Adventurer?” he asked, sounding shocked as I drew him closer, keeping him from getting to his objective.

With a wrenching, twisting motion, I yanked the dagger through Thattor’s upper-back area. The priest howled in pain, scrambling and kicking beneath me. He fumbled at another pocket, withdrawing a dagger of his own.

Shaped into a shark's tooth, with a narrow, serrated blade, I did not think this one was for spellcasting.

He yanked his arm backwards. It was an awkward angle, and I’d already cut him up pretty well, but he still had plenty of hit points and ability.

The short blade dug into my thigh and a magical effect triggered. Cold and sickness gripped my stomach. Weakness poured into my muscles as I heaved. Bile rushed to the back of my throat as I fought the urge to vomit.

“Screw it,” I growled, clenching my stomach and leaning into the sensation.

Everything I’d eaten that day poured onto Thattor’s face. The man made a gagging sound as he withdrew his blade, preparing to make another stab. I released my dagger, fumbling for the priest's hand where it held the sickening blade. Reaching it, I wrapped my grip around his, forcefully.

Even weakened, I was stronger than both Summanati. Not that the acolyte was struggling very much. Between the explosion, the earthquake and my initial attack, he had little fight in him.

“You have no idea what enemies you make today,” Thattor wheezed, arm vibrating with effort.

Leaning closer to his face, until bile from my lunch leaked into his eyes, I growled, “How’s the gas station hot dog, asshole?”

The non-sequitur caught him off guard. For a breath, his resistance relaxed, allowing me to get his hand where I wanted it.

I used Thattor’s hand to drive the dagger he still wielded into Petonin’s bloodied arm. Magic pulsed, making my fingers tingle as the acolyte’s body shriveled.

Then he went still.

“Ahhh!” The priest screamed as I wrenched his arm around, pressing his own dagger to his throat. Now that I had a free hand, I secured the glass knife from where I’d left it impaled in his back. Rolling him over, I straddled his torso, putting my full weight on his chest as I shoved the glass knife against his chest.

“I want answers. What’s going on here?”

He laughed in my face. “System Events are holy, you blasphemer. Torture me if you want. When the Event ends and I return home, the clerics will restore my body. When they do, I will tell them…”

Gluck.

Thattor’s expression went from outrage to disbelief, just before the light faded from his eyes.

Withdrawing the knife from the man’s chest, I stood over the two corpses, waiting to make sure no other threats popped up. My HUD appeared, splashing a combat summary into the periphery of my vision. After I’d finished reading it, the voice returned, reading along with a paragraph of new System text.

You’ve shown an intriguing combination of luck and timing. By defeating this pair, you’ve guaranteed that the woman and her cargo will survive this event. However, the System would like to make you an offer. Do you wish to up the ante? Perhaps see if your luck will hold?

“Up the ante?” I asked, coming to my feet. I moved over, collecting the Jumper I’d tossed away. It was far more ornate than the ones I’d taken from the fukuu and had five bright stripes. My HUD populated with more information as the voice responded.

If you accept a follow-up quest, you will earn an extremely rare, and useful, Perception trait.

I thought about that, wondering whether the offer was worth it. Did the parasite overrides already guarantee me access to the best traits? An instinct told me that was not the case. Override Engine had been on the list specifically because I’d interacted with a dragon. Based on what I’d been told, I had to assume there were probably thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of limited or situational traits.

The hack gave me four good options rather than one, but they weren’t guaranteed to be the best of the best.

“What quest?” I asked.

Admiral Grellan brought his primary attack vessel to destroy the city of Lalatos. Use any means necessary to stop him.

Reward: Accept the quest and you will receive the Adversary Analysis as your starting Perception trait. As before, you will be allowed to keep what you kill.

I frowned, looking over at the corpses of the summoners. The System was right. I had gotten lucky. A quick check showed that I was still under a Weakness status effect, which reduced my effective strength by 10%. It was due to run out in five minutes. I was also down twenty-eight hit points. It wasn’t a lot compared to my total hit points, but I’d already seen how quickly that number could drop.

Licking my lips, I hesitated. There was doing what was right, and then there was stupidity. If I’d been a couple seconds slower, the Summanati would have conjured their hunters. From what I’d overheard and observed, those would have been far too strong for me to defeat.

I shouldn’t accept. The System was baiting me, trying to lure me into an even more dangerous situation to entertain it further.

Ka-BOOM!

Another, smaller blast arose from the distance. A stray breeze came from that direction and with it came the wailing cacophony of screaming people.

Heart pounding in my ears, one hand burning from holding the stolen dagger, I hung my head. “What does the trait do?”

Adversary Analysis: Considered one of the rarest, and most dangerous traits in System space, this trait has two functions.

· When you touch another adventurer, you have a 30% chance to learn: their most recent quest, their class, their approximate level, and whether they have any storage or inventory-based abilities. If you touch an adventurer you’ve defeated, this ability always succeeds (100% chance). Against defeated foes, you can also instantly view and identify their equipped inventory, including all magical properties of their equipment.

· If you defeat an enemy with a storage power, their extra-spatial inventory will linger for 1 hour before it disperses naturally. While it remains, you may attempt to access the space. If you choose to do so, there is a 5% chance you will gain access to the complete inventory list and may claim any one item from the storage space. The chance to trigger increases by 1% per the wielder’s level, up to a maximum of 65%. You may make this attempt only once. If it fails, the lingering inventory vanishes instantly. Note: This ability alone makes this trait one of the most coveted and feared in System space.

Limitations: This trait will not function in areas with low or no mana. Some enemies or magical items may perceive the presence of this ability.

“Shit.” If the screaming hadn’t made the decision for me, seeing the potential long-term value in such a trait did. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s go.”

The voice sounded positively triumphant as it read the next words.

You have accepted the quest to stop Admiral Grellan and earned Adversary Analysis as your starting Perception trait. It will only activate upon command, unless otherwise specified in your Preferences menu.

Regarding the Admiral: You should hurry. The city is unlikely to last much longer.

I walked to the corpses, touching each. Their inventory list wasn’t long but contained the very objects I’d been hoping to find.

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Two Summanati

Victor: Dean

Enemies: Level 10 Summanati priest; level 6 Summanati acolyte

Losses: 28 hit points

Awards: 1,600 experience points; Punching Dagger of Sickening Weakness; dropped loot.

***

New Items Acquired: Inventory Management Pouch X 2

Overview: These objects appear to be simple plain leather pouches. Normally, access would be restricted to an owner or the merchant selling them. As part of conquest, you have gained access to the spoils of both.

Details: Inventory Management Pouches (IMPs) provide up to 10 cubic feet of storage, which may be organized and accessed through your HUD.

New Item Acquired: Punching Dagger of Sickening Weakness

Details: This weapon has a 25% chance to Sicken anyone it wounds, and an 85% chance to inflict a 10% penalty to the Strength attribute. Once either of these effects take hold, subsequent damage increases the condition's potency by 5%.

Duration: 5 minutes from the last application.

New Items Acquired: Long Range Jumper (5 out of 5 Charges Remaining) X 2

Details: This Jumper functions similar to the Short-Range variant, only with a longer range.

Range: Sight.

Re-Sell Value: 900 Exchange Credits (ECs) per remaining charge.

New Items Acquired: Augmentor Ceremonial Dagger – Summoning Focus

Details: This fragile ceremonial dagger drains 5 hit points per second from a wounded target. If wielded in combat, it includes both a Wounding and a Vitality Strike enhancement.

Fragile: Fragile weapons break easily if used in combat.

Wounding: Wounded targets suffer 5 points of additional damage every second until either restored with a healing effect or they use their HUD and spend 5 mana to end the effect.

Vital Strike: This dagger has an 80% chance to deal 250% critical damage.

Augmentor Ability (Maximum Sacrifice – 50 hit points): The blade may be used in tandem with a summoning spell. If it is, for every 5 hit points sacrificed by the spellcaster or from a victim, the next summoned creature receives +10 hit points and a +10 bonus to their primary attributes. For group summons, such as a pack of hunters, the first creature gets the maximum benefit and each subsequent creature gains one step less. The maximum amount of hit points that may be drained to this blade is 50 hit points’ worth.

Resale Value: 18,000 Exchange Credits (ECs).

Note: This highly potent magical item contains various identifying features that label it as belonging to the Summanati.

Additional Loot

· 5,700 Exchange Credits

· Short Range Jumper (3 charges each) X 5

· Jumper Access Token X 1 (looted from Thattor)

· Survival Scroll X 2

***

Both Summanati had the same quest. It is as follows:

Quest: Pacify the Lalatos

Details: The world of Layrael has resisted the Expansion Monitor assigned with bringing it under control. Their cultural center is the city of Lalatos. By destroying it and capturing a specific, high-value relic, the Monitor believes that the locals will suffer such a blow to their morale that they will accept System implementation without further conflict. He has spent sufficient credits to authorize direct intervention, by way of quests.

The guild manager of Summanati guild S305A has directed the offered quests to Priest Thattor, Acolyte Petonin, and Admiral Grellan.

Thattor and Petonin have the following objective: locate and retrieve a high-value relic currently possessed by the resisting locals. The approximate area has been marked on your HUD, although you will be expected to work to find its precise location.

Be aware that Admiral Grellan has been tasked with pacifying the city while you work. In addition, it has been determined that the guardian of the target item is dangerous. Liberal use of fukuu is advised.

Rewards (for each participant): Upgrade any two items of your choice. 50,000 System Exchange Credits. 10,000 experience points. Limit: Only one item may be made into a relic due to this quest.

Chapter 15: Pacification

After a couple seconds of interaction with my HUD, I found the controls that let me add secure carrying clips to my belt. They appeared as metal clips reinforced with magical symbols. Touching the looted pouches to the clips activated the holsters, fixing them into place so securely even firm tugs didn’t make the looted gear budge.

Once I had that sorted, I fiddled with figuring out how to use them. Holding a Jumper near the bag brought up a HUD option.

Auto-Store Items (Proximity Trigger)? (Enable/Disable)

Storage Delay? (In Seconds)

I enabled auto-storage and set the delay for two seconds. The Jumper misted out of my hand. The inventory list for “IMP1” updated in my HUD.

The discovery process only took a few seconds, but I felt each acutely as the process made the skin around the pouches warm uncomfortably. Leaving one of the long-range jumpers attached to my hip, I made my way towards the sounds of battle.

My new boots again came in handy, making navigating the fallen underbrush far easier as they elevated me slightly above the nooks and crannies that might have slowed me down.

It took just a few seconds to exit the forest, where I emerged on a rolling hill overlooking a wide, grassy valley. The sun, directly above, glinted off a wide river choked with corpses. It revealed a tableau that, at last, told me why this was a ‘Void’ quest.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, taking everything in.

A wooden-walled city, maybe a half mile across, sat next to the waterway. It looked like someone had dropped a small tactical nuke on a section of wall, leveling everything in a three-hundred-foot radius. Giant fissures spread for hundreds of feet from the point of impact, ruddy red and black light emanating from pulsating gashes. Creatures made of purple-black shadow writhed within those openings. They climbed toward the surface but halted at the top, claw-tipped hands reaching for one more handhold, straining against an unseen force.

Hovering above the city’s walls was the Admiral’s attack vessel.

Three hundred feet long and tube-shaped, it had no wings nor other obvious source of propulsion. Giant mystic symbols covered its length, all glowing with such intense energy that it made my head ache to look at them from miles away.

A pair of doors opened beneath the rear of the Admiral’s ship, outside of the burned gates and cracked earth. Following their trajectory, I saw several dozen fukuu of various shapes and sizes milling about in its shadow. As I watched, more of the creatures leaped from the open doors, landing amidst the others.

They took the fall in rolling tumbles, apparently uninjured despite the distance.

Motion from the broken gates drew my attention to still more fukuu, dragging corpses behind them. When they neared the fissures, they paused, holding the corpses near the shadows. When the stretching, otherworldly creatures touched the corpses, the bodies began to jerk and dance, as if on the brink of reanimation.

The fukuu dragged the newly possessed bodies rapidly along to beneath the airship, where ropes tipped with gleaming metal hooks descended from the underbelly. The fukuu attached the hooks to the writhing corpses, which were drawn upward, vanishing into smaller access ports.

Cries rose from the city as I took it all in, trying to process what I saw. Something didn’t add up.

The pair of Summanati I’d defeated had each been given a quest to collect a local relic. According to the quest text provided by Adversary Analysis, this Admiral should be one person.

But how could one person command an entire army like this? More importantly, how could I stop him?

“Think,” I said out loud, grounding myself with the sound of my voice. “The System wouldn’t have given me this quest if there wasn’t a way for me to win. But how?”

Flicking my eyes to my HUD, I looked through the menus, hunting for explanations or hidden settings that might help me overcome the situation. Nothing presented itself. The expanded definitions and information I received from direct interactions were quiet, unable to provide me with proactive assistance.

While I was assessing, the horde of fukuu seemed to have reached critical mass. They broke from under the blimp, leaping across the crevices and rushing through the remains of the gates.

Fresh sounds of havoc carried over the wind, as if propelled by the cruel System to mock my choice to stand in its path.

Shoving down a wave of mixed disgust and guilt, I looked through my inventory list, hoping anything I’d looted would be of use. On impulse, lacking other alternatives, I took a long-range jumper out.

When I turned my attention to the Admiral’s ship, there was a moment of pause before the next message popped up.

Access Token – Detected. Crew Access Permitted.

A dot lit up on the airship. It was labeled, “Crew Arrival Platform.” Several other locations brightened and pulsed as well, but those were labeled, “Level Restricted – Access Denied.”

No sooner had the ‘Access Denied’ messages popped up than green text floated above them.

Override Initiated…

Potential True Level Applied; Override Successful

Five new areas appeared as Jump targets. They were: “Helm”, “Munitions”, “Daemonic Reliquary”, “Crew Cabins”, and “Storage Bay.”

I started to say something, to ask what a “Daemonic Reliquary” was, when my eyes slid across that portion of the ship. Now that I knew what was there, I felt something. It was a distinct, burning sensation echoing the one I’d had prior to assembling the chests and earning my boots.

“Let me guess. If I want my weapon, that’s where I need to go.”

There was no reply, nor was there any easy way to make the decision of what to do next.

I could jump into the city to help the civilians, but I had no illusions of what would happen then. The fukuu would eventually overwhelm me. Each of the other targets was equally uncertain.

Helm would probably be where the Admiral was. Assuming he was the one in charge of the entire offensive, it just made sense. If he was able to do all of this, my guess was his level was off the charts. Just basic math told me he’d squash me into a paste, no matter how specialized his abilities were or how impressive my "true level" was.

Crew Cabins was a toss-up. Either I was right, and only the Admiral and the other two Summanati were here, or there were allowances for things like hired help. If that was the case, I could Jump into rooms full of dangerous mercenaries.

Storage Bay seemed to be the safest option, followed by Munitions. Although, if there were fukuu on board protecting sensitive locations, I had to guess they’d be in both the munitions and reliquary areas.

I hesitated at making the obvious, safe choice. Assuming everything worked the way I hoped, would going to the Storage Bay make the most sense? What if the Admiral had some way to sense my approach, or what if navigating my way out of a giant cargo hold took precious time that could be better spent with a more direct assault?

A blast echoed from the city as a fireball rose between two buildings. Fresh screams arrived, urging me on, forcing me to wonder how many lives would be lost if I failed to act decisively.

No memories of my brother surfaced to provide moral clarity. When it came to defending the fleeing woman and boy, there really hadn’t been a choice. In fact, now that I thought about it, this might be the very first decision I was completely making on my own since entering the trials.

That I was going to do something was a foregone conclusion. How I was going to do it, and the degree of risk I was willing to take, however, was all mine.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to feel the right answer. It came almost instantly, and with the razor sharp clarity that I was hoping for. Ambition had earned me the belt and boots. Why would I turn my back on it now?

“Time to toss the dice,” I said. The glass dagger swirled with magic in one hand, and the punching blade I’d stolen fit solidly in the other. I looked at the HUD and saw the trigger for activating the long-range jumper on my hip there. Pleased that I didn’t have to touch it with my hand to activate the device, I targeted the Daemonic Reliquary and activated it.

Chapter 16: Daemonic Reliquary

I appeared in a dark, humid space that seemed to breathe around me. The chamber, roughly the size of a bedroom, was carved not from stone but what appeared to be compressed carbon—like coal that had been polished to an unnatural sheen. Lighting came solely from pulsing crimson veins that threaded through the walls, throbbing with slow, deliberate rhythm as if the room itself had a heartbeat.

The Jump target I’d appeared on was a round platform six feet across and seven feet tall. It led to a narrow corridor backlit by smokey amber light.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way off the platform. Floating took away my ability to feel the texture of what I was standing on, but ripples in the black material suggested it would be grippy if I’d been walking directly atop it.

The corridor was short, ending in a T-intersection. An itch rose from my right and a fiery pull came from my left. I followed the pull.

A few feet into my progress, I felt a gust of frigid air. It came again a moment later, as if the tunnel were breathing. With each step I took after that, I had the unnerving sense of being watched, of a great lidless eye tracking my progress.

The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stirred, reminding me of being near the dragon that had started me down this path. Only this was all-encompassing, less like I was standing before a timeless, magical predator and more as if I was inside one.

As I progressed, it occurred to me more than once that I’d gone from the ‘tutorial’ area of the System to the high level ones by accident.

The tunnel ended at a catwalk overlooking some sort of foundry or forge, one that made my stomach churn the more I took it in. A red-orange glow illuminated the entire room, revealing grotesque details in layers. First, I noted the structure of the room. The catwalk where I stood was thirty feet above a floor entirely covered in bubbling material that looked to be red-orange magma.

Next to my exit was an overlook, with a platform supporting a magical control panel of some sort. A second tunnel stretched from behind the overlook.

On the far side of the room was some sort of chute through which twitching corpses slid into view. They toppled unceremoniously to the magma-adjacent liquid, where they vanished without so much as a splash.

Examining the floor more closely, I spotted a dark bar of material protruding from the substance near the rear of the room. Intricate runes, indecipherable from this distance, wrapped around the bar. I noticed that as each demon-possessed corpse joined the magma, one of the symbols on the bar faded.

Above the bar, dominating the entire rear of the room, loomed what must have been the daemon.

It was composed of only tarry skin and red bones, a cadaverous monster defying easy description. Its vaguely humanoid torso had ribs split open to reveal a gigantic, throbbing heart positioned directly above the rune-covered bar. Same as its owner, the heart wasn't normal—misshapen, with bulbous protrusions and distended masses clinging to seemingly-mundane tissue.

Thick chains, ones that added to my persistent headache, extended from the ceiling to bind the corpse in place. Several lengths looped around the monster’s spinal column, supporting the weight of a massive, horned head. The horns wreathed its skull in a sort of crown, stunning and grotesque.

Conflicting sensations pressed in on me. My head pounded as if it would explode, yet the daemon produced a balancing effect, freezing the anguish in place. I was on the precipice, on the border between two great forces and about to be crushed between them.

“Talk about the wrong turn,” I muttered, searching for signs of immediate danger, other than the hundred-foot-tall nightmarish corpse. Seeing none, I quietly made my way to the nearby panel.

It was a circular protrusion extending organically from the floor, a variety of mystical symbols glowed on the surface, as indecipherable as the scene before me.

My HUD did something strange. It flickered in and out of view, bits and pieces seeming to glitch as green, black, and red-orange text all appeared, vanished, then reappeared.

After several seconds, it stabilized.

Language Translation…Complete

Assimilation of Zetoliath – 65% Complete

Estimated Time to Conversion: 265,751 standard years

Mirrored Conversion of Relic Stock: 49.99% Complete

Estimated Time to Equilibrium: 1-3 minutes

Directives: Once in equilibrium, the relic will be vulnerable and may be bonded to the System. To do so requires a sacrifice. The Soul Bond effect has been implemented. Touch the stock to any System-Activated adventurer to re-sanctify it. The relic will lose a measure of power but will become immeasurably useful against the frontier worlds.

Before I had a chance to process any of that, I heard footsteps from behind me. They were fast and heavy, with an unmistakably lethal cadence. I spun in time to see a doorway behind the overlook had opened, disgorging a behemoth.

Clearly someone had smashed an armadillo, rhinoceros, and cave troll together in a single, humanoid package. It had the build of two linebackers smashed together, then covered in organic armor plates. A pinched face nestled within a gray ring of leathery hide, snarled at me as it closed the distance.

My HUD helpfully named the creature: Markosum, Elite Personal Bodyguard.

I glanced to the side, considering running, but Markosum was too fast. He’d closed half the distance in the time it had taken me to turn around. I tried using my Jumper, only to receive a new message.

Teleportation effects are disabled in non-designated zones.

That was all the time I had before he was on me.

Markosum wielded no weapons, but his seven-fingered hands were covered in strips of the same protective hide that also covered the rest of him. He reached for me at the end of his charge, and I met his hand with both daggers, side-by-side.

Pting!

The glass dagger deflected off the man’s hand, but the punching dagger found a thin strip of meat between the armor. It dug deep, assisted by Markosum’s momentum. He didn’t even blink, despite the Weakness effect activating to sap a portion of his Strength.

Pushing past my double-armed attack as if I were nothing more than a child, he slapped me across the face.

It was like being hit by an anvil. The armored bits tore my skin, ripping flesh and my skull cracked. Falling backwards, the hit momentarily scrambled my brains, turning everything into an unfocused haze.

I slid to the ground, face even with Markosum’s thighs. His momentum carried him forward, and he pinned me against the podium, grabbing my shoulders and holding me in place. Looking at my face, I saw a glint of pleasure in his eyes as he casually bent both knees, grinding the armored caps against my upper chest. Bones creaked, on the verge of shattering.

The fight was over.

Done in an instant.

All my hubris, all my ambition, had come to this. I’d pushed my luck, using stealth and surprise to overcome high level opponents not once, but multiple times.

My luck had run out.

I blinked, only one eye working, as I heard a surprised grunt above me, then felt the pressure against my torso ease.

At first, I thought someone had come to my rescue. Maybe the chained creature had…done something?

That wasn’t it.

Although I’d fallen, both of my hands had tightened around the dagger handles. I felt my arms, wrapped around the man’s thighs, moving with frenzied speed. The sensation of striking bare flesh, the unguarded tendons and meat at the backs of the man’s knees, sent waves of satisfaction through my cloudy mind.

While I’d been dazed, the rage had come.

It still had me in its grip, leaving no room for doubt, or sympathy, or pain.

I roared, a caged beast, driving the punching dagger as deeply as it would go, then wrenching the serrated edges to the side. It caught before a sound like steel cable snapping filled the air, followed by Markosum’s roar.

He jerked away, making space, and slapped the dagger of Sickening Weakness from my hand. Bone shattered as the blade clattered to the black chitinous floor. Hobbling one step, he brought his armored foot down on the weapon with a thunderous force. It broke, the magic sizzling and popping briefly before the enchantment died.

He made a retching sound as he turned inhuman, emotionless eyes to me.

Blood streaming from my tattered cheek, one eye working and one hand absolutely broken, I came to my feet as a British man’s demonic voice purred into my ear.

“Override Engine has restored the mana in your dagger. Discharge it again at your leisure.”

I felt the smile this time, felt my lips twist away from my teeth as I lunged, jamming the glass dagger into Markosum’s chest. The tip bit into the gray armor above his pectoral and triggered.

FWOOM!

The blast was deafening as it tore a fist-sized chunk of armored flesh away. Ears ringing, I leaned into the newly made gap, driving the blade deep into his chest.

Markosum grabbed my hand with one of his. Then he ducked his shoulder and brought his elbow against my sternum.

SNAP!

Bone again cracked as I went flying over the edge of the catwalk and to the waiting magma.

Chapter 17: Arise

The momentum of Markosum’s strike left me twisting in the air. My high Grace score kicked in the instant before I landed on the magma, and I got my boots between me and the molten material.

I landed hard and nearly fell, dropping to a crouch to prevent myself from toppling. Still in motion, I slid backwards, carried across the ice-smooth pond of liquid metal as heat and smoke threatened to finish what my enemy had started.

My necklace pulsed against my neck, reminding me of its presence as it reduced the effects of the heat damage. Pants smoldering, I was pretty sure only the copious amounts of blood caking my boxers kept them from catching on fire, not that I would have noticed.

One of my hands was broken, the fingers barely responding, and I was pretty sure my collarbone was cracked, if not outright broken. On top of those things, I still couldn’t see out of one eye. It didn’t take a flashing HUD update to recognize that I was down to the last of my hit points. In just a few seconds, the fumes or heat would kick over the last digit and I’d go under.

Oddly, there was no fear.

Knees bent, on the brink of death, I knew one regret.

It was that I hadn’t done more damage.

Someone barked a raw, maniacal laugh.

Markosum, standing at the edge of the catwalk, the tip of my glass dagger still in his chest, watched as I glided away.

He wasn’t the one laughing.

Out of my periphery, I saw another pair of shadow-animated corpses merge with the magma. A thrumming sound came from the dangling heart as a new tension filled the air. At the same time, I felt a wave of frost approaching on my good side, the one with the working hand and eye.

It was the metal rod.

I leaned, reaching for the object. If I could catch it, I could use it to slow my glide, maybe I could climb the creature’s corpse and then I could get out of the pit. Then, maybe I could…

My palm smacked into the orange-red bar.

Sizzle! CRACK!

The rod was shorter than I’d expected. I pulled it free in a whipping motion, sending glowing material in an arc before me as I came to my feet. Runes thrummed along the length of blocky metal, ending at a jagged, sharp tip at the far end like a stake. The bottom half of the rod was dark, the runes doused, but the half I held glowed fiercely.

Thrum-Thrum.

The monstrous heart clenched.

Thrum-Thrum.

The presence from the corridor gathered around me, pushing inward.

Thrum-Thrum.

A counter force, weak by comparison, emerged from within me.

The voice of my HUD spoke into my ear, sounding delighted. “The daemon seeks entry to a new host. Override Engine and the local restraint spells have slowed its ingress but both will fail shortly. Your health is down to single digits. There is no path to victory. Your quest is over. This leads one to wonder: When you perish, what wonderful horrors will your death facilitate?”

The System’s message only rekindled my determination.

Looking up, I searched for the heart. It was directly above me, the massive organ just a foot out of reach. With a roar of defiance, I leaped, driving the jagged metal into the tissue. The flesh tore, then annealed, closing around the wound so rapidly that it caught me in mid-leap and held me there, feet dangling over the floor.

Wind burst from around my body as fire filled the heart, fully illuminating the room. Mind racing, I saw something I’d missed during the conflict.

Growths, similar to the ones I’d seen on the dragon, covered the corpse’s extremities. It appeared to me as bits of clinging, rotting vines which had woven their way through the thing’s bones and had begun to inflate, mimicking soft tissue.

The recognition came and went as ice slammed into my hand. Above me, the heart melted, pouring into the rod.

Tch-tch-tch!

With a sound like stone sliding into place, the doused runes at the far end of the rod lit up. As they did, my chest clenched. Around me, in a circle nearly twelve feet in diameter, magma churned, throwing liquid tendrils into the air. The tendrils extended, stretching, and were caught by some unseen force. Lines and sparks of white-hot, orange-red material floated around me, creating a chaotic pattern, a coronal sphere that surrounded my dangling body.

A voice, half heard, but mostly felt, echoed through my very soul.

Arise, it said.

Arise, it commanded.

“Override Engine has temporarily surpassed its limitations,” the System voice announced. This time, it sounded baffled. Or maybe intrigued. “The mana you’re producing has temporarily exceeded this chamber’s limitations. You may jump to freedom if you…”

I jumped.

Not to freedom.

To Markosum.

Chapter 18: Massacre

The giant man spun as I appeared behind him. With a muted sound of surprise, he brought a hand up, deflecting a blob of magma that had traveled with me. Into that opening, I thrust the jagged tip of the broken rod.

It impaled his chest, melting through carapace armor as if it was wax and the bar a blowtorch. Markosum grunted, eyes widening as, one hand now covered in burning metal, he reached to stop me.

I brought my other hand, the broken one, to the remains of the glass dagger. As soon as I touched the sharp, jagged material, I felt the enchantment on the tip come to life.

“Override Engine has restored the mana in your dagger. Discharge it again at your leisure.”

The System told me what happened, but I didn’t need the words.

Eye to eye, face to face, I snarled, “Fuck off,” as the enchantment triggered.

Markosum’s chest glowed blue-green an instant before the explosion tore a hole directly through his torso. At the same time, the sharp metal of the rod found vital organs.

The light left his eyes, and he collapsed, soundless in death. As his corpse slid away, the remains of the glass dagger jerked from my bloodied, broken hand. I looked down at it, seeing my mangled appendage with my one working eye.

Then I lowered my arm and looked at the glowing rod in my other hand.

A little over two and a half feet long, it was about twice the width of a typical stick of rebar, and so covered with intricate symbols that I had difficulty discerning a single one. I tried opening my fingers to release it, but they wouldn’t move.

Frowning, I looked closer.

My skin had melted to the metal, merging with the relic.

“Ouch,” I croaked. My throat felt like I’d swallowed glass, and I looked around.

The presence was gone, along with the heart. Fresh, writhing bodies continued to pour in from the chute and merge with the magma, without consequence. I shifted a foot, putting it against Markosum’s body.

My HUD appeared, revealing that the guy had only one item on his person. It was labeled, “Chief Officer’s Access Chit,” and the System even highlighted where it was on the corpse for me.

It took a few painful minutes, mostly involving my feet and some awkward angles, to get the chit added to my inventory. Once I had it, I started towards the exit, fully intending to Jump to safety.

“M…Markosum?” A quavering, frightened, voice came from the corridor behind the podium. “Admiral Grellan says he wants me to check on the status of the re-forging. He wants us to finish the town and move on as quickly as possible. A…are you back here? Hello?”

I darted to the side, back to the wall next to the exit, and held my breath as a pair of slow footsteps approached. A man’s back, clad in a simple brown shirt, emerged from the tunnel. I couldn’t tell the species, but he looked small, barely over four feet tall, and moved with a limp.

My HUD gave the guy a name. Kiku, Elite Engineering and Ritualist Specialist – Hireling.

A bit of fuzzing beneath the title told me there was more context, if I wanted. With a mental curse, I focused my attention and received a block of additional information.

Hirelings: Hirelings are adventurers who have reached at least level 30 and made an agreement with the System to act as assistants and officers for others. These individuals tend to be non-violent experts who seek to survive without conflict.

Hirelings must obey the one who employs them faithfully, with two exceptions: If mistreated, a hireling may quit their employment. This will return them to one of the central System worlds where they may be hired by other adventurers. If captured, a hireling may be conscripted by an adventurer at cross-purposes with their employer. Provided the capturing adventurer does not harm the hireling, they must obey their captor faithfully for up to 1-hour, or until they are freed by their employer.

Additional details about hirelings will become available at level 30 or once you reach a core System World and receive a tutorial.

“Fuck me,” I groaned, moving toward the engineer. Holding the sharp tip of the rod, which still glowed so brightly that it left vapor trails in its wake, toward his back, I tried to growl, “Surrender or die.”

It came our mangled, more, ‘Ughgguhgh ugh thigh.’

To Kiku’s credit, he didn’t laugh. Hands lifted, he turned around, revealing a very pale-looking, middle-aged human with a pair of horns growing from his forehead. Each horn shimmered as waves of incandescent cilia waved and shifted across them.

He saw me and started to relax until his eyes found the bar still fused to my hand. “Z…zetoliath. You took his spirit. You took it into…”

I poked his chest with the sharp end. Kiku’s shirt smoldered. Licking my lips, I swallowed something. It was probably blood. I hoped it was my own. “Surrender or die.”

It came out better this time.

“Ah. Uh. But.” The engineer squirmed. “He’ll be so unhappy if I do.”

Leaning closer, I brought my face within inches of his. “Do I look like someone who gives a flying shit about anyone being happy?”

The corona of flying magma had decreased in the seconds since my jump, but it had just enough left to orbit a few stray ashes around us as I said the words.

That did it.

Notice: You have captured Kiku. Provided you do not harm him, he is obligated to obey you faithfully for 1-hour.

“Where’s the Admiral and what is he doing?” I asked as soon as the British man grated the words.

Kiku pointed the way he’d come. “At the helm, maintaining his fukuu. If he loses focus, they will run amuck. It’s the cost of the augmentor he’s using.”

“Are there more of you? More hirelings?”

“Y..yes. Gurza. She’s below, manning the winches to bring the bodies up.”

“And the munitions room. Who is there?”

He hesitated. When he did, I saw his eyes jerk up and to the left as he read a System prompt. “No one. It’s just me. The System Event cleared everyone else out. They’re back on base, preparing the rest of the fleet.”

I checked my HUD. Ignoring my current hit points (which remained in the single digits), I saw the quest I’d accepted was still active. “Show me the munitions room.”

Kiku obeyed, moving ahead.

As we walked, I asked, “What’s the fleet preparing for?”

“The next System Event. We’ve been promised an opportunity to prove our worth against a frontier world. It’s one that’s held out for centuries. With this victory, the Summanati hope to earn the System’s favor.”

The hall ended at a slab of a door covered in magical symbols. It opened for Kiku, who stepped rapidly ahead and turned, face turning smug. The expression faded as the doors remained open for me, too.

“Keep going,” I said.

Grumbling, Kiku did as I commanded, leading me down a series of twisting, narrow halls lined with the same rough metal. “How did you bypass the traps?”

“What?”

He gestured at the floor. “The ship’s covered with them. It takes a Chief Officer chit to not trigger them in the off-limits zones.”

I smirked, but didn’t answer. “Do you have any healing supplies?”

“Just this.” With a sigh, he made a rotating motion with his hand, producing a glowing yellow sphere. He passed it to me, adding, “There’s more in the crew galley and at the helm. It’s all I keep on me.”

My HUD identified it.

Globe of Restoration: This powerful healing object will shower the user in magic, restoring 50% of their health. Its restorative effect will regenerate damaged nerves and partially amputated limbs but cannot restore completely removed organs.

Uses: 1

Resale Value: 2,500 exchange credits (ECs).

I nearly used the thing on the spot. Then I remembered the headdress, the one I’d left back in the testing area.

If putting that on had sent me into a rage, it was entirely possible that using this globe had an equal risk. According to the Hireling text, if I attacked Kiku, he’d be free to do what he wanted again.

“I’ll take it. Hold it next to my storage pouch,” I directed.

He gave me a confused look, but did as directed. After a few seconds, my inventory management pouch took it in.

I considered asking him for any other equipment he was hiding but opted for haste instead. Going to the Reliquary had been a gamble, one I’d hoped would give me a proper weapon to use against any other defenses I found aboard.

What I’d gotten was a sharp, if hot, stick and a laundry list of injuries.

“Void difficulty,” I muttered to myself, too soft for my captive to hear.

We came to a chamber that resembled the cargo hold of an aircraft carrier, only two or three times bigger than any I’d ever heard about. Long wooden boxes lined the walls and floor, held in place with sullenly glowing symbols. Another pillar, mirroring the one I’d seen in the reliquary, jutted out of the center of the space.

“How does it work? What do these do?” I asked, directing Kiku to walk us to the pillar.

“These are different offensive weapons,” he replied. “Those,” he pointed to an open box with oblong spheres, each maybe ten feet in diameter, “are like the Emergence Quake we used on the city below us. The rest are variations on the same theme but scaled much higher. Bigger.”

As we walked among the crates, I saw several, much larger versions of the one he’d pointed at. Each had an oversized Jumper mounted to one side.

“Are those special Jumpers?” I asked.

“Yes. They provide magical interfaces for the munitions and have enough mana for a single, extremely-long range jump.” At my curious look, Kiku went on, “We use spellcasters to scry for vulnerable locations, then teleport in Jump Pads to provide viable targets. The Jumpers take the brunt of the mana cost off the fleet’s spellcasters, allowing them to handle any enemy defenses”

I could only imagine the devastation this level of payload would be capable of. It didn’t feel right. In fact, the very presence of this airship and its cargo went against what my guide had told me. “How is that strategic, fair, or balanced? Isn’t this tactic against the System’s own directives?”

“The System is fair within its borders but will only tolerate resistance to its expansion for so long.”

“Ah. I see.”

We made it to the pillar. This time, my HUD translated the text without all the glitching.

Station Locked to Chief Engineer Kiku. Authorization Required.

Click.

A man’s voice, gruff and impatient, spoke out of the air next to Kiku’s shoulder. “Status report. Where’s my new System relic? Where’s Markosum? He hasn’t checked in for minutes. Is something happening back there?”

The engineer looked at me, one eyebrow lifted. I pointed at my mouth, miming speech, then at my ear, signaling that I wanted to know if the Admiral would hear me talk.

Kiku shook his head.

“Tell him a plausible lie,” I directed. “Do whatever you need to keep him at the helm a little longer. And give me permission to access this station.”

He put a hand on the pillar as he said, “Markosum got too close. The Daemon lured him in and began possessing him. I had to deal with it. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have an update.”

“What? Again?” The Admiral cursed. “Fine. Hurry. Just five minutes. The Event is almost over, and I want to finish this place off before we go.”

My HUD lit up with new menus, giving me a list of weapons in stock. There were more types than I had time to digest, although a few stood out.

Transmuting, Eternal Plague Swarm (X 5) – Radius of impact: 100 miles

Old Magic Nullification Spheres (X 500) – Radius of impact: 500 feet

(True) Manifest Absolute Horror (X 15) – Radius of impact: 3 miles

Beside the list were controls. Supplemental text appeared beneath each as I focused on them.

Assign by (Group):

Use this to assign universal commands to an entire category of munition.

Assign by (Individuals):

Assign commands to one explosive.

Assign Target (See Available Jump List)

Provide the Munitions Jumpers with targets.

Assign Delay:

Delay payload deployment by this amount.

Initiation (Send) Delay:

Delay triggering the Munitions Jumpers by this amount. Useful for sudden, surprise attacks.

I checked the jump list. It was the same one I’d seen earlier, with various spots around the ship. Working as quickly as I could, I played with the controls until I figured out precisely what I wanted. Selecting the smallest of the devices, I sent one to the helm and one to the crew’s quarters.

These weapons might resemble those found on Earth, but they were magical, not explosive. If I did this correctly, I’d kill the Admiral and the other hireling, but leave the rest of the stock intact for the locals.

In theory, it would give them a legitimate opportunity to strike back.

Seeing Kiku dry washing his hands next to me, I paused long enough to ask, “Why is the Admiral even here? This doesn’t seem like the sort of mission that would merit so much firepower.”

He shivered, as if catching on to what I was doing. His mouth moved, no words coming out for several seconds, and then at last he said, “S-s-side-quest. He wanted a soft target to finalize the relic.”

I bit back a laugh, talking as I kept working. “Let me get this straight. This Admiral guy, and the entire Summanati fleet, has been building up in preparation to go apocalyptic on a world that’s resisted the System for long enough to piss it off. When this Event pops up, he comes out here to collect the corpses of other resistance folk, so he can use them in some elaborate ritual to corrupt one relic?”

“That’s the shade of things, yes.” Again, I was struck by just how bland Kiku sounded.

I waved the relic around. “Just how powerful was this thing supposed to be?”

“I’m…” He hesitated, licking his lips, eyes widening as he read more System text. “It says that question is out of bounds for me to tell you. It says if you survive this, it will reward you with a future quest to find out.”

“Fine.” I set the timers and waved. “Come on. We need to get off this boat. Now.”

Chapter 19: Quest Epilogue

Kiku didn’t need motivation; he ran ahead, limp barely impeding his sprint. “Cargo bay, just through here.” He pointed at a pair of double doors that swung open a heartbeat before he pushed through.

A woman, middle-aged and soft looking, with a face that could have belonged to any mother ever, came through the doors. She spotted Kiku, glanced up and to the right at her HUD, then held her palm against his chest.

Five feet ahead of me, just out of the line of fire, the chief engineer evaporated into gory mist.

I kept running, dodging just far enough to the side to narrowly dodge a beam of solid, destructive light. Extending my useless, broken and cut hand, I shoved Gurza’s arms to the side and drove the tip of the relic rod into her neck.

Blood erupted in a geyser as she jerked, bringing an arm up to shove the rod away. The woman was strong, but as her hand made contact with the rod, she began to scream.

It was horrific, a wailing cry that grew, and grew as hideous red light poured out of the metal stake and into her body. I felt the magic of the relic dim, its mana spent, as the woman collapsed at my feet, her cries only growing worse as her skin became translucent.

I didn’t know what to think of what had happened, other than to be thankful it had.

Leaping over two corpses, I dashed into a much smaller, narrow hallway. Unfamiliar with the interior and running out of time, I dashed to my left, down another short corridor. It ended at an X-intersection.

My HUD maintained a countdown, and when I glanced at it, the display read ’15 Seconds.’

I went to my right and through a door that opened at my presence. Past the door was another hallway, this one with a curved far wall covered in open ports. Chains ran along the length of the floor, with various magical mechanisms connecting them to rolling conveyors that stretched through the interior.

Through the ports, I had a clear view of dozens of gathered fukuu, the city, and the edge of the distant forest.

I jumped, reappearing at my target location, facing deeper into the forest.

Turning as the forest shook, I watched as the front of the Admiral’s flagship vessel bulged, then cracked apart. It didn’t begin to fall or drift, as I’d expected, although the summoned fukuu all vanished, all at once.

“There we go,” I said, a wave of self-satisfaction momentarily pushing away all the pain. “Damage.”

Fumbling at my hip with the tattered remains of my hand, I managed to get the Globe of Restoration out. A toggle on my HUD let me activate it.

As I’d expected, being showered in healing magic made me burn just as bad as the magma floor had, although it didn’t quite send me into a killing rage. The fact that I’d gone around so weak an ambitious rabbit could have killed me without meaning to made me laugh in spite of the pain.

My cut hand knit, and my blind eye sparked and fizzed with lights as it healed. Only the hand holding the rod remained unchanged by the Restoration. That would probably be a problem, although for right now I didn’t mind it.

The rod was mine now. I’d earned it fair and square. If it wanted to hang on a little longer, that was fine. Earth’s surgeons would remove it, if it came to that. No doubt the low mana environment would make removing cursed items (assuming this was one) easy.

Twigs cracked behind me, and I turned to see the woman and boy emerge from the depths of the forest. Aderle had her hood back and her cloak unbuttoned enough to reveal a plain, workaday dress.

“What did you do?” she asked, looking from me to my hand, to the flying vessel. “What have you done?”

I cracked what I hoped was a friendly smile. The boy inhaled, drawing away, abruptly pale. Aderele didn’t fare much better. She had her spare glass dagger in her hand in a flash, although she didn’t raise it toward me.

“Yeah, I guess I do need to clean up, don’t I?” I coughed, trying to force the grin off my face. It wouldn’t budge, so I turned away from them to admire my handiwork. Black cracks erupted from the front of the vessel as a bloated, twitching corpse appeared. It flew from the airship, landing on the still-churning cracks in the ground where the city’s gates had once stood.

Shadows drew the Admiral’s body into the depths.

“What did you do?” Aderle asked again, insistent.

“Broke things,” I said, fighting laughter. “Gave you all a chance to give them a proper fucking, if you’re so inclined.”

My HUD flashed as the British man growled. “System Event ending in…10…9…”

My gaze dragged from the woman to the boy, I thought about what I’d be leaving them with, and about how the next System Event might be their last.

With a reluctant sigh, I tugged all but one of the Short-Range Jumpers out of my inventory and tossed them at the woman’s feet. I added both access chits I’d taken from the priest and bodyguard to the pile. “Guess you’ll need an easy way to get up there, eh?”

She opened her mouth, “But why…”

Anything she’d been about to say was cut off by the abrupt transition of my return to the room with the quest screens. Steward, alpaca eyes big and dark behind his spectacles, made a bleating sound and rapidly stepped toward me.

“Hey, Stew. Guess I get a class now, huh?” I held my hand up. “Don’t suppose you’re allowed to help with this, are you?”

Inventory Update and Combat Summary

Experience Awards Notation: Although you will not be awarded experience points for impersonal kills (the System does not encourage such behavior), you have been granted access to a special title: Apocalypse Bringer. See your guide for details.

Dean Versus Markosum, Elite Personal Bodyguard.

Victor: Dean

Enemies: Level 35 Kosakoski Elite

Losses: 73 hit points

Dean Versus Gurza, Elite Personal Assistant.

Victor: Dean

Enemies: Level 28 Human Elite

Losses: Kiku

Total Awards: 14,500 experience points; dropped loot.

Quest Rewards

· New Title

· Upgraded Title

· +1 Conquest

· Access to a class

Updated Inventory

1 X Relic – Unforged Rod (With enhancements provided by the consumed spirit of Zetoliath) – Future quests and research required to fully utilize this piece of equipment.

Long Range Jumper X 2 (One with 2 remaining charges)

Augmentor Dagger (Summoning) X 1

Short Range Jumper (3 Charges) X 1

Survival Scroll X 2

5,700 Exchange Credits

Chapter 20: Conquest

Steward whistled and the metal rod fell from my hand. It glowed, flaring with magic once, before vanishing into my inventory.

“That’s quite the bond you’ve forged,” he said, sounding far more animated than our previous interactions.

Looking at my bare hand, which appeared to have healed with the shape of the relic’s glyphs permanently etched into the flesh, I mumbled, “It’s mine.” Hearing what I’d just said, I stopped short of making a joke about how it was ‘precious’ to me. That wasn’t what I meant. At least, I didn’t think so.

Since touching my first sword, I’d felt a kinship with holding a weapon. My hands wanted them. When I’d drawn that raw, half-melted stake of metal from the magical magma, I’d become whole.

It was as if whatever that thing was fit the broken, angry thing inside of me.

“I’d like to thank you for what you did,” my guide said, coming close enough to brush his head against my thigh. “The System…it takes so much of us away. Inch by inch. Even the best of us lose ourselves eventually.”

The creature’s words jarred me from my introspection. Reaching down, I awkwardly gave him a pat on the head. “You’re welcome, but you know I didn’t just do it for you. Right?”

“I do.” One of his pseudopods grew an eye and winked at me.

That one gesture said so much. It told me that what we said, or maybe what he said could have consequences. Thinking back to the treasure chests, that much was already obvious.

“Do you get to help me pick a class now?” I asked.

“Sure do.”

The wall of screens, once partially covered with visions of quests, were replaced with words like “Warrior,” “Onslaught,” “Foolish,” and so on.

“How does a class work?” I asked, reading the titles. “On Earth, we have games like this. In those, the classes usually come with a core list of special abilities and skills that get better as the person gains levels.” Pausing, I thought for a moment before adding, “And what about spells? Spellcasting classes all had magical books they carried around.”

“Ah. It doesn’t work like that. Most of your abilities come from traits or magical items. Anyone can learn spells. Unless you’re interacting with non-System magic, your HUD will handle that process for you. It’s best not to think of your class as what shapes you, but as a compact between yourself and the System. It’s an agreement about your purpose. Basically, you’re telling the System what you are passionate about, so it knows what quests to send you on. In exchange, you get a thematic benefit that can usually be summarized in a couple sentences.”

I frowned, glancing over at him. “Wait. My HUD is full of mechanics and statistics. Are you saying there’s no mechanical benefit to having a class?”

“Oh, no. There absolutely are. Here, maybe examples will make this easier to understand.”

Fighter lit up, and a sentence appeared beneath it.

Purpose: Fighters are warriors eternally seeking challenges in martial combat.

Thematic Benefit: Fighters add 25% of their Strength score to all damage and may add 25% of their Grace score to their chances to dodge attacks. They also gain a +1% skill bonus to any thematically-appropriate skills they learn. This bonus increases by +1 per level they gain.

“Ohhh,” I said, honestly a little relieved. The last thing I wanted was for my HUD to become bogged down with a character sheet that was a mile long and impossible for me to understand.

Steward gave me an alpaca smile. It revealed several yellow teeth. “I see you earned a Conquest with your latest quest. Would you like to know what that does?”

Both pseudopods gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“A Conquest is kind of like a System wish. It lets you ask the System to combine any two different things into a new one. You can also do things like request a favor, or a special quest. As long as you’re not trying to overtly break anything, most of the time the System will honor a Conquest even to its own detriment.”

“Even to its own detriment?” I repeated, thinking about my recent quests. “It’ll act against itself?”

He replied slowly, enunciating the words with added weight. “The System thrives on conflict, on the pursuit of power and growth. It feeds when concentrated magic is released. The more concentrated, the better.”

“Concentrated, like a high-level adventurer, with lots of abilities?”

Double thumbs-up.

It didn’t quite make sense, not yet, but I was close to understanding. Since the System saw me as part of it, as long as I was doing things to make myself more powerful, it didn’t care what happened. Even if I was protecting the frontier worlds, it viewed the very act of my struggle as fuel.

That insight left me feeling both satisfied and ready for more.

I pointed at Onslaught. “What’s that one do?”

The purpose and benefit came up.

Purpose: To Onslaught is to war without respite.

Thematic Benefit: Adventurers with the Onslaught class regain 10% of their health whenever they kill an enemy. The enemy must be worth an experience reward to qualify. While in combat, members of this class treat their Attunement score as 25% higher when resisting any effect that would stop them from committing violence.

“Life drain,” I said, perking up. “That’s useful.”

“And uncommon as either a trait or class feature,” Steward added. “Onslaught is a relatively rare class.”

I glanced over, wondering if his wording was intentional. ‘Relatively rare’ had to be a hint. “What’s the rarest class available to me?”

“BREAKER,” he said without hesitation, the way he spoke the word making it clear that it had to be delivered in all capital letters.

The description appeared. This time the British voice filled the room as it recited the words to the purpose.

Purpose:

When resistance is not enough;

When chains would hold you down;

When spells would bind, or lies would blind;

There is no force you cannot BREAK.

Thematic Benefit: Adventurers with this class may apply a 10% bonus to their Strength attribute when overcoming any physical limitation or restrictive force. They may apply a 10% bonus to their Attunement attribute when overcoming any magical limitation or restrictive force.

In addition to these benefits, you will receive a 10% bonus to all natural (non-System) skills you acquire following this same logic. For example: You will have 10% more skill and strength when attempting to extract yourself from being grappled. The skill bonus only applies to a skill you’ve trained outside of System Events.

Situational Limitation: This does not apply to standard offensive actions. The System does not perceive someone “proactively battering someone to death” as a trigger for this class ability. If someone is holding you down, however, it does.

Mana Limitation: This class ability requires mana to function, and will be limited based on the amount available to the wielder.

Synergy: Mana Sensitivity synergizes with this class. With your current bonus, it would increase the thematic benefit from BREAKER to 15%.

I looked at the class, mind churning. The words, recited so passionately, stirred me. The thought of someone chaining me or trying to use magic to hold down…Both elicited a response so savage that I nearly snarled.

“I need more than a defensive class,” I said, running through everything Steward had told me again. There was something I was missing. Something small. It was something I’d overlooked a few times now…

Head whipping from the screens to Steward, I asked, “Wait. What does the Apocalypse Bringer title do?”

Eyes gleaming approval, he spoke casually, adopting the same absent voice he’d had when I’d arrived. “Normally? It gives a permanent fifteen percent bonus to all damage you do while you’re enraged. With your upgraded title, it’s twenty-five percent. That includes spell damage, by the way, in case you’re thinking of learning a few.”

I took a few steps, walking off excess energy as the ideas came and went. There were so many possibilities, so many combinations to consider. I hadn’t thought of Brian since the beginning of the Void quest, but I did so now. He would have pulled the options apart for days, looking for the best, most optimal choices.

Not me.

For me, it was about feeling.

“If I spend one of my Conquests to create an Apocalypse BREAKER, what will the class do?”

“Oh. Now that’s a combination I’ve never heard of.” He turned from me, eyes distant. A few seconds later, the screens updated with the new class. This time, the System didn’t simply recite the text; the voice transformed it into a call to action, an unmistakable challenge.

Against the tide that binds and magic that blinds;

You thrive.

In the face of triumphant cowards and liars, where even heroes flee in terror;

You ascend.

Against hordes that blacken skies, facing star born abominations;

You transcend.

When evil is at its apex, you are the predator it flees.

Arise, Apocalypse BREAKER.

Thematic Benefit: Apocalypse BREAKER is a custom creation forged with a Conquest. It unites the highly rare BREAKER class and the Apocalypse Bringer title.

As one, you will receive a 20% bonus to your Strength attribute when overcoming any physical limitation, restrictive force, or when acting to defeat an overwhelming opponent. You may apply a 20% bonus to your Attunement attribute when overcoming any magical limitation, restrictive force, or when acting to defeat an overwhelming opponent.

In addition to these benefits, you will receive a 20% bonus to all natural (non-System) skills you acquire following this same logic. For example: You will have 20% more skill and strength when wielding a sword to defeat an overwhelming opponent. The skill bonus only applies to ones you’ve trained outside of System Events.

Expanded Definition (due to title upgrade): This class benefit also applies to when you defend others against an opponent who would be overwhelming to them.

Situational Limitation: This does not apply to standard offensive actions. The System does not perceive someone “battering someone to death proactively” as a trigger for this class ability.

Mana Limitation: This class requires mana to function and will be limited based on the amount available to the wielder.

Synergy: Mana Sensitivity synergizes with this class. With your current bonus, it would increase the thematic benefit from Apocalypse BREAKER to 30%.

“Why does it sound like the System wants me to take it?” I whispered, taken aback at the passion in the performance.

“Because it does,” Steward said. “With a class like that, you could change the current balance of power in System space. Imagine the mana it will absorb if you truly come to represent that ideal?”

I didn’t want to play into the System’s agenda. Then again, turning its nature against it was precisely why I was here.

“Yeah. I accept.”

My HUD flickered, updating. A gentle sense of power pulsed through my body, adding a constant, low-level irritation that my relics, thankfully, balanced.

“The System Event is almost over,” Steward announced. “You’ve got your class. This will probably be the last time I see you. Just remember about traits. Space them out. Get them when you’re under pressure. It’ll increase the chances of getting good ones.”

I shook my head, unwilling to sacrifice the only ally I’d made beyond Earth. “What if I use my final Conquest? Will the System let me retain you as my advisor or something? I’m only level three. Without your help, I might very well make poor decisions during the next Event.”

“That…is a possibility. But you’d be making a big sacrifice just to keep me available. Despite appearances to the contrary, Conquests are often once-a-lifetime rewards, if that.”

“What’s my life worth if I die to a bad decision you could have helped me navigate? Consider it spent.”

My HUD updated.

Hireling Acquired: “Steward”

Details: You have spent a Conquest to acquire “Steward” as a permanent hireling. He will follow the standard hireling rules with a few exceptions:

· You will always meet him in a place similar to the trials at the beginning of a System Event.

· He will be allowed to provide the same level of guidance and insight as a standard guide.

· Quests will be made available to upgrade his access and capabilities, allowing him to perform secondary functions while you are on your home world or deployed.

· Until you’ve constructed a proper base, he will be placed in a central System World, where he will be well taken care of.

No sooner had the text appeared than a countdown joined it.

System Event Ending in 3…2…1

Character Update

Author’s Note: Frequent character sheet updates can be jarring for some and important for others. For those LitRPG crunch enthusiasts (like ourselves), we’ve placed Dean’s updated character sheet and inventory here. For those less enthusiastic, feel free to skip ahead. You’ll find plenty of context clues in the upcoming chapters to remind you of his capabilities.

Name: Dean Williams

Class: Apocalypse BREAKER

Level: 3

Conquests: 0

Installed Experience Points: 14,951

Total Acquired Experience Points: 149,268

Hit Points: 120

Mana: 250

Unclaimed Titles: 2

Available Titles:

· Dragon Survivor

· Far Too Lucky

· Furious Killer

· Scout Slayer

Active Traits: Human, Mana Sensitivity (50% out of 300% augmentation enabled; Enhanced Vulnerability disabled)

Attributes

Dean has 45 attribute points to distribute and will gain an additional 15 per level. He gains an extra Attribute-based trait at 100 and every 50 points thereafter. Due to System safety requirements, only 2-3 of the levels he’s earned will be installed per System Event for the first few. Essentially, the System has to “believe” he’s earned his true level before it can be applied.

Strength – 100

Endurance – 100

Grace – 100

Focus – 100

Mind – 100

Perception – 100

Attunement – 117

Traits

Mana Limitation: Unless otherwise stated, traits require mana to function. In places with no mana, they will not work at all.

Adversary Analysis: Considered one of the rarest, and most dangerous traits in System space, this trait has two functions.

· When you touch another adventurer, you have a 30% chance to learn: their most recent quest, their class, their approximate level, and whether they have any storage or inventory-based abilities. If you touch an adventurer you’ve defeated, this ability always succeeds (100% chance). Against defeated foes, you can also instantly view and identify their equipped inventory, including all magical properties of their equipment.

· If you defeat an enemy with a storage power, their extra-spatial inventory will linger for 1 hour before it disperses naturally. While it remains, you may attempt to access the space. If you choose to do so, there is a 5% chance you will gain access to the complete inventory list and may claim any one item from the storage space. The chance to trigger increases by 1% per the wielder’s level, up to a maximum of 65%. You may make this attempt only once. If it fails, the lingering inventory vanishes instantly. Note: This ability alone makes this trait one of the most coveted and feared in System space. Limitations: Some enemies or magical items may perceive the presence of this ability.

Destructive: Your Strength attribute is considered 35% higher when dealing damage to inorganic material.

Override Engine: This starting trait is only available due to draconic contamination. Choosing this will dramatically transform your relationship with mana. Instead of simply consuming it, you will also produce it. The amount, type, and nature of mana produced will be based on a number of variables, including your emotional and physical state, along with your level. At your current level, the only benefit will be a small amount of resistance to negative magical effects. At higher levels, your ability to counter System-driven effects will be far superior to any other adventurer’s. As a byproduct of this adaptation, the hives will no longer have a statistically deleterious effect. Warning! At higher levels, this trait will result in higher-intensity System Events than normal.

***

Class Features

Mana Limitation: This class requires mana to function and will be limited based on the amount available to the wielder.

Thematic Benefit: Apocalypse BREAKER is a custom creation forged with a Conquest. It unites the highly rare BREAKER class and the Apocalypse Bringer title.

As one, you will receive a 20% bonus to your Strength attribute when overcoming any physical limitation, restrictive force, or when acting to defeat an overwhelming opponent. They may apply a 20% bonus to your Attunement attribute when overcoming any magical limitation, restrictive force, or when acting to defeat an overwhelming opponent.

In addition to these benefits, you will receive a 20% bonus to all natural (non-System) skills you acquire following this same logic. For example: You will have 20% more skill and strength when wielding a sword to defeat an overwhelming opponent. The skill bonus only applies to a ones you’ve trained outside of System Events.

Expanded Definition (due to title upgrade): This class benefit also applies to when you defend others against an opponent who would be overwhelming to them.

Situational Limitation: This does not apply to standard offensive actions. The System does not perceive someone “battering someone to death proactively” as a trigger for this class ability.

Synergy: Mana Sensitivity synergizes with this class. With your current bonus, it would increase the thematic benefit from Apocalypse BREAKER to 30%.

***

Applicable Organic Skills

Organic skills are listed as a % above baseline (Earth) human normal. Martial Arts of 10% indicates that Dean is 10% better than the average human. As this list could become comprehensive, it will be updated based on training, magical items, and use.

· Martial Arts: 10%

· Basic Survival: 5%

· “The Lore”: 45%

***

Inventory

Mana Limitation: Relics are highly dependent on mana to function, although some of their least powerful enhancements may remain intact due to Override Engine. Experimentation is required. Only lesser magical items may function in low magic areas. All others become dormant (inventory pouches are inert, but do not expel their possessions, etc.).

· Inventory Management Pouch X 2

· Unforged Rod (Relic)

· Zack’s Belt of True Ambidexterity (Relic)

· Fanto’s Frantic Footwear of Frenetic Frenzy and Floating (Relic)

· Long Range Jumper X 2 (One with 2 remaining charges)

· Necklace of Elemental Protection (Lesser)

· Vambraces of Weapon Holding (Lesser)

· Headdress of Storms (Unclaimed – Ask Steward about it)

· Jumper Access Token X 1

· Augmentor Dagger (Summoning) X 1

· Short Range Jumper (3 Charges) X 1

· Survival Scroll X 2

· 5,700 Exchange Credits

Chapter 21: Smells New

The transition hit me like a truck.

One second, I stood in the glowing, sterile void of the System's Event quest area, Steward's alpaca face the last thing in my vision. The next, the world snapped back into place like a rubber band stretched too far and released all at once. A faint afterimage of golden script burned behind my eyes, then faded as reality came crashing back in.

I briefly saw a large, domed room, the interior dimly lit and lined in dark material. Then what little light there was overwhelmed me. My eyes stung, watering instantly, lids narrowing against the oppressive glare of overhead fluorescents.

It wasn't just that it was bright—it was wrong. There was a harsh, clinical feel to the light itself, as if in contrast to the place I had been, this was fundamentally wrong.

I attempted to force my eyelids open, catching sight of a medical facility full of other System Activated people and medical professionals, all milling around. Through tight lids, I realized the area was barely brighter than a candle. I would have had a better time trying to hold my eyes open while staring into a storm of broken glass.

On the plus side, the sensation didn't make me think it was a migraine. This was just light sensitivity amped up to an eleven.

After a few seconds I felt the anguish slide away, allowing me to open my eyes another fraction of an inch. The pain came again, so I resolved to take my time, trying to get a handle on where I was and what was happening.

I inhaled and a foreign chemical aroma punched into my sinuses. It was a mixture of the familiar and unfamiliar—sterilizing agents, iodine, the coppery tang of blood, sweat, burned fabric, and more.

Beneath the aromas I recognized there were many more. A faint zing of coffee mixed with minty mud, and something acerbic yet floral, then another of ozone that wasn't quite like anything I'd encountered before. My instincts, still unfocused and untrained, told me that I was picking up bits from other System worlds, hints of where the other Activated people in the room had gone.

Then someone screamed and the smell of infection overrode everything. I had to clench my jaw as my stomach twisted in revulsion.

I'd gotten my eyes open a little further. Now I had a clearer vision of the medical dome. The place was the size of an airplane hangar bay. I was standing on an octangle of dark, steely material, a bit like I'd been teleported in on a Star Trek episode.

Along the far wall was a sign labeled Return Bay Alpha.

A quick count told me another hundred, maybe more, other people were spread equally over the area. Most wore head-to-toe medical gear. A few were dressed in basic camo, holding computer tablets and escorting the uninjured out of the room.

I caught the eye of a woman in the distance and she frowned, returning my gaze briefly before our exchange was interrupted by someone stepping up to talk to her. Dark hair and a relatively pretty face despite the signs of recent combat and military fatigues weren't what made her stand out. It was the air about her, the way that she made even her uniform and body armor seem stylish.

In that moment, I realized that my sense of smell and vision weren't all that had been enhanced. Without trying, I felt sound rise in a deafening tide. Every conversation, every scream of pain hammered and crashed into my skull, words blurring together.

Someone shouted orders from nearby. I couldn't make it out clearly over the rushing, layered noise, but saw the results as half a dozen new people ran into the room, moving to help one of the fallen. I glanced over, seeing a man whose body looked to have been partially digested by something.

I couldn't believe the guy was conscious, given how bad the injuries looked.

Clenching my fists, I tried to bring everything into focus, to understand precisely what had happened. Going from a world of quests and magic to this reality had my head spinning. It felt heavy, my skull too small to contain whatever was building behind my eyes.

A migraine. Not here yet, but I could feel it in the distance, a storm creeping over the horizon. Pressure gathered at the base of my skull, throbbing in slow pulses.

My stomach clenched, revolting as I finally figured out the trigger. Not only had I not slept in a very long time, but in a few short hours, everything I was had changed. My attributes were beyond peak human; what might have triggered a headache a day ago was hyper-magnified.

"Hey! New guy." Someone in a medical outfit snapped at me. I looked over, seeing a man with deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. "You look confused. This is the Event arrival bay. It pulls in everyone near the area after a System Event. If you've got more than half your hit points, I need you to go that way." He pointed to a pair of doors marked, "Debriefing".

I hadn't even thought to check my HUD. It took a few seconds to summon it, as if the display were reluctant to appear.

Current Status

Level: 3

Installed Experience Points: 14,951

Hit Points: 65/120

Mana: 250/250

Status Effects: Exhausted

Notice: You are in a low mana zone. Your mana will recover at 20% of the normal rate. This will impact a variety of functions, including your rate of regeneration. Check the low mana status effects tab for more information.

"I'm over half," I said, gawking as several people who'd been laying on the ground simply...stood up. One woman had a claw mark across her face, bone visible through her cheek, yet the flesh was knitting so quickly I could see it.

The medic followed my gaze. "Yeah. You SAO heal fast. Now, stop taking up space. Someone will come to debrief you in a bit."

It took effort, but I forced myself to move. My relic-tier boots, no longer functional, scraped against the tile as I started walking across the room. Ignoring my HUD, I took physical stock of my gear.

Everything was as it had been. I was shirtless, wearing blood-soaked, tattered pants. The vambraces I'd never used were snug against my forearms, and the faint weight of my necklace rested against my chest.

To my astonishment, the feeling of the necklace and vambraces was largely unchanged from when I'd acquired them. It still made me itch to wear them. Actually, it was worse. To add insult, neither of my relics were producing the same cooling effect.

I looked down at my empty hand, seeing how my flesh had melted. The runes were part of my skin but what had caused the damage was gone. I actually panicked for a second, trying to figure out where it was. Then I remembered—it was in the storage bag.

A quick glance at my HUD showed that it was listed in my inventory, with a note: See Low Magic Zone Rules next to it. Knowing I still had it, along with the storage pouches, sent a wave of nearly overwhelming relief through me. The migraine even faded a bit.

Passing through a pair of double doors, I found myself in a long hallway, the walls covered in computer screens. The same strange, magic-hybrid wiring wove through the substrate, connecting to each. Now that I had a better idea of what to look for, I realized that I could feel the pulse and pressure of magic as it moved through the walls and into the electronics.

It was subtly...wrong. Like if I came too close, I’d start to itch worse than ever.

People were moving in the hall, more medical officers and System Activated. I could tell the Activated mostly by their appearance: all were heightened, more muscular, more beautiful, more everything. A few looked physically unchanged but felt different in a way I couldn’t describe.

At the end of the hall, I saw Vince deep in conversation with Captain Nicholson. They were both gesturing at a screen, talking heatedly. Both were dirty and bloodied, with Nicholson’s hair matted to her scalp. One of Vince’s hands looked like he’d put it through a paper shredder, although he wasn’t bleeding. Both were entirely focused on their discussion.

I started walking toward them when a flash to my side drew my attention to a display on the wall. There were graphs, each plotted to a geographic point around the area. It included a legend that seemed to summarize the most recent Event.

Event 3189

Local Summary

Losses: 1 SAO

Initial Damage Assessment: 13 Critical; 20 Significant

Rewards: Average levels gained – 0.4; Average mana’s worth of gear obtained: ERROR – SEE DETAILS

Notable Quest Rewards: ERROR – SEE DETAILS

Hooking my thumbs in my belt, I stared at the words, wondering if some of the errors were for me. Touching the relic momentarily drew my curiosity to the ‘Low Mana Zone Rules’. Seeing as I was waiting for someone to come debrief me, I pulled those up.

Low Mana Zones

There are a variety of Low Mana Zones. Each has the following features:

· In-State Mana: Items and people with mana will not leak or lose mana in a low (or even no-mana) zone. Inventory bags and other similar equipment will become inert, but not damaged. Warning: It is possible to “force” an inventory bag open with a sufficient influx of mana. This should be done carefully, as it could cause a rupture of the object. This could lead to unforeseen and unfortunate consequences.

· Mana Recovery Rate Reduced: Your mana recovery rate will be reduced to a % of normal.

· Health Regeneration Rate Reduced: Mana is required to regenerate health at the System-standard 10%. In a low-mana zone, your body will consume its mana reserve naturally until empty. After that, your health recovery will normalize to whatever the local mana allows, prioritizing health over all else.

· Magical Items: Most ‘lesser’ magical items will continue to function at their base level, although this will vary depending on the mana in the zone. Relics will self-repair and retain some very basic functionality but will otherwise go dormant. On a positive note: they remain indestructible.

· Spells and Abilities: Unless otherwise listed, all traits or abilities that use mana will become dormant in low-mana zones. It is possible to supercharge them with an influx of mana, but this can be dangerous. Spells work at reduced effectiveness based on the zone.

· Other Situations: There are “mana variable” areas where mana is heightened or behaves in strange ways. In most cases, your HUD will provide updated analytics.

“That’s interesting,” I murmured, unable to stop a small smile at the sheer level of detail provided in that wall of text.

“Checking out the after-action report?” A voice said to my right.

Reacting without thinking, I jerked to the side, fingers curling as if I still held a knife.

"Hold there, big guy," Vince said, one hand held high. The other was holding a computer Tablet.

Seeing who it was, I relaxed with what I hoped was an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, and no. I was looking at the low mana rules.”

“Good ones to know.” He waved his Tablet, changing the subject. "Sorry for the delay on your debrief but once we saw the update to your HUD, I had to have the team re-run the results multiple times."

Dropping his voice, he leaned close, "No one has even heard of a BREAKER before, much less an Apocalypse BREAKER. Commander Dennings and her team just arrived a few minutes ago. She and Major Tanner want to meet you personally. I know you’re tired but can you handle a few more minutes?"

I considered his question, the relative nonchalance of his tone, then realized something strange. The man's heartbeat. I could hear it. It wasn't particularly clear or loud, not in the sea of noise, but it was there. And it was fast. Was he nervous?

"What's going on?" I asked, gesturing around the bustling corridor. "Is there something wrong?"

He twisted, looking at the screens lining the walls. I followed his attention, seeing that each was associated with a different person, allowing them to remotely monitor the Activated peoples’ HUDs. "It's always like this. We try not to lose anyone, but the System always spits a few back who aren’t quite right."

With a wave, he gestured for me to follow him toward a pair of doors at the far end of the long room. We wove through people, including Nicholson. She was deeply engaged in a conversation with multiple other people.

Slowed by the press, I overheard part of the conversation.

"What do you mean we saw an influx of a million mana when the Event ended? It's not possible. Even if everyone returned at level thirty with legendary magic items, it wouldn't be half that high. Run that diagnostic again. And get me updated stats on our heavy hitters. We need to update their parasite code immediately."

"Immediately?" a man asked. "But I thought we were supposed to..."

"The System loves to throw extra Events when strange things happen," Nicholson cut the person off sharply. "We want to get everyone their updates installed before we get another curve ball."

I didn't hear the end of the conversation as Vince and I exited the area, emerging into a series of twisting corridors flanked by numbered doors.

As we walked, he twisted to look at me. "You had a hard one, didn't you?"

I blinked, uncertain how to answer the question. Part of me wanted to point out that I wasn't one of the people screaming. Then again, beneath the layers of blood, my legs probably looked like they'd suffered at least second-degree burns.

"Could have been worse," I said, even though I couldn't imagine how. "And you?"

He laughed the question off. "The System loves to give us a hard time. It's just the nature of the job. I didn’t get a hard quest, so I’ve been back long enough to mostly heal up."

“The Events take different times for different people?” I asked.

“Sure. Liminal time remains mostly intact. If you complete your quest quickly, you’re back that fast. If you go over for a year, the System will pull you back a bit sooner. We’re not sure how it does that. But it won’t break physics. Some lucky folks get healing quests and are back in minutes.”

Now that was interesting.

Passing through the doors, a gust of refreshing, cold air hit me. I looked up, surprised to see a sky full of stars. "How long was I gone?"

"Around seven hours," he said, gesturing to the big administrative building we'd seen upon first arrival. Despite the time, people were moving about the camp, rushing between buildings. These weren't just medical officers but regular, un-Activated troops.

We began to make our way through the throng, my head whipping around as I took in the interior layout. "What are all these people doing?"

"It takes all kinds of support to keep this place operational," was all he said.

Halfway to the building, I noticed how fast we were traveling. It didn't feel like I was moving faster, not consciously, anyway. My body just moved differently now with perfect balance and sure footing. I even had to slow my breathing, not because I was winded, but because I wasn't.

It was a weird realization, one that sent a chill down my spine. I didn't just have enhanced senses—my entire body was transformed. Before I'd been fit enough, but now I was on another level entirely.

"Will everyone back there survive?" I asked as we neared the admin building.

"Probably. If they’ve got curses or afflictions we can’t remove, we take them to a no-mana area and they will fall off. Once that’s taken care of, we pull them back in here and they recover, same as you did. Even in low mana zones everyone here recovers fast enough to mend a broken bone in hours."

The administration building loomed ahead, all harsh lines and reinforced structure. We hit the entrance at full speed, barely slowing as we stepped inside. A young woman in uniform sat at the front desk, her back straight, her eyes snapping up as we approached.

Vince barely gave her time to open her mouth. "He asked to debrief Recruit Williams personally. Tell me he's ready for us."

The receptionist's cheeks darkened slightly. "I, uh..."

The door behind her cracked open before she could stammer out anything else.

"Vince?" Commander Dennings' voice carried through the space, sharp and no-nonsense. She stuck her head out, eyes scanning before locking onto me. "Ah. There you are. Congratulations on surviving your first Event. Now, get your ass in here and report."

Chapter 22: Counterstrike

The office was small, with a plain metal desk at the back, sandwiched between old-style filing cabinets. Sitting behind the desk was a 30-something guy with a thinning hairline. He appeared soft, very much someone who spent his days behind a computer. A pair of gold leaves decorated his shoulder and his nametape read Tucker.

In front of his desk, there were two chairs. Commander Dennings occupied one of them.

Walking into the room, my attention was immediately drawn to Dennings. She radiated palpable warmth, intense enough to make me sweat a little. Coming to stand beside me, I felt a similar sensation from Vince, although to a much lesser degree; a torch in comparison to her bonfire.

Tucker didn't have it at all.

"Well? You aren't going to get a second invitation," Dennings remarked, her tone sharp.

Vince approached and saluted. Dennings rolled her eyes and Tucker said, "At ease, gunny."

At the exchange, a flash of memory caught me. I couldn't help but ask, "Gunny? Isn't that a Marine Corps thing? And there's Majors, and Captains, and Commanders. Just what funny command structure do you all have here?"

I didn't add the fact that my brother had run us through an elaborate military simulation once. It was the wrong audience for that sort of detail.

Vince glanced toward the two officers to see if they wanted him to answer, but Tucker took over. "First off, I'm Major Phil Tucker. Welcome to the SAO. It’s nice to meet you, recruit."

"SAO?"

Dennings rolled her eyes. “It’s a joke some non-Activated people use. They call themselves ‘NAPs’ and we’re System Activated Operatives. And to answer your question, we come from all over. Counterstrike is an amalgam of every branch of the Service, including some foreign ones. There’s been talk about retrofitting the entire command structure, but some bureaucrats in Washington keep arguing about what it should be.”

Vince chimed in, “It’s a joke because SAO is also an acronym for...”

I cut him off, "Yeah, yeah. Sword Art Online. My brother was always talking about anime. I guess that makes sense." Then something else hit me and I realized what I was feeling. I looked directly at Major Tucker and said, "You aren't Activated are you?"

He frowned and for a second, his face flushed red as if I'd said something to trigger him.

Dennings interjected. "The Major is a combat veteran. Former fighter pilot. He’s not Activated and that’s on purpose. There are ways to avoid getting pulled into an Event, but not until you’re high enough of a level. That means we keep non-Activated in the loop at all critical junctures. Tucker oversees this base and handles all the hard conversations with the bureaucrats, while I have jurisdiction over field deployments.”

Eyes narrowing with frustration, the Major cut in. “One thing you need to remember is that you Activated people aren’t like the rest of us. Our regular staff keeps things moving, but all it takes is one accidental fireball from one of your kind and half a building goes up in smoke.”

Commander Dennings glanced over at the man. “Easy, Tuck. Remember, he’s new.” Her words were soft, but her tone was firm.

He gave her a grudging nod, ending whatever else he’d been about to say.

It didn’t take psychic powers to sense history between the two. Barely suppressing a yawn, I tried my best, "Yes, sir. I’ll remember." It probably emerged a little more casually than intended.

Softening her lecturing tone, Dennings went on, "SAO Williams, you'll get a proper briefing tomorrow. I know you're tired and you've been through a lot. How about you go ahead and walk us through everything that happened? Start to finish. Don't leave any details out if you can help it.”

"Can't I just be Dean? I don't even own military fatigues yet. Not to mention..." I gestured down at myself, feeling the need to remind all of them that I was covered in blood. Of course, Dennings and Vince both displayed signs of their adventures, too, but it wasn't much of a comparison.

Vince's hand was almost fully recovered, and Dennings looked perfectly fine with no hint of what her Event had included.

She nodded. Then, as if speaking to herself she mumbled, "Why do the most promising ones always have attitude?" She shook her head and focused on me again. "Go ahead, Dean."

"Alright. Well, my tutorial started in a cave, then my guide showed up." I described him, then went through how I’d applied the bean, which earned laughs from both Vince and Dennings.

“We’re calling the beans ‘Bolt Cutters’, just so you know,” Dennings said, eyes dancing with amusement. “The System infects people, changes how they behave. The Cutters have a little organic code that we hoped would give adventurers their free will back.”

“Dennings,” Tucker snapped. “That’s Classified, and those things cost five million a piece to produce. That he even had one without my personal authorization is a problem.”

I looked from the Major to the Commander, feeling the earlier tension rise.

Dennings snorted, addressing me in an almost casual tone. “Tucker and a lot of people he reports to don’t necessarily trust us. Some of them see us as weapons, not people.”

“If our parasite injections fail, every single one of you could come under System control in an instant,” the Major retorted. “And we shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of a new recruit. Dean, move on. You freed the guide’s mind. What happened next?”

I walked through what happened, including how I’d acquired the relics. That earned more comments. Apparently, Mana Sensitivity wasn’t entirely unknown, but for me to use it the way I had, with the guide’s help, was unique.

Tucker and Dennings kept sharing looks, the man seeming uncomfortable, while the Commander’s approval only grew with each word.

“And then I figured out how to access a Void mission,” I said.

The shift in the room was immediate.

Vince went rigid, and Tucker went from thoughtfully frowning to outright scowling. Dennings, though—she just stared at me for a long moment before leaning back in her chair. "You're shitting me."

I shook my head. "Nope."

First, she looked at Vince, "I thought you said he understood the lore."

The Marine held his palms up in a gesture of helplessness. "Seemed like he did to me, but there's no accounting for poor judgment."

"We've theorized those existed," she muttered. "A handful of obscure readings, some anomalies in mission logs, but we've never had confirmation."

"Well, you do now," I stated.

"And I'm going to ask you all about that, but first, what possessed you to choose a Void quest? You might think you know what's going on. A lot of people with the lore do. But this isn't a game. Your life is on the line every single Event. Why would you make it worse?"

I exhaled, crossing my arms. "Like I said about the chests. The System rewarded me whenever I did something unusual. I did something unusual and got a reward."

Tucker opened his mouth, bit off what he'd been about to say, then tried again. "It was your choice. Sure. But you’ve got to realize how much you put at risk with that choice. We could have made dozens of SAOs with the canisters Dennings routed to you. If you die being brash or stupid, it costs all of us. You're going to need to re-think your approach, now that you're part of something bigger."

Looking over at the guy, I bit back an angry retort, but only barely. My hand, the one with the scars, twitched, fingers curling. A part of me wanted to tell him I’d just saved an entire city from a nightmarish invasion, but I managed to keep that thought to myself.

Dennings waved at me. "Look at this guy. Just Activated, barely able to stand from exhaustion, and going toe-to-toe with leadership already. Dean, I'm either gonna love you or kill you."

Vince folded his arms. "Okay. Fine. So at this point, you had two relics and some magic items. What about the Void tutorial? What did that entail?”

I went through it, glossing over details about how I’d killed the Summanati. "And then there was the Unforged rod thing. I pulled it out of this vat of molten steel. It sort of...welded to me, I guess. The runes are still in my palm." I displayed the skin, showcasing the intricate patterns seared into it.

The Commander looked at my palm, scarred face creased with worry, although she didn’t say anything for several long seconds. “Let me get this straight: you went to a frontier world, then went toe-to-toe with multiple System Activated adventurers?"

Her tone caught me off guard; there was some hidden meaning behind what she was saying. "Yeah. Isn't that how these things work?"

Vince replied, "Not until you're level ten or above. The System basically disables adventurer-versus-adventurer quests until then. For you to have to go out and face that degree of operation when it believes you're level zero...it's unheard of."

I laughed. It probably came out the wrong way. "It's fine. I handled it."

"You handled it," Tucker repeated. For some reason, I thought he sounded kind of...scared. "You came back with three relics on the same night we saw a transfer of a million fucking mana into our base. And you stand there, telling me you just handled it like it's normal?"

Dennings held a hand up, but I ignored it.

"I handled it," I repeated, matching the commanding officer's gaze. "What did you expect me to do? Go over there and do nothing? Those people needed help. And other people needed killing. So, I fucking killed the bad guys."

It took me a bit too long to notice that I'd gotten a little heated at the end there. But who were these people to question me? Or what I'd done? I'd saved people. Who gave a damn whether my enemies were adventurers or not?

Why would any of those details matter?

Dennings said, "Look, we're going to want to study those relics. If you got a rod associated with a Daemon, we need to perform an analysis on it. If we have time before the next Event, we’ll want to see if there’s a safe way to get it out of your storage bag. If not, the next time you go on an Event, leave it out when you transfer back. Okay?"

"Sure. I can do that." I frowned, thinking about the rod and my experiences on the other side. The different types of magic, System and 'old' or whatever, stood out as the most obvious. "I've got questions. Is now the time to ask them?"

"No," Tucker stated. "You just got here. We need to get you cleaned up and a bunk. Tomorrow, you'll meet your personal trainers, along with the platoon you're being assigned to."

"Assigned?"

"You'll be part of a SAO unit, where you can pick up the skills you'll need to survive," Vince explained. "All the levels and relics in the world won't keep you alive if you don't actually know how to use them."

"Okay. Sure."

Tucker's chair creaked as he sat back, apparently comfortable now that the topic had cooled off. "You SAO people all get special training. You'll have regular people in your chain of command. Field experts who can teach you the sorts of tactical weapons you're likely to encounter in the field. I expect you to show them the same respect you show other SAO folk."

The talk about 'showing respect' made sense to one part of me. To the rest? I was too tired to care. Biting back an urge to remind them all that I was an Apocalypse BREAKER, not some asshole for them to just order around, I simply nodded.

He seemed to take my silence as acquiescence, which was fine by me.

Dennings said, "Vince will see you to your dorm and get you set up. Tomorrow, you’ll meet the people we're going to assign you as personal instructors. They will be the ones who are responsible for making sure you perform up to our standards."

Coming to his feet, Vince gestured at the door. We exited the building, and he patted me on the shoulder, laughing. "You're just gonna love Marvick and Chantal."

Chapter 23: Rest and Acclimate

The debriefing hadn't been anything like I expected, but that was par for the course. As Vince once more took the lead away from the admin building, I said, "Please tell me it’s time for a shower and a meal?"

He gestured to a distant series of buildings. “Got it in one. Shower, grub, and rack time. In that order. While you’re cleaning up, I’ll see about getting you some new clothes delivered. Looks like you’re about an XXL now, right?”

I glanced down, still uncertain about the degree of my transformation. “Sure.”

The base was laid out in a grid pattern, with several curved buildings I took to be barracks along one side of the square. He took us toward a row of flat-topped structures away from those. They reminded me a bit of long-term storage units; just rectangles of metal with air conditioning units bolted to the side.

“Barracks are for NAPs,” he explained. “Unless they are ranking, that is. SAOs get proper rooms, dorm style.”

“Doesn't that cause tension?”

“I’m sure.”

About halfway to the SAO buildings, I asked, “How often does shit like that happen?”

"Events seem mostly randomized, but..."

"No, I mean go explain myself to the officers?"

He cut me a wry grin. "Look at you, more worried about talking to people than you are about fighting monsters."

“One of those two is straightforward. Besides, when I make a mistake fighting some monster, the results are obvious. People tend to be messier.”

"Well, the Major's pretty solid even if he is Chairforce. He really focuses on equipping the SAOs and making sure they get the best training and resources he can."

"And Dennings?"

The expression on Vince's face shifted with that question. "Dennings is as good of a commander as I've ever served under and that's saying a lot, considering she's Navy. Jokes aside, I'd follow that woman to hell and back, sorta already have."

We came to a halt at a door with the number B106 on it.

He said, "This is yours. This is building B, as you might have figured out from the numbering. Get a shower and I'll have some uniforms and chow delivered to your room. Don't get used to that, though. Just consider it special treatment on your first big day."

With a wave, he turned and walked hurriedly away.

I wasn't quite sure what to say, so I mumbled a thank you, nodded my head and grabbed the door handle.

Tch.

The metal made a soft clicking sound.

Frowning, I looked down, releasing the knob to see small indentations where I’d squeezed too hard.

“Damn,” I muttered, thinking about my new Strength attribute. This was going to take some getting used to. For the first time I was glad that I'd only gotten three levels installed, not twenty.

B106 was small. Not unlivable, but definitely built for function over comfort. A single bed was tucked against the far wall, the white sheets and green blanket pulled tight in a military-perfect fold. A small table sat near the opposite side, two plain chairs positioned around it. A wooden dresser, that had to have been around since the Cold War, stood next to a metal locker-style wardrobe. The walls were bare concrete blocks, painted the same dull gray as the rest of the base. A wooden door on the side wall was ajar, revealing a closet for a bathroom.

There were no decorations or personal touches of any sort. For some odd reason, that made me miss mom and dad. No, I mentally corrected. It made me miss home. Made me think of how things had been, and everything that had changed since...

Yeah.

The same old memory.

Stilling myself, I exhaled then took a deep breath. The distant sounds of the base, of people moving machinery around or talking washed over me, calming some emotions while aggravating others. With the low-level itch of my magical items, I felt confident that living here was going to be one near-constant headache.

That wouldn’t be good for my mood.

The thought was a wry one.

I stripped off my gear, starting with the vambraces, belt and necklace, setting them down on the table. My shredded clothes followed, the torn fabric peeling away in stiff, blood-crusted strips. The remnants of my pants had held together, barely, but only because of the dried gore caking the fabric. My boots had a little char on the bottom, but were otherwise entirely unharmed. Despite their ridiculous name, the magical items clearly lived up to their ‘relic’ status.

I looked over the gear, noting the dark stains, the dried blood, the grime from the battlefield. I should clean those. But after a second, I shook my head. Later.

Right now, I needed to get the last of the filth off me.

The bathroom came with a stand-up shower, a plain sink, and a toilet. A stack of towels sat on a built-in shelf next to the shower, along with neatly arranged bottles of soap and shampoo. On the sink, I found an unopened toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and a plastic hairbrush. Standard issue, apparently.

I turned on the water, waiting for it to warm up as I stepped under the fluorescent glow of the light. Glancing up, I froze.

The mirror above the sink reflected back someone both familiar and alien.

It wasn't Dean. Well, it wasn't the Dean who'd woken up yesterday. I was utterly transformed.

The first thing I noticed was the sheer size of me. My shoulders had widened, chest expanded, and arms were corded with muscle that hadn't existed before. Even my height appeared different, though it was hard to be sure with nothing to measure against. A layer of dried crimson coated nearly every inch of visible skin, giving me the appearance of some kind of primeval warrior.

Years of martial arts and being relatively active, when the headaches allowed, had kept me fit. But this was next level shit.

With the layer of dried blood and the impossibly defined musculature, I looked like Drax the Destroyer, or maybe Conan the Barbarian. My physique was half fitness model and half powerlifter, with something vaguely... primal about the person staring back at me. My face had changed too, though subtly—with slightly sharper features, a more defined jawline.

If this was what I was like with a hundred in each Attribute, what the hell would I become at level twenty?

A small, insistent voice in the back of my mind whispered that this was just the beginning. I'd gotten a taste of power and now I could feel the hunger for more. I told myself it was different from what the System wanted. I was using this power to stop it. But standing there, looking at the stranger in the mirror, I wondered if that was really true or just what I needed myself to believe.

Shaking off the thought, I stepped into the shower.

The water was hot and as soon as it hit my skin, the filth started to wash away. Blood—some mine, some not—swirled down the drain, the red fading into rust-colored streaks before vanishing entirely. I scrubbed myself down, wincing as my fingers brushed bruises I hadn't even noticed before. My body still ached, but compared to what I'd felt earlier, it was nothing.

As I lathered the shampoo into my hair, my mind drifted, allowing the flashing in the corner of my eye to draw my attention. What I saw was pretty straightforward. I'd gained three levels, which meant I had forty-five attribute points to spend. My first question was whether I should do that now or wait for someone to give me some guidance.

Someone growled.

It took me a beat to realize it was coming from my throat. A second later, I realized why.

The idea of letting someone tell me what to do with what I’d earned, after what I’d gone through to earn it, did a lot more than annoy me. It made my fingers curl, my palm itching for the Unforged Rod or maybe a knife.

I’d killed for what I’d become. Without my help, people would have died. I was the first Apocalypse BREAKER and I wasn’t about to let someone dictate how I should use my rewards.

Focusing on the points, I could feel the raw potential hanging in the air, waiting for me to decide where it went. It was a weird sensation, almost like knowing you had an extra limb but not moving it.

My HUD appeared and I found the attributes section.

Current Attributes:

Strength – 100

Endurance – 100

Grace – 100

Focus – 100

Mind – 100

Perception – 100

Attunement – 117

Point Available to Allocate: 45

The screen also gave me access to the tutorial information about each attribute. I might have been impulsive, but I wasn’t about to go dumping points randomly without reviewing the options first. Taking a quick detour through the sentence or two for each attribute, I asked myself which updates would have the most impact.

Apocalypse BREAKER benefited most from Strength and Attunement, but that didn’t make all the other stats less useful. Years of gaming with my brother had taught me that..

Perception, for example, had already proven incredibly useful. To balance that, there was a downside, at least in the short term, for enhancing an attribute quickly. I thought about the door handle, and couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d had a 200 Strength instead of 100.

I pondered as I rinsed off, letting the water continue to warm until it was scalding hot. Despite recent events involving molten metal, or whatever that stuff had been, it felt good. Like I was finally getting clean.

Replaying everything I’d done, I tried to assess whether those forty-five points would have made a difference in any of it, from the combats to the quests.

The problem was, I simply didn’t know.

Attunement would probably help with managing magical items and the Override Engine trait, making me more resistant to the effects that were constantly irritating my skin. The extra magic resistance seemed worth it given how many mages appeared to be running around. Plus, I liked the idea of learning spells.

Then again, most of my perks were still unclaimed, and Destructive had been useful, but I wasn't convinced maxing out for more perks was the right call yet.

That pushed me to think about the biggest problem I'd had during all of the battles—namely, almost dying repeatedly. Points in Endurance would clearly help with that. I could make arguments for Strength or Grace as well, especially after seeing how much raw power Vek had brought to bear.

My finger traced across the scars on my palm left by the Unforged Rod. A subtle itch crawled up from them, not painful but noticeable. My relics were largely dormant here, but I could still feel their presence pulsing with subdued energy. The vambraces and necklace continued to irritate my skin even from the other room, a constant reminder of what I now carried within me.

The decision came slowly, but when it came it was decisive. I needed more Endurance, more Strength, and more Attunement. Balance had made sense in the beginning, but now I needed to lean in. My theory was that Attunement would help with the magic items I'd gained so far as well as future ones.

It might have been a copout, but I just split the forty-five three ways and applied them to the three stats in question. A jolt of painful, biting energy ran down my spine, nearly costing my footing.

Note to self: remember to apply stat points sitting down.

I pressed both hands out against the tile of the shower and held myself firm as my body shook. It took all my focus, but living with migraines had given me a tight reign on my body during times of stress.

Fortunately, it all happened in under a minute. Compared to what a base, normal human would have it was a massive change, but in comparison to the first, this was barely noticeable.

I got out of the shower, inspecting my body. My muscles looked bigger... maybe... or it could just be that I had a really good pump now. Endurance was harder to quantify. I couldn't say that my body had become more durable or anything. I could only say that I felt more solid. As for Attunement, that was more mystic shit, and I was still wrapping my head around it.

I took a quick glance at my new stats.

Strength – 115

Endurance – 115

Grace – 100

Focus – 100

Mind – 100

Perception – 100

Attunement – 132

It didn't look as if it had made that much of a difference, but I could feel it.

Knock, Knock!

Grabbing a towel that was, thankfully, oversized, I wrapped it around my hips securely and made my way to the door.

There was a guy who couldn't have been much older than me. He was in fatigues and stood there with a bundle of uniforms on hangers with a transparent plastic cover like they just came from a dry cleaner. "Dean Williams?"

I nodded. "Just Dean. Those for me?"

"Gunny said that you didn't need boots, but I've got three standard issue uniforms, socks, skivvies, and so on. You can wear any of your magical gear while on the base or during a System Event, but you need permission to wear magical items off base."

“Sure.” I accepted the bag and waited for him to turn away before closing the door.

Taking the bag to the table, I opened it, half-hoping there’d be some sort of food. As if to punctuate the thought, my stomach made a sound that was at least half-dinosaur. It reminded me that I’d vomited up most of what I’d had to eat that day.

The bag had everything he’d listed, including the new fatigues. I dressed quickly, spent several minutes figuring out how to roll the sleeves up to match Vince’s, and even more time getting the cuffs right over my boots. I even went into my HUD and changed the relic’s appearance to match standard military-issue.

To my surprise (and delight) that still worked, even in the low-magic area.

Knock Knock.

“This better be food,” I muttered, hurrying to the door.

It was the same woman I'd seen in the medical section. She was all cleaned up and I couldn't even tell that she'd been through a System Event earlier, but there was no mistaking her. She was definitely a SAO.

I could feel the hum of mana in her.

She was holding a tray of food that was heaping to the point of overflow. She thrust it out to me, and I quickly grabbed it. When she spoke it was with a soft French accent. "I'm sure you were already told that you shouldn't expect your food to be delivered to the barracks..."

I nodded and cut her off, "Yeah, yeah, but I'm sorta surprised that you're delivering it?"

"Why? Because I'm an officer?"

"No, because you're an SAO. The Major seemed to suggest NAPs did the mundane stuff around here."

She gave me a flat look. "Guessing is a bad habit, one that could get you killed. One that could get the people around you killed."

Her tone, maybe the delivery, made my hackles rise, but I bit them back. “Sure. No problem. No guessing.”

Her eyes narrowed. "I can't wait to conduct your assessment in the morning." Then she pivoted on her heels and moved away at a brisk walk.

I wasn't gonna lie to myself. I didn't mind watching her walk away, but then hunger called to me and I was in the room, devouring everything she'd brought. The biggest shocker? The food was actually decent. Not gourmet, but solid comfort food.

After that, I practically collapsed on top of my bed, exhaustion finally getting the better of me. My last thought was that the migraine had never fully materialized.

Chapter 24: Assessment

I woke in darkness, to the sound of people moving outside. Lying there, inhaling the unfamiliar air, I decided it was time to assess more than my body. Taking slow, deep breaths, I welcomed whatever emotions or sensations might come.

There was nothing.

To my mild disbelief, nothing felt wrong at all. My dreamless sleep left no trace of nightmares about blood-soaked fukuu or dying Summanati. No migraine hammered at my temples, though something lurked in the wings, a shadow of pain waiting for its moment.

“I killed people,” I said out loud, tasting the words, waiting for the ramifications to strike home.

There was only cold, clinical acceptance.

Not that it didn't matter—just that it had been necessary. The System's rules offered no room for hesitation or second thoughts. My choices had been simple: kill or be killed.

I couldn’t think about the other worlds and not remember my brother. His speech about being a hero still struck a chord. I doubted it would ever stop mattering. But I wasn’t him, and I wasn’t the person he’d wanted me to be.

The choices I’d made had saved lives. They’d also been precisely the ones I had to make to survive, and I wouldn’t apologize for that. In my mind’s eye, Brian was there, standing just beyond the foot of the bed, looking at me with an unreadable expression.

“This is for me to live on my terms.” I laughed, realizing I was talking to an imaginary ghost.

Blinking away the moment, I pushed to my feet. The body that responded was foreign, yet familiar, like a well-made tool finally being used for its intended purpose. Every motion came with increased energy and latent, destructive power. Learning this new physicality would take time, but it already felt more natural than yesterday.

As if my words had been some sort of trigger, I spotted the backpack I’d brought from home next to the door. I hadn’t noticed it yesterday, and seeing it, knowing what was inside, gave me something to look forward to if I had some downtime.

I dressed quickly, adding my magical gear on top of the fatigues. The vambraces slid against my forearms with a whisper of leather, the necklace's weight settled into place, and the belt cinched comfortably around my waist. My boots embraced my feet like a second skin, looking as if yesterday's events had been nothing but a bad dream.

That familiar itching flared along my arms and neck, though not quite as intensely as before. Whether the extra Attunement points had helped, or if I was simply growing accustomed to the sensation remained unclear. Either way, the irritation paled in comparison to other pains I'd endured.

Geared up, I walked to the door. This time, the metal didn’t bend beneath my grip. I counted that as progress. Even if a hundred in Intelligence didn’t provide me with perfect recall, I suspected it was helping with other things, such as picking up new tricks quickly.

What was it that the System had said about humans? Something about how we were highly adaptable?

The crisp morning air greeted me as I stepped outside. Counterstrike base buzzed with activity—the rhythm of boots striking gravel, the distant crack of a firing range, voices barking orders across the compound. The sky stretched pale blue overhead, bathing everything in early light that almost made it possible to forget this place existed to prepare for war.

A passing soldier, barely older than me, responded to my question about the mess hall with a dismissive thumb-jerk over his shoulder. "Other side of the barracks, past the main quad. Can't miss it."

Following his directions, I navigated between buildings, my enhanced sense of smell making tracking the aroma of frying bacon comically easy. The mess hall loomed ahead, a utilitarian structure with double doors propped open to the morning breeze. Inside, the scent intensified—eggs, bacon, coffee, and something vaguely sweet that made my stomach clench with anticipation.

The room teemed with people. Around thirty SAOs mingled with an equal number of non-activated personnel, the distinction between them obvious. It wasn't just their appearance or that I could sense the mana pulsing within the Activated—it was how they carried themselves, with an assurance that bordered on arrogance. They moved through the space like apex predators comfortable in their territory, unconcerned with proving their dominance.

My tray collected a mountain of eggs, toast, bacon, and hash browns, my appetite apparently super-sized along with everything else. Adding several protein bars for later was likely prudent—my new body clearly burned fuel at an accelerated rate.

Finding an empty table near the far wall, I dropped into a chair and began to eat, conscious of the eyes tracking my movement.

"That's the new guy, right?"

"Heard he just got in last night."

"I heard he looked like a bloody nightmare after the event."

The whispers flowed around me,water around a stone. Most stemmed from idle curiosity, people assessing a newcomer. That was fine—I wasn't here to make friends.

With my plate nearly empty, a group approached my table. Four SAOs, all radiating that easy confidence that came from knowing they could break most people without breaking a sweat. Their ranks, displayed on their Army fatigues, appeared identical.

Perhaps this was the infamous 'E-4 mafia' from all those memes my brother used to share.

The leader, tall with sharp features and a practiced smirk, pulled out a chair. Turning it backward, he straddled it with arms crossed over the backrest.

"So," he said, "is it true that you killed Vek?"

Chewing the last bite of toast, I swallowed deliberately before answering. "Had help."

"That's not what I heard."

A shrug rolled off my shoulders. "Don't really care what you heard. I just wanna eat and then get assessed."

One of the guys in the back chuckled. "Ah, you'll just love Chantal. Don't get caught staring at her, though."

Someone coughed behind them.

The group tensed, then straightened, schoolboys caught slacking.

"Sorry, Ma'am," they muttered, almost in unison.

Looking past them, I saw Chantal standing there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. She was exactly as I remembered from last night—sharp-eyed, effortlessly in control, giving off the kind of presence that made it clear she didn't tolerate bullshit. The mana signature radiating from her was stronger than the others, a controlled simmer rather than their tepid glow.

She ignored the guys and looked straight at me. "You ready to go?"

A glance at my tray revealed one last bite of eggs, a scrap of toast, a smear of syrup. "Looks like it."

"Good. Come with me."

Standing, I pushed my chair back and followed her out of the mess hall. The guys who'd been questioning me stepped aside quickly, their earlier cockiness having evaporated in her presence.

Chantal set a brisk pace, leading me across the base toward a squat, reinforced, three-story building near the edge of the training grounds. Something about her stride told me she could move much faster if she wanted—this pace was a courtesy.

As we approached, I took in the structure's details—thick walls, reinforced seams, heavy-duty doors, like a bunker. The low-pitched hum of mana emanated from within, setting my teeth slightly on edge.

"Little overkill, isn't it?" I nodded toward the building.

She gave me a side eye. "Adjust your expectations. I hear you know the lore, right?”

“A bit.”

“Imagine a place where Space Marines go to train.”

Thinking about that nearly made me laugh until I saw her expression. She was serious.

Chantal pointed up and to the left, as if indicating my HUD. “You’ve been through the tutorial.”

“Yeah.”

“Think about the sort of forces someone with a hundred-and-twenty strength can bring to bear. We’re talking about crushing cinder blocks with a punch. This is one of the few places on Earth where we can properly test and train Activated people without it getting messy. At your current level, even with your attributes, you should be able to cut loose."

Glancing back at the building, I considered that. Cut loose, huh? The prospect sent a current of anticipation through my veins. "What about at your level?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Look, everyone in your command structure is going to have access to your HUD readings, but just as you don't ask a lady her age, you don't ask your fellow SAO about their levels. Hopefully, there will be people that we team you up with and you'll probably share with them. Otherwise, everyone keeps it close to the vest. Rank in the SAO is determined by competence and achievement, not by how big of a sword you can swing around.”

"That said, training groups can be important. We can't control where you're sent on a System Event, but training enough with a given group seems to enhance the odds that you'll be sent to the same world. Shared quests are a thing here and knowing someone has your back is good."

Chantal led me inside, and it was immediately clear that her explanation had been an honest one. The main room was huge—easily the size of a gymnasium, but instead of polished hardwood floors, the ground was solid stone. Thick, gray, and covered in a web of faint cracks, it had been abused repeatedly. Sections of the floor were padded with dense, worn-out mats, while others had scorch marks and deep gouges.

Weapons lined the walls in organized racks. Not just traditional melee weapons—though there were plenty of those, from swords to axes to staves—but bows, crossbows, and even modern military firearms. Bladed weapons gleamed under the fluorescent lights, some of them still marred with nicks and scratches. Everything was laid out with meticulous care, yet the sheer variety made it clear that this place was meant for more than just conventional training.

The mana concentration here was slightly denser, and felt a bit like walking into an electrified mist. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly, but my skin prickled with awareness, the air tasting of ozone and possibility.

My HUD popped up with an updated Mana Zone reading.

Low Mana Enhancement Area Active: Mana recovery increased to 50% of normal. Standard low mana zone restrictions apply.

In the center of the room, two teams of four SAOs were locked in combat. They weren't just brawling. This was sparring—organized, coordinated, fast. Each team worked as a unit, moving in sync, using blunted training weapons. Even with my relatively untrained eye, I got the feeling they were barely pulling their blows.

No doubt the heightened mana coupled with SAO recovery speed made full contact training safer.

I watched as a staff-wielding man, his motions fluid, deflected a sword strike and countered with a precise sweep at his opponent's legs. Another held twin daggers, ducking under a wild swing before launching into a rapid series of jabs.

But it wasn't just melee.

A man near the back of the skirmish flicked his wrist, and a fiery whip coiled into existence, snapping through the air as he lashed at the other team. His opponents scrambled to adjust, one raising a shield that shimmered faintly with mana, blocking the flame with a burst of blue light.

Then another soldier made a subtle motion with his fingers—and suddenly, one of the opposing fighters froze mid-swing.

His expression twisted in confusion before his body betrayed him, spinning on his own teammates and barreling into them, like a human battering ram. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, swearing as they tried to right themselves. A second later, the influence broke, and the man shook his head, face contorted with frustration.

Chantal brought us to a halt at the edge of the lined practice area, motioning for me to stand quietly and watch. I wasn't the only spectator. Across the room, standing with his arms crossed, was a middle-aged man who looked as if he could bench press a tank.

His skin was dark, almost obsidian-black, his head clean-shaven, his frame packed with muscle. It struck me that he looked like what I imagined would happen if a fitness influencer ate another one to steal their power. Wearing standard-issue fatigues, the olive-green, short-sleeved shirt rode up at the biceps, the fabric having long since abandoned any hope of remaining in place.

On top of all the physical presence, he radiated power.

My eyes snapped to him like the guy had an aura designed to draw my attention, and I felt an uncomfortable warmth radiating all the way across the building. It was unlike anything I’d felt, albeit not nearly as menacing as the Daemon during the Void tutorial quest.

I looked over at Chantal, about to ask a question and she shook her head as if reading my thoughts.

“Marvick’s got a passive ability that functions in low mana zones. It amplifies his presence and draws attention. On deployments, it pulls monsters to him. He keeps it on during training matches to make sure everyone listens when he gives orders.”

“He’s a taunt-based tank?” I said, describing someone whose job it was to draw enemies away from the front-line fighters or damage dealing mages.

“Basically.”

The match ended a moment later.

The second team managed to recover quickly from their momentary betrayal, launching a counterattack that overwhelmed the first. The man watching them—who I assumed had to be their instructor—raised a hand and barked, "Match over. Second team, victory."

He had a thick accent, one I couldn’t place.

Lowering their weapons, panting, the fighters stepped back as Marvick came forward. His voice carried easily, deep and commanding. "Good work this morning. Help your friends up, clear the floor. We've got a new recruit to assess."

The soldiers obeyed without question, moving off to the edges of the arena. Even as they tended to each other, they lingered, their curiosity obvious.

Chantal led me forward. "Captain Marvick," she said, nodding toward the massive man. "This is Dean Williams. He just completed his first System Event, although, I'm sure you've read his debriefing notes and the updates to his HUD."

Marvick turned his attention to me. His gaze was sharp, assessing, and for a long moment, he didn't say anything. I had the distinct impression I was being weighed and measured.

Then he nodded. "Welcome to Counterstrike. I hear you've been face to face with a dragon, too."

"Too? I take it you have as well."

He just looked at me, muscles in his jaw flexing. “Show me you can put three hundred percent into your training, and we can swap a few stories. Is that clear, recruit?”

Yet again, I was reminded of the gifts I’d been given. No, I mentally corrected, the gifts I earned. A bit of frustration might have leaked out as I retorted, “Crystal clear. Are we going to do this or not?”

Marvick frowned, then grunted a laugh. "Dennings was right about you. Lieutenant, please explain what our new recruit needs to do."

"First test is simple," Chantal continued. "You're going to fight Captain Marvick. No weapons. Boxing, martial arts, wrestling—it's all allowed. But no weapons."

I frowned. "You mean no magic gear?"

Chantal shook her head. "No, we want you to fight with it. Otherwise, we won't get an accurate read on what you can actually do in the field. Anything other than a weapon that you'd be wearing in the field is allowed."

I glanced at Marvick. He was a brick wall, his presence crackling with restrained power. I'd just put extra points into Strength and Endurance, but something told me that wouldn't be enough to put me on his level.

Still, I wasn't about to back down. Truthfully, the thought of a fight made my hands itch. I needed this.

Stepping onto the stone floor, I rolled my shoulders and settled into a stance. Across from me, Marvick did the same—except he didn't shift much at all. Just widened his stance slightly, arms relaxed, breathing even. No tension, no wasted movement.

I got the feeling that was a bad sign for me.

"Ready?" Chantal asked.

Marvick just nodded. I did the same.

"Begin."

I didn't rush in. I'd fought before—street fights, sparring in controlled environments, even a few mixed martial arts matches. You couldn't have a temper like mine and not have been in a few scraps, but I knew better than to charge an opponent I didn't understand.

Instead, I circled. Marvick followed, mirroring my movement, giving no openings. Then he struck. A single step forward, a flicker of motion—his fist lashed out so fast I barely saw it. I flinched back, narrowly avoiding his punch. Even with an inch or two to spare, I felt the air slap across my skin.

I countered instantly, throwing a sharp jab at his ribs. He took it. Just let it hit. It was like punching Markosum’s; the man was made of stone.

He retaliated before I could register the impact.

This time, he moved in full force, closing the distance and locking up my arms in a clinch. I shifted my weight, tried to break free—but he was stronger, and not just by a little bit.

I went for leverage instead, dropping my stance and twisting, attempting a sweep. It worked—partially. He staggered, but he didn't go down. Instead, he turned the movement into his own advantage, shifting his weight and yanking me off my feet.

I hit the ground hard, but I was already rolling, using the momentum to push back onto my feet.

Marvick grunted in approval. "Good instincts.”

Then he came at me again.

We traded blows, grappling, shifting, adapting. I wasn't just fighting a powerhouse—I was fighting someone who was testing me, feeling out my reactions, seeing how I adapted. And no matter what I threw at him; I couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding back.

We went for what would have been several two-minute rounds stacked up, and I started to feel fatigued.

Finally, Marvick stepped back and held up his hand. "Good start. You've got a basic understanding of how to fight. We’ll need to work on how you compensate for all that Grace and Strength you’ve got. It’s not intuitive, but your reflexes and instincts are excellent.”

The feedback made sense, considering I’d noticed those weaknesses already. I got the feeling he was holding back though and gave him a level look. “Thanks for the flattery. I can hear the ‘but’ – what else?”

He gave me a tight smile. “Bad habits. I can see the stains of your old instructors coloring your techniques. We’ll work on that though. No problem. Now, are you ready for part two?”

Chapter 25: Poke The B...

As Marvick and I spoke, I noticed Chantal was jotting down notes on a wooden clipboard. With a pen.

What the hell?

Bemused, I blurted, "I thought you all used tablets?"

Without looking up, she kept writing. Meeting my eyes at last, her face remained impossible to read as she muttered something that sounded like "bébé."

Tilting my head to the side, I gave her a look. It probably wasn't very friendly.

She glanced from the clipboard to me, then back down, making a quick mark. "Just to be clear, you heard what I just said, didn't you?"

"Sounded like you called me a baby." Sparring with Marvick had me keyed up, adrenaline pumping. I shifted from foot to foot, an insane urge to ask her to 'assess' me barely kept in check.

Now that I'd started, I needed more. Marvick was stronger, harder, and more skilled. A raw, bestial thing inside me told me that everything was not as it appeared. That I could change the odds.

That I could beat him, just as I'd beat Markosum. All I had to do was stop holding back.

Apparently unaware of the heat growing inside my chest, Chantal explained, "You are a bébé. That's not a bad thing though. Everyone starts out knowing nothing. I called you that because you're fumbling around, trying to understand the world. I use a clipboard instead of a tablet because I believe in keeping a physical copy. You Americans and your technology—very efficient until it isn't. I've seen firsthand how badly the System can screw with tech. These are my personal notes on you. I need to know what we're working with."

It made sense. But logic wouldn't stop the way I felt. "What's next?"

Marvick crossed his arms across his chest. The man's pecs were so robust it looked like he was about to crush two muscle-bound piglets. "Perception is different for everyone. We see your hearing is acute, but we need to find out what that hundred you put in it means for you."

"Okay. How?"

Chantal tucked the clipboard under her arm. "Kneel in the center of the room."

I raised an eyebrow. "Kneeling, huh? You guys aren't about to haze me, are you?"

Marvick snorted. "No. No games, no hazing. We need to see what you're capable of. Keep up, kid. I just told you about Perception. We need to figure out just how your stats impact you."

The 'kid' comment seemed calculated to insult. Remembering every martial arts instructor I'd ever had, I forced my anger down. I didn't enjoy it, but I made it happen. "Yes, Sir."

Saying the words was like chewing glass.

Chantal gestured impatiently. "Do as you're told."

Glass? No. It was nails. Nails in my mouth, in my throat, in my stomach. I had to fight every one of my new instincts as I exhaled and dropped to one knee, then both. The stone floor was cool beneath me, but it wasn't the cold I needed.

It hit me, finally, what was happening. I was inside a mana-rich room, but my relics weren’t active to balance things out. They weren't pouring the reassuring cold into my waist or feet to balance the itch of the other magic. What I was feeling wasn't only because my instructors were deliberately pushing me, it was literally because the itching sensation wasn't in my head.

Recognizing that helped a bit. Maybe having a higher Attunement did, too.

Adjusting my position, I tried to find my center. After a few seconds, my HUD flickered, the text burning in the darkness behind my closed lids.

Meditative State Achieved: Your combined attributes have allowed you to achieve flow. This is not a System-granted power, but it is System-augmented.

Even as I read the message, I felt the results. A voice that sounded a lot like Brian’s laughingly murmured, flame and the void, eat your heart out, as unparalleled focus stilled my thoughts.

My senses grew, expanding outward as I became the flame at the center. The anger was still there, augmented by the itching and whatever Marvick and Chantal were up to, but along with it came awareness.

I hadn't known it was possible to be both angry and aware before now. That revelation alone made the whole exercise so far feel worth it.

Over the next few seconds, I registered increasingly detailed information about the room. I sensed its vast emptiness and heard the whispers of the onlookers who'd stopped to watch the assessment. Inhaling, I smelled sweat, metal and something charred, along with the ozone-like electricity I was coming to associate with magic.

"There you are," Marvick said. "You found the center, didn't you?"

"I think so."

Behind him, Chantal made another note.

He offered me a small metal cylinder.

I took it, then examined the device. It was light, made of metal but relatively delicate. One side had a plunger-style button. I pressed it and a thin red dot appeared on the floor between my knees.

"Laser pointer?"

"This is your only tool for the next test," Marvick stated. "Close your eyes."

Clutching the pointer as firmly as I dared without crushing it, I closed my eyes. It wasn't the fight I wanted, but now that I'd found a sort of meditative equilibrium, I didn't feel as tempted to mouth off.

Click-SNAP!

The lights cut out, leaving us in total darkness. I strained to see through my eyelids, half expecting to make out the glow of an emergency light or LEDs leading to the bathroom, but there was nothing. Along with the lights, the commentators in the background went silent. Their conversation ended as if cut by a knife.

For several seconds there was no movement, no rustle of cloth, no intakes of breath.

Then came the first sound: soft footsteps from ahead and to my right.

Pivoting slightly, I aimed the laser toward the noise. The footsteps ceased immediately.

Another sound emerged from behind my left shoulder blade—a whisper so faint it might have been imagined. Swinging the pointer in that direction, I paused.

Silence answered.

Initially, the sounds appeared at predictable intervals, methodically, as if testing my limits. A gentle rustling near the room's perimeter. A faraway creak. Steady tapping. With each occurrence, I directed the pointer toward the source, and every time, the sound vanished.

Then the tempo changed.

The next sound came before I'd finished reacting to the last—a sharp whoosh of air;something had swung inches from my face. I flinched but kept my position steady as I aimed. A deep growl followed immediately, low and throaty, an animal crouched just beyond reach.

As enthralled as I'd become in the exercise, hearing that nearly made me disobey orders. Holding onto calm with the barest tips of mental fingernails, I forced myself to click the laser on the threat.

The sound ended.

This time, I became aware of subtle fluctuations in the air. It was that all-present itch that came from simply existing in the room was moving around me in deliberate patterns.

Is this someone casting a spell?

Click!

No sooner had it occurred to me than a metallic click rang out. It was the unmistakable sound of a gun safety being flicked off. I swung the pointer sharply toward it, but before I could process the silence that followed, the itch surged to my opposite side. Less than a heartbeat later, rapid steps came from that direction, sounding like someone sprinting at me.

I brought the pointer around and both the footsteps and the itching surge vanished.

After that, the pattern was gone. I thought I'd figured out how to sense the magic and anticipate the illusions, or whatever was happening, but that was disproven over the next few minutes.

Everything became chaos.

One moment there was the scrape of something sharp against stone. The next, a door was slamming closed. People muttered in half a dozen languages. Someone laughed, the sound mocking, and then birds chirped above me.

I caught one after another, pushing myself to ever-increasing speeds. Whoever was behind the test was clever: they had some of the sounds pop up beneath me, then behind, forcing me to twist and contort my body for that extra ounce of speed required to keep up.

Then there was nothing.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and I forced my breathing to slow. The sense of centering, a trick that had come almost too easily, expanded. Within a circle of calm, aware of the frustration and need to act in my body but not quite beholden to it, I felt a sense of pleasure and certainty.

I hadn't missed a single sound.

The silence dragged on.

After minutes, maybe fifteen, I felt a hint of doubt chew at the edges of my focus. Had I missed something? Changed the rules?

Then, right behind me—so close it sent electricity down my spine and sent a spike of static through my skull—I heard my name. "Dean."

I whipped the laser pointer toward the sound so fast my fingers nearly slipped. The instant I did, the lights blazed back on.

The brightness scorched my retinas, forcing a wince as my pupils constricted. A dull throb pulsated at my temples, hinting at a migraine's approach.

Slap Slap Slap!

The sound of boots, real ones this time, drew my attention before I'd had a chance to re-center myself. With the afterburn of the spell's proximity gripping my scalp, I turned to see Marvick charging at me.

He had an escrima stick, just a baton of rounded wood two feet in length, in one mitt of a hand. With a determined expression, he bellowed, "Only dodge!"

I wanted to stop him, to tell him to wait. The spell having gone off so close to my head hadn't left me itching the way the previous ones had. This was akin to putting the headdress on again. Whoever had done that literally couldn't have triggered me more.

And they had no idea.

Reacting by instinct, I contorted to dodge Marvick's first slice. The slice narrowly missed my ribs, and he brought the stick around, this time to my shoulder. I crouched, sensing the whoosh of air as it nearly smashed my skull open.

This is for real, I realized, seeing what must have been the instructor's full, frightening speed.

Even more than fast, the man was precise.

Emerging from the crouch, I backstepped to dodge a series of jabs. Left shoulder. Right shoulder. Left hip. Face. Each was designed to elicit a response, to push me into retreating further and further, all while he continued to advance on me.

I tried to find a pattern, to use every iota of what I'd gained from my stats and what I'd learned from instructors, to gain some upper hand. There was no chance. Against a man of Marvick's expertise, there was no way I could hope to adapt.

This was native talent.

Merciless, Marvick pressed on. High, low, lateral; he wove deceptions and feints into the rhythm. Second by second, my body quickly approached the limits of what stats could grant. Weaving, dipping, rotating, and even backflipping (by accident) through the onslaught, I knew a growing certainty.

I was going to lose. If this kept up, I wasn't going to simply fail; I was going to get beaten.

SMACK!

Then it happened.

With an echo of impact that could have been mistaken for a gunshot, Marvick drove his stick against my thigh, sending agony through the muscle like wildfire. The impact disrupted my flow, sending me entirely off balance. I began to fall.

SMACK!

He hit me again, this time in the ribs. With a whoosh, all the oxygen in my chest exploded through my lips, leaving me feeling disoriented and dizzy. I lurched forward, barely able to stand.

SMACK!

Again, to the chest.

A dim part of me realized that Marvick's third hit was placed specifically to keep me standing, to draw the beating out.

No.

Between the pain of the strikes, the frustration of not being able to retaliate, and the burning inside my head, there was no room for calm. A flood of sensation coursed down my spine, reaching my feet then bursting upward, until every hair on my body stood on end. Cold washed through my extremities, pushing the nagging itch of the room back.

SMACK!

Marvick's baton hit my shoulder. A gunshot? No, this was closer to a shotgun blast. The man wasn't holding back. Oddly, it was less painful than the last ones.

Show him. I will show him. The thoughts rose, so primal and savage that I felt the growl a moment before it erupted from my throat.

SMACK SMACK!

Chest, then back.

"Dodge! Keep moving! No offense, just evade!" Chantal's command was louder than it should have been and left my ears itching.

Her voice momentarily drew me out of whatever was happening to my body. I took a step back, watching Marvick's swinging baton miss my chin by less than a hair's breadth.

It would have taken my jaw off.

"Fuck. This." It wasn't my voice, but it came from my mouth. When he swung again, I brought my arm up, intercepting the weapon.

CRACK!

It shattered, splinters flying as I jammed my scarred palm down on top of the sharp, broken end still in Marvick's hand. His eyes widened as I yanked it from his grasp, flipped it around, and held it low just as I had...

"STOP!"

There was a rush of all-consuming pressure as the man's roar of command wrapped around my entire body, mimicking a vice. The utterance transcended mere vocalization. Colliding against me like a concrete barricade, infused with supernatural authority, it sought to immobilize me, to hold me in place.

I dimly heard someone in the background gasp, "Is that Marvick's Ultimate?"

It didn't matter what it was.

The asshole was just skating uphill. He'd forgotten who he was dealing with.

Cold air swirling across my skin, it was as if every cell, no, every atom, inside my body had just come into alignment as I got my first glimpse of what it meant to be the Apocalypse BREAKER.

CRUNCH!

The air crackled, popping and crackling, as two opposing forces slammed into each other. Marvick, just a few feet away, started, eyes widening as I inched forward. One step. Then another. The Unforged Rod was interstellar ice in one hand, sharp enough to cut through...

Wait.

With just that hesitation, that fluctuation of focus, Marvick's spell overwhelmed my defenses. He didn't do it with raw strength, though. I sensed the effect twist, moving at me from a different angle.

Clatter.

The broken stick hit the floor a moment before I realized I was being held in place. Then, before anything else happened, the effect ended. Released from the hold, able to breathe again, I sagged, suddenly drained as if I'd run a mile.

I was still angry, still ready to hit someone, but what had almost happened pulled me up short.

Breathing at least as heavily as I was, Marvick crossed to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Yeah. So, maybe we miscalculated a bit. That won't happen again."

"Was making me mad part of the assessment?"

Chantal replied from nearby, the sound of her writing loud in the awed silence. "It was. We had to see how easy it is to trigger you."

"And?"

She cut her eyes to me, her French accent thick, "Easier than we'd like." It was quite the understatement.

"Discipline is as important as skill," Marvick added, bending down to grab the ends of the broken sticks. The interior, I now saw, was lined with the same black alloy I’d observed around much of the base. He studied them, grunting uneasily, then carried them to a nearby rack labeled ‘repairs’. "No problem. Every new recruit has things to work on."

I started to ask another question, but Chantal cut in. "This assessment is done. We're going to need to replay the footage and run some calculations. I'll take you back to the mess now, if you're hungry again?"

"Yeah." I nodded, sweat dripping down my forehead. "That works."

Inhaling deeply, struggling to find stability again, I resisted the urge to explain myself. What they called a ‘lack of discipline’ was horseshit. Marvick had been beating me with metal rods, and now they seemed to want me to thank him for the opportunity.

I looked down at my hand, at the marks across my palm and knew just how close I’d come.

Another second or two, and I’d have jammed the end into Marvick’s eyeball.

Okay. Maybe they had a point.

Interlude: Assessment Aftermath

Commander Dennings sipped her coffee as she watched the replay of Dean's assessment. Beside her, Lieutenant Sharon McFay stared at her tablet. The woman had white hair despite being only in her mid-twenties; a result of a quest that had altered her anatomy in more ways than one.

"There. Stop." At the Commander's order, the playback paused. An overlay of images, like heat maps, appeared over Dean's body. Beside him, Marvick had frozen in mid-swing, his escrima stick chambered for his third or fourth strike on the off-balance recruit.

Dean's core had taken on a blue tint. Surrounded by the red and orange of ambient body heat and magic, it stood in stark contrast to everything else in the scene.

"It's the Override Engine activating," the Lieutenant said, glancing up. "We've seen this before, once or twice."

"And the color?"

"Different type of mana. We've seen it in relics and some older magical items. It's distinct from the System's magic, but functionally identical."

"Gotcha. This is what it looks like when Dean creates mana spontaneously."

"Correct."

Taking another sip of her coffee, the Commander glanced at the readout next to the display. Within the sparring room, they had comprehensive, real-time recording of HUD information. It listed both Dean and Marvick's attributes and active abilities.

According to the notes, Marvick had two title effects going simultaneously: Titan Killer and Avalanche. Both were among the best of any of their SAO recruits, especially for what he did.

Wait. What? Narrowing her eyes, Dennings snapped, "Lieutenant."

"Ma'am?"

"Why the fuck is Titan Killer active?"

With a couple taps, the details about the title popped up for both to review.

Titan Killer (Title)

Qualification Requirement: The System may offer this title to individuals who defeat an opponent with 600+ total points in attributes.

Rarity: High; this is one of the rarest titles an Activated may roll.

Benefits: While facing an opponent with overwhelming potential, your Strength, Endurance, and Grace scores gain a 25% enhancement. This lasts until the opponent is defeated or for 1 hour, whichever comes first.

"It must be Dean's attributes triggering it," Dennings said, pointing at the qualification. "If Marvick earned the title from defeating someone with high attributes, it stands to reason that same rule qualifies Dean."

Sharon considered for a moment, brow furrowing, then nodded. "Likely. It's a good thing you decided to send in three canisters with him."

Dennings snorted. "I knew the theoretical limit anyone could survive was three, I didn't know he'd qualify for the entire supply."

"You made the right call. Three canisters on top of Mana Sensitivity. Having a hundred in every attribute is practically unheard of, not without titles and magical items." The analyst's gaze shifted over to the frozen combat. "If Marvick didn't have over twenty levels on him plus the titles, the newbie might have put up more of a fight."

The Commander murmured, "Right call? We'll see." She raised her voice. "Continue diagnostic replay."

Marvick resumed pummeling Dean with mechanical precision. Backed with his overwhelming strength and magnified by the force-amplification of his training, the Captain was taking at least ten of Dean's hit points with each strike. To a non-Awakened, every single one of them would have been disabling, if not outright lethal.

"There. Stop."

The scene froze on an image that sent chills down her spine. With the blue energy flooding Dean's core, pushing away the System mana, his class had activated. The legend flashed a red warning.

WARNING: This unique class may cause unquantifiable interactions. By combining Override Engine, Mana Sensitivity, unnaturally high attributes, and parasitic overrides, there is no way to anticipate what an Apocalypse BREAKER is capable of.

His class added a 30% bonus to both his Strength and Attunement. When that happened, Dean's Strength attribute jumped to over a hundred and forty and that paled in comparison to his new Attunement score.

It was over one seventy.

An explosion of red filled the screen as Captain Marvick activated one of his class abilities. The drain on his mana was huge, taking the formidable man down by more than half. At first, it seemed that the freezing command would work.

Then the assessment screen did something she'd never seen.

It glitched, the numbers and metrics blurring. A beat later, when it snapped back into place, two words appeared to have been carved into the glass itself.

Arise BREAKER.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Dennings said, pointing at the strange marks. "What's going on?" Beside her, the Lieutenant shifted, tapping a button on her tablet. The image vanished as the display flickered, returning to its normal state.

"Wait, that's not..." Sharon pressed more buttons. "Commander, I'm looking at the logs. There's no data about what just happened." Her breath hitched. "There was a spike in mana. But it came from inside the room with us."

Looking around their small observation room, heavily armored and nestled beneath the SAO practice building, the Commander demanded, "Inside the room with us? What does that even mean?"

"Those words? They aren't in the system memory. It's like they didn't come from the computer. It's like they came from him." Sharon lifted a hand, finger trembling, pointing at the screen, and at the smiling young man who appeared on the verge of killing one of their top elites.

Dennings shook her head. "Impossible. This is a recording. That fight happened minutes ago."

Neither had an answer, and no amount of searching revealed the truth. Finally, minutes later, Dennings turned to the other woman. "Lieutenant, what's your professional opinion? What will Williams be capable of if we give him training?"

Sharon, still pale, shook her head. "I...uh, I don't know. You read the warning. If something triggers his class, there's no telling. On the defensive, he overcame Marvick's most powerful spell. On the offensive, with proper training?"

Weighing worry in one mental hand and hope in the other, Dennings finished her coffee. "That works. Okay. That leaves us with one obvious path forward."

"It does? How?"

"We keep that man grounded. Make sure he remembers who he is. Remembers what he's fighting for. And we'll surround him with the right people. Ones he can learn from, and who will benefit from his proximity."

"You're hoping to get a true group going again?"

"That's right. What better way to use whatever he's becoming to our advantage?"

"And if our best die in this..." The Lieutenant looked at the screen and swallowed hard, "...man's proximity?"

Dennings shook her head, waving her empty cup. "This is war, Lieutenant. People die." With a gesture and command, she turned the replay off.

A sense of tension left the air immediately, and although the Commander didn't audibly sigh, the muscles in her jaw unlocked visibly. "Moving on. What can you tell me about his data? Did we get it locked down before the System saw the finals? The last thing we want is for it to take a personal interest in one of our people."

The change of topic brightened the Lieutenant's mood visibly. She even managed a weak grin. "Good news there. We masked nearly everything. It looks like his Conquest requests were recorded, but we tweaked those records. We left the guide but disguised the one that led to his custom class. It's probable to see the mana spike, which we think may lead to an extra fast Event or two, but that should be it."

"Now that is good news." Reaching over, the Commander clasped the other woman on the shoulder. "Let's just hope our luck continues this way. If one of those Monitors the survivor told us about figures out what we're doing..."

There was no reason to continue that sentiment, and both knew it.

Chapter 26: Old School

“I want to learn magic,” I said as we crossed the compound. It was still early morning, but the sun was higher than expected. How long had we been fighting? I tried checking my HUD for the information, but instead got a fun message when I mentally tried to access the Local Telemetry tab.

Telemetry Tab Unavailable: Complete quests or purchase upgrades using System currency.

Cost to Unlock: 5,000 Credits.

Walking beside me, her clipboard tucked beneath her arm, Chantal made a thoughtful sound. “You’re up to one sixth of your maximum potential for Mana Sensitivity. At full power, you’ll see a three-hundred percent boost to anything you do with mana. Whatever spells you learn are going to pack one hell of a punch.”

“Which means I need to learn some right away, right?”

“Maybe.” She looked over at me. “Tell me a bit about the itching you feel. Dennings mentioned it earlier. Something about how Override Engine doesn’t remove the problem?”

As we made our way across the hard packed desert ground, I tried explaining it to her. “It started as soon as I got Activated.” I walked her through how that had gone, then went into detail about how regular magical items appeared to trigger the problem, but relics did not.

“I see. We’ll want to talk with Lieutenant McFay about this. She picked her build specifically to help with System analysis, plus she’s one of the few people in the compound with an Intelligence score higher than yours. Not that it seems to be helping you much.” The last bit came across wry, more playful than actually biting.

It seemed now that the assessment was over she’d settled down to being at least somewhat friendly.

I eyed her, “Lieutenant McFay?”

She pointed at the chow hall. “Go ahead inside, I’ll send her a message and ask for her to join us. We can talk while you eat.”

“I just had the biggest breakfast of my life,” I started to protest, just as my stomach made a gurgling sound.

“Fighting and using mana both burn calories,” she said, the corners of her mouth tilting upward.

The timing of the moment was odd. As she smiled, the sun crested a building behind her, putting her perfectly in line with the glow. She became outlined with a corona of blue, orange, and pink light, the effect softening her battle-hardened edges. In that instant, paired with fatigue and no little appreciation for her accent, I discovered something unrelated to Systems or combat.

Chantal was gorgeous.

Seeing my expression, her expression tipped over to a full smile. “Go on, Dean. I’ll fetch the Lieutenant and meet you inside.”

“Okay.”

I entered the mess, feeling vaguely shell shocked. When was the last time I’d even thought about a woman in a personal way?

Months, at least.

The mess was mostly empty, save for a group of four men seated at a table against the far wall. I thought I recognized two of them from my assessment, but wasn’t certain. Across the room was a buffet-style bar lined with all sorts of food, next to a drink dispenser. The bar had a sign hanging from it that read ‘Don’t forget to hydrate’.

Grabbing a plate, I loaded it with fried chicken breasts, gravy, and leftover pancakes, then took a seat away from the men. I took my first bite, feeling off-center and strange. It didn’t take high attributes to realize why.

When was the last time I’d felt any emotion other than anger or grief? I couldn’t remember. Realizing Chantal was attractive wasn’t special.

The fact that I’d acknowledged it was.

A voice whispered in the back of my mind. It’s called healing Dean. You’re finally getting over it. All it took was realizing you aren’t powerless. It sounded a bit like Brian, which only made the sentiment painfully ironic.

I sat there for several minutes, eating and trying to get a sense of what might have changed inside of me over the past twenty-four hours. Was my intuition correct? Had I been depressed all along and was only now coming out of it? Or maybe it was having so many jacked up attributes? Could it be that the key to good mental health was to have a hundred in Focus?

Maybe all of the above.

I snorted around a chunk of chicken, picturing how a therapy session for an SAO might go. ‘Recruit Dean Williams, you’re a little sad because you lost your brother. I prescribe one Void quest and a vigorous application of murder to anyone who gets in your way.”

No one would have found that funny. I laughed anyway.

“You’re supposed to hydrate, remember?”

I looked up to see an unfamiliar woman, one with white hair and an exhausted, hollow-eyed look standing next to Chantal. Pointing at the sign on the buffet with one finger, she put two tall cups in front of me, then they both took a seat across the table.

“Dean, this is Lieutenant Sharon McFay. She’s the analyst I told you about.” Chantal made a circular gesture. “Tell her what you told me.”

Between bites of food, washed down with room temperature water, I did. Sharon listened, only interrupting to ask pointed questions. When I got to the assessment match, she said, “And you could feel when Chantal used her illusion spells on you? Sense them ahead of time?”

“Sometimes. In the end it was tough. And that last one, next to my head didn’t help. I got a headdress during my testing. When I put it on, it hurt so bad that I kind of blacked out.” I wasn’t about to tell them that it had sent me into a rage.

Whatever happened to that headdress? Maybe I’d get a chance to ask Steward the next time I saw him.

The Lieutenant brought out a tablet and made a few notes, using it to access a version of the System HUD that had far more tabs and text than mine. “It’s definitely the Mana Sensitivity,” she said after a beat. “But it doesn’t explain why relics do the opposite.” Biting her bottom lip, she paused a breath before gasping, “Wait! That’s it.”

“What?” Chantal and I asked at the same time.

Tilting her screen so I couldn’t see what she did, Sharon brought up an image and turned it back so I could see. It was of me, during the fight with Marvick, only with different color patterns.

“This heat map shows mana types.” She pointed at the magic surrounding Marvick. It was light orange. “This is his passive. It’s an aura ability, so it’s always interacting with the mana in the area.” Moving her finger to me, she tapped the blue at my core. “You said it feels like ice. Like when your relics are active, they cool you down.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know this was possible, but it seems you’ve got some sort of allergy.”

“Say what?”

“System mana is different,” she spoke excitedly, evidently the topic was as energizing as a cup of coffee. “Relics, old ones, use different physics than the new stuff. All our magical equipment on base uses System magic. It’s part of how we insert our Parasite code. Clearly, something about your combination of traits makes you intolerant to the System in a way that goes beyond just being mana sensitive.”

“Different physics?”

She looked at Chantal, who nodded and made a circular ‘keep it quick’ motion. Sharon said, “You know about computer code, C++, Java, and so on?”

I replied, “I’ve heard of them, but I’m no programmer.”

“That’s fine. It’s easiest to think of old magic as the stuff before the System took over. Think Lord of the Rings and your classic D&D versions, with rituals and special words and what-not. Before the System came along that stuff was the bottom level, the fundamental code of reality. Think of it like the machine code, the ones and zeroes, that make computers work. The System installs its metaphysical code on top of the old. Like an operating system.”

“And our HUDs are a byproduct of that?” I guessed.

“You got it. The HUD, the Events, all of that is from the System.”

Stretching across the table to grab a pancake from my plate, Chantal took a bite. Mumbling around the food, she said, “He was asking about learning spells earlier. Is this allergy thing going to cause problems with that?”

I started to protest her thievery, but seeing the mischievous gleam in Chantal’s eyes stopped me. Who was I to protest if a beautiful woman wanted one of my pancakes?

“Why would...” The Analyst’s eyes widened as her mind caught up with the question. “Oh. Oh! Yes, it would.” At my confused expression, she went on. “Spells get installed inside our heads as a sort of permanent magical-biological enhancement, like having your attributes enhanced. There’s no learning process. Our HUDs are what lets us cast them without all the rote memorization and stuff old magic requires.”

I groaned. “Are you telling me that if I learn a spell, there’s a chance I’ll be making my brain permanently itch?”

“Probably. Honestly, I’m surprised you don’t walk around in constant pain, given your high attributes. I wonder why that is? Anyway, table that for now. Back to your question. I think it’s pretty probable you’re not out of luck with spells, assuming you can boost that Override Engine of yours with more levels. In theory, it should provide you with a baseline amount of mana, kind of like your relics.”

Thinking about the trait, I nodded slowly. “Okay. That makes sense. I’m guessing that I’ll need to be careful about how many spells I get.”

“And how powerful they are,” Sharon added, looking over at Chantal, who’d casually swiped a half a chicken breast from my plate. “Are you seriously not going to just get your own?”

“Not yet,” Chantal replied cheekily. “Not until he notices.”

I waved at her with one hand and tucked the other protectively over my food. “This is me noticing.”

“Fine.” Rolling her eyes, she stood and walked away. I couldn’t help but notice how graceful her movements were.

Why hadn’t I seen that before? For that matter, why was she acting so differently?

Across the room, I saw Commander Dennings walk in, Marvick at her side. The two joined Chantal at the buffet, drawing her into a conversation that I couldn’t quite make out.

Taking advantage of not having an officer stealing my food, I took a few bites before asking. “Mind telling me more about the chain of command here? The Commander is in charge of field operations, and Tucker runs this place? Is that like a separation of Church and State or something different?”

“Think of it closer to joint custody,” Sharon replied, looking from me to her tablet. Typing rapidly, she went on, “Tucker answers to the Joint Chiefs. She also answers to Admiral Vasquez, but basically no one messes with us. The rest of the world stays busy keeping word from spreading while we do the real work.”

I wanted to ask more about that, but she changed subjects before I could. “I’m thinking about spells.”

“Okay.”

“If relics cool you down, then old magic spells should, at least in theory, do the same. If we can figure out some way to get you to a frontier world, a place where the System hasn’t taken over and the locals know how to use magic in a traditional way, it’s possible that we can balance things even faster. Maybe let you learn a System spell and an old magic spell at the same time, even?”

“A sort of two-for-one deal. I like that idea.” I watched as Dennings looked from me and Sharon over to the table with four men sitting at it. Marvick was frowning, speaking rapidly. I got the impression that he wasn’t happy. Chantal chimed in, jabbing with her finger to add punctuation to whatever she threw in.

Sharon ignored the exchange entirely. “Getting quests on frontier worlds is tough. The System is cutthroat as hell. Most people will be out to kill the natives or destroy their infrastructure, magical or otherwise. If you’re sent to defend them, it’ll be like your Void mission. A chance to earn big rewards while being vastly outgunned. Plus, the few SAO we’ve had return from that type of mission have reported hostility from the natives. If you make that same choice again, it’s probable you’ll have both sides out to kill you.”

She abruptly stopped talking.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Smiling.”

I blinked at her, confused until I realized she was right. “Sorry. Guess I got a little excited.”

“You got a little excited at the thought of taking on two armies?”

“Maybe.” I couldn’t have explained if I’d tried. My emotions were stirring, awakening after being frozen for so long. They didn’t decrease my almost desperate craving to be on another quest. If anything, it made it worse. The fight with Marvick had been intense and left me drained, but only for a little while.

She drew back slightly. It was a subtle, birdlike gesture, one I probably wouldn’t have noticed just a day or two ago. Her eyes moved across my face, like she was trying to figure me out. I returned the favor, making note of her small, spare build and naturally hollow cheeks. Her look reminded me a bit of the lithe woman who starred in the Furiosa movie, the Mad Max sequel.

“You’re either going to be very, very good at this or you’re going to die very, very fast.” She said it plainly, in the same matter-of-fact tone I’d have mentioned the day was warm.

People that honest weren’t common, at least in my experience. I decided then and there that I liked her. “Think you can help me with the not dying thing, Lieutenant Sharon?”

“Actually...yes. Maybe. Dennings has assigned me to personally help oversee your progression.”

“Like a guide on Earth?”

“Pretty much. We have access to some insights even your guide won’t. Just like he’ll know things we won’t. If you can survive the next three or four Events, you should be good to go.”

“How long will that take?”

“Normally there’s an Event every thirty-to-ninety days, give or take. Sometimes longer than that. Most Activated recruits who survive the first year end up at around level seven or eight. For you, it’ll mean we get all twenty of your levels on board. After that, who knows? Smooth sailing, I’d hope.” She gave me a weak smile, suggesting we both knew how unlikely it was that the System would allow for anything resembling ‘smooth sailing’.

“Okay, sure. What’s next? I overheard something about a few soldiers getting their levels installed in case an Event comes earlier than expected.”

“Right. Tomorrow, I’ll push the update that’ll get you enough experience installed for level six. When the next Event happens, you’ll want to wait a bit before applying the attribute points, just to be safe, but the levels will be yours to claim. You’ll also be assigned to one of the newer platoons, so you can learn the basics and start forming associations. Group quests aren’t that common, but they are incredibly lucrative. If you can earn exchange credits, it’ll give you yet another leg up over whatever it throws at you.”

Her talk about attributes reminded me that I still needed to pick a title and had multiple outstanding traits, although I’d be choosing those in the field. I started to ask about those, but paused as I noted Dennings looking at me. She nodded, pointed at Chantal and then Marvick, then walked out without a word.

Marvick watched the Commander go, his brow furrowed. Chantal said something to him, and he shook his head, then went directly to the buffet as she returned to my dining table.

Chapter 27: Scorched Mobility Battalion

Chantal sat with a tight expression that hadn't been there when she left. She slid into her seat, placing her hands flat on the surface as she exchanged a significant glance with Sharon. The analyst's eyes widened slightly before she looked back at her tablet with renewed focus. Something had clearly shifted during Chantal's conversation with Dennings and Marvick.

"I have news," Chantal said, her French accent more pronounced than before. She paused, studying my face as if gauging my readiness. "Commander Dennings has assigned you to SMB."

"I'm sorry. What?" I set down my fork, the acronym triggering very different associations in my mind than whatever she intended.

"Scorched Mobility Battalion," she clarified. "It's Marvick's unit, a group he and Dennings have been working to refine for several years."

I glanced over my shoulder toward Marvick's table. The captain sat ramrod straight, his hand wrapped around a thermos that looked comically small in his grip. He spoke in low tones to the four men seated with him, their postures attentive and disciplined. None of them looked particularly thrilled.

"Okay," I said, turning back to Chantal. "Why do I get the impression this would mean a lot more if I wasn't on my first full day here?"

"Because it absolutely would," Sharon confirmed without looking up from her tablet. Her fingers paused over the screen. "Wait—Chantal, this says you requested a transfer too? You can't do that."

Chantal's jaw tightened. "I refuse to let someone who hasn't even completed accelerated basic training join SMB without support." Her voice was clipped, each word precise. "Marvick and I discussed it. He accepted my logic and my terms, even if neither of us is particularly pleased with the arrangement."

I raised my hands. "That all sounds very dramatic and significant, but you're discussing me here. How about filling me in on what's actually happening?"

"Fair enough." Chantal started to rise. "But I need something to drink first."

I slid my untouched cup of water across the table before she could stand fully. "You didn't hesitate to raid my food earlier."

A flicker of something, embarrassment perhaps, crossed her face as she settled back into her seat. "Right." She took a long drink before setting the cup down with a deliberate motion. "Several years ago, world governments coordinated on an experimental initiative. We worked together to track down dragons, then deliberately deployed SpecOps teams close enough to trigger their Activation."

She paused, her expression darkening at the memory.

"I'm guessing that didn't end well," I prompted, sensing her reluctance to continue.

"Ninety-eight percent casualty rate," Sharon interjected clinically, finally looking up from her work. "We discovered the hard way that dragons utilize old magic. Nothing in our arsenal proved effective. We couldn't analyze their abilities or counter them with any conventional weaponry." She tapped her screen, bringing up statistics. "Of the two percent who survived the experiment, more than half sustained permanent injuries that even Activation couldn't heal. That left approximately forty operators functional. Half returned to their respective countries to establish similar programs."

Chantal picked up the narrative thread. "The remainder came to America. The General overseeing operations at that time secured extraordinary permissions and resources for them. Technically, they operate with a degree of autonomy that puts them outside of every formal channel."

An uncomfortable sensation crept up my spine. "Why does this sound like a group I might not want to join?"

"On the contrary," Sharon insisted. "Those men sitting with Marvick?" She gestured discreetly toward their table. "They've all received new assignments effective immediately."

The conversation about training suddenly clicked into place. "Let me guess. They're supposed to train with me so we can go on group quests together?"

Chantal made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Yes. In part. But there’s more. They're now your personal instructors with explicit orders to keep you alive. You’re going to get the best practical, hands-on lessons in the world from those men. While you're assigned to SMB, their missions become yours. If an Event presents an opportunity for you to form a group, you'll be expected to accept it without question."

I leaned back, digesting the information. "I hate this trope."

"What trope?" Sharon asked, momentarily diverted from her tablet.

"The whole 'elite of the elite of the elite' training the most exceptional soldiers." I shook my head. "It reminds me of the Custodes in Warhammer. My brother was obsessed with them."

"I love that reference," the analyst perked up visibly.

Chantal glanced between us, one eyebrow arched. "I've heard of Warhammer but am unfamiliar with this comparison. Explain?"

I took another bite of chicken and washed it down. "The concept is straightforward—you have regular human soldiers who are already as well-trained as our best special forces. Then above them are genetically engineered super-soldiers called Astartes—eight-foot-tall living tanks who can survive almost anything and essentially live forever."

"That sounds analogous to the Activated," Chantal observed, beginning to follow the parallels.

"Or virtually any similar concept in gaming lore," Sharon added. "The elite-of-elites structure makes sense because it mirrors real-world military organization. Consider Delta Force or the Agema of the Spartans, for instance."

"Precisely,” I went on. “In the lore, the Custodes make the Astartes look like the Astartes make regular humans look. They're essentially one-man armies."

Chantal made an impatient circular gesture. "And your point is...?"

My words sped up as I warmed to the topic, echoing debates I'd had countless times with Brian. "My point is that it's an exhausted narrative device. Every game and story uses it. There's always some ultimate tier of super-soldiers who train to become the ultra-ultra-ultimate version. It’s like that damn Void quest. People get bored of whatever the new ‘most intense’ thing is and just come up with random adjectives to make some new tier sound even more awesome. Reality doesn't function that way. There is a maximum saturation point. You can't simply concentrate experience and tactical brilliance into some perfect person. Humans don't work like that."

Sharon swiveled her tablet around without a word. It displayed my attribute list alongside explanatory text I'd never seen in my own HUD interface. She'd highlighted three paragraphs that appeared to answer a specific query:

Theoretical Capabilities of an Activated with 100 Focus, 100 Intelligence, 100 Attunement: As noted in previous sections, attributes manifest differently for everyone. They are largely shaped by trait benefits. Furthermore, the System will not enhance someone in a way that results in a loss of free will or personality. There are no 'perfect' or 'computerized' Activated. This is a hard coded limitation.

With that out of the way, attributes absolutely matter and will fundamentally change the person. With all three attributes at above-human peak, the Activated will likely absorb information at least ten times faster than an average human. It’s likely this individual may learn a borderline psychic ability to read emotions, even from those who are extremely skilled at hiding them. Untrained, their mental reflexes would be sufficient to calculate threats in half (or less) of the time it would take a well-trained soldier.

As of the most up-to-date records, there is no single Activated who has this attribute spread as a base. Those with magical items and titles who have achieved this are the most dangerous beings on Earth.

I stared at the text, its implications sinking in as Sharon reclaimed her tablet.

"And you possess over a hundred in each attribute, Dean," she said matter-of-factly. "Elite forces exist. The SMB exists. And now you exist too. Tropes happen for a reason."

Chantal leaned forward, unexpected passion blazing in her eyes. "The lore is useful as a point of reference, but remember, that lore isn’t actually about the System. The games you played, the rules you think you understand? Those were created by people to tell stories. They were deliberately designed so players couldn't 'win' – couldn’t break the game."

She tapped her finger against the table for emphasis. "Here, we are absolutely, unequivocally committed to power-gaming every situation because the alternative is planetary extinction. If you can transform yourself into a Custodes or whatever clichéd archetype you prefer, then do it." Her expression hardened. "No. Don't just do it. Exceed it. Become something that makes your fictional Custodes seem feeble by comparison. Is that clear?"

I studied her face, momentarily stunned by the intensity in her delivery. This wasn't a suggestion or recommendation—it was a command from someone who had witnessed horrors I had yet to encounter.

My palm began to itch.

"Crystal clear," I replied, holding her gaze.

"Good." The single word carried finality.

With my meal finished, the three of us rose from the table. Sharon gathered her tablet. "I need to process the remainder of your assessment data, though the results are largely academic now with your SMB assignment. We'll continue tomorrow when I install your levels."

"That works. I don’t have anything else on the calendar yet." I tried to make it sound a little playful, to remind them both that we’d shared some banter just a few minutes ago.

It didn’t work. My reassignment to SMB had made Chantal button up entirely, and I couldn’t get a good read on Sharon. I either terrified or fascinated the tiny woman, it was impossible to tell.

Maybe both?

As the analyst departed, Chantal nodded toward Marvick's table. The captain and his men had shifted to observe us, their conversation having ended.

"Come on," she said, squaring her shoulders. "Time for introductions."

Marvick’s taunt, or aura, or whatever it was, was no longer active, so he didn’t distract from my study of the men he was sitting with. My first impression, as I approached the table with Chantal, was that each of the SAO with him were at, or close to, his overall level.

None of the four looked alike, yet each of the men fit together, as if they’d spent enough time in each other's company that their differences had evened out over time.

Chantal didn’t bother with formalities. “Going clockwise, you’ve got Tunde, Cole, Wiz, and Cruz.”

Similar to the Captain, Tunde was a black man, although his skin was warmer and lighter in tone. His face had tiger-like claw marks on the cheeks and his eyes were bright yellow. Even seated, I saw that Cole would be tall and lanky. He had a thick caterpillar of a mustache on his upper lip which vaguely reminded me of something out of the 1970s. Wiz was a young guy with short black hair. His face looked like he’d been infected with something, as black veins pulsed around his eyes and cheeks. Cruz had the swarthy skin of a Mesoamerican, and was as nondescript as his companions were distinctive. I doubted he would have stood out in a crowd, even at his level.

“Pleased to meet you,” Cole said, a thick country twang in his voice. “You can call me Texas.”

“Sure. I’m Dean.” I checked my HUD. Despite not being in combat, it gave each of the SMB members labels.

Marvick slid his chair back, making room and gesturing for Chantal and me to join the rest of them. Once we were seated, he said, “I’ve been telling the team about your assessment. Just so it’s clear, in SMB we don’t keep secrets from one another.”

“Sure, that makes sense.” I looked at the group. “Not like I’ve got anything to hide.”

Cruz spoke with a soft Hispanic accent, “That’s good to hear. Sometimes newbies think holding back will lead to an advantage.”

Tunde made a tsking sound with his tongue. “That’s the danger of people with the ‘lore’ – everyone wants to be the main character of the story. Fucking stupid, if you ask me.” He too had an unplaceable accent, although it wasn’t as thick as Marvick’s.

“Anyway,” Marvick cut in. “I know you haven’t even gotten a proper tour of the base yet. Today, we’ll make sure that happens. Tomorrow, you’ll be training with the team. Most of that is going to be martial drills.”

I fought a smile. “Let me guess. I get up at five am, run sprints, then you teach me how to make my bed and dismantle a gun?”

Texas barked a laugh as Marvick shook his head.

“You’re in the accelerated program. You’ll run, sure. The rest of the stuff you probably expect won’t come up during your first few weeks. Our mandate is to help you survive the System, not terrestrial threats. That means we need to get what it classifies as Organic Skills trained up as quickly as possible.”

Holding a hand up, Wiz ticked things off on the fingers of both hands. “Fighting. Stealth. Solo and group tactics. Magic theory. Alien physiology and psychology. System rules. We’ll start there. Once you’ve gotten those to at least thirty percent, we might sprinkle in how to fire a gun. Just to help you keep on your toes.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question when my HUD flashed. No, not just my HUD. Everyone’s HUD. I caught sight of everyone at the table looking up and to the side in harmony.

Notice: Your Expansion Monitor has purchased an Event Burst for your planet.

Event Burst Details: An Event Burst will shorten the delay between Events by between 40-95%, resulting in a significantly elevated number of Events for the same period. The duration of the period will either be 8 local months, until one adventurer survives 5 consecutive events, or until no adventurers remain on the planet. In addition to shortened delays, Events will have a higher probability to offer both greater rewards and challenges.

Notice of Inclement Event: As an Event Burst will represent a significant strain on local resources, you have been given advanced notice. The next System Event will trigger in 3 days. Prepare accordingly.

“Damn it,” Chantal said. “The Monitor knows something is going on.”

“This changes the math.” Marvick and the others exchanged looks, their eyes flickering in a way that told me they probably had some sort of HUD-based party chat. After a few seconds of that, he addressed me directly.

“Recruit, I pushed you hard this morning. The next few days won’t be easy, especially if the System is starting to take notice. Finish eating, then head back to your room. We’ll kick off training tomorrow. I want you in the mess by zero-six hundred, then in the SAO training facility by zero-six-twenty.”

I wanted to protest that it was still early but stopped myself. If I was going to be part of Marvick’s team, I had to show that I could do more than only snap back at direct orders. “Yes, sir.”

“Good man,” Marvick said, then addressed his men. “Three days. Report to Captain Nicholson for your upgrades. I want each of you prepped. Not just to help our newest member or the Event, but for what comes after. When we’re all together again, our number one goal should be ensuring Dean has everything he needs to survive.”

“Understood,” Texas said first, although the others followed shortly after.

They left and Chantal turned to me. “I need to get ready, too. You good to get back to your room?”

“I am. Yeah.”

“Good. Eat up and rest well. We’re probably going into a real storm.”

I know and I can’t wait, I thought to her back as she walked away.

Interlude: Everybody Eats

Expansion Monitor Zatuula, we have a potential Pulsar.

One hand on the liquid nutrition packet, the other scrolling through a log of Sestian mating rituals, the Expansion Monitor responded out of reflex. "Say what?" It came out as 'They thut' and sent drops of murky yellow goo across her chest.

A new display extended above the other curved monitors of her workspace. Earth filled the view, along with a list of recent readings. She skimmed through the data, finding nothing of interest. Little had changed in the last few days, other than the mana saturation ticking up slightly.

Magical Saturation: 25.5 (up from 25 in the past 24 hours)

Status: Low Mana Zone; Insufficient for Full Deployment

Swallowing a fatty protein globule, she asked, "What makes you think there's a Pulsar?"

The System did not reply, which she took to mean she'd missed something. Sliding a finger across the collar of her conjured dress, she recaptured some of the nutrient goo on a finger.

With a thought, she spent the mana to activate a raft of research spells. They sped through her interfaces, collecting data about Earth and its inhabitants. As the results percolated, she popped the finger into her mouth and loudly slurped the viscous mucus down.

System Growth: Below normal

Dragon Activity: As expected

Azagrand Crusade Deployment: Active; as expected

Adventurer Progress: Slightly below normal

She focused on that last line, finding it unusual, particularly with the System's deployment progressing so sluggishly. If Earth's population was weak, how were they resisting the influence of both the dragons and her agents?

"Hrm. This could be..."

Expansion Monitor Zatuula.

The words, in neon blue font, flashed before her vision, stealing more than her attention. Her thoughts swirled, becoming cloudy as she felt herself drawn to a line of text she'd already read and dismissed. Several words were now underlined.

Magical Saturation: 25.5 (up from 25 in the past 24 local hours)

Realizing what she'd missed, she asked, "Are you suggesting adventurers did that?"

The System's silence was a stark reminder that it was not there to help her.

With the cloud lifted and focus returning, she cast more spells, calling up lists of adventurers and recently-completed quests. Skimming them, she mused, "Did someone find a lost reliquary or something? I know our scout spells found that ruin just the other day…"

But no. That wasn’t the case.

One newbie adventurer had gotten lucky and earned a few relics. That was abnormal, but not enough to explain the change in mana density. Confused, she cast spells to accelerate her ability to process data. Once she felt them take hold, she scanned logs related to all active adventurers on the planet. There weren't very many, less than a thousand, and none were particularly promising... except...

"Wait, the same adventurer who earned multiple relics also received two Conquests? Are you thinking it's him?" She focused on his HUD data.

Name: Dean Williams

Class: Warrior Race: Human (Standard biped) Level: 3 Conquests: 0 (2 Spent) Experience Points: 19,951 Hit Points: 120 Mana: 250 Titles: 0 Active Traits: Human, Tougher Than Nails

Attributes

Strength – 40 Endurance – 29 Grace – 34 Focus – 20 Mind – 18 Perception – 22 Attunement – 11

Key Inventory Items · Zack's Belt of True Ambidexterity (Relic)

· Fanto's Frantic Footwear of Frenetic Frenzy and Floating (Relic)

"He earned and spent two Conquests already? On what?" More spells helped retrieve the historic data. Neither of the expenses was particularly shocking. A not-insubstantial number of the few people who ever earned a Conquest asked for permanent help. The second was disappointing, however.

Conquest Purchase Log:

· Permanent Guide

· Quest Assistance – Overcoming an adversary during tutorial missions

"What a waste." She laughed, dipping her finger in the last of the sauce on her collar. It had begun cloying and was now hard enough that she had to chew it free of her fingertip. "The relics are intriguing, but certainly not an indication of a Pulsar."

Pulsar Reminder: A Pulsar is an adventurer who has shown sufficient potential to be sent against the Inner Worlds. Any Monitor who helps find and accelerate a Pulsar to ascension will receive an additional 800 Administrative Credits upon delivery.

Resisting the urge to scowl, she said, "I know what a Pulsar is. Everyone knows what a Pulsar is. This 'Dean' clearly isn't it."

The same line of underlined text flashed across every magical display.

Magical Saturation: 25.5 (up from 25 in the past 24 local hours)

Zatuula's head burned, scorched with a need so intense it made her gasp. "Fine," she exclaimed, panting as she waved toward the list. "Let's assume that point-five jump in mana saturation is a hint that one of these low-performers could be a Pulsar. What do you want me to do about it?"

No reply.

She didn't need to ask again, not when the answer was obvious. There was an easy way to see if someone had the potential to satisfy the System's definition.

The System's pull relented, albeit noticeably slower this time. When it did, she pulled up a list of actions available for Earth.

She had two.

Administrative Credits Available: 91

Earth Action List

· Active Monitoring for Pulsar Presence [Cost: 0 Administrative Credits] · Trigger Localized Event Burst [Cost: 50 Administrative Credits]

Neither option was particularly appealing. If she was watching Earth, she wouldn't be working on the Sestus problem. If she spent fifty credits to force the locals into a rapid series of Events, the highest probability was that most, if not all, of their current crop of adventurers would die.

Without downtime to acclimate and develop organic skills, the survival rate of an Event Burst was less than 24%. If Earth had a low-performing population, it would be closer to 8% or lower.

"I don't suppose you'll give me time to think this over?"

A sharp tug at her thoughts was the only reply.

"Fine." Tonguing out a now rock-hard vestige of her meal, she spent the credits.

Localized Event Burst Purchased – Implementation Initializing…

Cost: 50 Administrative Credits

Remaining Administrative Credits: 41

On the positive side of things, if any humans survived the storm, it would accelerate the System's takeover. Even if there was no Pulsar, Zatuula was likely to recoup most, if not all, of the spent credits.

Making a mental note to punish the Crusade for their lack of efficiency, she returned her attention to Sestus, where she just knew her fortunes would be realized. If only she could figure out how to use their fixation with the color yellow to bring them peacefully into the System...

Chapter 28: Breaking In

Back in my room, I took a shower, then dressed. With nothing better to do, I walked to the backpack and opened the drawstrings. I’d stuffed it haphazardly, choosing the books Brian had on his shelf of favorites along with a few odds and ends. Grabbing one of the two three-inch-thick tomes that held rules for one of his favorite game systems, I walked to the table and took a seat.

I didn’t know what I was looking for. Inspiration, maybe. Opening the well-read cover, I found the first page absolutely covered in sticky notes. The first one, on the top left, read:

Remember: Rules provide structure, but they don’t tell a story. The job of a good Game Master is to help them do that. If it breaks the rules, so what? As my brother would say, “Break those fuckers.”

Below was a detailed summary of the book, in the sort of anal detail only someone like my brother could have put into a project.

I thumbed through the pages, not surprised to find notes on nearly every one. When I made it to the middle of the book, which started with a chapter called “Immersion”. A red sticky note drew my attention, and I laughed.

Note: If Dean plays, design scenarios that can withstand a ‘punch first, ask questions second’ archetype.

Putting the rulebook away, I found one of his favorite novels, Heroes Die, by Matthew Stover. Our dad had gotten that for us. I was surprised Brian kept it in a place of priority, given how violent the thing was. He’d always been a fan of more peaceful, slice-of-life faire.

Cracking it open, I read until I grew tired and went to bed.. When I did, the bed wasn’t comfortable, and my thoughts were restless. I kept thinking about Marvick’s spell. Not because it had stopped me—but because I’d barely stopped myself before that. Because if I hadn’t… I didn’t know what I would’ve done. It felt like it should have been one of those great power, great responsibility moments.

The problem was, when I looked for the spot where guilt should have been, there was nothing. Marvick had come at me. No, he hadn’t simply come at me.

The asshole had been beating me with a fucking stick.

If anything, I knew a twinge of regret that I hadn’t taken the fight to him. How would I have done, unrestrained and properly able to defend myself? Marvick was a well trained veteran and likely level twenty or above, unless my instincts were wrong.

I still probably would have lost.

Maybe.

Sleep came eventually, fitfully. I woke groggy and sore in ways I hadn’t even known were possible.

Forcing myself out of bed, I padded into the bathroom. Flipping the light on inside the gray concrete box, I scrubbed a hand over my face and saw my reflection. My ribs were still bruised and ached like I’d been hit by a truck. Not to mention the dull echo of magic—old and frayed, static on a dead radio channel—lingered just beneath the surface of my thoughts.

Wondering how I was still injured given regeneration rates, I checked my HUD.

The low-mana warning popped up, followed by my status. My current mana was down by half and I was still missing hit points. Reading the text reminded me that I hadn’t taken the time to truly assess how much the fight with Marvick had cost me.

There were no other notifications. No flashing red warnings. I flicked to the tab that listed my outstanding choices, re-reading the titles and traits available. If I could find Lieutenant McFay again, maybe she’d provide context for the titles. She was going to upgrade my levels, right?

Exiting the shower, I heard the sounds of people moving outside and knew the entire base must be on high alert.

I dressed quickly, sliding on my uniform and strapping my gear into place. The vambraces clicked into position, the belt settled low on my hips, and the boots—still pristine—wrapped my feet with the familiar weight of utility. I threw on the necklace last. The faint chill from my boots and belt were present, but nowhere near as helpful as they’d been during the Event. The cooling sensation was faint, only something I sensed if I paid close enough attention. Of course, so was the damnable itching and the whisper of a migraine ready to break free.

The sun was still on the horizon when I stepped outside. The air was crisp, touched with a bite of cool that hinted at coming rain. The base was very much alive. I heard distant shouts echoing from one of the training fields, and the steady thump of booted feet moving in formation beneath the hum of electric lights and generators.

I grabbed a quick breakfast and, as I expected, I was hardly the only one in the mess hall. Marvick had been clear; I needed to be at the training building by what he called zero six twenty. I chuckled. Getting used to military lingo was going to be an adventure all of its own.

The training building loomed ahead, solid and angular, its reinforced walls dull under the dim morning sky. Inside, I found the team. This was supposed to be my team, or rather, I was supposed to be part of their team. I still wasn’t sure about being some kind of elite amongst elites, but there it was all the same.

Cruz, Cole, Tunde, and Wiz were already there. They’d settled into a companionable silence that felt full of unspoken meaning. Their expressions varied—neutral, bored, faintly amused. Seeing them reminded me that I hadn’t even been assigned a rank.

Maybe they were waiting to see if I lasted that long.

Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, Cruz eyed me as I entered the room. Cole—Texas, I remembered—was talking quietly to Wiz, both of them gestured like they were arguing about something. Tunde stood a little apart, as if the others orbited him more than he did them. I liked to think that I could read a room, but truthfully, I was having trouble figuring out how the pieces fit together here.

To the side, the officers were in conversation. Marvick stood tall and still as a statue, arms behind his back. Chantal had her ever-present clipboard tucked against one hip, gesturing as she spoke. McFay was there too, eyes snapping over to me as she swiped notes on her tablet.

I figured she was here to install my levels.

No one acknowledged me right away. No greetings. No nods. Just the faintest sense that I was being measured. I squared my shoulders and stepped inside, waiting for what would come next.

After a few minutes, Marvick ended the conversation with other officers and turned toward us while barking, “Outside. Course work, now.”

Ending their conversation abruptly, Wiz and Cole fell in with Tunde and Cruz. Together, the group formed up behind Marvick, their boots clapping rhythmically against the floor as they followed him out of the building.

I moved with them, just a half-step behind, trying not to overthink the way none of them had acknowledged me yet. Yesterday, at least Texas and Wiz had been friendly enough. Now there were no nods, no chatter, just the low hum of readiness that came from routine.

The obstacle course was behind the main training yard—a jagged, punishing sprawl of concrete, steel, rope, and reinforced timber. It wasn’t made for optics or morale. It was a damn gauntlet. Ten-foot walls, balance beams that were only an inch wide suspended over shallow trenches, a cargo net climb, weighted dummies, low-crawl pits, swinging log pendulums, and something that looked like it had been ripped out of a medieval dungeon—spinning platforms over a pit of muddy water.

I recognized it as that old show American Ninja, but on steroids. Of course, I shook my head. Why should I have expected anything less? A normal obstacle course would hardly be good enough for people with superhuman capabilities. It did make me wonder, though. I’d already done the math enough times, most of them couldn’t be anywhere near my stats unless they’d gone all-in on physical. So, I wondered how some of them would make the impossibly long leaps between stations.

None of that caught the attention of the other guys, though. Instead, they were looking at a rack of weighted tactical vests which stood near the starting point, each one marked with a name tag. Most of them looked standard—black nylon, front-loaded with plates—but mine was a different beast altogether. Twice as thick, covered in dull iron slabs that shimmered faintly with magical reinforcement.

Marvick stood by the rack, arms crossed. “Fifty pounds for the regulars. You? One hundred.”

I didn’t argue. I knew what this was.

He was telling me that if I was stronger and faster—I had to prove it.

I slipped the vest on and fastened it, suppressing a grunt as the extra weight dragged at my shoulders. It was reinforced with System magic so, naturally, it itched like hell. Wearing it made every step come with added consequences. The weight wasn’t just physical—it was a test of control. If I let myself move the way my System-enhanced body wanted, I’d either overshoot or crush something. If I held back too much, I’d lag.

Chantal watched from the edge of the course, pen poised over her clipboard. I didn’t know what she was writing, but every time she glanced my way, I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“All right, listen up,” Marvick said, projecting his voice across the field. “Two laps. Team relay style. No solo heroes. You start together, you finish together. That includes the new guy.”

I caught a few glances from the others. Tunde looked away first. Cruz met my eyes, unreadable. Texas grinned. Wiz offered the faintest nod.

“Questions?” Marvick asked.

No one spoke.

“Then go.”

The team launched forward, boots hammering across the gravel. I surged to match their pace, adjusting for the vest. My breath came easier than I expected, lungs pulling in air like the vest was a suggestion more than a limitation.

The first challenge was a double-high wall. Cruz vaulted it as if he’d been born on obstacle courses, using momentum over brute strength. Texas was next, then Wiz and Tunde. I followed last, scaling it easily despite the weight, but I waited until Cruz reached the other side before I dropped down.

Wiz caught up with me a few obstacles later as we approached the rope crawl under barbed wire. “You’ve definitely got cheat codes, man,” he muttered, grinning as we dropped to the dirt.

“Real cheat codes would have come with fucking instructions,” I shot back sharply, dragging myself forward. The idea that this random guy thought I was somehow cheating galled. Whatever I was capable of, I’d earned.

The spinning platform section was chaos. Cruz flew across it like a gymnast, light on his feet, while Tunde navigated it methodically, each step precise. Texas nearly lost his balance halfway through, arms pinwheeling before he caught himself. I powered through, focusing on balance and weight control. At the final turn, Wiz lost his footing and nearly fell—but I caught his arm without thinking.

He gave me a breathless, “Thanks,” and then muttered, “Guess the cheat codes help everyone.”

Marvick’s voice rang out from the sidelines. “Move it, gentlemen! You can flirt on your own time!”

Wiz turned red, maybe angry or embarrassed.

I glanced over at Marvick, a spike of indignation momentarily making me crave the handle of an escrima stick and his face. That he would interrupt our session with his crap only reminded me how much I wanted to get back in the training hall with him again. Failing that, I didn’t want to talk; I wanted more. It wasn’t that the obstacle course wasn’t challenging. It was, particularly with the vest on. I’d had to devote my full attention to much of it.

The problem was it felt like a warmup, and barely that.

We finished the first lap, sweating and mud-caked but upright. No one collapsed. No one needed to be carried. The second lap was harder, mostly because the obstacles weren’t the challenge anymore—it was coordination. We had to move as a unit, stay together. That meant slowing down when one of us struggled, adjusting pace, communicating non-verbally. Not really one of my strong suits.

As we came to a running portion, Texas spoke from just ahead. “Wiz, you’re fumigating the newbie. Seriously, why do you still smell like brimstone?”

The lean man groaned. “That’s a stupid joke, and it was old three months ago.”

“If you think I’m going to let you forget rolling up on an ammo stash with your fire aura active, I’ve got waterfront property in Nevada to sell you.”

“That was a very useful spell,” the mage retorted, twisting to give Texas both middle fingers. “And it’s not my fault it took me three months to figure out how to use it. Low-mana sucks balls.”

“Not the balls any of us would be sucking if you’d blown the entire platoon up,” Tunde shot back.

“Stop sucking balls and focus!” Marvick shouted, then groaned. “Fuck, I said it, didn’t I? You assholes.”

We all laughed at that.

For the first time, some of my tension eased, as if sharing in crude jokes was the right amount of warmth to thaw the edges.

After that, I tried finding ways to make myself at least a little useful.

In turns, I boosted Cruz over the wall, then took the brunt of a swinging log to shield Tunde. Once, I hauled Wiz out of the trench when he stumbled again. Texas just laughed and called me “the muscle-bound mutt” half the time.

By the time we crossed the finish line, we were coated in sweat, dirt, and bruises. The vest clung to my chest as a second skin, my shoulders aching, muscles burning in the best way.

“Not bad,” Marvick said, walking up. “No one left behind. No showboating. That’s what I want to see.”

Then, to me, “You kept pace. You held back when needed. That’s something.”

He didn’t smile, but I heard approval in the tone. Maybe he saw me as more than just a weapon to point at Earth's enemies, more than just some punk-ass kid with a chip on his shoulder. I wasn’t deluded, that was part of what I’d signed up for, but it was nice to be more than that.

Chantal scribbled something on her clipboard and called out, “Water break. Ten minutes.”

I stood there, heart pounding, chest heaving, surrounded by a squad that still hadn’t quite accepted me—but maybe, just maybe, didn’t resent the gifts I’d been given.

Texas handed me a bottle. “Hell of a first run, rookie. Just don’t get cocky. I see another Triple-A flex and I’m blaming you when my back gives out.”

I chuckled. “Triple-A?”

“You got three canisters of Sup-A, right? Triple-A suits.”

Wiz leaned over. “Not a bad nickname, if it sticks. Not as good as mine, of course.”

“Oh? Wiz is your nickname?”

He grinned. “Yup. The full thing is Overpowered Wizard. Easier just to call me Wiz.”

I returned the grin. For the first time since all this shit happened, I didn’t feel alone. To call them my team—let alone my friends—would have been a stretch, but they all had an inkling of what I was going through and they’d all managed to make it this far.

While I was grabbing a sip of water, the white-haired lieutenant walked over to me. “So, what do you think so far?”

“I’m managing. Honestly, a lot of what I’m doing feels like reflex, not forethought.”

She nodded as though my answer was what she’d expected. “It’s to be expected with the mental side of your Attributes as high as they are. That martial arts background you came in with is amplified. Those reflexes are, too. On the downside, it makes learning new skills a bit more challenging.”

“Okay. Sure. It’s just the first day. I’m sure when I get hands-on with the team, they will teach me all sorts of new things.”

Adjusting her footing, the white-haired woman looked down, her body language signaling discomfort. “Yeah. About that. Listen, we pulled a full report on you. School. Therapist. All of it. We even sent someone to interview your old martial arts teacher. I know what happened to your brother, and what you did after losing him. I’ve seen the videos from the tournament.”

The confession made my skin crawl. Between being keyed up from the obstacle course and the biting sensation of the vest, I was in no mood for games. “What’s this have to do with anything?”

“When you nearly skewered Marvick, were you in control of yourself?”

I hesitated, then admitted. “Not for a few seconds, no.”

“And this…inability to control yourself. It started after your brother passed?”

“Maybe. I think it’s always been in there. It got worse without him.” I put my hand to my chest, fingers in a circle over my heart. “He was the best part of me.”

A subtle ache rose at the words, an echo of pain lived and re-lived countless times. Dropping the hand, I glared at her. “None of that matters. Marvick was beating the shit out of me. Is the fact that I got angry about it that much of a problem?”

She bit her lip, looking down. I heard her exhale and count down from three before answering.

“Every member of your new team has some sort of psychological trauma. They’ve seen more action. Faced bigger threats. If you’re going to fit in, you have to find a way to control yourself.”

I considered telling her how I felt. How the exercises and banter with the team hadn’t been enough. How I craved violence again. But that probably wouldn’t have earned me any gold stars. In fact, it probably would have wound up with me in restraints. Instead, I said, “Any advice?”

“Spend time with your new team. Maybe invite them over for drinks? It won’t hurt to be more than just Triple-A.”

“Drinks? Ah. That might be a good idea, yeah. Are you and Chantal going to join?”

She barely hid a tiny smile. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Now, how about we get your levels installed? And maybe one of those outstanding titles, too?”

I looked over at Marvick. “Permission to level up?”

He walked over, and the Lieutenant filled him in about the upgrades, then threw in, “Triple-A has suggested a social night before the next Event. How about some drinks and cards, Captain?”

He took the suggestion in stride, as if it wasn’t a surprise. “Get his updates onboard, then we’ll put him through a full day of training. As for drinks…I support the idea. Tomorrow night. I’ll have something special brought in.”

Installation: Session 2

The lieutenant led me to an office building, then into a private room. This time, there was no experimental medical equipment, just a table and a couple chairs. She sat her tablet computer down and pressed a few buttons. A concealed monitor in the wall lit up with a HUD-style display.

Sharon sat there, studying her screen as we waited for my System data to load. It only took a few seconds before the data appeared. One side had my current System abilities. The other revealed the edited ones, with the injected code used to hide my true progress.

As I watched, the Level and Installed Experience Points counters on the legitimate side changed. After that, updates flowed through both versions. While the numbers changed, I felt a surge of bubbles roiling up and down my spine. They flowed outward, filling my body with vitality. What wounds or fatigue I’d sustained from Marvick’s assessment or the training course eased, then vanished as another feeling joined the bubbles.

My insides burned, as if someone had opened me up and poured an entire hive of ants directly onto my nerve endings.

“What the shit,” I said, lifting my fingers to my temples, squeezing as a headache came crashing in like a tsunami.

“Oh! I see now,” McFay replied, not sounding concerned. “Give it a second. It should normalize. Upgrading your Mana Sensitivity is just resetting your magical homeostatic set point. With the boost to your mana, I’m thinking Override Engine will balance it out. Oh! There it is!”

The wall screen updated with a heat map of my body, showing the current influx of red and orange System mana. A plume of blue rose from my core. At the same time, a cooling effect melted from my chest, pumping the equivalent of aloe onto the fire that filled my veins.

I exhaled through gritted teeth. “That sucked.”

“Sorry about that. Just as a warning, it’ll probably get worse from here.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem. Now, do you want to pick a title, or maybe both? There’s no benefit to waiting. The System gives out titles fairly regularly, and given that you completed a Void quest, the risk to claiming both is low.”

Swallowing bile, I reflected on how I simultaneously felt incredible and awful. How was it possible to be both of those at once? “Yeah,” I said. “Mind bringing them up so we can see what they do?”

“Sure.”

Titles Available for Parasitic Installation

Dragon Survivor Details: Dragons are resistant to the System. You’ve gained a touch of that resistance. There is a flat 5% chance that any System-based magic used against you will fail. This may be augmented with future titles or traits.

System Parasite Note: Mana Sensitivity would enhance this. At your current level/status, it would receive a 100% boost, to 10%.

Far Too Lucky Details: Re-roll once on any System-related randomness. The better outcome (for you) will replace the previous one. System Parasite Note: System Parasite already does this, and more. Instead, this title will expand some System screens to include additional options, as well as provide a small boost to certain random interactions related to loot.

Furious Killer Details: While in a heightened emotional state, each enemy you defeat grants a cumulative 2% enhancement to your Strength, Endurance, and Grace attributes, up to a maximum of 60%. This resets after you have not defeated an opponent for 30 seconds.

Scout Slayer Details: When facing a superior opponent with advanced defenses (spells, relics, magical items, etc.) there is a 10% chance that any of your attacks will bypass each of those defenses. If the opponent has multiple defenses, such as a Protective Barrier, a Ring of Invulnerability and an Incredible Dodger trait, this variable will be rolled for each defense.

“All of those look pretty good at first glance,” I said, taking my time to read deeply. “I’m guessing that Dragon Survivor and Scout Slayer could both come in clutch against overwhelming opponents.”

“They could,” the Lieutenant said agreeably. “We’ve got a few with these titles. Reports are that both of those don’t trigger reliably.”

That made sense.

“One thing to point out is that you can upgrade titles. Sometimes traits will enhance them, or you can earn a version two of the same title. Dragon Survivor or Scout Slayer could be incredibly useful once they are upgraded a few times.”

So much for an easy choice.

“Furious Killer feels right,” I said, “but it’s also going the opposite direction. Scout Slayer and Dragon Survivor seem to be about facing one creature, like a boss monster. Furious Killer is all about mass combat. Which is more common?”

“Mass combat,” she replied without hesitation. “The System loves brawls, wars, and anything involving big numbers. We’ve argued internally more than once that the System could just divide everything by ten without changing difficulty. But it does things the way it does for a reason.”

“Any guesses on that reason?”

She laughed. “Maybe it’s obsessed with Dynasty Warriors, or just really enjoys seeing big numbers go up?”

I grinned, enjoying hearing the sound of the reserved woman easing up a bit. “Whatever I choose, what happens to the other options? Will they stick around for the next time I earn a title?”

“No. The System is generous with titles, but once you’ve made your selections, the pool resets. You’ll need to do something that triggers an award for a new one.”

“Any ideas on what triggers titles?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t sound happy about this one. “Research suggests it’s anything that gets the System…excited for lack of a better term. It’s sadistic and has a twisted sense of humor.”

“I hate Game Masters who think they are funny,” I muttered, then pushed the thought away. It was what it was, and I wasn’t going to change the System at level six. “Far Too Lucky is the tactical choice. Long term, more options mean more upgrades. And Furious Killer appeals to my sensibilities.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. Let’s move on to attributes. Any recommendations?”

She looked from me to the screen, which reflected the 45 points I’d already assigned. “You didn’t wait for recommendations from your last level up.”

“You weren’t there,” I pointed out. “Now that you’re here, I figure there's a good reason to ask.”

Shaking her head, she pulled up the tutorial view of each attribute. “Right now, your build is veering deeply into fighter territory. Is there anything else you want to be innately good at?”

“I want to cast spells, too,” I said with confidence. “What Marvick did back in the assessment was just too powerful to ignore. If possible, I’d like to pick up some old magic spells as soon as possible.”

With a tap, she highlighted Mind and Perception. “Old magic uses different rules, like we discussed before. Attunement will still help with it, but not as much as the fundamentals. Your Mind attribute will help you memorize the nuances of old magic, all the chanting and finger-tutting and what not. And Perception will help identify them.”

That made it simple enough. I put 25 into Mind, and 20 into Perception. Neither gave me a new trait, although I did feel the world sharpen as I applied the points. I still didn’t feel like a mental savant; simply elevating my Mind score so high didn’t grant me a photographic memory. But there was a sense of growing, comprehensive, awareness.

In time, with practice, I had the feeling I could pick up all sorts of Organic Skills that I couldn’t have begun to train without such high attributes.

“Next time, we’ll do another three levels,” the Lieutenant said, turning off the wall display.

“And we keep doing this in batches of three until I’ve been through seven Events?”

“Right. Or until you’ve earned so much natural experience from quests that the System won’t knee-jerk when we install the remaining fourteen you’ve earned.”

“Okay.”

With the leveling out of the way, I rejoined the team.

Chapter 29: Organic

After the obstacle course, I finally got what I wanted. A chance to spar.

It was not going as I’d expected.

“C’mon, Triple-A. Again. No, not like that. Again.” Tunde’s taunts were soft, meant only for the two of us, and had proven annoyingly effective.

Panting, sweat rolling down my forehead, I adjusted my grip on the training dagger and lunged. The slippery man dodged to the side, his Grace score clearly higher than mine. In the same motion, his blade licked across the interior of my forearm once, then twice. When I adjusted to correct my course, he moved again, practically dancing behind me.

This time, his knife licked across my throat.

“End match,” Marvick called. “Reset.”

Cursing, frustrated with myself as much as my opponent, I walked to the edge of the sparring circle. Sun that once would have baked my flesh beat down on me, demanding its sacrifice of water.

I shook my head, looking around, trying to understand how I’d gone from being unstoppable to anything but in a matter of half an hour. Neither Chantal nor McFay had remained around once we’d transitioned to sparring. The women had other responsibilities to prepare for given the inclement Event.

We’d moved the training outside and away from the rest of the camp. A circle of paving stones defined an area three hundred feet across. It had seemed big at first, but I’d learned that it wasn’t. Each of the men in SMB was at least level fifteen, I was sure, and they all had the right attributes to make crossing it take a few heartbeats.

“Again,” Marvick called.

Wiping sweat from my forehead, I clutched the training dagger in one hand. It was a heavily-weighted slab of metal with a leather grip and a dulled edge and point. Getting hit with it hurt, but wouldn’t be lethal.

“You’ve had a chance to show off your raw capability,” Marvick said from outside the circle. “Now, we’re going to show you where skills come in.”

“Pretty sure I’ve gotten the idea by now,” I muttered, but obeyed the command.

Crossing the circle to where Tunde waited, I tried mirroring his easy, slip-jointed style of motion. The man’s Grace score had to be one-fifty, or maybe he had low-magic items that boosted it somewhere. Either way, he came across as a boneless dancer, a wave that crashed into me with a speed and violence that was stunning.

“That’s right,” Tunde said as he lifted the practice knife beneath his dark eyes. He studied my face, a smile licking across his lips. “Come on, Triple-A.”

He crossed the distance slowly, leaving openings my martial arts background demanded I act on. I struck with my knife, jabbing, stabbing, and slicing, moving with speed that wouldn’t have been possible days ago.

Tunde anticipated every motion. Worse, he used the tip of his dagger to tap my arm, shoulders, and anything else I left vulnerable as I went on the offensive.

From outside the sparring ring, Marvick said, “Skills are a force multiplier. The System calls them Organic Skills, but the truth is that it’s just training. Not basic training, Dean. Training as one of us. Training that teaches you to really use those high attributes of yours.”

Smack!

There was a ringing as Tunde’s knife struck my shoulder. Growling in frustration, I turned, determined to finally make him pay. Arms windmilling, I lunged, jabbed, and clawed at the air. Using both my main hand and free hand, I mindlessly drove for the annoying man.

Rage didn’t help.

Override Engine kicked in, cooling my rage, but my class didn’t activate. Even if it had, I got the distinct impression that it wouldn’t have mattered. Tunde’s style of combat was a perfect counter to the hyper-aggressive methods I preferred.

Tap-Tap-Tap!

His blade licked out repeatedly, leaving stinging welts.

Eventually, Marvick called the match. But it wasn’t to end the training session. No, it was to rotate Tunde out and bring Wiz in.

“Grappling now,” he said.

I looked down at the sunbaked dirt, bemused at using raw sand for the activity, then sighed. “Yeah, I guess where we practice doesn’t matter that much anymore, does it?”

As it turned out, Wiz wasn’t just the group’s elite spellcaster; but he also had an incredibly technical understanding of various forms of tight in-fighting. His stats weren’t anywhere near mine, not for Strength or Endurance. Over an hour, he showed me how that didn’t matter. Nothing in my background, no amount of martial arts training, came close to the precision, speed, and effortlessness the man applied.

The man dismantled me with arm bars, choke holds, and leg locks like he was playing chess against someone who’d barely learned checkers.

Marvick kept pointing out how skill and precision was a force-multiplier, and how I had to learn from each mistake.

I did my best, picking up tricks and maneuvers after every exchange. But for every new hold or grip I picked up, Wiz had at least ten more.

After Tunde and Wiz, Texas and Cruz each had their turns, with the two men showcasing different martial arts.

By the time noon came, I was below half my hit points and thoroughly impressed by just how far I had to go. As we drew up to head to lunch, Marvick moved next to me, a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m impressed. You didn’t get discouraged. Even when you got angry, you didn’t go full berserk mode.”

I shook my head, sweat dripping down my nose. How could I explain the difference between the rage I sometimes felt and the frustration, the simple anger that came from not being the best on the field? “They weren’t trying to really hurt me. I could tell. When you were assessing me, it felt real.”

“That’s because it was,” he replied, flatly. “That Perception score of yours is useful as hell.”

“Thanks.”

To my secret delight, none of my new squad members seemed entirely fresh. Even Tunde, the graceful little demon, looked fatigued as we sat together around plates of heaping food.

Taking a bite of steak, he eyed me and smirked. “This is why it’s not fair. Look at him. Barely winded.”

“I’m tired,” I protested, although that was only partially true. Eating and drinking was rapidly refilling my reserves. In the low-mana area I healed slower than I’d have liked, but I could have easily run a few more miles in that weighted vest without problem.

Texas snorted, gesturing with a fold of bread. “This is where having every attribute spread out like that is going to make a big difference, Trip. You might not have Tunde’s Grace, or Wiz’s Intelligence, but you also won’t have any of our weaknesses. Ya lucky asshole.”

I shook my head, remembering what the team had just finished showing me. “Seems it’s going to take more than luck to get where you’re all sitting.”

“And it’s good that you recognize that,” Cruz said, nearly-black eyes shining with approval. “Not a lot of guys in your position, with all your advantages, would have the balls to admit weakness.”

“Ignorance and weakness are two different things,” I retorted, meeting his eyes, letting him see what all the sparring had inspired in my chest. Hunger, a need to be better, to push myself to the top, glowed in my heart just as brightly, if not more so, than the anger that had become part of me. I’d never considered myself a particularly competitive person, except in the training dojo. Here, among these men, I felt it in spades. “Give me a few more weeks of sparring and see how weak you think I am.”

That earned a snort from Marvick. “Next up, we’re going to walk you through some basic survival items you’ll want to know for your next Event. It’s unlikely you’ll be allowed to group for it. Not at your level. We need to make sure you are briefed on the System’s…quirks.”

“Such as?”

“The big thing,” Wiz said around a bite of waffle, “is staying on-quest.”

Texas, who didn’t have his mouth full, filled in the next part. “Quests are kinda curated. You’ve got a mission. Parameters. But the places it’ll send you aren’t simulations. This ain’t VR. If you wander off task, you’re going to find yourself facing shit you’re not ready for.”

“And the System likes to tempt us to do that crap,” Tunde said. “We’ve lost people before for that reason. Once, we had to escort a group of priests through some badlands. The place just happened to be infested with undead who had captured a supply train just before the Event began.” He stopped, shaking his head. “Lost three SMB on that one.”

“Because they tried to help the people?” I guessed.

“Right. High-level undead have all sorts of immunities and powers. There’s a reason Cruz went that direction. We’ll tell you about those later. Don’t worry.”

Now it was Marvick’s turn to chime in. “The System is a four-dimensional chess board. Our parasite hacks let us change how it reads and interacts with us, but not everything else. When you’re deployed, assume it’s going to use every opportunity to make situations shittier than they should be. Assume it’s got reasons for what happens beyond our scope. We think there’s some sort of meta-game, where it pits factions against one another. Don’t worry about the details. Stay in your lane. Stay alive. And you’ll come out with the rest of us.”

We finished the meal shortly after that, then went to yet another large building where we kicked off a discussion about battlefield tactics. To my surprise, Tunde took the lead in the talk at first. He had a sort of Assassin’s Creed mentality about group stuff. At least, I took it as that.

“Always scout. Find strengths, exploit them. Find weaknesses, exploit those more. Use overwhelming aggression when it counts, and only then.” He clearly aimed that last part at me, before continuing, “As a team, our job is to know one another, and work as a dynamic weapon to overwhelm our opponents.”

The building had a computerized three-dimensional obstacle course, with various targets for us to practice team tactics on. Naturally, these targets were drawn from System lore, so they included things like ‘chitinous phages’ that took multiple shots to destroy, or ‘physically hardened golems’ that required Wiz’s magic to defeat.

We spent the entire evening there. Whenever I made a mistake, of which there were many, we reset the obstacle course and went over ways I could have approached the situation differently.

Now, it seemed, we’d transitioned yet again: in the morning, I’d shown the team what I could do. After that, they showed me what they could do. Now, it was time to teach me what we could do together.

It was the most fun I’d had in a long time.

The next day was much the same, albeit with several noticeable changes. During the obstacle course, the team actively interacted with me. When Wiz gassed out on a climb, he gestured for help, then thanked me for giving it.

There was no pride in the team. Maybe it would have been different in the regular military, but with our bodies so specifically augmented, there was no shame in leveraging help. Not when it made sense.

During the sparring matches, I’d noticeably improved, having absorbed dozens of new tricks. I still lost them all, but the team transitioned from simply beating me to giving advice. That only sped things up further.

Finally, before we started the team tactics portion, Marvick took me to the side.

“You’re doing better than I would have expected.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“You. Authority. Anger issues.” He said the four words as if they described my entire character.

“You’re not bossing me around or making me do anything I wouldn’t want to do,” I replied honestly.

He barked a laugh. “Holy crap, Dean. You’re such an asshole. Do you have any idea how that sounds? Telling your superior officer that I’m not bossing you around?”

I spread my hands. “What do you want? An explanation for why I’m not being more of a dick?”

“Actually, yeah. That would be nice. McFay and Chantal were both worried you’d butt heads with the team. Not this.”

Frowning, I looked down, trying to put my thoughts and feelings into bite-sized chunks. “I get angry when I’m hurt. Or disrespected.” An image of the boy and woman from the Void tutorial quest flashed in my mind’s eye. “Or maybe when I see others in danger. I don’t know. Anyway, none of you are trying to hurt me. All this training is to teach me. To help me become part of the team. I can see that. Like you said, maybe it’s that high Perception stat.”

“Yeah. I think so. Perception and Mind. They are giving you a shortcut through the entire ‘moody edgelord’ phase of the training.”

Hearing him say ‘moody edgelord’ in his accent, which I’d learned was Congolese, was more than a little amusing.

“I’m glad to see it in action,” he added. “Eventually, the System will give you an option to spend credits on a HUD party update. Or maybe it’ll give you a quest to earn one for free. If you get one, do it. It may take a while yet. For most of us, it took several months of working together. Who knows with you?”

“Is that an order?” I said, deliberately showing teeth in my grin. “You know how I don’t like being ordered around.”

He got the joke. Laughing, he tapped my chest with the back of his hand. It was like being playfully smacked with a baseball bat. “C’mon, recruit. Let’s get to work. You want to earn those drinks.”

That afternoon, they cranked the obstacle course up so the bad guys could return fire with bean bags. They were just fast enough to leave bruises, even on me.

We all earned our drinks that night.

Chapter 30: Lore Night

"You brought lore books with you, Trip?" Cruz asked, entering with a brown bottle in one hand and a twelve-pack in the other. He headed straight to the small table in my cramped living room and announced, "Guys, he's got lore books in here."

I'd left Brian's stack of rule manuals on the table last night after discovering the wealth of sticky notes inside. I had intended to read through them as a way to reconnect with my brother, but exhaustion from the day's activities had prevented me.

"He does?" Wiz pushed ahead of Texas, eyes gleaming with almost feral interest as he rushed to examine them. He clutched a bottle of his own. "Wow, you're right. This is old school. Three-point-five, right?"

Marvick, Texas, Tunde, Chantal, and Sharon filed in afterward, instantly filling my shoebox apartment. Each brought refreshments: the captain hefted a keg in one hand, Texas and Tunde carried clear bottles, Chantal arrived with wine and a cooler, while Sharon brought up the rear with an orange juice-looking liquid in a large plastic carafe sealed with metal at the top.

Holding the door open, I turned, about to snap at them to leave my manuals alone. What I saw made me hesitate.

Everyone, including Captain Marvick, had arranged their beverages in a neat row before crowding around the collection. Chantal pointed. "Wait, that's World of Darkness, isn't it? I loved that one."

"Too bad the System isn't like that," Texas drawled, lifting a hefty compendium. "Now this is more like it. Flexible mechanics. That's perfect lore work right there, Trip."

It took me a moment to realize he was addressing me.

"Uh," I stammered. "Those were my brother's. I haven't even played World of Darkness."

"Let me guess," Sharon eyed me beneath a stray strand of white hair, "you preferred the ones where you could hit things a lot."

"Well. Maybe."

She laughed, and Chantal, Tunde, and Cruz joined in.

"I thought we were going to drink?" I gestured toward the mountain of alcohol. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Drink. Play cards. Swap stories."

"It is what we'd normally do," Texas responded with an easy smile. "But now that we know you're a proper nerd, we've got more important work ahead."

"What's that?"

"We need to decide what we're going to play."

I opened my mouth, then closed it as a whirlwind of discussion erupted. Texas demanded that Wiz fetch the dice from his apartment, since we'd clearly be starting a Dungeons and Dragons game tonight.

"We've done that to death," Wiz countered. "C'mon. Let's do something experimental. I hear the lore library has a copy of that non-combat one."

"Non-combat?" Texas and I exclaimed almost simultaneously.

"We're part of a real System," the group's wizard argued. "Why not have a little playful fun for once?"

Sharon giggled. "Wait, are you talking about the one with the ponies? Someone brought that in by accident. There's no way Marvick lets us play that one. The lore is for research, remember?"

“That is correct,” the giant captain chimed in with a mock-serious look. “Research only.”

Moving away from the commotion as the debate intensified, Chantal stepped beside me near the door. She lowered her voice. "Technically, any game with mechanics similar to the System is encouraged. I've got an old PlayStation in my quarters, with every Final Fantasy game loaded up."

That made me chuckle. "Does this mean our night of antics has been replaced with work?"

"Likely," she admitted. "Playful work. I've never played the three-point-five variant. You'll need to teach me how it works."

Overhearing her words, Marvick interjected. "Hold on. The System has a lot more in common with Fifth Edition, or one of the alternatives. Even if the newbie has the rulebook that doesn't mean it's what we're going to play."

Everything I'd anticipated for the evening transformed as debates ignited about what to play, and how. More importantly, all of the men had opinions about who should referee whatever game we selected.

"Wiz is the obvious choice," Tunde stated, adding a tongue click for emphasis.

"I'm the eternal GM though," Wiz complained. "Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I want to do it for the new guy. Besides, we've got to incorporate Chantal and Sharon, right? Let's change things up for once."

"I could handle the Game Mastering," Sharon offered quietly, raising one hand. "High Intelligence here, too. And I could even incorporate elements from the real System into the games. Maybe create a more realistic simulation?"

"Have you even played a tabletop roleplaying game?" Cruz questioned, tone more shocked than accusatory.

Though I wasn't in the line of fire, the glare Sharon gave him nearly made my spine curl.

She challenged, "Try me, necromancer."

It was perhaps the first time I'd heard her speak with such intensity.

Cruz, Wiz, and Tunde gathered around the analyst, peppering her with questions. Their tone remained good-natured, and from what I gathered, she answered nearly all their inquiries without missing a beat.

"One of her traits gives her a photographic memory," Chantal murmured into my ear. "Probably best not to tell them that. They'll think she's cheating or something."

"My lips are sealed," I promised.

The debate continued as minutes flowed into over an hour. I mostly observed, too surprised to interject my own opinion. Besides, I didn't particularly care what activity we chose. The mere concept of being with a group of super soldiers who wanted to play tabletop games amused me endlessly.

Chantal also remained on the sidelines. I gathered she was familiar with the content, though she'd openly admitted to preferring consoles. While the team settled in place, claiming spots on the floor or countertops, she wandered to the neglected volumes I'd brought in, leafing through them.

"Dean," she called, holding up one of the rulebooks. It was half open. "This is interesting. Did you do this?" She turned the book, showcasing layers of notes.

"Not me," I said, moving to her side.

She'd opened to a chapter called "NPCs," and indicated one of Brian's red notes. "What does this mean?"

I read over her shoulder.

Reward Heroism.

I don't want to live in a world where tyranny and evil are the only/best path to power. The games we play can be aspirational. They should be.

A lot of gamers choose to see NPCs as disposable. It's my job to help everyone at the table know there are at least equal rewards for being heroic and good as much as for callous and selfish.

Even the lowest, simplest NPC should provide the players with access to something they wouldn't otherwise be able to do if they just murdered them.

"Brian, my brother, was an eternal optimist," I explained, feeling uncomfortable as she read his private reflections. "He did his best to make sure all his players, especially me, understood there were plenty of reasons not to murder-hobo everything we encountered."

A memory surfaced, prompting a brief, bright laugh. "He loved to act out scenes. Once, I killed a peasant to loot their shed—I don't even recall why. Brian had her child run out to confront me. He literally broke down in tears at the table." I shook my head at the vivid recollection.

No one, not even our parents, had ever made me feel guilt the way he could.

"We often find those who treat the Lore as real, perform better when they Activate," Chantal mused, sensing my mood. "Would you mind if I shared these with Sharon? Brian’s insights might prove valuable."

"No," I said instinctively, resisting an urge to take the book from her hand. " I mean, yes. You can browse while you’re here, but it doesn’t leave my room.”

She studied my face, the officer's duty to arm her people with every possible advantage visibly conflicting with her empathy. "I understand. While we're here, then."

"Thank you."

Eventually, we broke out the drinks. Though we never settled on a game system or character concepts, we agreed to let Sharon be the Game Master. We spent our remaining time sharing stories.

Not tales of war. Not accounts of killing actual monsters or fighting to save lives on other worlds.

Instead, these were narratives of games, of memorable campaigns existing only in imagination. Chantal even chimed in with something creative she’d done in a Balder’s Gate playthrough.

By midnight we called it quits, having barely depleted two or three of the six packs. I'd consumed one imported lager, though it hadn't affected me at all. No doubt that was just one consequence of a superhuman metabolism.

Chantal lingered after the others departed, pausing at the doorway to press her hand against my chest. Her eyes held an emotion I couldn't decipher. "Your brother wasn’t part of our world. As tempting as it may be, do yourself a favor and don't follow his example. When you next deploy, be practical, not heroic. The people on these other worlds? They're collateral damage in what we must do to protect our planet. Remember that."

"Okay."

I closed the door behind her, then approached the table. The room seemed larger than before, as if all the laughter and sharing had pushed the walls outward, creating space for something new.

My fingers traced across a volume as I flipped it open to a page laden with sticky notes. Ignoring my need for sleep, I sat down and read.

The Event came the next morning, during the middle of the obstacle course.

Character Update

Author’s Note: An abbreviated version of Dean’s updated character sheet is included in this section. Feel free to skip it, as we’ll continue to include context clues about his growth whenever possible.

Name: Dean Williams

Class: Apocalypse BREAKER

Level: 6

Installed Experience Points: 29,901

Total Acquired Experience Points: 149,268

Hit Points: 195

Mana: 400

Titles: Far Too Lucky (Bonus System/Loot Options), Furious Killer (Attribute bump when defeating consecutive enemies)

Active Traits: Human, Mana Sensitivity (100% out of 300% augmentation enabled; Enhanced Vulnerability disabled), Adversary Analysis (Perception), Destructive (Strength), Override Engine (Attunement)

Available Traits:

· Endurance

· Grace

· Focus

· Mind

Current Attributes

Strength – 115

Endurance – 115

Grace – 100

Focus – 100

Mind – 125

Perception – 120

Attunement – 132

Inventory

· Inventory Management Pouch X 2

· Unforged Rod (Relic)

· Zack’s Belt of True Ambidexterity (Relic)

· Fanto’s Frantic Footwear of Frenetic Frenzy and Floating (Relic)

· Long Range Jumper X 2 (One with 2 remaining charges)

· Necklace of Elemental Protection (Lesser)

· Vambraces of Weapon Holding (Lesser)

· Headdress of Storms (Unclaimed – Ask Steward about it)

· Jumper Access Token X 1

· Augmentor Dagger (Summoning) X 1

· Short Range Jumper (3 Charges) X 1

· Survival Scroll X 2

· 5,700 Exchange Credits

Chapter 31: Crossroads

I was waiting for the transition. This time, I was conscious of the irresistible tug of magic wrapping around my body, then violently ripping me into darkness. Before my eyes had a chance to adjust, cold erupted from my feet and waist.

The effect numbed pains I hadn't been aware of. Paradoxically, even unable to see, I felt better and more in control now than I had on Earth.

My HUD appeared in the dark, providing a list of updates, along with some context about my situation.

Notice: You are in an ultra-high-mana region. All previous restrictions have been removed. Your traits have been restored. You currently regenerate mana and health at 100% of the normal rate.

Trait Online: Adversary Analysis.

Trait Online: Destructive.

Trait Interaction: Mana Sensitivity has enhanced Apocalypse BREAKER’s benefits from the previous 30% to 40%.

Notice: Due to your acquisition of a permanent guide, you have been assigned a personal Crossroads. It is the base model. Use credits to add functionality and enhance it. Be aware, your Crossroads is distinct from a Base. Ask your guide for details or expand your HUD’s definitions list for more information.

“There you are,” Steward’s voice came just as my sight returned.

I was back in the domed theater room, the one with the wall of quest screens. This time, the entire sphere was covered in lists of color-coded names. There must have been thousands of them.

Maybe tens of thousands.

“Here I am,” I replied, looking around, finding my guide beside me.

Steward was as he’d been the last time I’d seen him. Small and adorable, his sheep-like body topped with a long neck and an alpaca’s head. Both gelatinous limbs protruding from his sides were tightly folded in place, their lumpy texture making them appear to be oversized blobs of chewing gum.

He blinked dark eyes at me. “It is good to see you.”

The way he pronounced the words had a weight that hadn’t been there in our last meeting.

“You too,” I replied, meaning it. Taking a deep breath, I resisted the urge to draw my final relic from the storage pouch at my hip. My scarred palm throbbed with a pain I knew would only ease with it in my grasp again. Familiarity with Lord of the Rings kept me from giving in right away.

Any time a magical item called to its wielder, it was probably at least a little cursed.

“Two new titles, eh?” Steward said. “Far Too Lucky and Furious Killer. Both are quite appropriate for you, I’d say.”

“Thanks.”

“Why’d you boost Perception and Mind?”

“I figure it’ll make learning old magic easier,” I said, explaining the logic. Not knowing what was safe to discuss, I did my best to hedge the details, providing him only the most basic justification. “From what I’ve gathered, old magic has the most raw potential to be useful, especially if I’m going against other adventurers.”

His ears wiggled delightfully. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. That is an excellent justification.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “How are you, Steward? How have you been?”

He made a high-pitched, annoyed sound. “The System put me on an inner world while waiting for your next Event. I had everything I could want. Food and drink. Entertainment. Anything I asked for.”

“Sounds like paradise. Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”

“Once your mind is free to see around all the lies, it feels…” He paused, mouth working as he chewed on his thoughts. “Sterile. Fabricated.”

“I’m glad you’re here, and that you’re okay,” I said, meaning it. Resisting the urge to press for details about the inner worlds, I gestured at the room with my scarred hand. “What’s the story here? My HUD says this is my personal Crossroads, but it looks just like it did the last time we met up.”

He did a dance, rotating in place as one arm unfolded to point at the center of the room. A rectangle of blue-white material, about eight inches wide and three times as tall, hovered there.

When I looked at it, my HUD lit up.

Personal Crossroads Details

Assigned to: Dean Williams

Access: Limited – Expanded +1 (Guide)

Features: Quest Filter, Ultra-high-mana, Timeliness

Upgrade Slots Available: 3 (See the upgrade list in your HUD for details)

I checked the upgrade list.

The variety was surprising. Half-expecting the equivalent of a Doom-style loading area reserved for weapons and armor, what I discovered was far more mundane. There was an option to build a habitat for Steward, or to purchase room for non-combatant adventurers, along with access to crafting materials.

Naturally, because nothing in the System came without a “plus-plus” option, there was even a way to expand the purchase list. Given that one of the items cost two million credits, I didn’t even want to think about what the thing scaled to.

Biting back a laugh, I said, “Okay Steward, want to tell me a few interesting ways to use this to my advantage?”

“Of course. In my opinion, the most successful adventurers with a Crossroads end up using it as a place to optimize downtime. Imagine having a crew of crafters working while you’re away on a mission. Plus, access to the System-wide marketplace lets you purchase all sorts of materials or items you’ll probably want later on.”

“Like what?”

His two arms made what I interpreted as a wavy shrugging motion. “Enhancements to abilities and titles. Shapeshifting potions to optimize your body for a specific quest. That sort of thing.”

“Materials can enhance titles?”

“And traits, too,” he confirmed. “You just need the right team and materials.”

I couldn’t help but imagine how far this could scale, or what might be possible in the future. Resisting the urge to dream too big, I said, “Now to find all those credits we’ll need for any of that.”

“Those will come. You’ll earn more of those as you sell things through the marketplace, or as you defeat other adventurers. Which you shouldn’t be doing yet, just so we’re clear.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard.” That didn’t mean I didn’t want to, though. I scanned the list of current enhancements already applied to the Crossroads. “What’s this timeliness upgrade do?”

“Puts your Crossroads into a slightly accelerated time space. Basically, you get extra time to talk to me before you accept any quests.”

Nodding at the explanation, I crossed to the wall of quests. “This is a lot. You can help me filter them down, right?”

Steward’s cloven hooves clicked loudly on the floor as he drew next to me. The sound was a pleasant reminder that my boots were active again. Floating above the ground was much more comfortable than regular walking.

Air Jordans eat your heart out, I thought a bit wryly.

My guide said, “Absolutely. One of the main advantages to having me as your permanent guide is that I’ve got full authority when it comes to quest filtering. It gives me all sorts of options and flexibility. Plus, since you’ve unlocked Void quests already, those are on the menu. You still shouldn’t take those unless you’re very certain, but they come with way more options.”

“Between Void quests and the whole Event Burst thing, I should eat good, eh?”

“Or die quick,” he warned. “I saw that your Monitor purchased an Event Burst. That’s a little worrisome for a number of reasons. Whatever tricks you have up your sleeve, you need to be careful. Those Events aren’t precisely rare but they are dangerous as hell.”

Waving away his concern, I slid my hand against the pouch at my waist. “Let’s start with this. I need to understand the rod and figure out how to forge it into something useful. Ideally, I’d also like a quest where I can learn some of that old magic we discussed.”

The guide opened and closed his fuzzy mouth a few times. “Could you possibly aim any higher?”

“Hrm. Maybe. Think I should try?”

“Please don’t.”

I chuckled as his eyes flicked to his HUD. A few seconds later, the number of shining screens decreased from tens of thousands to four. Each of the available options expanded before us, revealing both the quest titles and their descriptions.

Sanitation Run [Pacification Difficulty]

Description: A new territory is having difficulty with sanitation. It is likely that the sewage system needs to be cleaned and upgraded. The locals, while still adherents to the old ways, have agreed to provide compensation to outsiders who assist them.

Think of this as a peaceful mission of diplomacy. And poop. Lots of poop.

Reward: Access to non-hostile wielders of old magic.

Note: The System is in the process of converting this world. In approximately 3 Earth-standard years, none of the surviving locals will be permitted to wield or retain knowledge of old magic. This is a limited opportunity.

Reading that quest put a bad taste in my mouth. “I don’t want to go somewhere and shovel crap for people who’ve given up. You know, a greater good.”

Steward rolled two black eyes at me, conveying a strong sense of alpaca-infused disbelief.

Yeah. We both knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t just to do greater good.

My HUD flashed with bold red text as the remaining quests changed. The British man’s voice was back, whispering in my ear.

“Your ambition has been noted and is encouraged. Oh. And you’re lucky now, aren’t you? Perfect. Here. Let’s expand your search parameters.”

The Vincent Price voice read along as I skimmed the updated offerings.

Kahrons Mystics [High to Void Difficulty]

Description: Two interstellar tribes of kahrons have engaged in war. Each side has access to mystics with the knowledge you seek, although possessing it has driven them insane. Join the war effort and do what you must to earn this knowledge.

Reward: 50,000 credits; Kahron-related title

Throne of the Soul Thieves [Void Difficulty]

Description: Soul Thieves are entities that defy definition both to the System and old magic. Several structures have recently appeared near System space. Your quest is simple: map one layer of one structure and survive without going mad.

Note: The relic in your possession resonates with this location, suggesting mysteries may be uncovered there. As for old magic, who knows? No risk, no reward.

Reward: 150,000 credits; upgrade to 1 relic of your choice; Soul Thief-related title

Treasury of Stephanos Du Rielka [Moderate Difficulty] OR [Void Difficulty]

Description: The city of Thanderkand is on a world steeped in potent old magic. According to a trusted source, the long-sought Treasury of Stephanos Du Rielka has been located by Thanderkand’s citizens.

Although the planet it resides on was previously listed as Protected, this discovery has caused the System to reclassify it as Under Inspection.

The narration paused for a beat or two, making me think the mind behind the System was taking pleasure in contemplating what came next.

Given previous choices, you are being offered two versions of this quest.

Option One – Join the Search Party: In this option, you will join two other groups in searching for the treasury. There are no limits or restrictions on how you may harvest the information. While the planet is classified as ‘Under Inspection’, no previous promises or arrangements will be honored.

The locals are largely pacifists. Resistance will likely be minor. Upon locating the treasury, you will join with the others as one large group to pillage its secrets. Inside, you will capture everything you can carry and destroy all that you cannot extract.

Rewards: The treasury is likely to be stocked with a wide variety of potent magical items. While you will not be allowed to keep anything the System finds objectionable, you may claim the rest. Furthermore, the System will handsomely compensate you for anything confiscated.

Option Two – Defend Thanderkand: In this option you will defend the planet’s Protected status. You will be opposed by two rival groups, each with three members, but the System will limit their maximum level to no more than three times your current one. If you can defeat all rivals, the planet will have its Protected status reinstated for the standard minimum amount of 10,000-years.

To give you a fighting chance, you will be deployed to the quest location between 10 hours and 6 days before the other groups. While you are deployed the locals will be made aware of your mission of protection. Finally, no adventurer in Thanderkand may harm or attack one another inside the city. This will allow you time and freedom to earn the locals’ loyalty or question them without being overwhelmed by rivals.

You are encouraged to use any means necessary to protect your version of ‘the greater good’.

Reward: 15,000 credits; captured gear and experience from defeated adventurers; loot gained during the mission.

Steward chimed in before I could ask any questions. “Don’t assume option two’s rewards let you carry dangerous relics out. The System will use anything it sees as a threat or too powerful as a loophole to remove the Protected status sooner than promised.”

“Always a catch,” I murmured, not surprised.

“The System is built on loopholes,” he agreed.

Gesturing at the first of the three upgraded quests, I asked, “What do you know about Soul Thieves?”

An image appeared on screens next to the quests. It appeared to be of a cluster of pyramidal geometric shapes carved from reflective black liquid. They spun in the air, rotating and changing proportions as they morphed from three sides to four, to eight, to sixteen, then back to three.

The image panned, revealing a world beneath the shapes. Their shadows covered enormous swatches of the planet. As the world rotated, I noted what looked like a giant wave surging up from an ocean toward the pyramid. In an instant, I recognized that the structures were built on a galactic scale.

“Non-Euclidean geometry?” I rasped hoarsely. “You’ve got to be shitting me. What asshole put Event Horizon in the quest options?”

“Perhaps a better question,” Steward said warily, “is how and why your relic resonates with it.”

I shook my head. “Not today. I may be balls out, but I’m not ‘drape my balls in acid’ levels of it. And not a war with kahrons either.”

That left the final option. “What can you tell me about reliquaries? I’m guessing they have relics?” I tapped my belt with two fingers. “I wouldn’t mind a full kit.”

“Don’t get used to the idea of finding more of those for a while,” the guide warned. “Relics are coveted by the System. The ones you got for your tutorial quests are reserved to give starting adventurers a better chance. Instead, think of reliquaries as repositories for lore and knowledge.”

“I’m not opposed to knowledge.” Remembering the power Marvick had wielded against me during the assessment, I knew what I wanted. “We’ll go with the last one.”

Quest Selected - Treasury of Stephanos Du Rielka

The horror movie voice came back on for the next section. “What will you do, Apocalypse BREAKER? Will you stand against six better-equipped, better-trained, higher-level adventurers, or will you take the path of ease and ally with them?”

I glared at the screen. “The System made that quest appealing for a reason. It wants me to stand up to its own adventurers.”

“It does,” Steward agreed. “Remember, every quest you’ve been offered is tailored to your class. Even the seemingly mundane sewage one probably had some aspect of one-against-many.”

“One against many crap demons, I’m betting.”

The guide’s reply was deadpan. “A likely possibility.”

“What does this ‘Protected’ status mean?”

“It means at some point an adventurer used a Conquest or completed a quest so difficult that they were allowed to grant the world a reprieve from being consumed.” The guide’s voice was solemn. “It may seem to be a great sacrifice, but in the grand scheme of things, the System uses such worlds as pawns in its game as much as any other. Reservations of old magic become tools in future wars, or accessible through quests just like this.”

My heart nearly froze. “You mean I could have protected my planet from the System with one of my two Conquests?”

“Which planet?” Steward shot back, a gelatinous hand making an urgent thumbs down. “One of the Crusade’s many worlds?”

I started to reply, then checked my HUD, finding a tab that showed my affiliations.

Race: Human

Affiliation: Azagrand Crusade

A note in green text beneath the affiliation read:

Parasite Injection: Dynamic affiliation masking enabled. The System will believe you are what is most optimal to protect you from its suspicions at the time. During Events, it has to read your class and other features, but as soon as that information is no longer required, parasite code will overwrite all history of your true capabilities.

Warning: The System behaves in ways others might find stupid, or pointless. Many System Agents are subject to its corruption. That does not mean all are idiots, however. Crossroads exist in System-space, and may be subject to review. Avoid saying things out loud that might get a Monitor involved.

That’s right. Earth had its own plan. Its own strategy. No doubt our people already knew about ‘Protected’ status and had opted to go this direction instead.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go full-on Indiana Jones. I’ll take the second option.”

The System’s voice purred into the room, full of reverb and echoing delight. “A most excellent choice. Transmission commencing in three…two…”

Crossroads Upgrades

Additional Upgrade

Description: Adds 1 upgrade slot to your crossroads.

Price: 25,000 credits.

Comfort Module (Random)

Description: Adds a comforting feature to the space.

Price: 5,000 credits.

Companion (Repeatable)

Description: Expand Crossroads access to any Activated individual with a non-combat class (or one with a combat class who completes a special ‘Companion’ quest line). They will be transported to your Crossroads. Use the Habitation Module enhancement to give them a place to live along with appropriate nourishment.

Unassigning a Companion: You may only unassign a companion during visits to the Crossroads. This will send them back to their previous world of residence or the closest System-controlled world, whichever they prefer.

Price: 20,000 credits.

Crafter (Repeatable/Upgradable)

Description: This enhancement adds a specific type of crafting area to your Crossroads. If you do not possess the requisite skills or have an ally stationed at the Crossroads to manage it, it also comes with one free companion slot to station there. Crafting stations have levels (from 1-50); the price to upgrade one is a multiplier of the base price X the new level.

Note: This enhancement does not guarantee access to an appropriate companion.

Price: 5,000 credits.

Exchange Merchant Access (Standard)

Description: Gives access to the exchange system; use this to sell unwanted magical items to a variety of vendors.

Price: 8,000 credits.

Exchange Merchant Access (Expanded)

Description: Expands access to higher-end (elite) goods.

Price: 2,000,005 credits.

Expanded Upgrades V1

Description: Expands the upgrades available for your Crossroads.

Price: 50,000 credits.

Habitation Module (Standard)

Description: Adds a habitat to your Crossroads. Companion creatures, such as familiars, permanent summons, and personal assistants (including guides), may be assigned to it. They remain in the habitat until unassigned or the owner’s death.

Price: 4,000 credits.

Habitation Module (Expanded)

Description: The habitat now comes with an extensive HUD upgrade for any assigned inhabitant. This includes inventory management features and access to System news.

Price: 80,000 credits.

Storage (Standard)

Description: Creates a storage space with 50 standard inventory units. Each purchase of this upgrade expands the slots by an additional 25 units. Expanded spaces do not take up any additional upgrade slots.

Price: 12,000 credits.

Interlude: Revision

Arcane fire filled the center of the domed chamber, drawing attention from the thousands of okaku in attendance. A line of purple and velvet red splashed against the opalescent-obsidian interior walls, creating a mesmerizing effect as the clan hall prepared to receive the System's latest messages. The air hung heavy with the distinctive musk of crocodilian bodies and the sweet smoke of rare incense burned in tribute to clan ancestors.

As the magical light blossomed, it revealed the lounging inhabitants of the otherwise dark, warm space. Tall, burly humanoids, the okaku had scaled skin covered in symmetrical bone protrusions. Despite their animalistic, almost monstrous appearance, the people were bedecked in the pinnacle of finery.

Aether-silk and other equally rare apparel was on display, showcasing the wealth of all who had attained the privilege of congregating within the guild's sacred inner spaces.

None of the attendees wore their adventuring gear. They were all high enough level to opt out of System Events. To many, reaching that point was seen as the first true milestone, one of many.

Until an adventurer could choose their own fate, they were nothing but chaff to be fed into the machinery of the System.

The System's message resolved fully, the text big enough to be mistaken for storm clouds.

Quest Revision Notice - Treasury of Stephanos Du Rielka

Details: This quest has been redefined as oppositional. The new parameters are as follows:

Maximum Party Size: 3

Maximum Individual Level: 18

Kit Deployment Limitations: Level-appropriate.

Details: The opposing adventurer has been granted early deployment and full protection in Thanderkand. Their goal will be to protect the treasury or defeat your team. A second team will be allied with the three you select. Factional in-fighting is allowed but gently discouraged.

Rewards: Unchanged.

Assignment: This quest has been assigned to the Burning Voice guild. You may distribute it to any clan or clan member you wish, provided they meet the requirements.

A murmur rose among those gathered. One young woman, her aether-silks shades of pink and purple, said, "Oppositional? What does that even mean?"

Several of her companions laughed, hurrying to fill the newcomer in.

At the same time, on the other side of the half-mile wide guild hall, a brown-scaled okaku male leaned forward, fingertips pressed together so tightly the diamond-sharp tips of his claws pressed free of their sheaths. "You know what this portends."

His entourage, a cluster of half a dozen dark-dressed okaku, became still, only their nostrils flaring. One among them, a female with a crest of System-born blonde hair bursting from her head, replied in a sibilant voice.

"The System wishes to stir the pot. If our teams fail, it may indicate a Pulsar has been found."

"And with a Pulsar comes opportunity," he finished for her, yellowed teeth showing as he grinned. "Sabathia, make it known that we wish to have the Dalish boy and two of his friends sent. They've shown promise, have they not?"

Sabathia, the female with the blonde hair, blinked at the male. "Master Vossol, he is still young. There is little wisdom in him, or his friends. Their bloodline is ambitious."

"Good. We will reward ambition with opportunity. Make it so."

Gliding to her feet, Sabathia moved away to find the other clan leaders and arrange things as her master desired.

Leaning forward, Vossol folded his hands together, aligning the tips of his fingers so that they made a metallic sound. He spoke thoughtfully, moderating his volume to carry only to his gathered clan mates. "The quest mentioned factional in-fighting for a reason. No doubt, our cousins will join the hunt. If things go awry, we should prepare for a new conflict with the clovash."

At his announcement, an elder to his left shifted subtly before speaking in a gravelly voice. "If this is true, do we maneuver to further the clan's position or do we take the price from those traitors in blood?"

Vossol's cheeks twitched as he ground his jaws together. "Why chase fire, when the sun is our aim, elder Hommu? For our clan to reach the next pinnacle, sacrifices must be made."

Hommu's eyes slid closed in a gesture of humble acknowledgement. "As you say, clan leader. Shall we initiate maneuvers?"

"No. Wait to see how the quest concludes. It would not do to make assumptions without knowing all the factors involved."

***

Assignment: This quest has been assigned to the Rat Eater's guild. You may distribute it to any clan or clan member you wish, provided they meet the requirements.

Like the okaku, the message was projected along the curving wall of a guild's inner sanctum. Unlike their distant 'cousins' the clovash did not congregate in great numbers. For this message, only three slithered into attendance.

The larger of the three, known as Purple-fangs, looked at the text then cast a spell. Magic swirled in a distinctive dome shape around his fifteen-foot-long body, glyphs and eddies forming shapes before his great, slitted eyes. "Okaku. The other team will be okaku." There was no hint of doubt in the fortune teller's voice.

Both others in attendance took the news with eager hisses.

"It is time," one with bright blue eyes said, all four of its limbs coming together in a symbolic gesture of gratitude. "The System rewards our patience."

Like the okaku, the clovash were cold-blooded, although evolution had taken them down a different path. Their upper bodies were those of a very large humanoid with four arms, their lower bodies ending in long, scaled tails. They had rough, angular features and double-hinged jaws filled with curving, sharp fangs. All three serpent-creatures were naked, their bodies lacking any distinctive gender markings, and adorned with ritual scarification that denoted their status within the hierarchy. Where the okaku valued ornate display and visible wealth, the clovash measured power through the modification of their flesh.

Tails entwining, the group formed a hybrid-cluster, their bodies pressing close enough to allow rapid chemical communication.

"We will send our most cunning and arm them with mind-nets," Blue-eyes suggested, his tongue flicking out to taste the communal intent. "With captured knowledge, we will learn our rivals' precise locations among the stars. Our armada will be waiting to strike when they least expect it."

"We should infest them with spores of the thongaku," the third of the group, this one with a delicate pattern of orange across its chest, spoke in a vaguely feminine voice. "Send them home to poison their worlds from within."

Purple-fangs flicked his forked tongue, tasting the air's chemical signatures. "Both approaches have merit. We shall do both, and more besides." His voice carried a distinctive clicking undertone, the sound made by ceremonial metal plates embedded in his tongue striking together. "A single successful quest could advance our position by centuries."

"And what of the adventurer who the System pits against both tribes?" Orange-chest asked, a note of bemusement in her scent.

"A temporary tool, nothing more," Purple-fangs replied with a dismissive wave of his upper hands while his lower ones remained entwined with the others. "Used until we have what we want from our rivals, it will be kept alive to maintain the quest, then dealt with decisively." He made a gesture with all four hands that mimicked something being crushed and discarded.

"Now, which three shall we send?" Purple-fangs continued, eyes narrowing to slits. "Such a low level will prove difficult, particularly if we want cunning. I have a few ideas..."

Chapter 32: An Unexpected Welcome

Notice: You are in a high-mana region.

Location Update: You have been placed near an area of interest unrelated to your quest. Your HUD has been updated with a map to Thanderkand. You are encouraged to explore at your leisure.

I stood beneath a storm-filled sky, the clouds tumbling and churning above me. Frigid, invigorating rain lashed at my face, drenching me in an instant. Glancing upward, I spotted a magnificent shape gliding through the charcoal heavens—a creature like a colossal manta ray woven from living clouds. Its wingspan stretched for miles, with translucent edges that rippled and pulsed with ethereal energy. Lightning occasionally danced across its surface, illuminating intricate, fractal patterns etched into its vaporous hide. As it banked gracefully between storm clouds, great wisps of mist trailed behind it as a cape.

Seeing the creature filled me with inexplicable delight. My lips curled upward, accompanied by a wave of refreshing cold from within my core.

"Is it true? Are you here to protect us?"

The voice came from behind.

Turning around, I discovered that I was standing on a cobblestone road that led into a rural village. Almost precisely what I would have expected from a fantasy adventure, the buildings had thatch roofs and wooden frames. Through candle-lit windows, I spotted a variety of knickknacks, from bundles of leaves to clusters of crystal on wire.

Nearby, leaning between two metal posts that served as a gate, was an old man. He looked... absurd. Dressed in a brown sack that barely covered his knobby knees, he was lean to the point of emaciation, with a three-foot-long gray beard. He had large, bright eyes and a gap-toothed smile.

The rain poured across his face and unblinking eyes as he stared at me.

"You're not wearing shoes," I pointed out.

"Sure enough, I'm not. But you didn't answer my question. The invader, what calls itself the 'System,' made a big announcement. Showed us all your image. Told us you've come to protect, not destroy. Is that true?"

Seeing no point in lying, I nodded. "Yeah. I'm supposed to go to Thanderkand." A quick check on my HUD brought up a crude map which indicated I was over thirty miles from the target city.

"No need to go around in this," the man waved at the sky. "Now that it's official that we've lost our Protected status, it's just going to get worse. The Guardians ain't going to let the System just assault our home without a fight."

"Guardians?" I asked.

He extended one arthritic finger toward the celestial leviathan. "System didn't have an easy time the last time it tried. Won't this time, either. But that's neither here nor there. If you're truly here on a mission against the rest, you should come inside. Have a spot of tea, if you'd want to."

I hesitated, knowing this was very likely a trap. Too many years of watching Doctor Who and Star Trek had told me as much. Then again, there was a chance it wasn't. Pausing, I narrowed my eyes, trying to detect anything with my other senses.

The rain muddied everything, making Mana Sensitivity practically useless. Two opposing memories surfaced. One was from my brother's note about how to treat so-called NPCs and having hope. The other was Chantal, warning me to ignore his take on things.

"What kind of tea?" I hedged. "You wouldn't happen to have mint, would you?"

"We've got mint, oh yes. Lots of mint."

Well, that decided it. "Okay. Sure. I've got time for tea."

Through the downpour, I saw the man's smile widen as he turned, beckoning me to follow. "Come along then. Mint tea and polite conversation between peaceful folk is what we'll have."

I trailed behind him into the village. As we progressed, I caught sight of people peering out from their windows. There were men, women, and even children. All seemed to share one emotion on their pale faces: fear.

"What's wrong?" I asked, tipping my chin back to drink in some of the rain. It tasted delicious, the sensation of cold so welcome that I didn't mind being soaked at all.

"Eight thousand years ago, before the System agreed to sanctify our world, we were beset by a constant barrage of adventurers. They came to corrupt or take what they wanted. Some killed. The ones with great power went after our Guardians, harvesting them to make magical items."

The elder's words carried clearly, even over the growling roar of thunder.

"Thankfully, our magic was strong enough to force the System into a stalemate. At least for a while."

We arrived at a well with a simple wooden bucket and metal winch. He paused beside it, leaning against the stone and breathing heavily. "We'll need water for the tea. Mind drawing it up? You just need to lower the bucket, then turn the lever this way." He mimed the direction with both hands as I watched.

"You're kidding me, right?" I held my hands out. "Why would we need well water in all this rain?"

"Old magic is all about where a thing comes from, and the spirit in which it is crafted. If you want your tea to taste like mint, a little effort is required."

If I'd possessed a danger sense, it would have been tingling. Approaching cautiously, I examined the well and bucket but found no signs of traps or deception. The old man observed me, one eye open, remaining otherwise motionless. A swift survey of the town square revealed no lurking ambush. The rooftops stood empty.

"If this well has some sort of demon at the bottom, I'm going to be very upset," I announced, swinging the bucket over the opening, then grabbing the winch to lower it.

"Daemon?" the man repeated, the different pronunciation distinct.

"Demon," I corrected. "Evil monster that has access to nasty abilities. Sometimes they trick people into making agreements with them for their souls. That sort of thing."

"Oh. I see. Yes. Well, no. No demons in the bottom. Only water."

True to his word, there were no demons. When I'd pulled the bucket back to the surface, the liquid inside was a gentle, pulsating blue-purple color. I reached over the opening, half expecting the worst as I drew the container to me.

The villager leaned forward, observing intently. "What do you see in the water, adventurer who protects?"

Absolutely certain this was where the ambush would reveal itself, I looked down. A series of sigils appeared in the water, glyphs that pulsed to life, then vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.

"Symbols," I said, looking over to see the man on his tiptoes, his eyes narrow and thoughtful.

"Indeed," he said, taking the bucket and pouring half of the contents into a glass flask.

Flask? Wait.

"Where'd you get that from?" I asked, noting the guy had no means of storing or carrying the item. "Do you have an inventory management pouch or something?"

"Or something," he agreed. "Come. Tea awaits."

We walked from the courtyard to a side street, this one decorated with glass pillars. Inside each pillar, hovering in mid-air, was a different object. Most were random implements: farming tools, a vase, a brush. Others were weapons, including a dagger, sword, and a jagged scythe nearly twelve feet tall, the back of the blade covered in gemstones.

As we passed them, a waft of cold radiated from each, although none came close to matching the intensity of my belt or boots, let alone the Unforged Rod in my inventory. "You've got a gallery for magical items?"

"Relics of the rarest and most potent kind," the old man corrected. "Some of the System's most sought-after magical items anywhere on this planet, or several others. These are true wonders, ones to make even those found in Rielka's treasury seem mundane."

I opened my mouth to protest, then hesitated. Something was off here, but I wasn't about to admit to knowing that the guy probably wasn't telling the truth.

He directed us to a building, the door lined with mystic symbols. Going first, he made a smooth gesture, causing the magic to ignite with blue-white fire. When he crossed through the door's threshold, the moisture in his clothes vanished.

Bracing myself for the tenth time, I followed. As jets of both cold and warm air passed over me, I snorted. The old man's beard had poofed out to three times its former size, obscuring most of his face and chest.

"It's rude to laugh at an old man's facial hair," he said, then gestured to a small, round table just inside the entry. "Sit. I'll make the tea."

The interior of the house was as simple as I could have imagined, consisting of a tiny living area with a fireplace and a cot. What passed for a kitchen was barely bigger than a storage shed and held only a few pieces of cookware.

There were precisely two cups and one tea kettle, although it was incongruous with the rest of the room. Instead of simple and understated, it looked to have been made of a single piece of carved jade.

Taking the kettle to the fire, he mumbled something, added the water from the flask to the container, then held it directly over the flame as if proximity to the heat didn't bother him at all.

"Tell me about your decision," he said, back to me.

"Which one?"

"To protect our world. The System broke its word. Now you're here. Is this a coincidence?"

I settled back in the chair and sighed. Here it was. The trap at last.

"Honestly? It gave me options. The first was to join two groups who are going to Thanderkand to find that treasury you mentioned. I could have allied with them to find it. The rewards it promised were very nice, too."

"Why choose the other?" He turned, looking over his shoulder, and I experienced a profound, compelling urge to reveal the truth.

Not just any truth, either. This was a hook, dragged into the very depths of my guts, searching for the backbone, the foundation of why I'd made my decision.

I felt a grin spreading across my face. "Because I like killing the System's assholes. Because I can't wait to do it again." My wariness paid off, as feeling the pull lent me the focus to resist it. Forcing my mind to obey, I wrenched my eyes from his, to where my hands rested on the tabletop. What he'd gotten from me might be what he wanted to hear, but there was more.

Pushing against the coercive magic, I kept talking.

"You've heard one truth of who I am." The next was more difficult, as if imposing my will against the spell was the hardest battle I'd ever fought, even compared to the one with Marvick at the training hall. "There. Is. Another."

His gaze intensified as he scoffed. "Men's hearts lack the capacity for two truths, adventurer."

A woman's scream tore through the momentary silence. It was a loud, horrible wail, followed by a heart-wrenching cry, "NOOOOOOO!"

Chapter 33: Two Truths

The coercive spell dissolved instantly.

I was on my feet and through the doorway before stealth even crossed my mind. Rushing to the center of the road, I halted near the glass-encased scythe and surveyed the surroundings. The rain continued its relentless descent, but my enhanced Perception now pierced through the downpour with ease.

No immediate threat revealed itself.

To my left, further down the artifact-studded road, there was a sound of heavy impact, followed by a liquid crash. Glancing in that direction revealed nothing alarming. To my right, toward the well, a scuffle erupted followed by a choked cry of pain.

My heart pounded as a spreading tingle washed over my body. A rush of mental clarity surged through me, starkly contrasting with the rage I'd grown accustomed to.

The villager had used magic on me—of that I was certain. This realization gave me pause, and I restrained myself from charging blindly ahead. What if this commotion was merely another layer of deception? Perhaps it was orchestrated to draw me out. Or worse...

My hand drifted toward my inventory pouch. The Unforged Rod—not to go all 'My Precious' on the situation, but if it had connections beyond the System, perhaps someone on this old magic world coveted it.

Examining the open door of the old man's dwelling, I noticed him peering out, his head whipping frantically side to side. "They've come."

"Who?" I asked, still monitoring the source of the impact.

"Scouts. Scavengers. Fodder to test the Guardians. They will be the System's eyes and ears, here to inflict damage. Here to feed it information."

Another anguished cry echoed from the direction of the well, higher pitched and increasingly desperate.

I remained skeptical.

"We'll see." Turning toward the sounds, I advanced along one side of the street. The villager trailed behind, his bare feet creating gentle splashes in puddles lining the thoroughfare.

A harsh, chipped voice carried through the rain. "Empty-headed creature. Talk. Where is the honey in this pot? We traced the magic. Where is the source?"

"I swear! I don't know! I don't know anything!" A woman's voice—the same one that had screamed earlier.

Rounding the corner, the well came into view, along with my first glimpse of a takaltu. My HUD helpfully labeled it Scout Rocky (Takaltu Species; Adventurer).

Rocky presented an imposing, alien silhouette. Standing eight feet tall, the creature resembled a humanoid construct assembled from living stone. Its body consisted of distinct, segmented plates of obsidian rock that shifted with each movement. Between the plates, hairline fractures revealed an internal glow of pulsating pink energy—like magma flowing beneath a volcanic crust. Each limb, including its elongated neck, connected to the main torso through orbital socketed rings.

The monstrosity loomed over a village woman lying against the well. Her plain brown dress hung in tatters, soaked with both rain and blood. One arm bent at an unnatural angle, cradled protectively against her chest. A wire net wrapped around her face, pulsating with System magic that made my eyes itch. Crimson streams leaked from where the net's edges bit into her flesh.

"You think we're fools?" Rocky demanded, gesturing with a six-fingered hand toward an object at his waist. The stone creature wore no clothing, but a belt encircled its midsection with several objects attached, including an inventory pouch. After a brief pause, a cruel-looking sickle materialized in his grip. The curved blade featured serrations on both its interior and exterior edges, glowing with malevolent enchantment. "I will use the cutter on you. Trash will talk. Will tell us what we want to know, yes?"

"Aren't you going to help?" the old man whispered at my back, his earlier confidence evaporated.

Perhaps he was simply a talented actor. Maybe this entire scenario was an elaborate illusion crafted from old magic.

But...

My HUD had identified the scout. If old magic could manipulate the System, worlds such as this wouldn't be struggling to defend themselves.

The scene before me, the wire net cutting into the woman's face, the twisted arm, her terror, summoned the anger. My fingers curled reflexively as rage kindled in my chest. Yet I resisted the impulse to charge straight into a fight that I didn’t understand.

Stepping deliberately into view, I addressed the creature. "Hey. Asshole. What exactly do you think you're doing?"

The scout paused, weapon poised.

A distinct ca-click sound emanated from the takaltu's neck socket as it rotated to face me. The movement was mechanical—deliberate rather than fluid—taking nearly a full second to complete while its body remained aligned with the cowering woman.

A pair of bright white eyes, resembling slits carved into solid rock, flared as it regarded me.

"Potent magic you carry, adventurer," it observed, lowering its free hand to its belt. The creature accessed its inventory pouch with unexpected dexterity, producing a glowing green sphere. It held the object aloft, which pulsed once, expanding and contracting.

My HUD flickered with green text.

Accessible System spell detected.

Parasite Override Implementing...

Information Intercepted.

Information Altered.

Details: You have been listed as a level six member of the Azagrand Crusade. Your status has been set as Adventurer -- on System Quest.

Rocky made a clattering sound with his narrow mouth. "Since when has the Crusade allowed children to visit the frontier? Are you truly level six? Stay back. My party and I will tear this village apart. Perhaps you will be allowed to scour the remains."

I advanced a step before catching myself. The scars on my palm itched. "And if I don't?"

"Level six warrior against a squad of takaltu." The creature's voice was a rasp of stone on stone. "Your inventory would join mine, and your meat would feed my furnace-core. Alas, acquiring your experience points would be barely worth the war we might risk with your people."

The creature's eyes narrowed to glowing pinpricks. "I warn once, and never again. Stand there. Watch. Learn. Interfere, and you will be cut, yes. Made for organics, cutters are."

Rocky emphasized his point by waving the serrated sickle in a menacing arc.

I assessed the weapon with a critical eye. Despite its intimidating appearance, it wasn't designed for practical combat. The blade's tip was too narrow, the serrations too brittle for sustained fighting. This was a tool of torture, not warfare.

Yet I could envision precisely how the monster intended to use it against the defenseless woman.

The System's British voice cleared its throat in my ear, as if preparing to deliver some sardonic commentary.

A door burst open several houses down an adjacent street. Another takaltu, this one labeled Stoney, stumbled into view. Unlike its companion, this one appeared off-balance, backing away from something as its foot caught on the edge of a short staircase. Its arms rotated frantically in their sockets, attempting to stabilize as a villager jabbed at its chest with a crude spear.

"Get away from my family!" The man's voice cracked with desperation as he thrust the improvised weapon forward, toppling the creature onto the slick cobblestones.

The takaltu struck an uneven knob of stone with its full weight.

CRACK!

A single fragment of its exterior—no larger than my thumbnail—dislodged from its torso. The exposed wound revealed translucent tissue beneath, pulsating with the same pink luminescence that shone through the creature's joints.

This must be the furnace-core Rocky had mentioned.

"Stanton, stop!" a woman's voice pleaded from within the building as the villager pursued the fallen scout, spear raised for another strike.

The takaltu's arm completed its rotation, and it performed a precise gesture. A thin layer of obsidian materialized around the villager's lower body, rooting him to the spot within the creature's reach.

"You will be pulverized for this, frontier fleshling." Stoney's voice echoed Rocky's cadence as it smoothly regained its footing. With practiced efficiency, it retrieved two items from its storage pouch.

The first was a green, sludge-filled ampule which it crushed against its damaged side. The viscous contents immediately solidified, replacing the missing fragment. The second object appeared initially to be some kind of punching dagger.

The weapon featured a thick, curved handle that Stoney gripped firmly. Once positioned, a pair of foot-long blades unfolded from either side of the grip, extending past its knuckles. Electric magic arced between the triple-pronged blades as a spiked metal sphere materialized between them.

With the rattle of phantom chains, the takaltu aimed the forked device at the immobilized Stanton and flicked its thumb.

The metal ball launched forward, trailing a glowing chain as it slammed into the helpless man's torso.

CRUNCH!

The impact was brutally definitive—a stark demonstration of what happens when a non-Activated human encounters an adventurer's weaponry.

A desperate plea erupted from inside the building. "Stanton! Guardian, please. PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO HELP US!"

Near me, Rocky shifted his stance dismissively. "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he muttered, the System translating what must have been a takaltu idiom. With mechanical precision, he redirected his attention to the whimpering woman.

"Now, then. The net finds nothing in you. That’s okay. Clearly there's more to find. Weak flesh will give answers."

Behind me, the old man pleaded. "Do something! You must do something! I thought you were here to help us?"

I weighed my options carefully. Confronting two experienced, well-equipped adventurers in the open seemed suicidal, especially if their squadron included more members. Chantal's warning echoed through my mind: these people were collateral damage in a larger conflict. What truly mattered was completing my quest. If successful, I'd be protecting their entire world for another ten thousand years.

Logically, that represented the greater good.

But as Rocky advanced toward the woman, the bearded villager rushed past me. He placed himself between the scout and the injured woman, using his frail body as a shield, the tea kettle still clutched in one hand.

My pulse quickened as Stoney retrieved its projectile with a sharp tug on the glowing chain. Ahead of me, Rocky raised his weapon.

With a desperate motion, the old man grabbed the bucket from the well's edge and thrust it between himself and the sickle.

CRACK!

The blade sliced through the wooden barrier, carving a jagged line across the villager's forehead down to his cheek. The bucket spun away, landing near my feet. Glancing down, I noticed it still contained magical well water, the mysterious glyphs illuminating as they caught my gaze.

Wind chimes sang from somewhere distant, accompanied by a thunderous peal that added percussion to this macabre scene as screams rose from near and far.

I exhaled slowly, addressing the System's voice in my head. "When this is over, you owe me an upgrade. I want my own battle music."

Rain cascaded across my shoulders, streaming into my eyes and mouth as I bent to retrieve the bucket.

The situation still seemed wrong, numerous clues, both subtle and obvious, suggested something more complex at play.

But watching the old man's blood mix with rainwater, seeing the woman's terrified eyes, hearing the screams of those I could still save, none of that mattered anymore.

There are two truths.

The System's malevolent voice purred into my ear, completing its interrupted thought: "Apocalypse BREAKER has been activated."

Chapter 34: Broken Stone

Power surged through my body, flooding every muscle with a single imperative: STRIKE.

Moving on pure instinct, I seized the metal handle of the bucket and launched myself skyward. The distance between us vanished in a heartbeat as my enhanced attributes propelled me in a perfect arc toward the takaltu.

It shouldn't have worked. Clearing that gap with such precision would have required months of training for a normal human.

But I had transcended normal human limits.

Landing precisely, I twisted my torso and brought the wooden container down on Rocky's skull with every ounce of strength I possessed.

CRACK!

The vessel shattered, releasing its enchanted contents directly onto the stone creature's head. The mystical liquid didn't merely splash; it clung, sinking into the crevices between the creature's plates. Symbols ignited across the viscous substance, burning into the rock like acid etching metal.

Momentum carried me past my adversary. Unable to halt completely, I pivoted and lunged for its extended arm. The wicked sickle remained poised, still dripping with the villager's blood. Grasping its wrist, I squeezed, intending to crush the limb in my grip.

Rocky was no human, however, and my instincts were flawed. The stone adventurer's construction granted advantages my flesh and bone fingers couldn't overcome.

With a violent jerk, it tore its limb free and countered with a backhanded swing. The blow caught me square across the chest, unfocused but powerful. The impact sent me airborne again, this time involuntarily.

SMASH!

I collided with a building hard enough to fracture the wooden wall before tumbling to the ground with a bone-jarring impact. Dazed but determined, I scrambled to my feet, expecting a follow-up assault.

GLURK!

The sound drew my attention back to my opponent. Rocky was clutching at his face, frantically clawing at a swirling vortex of now-crimson water. The magical symbols had transformed, burning brighter with fury as they spiraled inward. Fissures spread across the creature's head, widening with each desperate attempt to remove the liquid.

Then its skull simply... collapsed.

Stone fragments and translucent goo erupted from the stump of its neck as the scout toppled backward, striking the cobblestones with a thunderous WOOOOM. Droplets of enchanted water splashed across its torso, each point of contact creating spiderweb cracks through the denser plating.

The System's accented voice announced, "Furious Killer is now active. You've gained a two-percent enhancement to your Strength, Endurance, and Grace. You have thirty seconds to defeat another before this bonus ends."

Scanning the surroundings, I spotted Stoney several houses away. The second takaltu was observing me, but hadn't advanced.

Another scout, labeled Clod by my HUD, emerged from between two nearby buildings. This one already had its sickle drawn, white eyes pulsing as it assessed the situation.

My palm still tingling from where Rocky had torn free, I sprinted toward the fallen scout's remains. Kneeling beside the corpse, I plunged my hand into the gelatinous substance filling its neck cavity. The material was like warm petroleum jelly as I pushed deeper. Grasping the jagged edge of a chest plate, I yanked upward, tearing a substantial fragment free.

Behind the shattered armor lay more of the same viscous material, but at the center of the abdomen, just above where a human's navel would be, pulsed a fist-sized orb. The core throbbed with pink luminescence, its light irritating my vision.

Splashing footsteps approached from behind.

I rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding Clod's descending blade. The serrated edge whispered past my ear, missing by millimeters. The sheer velocity of the assault painted a vivid picture of how quickly these creatures could move when aligned with their targets.

Regaining my footing, I locked eyes with my new adversary as it stepped onto its fallen comrade to press the attack. Its free hand rose, fingers flowing through a familiar gesture, likely the same spell Stoney had used to immobilize the villager.

A snarl escaped my lips as I sprang forward, driving the jagged stone shard toward Clod's spellcasting hand. Simultaneously, my other arm snapped outward, ambidexterity allowing me to deflect the sickle with my vambrace.

My countermeasures succeeded...mostly.

The takaltu's spell fizzled, and its weapon clattered against the wet street. Yet victory came with a price. Curling its now-empty hand into a fist, Clod drove it into my ribcage with pneumatic force.

"Ufh," I grunted, nearly becoming airborne again as I thrust the improvised weapon toward the creature's face. It evaded the direct blow, taking the strike on its shoulder joint instead. The stone fragment wedged into the circular socket, forcing the overlapping plates apart enough to expose the luminous core beneath.

THUD!

Clod's opposite fist hammered into my side. Advancing closer, it wrapped an arm around my torso, crushing me against its unyielding chest. I struggled against the vise grip, but the creature's mass and armored exterior granted it a momentary advantage.

It hoisted me from the ground as I kicked both booted feet into its thighs.

Crack! Pop!

Satisfaction bloomed as my strikes fractured Clod's lower limbs. Simultaneously, I drove the stone wedge deeper into its shoulder, twisting the fragment to widen the breach even as my ribs groaned under increasing pressure.

Each breath became a battle. My hit points were plummeting.

I didn't care.

This was my element. This was where I belonged.

Every fracture my boots created in the takaltu's legs fueled a savage exhilaration. The growing intensity of the pink glow from its damaged shoulder washed away the pain of my own injuries. It took conscious effort not to accidentally slam my forehead against the creature's face.

Actually...

Why resist a good idea?

Clod adjusted its grip, pulling my head adjacent to its intact shoulder while interlacing its fingers behind my back.

CRRRRRACK!

That was definitely one of my ribs giving way.

Then I saw another problem. Visible over Clod's shoulder, Stoney was closing the distance, preparing its chain-projectile weapon. Having witnessed the devastating effect of that armament on Stanton, I had no intention of experiencing it firsthand.

Especially not to the face.

Until now, I'd resisted retrieving the Unforged Rod, reasoning that wielding it without understanding its nature might prove unwise.

If I'd had enough breath, I might have muttered something about briar patches and rabbits.

Reaching downward, I strained to access my inventory pouch, but Clod's embrace blocked the attempt. I considered wedging my hand beneath its crushing grip, but quickly abandoned the idea. The damn thing was just too strong for me to out-wrestle it in the time remaining.

That left one option.

Fingers trembling, I contorted my arm inward, sacrificing what little room remained. A fresh lance of agony shot through me as another rib snapped. Gasping, expelling my final breath, I compressed my chest as much as physically possible. Clod capitalized on this apparent weakness, constricting its hold until no space remained.

Through the dark spots dancing across my vision, I watched Stoney's spiked projectile streak toward my face.

My fingertips brushed the pouch.

Familiar weight filled my palm as mystic symbols aligned with corresponding symbols on the Unforged Rod.

With a silent roar, I yanked the relic upward, jamming its tip against Clod's damaged shoulder while angling the haft to intercept the incoming projectile.

PTING!

The metal sphere glanced off the rod at an angle before ricocheting away. Though not a direct hit, the impact accomplished what I probably couldn't have—driving half the sharpened tip through Clod's shoulder and deep into its upper chest.

The takaltu emitted a hissing, teakettle sound as it attempted to shove me away. My hand, now completely fused to the hilt of the Unforged Rod, wouldn't budge. When the creature pushed, it only succeeded in wrenching my shoulders backward, jarring the arm still gripping the chest fragment.

GLORP-THUD!

The takaltu's limb tore free from its socket, gelatinous fluid gushing from the wound.

With one arm missing, Clod's hold loosened. Gasping for precious air, I maneuvered around to its vulnerable side and placed both hands on the Unforged Rod.

From my new vantage point, I spotted the villagers. The old man was frantically working to remove the wire net from the woman's face, his fingers slick with blood.

Cold fury sliced through any remaining hesitation as I wrenched the rod sideways, intending to rip it free and bludgeon the creature to death. Clod shifted with the motion, inadvertently blocking my view of Stoney.

CRACK!

The spiked ball crashed into Clod's upper torso, shoving toward my grip. I held the rod in place, fighting to maintain my footing as the rod pushed deeper into the creature’s body. This unintended assistance wasn't what I'd planned, but I wouldn't reject the advantage.

I flung myself sideways, using leverage to exploit the growing fissure throughout the takaltu's body.

The dormant symbols along the Unforged Rod blazed to life, igniting in sequence.

THHOOOM SPLORCH!

With an explosive, visceral sound, Clod's chest sheared apart. The Unforged Rod pulled free, most of its length now sheathed in a pulsating red-orange aura.

I stumbled across the remains, balance compromised by pain and exhaustion. In any other circumstance I might have slipped in the gelatinous aftermath, if not for my boots' hovering enchantment. There was no time to recover my equilibrium. Agony barely contained, I forced my battered frame into action, charging toward my final opponent.

"That's an additional two percent," Vincent Price intoned in my ear. My HUD reflected the change, though I spared no attention for the details.

Stoney launched its deadly sphere toward me. The projectile curved mid flight, adjusting for my velocity. I thrust the rod outward, attempting to deflect the missile, but got the trajectory wrong.

Instead of redirecting the spiked ball, I merely altered its angle and reduced its momentum. When it struck my hip, it didn't instantly pulverize bone. Instead, it clung there, metal tips spinning as they burrowed through flesh and sinew alike.

The pain transcended description.

For several eternal seconds, my entire identity dissolved, reconstructed around a single focal point of agony.

I had no awareness of my actions, no recollection of what transpired. When coherence returned, I found myself clutching the chain connecting Stoney's weapon to its wielder. The adventurer hadn't released its grip, choosing instead to charge forward. It closed the remaining distance at full sprint, brilliant white eyes blazing as its free hand reached toward its inventory pouch.

In the heartbeat Stoney considered accessing additional weapons, the spinning projectile halted, and the chain began to retract. My fingers tightened around the links as I pushed off with my uninjured leg.

A sickle materialized in Stoney's grasp. It positioned the weapon, calculating the precise moment to strike as I hurtled toward it.

THWANG!

Crystal gleamed as a jade tea kettle rocketed over my shoulder, moving with the velocity of a bullet. It connected with Stoney's blade, shattering the weapon an instant before I collided with the takaltu.

A glimpse of enchanted metal reminded me of the twin blades extending from the projectile launcher. Twisting my torso mid-impact, I narrowly avoided full impalement. One blade still pierced my abdomen, sliding in beside my ruined hip. Frigid agony poured through the wound as I drove the Unforged Rod into Stoney's neck ring.

The jagged-tipped relic punctured stone with frightening ease, the remaining unlit symbols flaring to life upon contact.

Stoney grasped for my weapon hand. As it did, I jammed my free palm against its throat. Delicate plates crumbled beneath my desperate grasp.

My opponent seized the hand holding the relic, tugging frantically. I observed the pink hue of its core transforming, bleeding into a greenish-red as desperation flashed in its inhuman eyes. Vaguely aware of the creature's other hand inflicting grievous damage inside my stomach, I embraced the rage, wrapping it around my consciousness as armor.

CRUNCH!

Despite Stoney's considerable strength, its grip couldn't budge my hold on the Unforged Rod. The weapon had essentially become an extension of myself. More plating splintered as I curled my fingers into a claw and executed a violent ripping motion. My fingernails broke and shattered, a trivial sacrifice compared to the satisfaction of tearing through the creature's neck.

With savage determination, I wrenched my hand free. A fountain of gooey gore and stone followed.

SNAP!

Stoney's head, attached by only a thin strand of viscous matter and a fragment of stone, separated from the rotational socket. Its arms went slack, the embedded blade remaining in my abdomen as the appendage fell away.

We collapsed together, my body suddenly still atop its lifeless shell.

"Heal yourself quickly or you'll go into shock." The voice came from the well's direction. It sounded like the old man, though his accent had shifted subtly. Was there a hint of a Jamaican accent? "Inventory pouch. Hurry. There's still the squad leader."

Thinking was hard, and not solely because of lingering rage. I pressed one vambrace against the weapon in my side. After a moment, System magic activated, transferring something called a Takaltu Demolition Sphere into the magical storage compartment.

The man said, "Oh. You shouldn't have done that."

Fresh blood gushed from the wound as I mumbled, "Should have said so first."

I fumbled for Stoney's inventory pouch. Adversary Analysis triggered, flooding my HUD with detailed information. Ignoring everything except what mattered most, I located:

System Healing Salve (Universal) X 3; Moderate Grade

Summoning the item, which appeared as a green sphere roughly the size of a golf ball, I pressed it against my wounded side. It felt to me as if someone had applied a blazing torch directly to my injury.

I roared in agony as the System's voice slid into my ear. "Fifty points of healing applied. Also, you're up to a six percent boost from Furious Killer. You have twenty-four seconds before it resets."

Thud. Thud.

Initially, I mistook the pounding for my heartbeat. It wasn't. Raising my gaze, I witnessed yet another takaltu approach. This one emerged from the path the old man and I had traveled earlier. It towered above its fallen comrades, standing nearly twelve feet tall with twice their mass. Constructed entirely of obsidian stone reminiscent of the material used at Counterstrike base, this one's eyes glowed menacing pink.

My HUD identified this imposing figure as Squad Leader Volcanis.

Chapter 35: Shattered Bone

Unlike its subordinates, the commander bore evidence of prior battle. Its armored hide was riddled with damage—chunks missing from its torso and limbs, with numerous deep gouges across its frame. The pattern of destruction resembled the corrosive effect of the well's enchanted water, though I couldn't be certain from this distance.

Clutched in one massive hand was a battle hammer scaled to match its impressive stature. The striking end loomed nearly as large as my torso, every inch inscribed with glowing glyphs. More arcane symbols flickered along the weapon's shaft, their potent System magic searing my vision.

Volcanis adjusted its trajectory, each thunderous footfall cracking the cobblestone street beneath. Its movements displayed surprising agility for a creature of such magnitude, reinforcing that this was an opponent measured on a geological scale.

"Did we just go from Warhammer to Dark Souls?" I muttered, drawing the Demolition Sphere from my vambrace. The device materialized in my palm, System magic prickling as it automatically resized to fit my grip.

Pressing the activation button I'd observed Stoney use, I summoned the spinning ball. Magical energy gathered inches above my knuckles, the sensation comparable to immersing my hand in corrosive acid. With Volcanis twenty feet away, I released the mechanism, expecting the sphere to launch forward.

Nothing happened.

The squad leader hesitated momentarily, raising its weapon. When the anticipated attack failed to materialize, it rumbled with amusement and resumed its advance.

I clicked the button again, re-summoning the sphere. This time, I concentrated on my target, attempting to push the projectile with sheer will.

That did it.

The sphere corkscrewed toward the takaltu, chain trailing behind. My focus narrowed, tightening with a sensation similar to peering through a magnifying glass. The connection made thinking of anything beyond the projectile challenging, though not impossible. I attempted to curve the sphere toward the commander's face.

It responded…

PTANG!

Volcanis deflected it aside with a precise swing of its hammer. The motion appeared ponderous, as if the weapon strained even its formidable strength, yet delivered with precision that revealed considerable organic skill. With the hammer extended, I gained a clearer view of its damaged torso.

The devastation was far more than my initial estimate. Brilliant pink light radiated through chasms in its exterior, the surface as fractured and eroded as a weathered canyon.

Releasing the sphere's control button to recall the projectile, I glanced downward. The Unforged Rod pulsed with heightened energy. A spiral of smoldering magic coiled around the shaft and diamond-hard tip. I noticed a layer of parasite green nested within the predominant relic-orange.

Recalling what had transpired when I'd struck previously with the rod in this state, I calculated my chances. If I could penetrate Volcanis's defenses, I might shatter its already compromised armor. Maybe that would drop the monster’s hit points to zero.

Tightening my grip, I surveyed the battlefield, searching for any distraction to close the distance with this larger, faster adversary.

With a crushing gesture, Volcanis cast a spell. The air around me tingled as translucent energy began to manifest. I darted forward, attempting to outpace the effect, but the experienced adventurer adapted, dropping its hammer to make a scooping motion.

Too fast.

Multiple layers of basalt materialized around my legs up to the shins. Crushing pressure collided with momentum, and a bright line of agony seared through both limbs, indicating more broken bones. I strained to free myself, but Volcanis cast spell after spell, methodically entombing my body in System magic. Each layer locked another section in place—thighs, abdomen, chest.

Frantic, I attempted to recall the Demolition Sphere. As the chain retracted, fresh stone encased my hand. My other arm rose, intending to hurl the Unforged Rod, but stone imprisoned it before I could complete the motion.

With terrifying efficiency, the takaltu commander sealed me in a magical prison. Within moments, I stood immobilized, utterly helpless.

With my conventional senses neutralized, Mana Sensitivity painted the grim situation. I detected the solid concentration of magic that I guessed was the takaltu's core, pulsing at the extremes of my perception as a star of molten energy. I sensed the creature bending to retrieve its fallen hammer, which flared with near relic-tier enchantments along its length.

Volcanis approached methodically, neither hurrying nor taking its time.

Here, a proper villain would ask questions or gloat over their victory. During any tabletop session, Brian would have engineered the antagonist's fatal error.

I had a distinct feeling this wasn’t going to go that way. Worse still, if my assessment was correct, the "ambush" I'd anticipated had already been triggered against this very creature.

It had simply proven resilient enough to withstand everything the old man and Guardian had unleashed.

Drawing a painful breath that scorched my lungs, I attempted to break free through sheer force. The stone encasing my hands shifted slightly, developing hairline fractures but refusing to yield. I tried manipulating the Demolition Sphere's trigger, hoping to summon the projectile to assist my escape.

Nothing happened.

Straining until my muscles shrieked in protest, I felt the prison crack further, spider-web fissures spreading around both hands. Volcanis halted, positioning its hammer for the decisive strike.

I wasn't fast enough, wasn't quite strong enough.

But perhaps I could be.

The idea crystallized as Volcanis lifted its weapon.

I inhaled deeply, deliberately drawing the System's caustic mana into my lungs. Simultaneously, I remembered the fallen woman, her face mutilated by the cruel net.

No.

Not simply remembered. I lived that moment again.

Focus, Intellect, and Perception combined, pushing me into the state of focused calm Marvick and Chantal had taught me. Stillness and rage came, amplified and propelled by the sheer fucking insult of being held against my will.

Motion.

Screaming.

Pain.

AGONY!

Button.

Laughter.

Consciousness returned abruptly. Shattered fragments of my magical prison fell around me. Blood streamed from my mouth and from my eyes. My nose throbbed, undoubtedly broken, and several teeth wobbled loosely. Every muscle fiber had been pushed beyond natural limits as an arctic tempest poured from my core, intermingling with the brilliant umber and swirling green surrounding the Unforged Rod.

My right arm extended outward, finger pressed against the Demolition Sphere's trigger. A portion of my awareness remained focused on controlling the spinning projectile, which had struck the shaft of Volcanis's oversized hammer. Despite being caught off-guard and heavily wounded, the squad leader's strength and mass proved too substantial for the attack to halt completely. The hammer remained poised overhead at maximum extension as the takaltu began its downward swing despite battling both the weapon's momentum and the sphere's opposing force.

In a frenzy, I’d bought myself an opportunity. A heartbeat of time.

I leaned forward, ribs cracking, as I stabbed the point of the Unforged Rod directly into the cracked armored plates at the takaltu’s central mass.

KA-FWOOOOOM!

It wasn’t the explosion I’d expected. Instead of blowing through the creature’s chest, the relic sank deeply into an already-cracked gap, the edge slicing into the takaltu’s core. Upon contact, the relic consumed Volcanis with such violent force that its torso imploded.

My prison crumbled, depositing me atop a heap of obsidian fragments. In my grasp, the Unforged Rod transcended its previous state. Once merely a bar of glowing ice, it now projected a hurricane of energy several dozen feet skyward. Indistinct shapes materialized within the maelstrom of orange, red, and green chaos.

With multiple broken bones, bleeding from dozens of injuries, and on the verge of passing out, I felt no fear.

There was only awe and satisfaction.

Awe of what I held and satisfaction for what I’d achieved with it.

"Madman!" The old man's voice reached me, that Jamaican accent thicker than before. His frantic shouts penetrated my battle-fogged mind. "Sheath it! You must sheath the relic before it forges itself a new home. Bury it in iron or stone. Do it now, or who knows what your damn System will send to capture it."

"Huh?" I blinked away raindrops, attempting to locate the speaker. "How is she? Is she... okay?"

My neck refused to respond. The cool rain was pleasant against my battered flesh. So did the numbness spreading up my arm, erasing the agony of dozens of injuries. Upon reflection, I'd probably shattered both legs, hadn't I?

A silhouette approached, barely visible against the darkening sky. "PUT IT AGAINST METAL OR STONE!"

“Oh. Sure.” I tried moving the hand holding the Unforged Rod, but it wouldn’t respond, so I did the only logical thing.

Convulsing an arm that was barely in the socket, I brought the Demolition Sphere against the frigid relic.

The instant the two made contact, the vortex of arctic power slammed into the lesser magical weapon. I got the vague sense of a bodybuilder trying to wear a string bikini as the symbols on the sphere burned out, replaced with new ones.

Steam erupted around my scarred hand as the Unforged Rod vanished, merging completely with the Demolition Sphere.

“There you go.” The old man leaned over me, his craggy face now framed with feathers. Oversized, vibrant eyes regarded me as he made a gentle ‘hrmmm’ sound. “You know, I’ve been defended a few times in my life, but rarely as…enthusiastically as that. Guess we shouldn’t let you die.” Backing away, he tilted his head toward the sky.

“Kerinoth, give our new friend a little healing, would you?”

The rain changed, taking on a familiar tingle as the hovering Guardian responded.

My nose snapped into place as several teeth re-rooted. One I hadn’t noticed was missing regenerated so quickly, I barely registered what was happening. When my awareness caught up to it, the feeling was even more unpleasant than having my hip buzz-sawed to the bone.

I said, “Gahhh, I hate mouth stuff.” It came out more as “Gahhh, I haaacccht moufh stuuf.”

The restorative effect, feather light and pleasantly cool, worked down my body. When it got to my torn hands and legs, it slowed, as if the sheer volume of damage was difficult to overcome.

“He can’t afford to top you off,” the villager said. “There’s too much mana wrapped up in maintaining the lure. We’ll get you back on your feet though.”

I looked around, thoughts still fuzzy. “Who are you? And what about the woman? Is she okay?”

“You may call me Gost.” He pronounced it like it rhymed with Roost rather than Most. “As for the woman, she’s fine. Far away from here. Her decoy has seen better days, I’m afraid.”

“Her…decoy?” Sitting up, I looked toward the well.

Where the woman had been mere seconds before, there now was a very realistic, lifelike doll. It even had the net wrapped around its head.

“Lure. Honey pot.” I repeated the words, shaking my head. “I knew it was a trap.”

“It was,” Gost agreed amiably, offering me a hand. The magic he’d worn to make him look human was gone. In its place, he’d become much taller and more muscular. Fingers with several extra joints curled expectantly. “Come. We need to get you someplace safe, where we can talk, while Kerinoth resets the stage. If we’re not quick, another one of your kind will show up and ruin all the fun.”

Accepting his hand, I came to my feet slowly. Everything hurt so badly all I wanted to do was lay down for a day or two until it passed. “Guess I’m not the Hulk after all.”

“Hulk?”

“Ah, a fairy tale character from my world. The angrier he gets, the stronger he becomes and the faster he heals.”

Gost looked me up and down. “Ah. We have things like that. They are called berserkers. Their power comes from consuming rage elementals. No, I don’t think that’s you. From what I saw, you just stopped caring about staying alive. At one point, I’m pretty sure you literally chewed rock.”

“Sounds about right.” Taking a few aching steps, I bent over to pick up Gost’s tea pot. It was intact, the lid still in place. “Wish you’d had another of these, especially at the end there.”

“I have to be careful in my actions.” He crossed to me, taking the pot with a graceful gesture I took to be gratitude. “The System focuses on the Guardians. We want to keep it that way.”

I looked around and moved from one takaltu to the next, collecting their inventory pouches. Each of the defeated adventurers had one. I also collected two intact ‘slicers’ which my HUD identified as Anguish Scythes.

Finally, I went to the hammer. Bending over, I wrapped my hand around the handle, then checked my HUD for the details. It was called That Which Silences Volcanos. Unlike every other magical item I’d interacted with so far, it had an attribute requirement. The line read:

Warning: This magical item requires a 250-Strength score to wield. Until you meet this prerequisite, you may not access or use its magical properties.

I shook my head, barely resisting the urge to use Adversary Analysis to check more of the defeated adventurer’s details. The data was already in my HUD, so I could do that later.

Holding my second vambrace against the hammer, I tried to absorb the weapon. It took several seconds but eventually vanished, merging with the storage item.

Notice: You’ve gotten lucky.

Two objects appeared out of the air above the squad leader’s remains. One was a bowling ball sized pouch. The other was a ring.

I pocketed both, then turned to Gost. “Okay. Let’s talk. I have a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure you do, I do as well.” He hesitated, gesturing at the Demolition Sphere device, still attached to my arm. It had begun to smoke. “You may want to put that away.”

“Huh?” I looked down. When I focused on the handle, I received an update.

Untransformed Takaltu Demolition Sphere (Unstable; Overpowered)

Transformation Details: This device is in the process of transforming. It will finish doing so in a few minutes, or you can store it and re-summon it. When it reappears, the transformation will auto complete.

Unstable Details: You’ve shoved the power of a relic into a mid-tier magical weapon. It will self-destruct in 77 minutes; at which time the Unforged Rod will manifest anew. Be aware that wielding the temporarily amplified weapon will reduce the duration.

Overpowered: This weapon has been granted three random relic-tier weapon enhancements. The enhancements will be generated when the transformation completes.

Temporary Enhancements: The granted enhancements will reset when the Unforged Rod incorporates anew. Subsequent items similarly empowered will likely have three different, equally random, benefits.

“I just go through magical equipment like cheese,” I grumbled, storing it in my second vambrace.

Gost, having taken the lead again, stumbled as he glanced over his shoulder at me. “Like cheese? I like cheese. I eat it often.”

“Yeah. Like I said. I go through it like cheese.”

Inventory Update and Combat Summary

Inventory Notation: The listed inventory includes collected credits.

Dean Versus Takaltu Scout Squad.

Victor: Dean

Enemies: Three (3) Level 12-15 Takaltu Scouts; Level 25 Takaltu Squad Leader (Elite; Pre-Damaged)

Losses: One tooth (now regenerated); Lots of blood (mostly regenerated); Nearly 7 pounds of combined organs and bone (now regenerated)

Awards: 37,000 experience points; dropped loot.

Updated Inventory

1 X Takaltu Demolition Sphere; currently possessed by the Unforged Rod (and subject to degradation when used; will manifest with 3 relic-tier enhancements when summoned)

1 X Relic – Unforged Rod (With enhancements provided by the consumed spirit of Zetoliath) – Future quests and research required to fully utilize this piece of equipment.

That Which Silences Volcanos (250-Strength Required to wield/identify)

Ring of Stone Shielding/Burial (10 Charges)

Anguish Scythes X 2

Long Range Jumper X 2 (One with 2 remaining charges)

Augmentor Dagger (Summoning) X 1

Short Range Jumper (3 Charges) X 1

Survival Scroll X 2

System Healing Salve (Universal) X 9; Moderate Grade (Heals 50 HP)

Mind Net X 3

Inventory Pouches X 6

Gem Pouch (High Value Trade Item – worth 10,000 credits if sold directly or up to 50,000 in trade)

37,100 Exchange Credits

Chapter 36: Nuttery Buttery Fish

Gost led us away from the village, down a rabbit trail that wound through the trees and up a series of steep hills. We didn't talk at first, so I used the time to check the takaltu squad's quests.

I found the Adversary Analysis header on my HUD. The sorting function was grayed out, behind a Spend 500 Credits to unlock sorting on this menu note. Fortunately, it was auto-sorted from most recent to oldest.

Quest: Pillage (Hard Difficulty)

Assigned to: The Volcanis Supremacy Squad

Details: Your squad has been granted the privilege of being the first raiders on a world that has lost its Protected status. It has some modest defenses that are ill suited for combat. You will be sent to a village with a strong magical signature. Kill everyone you find. Strip the area of all resources.

Reward: Pillager title for all squad members; loot; 50,000 credits

"They were sent because of the magic in that village," I said.

Ahead of me, moving lightly despite appearing to be an elder, Gost made a curving gesture. "On purpose. I'm sure you gathered, but those were all traps."

"The items inside the glass cases?"

"Just so. You didn’t respond when I described how valuable they might be. How did you know they weren’t relics?" A slight respect tinged his voice, as if he hadn't expected me to see through the deception.

I considered how much to tell the stranger, both from the perspective that he'd probably, at least initially, intended to kill me, and what would be safe to say out loud on a quest world. Not knowing what a System Monitor could or could not see was worrying.

After several seconds of contemplation, I decided to give the man a chance. In his shoes, I would have behaved far more aggressively. Plus, he'd helped me at least once during the fight.

"It's called Mana Sensitivity," I said. "When I became Activated, the System added it as a trait. It lets me feel the strength and type of magic around me, sort of." I went on to explain a bit of how it worked, including the amplification of mana-based effects.

"Ah. You're Wild Blessed. Where I am from, that is a dangerous gift." His strange eyes lingered on me, assessing what this revelation meant.

I guessed he was talking about the double-sided nature of the ability. If the downside hadn't been disabled, there'd be an equal vulnerability to all magic that would match its benefits. "We, uh, I don't have that problem. I've been told that the odds of such a thing are pretty low. One in ten thousand or something."

Gost made a clucking sound. "One in billions, possibly trillions."

We came to the top of a lightly forested ridge. Turning, I saw the village stretching below us, the floating Guardian and continuous rain centered above it. Looking up to the fluttering creature, I felt a swell of gratitude. It hadn't had to heal me; sure, I'd been close to passing out, but in a few more minutes, I'd probably have recovered enough to use one of the devices I'd taken from the takaltu. Yet the creature, despite needing the reserves to protect its world, had done so anyway.

I murmured, "Thanks for the healing, Kerinoth."

"He says you're welcome, but warns you that our aid is not free," Gost replied. "He says you've been Elder-touched and requests details."

"Elder-touched?"

Waving for me to continue following, Gost took us along a well-traveled path through the trees. We emerged at the edge of a grassy plateau, an immense wooden lodge in its center. The structure was built of ancient timbers, their surfaces etched with faint, swirling patterns that seemed to shift when viewed from the corner of the eye.

"Elder is a term we use for beings born of magic," he said as we crossed the grassland. "Dragons, daemons, his kind, and so on."

"Oh. I see." Once again, I considered what to admit. "I saw a dragon. It's what Activated me to the System." I described the creature, but didn't go into detail about how it had helped me to defeat Vek. "And then there's the relic inside this." Lifting my arm, I wiggled the vambrace. "It's listed in my inventory as an Unforged Rod."

Reasoning it was safe to share information about a previous quest, I broke down what had happened during the Void tutorial.

Gost stopped us near the steps leading to the door of the cabin. Turning, he studied me with shining, over-large eyes. "You said the daemon's corpse was half-covered in growths, and there was a monitor with years listed on it."

"Yeah." I frowned, concentrating. "It said there was something around two hundred thousand years on the estimated time to conversion."

"Impossible." Looking toward the distant shape of the Guardian, Gost's brow furrowed. "It only takes thousands of years to convert one of the greater dragons. There are no beings it would take so long for the System to remake."

I waved my arm. "Want me to summon the relic? Would that help?" The offer was partially genuine curiosity, and partially a desire to see what the Sphere would become.

With a queasy feeling, I realized that I wasn't being entirely honest with myself. I wanted any excuse to summon the thing.

Gost held both hands up. "No. No need. There are auguries. We will..."

The urgency of my desire, so fresh after the battle with the takaltu reinforced my growing certainty that something was deeply wrong. I broke in before he could continue. "It's cursed, isn't it? I just knew it. This damn thing is making me addicted to it. I'm going to need to throw it into a fucking volcano, or it's going to take me over and mutate me into some sort of monster."

He made a rolling motion with one finger. "Too many words, too fast. Come inside. I will finish your tea, and you will explain." Seeing my expression darken, he adopted a soft tone. "Do not worry. The window for us to be enemies has closed and the gate of friendship awaits but a firm push."

Gost made a series of gestures, and the door clicked open. We went inside, with my host carrying the teapot to the equivalent of a well-equipped magical kitchen. It had symbols on countertop surfaces, along with magical artifacts that vaguely resembled household appliances from Earth. There were also several large containers along one wall, the symbols reminding me just a bit of the ones on my storage pouches.

I studied the rest of the interior, getting a strong country store vibe from the place. The main room had an open floor plan, connecting the kitchen, dining area, and living room. Multiple corridors branched into secondary chambers. Save for a few chests or bookshelves, every free inch of wall was set up to display wares.

A ten-foot-wide section of the living room was nothing but fishing supplies, including multiple rods. Nestled in the middle of that section was a crudely carved wooden sign that read, "Remember: if the fish isn't nuttery or buttery, try another hole."

I blinked at that a few times, hoping my HUD would retranslate the nonsense. It did not.

Other displays had a variety of herbs or crystals or odds-and-ends that probably had to do with old magic. The air carried a complex blend of aromas - dried herbs, the earthy scent of magic, and something spicy I couldn't identify that made my nose tingle pleasantly.

A gentle click drew my attention to Gost, who was putting the now-steaming teapot on a round table near the kitchen. Two plates, piled high with food, joined the tea. The dishes were ceramic but had a distinctive shimmer that suggested they might be more than simple pottery.

"Come, refresh yourself while we talk," he invited, gesturing to a wooden chair tucked under the opposite side of the table. He pulled another out, taking a seat. Producing a pair of stone mugs, he poured two cups of tea. Without waiting for me to join him, he caught my eyes and took a sip from each. "See? No more traps."

"Okay. Sure." What I wanted was answers, but I wouldn't say no to a meal.

Joining him at the table, I accepted both the plate and mug. I was vaguely amused to note that the meal appeared to be a large fish, the insides replaced with mashed potatoes and mixed nuts. Steam rose from it in translucent curls, carrying an aroma that made my mouth water instantly. "Nuttery buttery fish?"

"Indeed. Old stock from my...uh...cousin." His voice dipped, going thoughtful. "Haven't heard from him in a while. Not much left, I reckon."

I frowned at his tone, but didn't press for explanations. Lifting a spoon, I took an experimental bite. Flavors exploded across my tongue, and I nearly moaned in delight. It was, as described, both nuttery and buttery, but that barely did the description justice.

The potatoes were the creamiest, smoothest, and most decadent I'd ever tasted. Unfamiliar nuts added texture, and crunching them released bursts of pleasant, earthy flavor. Beneath those was the fish, which had the texture of chicken yet reminded me of top-quality steak—by way of magical steroids.

Smiling at my response, Gost joined in. Unlike me, he took small, patient bites.

I finished my plate in an embarrassingly short amount of time then tried the tea. As advertised, it was mint flavored. Drinking it sent dual rivers of warmth and ice down my throat. "You really need to stop using magic on me without asking first."

"Fair point," he agreed around a bite of food. "Don't worry. This is just to help read your aura. Without it, I couldn't answer your questions."

The dichotomy between the System's instant answers and ultra-convenient HUD couldn't have been more apparent or annoying. "Okay."

"You know, it occurs to me that you haven't told me your name yet."

"It's Dean."

"Dean, would you mind telling me how it is the System allowed you to openly defy its other adventurers?"

"You used magic to ask me that earlier, didn't you? I told you. I enjoy killing the System's assholes."

"You also said there was another truth," he pointed out. "What did you mean? What were you going to say?"

Pushing away from the table, I lifted the mug of tea and walked away, using the steps as an anchor. I'd come to trust Gost, more or less, in a matter of hours. Yet the reminder of how he'd pulled secrets from me left a taste that wouldn't be washed away with tea and fish. I took another sip anyway.

It was delicious, and the cool sensation accompanying the flavor was calming. "There's the truth your spell forced out of me. But there's also the truth of who I want to be." The man my brother needed me to be, I admitted to myself. "Do I enjoy killing? Yeah. Probably more than I should."

"And what do you want the truth to be?"

"I..." I hesitated, remembering Brian's words. He'd wanted me to be the fire to steer people home. A hero in the classic sense. That wasn't wrong; he hadn't been wrong to want that for me. But was that what I wanted? "I'm not sure how to put it into words."

Gost's chair slid across the floor. I heard him collecting the plates and carrying them into the kitchen. After several seconds, he said, "You enjoyed killing the takaltu."

"A lot. Yeah." It felt a little wrong to admit how much, even to myself.

"Was there anything you enjoyed more?"

I nodded, eyes closing at the memory. "Yeah."

"What was it?"

"Thinking that I'd be saving people at the same time."

He laughed. It was a musical, joyful sound. "And now we come to the part I truly do not comprehend. Why would the System allow one such as yourself, one of its Activated who is gifted beyond anything I've heard of, to fight its own?"

Now we were in dangerous territory. Anything regarding Counterstrike could lead to conversations I couldn't afford to have.

Thinking fast, I explained, "My guide told me that the System influences people's minds, especially as they get to higher levels, but I've never felt that way. Well, other than getting really mad, I guess. I'm allergic to it. Maybe that's why it doesn't do it to me." I went on to describe my headaches, and how System magic made them worse.

"Sensitive to magic, yet immune to the System's control," Gost mused once I was done. "That's...incredible. Impossible, I'd have thought. And you think the System allows you to go on missions against its own because of...?"

"Steward, my guide, says all it cares about is concentrating power. If using me against other adventurers leads to me, or them, getting more power, it's all for the same benefit."

"I see. That seems to fit the puzzle we understand about the System as well. Now that I understand your position, it's time for me to return the favor. Are you ready to find out more about your relic?"

"If you think you can."

He gave me a mildly amused smile. "Dean, I am not boasting when I say that I am one of the most qualified people alive to help you with this question. Now, why don't you have a seat right there? Yes. On the floor. We'll want room. I'll get the sand."

Chapter 37: Daemon Unleashed

I took a seat in the middle of the hardwood floor of Gost's living room.

He spoke over his shoulder as he walked to a collection of chests and jars lining a wall. "How much do you know about old magic?"

"Not much." I repeated what I'd been told, about how it was related to mystic gestures and words, and how the System sat on top of it.

He rejoined me, now holding a pouch in one hand, and with several others hooked to a belt around his waist. Opening the container, he began to sprinkle white powder in a circle around me. The sand fell with a soft hiss, almost musical in its precision, forming a perfect boundary that seemed to shimmer against the polished wood.

"What you call 'old' magic is fundamentally about intent and manipulating mana. The thing to remember is that there are a vast number of modifiers, or nuances. Every gesture or object incorporated can alter the outcome. To the impatient, it might be seen as painfully, even deliberately obtuse. To the lazy, the System might be seen as the more economical approach."

"But with the System comes control," I said, thinking of Earth analogues.

"Just so," he agreed, finishing the circle. The white sand glowed faintly, pulsing to a rhythm I could not hear. "What I do next will help us understand the forces applied to your magical self—the mana sheath that sits on top of your spirit. Once we grasp that, we will know more of the relic's nature, and whether it is augmenting or shaping the way you behave. Do you understand?"

"Not really but go ahead."

Attaching the first pouch to his hip, Gost gathered sand of different colors from the others. He allowed the grains to mingle, shifting them from one hand to the other as he mumbled words beneath his breath. The feathers around his face rippled with each syllable, moving against an unfelt wind. A gentle pulse of cold came from the mixture as he tossed both handfuls at me.

Skitter skitter skitter....SCREEEECH!

The sand rebounded off my chest, forming geometric shapes within the white outline. Rather than falling randomly, the grains organized themselves with mathematical precision. Two concentric circles appeared, one blue and one red. The blue circle was larger, filling nearly the entire space inside the white boundary, but its edges were jagged and uneven, like a mountain range seen from above. The red circle was smaller, extending only about halfway through the space, but its edge was clean and perfectly uniform.

A random smattering of green particles scattered across both circles, forming a web of interconnected lines that bridged between the blue and red. Finally, a jutting, triangular spear of mixed sand lanced directly away from my scarred hand, breaking through the white outer circle with such force that the boundary momentarily flared with violet light. The spike continued all the way into the kitchen, where it struck a wall.

Gost hissed, jumping from one foot to the other, knobby knees appearing beneath his tunic. The display was so strange, so utterly uncharacteristic of the wise wizard persona he'd adopted that I forgot to feel worried.

Laughing, I said, "Okay. Okay. What does it mean?"

"It means you were neither lying nor deceived," he said in a sing-song voice, still hopping around. His eyes had grown wide, his mouth open in a grin that might have been joy or maybe pain. The feathers around his neck stood upright, quivering with excitement.

"Eh?"

Capering around me, he inspected the sand from all sides before coming to rest near the spot where the sand had escaped. He jerked a single strand of gray from his beard, then held it near the projection. The strand curled, smoking and turning black, disintegrating into fine ash that spiraled in the air before settling on the triple-stranded spike.

"Oh me, oh me, oh my. This changes things. Dean, this changes everything. Do you see?"

I did not, in fact, see. Fighting an urge to step out of the circle and shake the man, I grumbled, "I'm here for you to tell me what's going on. Remember?"

He made a liquid, avian sound, speaking in a language my HUD did not translate. The syllables clicked and whistled, raising goosebumps along my arms. When he was done speaking, he slid into a crouch just outside of the ring, expression rapt as he pointed with one knobby finger.

"Keeping simple, this is your raw magic potential."

I followed his gaze, looking at the line of jagged blue that took up nearly the entire circle. "Why's it jagged like that?"

"Different strengths. You'd be strong at nearly everything, but you'd be extremely weak at..." He squinted, muttering for a few seconds, then finishing with, "illusion magic. And a few other types. Of course."

He indicated the line of uniform red. It was smaller than the blue one, only extending about halfway through the white shell. "This is the System. It puts a leash on everything. Controls it. Like we discussed, it limits growth but smooths things out. Everything in the System is limited by the System. You understand?"

"Sure. Okay. Sort of how a cookbook gives a chef a list of recipes, but if you don't have any hands-on experience with the ingredients, or how they are made, you can't innovate?"

Gost looked from his excited finger pointing to me. "Impressive. That was the most profound oversimplification I may have ever heard." His eyes sparkled with amusement despite the sarcasm.

I glared at him. He returned it with an impish grin, his excitement still bubbling over even in lecture mode. "Now, we get to the exciting point. It's the green bits."

Returning my attention to the sand, I studied the emerald particles that seemed to form a delicate lattice across the other shapes. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that they were organized into tiny strands, or filaments, no longer than a few inches and as thin as a hair. Each strand connected part of the red circle to the blue, creating bridges between the two different forms of magic.

That would be the parasite code, I guessed, without saying anything.

Gost said, "Where I come from, this color is associated with a force called the Wild. It's like chaos. In this case, I think it has a similar, but very different function." He drew his finger from the System's red to the green of the parasite code, back and forth repeatedly. "Can you see how it's similar?"

I couldn't, but I nodded along anyway. "Sure."

"It's like the System's magic is being turned on itself. Something is forcing the System to break its own rules. Instead of restricting your potential, instead of taking from you, it's doing the opposite. It's growing your potential, not merely restraining it. Here. Look."

He crouched, carefully avoiding crossing the white barrier, and indicated a place where the green sand overlapped with the red and the blue. "It's made a bridge."

"Okay. Sure. Interesting. But what about that." I tipped my chin at the spike of mixed sand that had broken through the ritual circle. The three-stranded helix gleamed in the light, almost pulsing with energy.

"Yes. Well. That's going to be a, uh, complication." His feathers flattened along his skull, revealing tanned skin beneath.

I sighed; certain the other shoe was about to drop. "This is where you tell me my relic is trying to bypass the System to control my mind and soul, isn't it? I'm going to wake up one day inside the body of some galactic monster, enslaved to its will."

Gost opened and closed his mouth a few times. "What in the ass-balls gave you that idea?"

"Okay, first of all, my translation magic probably didn't get that right. Second, it's kind of a common trope in the fiction of my home world. Magical items that make you want to use them are basically always evil and do bad things to their owners."

He thought about what I'd said, then held both hands up. "Eh. That can happen. It's true. But that's not the case here. No, this is totally different. Look closely."

I leaned forward, studying the shape. It appeared to be a triple helix, with one strand of burnt orange, one of bright red, and one of parasite green. The orange strand was the thickest of the three, and the red the thinnest. As I watched, the strands shifted, as if the magic empowering them was subtly changing even after he’d completed his spell.

"The green we know," he said. "It's whatever is bridging things, and probably the reason you're still alive."

"And the burnt orange is the relic," I said. "That's the color I've seen around every one I've gotten."

"Yes. Just so."

"What's the red?"

"I'm not entirely certain, but I think that's the taint of a primordial dragon." He gave me an apologetic look. "Dean, your relic isn't trying to fight you. It's bound to you fundamentally. I don't think it's even possible for magic to separate the two of you any longer." He gestured at the source of the spike, which had been woven into the blue line with several green ones.

I swallowed hard, recognizing some of what he was trying to tell me. "But why do I want to hold it? To use it so badly?"

"Oh. That. Your Mana Sensitivity? Seeing this, I don't think the System gave it to you. I think you were born with it. In other people, it would amplify magic."

"And for me?"

His mad grin returned as he pointed at the blue circle, the peaks of the ring brushing the very edges of the white enclosure. "It amplifies you. Your desire to wield the relic comes from the fact that it wants the same thing. You said it yourself. You like killing things, especially things of the System. On top of that, you're allergic to the damned thing. I think every part of you, at a fundamental level, wants to destroy anything the System touches."

Voice lowering, taking on an almost worshipful aspect, he added, “And I think both the dragon’s taint and the Daemon’s spirit want precisely the same thing.”

As he spoke, the scars on my palm tingled, sending a shiver of awareness up my arm. I stared at the marks, seeing them not as damage but as connection, a bond forged in violence and sealed in purpose.

“Is that why I black out when I get really angry?"

"Eh. Don't think so. But I can guess if you want."

"Please do."

"I think that your innate nature is similar to this Halk you spoke of. Or a berserker. It's just...who you are." Gost settled back on his haunches, his expression softening. "In my travels, I've met many men who are born with a brighter flame than others. They make excellent heroes or murderers. Fifty-fifty either way. Sometimes both."

His gaze grew distant, as if seeing beyond me to others who had walked a similar path. "Anyway, you lack focus. Blacking out is a symptom of your wanting to lose control. Adding the relic is just going to make that worse until you learn to control it."

I frowned, processing his suggestion. It fell in-line with what I knew about myself, even if the blackouts hadn't started until later in life, I'd always had anger issues. Inside the takaltu's stone prison, I'd chosen to give into the anger, knowing that I wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of what I had to do to free myself.

Was that it? Could it be so simple?

"This is a bit of a problem though." He stood, interrupting my thoughts to walk along the line of the sand spike. "It tells me that you haven't properly attuned the spirit in the relic. Until you do so, it can act without your knowing. It will do so on your behalf, of that I have no doubt, but you may not always know what it has done."

Remembering how I'd claimed the rod, and the spirit binding effect, I asked, "Are you saying it’s intelligent?"

"No. It's not intelligent. Not like you or I. Elder beings are different. They don't have souls. They are spirit. I believe what you have is closer to an incredibly loyal, cosmically dangerous, pet. One with abilities and instinctive intelligence that could make it an extremely tempting target. Come to think of it, I'm surprised the System hasn't sent an army of those damn kahrons after you for it already."

I was pretty sure I knew why it hadn't. If parasite code protected me, and the Unforged Rod was part of me, it only made sense that the System didn't have an accurate picture of what I possessed. Suddenly, I found myself wondering how the System saw me. Was I just a very lucky adventurer who happened to have a lot of potential?

"Okay. I'm assuming that having my relic acting out is a problem."

"It is, yes."

"How do I fix that?"

He smiled brightly. It looked a little forced. "That's easy. You just need to have a conversation. And then you need to impose your true purpose on it. When it knows your mission, it will sort of...fall in line."

"Uh huh. How do I have a conversation with it?"

"Remember that vortex thing that happened when you were in danger and I had you sheath it?"

"Mhm."

"Next time you see that, go inside. Just remember, you need to know your purpose. You say you've got two truths. I believe you. But maybe before you confront a timeless spiritual being with the capacity to resist the System itself for a few hundred thousand years, you go with a focused plan."

I eyed Gost, trying to reconcile the person who'd gone from wise old wizard-bird-thing to dancing around to mimicking a PE coach with a stick up his ass. "You're not entirely sane, are you?"

He grinned gormlessly, the brown and black feathers framing his narrow cheeks fluttering. "I'm excited. Besides, does it matter?"

Sighing, I admitted, "Guess not. I don't suppose you can teach me any spells, can you? That was my other side quest."

"Spells for combat or rituals?"

"Combat."

He considered, tugging at his bottom lip thoughtfully. "The problem is all magic requires a tutor and time. Both of which we don't have."

I looked around. "And you don't have a spell book or something to make this easier?"

"Nothing I can...actually, wait! That reminds me!" He held a finger up, then said a few words and scuffed the sand with his foot. The intricate patterns dissolved, the magic dispersing in swirls of color that briefly illuminated the room before fading. "Okay. You can move now, but don't leave the room. I have just the thing. It should help the gander and the other gander!"

Now I was certain my HUD was mistranslating Gost’s words. No one mangled their euphemisms that badly.

Chapter 38: Liches Love Phylacteries

Gost walked to a locked chest in a darkened corner of the room. Making even more elaborate gestures than previously, I heard multiple locks snapping open.

"So you're saying I need a teacher," I said, stretching my legs as I stood. "But you also said we don't have time for that."

"Precisely," he called over his shoulder. "And that, my flame-hearted friend, is why we need to consider a more... unconventional approach to your education." The chest swung open with the creak of ancient hinges, the interior expanding upward to reveal cunning shelves lined with small objects. Each one glowed with a different hue, some pulsing with steady rhythms, others flickering erratically.

Waiting for Gost to find whatever he was looking for, I felt a profound sense of relief. The sand spell had given me insights into my relationships with the System and the Unforged Rod in ways that my HUD could not. Knowing with certainty that the relic was on my side eased a fear that could have led to me not using the weapon at all.

There were other concerns, however.

Finding out I had a violent nature was far from a surprise. Trying to reconcile that with what I wanted, or with the fact that my blackouts might be self-inflicted wouldn't be easy. I wondered if my high attributes could help me push through it organically. If not, maybe I'd need some sort of specialized SAO therapist.

Gost returned, holding a black pouch. It was smaller than his others and had bright white stitching up the sides. For a second, I thought it vaguely resembled an inverted baseball. Then I noticed the pattern up the side was actually an extremely ornate weave, creating tiny mystical symbols that seemed to shift and reorient themselves when I wasn't looking directly at them.

"The problem is time. Even teaching you a basic combat spell could take days. Maybe weeks, since you lack the background and fundamentals." He offered me the pouch, which I accepted but did not open.

"And this helps with that?" I turned the bag over in my hands, feeling an odd weight that didn't seem to match its size. There was something unsettling about how it rested in my palm—heavier in some spots, lighter in others, as if the contents were constantly moving.

"In a roundabout way." He gave me an uneasy smile, feathers around his face fluttering with a nervous energy. "Remember how you were afraid of your relic controlling your thoughts and corrupting your spirit and all that?"

"Yeah." I studied the pouch more carefully, noting how the white symbols pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. "Is that what this is? Are you suggesting I use a cursed item to speed-learn spells?"

"Not precisely." He reached out, unlacing the drawstrings at the top of the bag to reveal the contents. Opening the bag wide enough for me to fully see inside, he wiggled his fingers, indicating I should manipulate the objects through the leather.

"Gaming dice?" I said, spreading them out a bit.

They were, indeed, a set of dice, from four-sided triangles all the way up to one with twenty sides. But these were unlike any gaming dice I'd ever seen. Each face was inscribed with symbols that shifted between ancient runes and mathematical formulas. Some had numbers that occasionally flashed between zero and infinity, others displayed arrows that pointed in directions that didn't seem physically possible. Several had symbols that made my eyes water when I tried to focus on them too long—sigils that resembled eyes, astronomical signs, and what might have been anatomical diagrams of fantastical creatures.

"I would not game with those," Gost said, his tone deadly serious before abruptly shifting to a cheerful chirp. "Not unless you fancy tinkering with mysterious powers." Drawing the pouch tight again, he wove a simple knot in the laces. "Once you locate Stephanos's treasury, the ones marked with arrows will guide you to the entrance. Among the implements, you may find his phylactery. That is what will teach you the spells you seek."

"Liches love phylacteries," I mumbled beneath my breath. "When you say phylactery, are you talking about the typical undead version? A soul stone they can use to regenerate their bodies?"

"Not precisely." Gost's head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. "Typically, these are less resurrection stones and more...duplication. You see, when they are first made, phylacteries copy a portion of the wielder's intent, memories, and magical signature. When someone who is weak-willed, or innocent, takes it up, the duplicated material imprints onto the newcomer."

"I'm not weak-willed," I growled, the very concept of someone trying to 'imprint' their mind over mine making my hand itch.

"Which is precisely where I'm going with this," Gost said, trying for a more encouraging smile. "May I finish?"

I gestured for him to do so, feeling the weight of the dice pouch shifting subtly against my palm.

"This order of mages used these phylacteries as a sort of teacher-apprentice method to pass their values and knowledge down from one generation to the next. Over a period of days, maintaining contact with the elder's phylactery would impart years of wisdom into the pupil."

"And you're suggesting what? I find this special phylactery and let it tutor me?"

"Ah. No. Not directly." He made one of those waving, hand-gestures of his that I took to indicate a firm disagreement. "You've got tremendous potential, but Stephanos was quite powerful. Some say he even had interactions with greater beings. If you were to hold his phylactery for any length of time, you could be in for a most troublesome pickle—not the tasty kind, mind you, but the soul-overwriting sort."

"If you don't get to the point soon, I'm going to go from worried to annoyed."

"Okay, okay! No need to give me the stinky eyeball," he replied, both hands up in surrender. "The opportunity is here." He gestured at my scarred hand. "If you can find his phylactery and merge it with that relic of yours, I believe it will act as a bridge between yourself and the System. If I'm correct, you'll be able to take what you want from the man's memories, with none of the corruption you fear."

"Merge it with my relic? You mean it's currently inside the Demolition Sphere?"

"Just so."

"What about the chances of Stephanos's reliquary corrupting my relic, or taking it from me?" I asked, absently rolling the dice within the pouch, feeling their unnatural movement against the leather.

Gost snorted. "The spirit bound to you withstood the might of the System's magic for hundreds of thousands of years. Stephanos was a capable magician, but he was no Elder being."

I thought about what he was suggesting, working through the chain of logic. My relic had merged with the Sphere and would grant me access to the device's abilities. No, it had improved those capabilities. Furthermore, it did so through my HUD, translating the relic's old magic into the System's text.

As Gost said, it appeared that I might be able to use the relic as a bridge, gaining the benefits of both at once. But how would it work with learning spells? My immediate concern was that installing any spell directly would lead down the very road I was trying to avoid. It might send me into shock or leave me in a permanent rage.

I mentioned the problem.

"Ah. Yes." He pondered, mumbling to himself as he collected the sand strewn across the floor. Using gestures and liquid phrases, he created several piles over just a few minutes. "My heart tells me you are right to be wary. It also tells me there must be a way through this maze. Unfortunately, I don't know the System and I wouldn't fully understand your capabilities without weeks, maybe months, of study. Perhaps the guide you mentioned can help? There may be other options and opportunities beyond these, once you find the treasury."

"Maybe."

That wasn't the straightforward answer that I wanted. Then again, there was an entire team on Earth to call on. If I brought the phylactery back with me, perhaps parasite code could fix the problem? Plus, regardless of which way I went, the quest remained.

Adding the dice to an inventory pouch, I said, "Thank you for your help. Just the peace of mind was worth it."

Crossing to me, Gost put one hand around my arm and squeezed. "Dean, you've done much for an old man. Knowing there is a force out there that can turn the System against itself changes the math. It gives warmth to a candle that has been dying for many generations. If I could offer more aid without risking myself, I would."

Looking into the strange man's eyes, emotions other than hate or anger stirred in my chest. A feeling like the beauty I'd seen in Chantal, or the delight I'd experienced eating the fish, the sensation was so raw that it took me off guard.

Compassion swelled in places I'd been certain only hate or anger grew. I imagined Gost's perspective, seeing what it might have been like risking his life to give his world a little more time against the overwhelming power of the System.

To have shown trust, to have extended his hand to help me, was a kindness beyond comprehension. Moreover, the thought of anyone hurting this man filled me with a resolution stronger than any rage.

I wasn't worthy of the hope in Gost's eyes. But I'd be damned if I wasn't going to become a man who was.

Even if I had to tear the System apart with my bare hands.

"I should go," I whispered around a tight throat. "Every minute I can get ahead of the other adventurers is a minute I can use to prepare. They'll be three times my level, and probably well-equipped."

Releasing my arm, Gost walked to another chest. Opening it, he retrieved several packages in brown, oily cloth, then brought them to me. "Here. Food. Thanderkand is a dangerous place for many reasons. You'll want options to avoid getting poisoned if the locals decide not to trust the System's message about you."

"Thanks." I took the rations, adding them to my stores. "Anything else I should know?"

"Stephanos and his ilk rose to power under the guise of defending the city against the System should it return. Although his power faded years ago, the mark of dark magic lingers. I wouldn't say that everyone there is bad, but there are consequences for living in the shadow of such a thing. Trust with care."

"Got it."

He walked me out of his house, revealing a sky filled with orange and pink hues. The Guardian fluttered in the distance, still showering the city with its rain. I thought I could make out people, the decoys, moving among the streets. A brown dress hinted at a woman, maybe even the one I’d wanted to rescue, although I couldn't be sure.

"Go that way," Gost said, pointing to a trail. "Travel until it hits the road, then take the road all the way to Thanderkand. Normally, I'd warn you of bandits, but I don't think that will be a problem for you. Will it?" He waggled his eyebrows in a way that managed to be both ridiculous and endearing.

"Doubt it." If there was anything the fight with the takaltu had taught me, it was that I was far from invincible, even here. I should have used stealth or a better strategy to fight those creatures.

Well, I'd learn from that lesson.

That meant not assuming that generic bandits couldn't hurt me. "No one's an NPC," I said beneath my breath. Then, on impulse, I turned and gave the old man a hug.

He returned it with interest, making a trilling sound of delight.

When we parted, his brown smock-thing was covered in flaking blood. I looked down, realizing for the first time since the combat that my clothes were ruined.

"Just like cheese," Gost said with a chuckle. "If you’re willing to stay just a bit longer, may I offer you a bath and some new clothes? Perhaps a couple sets, just to keep you from wandering naked for the rest of your time here?"

"Actually, yeah. That would be awesome."

Half an hour later, I was cleaned up, stocked with both food and clothes, and began my way down the mountain. As I went, I checked my HUD, which had details about the gear I’d taken from the adventurers. It did not, I was intrigued to see, have any notes on the dice Gost had given me.

Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t gotten them from a source touched by the System? Or maybe it had something to do with Gost himself?

I decided to avoid too much conjecture and focused on the details ahead of me.

New Item Details

Ring of Stone Shielding/Burial (10 Charges)

Details: This ring allows the wielder to cast either Stone Shielding or Burial without paying the mana cost. Casting these spells uses 1 charge.

Stone Shielding: Conjures a wall of protective stone that will move to actively block or deflect any incoming attacks from a 90-degree angle for up to 3 minutes.

Burial: Touch any creature with up to double your mass. They are buried up to 30 feet in loose dirt or 10 feet in stone. This effect ends after 1 minute. Be aware that most adventurers have sufficiently high attributes to hold their breath or break out of the imprisonment caused by this spell.

Anguish Scythe

Base Damage: 8-12

Details: This weapon has a 25% increased chance to deal critical damage, and a 2X multiplier on that damage. Attacks made with precision and care have an even further enhanced chance of scoring a monumental outcome. Wounds made with it take twice the normal amount of effort to close, with the first five hit points of magical healing being spent just to do so.

Weakness: This is a vulnerable weapon and has only 10 hit points.

Mind Net

Details: When applied to a target, this device will deal 1-3 points of damage every 3-5 seconds. While dealing the damage, the wielder of the Net may use their HUD to ask non-verbal questions, and receive honest answers. These answers will be translated and transcribed by the System.

Weakness: These versions grant the target a 30% boost to their Attunement scores to resist the effect.

Interlude: Injunction

Lieutenant Sharon McFay sat in a comfortable chair in the center of her personal Crossroads. Magical displays, each carefully calibrated to suit her personal tastes and the demands of her assignment, formed an egg-shaped dome around her. Soft azure light from the screens cast dancing shadows across her pale features and illuminated her stark white hair. One of those displays showed a copy of her true System details.

Class: Meta-Magic Theurgist; System Specialist

Level: 27

Her base attributes weren't as impressive as the all-too-lucky Dean, but between her array of titles, traits, and magical equipment, her Mind, Perception, Focus, and Attunement were all over 150. The combination granted her potent insights and an almost precognitive ability to predict the short-term future.

At least, she could in a high-mana area. On Earth, she was nearly as blind as everyone else.

The gap in time the Crossroads granted before she selected her quest had become invaluable to Counterstrike's mission. She used it to understand the System's grand plans and to predict what quests and rewards were likely to become available during the next Event.

Turning away from screens covered in schematics, analytics, and the results of dozens of spells, she focused on the puzzle she had yet to solve.

Dean Williams.

His arrival changed everything, forcing her to re-run countless calculations.

Coupled with the Event Burst and the old magic relics, he hadn't just shuffled the deck once. He'd potentially changed the very nature of the game.

“Okay, Mr. Williams, let’s see what fate has in store for you.”

Her HUD, upgraded with both System and parasite abilities, responded to her words, conjuring two forking paths on a blank display. In one branch, the System took Dean and his relics.

The loss of potential resources would deal a devastating blow to Earth's forces. Although the Event Burst was likely to translate into an overall boon, the setback from his death would be considerable. As for the relic, she didn't know. Sharon was a System specialist; old magic made her probabilistic abilities... fuzzy.

One thing she did know, however, was that every relic the System possessed became just another tool in its arsenal.

Several branching paths peeled away from Dean's demise. The majority amounted to a small dip in Earth's potential to resist the System's incursion. A few were downright catastrophic, with the System or one of its Monitors taking a more focused interest on Earth and the improbably lucky members of Counterstrike.

The other path was far more interesting.

Sharon's magic, which recharged nearly ten times faster while she remained in her Crossroads, crawled across dozens, then hundreds of potentials. Viable entries began to creep across the screen. Ninety percent of them simply stopped after a few seconds, ending in Results Vague and Warning: Old Magic Interference alerts.

The remaining ten percent stood out because they divided into two distinct forks. Her spell labeled them: Path of Domination and Path of Synthesis.

Labeled along the first path were keystone events. These were predictive elements, ones her magic saw as turning points in the fractal weave of destiny. The events were listed in short sentences, which she skimmed.

With the Jade Queen's guidance, the Apocalypse BREAKER loses touch with his humanity. His ascendency is defined by cruelty, violence, and consumption.

She read another.

Free of Earth's tether, his parents deceased, Dean's life becomes an Event. He no longer returns home upon completing quests; instead, he uses a Conquest to remain active permanently. When he finally returns to Earth, it is not as protector but Emperor of all humanity. When he is done, all upon the planet are Activated and follow their merciless leader's battle plans against the System.

Sharon's thin fingers tightened around the armrests as she read this potential future, her normally impassive face showing a rare flicker of dread.

The alternative had but one prediction, which was close enough to a cryptic prophecy to make her do a double take.

The outstretched hand of the Knight shall pierce the Veil, and the Apocalypse BREAKER shall make whole what has been eternally separate. He shall arise, and all within the System’s domain will tremble at his ascension.

"What does that even mean?" she muttered, less concerned about the dual paths than about all the others that might be concealed beneath old magic's influence. The holographic displays reflected in her eyes as she leaned forward, searching for patterns in the chaos.

The System's British-accented voice interrupted her musings. "Time runs short, dear lady. Have you selected a quest yet? If not, might I be of assistance in that delightful decision-making process?"

This was the best part of her class. Dean had a guide. She had the System itself. Well, a portion of it.

"What quest did Dean choose?" she asked, her voice betraying none of the anxiety she felt.

The predictive screen vanished, replaced with his selection. "Is there anything I should know about Thanderkand?"

Silence answered her question as parasite code, coupled with her unique brand of magic, dragged the answers from the recalcitrant System. The air in the Crossroads seemed to thicken as the struggle played out, magical patterns shifting across the walls in response to the unseen battle of wills.

After several minutes, it answered, its accent particularly pronounced as if to mask its reluctance. "Besides the normal challenges, agents of Telkazorin live there. It is likely one of his husks has arisen, allowing him to take a direct hand in events. It is our hope that Dean or the groups we've sent will deal with this infestation for us. Among other, unrelated objectives, of course."

She cursed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Telkazorin was a problem far outside of her league, let alone Dean's.

Thinking with desperate speed, she argued, "His quest is unbalanced. Two groups of three, all up to level eighteen, on top of Telkazorin. Let him form a party. Send someone else with him."

"All who would qualify are already on other quests." The System's voice carried a note of feigned regret.

"Could I deploy to him?"

"You?" The voice sounded wickedly amused, each syllable dripping with condescension. "But you always choose quests suited to your talents. You've told me yourself; you're a non-combatant. You would be ill-suited to this Event, wouldn't you?"

"And Dean is suited?"

"You know he is." The System's voice dropped to a silky purr. "Also, he made this choice. He could be shoveling excrement right now or having a relatively bland adventure fighting kahrons. It's not our fault he went for the second-most deadly quest that fit his parameters."

"Do I want to know the first?"

"Knowing what it was would trouble you deeply." The System's voice grew almost gleeful. "I'd be glad to tell you, if you ask."

Shaking her head, Sharon squared her shoulders. Now that she'd glimpsed many possible futures in his life, she knew she had to do something. Not just for Dean, but for the mission itself. "I want in. Will you accept my injunction?"

"With much satisfaction," the System purred, the words hanging in the air like a physical presence.

Text flashed in her HUD.

Injunction Accepted.

Timeline Note: You will be arriving approximately 10 hours' post-deployment.

"Ten hours? Why such a delay?" Sharon frowned, the unnatural glow of the displays casting her features in harsh relief.

"You've been busy."

Turning her chair around, Sharon surveyed the other screens, each filled with a bevy of other predictive models. "Ah. Yes." She'd lost time again. That happened when she was hyper-focused on her objectives—a side effect of her high Focus attribute that sometimes cost her situational awareness.

Her HUD updated with parasite code, the green text scrolling rapidly across her vision.

Cleaning Traces of Parasite Injection...

Refreshing Crossroads...

Transmission in Three...Two...

Chapter 39: Alien Stars

Making my way from Gost’s cabin, I used my HUD to change my belt and shoes to match the clothes he’d given me. Not only would they help me blend in with the locals, but I also felt maintaining thematic consistency was important.

The path wound down from Gost's dwelling through stands of peculiar trees with silvery-blue bark that shimmered in the fading sunlight. Their branches spiraled upward in geometric patterns dissimilar to anything I'd seen on Earth, and their leaves cast hypnotic shadows on the ground as light filtered through them.

It was near dusk by the time I reached the main road. Cut into a granite hill, the paved cobblestones subtly shifted colors as the angle of light changed. The road was flanked with stacked boulders, each covered in a fine layer of luminescent moss that began to glow faintly as darkness approached. Pausing next to one the size of a basketball, I tried picking it up.

I expected lifting it to be a struggle, if it would budge at all. Instead, I hoisted it with relative ease and held it out with one hand, forcing my body into a position that made the muscles strain.

Resuming my trek, I moved the rock from one hand to the other whenever fatigue set in. My combined attributes both lengthened the time it took to feel tired and shortened the recovery period. Over several miles, I discovered that I basically couldn't wear my muscles out with this method. Either I'd need a heavier rock, or two of the same size to get the job done.

I kept my eyes peeled for options as the evening turned to night. Stars in brilliant colors gradually brightened into view. Shining purples, vibrant greens, and burning amber filled gaps in the tree canopy stretching over the road. There were two moons, too. One a familiar silver-white, and the other a glossy matte black that was only visible thanks to its distinct outline.

"Hello, little world." The words came from the sky, broadcast in a way that was both personal and booming. It was like someone was making an announcement right next to my ear, even as I knew they were far away, addressing everyone in the area.

I heard the words in a strange language, with inflections I couldn't follow. The translation spell kicked in, changing it to the British man's now-familiar cadence. The sound reverberated strangely, as if the very air carried the voice differently than it would on Earth, making the words seem to echo even in open spaces.

"As you all know, you have lost Protected status. One adventurer has accepted a quest of clemency. Should he complete the task given, your planet will gain a new lease—ten thousand more years of restored status.” It paused, giving a sinister chuckle, “Assuming you don't violate our terms again, naturally."

An image of me as I was right now, complete with local wardrobe, appeared ten feet ahead on the road. It looked to be a semi-transparent hologram. The image maintained distance as I kept walking.

"You all know that we've sent other adventurers to prevent him from succeeding. It has, however, been pointed out that two teams against one lone, low-level hero, is not entirely fair. Thus, a second has been allowed to join in his misguided mission of self-sacrifice."

A second image appeared. It was Lieutenant McFay, the projection capturing her with uncanny precision, down to the slight furrow of concentration that typically creased her brow.

"We encourage you to help this pair in their quest if you want to continue to support the embargo. However, we urge those of you considering an alternative to remember that the System is fair. By embracing it, you will democratize the use of magic to all people. As an adventurer, you will qualify to see and experience all System worlds!"

I had all of a second to consider the implications of the announcement before the air twisted and swirled nearby. A pulse of burning, tearing sensation rippled across my face as if someone had opened a furnace. Then Lieutenant McFay appeared, as if a veil of concealment had been lifted.

Dressed in fatigues, she'd augmented her standard outfit with a pair of magical gloves, boots, and a gold-bordered white cape that cast an aurora of icy magic easily as potent as my belt. The cape billowed slightly despite the still air, as if responding to currents from another dimension. Her petite body had a fuzzy haze surrounding it, as if she were slightly out of sync with the world around her.

Seeing me, the white-haired woman gave me a slight wave and walked closer. My HUD popped up with an offer, the text seeming to float between us as a tangible thing.

Invitation to Party with Sharon McFay

Class: Diagnostic Mage (Non-Combat Class)

Level: 24

Green text appeared beneath the System font.

Parasite Insight: Sharon has a non-combatant class. The System calculates her value in martial quests to be less than half of her listed level, even with extraordinary equipment and HUD enhancements. The Party Details tab has been updated with full tutorial details for your review.

I accepted the invitation, and a new tab appeared in my interface. It was labeled Party Details and had several bulleted entries.

· Shared Experience has been enabled.

· Shared Loot has been enabled.

· Party Telepathy has been enabled.

· HUD Sharing has been enabled.

· HUD Sharing (Combat Plans) has been enabled.

Past the list was a big block of tutorial text that I didn't bother reading right away.

“Saw you were in over your head again,” she said as she came to a stop. “Hope you don’t mind a helping hand or two, Recruit Williams.”

“Not at all,” I said, looking her over. The sheer magnitude of her magical equipment was like standing next to a bonfire. Her gloves and boots were caustic, and her cape was a ball of ice that didn’t so much balance the first two out as much as add to my discomfort.

Seeing my expression, she took a few steps away. At around ten feet, the sensations became manageable. “That Mana Sensitivity is no joke, is it?”

“Not at all. Just how badass is your gear to feel so intense?” A faint metallic taste filled my mouth simply from being near her equipment, like licking a battery.

"In my field? Very." In contrast to the timid, mousy woman I'd met on Earth, this version of the Lieutenant met my eyes frankly, her stance sure. "If I'm correct, you should be able to acclimate in a few minutes. We just have to let your Toughness and Attunement catch up."

She looked me up and down, nose wrinkling. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why are you cradling a rock big enough to double as a mortar?"

I patted the rock with my off hand. "Strength training. I need to get my Strength score to two-fifty."

"Huh?" She tilted her head to the side. "You think holding rocks will do that?"

"Sure. Why not? I heal ten percent of my health every hour. It's Wolverine rules, right? If I push my body enough, it should adapt. Give me a few days, and I bet I'll add at least a point to my Strength and Toughness stats."

"I don't think it'll work that way."

"Why not?"

Brow furrowing, she appeared to be consulting her HUD. The air around her rippled with unseen energy as she accessed information beyond my perception. "No one else has gained attributes by training in that way."

"Has anyone done it deliberately?"

"Not to my knowledge. But why should that make a difference?"

I shrugged and pointed at my temple. "Call it intuition. I have a feeling. Something about being on a quest and pushing my body like this feels like it should work."

"You know listening to intuition is almost always the wrong thing to do, right? Logic and experience should dictate future behaviors, not emotions." She delivered the lines with near-inflectionless logic.

"Okay, Spock. How about we give it a little time and see if I'm right or not?"

She turned, taking in the road and the forest surrounding us, then the starlit sky. "Provided it doesn't interfere with combat engagements, fine."

"Pretty sure having a half ton of granite as a missile weapon won't hurt?"

"That is a fair point." Extending a hand down the road, where mist was beginning to rise in spiraling tendrils, she added, "Shall we? I assume you've got a place in mind for lodging, or have purchased a Safehouse item?"

"Safehouse item? I don't have access to the Exchange, if that's what you're talking about. Haven't earned enough credits yet."

"Oh. Yes." She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "Your unusual circumstances make it difficult to remember just how new you are. Well, no matter, I have one. Do you want to find a place to make camp?"

I frowned, not feeling the need to rest. Maybe it was a function of my Toughness or the rapid healing the System provided, but I was confident that I could continue at my previous pace for several hours. The twin moons cast enough light to make the road clearly visible, and the bioluminescent flora that lined much of the forest path took care of the rest.

Not that I’d been worried about footing.

"The quest said I'd get a lead on the rival parties, but I spent most of the day dealing with something else. I want to make up the lost time. Unless you're tired?"

"A little, but I can cast a spell to refresh my reserves." She gestured, fingers weaving complex patterns that left trails of blue-green light in the air. An aura of aquamarine light suffused her body. "Okay. Let's go. I'd like your report on the ‘something else’ bit. Weren’t you ordered to avoid distractions?"

Between her demanding tone and the scouring effect of her magic, I nearly snapped back at her. As it was, I forced myself into motion, walking down the path at speed. Much to my chagrin, if not surprise, she kept up easily, her boots glowing faintly in the darkening night.

"Recruit Dean, I expect answers. We're on a mission together, but that does not change the fact that I am your senior officer." She moved beside me. Doing so put the aura of her magical items within just a few feet. It was a deliberate maneuver, one that spiked discomfort into a full-fledged headache.

Who the fuck did this woman think she was?

The anger came hard and fast. I bit my tongue. Hard.

It took several long seconds of breathing and pushing myself into a quasi-meditative state before I could rationalize the commanding officer's tone. Once I'd reminded myself that I was in the military and represented a huge investment from more than just my government, the worst of the outrage abated.

Keeping myself centered, I explained what had happened and why, including Gost's use of old magic to help me understand the Daemon-infused relic.

A few minutes into my story, the painful sensation of being near the Lieutenant gradually faded. It was a bit like adjusting to background noise or standing under hot water. The feelings didn't go away entirely, but I could stand to be near her without wanting to rip my own skin off.

"You shouldn't have gone in," she said once I was done. "Wanting to help people was admirable, but you said it yourself. That place was a trap. If the System hadn't literally told them you were here to help restore their Protected status, you'd be dead."

"But it worked out fine. On top of making a local ally with valuable information, I also got equipment that I needed."

"It worked out this time," she said, emphasizing the last two words. Her cape rippled dramatically as she gestured, sending whorls of frost into the air that dissipated like smoke. "I could give you a report of dozens of other recruits who fell, or were seriously injured and failed their missions, from making similar decisions. The fact that you got answers about your relic or new gear doesn't outweigh the risk of losing your life to a random adventurer you're not even meant to fight."

But I'd wanted the fight. I'd been craving it since arriving back on Earth. Even now, mere hours after nearly losing my life to the rocky bastards, I wished one of them would pop out of the forest just so I'd have someone to hurt.

Instead of explaining all of that, I said, "Yeah. Got it. What do you think about what Gost said?"

I caught her mouth tightening out of the corner of my eye and expected her to argue. Instead, she held a hand up, making a simple gesture. The air between her fingers shimmered and split, revealing glimpses of mathematical formulas and probability curves that twisted in impossible ways. I felt the potent spell unfold from her as a cloth, warping reality around it. It felt like a much-expanded version of the HUD, one that would cover most of her vision.

She said, "Odds are good he wasn't lying. Odds are just as good that he was hiding things from you." A wind picked up from nowhere, carrying the aroma of something burning.

"I didn't think he was lying."

"Recruit, everyone on a frontier world is probably looking to kill us. Assume they are all liars. Even the ones who look like innocent old men." Her voice carried the weight of painful experience, the words sharp.

"Okay. Fine. We’ll agree to take everything he said with a grain of salt. How’s that?”

“At least a grain of salt would be prudent,” she agreed.

“Fine. What about his idea regarding the phylactery and my relic?"

We were moving so quickly that we'd probably gone a mile or more. The forest around us only grew in density, a chill wave of ambient magic pouring through the branches as they swayed in the breeze.

Several distant lights, barely visible above the gemstone brightness of the stars, flickered into view as we crested a ridge. From a quick glance at my map, I saw the lights would parallel our path to Thanderkand.

Sharon didn't comment about the lights, although I saw her eyes flick from her ongoing spell in their direction. "If the spell you learn uses traditional methods to cast, it shouldn't matter how you learn it."

Intrigued about the distant lights, but equally curious about her insights, I said, "Can you elaborate?"

"Sure."

We kept walking. Judging by how quickly the terrain changed, I guessed we were probably doing at least twenty miles an hour. I didn't even feel winded. The landscape blurred at the edges of my vision, but remained crystal clear directly ahead, another benefit of my enhanced attributes.

She held two hands out, one on top of the other. Wiggling a finger on the top hand, she said, "Remember how the System sits on top of old magic like an operating system?"

"Mhm."

"All of the fundamental functionality the System does, old magic can also do. As your friend Gost told you, the System restrains old magic. Makes it easier to manage. That doesn't change the fact that old magic is the underpinning principle. You can still use old magic spells in System space. They can do a ton of crap the System doesn't allow. The problem is, it's always more difficult, more time-consuming and, frankly, more dangerous. If the System wasn't a sociopathic dick weasel, it might even be a good thing."

The 'dick weasel' comment earned a chuckle that only lasted a second as I worked through what she'd said. Hearing her phrase things that way made total sense. "You're saying that it doesn't matter how I get the knowledge. What matters is the nature of the knowledge itself."

"You got it. If you learn all the words and gestures to cast a non-System spell, that's what it will be in your head. It will function just as if you'd learned it the traditional way."

That was one hell of a relief. I sighed. "Good to know that's an option."

Sharon fell into silence after that, her body on autopilot as we walked. I considered asking more questions but withheld as each time I looked at her to do so, her expression was one of intense concentration. I got the feeling that she wasn't entirely pleased with whatever she was reviewing.

"I'm bothered by something you said about Gost," she announced after we'd gone several more miles, probably about halfway between where we'd been and the flickering lights. The scent of burning had intensified as we went, now distinct with an aroma of cooking meat.

"What's that?"

"His access to a language the System couldn't translate. Can you guess what that means?"

I lifted the boulder over my head, transitioning from simply carrying it to doing extensions. The night was growing colder, and the motion warmed my limbs. "I'm assuming no one else has access to our technology, so my assumption would be that the System hasn't encountered the language before?"

"Not just the System," she corrected. "Any of the magic it has access to. We're talking about extreme outworld races here. Things far beyond even the frontier worlds, at best."

"You make that sound like a problem."

"I don't like anything that changes the predictive models." She made a gesture, and I felt the spell that had been hovering in front of her vanish. "My job is to analyze the System. To know it as intimately as any human can. I and the other analysts all use this to create a roadmap, a plan for our people so we can survive the System's invasion. Crap from beyond known reality doesn't throw wrenches into the mix. It's a damn bomb. Your fiasco with that relic of yours was already a lot to handle. Just knowing Gost exists only adds to the mix."

"Isn't having more information better than less?" I asked.

"Usually. Yes."

"Well, in that case, I'm not sorry about going into that town."

Her eyes gleamed as she glared at me. I forced myself to return it with a grin. Yes, she outranked me. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to remind her whose quest this was, even if that meant being a little insubordinate.

System Details: Party Management

Party Management – Introductory Tutorial

Forming a Party: Parties may only be formed with up to 6 people. To form one, visit your Party tab while looking at any adventurer and choose the ‘Invite to Party’ option. If any of the various telepathy upgrades have been enabled, you may also invite party members telepathically. Parties remain intact while all members are on the same quest regardless of distance. If a group forms a party while not on a quest, there is a maximum allowed distance between members. This varies, depending on level, local mana level, etc.

Shared Experience: By default, experience points are shared based on total overall contributions, with a number of factors and variables influencing the calculations.

Automated Experience Balancing (Optional Enhancement; 22,000 credits) If any member of the party has this enhancement, experience points will be normalized for all members.

Shared Rewards: All rewards listed will be provided to each contributing member of the party unless otherwise noted.

Shared Loot: By default, loot will have to be manually procured and sorted. If members have an ability that allows them to identify and collect loot magically, these benefits will not be shared with other party members.

Advanced Looting (Optional Enhancement; 27,000 credits) If purchased, all common loot powers will be shared within the group. This includes automated identifications, the ability to directly transfer loot to storage pouches or personal inventory spaces, etc. It does not grant each member access to bonus loot traits or spells, however.

Telepathy: By default, party members do not share telepathic communications.

Party Telepathy (Optional Enhancement; 45,000 credits) If any member of the party has the Party Telepathy enhancement, all members can share telepathy while in a party. Note that this is distinct from Group Telepathy, Local Telepathy, or other features.

HUD Sharing (Optional Enhancement; 8,000 credits) By default, party members cannot share HUD data directly. The HUD Sharing enhancement allows this.

HUD Sharing - Combat Plans (Optional Enhancement; 210,000 credits): To purchase this upgrade, one must first have both Party Telepathy and HUD Sharing. With it, combat plans may be shared telepathically over the HUD and include things like complex diagrams and ability details, etc.

Chapter 40: Stakes

We came to a fork in the road. A wooden signpost next to it had two wooden arrows nailed to the board. One pointed west, to Thanderkand. There was no distance indicator, but my HUD told me it was another thirty miles away. The other arrow pointed to something called "Guvarri Quarry."

A riot of sounds came from the direction of the quarry. I heard cries of alarm, screams of pain, children wailing, and commanding voices over it all. It was too far for me to make any details out, but the aroma of burning meat came from that direction.

McFay, already several feet down the path to Thanderkand, turned to me. "Why did you stop?"

I pointed toward the screams. "I want to know what's going on."

She shook her head. "It's not something you'll want to see. Stay on the quest."

"It sounds like you know what's happening."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she adopted a position of stern disapproval. "I've been through a lot of Events. This isn't my first time visiting a frontier world." Pointing at Thanderkand, she continued. "The System has given you a curated path. It's not going to be roses and flowers, but part of the process is to gradually acclimate you to other worlds."

She must have read the protest on my face, because she pushed on. "Recruit, your profile makes it clear that you'll make rash decisions under pressure. What's happening over there is beyond either of our ability to do anything about, and it's not something you're ready to see."

Maybe it was the System, or just coincidence, but a fresh wash of fearful, desperate screams carried to us at that moment.

There are two truths.

I don't know what overcame me. In the heartbeat after Sharon finished telling me what I couldn't do, I was already turning, moving with deliberate speed toward the quarry. A swirl of conflicting emotions blew through me as I picked up speed.

There was defiance and anger, naturally. A lot of it was directed toward McFay. Some, however, was aimed squarely at myself. My initial instinct had been to listen to what she said, to just walk away and let whatever was happening happen. It was the second thought, the one that reminded me who I wanted to be that sent a river of painful guilt through my heart.

"Damn it, Recruit," she said, rushing to catch up. "Stop! Damn it, Dean, stop. If you're going to do this, let's do it properly. Can you hear me? I said STOP!"

I turned, seeing her pale, sharp features were flush. That arrogant, commanding expression she'd worn earlier was mostly gone, replaced with concern. I ignored it. "I'm going to see what that is for myself."

"You've made that clear," she retorted. "If you're determined to throw yourself to the grinder on your second Event, let me help you survive at least. I'll cast a concealment spell on us both. We'll use telepathy to navigate. If you promise to be careful, I'll try to make sense of what we're about to see."

Still not convinced that there would be nothing I could do, I gave her a grudging nod. "Fine."

"And once you've seen enough, we resume the quest. Okay?"

"What if we could help whoever that is?"

Her eyes flashed with cold certainty. "We won't. And trying to intervene will only get you killed. Now, swear to me. Once you're done traumatizing yourself, we get back on track."

"Sure."

She guided me to a spot in my HUD that would default all future communication to telepathic, unless we were talking to someone outside of our party.

I toggled it on and received a pop-up.

Party Telepathy Enabled: Unless otherwise specified, anything you say will be routed telepathically. You may continue to move your mouth, but all speech will be muted and instead transmitted via HUD enhancement.

With that in place, she cast a spell on each of us. Supposedly, it was invisibility, but on steroids and should keep even the most subtle clues of our presence from anyone we didn't make direct contact with.

It wasn't just any spell; it was an extremely powerful one. When she cast it on herself, it was like standing next to a coronal mass ejection event, at least for my Mana Sensitivity. I fell back, stumbling to escape the sensation.

Then she cast it on me, too.

I'd become somewhat accustomed to the discomfort of traveling with her over the past hour, so the feeling of the spells layered on top of one another wasn't nearly as traumatizing as it might have otherwise been. It only took a few minutes to stop screaming in agony while I adjusted to the lava-all-over sensation.

When I finished, she moved next to me. Her fuzzy aura now shone with eye-catching highlights, and her proximity was even more uncomfortable. On the positive side, I felt myself adjusting far more rapidly than I had when she'd joined me on the quest.

Offering me a flask, she said, "Good thing the sound dampening kicked in before you did all that."

"Why was that so awful?" I asked, taking a swallow of the contents. It was just chilled water, the cool liquid both refreshing and restorative.

"Probably because it's your first time having a spell that expensive cast directly on you. All-Concealment costs three hundred mana." Her reply was so bland it bordered on sarcastic.

I considered that she just might be taking a little satisfaction in my suffering, given that I was forcing us to make this detour. Passing the flask back, I said, "Does that mean you think the reactions will get better?"

"Yes, it's just a matter of how long that will take." She lifted a hand to her chin, eyeing me thoughtfully. "You know what? Repeated exposure to a spell of that caliber could be useful. Think of it as future proofing you against foes who use high level spells. Assuming you live that long."

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Recruit?"

"You're a bit of a sadist, aren't you?"

"Only sometimes, like when I'm trying to protect someone who is determined to make an ass of himself."

I glared at her. It had no effect.

A timer and description of the spell she'd cast appeared in the upper corner of my vision.

Spell Enhancement: All-Concealment

Status: Active

Details: Provides comprehensive protection from standard organic and magical senses.

Remaining Duration: 18 minutes 34 seconds.

"Let's go." Leaving my strength training stone behind, I took the lead, moving at speed to get to the destination while the protective spell remained. The last thing I wanted was for her to cast the spell on me again anytime soon. Not unless she had to.

It didn’t take long to find the source of the cries. They were coming from a campground full of wounded, frightened people. Sharon and I moved around the area, taking in the full layout.

One quadrant, maybe a quarter of the space was occupied with tents and cookfires. No doubt those were the source of the meat aroma I’d picked up earlier. The middle section was full of thousands of milling people. Illuminated by magical orbs that hovered over their heads, they came in all manner of sizes and shapes, from humans to a wide array of builds I hadn't encountered. There were short, burly types that could have been mistaken as dwarves, and lanky ones that might have been elves.

Neither was quite what I'd have expected; the System's reach appeared to fall short of a straight Tolkien rip off. The dwarf-looking people had four sets of wide spaced eyes, and the tall ones had elongated, conical heads.

There were far more variations than just those, so much so that I couldn't begin to process it all, not while scanning for other details.

Ten stone archways, each uniform and thirty feet tall, were evenly spaced around the grounds, away from the tents. Four were dark. Six were lit with bright white-gold light, a constant stream of fleeing, panicked people rushing from within the arches and into the encampment. Robed figures stood near the active arches; gloved hands outstretched as they poured mana into maintaining the magic.

The spells were so potent I could feel the intense chill from half a mile away.

Men and women wearing glowing armor, wielding weapons, moved among the mass of fleeing refugees. Each carried a smoldering brand, the tip glowing bright green. They wove through the throng violently, shoving people around as they waved the metal around, bringing the tip within a few inches of everyone in range.

I caught sight of the green tip flashing orange as a bulky man neared one of the elf-like people wearing a tattered, blood-stained robe. As soon as it did, he called, "Infected! Purge Him!"

Drawing his sword, the armed man struck the elf. Other refugees, including other elves standing nearby, joined in the violence. In seconds, they'd ripped the man apart.

McFay spoke telepathically, the sound reaching my ears just as if it were her normal speaking voice. "Frontier worlds usually see the System as an affliction and treat anyone who accepts it as diseased."

"Accepts it?" I said, glancing over to see her watching the proceedings. Her expression had gone flat. "Is there a choice?"

"For those who know the old magic ways, yes. Either they capitulate to having their knowledge extracted or the System will use adventurers to purge them forcefully."

"Not much of a choice." I gestured at the throng, where a continuous influx of people threatened to fill the area. "Is there a reason not to let them survive?"

"The System is infectious," she reminded me. "At low levels, it doesn't do much. After a few Events, even the kindest person is going to become driven by the need to compete and grow more powerful. In most cases, it takes whatever a person’s worst traits are and amplifies them, sometimes to the point of parody. At high levels, adventurers become totally amoral, doing whatever it takes to jockey for higher position in the System's hierarchy."

Her explanation made me frown, an uneasy realization bubbling up. The System fostered violence and competition. I didn't think of myself as competitive, but it was impossible to argue that I wasn't violent, either.

WHOOOOM!

An echoing blast came from the far side of the field. Light shone from that area, although I couldn't see the origin. Skirting around the throng, I began moving in that direction.

"You said you knew what was happening," I said as Sharon moved next to me. Her cape fluttered behind her steps, and she kept her eyes locked ahead, posture stiff.

"I can make an educated deduction."

"Well?"

She glanced at the field, reflected lights from distant spells shining in her eyes. "Those teleportation devices are ancient. Hundreds of thousands of years old. I'm thinking the people with the rods and the ones keeping the gates open have been preparing for this. They opened the gates so other frontier worlds could escape the System's spread."

"By 'this' you mean the world losing its Protected status?"

"Right. While a world is Protected, the System restricts travel. It even floods the adjacent magical planes with monsters, just to make things worse for the locals. Communications aren’t as tightly controlled, so those other worlds may have been waiting for this very opportunity for who knows how long."

I didn't have time to process what she was explaining before we arrived at the next scene. Brightly illuminated with a combination of starlight and flashing spells, it was the edge of an enormous rock quarry. Thousands of feet across and hundreds of feet deep, it tapered sharply toward the bottom. Stone bulwarks lined every inch of the interior, with people standing or crouching on top of them.

All were looking down to a courtyard style space maybe two hundred feet across. It was filled with corpses, so many of them I couldn't begin to guess at the number. I saw a speck of rock between bodies and figured that the pile of bodies was at least fifty feet deep.

As the Lieutenant and I arrived, teleportation effects triggered and a mass of several dozen gray skinned kahrons came flying out. Brandishing clubs and swords, they were covered in glowing spells. Stumbling on the corpses, they hurtled themselves toward the defended heights, only to be mown down by a mixture of arrows and spells.

I started to ask what was happening when another wave of people arrived. This time it was armored adventurers, many of them human looking. The group sent volleys of sizzling System magic hurtling into the defenses, the impacts burning many to death in a heartbeat.

A robed figure from one of the top structures, maybe a hundred feet from where Sharon and I had come to a halt, stood. I saw a flash of multicolored, disfigured hands as it gestured. It felt like the person conjured an iceberg as the bodies beneath the adventurers began to writhe, bone spears shooting from the corpses to impale the System's attacking force.

Where the spears struck, bodies twisted, blackened, and fell.

"We call it the Churn," Sharon's whispered thoughts were flat in my mind. "We don't know why the System does this. Maybe it's to bleed off adventurers near retirement. Maybe it's to punish ones who have displeased it. Whatever the reason, when it starts to invade a world, it picks a spot like this and announces it to the locals. As long as the defenders hold, it promises to limit other assaults."

"Limit but not stop."

"Right."

"And now it's told the entire world that the two of us may be their only chance to stop this."

"Right."

"But if we do so, we'll also be closing the portals to refugees from other frontier worlds."

"Yes."

If hearing about the System's actions on other worlds hadn't been enough to make me hate everything it represented, what I saw unfolding before me did it. Both hands curled as I barely resisted the urge to summon my relic and aid the defenders.

The spells and weapons flying before me were far outside of my experience or capability to withstand. Sharon had been right: there was nothing here for either of us to do.

Knowing that didn't stop the feeling that I should be able to do something.

"It put this Churn bullshit next to the refugees for a reason, didn't it?" I growled the question through gritted teeth. "If these defenders give any ground at all, the adventurers will break through and start slaughtering them, won't they?"

She didn't reply.

I looked over, seeing a sheen of unspent tears in her eyes.

"It's worse than that," she replied. "When they break through the defenders, the System will send one of its high-level engineers over to overwrite the teleportation rings. It'll take time. Recoding powerful old magic isn't easy. But the stones will fail. Nothing withstands the System for long. Once they finish, that campground will become a staging ground for activities that will lead to the siege of not one, but seven, worlds.”

My hand shook, scars growing tight. If what Gost had told me was true, both the daemon's influence and the dragon's taint had aligned with my desire to stop the System. What I felt now, seeing this, hearing her describe so much atrocity, made almost anything I'd ever felt feel washed out.

It wasn't anger. That wasn't the right word. I was incandescent. Only the absolute certainty of my death or worse, of risking costing my companion her life, gave me the will to remain where I stood. "You make it sound like the defenders can't win."

"The Churn will last long enough to exhaust them. Once it’s over, the System will invite inner worlds guilds to clean up. Nothing here can withstand seasoned veterans. You can’t even begin to imagine what truly high-level adventurers are like, Dean. It’s… apocalyptic."

Nothing here can withstand what will come with them.

I waved at the defending army. “Can we tell them about our mission? Let them know we need their help to stop the two groups?” Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer.

“The System sometimes reacts poorly when it sees deliberate interference with its plans. It wouldn’t take overt action, but it might adjust things in subtle ways. For example, it may not change our mission, but use the opportunity to apply more pressure here, which would lead to catastrophic outcomes that could be even worse. Besides that, it’s unlikely these people would listen to us. To them, we are the enemy.”

Against the backdrop of so much death and fear, I accepted her wisdom. "That’s what I thought. Okay. I've seen enough. Let's go."

She'd been looking at the pit, lost in thought. When we turned to go, she stopped in mid-step, her jaw dropping. "Dean, what's happening to you?"

Chapter 41: Arrival

I looked down, trying to figure out what she was seeing. One hand was curled around an outline of a burnt orange shape. It was the Unforged Rod as it had been, prior to merging with the Demolition Sphere. Only this wasn't the real thing, just a projection. Jagged, leaping bits of electrified mana crawled up my hand, moving over my body to join a fissure of cold that poured from deep within. The sensation was ice water flowing through my veins, accompanied by a faint humming that vibrated in my teeth.

"Override Engine," I said, piecing things together. "It's interacting with the unattuned relic. Gost warned me. Until I put a leash on the thing, it may try and act on my behalf."

Sharon's pupils dilated as she cast a spell, then cursed. "Fucking old magic. I can't see what it's doing." Then she darted a look around, her usually composed features tightening with concern. "We can't afford for your stupidly overpowered relic to give us away."

I knew she was right, so I let her draw me into the forest surrounding the area. We moved into the underbrush, where we began navigating back to the road. The leaves rustled against my clothing, leaving behind a residue that smelled faintly of mint and copper. On the way, I made a promise to myself.

Whatever I have to do, whoever I have to become, to stop this, I will.

The illusory relic in my hand pulsed in time with my determination once, then vanished as Override Engine subsided, leaving behind a phantom cold that lingered as a memory.

Back on the road, I collected my discarded rock, and we took the path leading to Thanderkand. Aware of what we were leaving behind, every new crash of spell or frantic cry that carried over the wind became a spike in my chest. The distant sounds grew fainter but remained audible, a constant reminder of my choice.

I had to talk about something, to drown out the noise in my head before it overwhelmed me. Toggling off the telepathy, just so I could feel the words, I said, "I was notorious for punching my way through plot points in Brian's games. He made it a point to teach me there were other ways to solve problems."

Sharon, also switching back to regular speech, replied, "Like that sticky note about NPCs?"

"Yeah. I think..." I hesitated, my voice growing softer, "I think maybe he knew back then that I had this in me." I accentuated the words with a lifted hand, fingers curling.

"Nature versus nurture," she replied, catching on. Her usual clinical tone softened slightly, revealing a glimpse of the person behind the analyst. "People are born with a certain innate nature. But it's how their families and society treat them that shapes everything after that. It sounds like he was a very insightful, kind man."

"He was. Yeah." The simple acknowledgment felt inadequate for all Brian had meant to me, but I couldn't manage more without my voice betraying me.

"What does this have to do with what we just saw?"

I relaxed my grip, lowering my hand. "Dunno. I feel like there's a lesson somewhere in there. I just don't see it yet."

"I can tell you one you should take away," she said.

"Go on."

"Parties are critical for success." Reaching out, she squeezed my arm. The unexpected contact, especially from her, drew all my attention. Her fingers were surprisingly warm against my skin, contradicting the cool, professional demeanor she typically maintained.

She continued speaking, although the tone of the uptight Lieutenant was gone. In its place was gentleness and understanding. "If you're going to be the party's barbarian, and I'm going to be the scout, we'll still need a healer and mage and rogue. Maybe even a fighter, just from a tactical perspective. When you see situations similar to the Churn, it's imperative for you to remember that this isn't a solo-leveling situation. You'll need help, especially as things get worse."

I started to put a hand over hers, then stopped as I remembered my pet boulder. "Thanks. And I'm not going to be the barbarian. Those guys are one trick ponies."

Returning her attention to the road, I heard a smile in her voice. "What, you're not going to be a melee rage monster?"

"Nope."

"Who, then?"

"Maybe a swashbuckler? Or, uh, a warlockadin?"

She snorted. "What in the homebrew hell is a 'warlockadin'?"

"A warlock who multi classes into paladin. You know. I've got this Daemon relic thing, and a higher calling. It makes total sense."

"Hold on." She held a hand up. "Let's do some math here. Paladins get their power from their devotion to an ideal."

"Mhm."

"And warlocks get their power from otherworldly beings."

"Mhm."

"Dude, a warlockadin just sounds like a super loyal warlock with more steps."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm just saying there's room for nuance. And I'm making progress on my self control. Also, did you just call me 'dude'?"

"I did. That's because everyone can be a dude."

"Uh huh. Are you sure about that?"

"Dean, as your personally assigned advisor and chief analyst of this mission, I can absolutely guarantee that anyone can be a dude."

I pointed out, "You're the only analyst on this mission."

"That doesn't make my point any less valid, does it?" Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

"Hrm. Maybe."

We shared a laugh. It felt fragile, as if the sound didn't have a place here, not in the face of the horror we'd left behind. I embraced it enthusiastically.

Times like this were precisely the ones where humor did the most good. Adding a bright light to a well-lit room wouldn't make much of a difference. The same light in darkness? It could mean the world.

* * *

Over the next hour and a half, the forested terrain gradually gave way to rolling, grassy hills. Evidence of recent development lined the roadside. We passed several carts of unusual design. They were the same size and shape as semi-haulers on Earth, but with magical symbols along the wheels and body rather than a cab. Most stood empty, but a few were piled high with lumber and cut rock.

When I asked Sharon about them, she explained, “A lot of the magically advanced worlds along the frontier use mana as the primary fuel source. It regenerates a lot slower out here. Gifted locals are lucky to regenerate at a quarter of what the System gives us. Regular folk may have to practice cultivation rituals or meditate for hours.”

“If it recovers so slowly, how does mana fuel commerce?” I walked over to a nearby abandoned cart and shifted my boulder from one arm to the other. Reaching out, I experimentally pressed my scarred palm against the symbols.

Nothing happened.

Behind me, Sharon said, “A few points of mana can go a long way when you’re not spending it like a firehose. Maybe if we see your Gost friend, we can ask him to elaborate.”

As she spoke, I felt a gentle, questing tug. It was as if there was a suction cup in my palm, only it wasn’t just tugging at my skin but something deeper. I exhaled, deliberately trying to lower my guard and push some of my mana into the device.

Red-orange light, with a hint of green, poured from my palm. Energy slid from my core, pulled directly from Override Engine. When the mana interacted with the cart’s inscriptions things got...odd.

The carvings caught fire, smoking and charring. Then something inside the wood clawed outward, a curved length of obsidian piercing the wood and changing the magic. It only lasted a few seconds, and didn’t manage to transform the entire symbol, but when it was done the wheel shuddered.

A new sensation tugged at the back of my mind. It was almost as if I could feel the wood of the wagon itself. Chanting rose around us, creating a susurrus that gradually resolved into a whispered phrase against my ear.

“Per voluntatem tuam fiam.”

Both the glowing energy and voices vanished abruptly, cut off as the mana supplying them ran out.

I turned to Sharon, who’d gone all wide-eyed again. “Dean,” she whispered, “What in the Hellraiser meets Ghost Rider was that?”

Holding my palm up, I tried for a reassuring smile. “I’m sure that was just Zetty trying to help. Everyone knows Latin is the language of daemons, right?”

“Zetty?” She repeated, then licked her lips as she remembered the name of the Daemon. “Zetoliath. You heard a voice and think it’s trying to help?”

“Eh. Let’s not focus on the voice thing. But it’s definitely trying to help.” That was a bit of a necessary lie. While I was confident in Gost’s assertion that the Unforged Rod and its inhabitant (Did the dragon taint count as a second? Should I be pluralizing it as inhabitants?) were on my side, I couldn’t verify whether the display had been an attempt to help or not.

I was not about to explain all of that to her, however.

There are times when white lies really are the best solution to a complex problem. I checked my HUD. “Neat. That cost four mana. I wonder what would happen if I’d given it more?”

Sharon eyed me. “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you? It’s three am and you’re seriously considering experimenting with magic neither of us can even begin to comprehend?”

I replied with zealous enthusiasm. “Actually, I was thinking maybe I could do this to all the carts. If your whole Ghost Rider guess is right, we could ride the entire train back to the Churn and maybe even turn the tide of the battle. What do you say?”

“You are screwing with me.”

“A little,” I agreed. “Call it payback for threatening to burn my skin off a few more times.”

“Acclimate you. And we still need to do that. We can’t afford for you to fall into a screaming fit every time serious System magic touches your skin.”

I reached for the wagon wheel, which was still smoking. “Tell you what, you do your experimenting on me and I’ll do my experimenting with Zetty.”

She stepped over and punched me in the side. It wasn’t serious. Either that, or she just wasn’t very strong. “We’re on the clock to save the world. How about we keep going and leave this for another day?”

“You’re no fun.”

“Dude, your scary magic just tore a hole from the inside of that magic symbol. Until we get a handle on that thing, I’m one-hundred-percent going to be the fun police in our party.”

“And my senior officer?”

“Basically the same title, when you think about it.”

“Fine.” I slumped, rolling my shoulders forward and pouting.

We resumed our journey, with my thoughts drifting to what we’d seen at the Churn. Seeing so much violence and death in one place gave me a sense of direction. Whoever I became, it would be whatever it took to stop horrors like that.

The outskirts of Thanderkand were lined with signposts. They issued warnings and commands to the citizens. I read them as we drew near the tall wooden palisades of the fortified settlement.

“Guard your dreams; accept no offers!” followed by, “Mana is precious; donate yours to the cause!” followed by, “Report your neighbor if they begin acting strangely!” It went on from there, growing increasingly paranoid as we approached the walls.

Sharon held a hand up, stopping our progress before we closed the distance. “I’m going to cast disguise spells on us.”

“You think that’s more useful than letting them know who we are?”

“I think these people are paranoid and under siege. The longer we can remain discreet, the better. Now, hold on. I’ll cast an augury spell to figure out which disguises will be the most useful. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Damn, you’re useful to have around,” I said as she made a few quick gestures to cast her spell. Her magic spun out, invisible to the eyes but palpable to my senses.

She rolled her eyes at me. “My job is to keep people like you alive. Keep that in mind for whatever comes next.”

“I will,” I promised.

Her expression darkened, but she moved on anyway. “To set your expectations, my abilities are great for predictions and surveillance, but I’m basically useless in a fight.”

“The downsides of being a non-combatant?”

“Right. Once I hit level fifty, I’ll be able to avoid any Events I don’t want. That’s the goal. Power level as fast as possible, then use everything I learn to help the cause. Now be quiet for a second while I review this. It seems this planet has four dominant races and a ton of cultures. There’s a lot to skim.”

As she worked, I moved away, both to give her space and take in the surroundings. Thanderkand’s perimeter was much larger than I would have expected based on the village I’d encountered earlier.

It had twenty-foot-tall wooden walls stretching giant arms in either direction. The quality of the construction, although difficult to see with any detail this far, seemed to be at least on par with what was available back home. Wooden planks were uniform and narrow, with banded bits of inscribed metal linking them together. Guard towers dotted every fifty or sixty feet, their open windows showing no signs of inhabitants.

A forest stretched far to the north. Beneath the bright light of the night sky, I thought they looked different from the ones I’d encountered near Gost’s place. These looked darker, bigger, and twisted. If my gaming experience was of any use in this situation, that was likely where the treasury we sought would be hiding.

To the south were miles of rolling hills interrupted by farmland. Crops resembling wheat swayed in the chill breeze, and I saw animals through slats in fences.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” Sharon said. “We’re going to go in as something called Jagazi traders. They are basically human, and it makes sense for them to be here, even this late at night. Their clans specialize in moving mana around with specialized storage gems. We won’t have those, but the mana the System provides should let us hedge.”

I turned from my inspection to her. “Okay. Anything else I should know? How comprehensive are these disguise spells of yours?”

“Very.” A hint of playful malice reflected in her tight smile. “It’ll disguise your language, your clothes, even your aura. I’ll overcharge the spell to extend the duration, too.”

My stomach dropped. Bending down, I put the exercise rock on the ground and took a few steps away. “I’ll switch to telepathy.”

“Good idea.”

The invisibility spell had cost her three hundred mana. This one cost nearly twice that. This time, I didn’t fall to the ground screaming. Instead, I nearly bit my tongue in half. Ten minutes later, when the ‘flaying your skin off, then covering the nerves with wasps’ feeling had subsided, I sat up.

“Maybe we’re going to need to do that acclimation thing,” I conceded.

She cast the spell on herself. A brilliant glow surrounded her briefly, then slid away, revealing a slightly taller, broader version of her normal physique. Her hair was red now, and her eyes subtly larger. The rest of the changes were to her wardrobe, which materialized as overlapping pelts, woven with a collection of pouches and bags. Her arms and calves were left bare, black tattoos covering her forearms and hands.

Glancing down, I saw that I looked much the same. I reflexively went into my HUD and changed my relics’ appearance to match. Even if her magic was covering that base, it felt odd wearing clothes that didn’t match my new appearance.

When that was done, I checked out the spell update on the main tab.

Spell Enhancement: Comprehensive Disguise (Extended)

Status: Active

Details: Provides a comprehensive disguise that matches another target culture or species. There are a number of limitations to this spell; humanoids must match humanoids, and dramatic size changes are prohibited. As long as these limitations are met, this spell functionally does everything except give the target insight into the mimicked target’s background.

The full list of limitations will become available if you learn the spell.

Remaining Duration: 15 Days 24 hours 40 minutes.

Character Update

Unidentified Ability: You have expressed an ability the System cannot identify. Parasite code has concealed it. For now, it has been labeled “Daemonic Mana Influence” and will be classified as a specialty trait. Further use will allow your HUD to identify its capabilities.

Chapter 42: Fuzzy Wudgie Was A…

We spotted our first guard as we approached within fifty feet of the heavy, iron-reinforced gates. A pair of covered towers framed the entrance, and a helmeted head appeared through a window. A male voice called down at us.

"Late hour for merchants, Jagazi." His accent carried a rolling burr that my translation spell made sound vaguely Scottish.

"We received word of the invasion and came as quickly as possible," Sharon replied. "We're here with supplies."

The domed head vanished, and footsteps echoed from within the wall. Moments later, a smaller gate built into the main doors swung open to allow the guard out. This provided my first proper glimpse of the man, and I nearly failed to maintain my composure.

My HUD labeled him a Wudgie. Standing barely three and a half feet tall, he possessed a wide, wrinkly face dominated by enormous, luminous eyes. His mouth and nose were disproportionately broad, and a startling burst of bright red hair covered his head, shot from his ears, and even stretched far enough from his nostrils that it could have been braided.

He held one of the metal brands we'd seen at the campground, waving it deliberately around us both. The rod emitted a subtle glow that pulsed with each movement. For a tense moment, I worried that Sharon's disguise spell might falter against the detection magic. My concerns proved unfounded—the device didn't so much as flicker, even when the guard touched my arm.

"What's tha' for?" the guard inquired, prodding my rock with the tip of his rod.

"It's my pet rock," I replied flatly.

"Och, aye. Sure." He accepted this without further question.

"Can we enter?" I asked. "I would love a proper bed."

"Aye, well. About that." The guard scratched at his hairy chin. "There's a mana tax on everythin' now." Reaching into a pocket, he produced a small, eight-sided gem. "If ye fill this up, I can let ye in."

I began reaching for the gem, but Sharon intercepted it first. Wrapping her hand around the device, she concentrated for a moment. The gem pulsed with brilliant light five times before she returned it.

She offered the guard a weary smile. "There. Will that suffice?"

"Very well indeed, milady." With that, he stepped aside, gesturing with his iron rod. "Ye'll want tae take the right path, all the way to the Nightwatch Tavern. They keep late hours. Also, be mindin' yerselves about any dawdlin'. Mr. Fingers has his wee ones helpin' to patrol the streets after dark."

Acknowledging his warning with a nod, we proceeded through the smaller gate. It measured nearly four feet wide and bristled with metal spikes along the frame. Beyond, we gained our first proper view of a moonlit Thanderkand.

Once again, this world defied my expectations. Rather than muddy streets lined with thatch-roofed cottages, Thanderkand resembled an industrial age Earth city. A network of cobblestone roads branched away from a spacious main area just inside the gate. One path led toward towering buildings with tall smokestacks. Another revealed three and four-story multiplex structures. The route the guard had recommended displayed hallmarks of a commercial district, with stalls framing the thoroughfare before giving way to larger buildings I presumed were the city's inns and taverns.

The predominant construction material consisted of milled wood stamped with magical inscriptions, though the buildings featured clay or stone tile roofing. Elaborate metalwork adorned many surfaces, including intricate iron locks and handles.

Magic permeated the environment in both subtle and blatant ways. There was a courtyard past the gates, with a towering blue gem dominating the area like a monument. Cut in a rhomboid shape, it rested atop a metal donut, surrounded by larger variations of the mana gem the guard had used to charge our entry fee.

Beside the gem, which radiated palpable cold, faint auras surrounded various objects throughout the plaza. Many were on door handles. Others shimmered from crystals and decorative elements hanging in windows, similar to those I'd observed in the village upon first arriving in this world.

"It resembles images of England during the early twentieth century," Sharon commented as we started toward the tavern. "Though considerably cleaner."

"I was thinking the same."

We approached the wheeled stalls and paused when a whimpering sound emerged from the deep shadows between two booths. A subtle, metallic scent drifted on the night air—something acrid yet sweet that reminded me of copper pennies left in the sun.

Sharon and I turned simultaneously toward the noise. The shadows deepened, swirling unnaturally. Something moved within them, a shape darker than the darkness itself.

"Do you see that?" I asked, fingers curling as I stepped to move my body between hers and the potential threat.

Before Sharon could respond, a rag-covered figure lunged from its hiding place. It came off its feet, leaping high enough that it should have connected with her throat.

Instead, it passed through her completely, as though she was made of smoke. The creature's momentum carried it directly into me. Caught off-guard by this unexpected phase-through, I instinctively slapped a hand down to deflect the attacker.

A pair of needle-sharp teeth sank into the interior wrist of my scarred hand. For a split second, our eyes met—frost-blue irises flaring suddenly to orange-red, pupils dilating with what I could only describe as surprise. A jolt of cold energy surged from the bite, racing up my arm toward my heart.

With a violent twist, I whipped my arm back and forth, launching the creature away from me.

It tumbled through the air, rotating mid-flight like a cat. Landing lightly ten feet away, the attacker revealed itself—a wudgie, smaller than the guard, with a face that appeared almost childlike despite its feral expression. It licked blood-stained lips with a forked tongue, eyes locked on me with predatory focus.

Then, without warning, it turned and fled, moving with preternatural speed that belied its stature. Within seconds, it had vanished into the labyrinth of streets.

“What the crap?” I said, looking at my hand. “That Gwildor-looking motherfucker cut me.”

Sharon snorted, though she walked over to me to inspect the wound. “I thought they looked more like Hoggle, to be honest. This doesn’t look bad. What does your HUD say?”

“Down a hit point.”

She shook her head, still looking at the wound. “There’s residue here I can’t translate. Go to your combat log tab. It’ll show a detailed analysis of what happened.”

After a bit of searching, I found it and used her updated HUD sharing feature to pass her the details.

Damage Taken: You have taken 1 hit point.

Mana Drained: A creature has attempted a mana draining attack on you. Your various resistance abilities have reduced the drain from 5 to 1.

Cursed Infection Resisted: You have resisted a curse similar to Fiend by Night. This was a very low probability infection.

Parasite Insight: Fiend by Night is a curse known to the System. This creature was not attempting to apply the exact same one, but it is very close. Additional exposure is required to understand the full nuances.

“Huh,” Sharon said, skimming the text. “We’re going to need you to get bitten more so we can identify that curse. Oh! Did the bite make you burn or tingle?”

I looked at my arm and thought about it for a second. “It was a little chilly, but there was no burning or tingling.”

“Hrm. Okay. That’s progress at least. I think the immersion therapy is working.”

"By 'immersion therapy,' do you mean taking personal delight in making me scream my lungs out from your spells?" I glared at her, which proved as ineffective as always.

"Precisely that. Shall we continue?"

We resumed our journey down the street. About halfway to an illuminated building with a sign labeled 'Nightwatch', I noticed a disturbance down an alley opposite the tavern.

A group of wudgies—at least thirty—huddled together in the shadows. All wore ragged clothing similar to my attacker's, and all possessed those eerie blue eyes except for one in the center with glowing orange irises. When they noticed my attention, the entire group began moving in our direction with deliberate purpose. Their whispers reached me, too faint to decipher but carrying an unmistakable interest.

Sharon tugged at my sleeve. "Don't engage. We're almost there."

"Engage what? Those little ankle-biters?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't start trouble."

I suppressed a laugh. "It would be like taking a baseball bat to rabid raccoons. There's no fun in that."

The tension in her posture eased. "You're mixing your metaphors again. We can't go from Labyrinth to He-Man to Earth wildlife within ten minutes."

We arrived at the tavern, climbing a short flight of worn wooden steps. A female wudgie in a flowered dress opened the door before we could knock. Her accent was even thicker than the guard's as she ushered us inside.

"Come noo, come noo. Best get ye in before they summon their courage." Her voice had a musical quality despite its gruffness.

Once we were safely inside, she closed and locked the door. I sensed a brief pulse of frost from the frame before the woman shuffled around us toward a counter.

"And what'll I be doin' for a pair o' late-night traders?" Her smile revealed surprisingly neat teeth nestled within the riotous facial hair.

Sharon stepped forward. "One room with two beds, meals, and a shower or bath, whichever is available. Hot water, too, please. We’ll be here for at least a week."

"Och! Two beds and one room for a week, with meals?" The wudgie's bushy eyebrows rose. "Aye, certainly. We can manage that. I'm Miss Carpenter, but ye can call me Cherry. I work the night desk, so I'll be the one ye call for anythin' ye might be needin'." Her expression warmed as she pulled out a slate tablet and piece of chalk, writing in tight, swift strokes.

While she worked, I examined our surroundings.

From outside, the tavern had appeared to be a standard three-story building. Inside, it blended homely comfort with unmistakable defensive architecture. We'd entered a compact six-by-six entry area containing only a desk. The walls featured paintings so lifelike they resembled photographs. Each depicted wudgies in various aspects of daily life—working, playing, cooking. It was perhaps the most disarming decor I'd encountered in this world.

Placed strategically between these domestic scenes were narrow metal slots. If Earth history provided any reliable guide, these were murder holes—designed to allow defenders to shoot or stab anyone who breached the entrance.

"That'll be twenty-two clips or ye can pay with mana," Cherry announced, completing her calculations.

"Mana, please," Sharon replied.

The proprietor retrieved two blue gems identical to the one we'd encountered at the gate. Sharon placed her hand on each, making a convincing show of fatigue after filling them.

Cherry pocketed the gems with a satisfied nod. "That'll do nicely. Come with me, dearies. I'll take ye tae the suite. It has a proper tub with a privacy curtain—very nice for traveling companions such as yerselves."

She pushed aside a painting depicting two wudgies playing with sheep-like animals, revealing a keyhole behind it. The lock emitted a deep, resonant sound when she slid the key into place, and a section of wall slid open, exposing a double-sided stairwell. One path led downward while the other ascended. Metal walls enclosed the space, segregating it from the rest of the building to prevent guests from accessing other areas.

Our room was located up two flights of stairs and down a lengthy corridor. Four other rooms lined the hallway, each secured with a heavy iron door.

"End on the right, dearies," Cherry informed us softly. "And please be considerate. We dinnae have many other guests just now, but we wouldnae want to disturb them."

"Aren't your walls thick enough to muffle sound?" I inquired.

Her response remained cordial, though her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "They are, but still. It wouldnae do to cause a fuss, would it?"

"Point taken, Miss Cherry."

She rewarded my acquiescence with a smile as she inserted a heavy key into the door lock. It clicked, and the door swung open silently.

Leaving the key in the lock, Cherry smoothed her dress. "Meals come with yer fee. Ye've got a call bell in your room, with a speaking tube. Place your thumb on the activation rune to speak with me or anyone working the service shift. The tub is modern—hot water on the left, cold on the right. If ye want it to auto-adapt, press and hold both for three seconds. There's a clothes service available if ye need laundering or repairs. Just use the speaking tube and someone will collect your things. Anything else I can help ye with before I go?"

"No, thank you," Sharon replied, and I echoed her sentiment.

The room proved spacious and well-appointed, featuring a chest of drawers, two comfortable-looking beds, a closet for a toilet, and the promised tub with privacy screen. Rather than windows, the space was illuminated by light stands that cast a yellow-amber glow with a subtle coolness against my skin.

Decorative elements added a homey atmosphere. Beyond the paintings, every surface displayed artistic touches—intricate lace, hand-carved figurines of animals in wood or stone.

"It's like visiting grandmother's cabin for summer vacation," Sharon remarked, surveying the room. With a longing sigh, she added, "Would you mind if I bathed first? My refresher spell works wonders, but I lack your Endurance for extended activity."

"Go right ahead."

She disappeared behind the privacy curtain, sliding it closed behind her. The sounds of disrobing were oddly loud in the otherwise quiet room. It had been a while since I'd had a girlfriend. Living with my parents made certain experiences relatively rare. Being in the same room as an attractive, undressing woman didn't accelerate my pulse the way combat did.

Nevertheless, I couldn't entirely ignore the sense of intimacy and trust implicit in this private act. Determined to focus on productivity, I put my rock down on the floor, then settled onto one of the beds and closed my eyes.

In an ideal scenario, I'd use meditation to attune my relic without unnecessary theatrics. As intriguing as entering the relic sounded, I wouldn't object to something straightforward and simple.

Not everything required spectacle.

Taking several deep breaths, I slipped into a meditative state. Within my mind's eye, the Unforged Rod materialized, floating before me. Every detail, including the infinitesimal symbols etched along the hilt, gradually sharpened into focus. My hand twitched involuntarily as I resisted the powerful urge to summon the device.

Projecting my thoughts, I addressed the entity residing within the relic.

"Can we accomplish this the simple way? I'll explain our mission, and you'll...align with me, or whatever. That's how this works, isn't it?"

No response came, though I perceived something vast, unknowable, and decidedly inhuman turning its attention toward me. I felt exposed and vulnerable, as if whatever this entity was could perceive layers of my being that I myself couldn't access.

The sensation resembled those dreams where you suddenly realize you're naked in public—except everyone in this classroom was an eldritch, timeless being.

"Gost said you're like a pet," I continued, scrambling awkwardly for appropriate words. This was significantly more challenging than punching someone in the face. "I just need to communicate my purpose, and then we'll understand each other. That's the process, right?"

As I described the daemon spirit-thing as a pet, a peculiar mental image formed. It resembled a hellhound from fantasy lore, but with elements of a dinosaur. The image shifted, transforming into something akin to a Carnotaurus from Jurassic Park. The tyrannosaur-like creature held the Unforged Rod in its mouth, jaws large enough to swallow a whale yet delicately gripping the object as its diminutive arms waved for my attention.

No, that wouldn't work. It was excessively silly. Besides, something of that size would be impractical as an adventuring companion.

Without conscious effort on my part, the image transformed, shrinking to the size of a large housecat. Its tail elongated, as did its forelimbs. It retained the fangs and protrusions I'd associated with a demonic beast, yet now appeared almost...endearing.

True, it still emanated that whole "born from cosmic forces beyond the stars, essence of nightmares" quality. But it was packaged in a form I could potentially hold. In that compact configuration, the creature could access places even I couldn't reach.

I mentally revised my assessment to adorable and formidable.

Only then did I realize this new shape hadn't originated from my imagination at all.

"Dean. Your turn."

Sharon's hand on my shoulder pulled me from the vision. I opened my eyes to find my companion, damp from bathing, standing before me. The illusion spell hid what she was wearing, although the brush of cloth against my skin suggested she was wearing a loose fitting robe or something similar.

"I'll take that one," she indicated the other bed. "See you in the morning, bright and early, alright? We need to gain an advantage over those other teams if we want any chance of success."

"Mhm." I agreed.

Still halfway held by the vision, I rose and found the tub. The magical controls were easy enough to figure out. I started the water going, then began to take my clothes off.

“Not shy, are you?”

I looked up, startled to see Sharon standing there. One hand on the privacy curtain that I’d forgotten to use, she gave me a knowing, exhausted smile. “Just teasing.”

Mumbling, “Thanks,” I finished taking my clothes off, then sank into the water. As advertised, pushing both buttons had gotten me the perfect (almost nuclear) temperature. Sighing in relief, I settled back, eyes closing as I processed what had just happened.

Had the spirit genuinely communicated with me? If so, what had it been trying to say?

Then there was the most important question, the one I didn’t dare to contemplate. It was far too absurd; merely contemplating shook the foundations of everything I’d come to expect about my new reality.

Could my pet daemon have a sense of humor?

Interlude: Deployed

Yellow-crest, Black-tail, and Brown-eyes materialized half a mile from Thanderkand's walls. Dawn approached as morning mist rolled across the landscape, veiling the newcomers from casual observation.

They arrived with their disguises flawlessly intact. Unlike crude illusion magic, theirs were premium guild enchantments. Each had physically transformed, their biology reconfigured to match their target species. Two appeared as fit humanoids, while the third manifested as a diminutive wudgie. Despite the metamorphosis, they retained subtle distinctions from their original forms—most notably an extra pair of arms. This adaptation had elongated their torsos, though only marginally.

Unfurling their fingers, each member revealed dual inventory pouches and sprang into action without hesitation.

"Deploy your enchantments," instructed Yellow-crest, who had adopted the form of a moderately attractive blonde woman.

Black-tail, disguised as a muscular bald man with dark tiger stripes across his cheeks, responded with a hiss of acknowledgment. Arcane energy spiraled from all four of his limbs, weaving protective spells of stealth, concealment, and misdirection around the group.

The final member, Brown-eyes, had chosen to appear as a wudgie—utterly unremarkable in every aspect. To locals, he would register as forgettable as common soil. Black-tail's enchantments enhanced this quality, granting the assassin a tremendous advantage against unsuspecting targets.

With protective layers established, all three accessed their inventory pouches, equipping carefully selected magical items—each artifact representing the highest tier permitted for their assignment.

Once prepared, Yellow-crest addressed Brown-eyes. "Locate the okaku. After confirmation, we'll initiate phase one. Ensure at least one survives to return to their guild hall."

"Understood, quest leader," the assassin replied, already speaking the local dialect with native fluency.

Turning to Black-tail, she continued, "We maintain our primary objective. Any concerns?"

Neither of her companions had any.

Concealing their additional limbs within cleverly designed folds of their garments, the infiltrators separated. Black-tail and Yellow-crest proceeded toward the main entrance while Brown-eyes advanced directly toward the nearest section of wall.

By sunrise, all three adventurers were within the city.

Chapter 43: Panic

"Hey, Dean. It's sunrise."

I jerked awake, lukewarm water splashing. Realizing that I'd passed out in the tub, I rubbed at my face with one hand and swallowed. My throat was raw.

Croaking, "Is there water?" I climbed free of the tub and started drying off.

"I'll get us some sent up," Sharon called back. I heard her footsteps on the creaky wooden floor, then a tinny echo as she activated the speaking tube. "Hello. Can I get two meals and plenty of drinking water? Thanks."

A high-pitched male voice called back a beat later, "Right away ma'am. Kitchen is just powering up. Give us twenty minutes."

"Sounds good."

By the end of the conversation, I was dry and dressed in spare clothes Gost had provided. My boots and belt reappeared out of my inventory. A glance in a speckled mirror told me that Sharon's enchantment was intact. One downside, I realized, was that I couldn't see my real self. The reflection looked basically normal, no signs of fatigue or anything else. It also didn't look quite like me. Sharon's version made her look a bit beefier. Mine did the opposite.

I drew the privacy curtain back, joining my companion in the bedroom. She looked up from where she sat on the edge of her bed, eyes thoughtful.

"You were talking in your sleep."

"Oh?" I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I had dreams but can't remember them."

"You kept saying 'I'm not who you think I am' over and over again. It sounded...painful, to be honest."

I frowned, trying to remember anything that might be similar. A brief flash of emotion, maybe guilt, stirred then vanished as soon as I gave it any attention.

Seeing my expression, she leaned forward slightly. "I can help with it, if you'd want me to."

"What do you mean?"

She wiggled her fingers, a faint ripple of energy visible around them. "I can cast a spell to help you remember the next dreams you have. It's low mana, so it probably won't burn your brain too much."

"Future? Why not past?"

"The version that helps with recall costs more mana. That means more magic in your head, and I’m sure you remember what you reported about that headdress."

Shaking my head in awe at the sheer volume of details the analyst had memorized, I started to say no. Then I hesitated, realizing there might be some insight or message in what I'd forgotten. I had been trying to communicate with my relic, after all.

"You know, this is where heroes in books would tell you no."

She tilted her head. "Oh?"

"Yeah. They'd tell you no and be stubborn about it. But we both know what would happen then."

"They'd miss some important clue?"

I gave her a finger gun. "Bingo. Might as well avoid using stupidity as a plot device, right?"

She quirked a smile, thin lips curving far enough to make the corner of her eyes crinkle. "You're remarkably self-aware for someone with your personality profile."

"Yeah. It's my one redeeming character trait. Go ahead."

She made a quick gesture, fingers tracing a pattern in the air.

A pick of raw heat jammed into my left temple. I winced, touching the spot, half expecting blood. There was none, and the pain abated quickly. "Yeah, good call," I replied once the sting eased. "Don't think I'd have responded well to the other one."

One thing I'd learned decisively: spells that targeted my head were my kryptonite. It would be something I'd need to figure out a way to deal with eventually.

We spoke for a few minutes, going over plans to survey the city and probe the inhabitants. Sharon shifted on the bed, crossing her legs as she gestured. "The locals will know what actions lost the world Protected status, and if anyone here knows where the treasury is, they'll be in hiding."

"Or too scared to talk to any outsiders," I added.

"Just so. Good thing I've got spells to help sift haystacks."

Not for the first time, I was glad to have the Lieutenant on my side.

A pair of young wudgies came up right on time, delivering two trays of food and drink. After we'd thanked them, Sharon cast a diagnostic spell to verify the food was safe to consume. Once she gave the all-clear, we dove in. It was plain fare, just bread with slices of a cheesy substance and mixed berries but was tasty all the same.

After eating, we collected our room key and made our way down the stairs. The guest stairwell ended at a side exit that output directly to an alley beside the hotel. It lacked the homey touch I'd have wanted, but given circumstances it made sense.

Despite the threat of inclement invasion, the city was already bustling. Humans, wudgies, and robed figures moved rapidly along the mercantile street, making deals with bleary-eyed vendors. It looked to me like the locals were selling mostly weapons, but the distinct aroma of unfamiliar spices and meats gave evidence that there was plenty of food available as well.

As we made our way through the throng a group of ten soldiers in magical armor came marching through. One of their number carried one of the green-topped brands. He moved it back and forth, actively checking for anyone nearby who might be Activated. The soldiers practically raced to the gates, where a larger group awaited them.

Telepathy Enabled

I toggled the option on and was careful to not move my lips as I spoke to Sharon. "Not that I mind, but those wand things don't seem very useful."

Replying in-kind, she said, "They will be useful against anyone without the right concealment. New adventurers, or ones the Churn brings over are unlikely to have even the most basic anti-detection spells."

"Ah. Makes sense."

After several minutes of wandering the trade street, it became clear that any opportunity for small talk with the locals wasn't going to happen. Everyone was either preparing for an invasion or actively working to get to the front lines.

I overheard more than one conversation between a worried person and a soldier that included phrases like, "Every day we delay is another day for the rest to prepare."

None of them sounded hopeful.

We made our way deeper into the sprawling city, until the press of people gradually thinned. There, bright spots of conversation between locals stood out. Moving near a fruit vendor with several young human boys standing next to the cart, I heard one of them asking the adult, "What about the two adventurers? Couldn't they stop all this?"

The vendor, a world-weary woman with iron grey hair, did her best to smile. "Remember what you was taught in school, Nigel. Those people are monsters. They ain't going to try to save us. It's just that System trying to give us false hope."

Nigel swallowed, eyes wide. "What about Mr. Fingers? He's here in person, right? If there's anyone who could fight bad guys, it's gotta be him."

"Silly boy. Mr. Fingers is fighting cancer with cancer. He ain’t in this to risk his life." She hesitated, eyes flicking up to regard Sharon and I as we glided by. Her expression soured, although she finished the thought anyway. "Mr. Fingers is defendin' his territory, that's all. You'd best not forget that. There's a reason there's a curfew."

Addressing us, the woman spoke louder. "You two. Traders. Wanting anything? We got fresh pears and apples. Just brought in yesterday."

I was certain the fruits she was selling were neither pears nor apples, but trusted the translation effect in my HUD to have found approximate versions.

"Sure," I said, moving closer. "Mind if I pay with mana?"

"That would be preferred," the woman said, pulling out a mana gem barely larger than her thumbnail. "Half for two. Fill 'er up and I'll give you six. Plenty for you and your lady friend."

Sharon intercepted me before I could grab the gem. With an apologetic smile in her voice, she said, "Allow me. Your magic is so much weaker than mine, we should preserve what you've cultivated."

I frowned. "Okay."

The small, apple-sized fruits ended up tasting like pears dipped in apple juice. Delighted at the flavor, I devoured one and pocketed two others. Walking beside me, Sharon did the same.

Her telepathic warning came as she ate. "Don't use your mana anywhere. Not until you've got a leash on that relic of yours. Maybe not even then."

"Eh? Why?"

"I'm worried about something Gost told you."

I made a gesture for her to elaborate.

Drawing me to one side of the thoroughfare, out of the thinning line of traffic, she held up a hand. Crossing three fingers, she continued the silent communication. "If he's right and the Parasite code, the System, and the relic, are all working together, there's a chance that your magical fingerprint is changing. Or has changed. I'm worried your mana isn't natural anymore."

"You're talking about the cart."

She gave me a tight nod. "I am. Until we experiment, I don't want you using mana for anything other than your abilities and magical items."

I didn't like that. Then again, the last thing I wanted was to infect a mana gem with otherworldly squid demons or whatever. "Okay."

"Thankfully, so far everything here has cost less than ten mana." Her mental voice was tinted with worry and amusement.

We discovered Thanderkand was vaguely egg-shaped, with a wide "rear" on the opposite side of where we'd entered. Our route deposited us at that area shortly before noon, where we discovered a mass of people. Magical carts, like those we'd passed the night before, were lined up. Goods were being delivered in crates or boxes, and others were being loaded up.

"Look. Families are evacuating." Sharon pointed to a line of men, women, and children laden with goods. Most looked exhausted. The children were clearly scared, clutching their parents' hands or dolls. A few had animals, roughly similar to the picture of the sheep creature we'd seen in the hotel.

Someone kicked me in the chest. I was suddenly out of breath, hand flinching to cover the spot as I looked around.

But there was no attacker, no sign of anyone having done anything.

"Dean?" Sharon asked, hand on my shoulder. Worried, she steered me to an alley clogged with smelly trash. "What happened?"

I checked my hit points. They were full. Tabbing over, I saw the combat activity log was blank.

"I...I don't know," I stammered, eyes watering. What was happening to me? I looked up, searching the crowd, thinking that maybe there had been some sort of sight-based spell on one of them.

As soon as I saw the faces of the children, the feeling came again. It was harder this time, as if someone was digging my heart out. I panted, breaths coming quick.

"What the fuck is going on?" I growled, trying to explain the sensation to my companion in short bursts.

Sharon drew closer, casting a subtle spell. "Dean, you're having a panic attack."

"Huh?" I didn't understand. There had been precisely one time in my entire life when I'd felt anything remotely like this, and it certainly didn't apply here. None of this made sense. I shouldn't be feeling anything other than focus on the mission.

Just because I thought I shouldn't feel something didn't make it go away.

"Do me a favor?" Sharon tipped her chin toward the crowd. "Look at those wudgies over there."

I did as she asked, looking at a cluster of ten or so of the short-statured people moving through the crowd. Dressed in mining equipment, they were all covered in dirt and filth. Their eyes were heavy-lidded and red, yet they walked with pride.

"Now look at the workers unloading that cart."

A group of humans were unloading crates. None of them looked particularly special.

"And now at the families. But only at the adults, if you can manage. Here. I'll use the HUD to tell you where to look."

A diagram appeared in the corner of my vision, and I followed the directions, finding a cluster of mixed human and wudgie adults in the line of evacuees.

"Okay." Sharon exhaled, as if worried about what was about to happen. "Now, here."

The diagram changed. I followed it, sliding away from the adults to a child. It was a human boy, short brown hair curling to frame puffy, tear-streaked cheeks. One of his hands was curled tightly around a blonde-haired little girl, her blue dress soot-stained and tattered. The other led to a woman I assumed was his mother.

CRACK!

I looked down, shocked to see my scarred hand wrapped around a length of wood. What had once been a cracked wooden beam was now shattered, the new shape a near-mirror of the Unforged Rod.

A spasm rippled through my core, pouring outward until a red corona flickered over my skin.

"Well, that answers one question," Sharon said. "Come on. We need to get you away from the kids." Tugging at my sleeve, she led me down the dirty, abandoned alley.

Moving between stone and wood buildings, we gradually navigated a warren of narrow passages to an outlet near the heart of the city. After several minutes, the tension in my chest gradually eased. I dropped the random stick, forcing myself to breathe normally.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"You've got a soft spot for kids. It's normal for some people. This is fine. We'll just go somewhere else. It's not like we'd have gotten answers there anyway."

She was wrong, totally wrong. I'd never given a damn about children. They'd always been pure nuisances; rugrats to get in my way, or distractions from whatever I was doing.

A whistle cut through our conversation as a booming voice came from a nearby road.

"People of Thanderkand! My brothers and I are aware that one of your lot discovered the treasury of Stephanos Du Reilka. Given conditions, we believe the goods inside that vault may be for all of our benefit. We are offering five greater mana gems to anyone who provides us with meaningful information that leads to the discovery of the true location."

"Ah, crap," Sharon and I said at nearly the same time.

We strode to an adjacent street, where we discovered the source of the voice. It was a big man wearing an opulent, silk robe and a gem-studded mask that covered his entire face. Standing atop several stacked crates, the guy was flanked by two other, equally large and similarly dressed figures.

To my surprise, none of the city guards had come to investigate the guy's cries. In fact, he'd already drawn an audience, including several armed soldiers whose faces reflected desperation.

A non-descript wudgie, brown haired and utterly forgettable, spoke from the crowd. "Five greater mana gems? There's no way you have so much."

With a smile in his voice, the masked announcer slid a gloved hand into a sleeve, then withdrew a mana gem easily the size of an eight-ball. It was cut with far more facets than the previous versions I'd seen, and was so full of mana that it outshone the sun.

"Five of these for anyone with useful information," the man said again, lifting the artifact aloft. Then, with a smooth motion, he tucked it away. "But only if it's actually useful."

A whispered rasp came from an alley next to where Sharon and I had just exited. "He'll want to know about this. Go on. I'll keep an eye on them."

Footsteps raced away. When I looked over, trying to get a glimpse of who had spoken, I saw a pair of blue eyes nestled within swirling shadows.

Chapter 44: Parasite

"This is going to go badly," Sharon said telepathically. "Those are clearly three of the adventurers we've been sent to stop. If they are being that brazen, it means one of two things."

"That they are idiots or very strong?" I shifted my weight, feeling the uneven cobblestones beneath my boots.

"Or both."

I leaned against a stone wall, pitted with age, aiming for quiet discretion as we watched the swirl of people growing. The masked man continued his calls, elaborating on how useful the gems would be for the upcoming war.

"Someone is going to try to take those, regardless of whether they realize where they are from," I observed. "If that happens, do you think the locals have a realistic chance?"

She cast a quick spell before answering me, her fingers tracing small patterns that left momentary sparkles in the air. "Odds are iffy. At level eighteen, if those guys have a single max stat, we're looking at two-fifty to three-hundred. If that's all in strength, with solid traits to back it up, they could probably knock over a building. They haven't done anything to indicate a class yet, so there's no telling on that. I'm seeing strong magical signatures on their clothes and beneath them though."

"Plus, I'm guessing the strongest defenders are at the quarry."

"Likely, yeah."

A rustle of movement came from one edge of the crowd as a man and woman moved toward the speaker. Dressed in the standard local garb, the pair had an air of desperation about them. The blonde-haired woman was walking with a limp, and the scarred man next to her was pale enough to seem sickly.

She called, "I have information."

One of the two masked men at the lower level crossed to her in a flash, not bothering to disguise System-augmented speed.

She leaned in, speaking into the masked earhole and pointing to the south. Reaching into a pocket, she extracted a glowing magical object. I couldn't make out the details, but seeing it visibly made the man's shoulders tighten. He spoke in a gruff voice, "Wait here."

The masked men came together near the crates, with the one she'd spoken to repeating her gestures and holding out whatever she'd given him.

After several seconds of back and forth, the one who'd been acting as the announcer made a sharp, authoritative gesture. The one who'd questioned the woman peeled off, shoving through the crowd with enough force to send people flying as he raced away.

Climbing on top of the boxes again, the speaker said, "We have our first lead. If this proves fortuitous, this woman will become quite wealthy. Of course, we know these lands are rife with ancient lore and ruins, so it's possible she has been mistaken. If anyone else would care to come forward, we will accept new clues, with the award being granted to the first to provide actionable intelligence."

The woman and scar-faced man slid back into the crowd, vanishing as others shoved forward. Like a dam breaking, a veritable flood of clues and suggestions came from the gathered, desperate people.

"To the north!" someone cried. "There's a twisted tree about a mile away. Three turns of the lowest branch will reveal what you want."

Shrill, mocking laughter pierced the din as a woman screeched. "That's not it. I'm telling you. It's ten miles away, beneath a patch of moss that only blooms at night."

I looked over at Sharon, who was frowning even as she attended events. "Are we staying here? Should we chase after that other guy?"

She nodded subtly. "There's an eighty-three percent chance that tip was bogus. The treasury is either going to be north of the city or inside of it, not to the south. I’m hoping someone else will have useful intelligence. Even if not, we're going to want to see what happens to this pair."

"But what about the thing that woman showed them? Couldn't that be important?"

"Unlikely. If it was a decisive clue, all three would have gone. My guess is it's just a bit of interesting magic they thought was worth their time."

The next few hours were both eventful and boring, as nothing triggered Sharon's probability spells. She explained that as long as she focused and maintained it, the effect would feed her a constant stream of odds even without hearing the precise details of what anyone said.

We watched as a horde of suggestions came from the crowd, none of them earning enough attention to warrant either of the masked men to investigate.

When lunch time came, I pulled out two of the meals Gost had given me and offered Sharon one. She accepted with a muted thanks, still entirely absorbed in the surveillance.

Chewing a delicious bit of fish, folded in some sort of puff pastry, I mentally asked, "What if we figure out a way to lure one of them into an alley so I can take them out? Splitting them up is the most tactical option, right?"

"Interesting idea, but it probably wouldn't work." She brushed crumbs from her hands. "At least not without drawing unwanted attention. Besides, there's no way they're stupid enough to let that happen without some sort of contingency plan. Also, remember we can’t fight in the city. The System blocked it."

She had several good points.

"I have a question, something I've been curious about. It's about...uh, our mission. How we're doing it. Is it safe to discuss here?"

A pair of icy eyes flicked over to me. "Yes. This type of telepathy is safe. Parasite code changes it enough to keep the System from getting anything meaningful."

"That's what I wanted to ask about. Parasite code. What is it? It's not literal code, right?"

"Yes and no." Sharon shifted slightly, watching a group of locals argue near the crates. "It took machine learning to decrypt enough of the System to create it, so there was a coding element. Once we activated the Parasite injection, it became a purely magical construct, but the old name stuck. In terms of what it is, there's a simple answer and a complex one. Which would you prefer?"

A family, clutching at one another in desperation, made it to the front of the line. The remaining masked assistant went to them, listening to what they said, then waved them away. Behind the family, a trio of armed guards walked into view. They did not look happy.

"Brief," I said, adjusting my stance. Despite the prohibition against the groups fighting within Thanderkand, my adrenaline kicked up.

"Sure. Basically, the injection installs a spell inside your HUD that does two main things. The first is to remind the System how important it is to have powerful adventurers. It does so in a way that disables certain built-in checks and balances. Kind of like finding a really potent spell with a material component and just...erasing that requirement."

The three guards stepped free of the civilians. One waved a gauntleted hand. When the masked attendant moved over, the body language became tense. I slid one hand over the other, ready to summon the Demolition Sphere.

Just when I thought a fight was about to break out, a wudgie in a lavish robe interrupted the discussion. The little man, purple tufts of hair growing from his ears and nose, said something. I thought maybe he mentioned 'Mr. Fingers' but I couldn't be sure. When he was done, the guards frowned, said something to the masked man, then made their way into the crowd.

"I think someone in power knows what's going on here and doesn't want to make a scene," I said, disappointed.

"Very observant of you."

Sharon's tone made me want to growl. "You don't have to sound so surprised. It's not like the only thing I'm capable of is casting 'fist' over and over again."

She snorted. "Fine. Anyway, where was I?"

I almost pointed out her near-perfect memory and the fact that there was no way she’d forgotten where she left off. Instead, I said, "The second thing the injection does?"

"Ah. Yes. It basically looks for anything that would trigger an unwanted response from the System and changes it to the most sensible, safest alternative. That's what dynamically alters what we're talking about when we use our telepathy. It's what changes your class as soon as you're done leveling up, and so on."

"But," I frowned, reasoning through what she'd said, "doesn't that sort of suggest the System has both a local and global presence? Like, a version that's just in my HUD or whatever, and another version that's overseeing all of this?" I gestured generally at the events unfolding before us. "If it can know my real class and capabilities, and still be misled, that has to mean there's different versions. Or maybe it has different types of attention or something?"

"I thought you wanted the simple version?"

"Ah. Yeah. Fair. Simple is good. Honestly, I hate really complex world-building. It always gets in the way of the fun."

She cleared her throat. "I personally find well-executed world-building worth it, thank you very much. You know this is precisely why I assume the first spell you're going to learn has to do with fisting things."

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to find a suitable reply.

"The thing to remember is the Parasite Code, or spell, or whatever you want to think of it as, is added to your connection to the System. That's part of why we warn you about saying things out loud."

For the first time in my life, I said, "You're changing the subject from fisting."

She turned enough to give me a bold, challenging look. "Is that the sort of thing you want to talk about?"

"Well, no."

"Good. Any other questions?"

It took nearly every bit of my self-control to avoid rising to the challenge. Thankfully, all the time and effort I'd been putting into myself was paying off. For some reason, that thought made my scarred palm itch. "Why can't the injection unlock more of my HUD? Why do I have to buy anything with credits?"

"The first thing we did was figure out how to predict the System's response to our alterations. What we found out was that anything we did to make our people more powerful was always safer than tinkering with the HUD or overlay itself. Since we can just spend credits for those upgrades, we leave them alone."

"Interesting."

Another hour, then two passed. Finally, the masked announcer called, "That's enough for today. We have plenty to follow-up on. We'll be here again tomorrow, assuming none of these clues come to fruition."

The pair moved away, taking a side street that might have gone to the mercantile district.

"I hope they end up at our hotel," I said, watching their backs. "Wouldn't that be useful?"

"And you'd do what? Break down their door and attack them?"

"Uh. No. I'd try to get into their room while they were asleep, then stab them in their ear holes. I don't care how many hit points they have; a perforated brain has got to be worth some extra damage multipliers or something. I’m sure the System wouldn’t consider it an attack. More like, uh, involuntary body augmentation."

Sharon stifled a laugh. "Sure. Body augmentation. Anyway, are you ready to get back to our search? We probably have another hour or two until it starts getting dark."

What I wanted was to follow the two Eyes Wide Shut wannabe motherfuckers and break their bones until they were twitching like crushed cockroaches. What I said was, "Sure. Why not?"

The next hour came and went uneventfully, with no signs of the second adventurer group and no indications that the Churn had progressed beyond the defenders. I was a little surprised that none of the refugees had come this way, but Sharon guessed that the local equivalent of high-level spellcasters were teleporting them to pre-prepared safe zones.

Thanderkand was going to become ground zero for what came next, which made it a poor place to take already-traumatized people.

As the evening progressed, we saw more and more signs of the blue-eyed wudgies. I never caught any of them moving to follow, but any time I saw a shadow big enough to conceal one, there was always a pair of glowing blue eyes staring back at me.

"Dean, regarding those wudgies," Sharon said, as the purple and pink hues of sunset darkened the sky, "I have an idea."

"About their leader? Fingering guy?"

"Mr. Fingers," she corrected with a smirk. "And probably not directly. It's about their bites. They are infectious, right?"

"Yeah. And?"

"And you're tough enough to withstand them."

I grudgingly agreed. "Based on one interaction, yes."

She cleared her throat, then explained her idea. When she was done going over the details, she added, "Your guide told you that situations help enhance the types of traits you'll get. I can't think of a better opportunity to try for this particular one."

Part of me wanted to say no. A much larger part wanted to implement her plan immediately. "Just to confirm, before I subject myself to this, if your idea works, I might get one of the best starter traits?"

"One of, if not the best starter trait for your situation, yeah. The key is to make sure you don't trigger the roll until you're in deep. We want to maximize your odds."

"Hate that phrasing, but sure. Let's do it."

Chapter 45: Once Bitten

With no other leads and no signs of the mysterious second group of adventurers, we returned to the hotel to wait until it got dark. Saying she had a trait that bumped her mana recovery while she was sedentary, Sharon took the opportunity to bathe and relax.

I lay on my bed, hands folded across my stomach and tried to rest. Instead, I found myself fantasizing about different ways I wanted to fight the masked adventurers. The takaltu had given me new toys and I was ready to try them out.

When I grew bored of theorizing combat simulations, I switched to thinking about the quarry. There had to be a more direct way to stop the invasions. Maybe a spell like teleport trap to give the defenders time, or an edge. I didn't know enough old magic to guess if such a thing was possible, and figured Sharon would have mentioned it already if she had any insights.

This was where spellcasters came in handy. Area-effect destruction spells would be ideal to wipe out waves of adventurers. Lacking that, someone with access to a breath attack, or damage that spread from one enemy to another.

As increasingly elaborate schemes spun out, I envisioned a spell that would transform a fallen opponent's body into a mass of butterflies. I saw them as made of bone, or living metal, T-1000 style. They'd fly away from their former corpses, slicing into fresh victims, where they would spawn even more of their kind.

It was an utterly ridiculous idea. Not just ridiculous but overpowered as hell. If Parasite injections removed any theoretical limitations, the evil butterflies would spread across the world, killing every living being in a matter of weeks.

I bit back a self-deprecating laugh.

"What's so funny?" Sharon asked, sitting up. A stray strand of illusory red hair, longer than the real thing, fell across one sharp cheekbone.

"Just me theorycrafting ways to do more than cast fist at the bad guys." I told her a few of my ideas, starting with the teleportation one.

When I was done, she chuckled with me. "Yeah. I've got access to quite a few spells, but I've never heard of any like the ones you're describing. Not that the System would give us access to, anyway. There are ways to do mass-extinction events though."

That drew all of my attention. "Okay. Like what?"

"Nothing we need to worry about for now. The System restricts those."

"Sure, but what kind of things are you talking about?"

Frowning, she slid off the bed. Walking to where we'd left the tray tables earlier, she finished off a cup of water. "It's elaborate stuff, Dean. The System rewards creativity and challenge, so all the simple methods we’d use—nukes, for example, are cut right out. Think about people spending generations to develop not one spell, but dozens. And then they combine those spells into another thing, and then that thing has to be delivered in a specific way, usually to a well-defended place."

"Sounds like four-dimensional chess," I observed.

"Precisely. That's why stuff like that is reserved for the inner worlds. Extinction-level events are the only things that can change it up out there. And that leaves holes and opportunities for others to exploit."

I quoted one of Brian’s favorite sayings, "Just another layer in the tower, eh?"

"Yeah. That."

Her eyes flicked upward as she consulted her HUD. "It's time. I'll cast my invisibility spell and be nearby if you need me."

I waved the offer away. "It's a bunch of wudgies. What's the worst that could happen, they tickle me, and I accidentally kick one into next Tuesday?"

Knock Knock

Sharon slammed her knuckles against a chest of drawers. "You knock on wood, and you do it right now, Recruit."

It didn't come across as a request. When I eyed her, I saw she was dead serious. Twisting, I did as she asked, using the wooden head of the bed frame. "Aren't you all logic and reason? How are you superstitious?"

She sniffed, nose turning up. "Old magic proves some superstitions may have grounding in fact."

I got out of bed as she cast her spell. It didn't make her invisible to me, although it did give her an aura that made my eyes itch when I looked at her from nearby. Once she was hidden, we headed outside.

According to my HUD, it was nearly eleven at night local time. I didn't know how it translated against Earth's 24-hour cycle, but the approximation seemed close enough. Both moons were out, and the stars were bright against a city that felt anxious even in its silence. A thick, clinging fog had penetrated the gates and hovered at knee-level above the streets. It spun, creating whorls as I walked toward where I guessed the blue-eyed wudgies were going to be.

I needn't have worried about finding them.

Five minutes after leaving the hotel, they found me.

It was an ambush. The damn things poured out of every conceivable nook and cranny, from behind carts and alleys. Several practically erupted from tall foliage, making squeaky, violent sounds as they rushed to greet me.

"I'm being mobbed by vampire Hoggles that squeak," I complained an instant before the first wave arrived.

Sharon's plan had been to take at least ten bites before I tried rolling for the trait. That part shouldn’t take long, provided I didn’t give into my reflexes and start flinging them away.

Six of the little ankle-biters latched on right away, drawing blood. The points of contact were both chilly and itched, a bit like getting stung by a mosquito crossed with having your skin brushed by ice. Their furry bodies pressed against my legs, surprisingly warm compared to their frigid bites. The sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant, but the conflicting hot-cold made my skin crawl.

It took all my self-control not to kick the bastards free to scratch at the bites.

It didn't take long for me to wish that Sharon's superstition about hitting wood had been true.

One by one, the wudgie's blue eyes began to pulse, transforming from blue to bright orange. When that happened, they peeled off, expressions alternating between awe-struck and horrified.

More wudgies took the others' places. As the swarm grew, the sheer enthusiastic mass overwhelmed my balance. Happy chirping sounds followed as the creatures dogpiled on top of me. The damn things were so furry, it was almost like being mobbed by oversized cats, if cats had needle-sharp fangs and drank your blood while squealing in delight.

"Damn. I think you've got nearly a hundred of the things trying to get to you. What are you made of, wudgie-nip?" Sharon's mental voice sounded far too amused.

"Joke when I'm not about to be suffocated by a mess of wanna-be gem trolls. Do you think I'm ready?"

"I thought we decided they were Gwildors? And yeah. What's your HUD say?"

I checked it, feeling a rush of dizziness as multiple wudgies attached themselves to my neck. The results were basically a mirror of the first attack, just repeated thirty times. When I told the Lieutenant, she replied with an enthusiastic, "That should be even better than what I was hoping for! Do it."

My vision blurred from blood loss as I navigated to the trait menu. The sheer mass of dozens of furry bodies made breathing difficult, and the chattering chorus of their excited squeaks filled my ears. With effort, I focused enough to activate the roll for my Toughness trait.

A wall of text appeared on my HUD, accompanied by a golden pulse as my luck generated a fourth Starter Trait option. My heart raced with anticipation, almost matching the frantic rhythm of the wudgies' fangs as they continued to drain my blood.

The options were: Enduring as Time, I Still Stand, Ignorance Is Bliss, and Evolution is My Weapon. I read the details of each, the world around me seeming to slow as I considered my choices.

***

Starter Trait Selection – Toughness

Luck has triggered, granting you a fourth option!

As Enduring as Time: You no longer age or become fatigued. Even spells that would exhaust or alter your age fail. You no longer need sleep, although you may choose to if you so desire.

I Still Stand: Your hit points are doubled. Any physical attack that would instantly kill you instead reduces you to 1. This may trigger up to 1 time per day per 30 of your levels (minimum 1).

Ignorance is Bliss: You may add your Toughness to your Attunement score for the purposes of resisting harmful effects. Furthermore, negative spells or effects from sources of 5 levels below you automatically fail. Limitation: You may not cast or learn System spells, although you may still use magical items normally.

When I began reading the last option, the British accent kicked in. It sounded both eager and a little perturbed.

System Note: The following trait has been offered for two reasons—current circumstances and your heightened luck. On a personal level, we know which you’re going to pick, and we encourage your creativity in acquiring it. We just wish it hadn’t been gained against wudgies. Next time be more bombastic, won’t you?

Anyway, here it is. Tuck in, it’s a long one.

Evolution is My Weapon

This pinnacle starter trait has multiple properties, which are as follows:

Passive Resistance Boost: You gain a bonus to your Toughness proportionate to the difficulty/potency of any body-altering negative effect. This includes curses, organic alterations (like diseases) and much more. The bonus begins small (1%) and scales up to 500% (if you were, for example, trying to resist the effects of an elder being). This proportionality takes your level into effect. At level 50, the benefit you enjoy against a given effect will be less than it would have been at level 5.

Immutability: Body-altering negative effects have their duration reduced by half, even if they fully succeed in affecting you. Those with a duration of “permanent” or “eternal” have it reduced to a maximum of 120 days.

Adaptation: Each time you resist an effect, there is a small chance your body will adapt. If it does, you will gain a selection of enhancements based on the nature of the effect. You will be allowed to choose one of them, which will be immediately and permanently applied.

Like Passive Resistance Boost, Adaptation’s chance of triggering increases against more potent effects. Please, throw yourself against spell-casting dragons. The System is excited for the outcome.

Due to the potential for Adaptation to be exploited, the beneficial effect may only trigger in circumstances where you are in legitimate danger. Yes, having a hundred mana-draining, vampiric wudgies assaulting you counts, but only because of your relatively low level.

Types of Adaptations: Because you are lucky, the list of adaptations may be expanded. Adaptations will be curated, coded to be thematically appropriate for your class and the situation, and limited relative to the circumstances from which they are gained.

Additional Limitations: Like the trait that grants them, adaptations may or may not function in areas with no or low-mana. Ones that augment your biology directly will probably remain intact. No promises.

***

I thought hard about the options. As Enduring as Time would, objectively, be a life-changing ability for 99.99% of all people. Who didn't want to become immortal? The thought of never aging or tiring was enticing, especially with my aspirations to train attribute points. I could workout so much if I never got tired.

I Still Stand was the most thematically appropriate name of a trait ever for someone like me. The doubled hit points and ability to ignore a lethal attack seemed perfectly aligned with what I wanted.

Even Ignorance is Bliss had a certain appeal. I wanted a simple character sheet, with powers I didn't need to juggle and plan for. Strategy was not my strong suit. Simply ignoring that spells existed all-together would have been awesome. Then there was the added benefit that the wording appeared to explicitly allow me to still learn old magic spells.

But then there was Evolution is My Weapon.

Holy. Shit. That wasn't one ability, or even two as the previous options had been. As Sharon suggested, it was likely the best possible trait that I could have asked for. For anything related to body-altering effects, such as curses or diseases, it provided a scaling boost to my resistances. On top of that, there was a small chance that I could transmute any of them into a useful, and most importantly, permanent, boost. If I could adapt to threats, it would allow me to scale even beyond what Mana Sensitivity provided.

The downside was obvious: it was stupidly niche. To activate, someone had to try to alter my body, not just hold me back or keep me in place. It pertained to the situation right now but likely wouldn't engage with near the regularity of the other options.

Still, my current predicament with the wudgies offered an immediate test case. And who knew what other curses and afflictions awaited me in future adventures? Being able to not only resist them but potentially gain strength from them? That was too good to pass up.

One fact made the decision easy.

I had a guide and Parasite Code. With deliberation, I should be able to choose future quests, tailoring them to take advantage of the trait. It would be like adding my own side missions to System quests.

No sooner had I selected Evolution is My Weapon than a separate prompt appeared.

Evolution Triggered!

Fiend by Night Adaptation Gained

Choose one of the following permanent benefits:

· Night vision

· +25 Strength

· +25 Toughness

· Bite Attack (Fangs – Warning: May give a lisp)

· Slow Fall Effect (Reduces falling speed and the damage from gravitational-based impacts by 30%)

Reminder: You will not be allowed to gain this adaptation multiple times in quick succession unless you are at risk of significant bodily harm. There will be no wudgie-adaptation farming.

Seeing the +25 Strength, any doubt about my choice vanished in an instant. I took it without hesitation, already imagining how much more powerful it would make me.

NEW Strength score — 140

Apocalypse BREAKER Active Strength — 196

Unlock a new Strength trait in 10 more points.

Getting an evolution wasn't gaining a level or a trait. Instead of being filled with fire or ice, this was like getting sick.

Just...in the best way possible.

My skin flushed as my body adapted, muscles swelling then contracting as they became far more dense. I became unfocused and confused, disoriented. Yet in that confusion, I intuited what was happening.

The adaptation wasn't simply adding raw strength; as the trait was titled, this was my body evolving along the same path as the original affliction. That wasn't to say I was getting "Vampiric Strength" or any similar nonsense.

No.

This was my unique version of that ability, my biology responding to the threat by becoming stronger, my muscles compacting and hardening in ways that felt fundamentally different from before.

"Recruit, they are going to bleed you dry if you don't do something," Sharon called, pulling me from my thoughts. The rush of the change and sense of accomplishment had fully distracted me for nearly a minute, during which dozens of fresh hairy bastards had gotten hold of me.

I assessed the situation, seeing only a few remaining blue eyes on or around me. Compared to the initial flood, this was nothing. But my HUD revealed that I was, indeed, in danger. They'd nicked me down to fewer than thirty hit points, which was basically unthinkable.

How had they done so much damage, so quickly?

Fingers flexing with new power, I grabbed handfuls of coarse hair and began flinging the critters off me.

SQUEAK!

They chirped as I pulled them free, arms and legs pinwheeling desperately as they tried to claw their way closer. Then, when I tossed them aside, they landed with squeaking sounds that made them seem more adorable than dangerous.

I couldn't have gotten angry at them if I tried.

It took a few seconds of focused work to clear the area, after which I tactically retreated to the hotel. Sharon joined me, taking advantage of the HUD and her invisibility to issue warnings when wudgies sneaked up on me from behind. I had to pause numerous times to drop-kick the stubborn things away.

To my relief, I was pleased to note that none of the ones I saw take a boot to the face died. They just...kept squeaking, then growling and rushing back over.

When we got to the hotel, we found the side entrance worked with our key. We entered and slammed the door shut with care. Woozy from blood loss, Sharon helped me up to our room.

"You're covered in blood," she said, all clinical as she half-carried me to the tub. "Go ahead and get in. We need to get you washed so the healing can do the rest."

A little cross-eyed, I tried to snap my fingers. It took three attempts. "You know what's odd?"

"What?"

"That all the ones with orange eyes just vanished like that. I wonder where they went?"

Sharon's eyes narrowed, then widened. "Oh crap. I was so focused on getting you that trait that I forgot. How much of your mana did they drink?"

I gave her a goofy grin. "A whole bunch."

Combat Summary

Dean Versus A LOT of Wudgies

Victor: N/A

Enemies: A swarm of level ~5 equivalent cursed/amplified Wudgies

Losses: Lots of hit points

Rewards: N/A – This was less of a combat and more of a painful cuddle puddle; the System does not reward cuddles.

Interlude: Dreams

THUNK! THUNK! THUD!

“You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you? Smug little shit. What's this?”

THUD!

Brian’s voice carried through the door. “Hey! Give that back!”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed into the bathroom. As I’d expected, Brian had his back to a wall, backpack cradled against his chest. He’d grown over the last summer, and between the martial arts classes our dad had gotten us and good genes, he’d started to fill out. He looked sixteen, unlike the skinny thirteen-year-olds who were busy beating the crap out of him.

He spotted me, face lighting up. One of his eyes was already swollen shut, and he had a busted, bleeding lip. Smiling had to hurt. He did it anyway.

I shook my head, annoyed. Ignoring the kids, I said, “You’re a brown belt now, dude. What the hell are you doing letting these guys roll you like this?”

Before he could respond, all three turned to me. The leader of the group, a blond rich kid named Tray, sneered. “If it ain’t the ‘tism twins. C’mon Deanie-beanie. We got some for you, too.”

Until that moment, I hadn’t felt anything. Not pity for my brother. Not remorse at not being there sooner. Nothing.

But as Tray lifted his fists toward me, I felt the only emotion I’d ever known.

The fight didn’t last long. As usual, I went too far. All three limped out of the bathroom, crying and holding limbs that were probably broken. I hadn’t gone unharmed. Three-against-one are stupid odds, and it wasn’t as if Brian helped.

That was okay.

Pain was fine, as long as I got to give it back with interest.

Shaking with the aftermath of the confrontation, I scowled at my brother. He was still smiling at me, one good eye shining with tears. “I knew you’d come to save me. You’re my hero, you know.”

I snapped, so frustrated I would gladly have kicked his ass if it hadn’t already been black and blue. “I’m not that person.” Bending down, I picked up a figurine from the tile floor and threw it at him. Anger flared as I screamed, “I am not who you think I am. When are you going to get that through your stupid brain?”

He caught the figure one handed. The casual gesture spoke volumes. Brian was way better at fighting than I was. The kid was practically a genius, his ADHD or whatever giving him a superpower to dismantle anyone who came against him.

Only in sparring matches though. Never in real life.

The sounds of outrage carried through the wall. “That’ll be the principal,” I said, still breathing hard. “It’ll be detention again. Maybe for weeks this time. Assuming I didn’t break Tray’s elbow.”

“You didn’t,” Brian said confidently, holding the figurine up. “Also, you know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“We’ll be together after school! I have this idea I want to run by you.”

I rolled my eyes, lip curling. “You know I don’t have time for your stupid games.”

Undaunted, he plowed on. “No, hold on. You’re going to love this. What if we re-did the monster stats for dinosaurs and made them way cooler? I’m talking about Jurassic Park dialed all the way up. Wouldn’t that be neat?”

For some reason, that made me laugh. It wasn’t a kind sound, not even close. “You’re such a nerd. No wonder they call us that.”

“What, the ‘tism twins?”

“Yeah.”

Brian walked over to me. “I told them we’re not twins, but they don’t get it. Figure they heard it from their parents. Meanness like that isn’t natural, you know. It has to be learned.”

Footsteps came from outside and I could hear muffled voices. One sounded like Tray’s friend. The boy was whimpering.

Good.

“How do you explain me then, Bri?” I asked, curious but not really caring about the answer.

He replied with all the earnestness of a puppy. “You can be good and hurt people. It just has to be the right people, and for the right reasons. Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’ll figure this out together.”

Lifting the dinosaur right into my face, he added, “Now, let me tell you about this little guy. He’s so cute, isn’t he? He’s called a pterosaur.”

The dream froze, rewinding.

Brian smiled at me, one good eye shining with tears. I read the emotions there, saw them through the lens of my new attributes. He’d had faith in me, the kind of faith only a child could possess.

There’d been no doubt, no recognition of the monster I truly was.

His next words seared through my mind, burned a tunnel of guilt a mile wide. “I knew you’d come to save me. You’re my hero, you know.”

I hadn’t come to save him. Hearing those voices, I’d known what was happening. Known, and thought it was a good thing. Brian needed to learn to stand up for himself. If it took beatings to learn that, so be it.

The only reason I’d gone into that room was for the chance to hurt Tray and his friends. And to be hurt in return.

That was it.

Brian, my insightful, stupid brother, hadn’t seen that about me. Or, if he had, he’d twisted it to whatever he wanted to find there.

I shouted at him. “I’m not that person. I am not who you think I am. When are you going to get that through your stupid brain?”

The dream slid forward.

My brother’s eyes reminded me of Sharon’s. There was calculation in them, a math that belied the innocent tone and innocuous words. “You can be a hero and hurt people. It just has to be the right people, and for the right reasons. Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’ll figure this out together.”

After that, the entire thing rebooted, starting from the beginning. I didn’t know if I was being reminded of something or not, but the overwhelming sense I got was of a third party, of someone else, joining me on the journey.

And whatever it was seemed… fascinated.

Chapter 46: Detours

I woke with a start, covered in sweat and my body aching from head to foot. “Damn it. One of those wudgies gave me a cold or something.”

Sharon’s bed creaked as she climbed to her feet. Her illusory visage looked contemplative and a little concerned. With a gesture, her eyes glowed. “Oh. This is interesting. You’re not sick; your body is just still adapting.”

“Huh?” Sitting up made my stomach tighten on the verge of cramping. Waves of hunger and thirst hit me like trucks as I forced myself to my feet. Crossing to a tray of breakfast, now lukewarm, I began gulping it down.

“Your connective tissue is still being rebuilt. Tendons, ligaments, all of it. I even see activity in your brain.”

I reached up, hand on my forehead. The skin was hot even to my touch, but there was no pain. “No migraine. Barely a headache.” I went for a cup of water, downed it, then moved to a second.

She muttered, “Glad I asked for them to bring extra portions of everything,” then went back to using her logical voice. “When the System upgrades us, it does it holistically and basically instantaneously. There’s still quite a learning curve, as you’ve no doubt found out by now, but it’s certainly not organic about how it changes our biology. This is more…well, scientific.”

“Oh,” I said around a mouth-full of bread crust. “Like the evolutionary power is provided by the System, but what it’s doing is natural.” It came out as a garbled mess.

Sharon got it. “Right. My guess is the stuff it’s doing to your brain is to acclimate to the new strength without accidentally crushing door handles again.”

“Nifty.” Not quite so famished, I pointed. “I’m going to need Sly’s bigger brother. Maybe I should name him ‘Balboa’, what do you think?”

Following my finger, she snorted. “I still don’t think attribute training is going to work for you.”

“Certainly not with that attitude,” I retorted, walking over to pick the rock up. “You know, it’s a real testament to how well-constructed this building is that Sly didn’t punch through the floor.”

“Magic happens.”

“Fair.”

Sly seemed significantly lighter today. As I moved it from one hand to the other, my muscles quivered, making me drop the rock. “Ah,” I said, moving my foot between it and the floor. The impact made me wince and bite back a yelp.

“You know,” Sharon said, sounding far too amused, “maybe some practice is in order. Once the transformation finishes and that fever breaks, that is.”

I didn’t care for the sound of that. “Are you suggesting we take it easy today?”

“Not the entire day. Another hour or two and you should be good to go.” She returned to her bed, sitting atop the already-made sheets with her legs folded beneath her. “So, how did the spell work? Did you dream?”

Her question caught me off guard, causing the dream to surface with such clarity that it might as well have been one of my most vivid memories. I nearly dropped Sly again. “We spend a lot of time talking about me. How about we do you for once?”

Two bright red eyebrows lifted. “Are you trying to get to know me, or are you avoiding a delicate subject?”

“Can’t it be both?”

She laughed. It was a bright, honest sound that I found myself enjoying more than I would have expected. “What do you want to know?” In mid-sentence, she switched to telepathy. “I’m an Analyst for Counterstrike, and assigned to help you optimize your potential. What else is there?”

I joined her, toggling telepathy on. The HUD made it so seamless and easy that it was like speaking normally. It was one, among many, reasons that I would miss traveling with Sharon when the Event ended.

“How about the person before you were Activated? Or maybe how it happened in the first place?”

Lifting a finger to her chin, she squinted, looking into the distance. “I got Activated in the normal way. A dragon nearly landed on the science lab I was working at. It destroyed the servers, then flew off. Didn’t even try to kill anyone, just…left. Anyone who comes within about three hundred feet of a dragon has about a 1% chance to get Activated. I was the lucky one.” Her tone was dry on the last words.

“That sounds familiar. What happened then?”

“Standard recruitment stuff. This was in a time when Events were spaced out, so I had plenty of time to go through full training. When I met my guide, we had my gameplan pretty well mapped out.”

“So, you always knew you’d be an Analyst?”

“Mhm.” She tilted her head down. “I passed out when the dragon came. You know how you felt with those kids?”

“Yeah.” I still didn’t fully understand that reaction. My best guess was still that my high attributes were allowing (or forcing) me to feel things I hadn’t in a long time. Or never had in the first place.

“I get that way around fighting. My stomach gets messed up. I get dizzy. It’s not good. The most I’m good for in a fight are basic augmentations.” She indicated Sly. “I could make you really accurate if you ever want to throw your pet rock at someone, but after it hits… I’m useless.”

“So, you’re basically the opposite of me.” My stomach growled again, so I went to the speaking tube and ordered two more meals and drinks. The wudgie attendant promised it would be up shortly.

“Yeah,” she said when I was done. “I’ve never been good around blood or people getting hurt. Thankfully, the System has non-combat missions, otherwise I’d be proper screwed.”

“I’m kind of surprised it has those.” I took a seat on the edge of my bed as a wave of heat raced from my toes to the crown of my head. Sweat burst from every pore and my heartbeat thudded so hard I could hear it without even trying. Looking down at my arm, I saw veins and tendons standing out. They flushed with a purple-red color before slowly, gradually, relaxing. “Huh. It’s affecting the disguise, too.”

“The best disguise spells line things up, so what happens to the real body is mirrored in the fake image,” she replied, answering my second comment before my first. “We’re pretty sure non-coms exist in the System for the worst reasons, not the best.”

“Eh?”

“Specialists in farming grow food for the masses, who become adventurers. They might also help someone with a poison-focused class grow a new strain of plant that could be used to kill a lot of people. It’s about pragmatism, not grace. After all, resources have to come from somewhere.”

I shook my head. Every new thing I learned about the System only highlighted its cruelty. “How is it we keep getting back on the System? We’re talking about you. Do you enjoy your job?”

Knock. Knock.

“Food service for ye,” a wudgie called through the door.

I opened it, accepting a pair of heaping trays from Cherry. The woman looked exhausted, eyes sunken with black rings beneath them. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me, visibly weighing what to say. “An oracle predicted we’ll see a breakthrough soon. Today, mayhap tomorrow. It’s got everyone scramblin’.”

“Breakthrough?”

“Aye. One of them adventurers is like tae get free and come this way. They’ve done that on other worlds. Push through to soften the support lines. We’re tryin’ tae get ready. That’s why I’m up so early. We’re helping prepare meals and bandages and what-not.” She leaned in, waving at Sharon. “You and your friend ought to stay inside for a day or two, if yah know what’s good for ya. If we can push whatever comes, it should buy us a little more time. Mayhap.”

She didn’t sound very hopeful. If anything, she seemed certain of imminent failure.

“Thanks,” I said, putting the trays on a table next to the door. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Cherry gave me a forced, weak smile. “You look a little sick, me boy. I think regardless of what comes next, an extra bath and some rest will do ye a world of good.” With that, she turned and hurried away.

I closed the door, turning to see Sharon standing and adjusting her clothes.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Dean, I’ve got access to probability magic. There’s an eighty-two percent chance I know what you’re going to say next.”

“But I don’t know what I’m going to say next,” I protested.

She crossed her arms, cocked her hip, and eyed me. “And when you realize that all those kids you saw yesterday might be in the line of fire, you’re going to…”

The growl escaped my throat before I knew what I was doing. As soon as I did, I got it to stop. Barely. A wave of cold poured from my chest, where it smothered the heat from my fever. Within seconds of her saying the words, all signs of illness evaporated.

My stomach growled, protesting the ‘all signs’ part of my observation. “Let me clean up and finish some food and we’ll go look around.”

“Sure.” She kept standing, casting spells as I wolfed down the food, then hurried to bathe off the stink of illness.

It took a solid fifteen minutes for me to put myself back together and finish both plates of food. When I was done, I collected Sly and we made our way outside.

Thanderkand had gone from bustling to eerie and quiet. Even on the merchant’s street, I saw only a few people out and most of those were soldiers.

“Sharon,” I asked telepathically, trying to guess where we could go to provide any help. “You’ve got context for this, right? How bad are things about to get?”

“The sort of adventurer who can get through a solid defensive position during a Churn usually has one or two specific advantages: flight or teleportation. Neither of those require the person to be particularly high level or covered in relics, just lucky. Typically, they will have at least one magical item or ability that will make them dangerous for a settlement such as this.”

“Like what?”

“Grenade-launcher type stuff. Or maybe laser eyes. You’d be shocked how many adventurers end up with some sort of eye-based damaging ability. They tend to do relatively low amounts of damage in straight lines, but have a lot of range. It’s effective for mowing down non-Activated people.”

She delivered it all in the same, matter-of-fact tone, as if she were reciting from a textbook.

I started us toward the main gate, guessing if we could get between the city and the inbound adventurer we might be able to do something. I wasn’t sure what, but anything was better than just letting it happen.

“If the locals could predict that it’s likely to happen, can’t they use that intelligence to stop it?”

Moving next to me, I sensed her activating multiple abilities. Her gloves, cape, and boots all produced different types of magic. I’d been around her enough by now that it barely made me uncomfortable.

“Not really. Old world foretelling is similar to what you’d expect,” she said. “Omens and riddles. It’s mostly useless. I’m sure there might be some archmage out there, on some random planet, who can use foresight effectively, but if so we haven’t encountered them yet. That probably means something, to be honest.”

“And the System’s version?”

“It is more useful,” she admitted silently, holding a hand up, “but don’t forget that I’m a poor example. Counterstrike helped me build my capabilities one brick at a time. As overpowered as you’re trying to become, I’m already there. Well, maybe minus a few bells and whistles. You get the idea though. I’ve got the best traits, the best class build, optimized titles, and the best gear, on top of being a decent level. For anyone else, the spells I cast would be less useful and take minutes, or even hours and days, to cast.”

For some reason, that made me feel a lot better.

A wudgie in a silk robe stepped into view just as we arrived at the gate. Golden rivers of waxed hair flowed from the three-foot-tall man’s head and wove into his ear, nose, and beard in geometric patterns. Coins and tiny, glowing mana gems winked from within the haystack’s worth of hair as he gestured to us with a beringed hand.

“Halt! Halt, I say.” He had a shrill, reedy voice that made me want to see how far I could punt him.

The only reason I stopped was because he bodily moved to intercept me.

“My master has requested a word with you. Immediately. You are to report to him now.”

I looked the guy over, then at Sharon, who sent a mental, “I’m good either way. Your call.”

“Why should we give a flying albatross' butt about your master or his summons?” I asked, deciding to give the guy all of ten more seconds before I gave into my inclinations.

Drawing himself up a solid inch and a half, the wudgie cleared his throat. “I’ll have you know that I am Mayor Rumblebelt, current overseer of this city, and my master is known as Mr. Fingers. He says that you must visit him now, that the fate of the city itself hangs in the balance.”

I pointed at the gate. “Mr. Rumblebelt, my current plan is to go through those doors and see if I can help defend your city. Why should I delay to talk to the fingering guy?”

Sharon snorted.

“If you require a bribe, I am authorized to tell you this. My master knows the identities and whereabouts of the three adventurers you have yet to identify. He says he is willing to trade that knowledge for your compliance.”

Sharon and I exchanged looks. We both knew the math, and how the Mayor’s declaration changed things.

“Fine,” I said, “a detour. But, and I mean this with all my heart, if anyone tries to finger anything of mine, I’m going to be quite upset.”

Rumblebelt did not laugh.

Sharon did.

It was a good thing I only cared about one of them getting the joke.

Chapter 47: Mr. Fingers

The mayor led us down a southern road that branched multiple times before giving way to a fenced property. He gestured to a pair of wudgie guards, who opened the wrought-iron gates to reveal a mansion scaled to its primary occupants. Unlike the functional wooden structures we'd seen throughout Thanderkand, this estate stood apart—a testament to wealth and power in a city preparing for war.

The mansion's pearly façade gleamed with a subtle iridescence, its marble columns supporting an arched entryway. Gold-encrusted spires rose from the building’s wings, which stretched a good hundred feet to either side of the main building. The grounds themselves were immaculate—complete with hedges shaped to resemble heroically-proportioned wudgies.

Seeing a buff, four-and-a-half-foot tall version of the people, particularly given their gifted facial follicles, was more than a little amusing.

The main door stood only five feet high. Instead of taking us to the main house, Rumblebelt pointed us to a human-sized cellar entrance off to one side of the estate. It had the heavily reinforced steel doors I'd become familiar with at our hotel.

As we neared the entrance, two burly humans with bright, glowing blue eyes stepped from the cellar doorway. With swords on one hip, crossbows on their back, and elaborate metal armor, they barely acknowledged our presence. Their fluid, synchronized movements struck me as too coordinated to be natural.

"He'll meet you below," Rumblebelt said, stopping next to the guards. His fingers twisted nervously against each other as his eyes darted toward the mansion. "Please, just do what he says. We won't survive without his help."

With that oh-so-warm-and-fuzzy tidbit lingering in the air, I took the lead.

Moving down a steep stairwell carved directly into bedrock, we emerged in a lavish subterranean room. Illuminated by a smokeless, magical fireplace that cast dancing shadows across the walls, it was decorated like a politician's office space. Bright, paisley wallpaper covered the walls, and a large, mahogany desk occupied a full corner of the area. Bookshelves, each crammed with well-read tomes, decorated nearly every available inch of wall space. Two heavy metal doors took up opposite sides of the room, one leading directly beneath the mansion and the other further into the grounds.

Lounging behind the desk, a book held in one discolored hand, was Mr. Fingers. Naturally, he was the magician we'd seen at the quarry several nights before.

"Excellent, you came," he said, putting the book down and straightening. Mr. Fingers had a sepulchral, echoing voice that emanated not just from his throat but from the very walls around us.

I had a quip ready, fully intending to unload on the guy, but then Mana Sensitivity went into overdrive. At first, I couldn't detect anything meaningful, as being inside the room was like entering a meat freezer. After a second or two, I adapted enough to discern something terribly off about the man across from us.

He felt...wrong. Not just powerful or dangerous, but fundamentally incongruous with anyone I’d met since acquiring the trait.

Lifting both hands with deliberate slowness, the mage pulled the hood of his heavy robe back, revealing a youthful face. A pair of burning eyes, one blue and one green, regarded the two of us patiently, waiting for a reply.

Sharon stood still beside me, her breathing measured and controlled. Though her face remained impassive, I noticed her fingers twitch slightly—the equivalent of a scream from someone with her composure. She went first. "I know who you are."

"Do you?" He sounded pleased, teeth flashing white against unnaturally pale skin. "Tell me, adventurer, who do you think I am?"

"Telkazorin." She pronounced his name as a curse.

Willfully ignoring the creepy vibes the guy was giving off, I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry. What's a 'Telkazorin' and why did you say his name like that?"

The grinning mage waved. "Go on, Sharon. Tell him. We've got a few minutes, and he really needs to understand before we move on."

Sharon took a small, but visible, step away from the desk. Eyeing the man, she spoke quickly. "The System isn't alone, in terms of being a galaxy-spanning power. There are others. Creatures that have been jumping from one world, or even one plane, to another, for a long time. This," she pointed at the man, "is just a shell. A vessel for the entity called Telkazorin."

Throughout her explanation, Sharon's eyes never left the mage, tracking each minute movement. Her posture remained deceptively casual, but I noticed how she'd positioned herself to move in any direction if needed.

I kept my eyes on Telkazorin. "You're a daemon?"

Some of his bright smile faltered at my question. "A peer. One who has grown potent enough that the distinction between my origination and theirs is as thin as a knife's edge."

"And you're defending Thanderkand?"

"I'm defending my territory, yes," he agreed, the smile returning. "And I shall continue to do so for as long as I can. The information I've been able to export from this world has been invaluable in my research, and I am far from done. It is, therefore, in my best interest, that you succeed in your mission."

“What do you know of our mission?” I shot back.

He laughed, two-tone eyes twinkling. “Dean, my peers and I have been at this, fighting the System, for tens of thousands of years. There are patterns. When a discovery prompts a world to be taken off Protected status, and a pair of adventurers show up to defend the planet almost immediately afterward, I can put two and two together. Tell me I’m wrong? Tell me the System doesn’t want you to stop your peers from finding and raiding Stephanos’s treasury?”

I couldn’t deny the logic. Murmuring, “Enemy of my enemy,” I turned to Sharon. “Can we trust him?”

She maintained her careful stillness, eyes calculating.

Telkazorin answered for her. "Of course not, but you don't have a choice, do you? Tell him, fortune teller. Tell him how you survive this Event."

She lifted her hand to cast a spell, then hesitated until he waved impatiently for her to continue. Magic ghosted across her hand as I sensed the HUD extension appear in front of her eyes.

"And?" the mage pressed. "The truth, if you please." He lifted a hand, a golden bracelet glinting into view.

Sharon licked her lips, looking from the man to me and back. "There's a path where we listen to you and leave this house without conflict. But there is another." She stopped short of elaborating.

"Oh, really?" Intrigue flared in the shell's two-tone eyes. "Well, I vote we go with the first. We wouldn't want to distract the city's primary defender, would we, Dean?"

Sharon's telepathic voice addressed me quickly. "The name-dropping is a power play. He must have spies. If he knew the truth, he'd be showing way more of his hand. Don't assume he's all-powerful, and don't risk giving anything away."

"Thanks for the heads up," I replied, simultaneously saying out loud, "I'm here to stop the System. If we've got a personal problem, how about we deal with that after we save this place?"

"Well said." He gestured and one of the iron doors opened without a sound. Beyond was a corridor lined with polished wood so dark it absorbed light. Magical torches in elaborate, filigree-covered sconces lined the wall. "With that out of the way, shall we walk? I need to explain a few things before we bargain."

"After you," I said.

With a smirk so dipped in condescension it was the philosophical equivalent of a double-glazed donut, the mage took the lead. This close, I saw just how short and lean his body (or shell?) was. Even in the voluminous robe, I guessed he might have weighed a hundred and twenty pounds, if that. Yet the air around him was denser, heavier—as if gravity itself bent toward his presence.

"Do you know what makes wudgies so special?" he asked, voice echoing.

"That they all kind of resemble old men?"

He missed a step, then with a hitching breath, chuckled. "I hadn't thought of that. But no. It's their innate magical resistance. It makes them fiendishly difficult to enthrall or enchant. That trait also happens to be precisely what we need to resist the System's influence. There's only one catch. Can you guess what it is?"

Sharon spoke from just behind me. "Free will. Magic resistance doesn't matter if someone just lets it in."

"Well spoken, although I wouldn't use the words 'free will' -- rather, I'd say the problem is with temptation. Remove temptation, add magic resistance, and you've got quite a potent mix." Telkazorin finished his speech at another door, which he opened with a series of concealed gestures and a key.

Beyond, we came into a domed, circular room filled with cots. Dozens of robed wudgies lay on the beds, their child-sized bodies locked in place. Only their heads moved, thrashing back and forth as orange-red light bled through their closed eyelids. The air vibrated with unheard whispers, and the temperature dropped further.

"As I'm sure you've guessed by now, I am, in my heart, a creature of exploration. Knowledge, as much as authority or power, drives me. Thus, it is with no little consternation that I admit to finding myself with a problem I cannot fix." Telkazorin flourished his mismatched fingers at the recumbent bodies. "Dean, I would very much appreciate it if you'd teach me how to undo what you've done to my darlings."

I stood there, taking it all in, for all of a second as my brain caught up with what he'd just admitted. When it did, I stepped up, grabbed his arm and spun him around. His eyes widened as I grabbed the front of his robe and lifted him from the ground, pulling his false face inches from mine.

"You did this," I growled. "You sent the swarm to ambush us. It was all a fucking experiment, wasn't it? One of them went catatonic, so you sent more." Shaking with rage as sudden and hot as any volcano, I shook him like a rat. "You've made them into slaves, haven't you?"

Telkazorin went mostly limp as he lifted a hand over my arm. There was a brief, sharp, pulse of magic and a lance of ice sheared through more than flesh. It struck too fast for me to process, went too deep for my nerves, physical or magical, to register.

And the result was just as impossible to follow.

The mage's face went slack, then his blue eye darkened, flooded with orange mist. It looked as if he, too, would be overcome by whatever had stricken the wudgie vampires. Before the transformation was completed, however, he jammed two of his own fingers into the socket, ripping the eyeball free.

It landed on the ground with a wet sound, rolling toward Sharon who took a step back, her face revealing nothing while her hands hovered near her inventory pouch.

"I'll tell you who the others are," he growled with audible reluctance, "and I'll help you find the treasury."

The anger had me, hot and in danger of boiling over. My free hand burned, demanding that I summon my relic and deal with this creature. Teeth gritted, I growled, "Next time, ask for help. I'll be glad to pull your body apart."

"Without my agents, the city would already be overrun," he said, voice a little more desperate. "My gifts don't harm them. If anything, the volunteers are stronger from it." The emphasis on 'volunteers' was unmistakable.

"And when this is over, you'll release them?" Sharon prompted from nearby. Her voice was so cool, so casual, that I had to look over at her. She was standing a few feet away, as smug as Telkazorin's earlier condescension while her eyes cataloged every detail of the scene.

"I'll release them after this Event if that's what you want," he said. "Now, put my shell down!"

I hesitated, seriously considering going for the other eye. Everything about this situation told me that I was in contact with true evil. If the fingers hadn't screamed Dr. Frankenstein, everything else did.

But he had offered to free the wudgies and I'd seen him helping to protect the townsfolk.

It was with great reluctance that I let go.

He fell, stumbling as slipper-clad feet smacked into the floor. Backing away, he fixed me with his one good eye, unspoken threats filling the air. "How do I free them?"

"No clue," I replied as nonchalantly as I could. "Let me try something." Without waiting for his approval, I made my way further into the room, to a nearby bed.

Behind me, Sharon said, "The mana draining they do. You're using them to fuel the mana gem we saw on the way in." She hadn't phrased it as a question, but moved carefully to position herself where she could observe both me and Telkazorin at once.

"That's right. They defend the city and drain anyone out after curfew. The tax helps pay for the city's defenses. It also keeps adventurers from sneaking around."

I came to a stop next to a wudgie. It was probably, maybe, a female. Not that it mattered. Looking down at her, I brought my scarred palm up. I focused on the symbols and narrowed my eyes, trying to find the place of meditative calm where I'd felt a connection to the Unforged Rod.

"My guess is you were trying to help me. Help me again."

A breeze wafted through the enclosed space as the orange-eyed wudgies, all of them, spoke in unison. "Voluntati tuae voluntas mea adhaereat." The phrase held a ritual quality, almost a supplication rather than a command.

Through Sharon's subtle inhale, I could tell she recognized the language. “That’s the voice you heard at the cart, wasn’t it?”

“Similar, yeah.”

“Pretty sure that’s Latin. One second, I have a translation spell.” Narrowing her eyes, she cast the spell, then repeated the chant to herself. “It’s saying, ‘May my will join yours’.”

I tried remembering the previous one, from the cart. The words came easily. “What about, ‘Per voluntatem tuam fiam’.”

“That means, ‘By your will I will be made.’"

A cold sweat dripped between my shoulder blades as I contemplated the meaning behind both phrases. Then the wudgie next to me spasmed, head jerking from side to side as she resumed her struggles.

Clearly, now was not the best time to ruminate.

The problem was, I still didn't know what to do. 'May my will join yours' sounded all dramatic and cool, but it didn't give me any levers to pull or buttons to push. My HUD certainly hadn't updated with any neat Latin-activated catch phrases.

With nothing else to go on, I held my hand over the woman's face. A chill slid through my palm as it neared her flesh, growing with increased proximity. "Fuck it," I murmured, covering her face with my hand.

A burst of mana shot from the wudgie and into my palm. With a sensation that could only be described as 'melting honey mixed with electric current,' the energy slid into my body. It flowed as liquid light through veins I didn't know existed, branching and dividing before merging with my core.

The wudgie gasped, jerking upright fast enough to smack my hand aside, looking straight at Telkazorin. Her eyes, now entirely black, were wide as she groaned. "To delay." Each word sounded pulled from the back of her stomach, like they were torn from her.

Dark blood oozed down her nose as she stumbled to the nearest wall. I watched, torn between fascination and concern, as she used the blood to draw a single symbol. It was a swirl, with several lines crossing at various angles along its length. When it was done, the black in her eyes vanished, replaced with blue. She took a single step away from the wall, then collapsed into unconsciousness.

I hurried over, checking the body. The rhythm of her breathing had shifted from the frantic pace of the others to something deeper and more natural. A healthy flush had returned to her cheeks. "Still breathing."

"Yes. My tether has been restored," Telkazorin said, his one eye fixed on the wall. "And this… this is interesting. Let's see what happens when you free the rest, shall we?"

Chapter 48: Messages

The next one I woke was a young-looking wudgie boy. When his eyes opened, he sat up rigidly, his gaze locking with mine. "To serve," he intoned, voice hollow yet purposeful.

He slid from the table with mechanical precision and approached a different section of the wall than the previous one. His small hand swiped beneath his nose, collecting blood, which he used to inscribe another symbol. This one differed from the first—jagged lines and sharp peaks replacing the complex swirl. Something about the angular shape drew me in, compelling my attention.

Around us, the circular chamber remained dim, illuminated only by the pulsing orange glow from the sleeping wudgies' closed eyelids. Their twitching eyes sent surreal shadows across the grooved stone floor, highlighting other ritualistic symbols.

I inhaled sharply, a complex sound rasping into my mouth rather than out.

A discolored hand slapped against my lips as Sharon gasped in pain. Telkazorin, his expression shifting from scholarly curiosity to genuine alarm, hissed through clenched teeth, "Do not use that language in my ritual chamber."

I started to protest, my hand instinctively moving toward my vambrace, but stopped when he tilted my head toward Sharon.

Blood vessels had popped in her eyes, and she'd crashed against the nearest wall, legs buckling beneath her. One hand pressed against her forehead as she struggled to remain conscious.

"What?" I mumbled against the mage's discolored digits.

After a pause to search my face, he withdrew his hand. "That," he pointed at the symbol, "is daemonic script. Mortals are not meant to comprehend it. Your friend has a translation spell active. She'll be lucky if that did not drive her mad or transform her organs into purgation spiders."

Sharon licked her lips, then spat a glob of pulsating, black-streaked yellow phlegm onto the floor. "I'll be fine. I resisted the effect. Give me a second."

She retrieved a flask of water and drank deeply, then withdrew a blue ampule from a pouch, which she crushed against her chest. The familiar burning sensation of System healing magic rippled through the air.

Despite resisting the spell, her recovery took a while. Finally straightening, she met my gaze. "Got enough of a view to know a bit about it."

"Do tell," Telkazorin prompted, fingers tapping together with barely restrained excitement.

She ignored him pointedly. "It's the first word of a spell, and it's been designed specifically for you."

"For me?" I frowned. "But what does it do?"

"Some spells take decades to decode," the mage interjected, circling closer. "You'll probably have to cast it to figure it out. Even then, it's daemonic. You're liable to transform the dirt around us into the physical embodiments of suffering." He paused, eye gleaming. "Still..."

He stepped back, turning his maimed head to study both wall markings. "An old magic spell, apparently intended for me. And a daemonic one, intended for Dean. How utterly fascinating." His gaze returned to me, hungry and calculating. "Dean, you compel my interest. Would you allow me to experiment on you? I suspect we could accomplish great things together."

“You want to wear me like a skin suit,” I replied, seeing through the paper-thin proposition.

He chuckled, the sound filling the chamber. “You have such delightful turns of phrase. I should like to learn all of them.”

"If you're done," I said evenly, "I'm going to wake the rest."

Sharon's voice transmitted as a telepathic whisper, "Are you sure? Anything that intimidates or intrigues this guy can't be good."

"Pretty sure. I've got a feeling," I sent back, moving to another unconscious wudgie.

Each new wudgie I woke contributed to one of the two developing spells, alternating between Telkazorin's old magic incantation and my daemonic script. One by one, they rose, spoke their piece, and marked the walls in blood before collapsing.

Sharon observed my methodical progress, concern etched in her posture. Telkazorin circled the room like a predator, his single eye drinking in every detail, occasionally scribbling notes in a leather-bound journal that had materialized from within his robes.

I considered explaining to Sharon how the Latin phrases created a narrative—how "Per voluntatem tuam fiam" and "Voluntati tuae voluntas mea adhaereat" suggested a relationship of service rather than domination. If the spirit within the Unforged Rod possessed an animal-like intelligence rather than humanoid, its methods of communication would naturally differ from our own.

The wudgies who contributed to my spell consistently said, "To Serve"—never "To Enslave," "To Command," or "To Destroy."

That distinction felt crucial.

Latin was significant. I'd always associated it with demons in Earth mythology. Now that I understood the distinction between 'daemon' and 'demon,' the superior being speaking this ancient language made perfect sense.

Not once had I sensed aggression from the spirit—only loyalty, as Gost had suggested. The growing impression was indeed that of a mildly disobedient yet ultimately faithful companion.

I kept these thoughts to myself, knowing they might sound like the justifications of someone already falling under influence. There were far too many examples in the 'lore' of people saying similar things and ending up possessed.

Clearly, I was not possessed.

I continued my work in silence until only two wudgies remained.

"Mine first," Telkazorin demanded, his attention fixed on his side of the wall.

I shook my head. "Deliver what you promised. I want to know about the other adventurers, and anything you've uncovered about the treasury."

His eye narrowed, jaw tightening as his composure finally cracked. "I am a being whose power is incomprehensible to your tiny minds, yet I have humored you. Weathered insults and the manhandling of my shell, both of which would have led to death on any of a dozen other worlds. And now you intend to demand early payment for an incomplete exchange?"

Finding his outrage too tempting to resist, I adopted my most condescending tone. "Would you prefer to play catch with Sly?"

He blinked, momentary confusion replacing rage. "I'm sorry, Sly?"

"Don't be sorry. And you know Sly. It's my pet rock." I nodded toward the boulder I'd left near the entrance. "He helps me exercise."

Telkazorin inhaled slowly, visibly gathering himself. "As ingratiating as I find your arrogance, I want you to know there will be a day where we cross paths properly."

I turned to face him fully, one hand resting on the table, the other casually positioned above my vambrace. "It's not in my best interest to leave an enemy at my back. Sharon, are you sure I can't kill whatever is behind this shell-thing?"

"Very sure," she replied, stepping forward. "Destroying the shell might make him hunt for a new one. That could take time. But if he's protecting this city..."

Seeing his advantage, the mage's mouth curved into a toothy grin. "Such a difficult spot to be in. Wanting to destroy in one hand. Wanting to preserve in the other. But we can't have it both ways, can we?"

I took a deep, steadying breath, then moved to the bench with the next-to-last wudgie. This one should complete his old magic spell. Leaning down, I whispered in the tossing woman's ear, "Can I get an extra turn? It would be very useful. Consider it a command, if that's what it takes."

Click.

The air around my hand pulsed with cold, as if I'd said something profound.

I glanced around, but neither the mage nor Sharon showed any reaction to the change. Holding my breath, I placed my palm on the wudgie's forehead.

She sat up immediately, her eyes finding mine. "As commanded," she stated with unexpected clarity.

Sliding from the table, she wiped her nose and completed the spell intended for me rather than Telkazorin.

I examined the completed script, the pronunciation of each twisted glyph settling into my mind as puzzle pieces I'd always known. My HUD flashed with new information:

Spell Name Identified: Summon Daemonic Companion

Parasite Insight: This spell is neither System nor old magic, but something distinct. The effect will translate it into System-standard text after you cast it and observe the outcome. All details of the spell, including that you've cast it, will be concealed from the System, replaced with a similar type of companion or familiar.

Warning: Be aware that this type of magic may not behave precisely as translated. Caution is advised.

After absorbing this knowledge, I crossed to the wall and drew my marked hand across the symbols. Where my palm touched, the wudgie's blood sizzled and vanished, leaving no trace behind.

"Guess we can go," I announced to Sharon, turning away from the clean wall.

"Stop," Telkazorin commanded, palm raised. "I see your intent. Fine. We shall navigate a middle ground." With theatrical flourish, he produced six sheets of parchment, each bearing a magically precise image.

Three depicted masked, bulky men in robes. Two showed a blonde woman and a man with facial scars. One portrayed a wudgie so nondescript that I had to force myself to study it long enough to commit the features to memory.

"The masked ones are likely okaku," the mage explained, holding up three fingers. "They will be fighting specialists, with great strength and are nearly impossible to kill. Their species fancies themselves to be merchants, but most lack the wisdom to conduct true business that isn't backed by force. If you intend to strike them directly, I suggest declaring a formal challenge. Their culture adheres to some very...archaic ideas of honor and ceremony."

Sharon tilted her head. "Why are you telling us this?"

With an oily smile, he replied, "Because I figure you already know most of this, so sharing a little extra costs me nothing. Besides which, we are on the same side. Should you preserve this world, it will save me decades in my research."

"How do I challenge them?" I asked.

"Just say the words. Tell them you declare a challenge. The rest will take its natural course."

"Got it. And the other three?"

Sharon approached to inspect the images. "My guess would be clovash."

Telkazorin's eye twinkled as if her observation had earned him a point in some private game. "I suspect you are correct. The two species are rivals, and the System has been using maneuvers to bring them into conflict. In contrast to the okaku, the clovash are insidious, cunning, and subtle. They've used true transformations to mask themselves. Only that knowledge, and awareness of their disguises, is likely to help you in a fight against such dangerous creatures."

"How so?" I asked.

"True transformations mask auras, blood, and many other aspects of a person. But they also impose physical limitations. In their natural forms, clovash are giant serpents with supremely enhanced senses and four arms, all of which they can use with innate fluency. Some can cast multiple spells at once. Others can wield four weapons simultaneously. All backed with tremendous endurance, speed, and raw size. Coupled with the System's enhancements, each of these creatures could threaten this entire city."

"But they have a mission to find the treasury," I concluded. "Which means they are disciplined."

"Just so," he agreed, lips quirking. “The standard clovash group includes at least one assassin and one Valkyrie-type warrior. The remaining one is likely to be some sort of spellcaster.”

Sharon interjected, "And what about the treasury? You know we're looking for it. That must mean you know where it is."

He held his palm up. "Actually, I do not. I arrived in this form after the Protected status was revoked. This shell was my representative in this city, but it had no knowledge of the treasury. I do, however, have certain advantages when it comes to finding it." He gestured at the sleeping wudgies, still on the floor. "Once you complete your side of the deal, I will turn a portion of my agents to that task. After they recover, of course. Consider it a…gesture of good faith."

I had to admire his cleverness, however grudgingly. The bribe of help was the equivalent of pointing out that we’d need him and the wudgies both to accomplish our goal.

"Fine." I moved to the last wudgie and repeated the process.

When the man fell near his master's feet, Telkazorin erupted in delighted laughter. "Oh my, my, my. Now this is going to be useful."

"What is it?" I asked Sharon telepathically.

She replied, "It's listed as Teleportation Barbs in my HUD. Costs a ton of mana, but covers an area with destructive effect that triggers every time someone teleports into it. Lasts a long time, too."

"Wow. That sounds like it'll be useful for us, too. Can you memorize it?"

"Already got it. I’ll need to get to Earth to translate it from old magic, but that's all I need."

Eager to leave, I motioned for her to head toward the door.

Ahem. Telkazorin cleared his throat deliberately.

We paused at the threshold as he spoke. "I want you to know that I see the alterations to the Ach Em Rah configuration. You've given me a spell hard-wired with exceptions for specific individuals."

I turned back, meeting his bright green eye. "And you're telling me this, why?"

"Because I want you to know that I know. I want you to grasp just how capable I truly am, for when our time comes."

With that ominous promise hanging in the air, I collected Sly, and Sharon and I departed the estate. His guards allowed us to pass without incident.

Chapter 49: Simplicity

"When you pulled the mana from the wudgies, did anything happen?" Sharon asked as we made our way from the mansion.

The signs of locals had only decreased since our encounter with Mr. Fingers, leaving the streets nearly bare. It made travel easy, even if I was concerned about standing out. Those 'clovash' creatures didn't sound fun to screw around with.

"No, why?"

"Eh, just curious. Do me a favor. Double check your HUD. Make sure there are no new entries or notes."

I did. One entry read: Your mana is already full; excess has been dismissed.

"There we go," she said, when I passed her the text via her HUD upgrade. "That's why it's happening."

We exited the side road and merged with a main street, where I directed us toward the gate again. I made a rolling gesture with two fingers. "Care to elaborate, Lieutenant Analyst?"

"I was a little worried the orange color meant the type of mana inside you has changed. There's no telling about how such a thing might interact with the System or Parasite Code. But if it's all just mana, and it all filters in through you, it's fine. It's like your friend Gost told you, it all ties in to you, not some new sub-system we need to track."

"Oh, thank goodness," I said sardonically. "With that revelation, my goal of keeping my powers simple has been met."

She side-eyed me. "Simplicity in a complex environment can only get you so far."

"Oh, I don't know. Imagine if I had a thirty-thousand Strength score. I wouldn't even need to cast fist. I could just punch my way through everything."

Snorting, she shook her head. "We'd re-name you 'Black-Hole-Punch Man' and your first swing would obliterate your atoms. Trust me, one trick ponies don't last, even with established adventuring groups. You at least need to be able to stand up for yourself against most of what the System will send against you. That way you're not a liability."

We arrived at the courtyard where we'd first entered. The giant mana gem at the center was half-full of a blue glow, and the ones encircling it had gone dark. A wagon was parked next to it, with a crew of burley humanoid looking creatures working to unload a dark duplicate of the bigger gem.

"Swapping it out to help the front lines," I murmured. "Think we should pump some mana into it to help out?"

"Nope." She hadn’t hesitated in her reply. "We have a mission, and our resources are for that purpose. Now, what are we doing here? Are you still determined to try and intercept an adventurer headed for the city?"

"Eh. Was thinking about upgrading Sly." I wiggled the boulder, tucked under one arm. "And maybe casting my first spell."

Sharon appeared about to point out how dangerous that could be, then shook her head with a slight grimace. "Fine. But we'll take precautions. I'll be at least a hundred feet away, and we should be well-away from the city, just in case. Ten miles should be about right."

With her on board with my idea, we made our way through the gates. The main ones were open to allow the wagon through, and the gate guard barely acknowledged us as we left. I took us on a direct path away from gates, intending to find a spot with big rocks and good terrain to try my spell out.

How much area did I need to be safe? What if it created a portal to another dimension? Was there a radius of destruction I should be aware of? The spell's symbols had given me a general idea of how to cast the ritual, but not every technical detail.

Thinking about the symbols reminded me of what I'd overlooked.

"Sharon, are you okay?" I asked. "You said you were fine, but are you?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Like I said, I resisted the effects." Her voice cracked a little at the end.

Reaching out, I put a hand on her shoulder, gently drawing us both to a halt. Moving in front of her, I searched her face. There was pain there, deep in her bright eyes.

"Sharon. I've got a really high Perception score, remember? I know you're hurt. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Her calm, soldier's façade slid as her lower lip quivered. "There was a second, just a second that I understood that symbol. It hurt, Dean."

"Because of how evil it was?"

She shook her head slightly. "It wasn't evil, it was just for you. Trying to read it was like trying to go to a party that I wasn't invited to. I know what Telkazorin said about insanity and spiders. Maybe he was right. But the feeling I got was...well, it was like being pushed away by a hand covered in thorns."

"But you're fine now?" I said doubtfully. The injury was right there, as visible as if she'd worn a sign.

"Fine? No. Psychological damage doesn't display on the HUD. Not typically, anyway. But I'll be fine. I just need a little time."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Recruit."

That earned a smile. I released my hold on her, and we resumed walking.

Twenty minutes into our casual walk, a group of twenty soldiers, both wudgie and human, came running past. They had a distinct glow around them, one I thought had been put there by Telkazorin. It felt like his work. Malicious and effective, as sharp as a scalpel. It made them even faster than the two of us.

Well, it made them faster than us at a walking pace.

I heard one of them say, "Road's busier than I'd have thought today," as they passed. Other than the comment and moving around us, they didn't bother acknowledging our presence.

Watching them running, Sharon frowned thoughtfully and turned around. Walking backward, she scanned the horizon. "My father owns a deli. Mom takes care of the home, mostly. I've got a couple brothers and a sister, all younger than me. They're in school."

"That's the most infodump way of telling me about your family ever," I said with a chuckle. "What brought that up?"

"I figured maybe it wouldn't hurt to share a little, especially given the circumstance."

"What circumstance?"

"The fact that you seem to be capable of feeling more than one emotion and might actually care." The line was delivered honestly but was tempered with humor. "No offense, Dean, but you don't come across as a people person."

"No offense taken." I waved her apology away, turning to search the road behind us with her. There was no sign of anyone on our tail. A pulse of magic next to me signaled the Analyst was using magic to scour the area, presumably for invisibility magic. "You're not wrong. I've never been very good at people."

I started to elaborate about how I suspected my Attributes might be helping with that but held back. She'd opened up about who she was. It didn't have to be the Dean show all the time.

"I have a hard time picturing you working in a deli."

"Why? I totally rock a hair net."

"You're just so....analyst..."

"And what does an analyst look like exactly?" she challenged, a hint of mischief in her voice.

"I don't know. Someone who calculates probability distributions while ordering coffee?"

"Extra large dark roast with a 73.2% chance of keeping me awake through this meeting."

That got a genuine laugh out of me. Under the early evening glow, the twin moons of this world were beginning to appear, their pale light catching on golden grasses that framed the road.

"What did you do before getting Activated?"

Sharon paused, considering her answer as she looked at a bank of clouds rushing in our direction. "Data scientist. I wanted to help solve big problems in physics. Particle collider stuff."

"That totally tracks. One hundred percent chance I can see you in a lab coat, doing smart things.”

That earned me a muted snort. "How loquacious of you, Dean. Anyway, my dad wanted me to take over the family business. 'Sharon,' he'd say, 'there's honor in feeding people.'" She mimicked a gruff voice with a slight New York accent. "But I was always better with numbers than pastrami. Then the System came, and suddenly being good with numbers meant something different."

A cloud of luminescent insects rose from a nearby patch of tall grass, their tiny bodies pulsing with blue light. They spiraled upward in perfect mathematical patterns, tracing helixes and fractals against the darkening sky.

"Did you get to say goodbye to them before you joined up?" I asked, watching the insects dance.

"Yeah. Briefly. They gave me a twenty-four hour window. Mom cried. Dad made me a triple-decker with extra pickles for the road. One of my brothers tried to set the house on fire in protest."

Laughing, I said, "Sounds like you miss them."

"Every day." She turned back to face our path. "But knowing what I know now? I wouldn't change my choice. I'm where I need to be."

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute, the sounds of alien insects and distant creatures creating an oddly soothing backdrop. I hefted Sly to my other arm, the boulder's weight barely noticeable with my enhanced Strength. "What about you?" Sharon asked after a while. "Still determined to be a one-man apocalypse?"

"Figured I'd lean into my core competency."

"Your core competency being hitting things really hard?"

"I prefer to think of it as 'kinetic problem-solving,'" I replied, deadpan. "Very technical. Very precise."

"I guess that’s better than continuing to call it the other thing." She leaned over, elbowing my side.

Despite the looming danger, the bizarre circumstances, and the very real chance that every choice we made would impact countless lives, there was something weirdly comfortable about this moment. Just two people walking under an alien sky, making our way to potentially unleash an eldritch horror.

As we crested a small hill, a wide clearing opened up before us. It was dotted with interesting rock formations jutting from the earth like ancient teeth. Other than the clouds still darting toward us, there was no sign of anyone around.

"This looks perfect," I said. "Lots of space, good terrain for spell casting, and..." I bent down to examine a jagged, blue-tinged stone about the size of a bowling ball, "potential new friends for Sly."

"Time for some advanced probability mathematics," I said, hefting the blue rock experimentally. It was denser than Sly. “Hrm. That feels right. So, want to check the future and see what the odds are that this spell doesn’t do something awful?”

As soon as I said the words, text flashed into view.

Bonus Quest!

Details: An adventurer has broken through the blockade and is headed to Thanderkand to destroy it. This would interfere with your ongoing quest. You are being offered an opportunity to prevent this.

The adventurer has been given an extreme incentive to kill you. Stop them.

Reward: Loot; experience points; any one upgrade to your Crossroads (based on current availability) or a Base deployment seed.

Through the words, I saw the clouds swirl into a funnel, a shape wearing a cape ejecting from the narrow tip. The person had an arm extended; fingers curled into a fist. As they adjusted, swerving toward me, an aura of brilliant yellow light, like the re-entry cone of a spaceship, flared ahead of them.

Chapter 50: Random Encounter

Sharon called, "I'm counting around seven distinct magical signatures. Strong ones. Look at the eyes. He's going to have a gaze attack. We should probably retreat." Her advice didn’t come across as cowardice as much as practical, which I appreciated.

Appreciated, then dismissed out of hand.

Looking around at the rocks, then at the funnel cloud rapidly approaching, I squinted. The figure within it was moving fast, almost too fast to track. A corona of brilliant yellow light surrounded him as he shot through the air.

"How long until he's within about five hundred feet?" I asked, feeling a surge of anticipation.

"Thirty seconds or so, why?"

"Cast that accuracy spell on me, then back up. Go invisible. Help with tactics, if you see an opportunity." I slid my hand across my vambrace. For days I'd held back. The Churn taunted me. Those masked adventurers flaunted their presence. Even leaving Fingers intact had felt like leaving a cockroach to crawl into my cereal.

Finally, I didn't have to wear a mask.

I summoned the Demolition Orb.

It appeared around my scarred hand as comfortable as a second skin. Three curve-tipped blades projected from the back, extending sixteen inches past my closed fist, the last six inches slightly concave and serrated. Finding the trigger, I manifested a golf ball-sized metal sphere covered in blackened barbs, whirling a fraction of an inch away from the claws.

My HUD updated, showing the new name: Unforged Gauntlet of Demolition.

Sharon's spell took hold, sending a jolt of pain through my head. Thanks to repeated exposure, her accuracy enhancement didn't cost me focus. Holding Sly in my free hand, I watched as Captain Jasteel Burstmeister of the 13th Airborne Assault Unit (Recently Demoted) drew closer.

Backlit against the cloud-streaked sky, the guy looked precisely like a superhero. For whatever reason, that only made me angry.

Pulsing lines of crystalline energy surged from his face, rapidly intensifying. I calculated his velocity, adjusting for my new Strength score. When he came within range, I hurled Sly at him. The System whispered in my ear.

Apocalypse BREAKER is now active.

KA-FWOOOM!

Rock and eyebeams met, sending shrapnel flying. Sly hit with enough force that Jasteel's blast didn't alter its trajectory, only made the bits that struck him smaller and sharper. Several fragments caught his face, sending him off course as he reflexively wiped at his eyes.

Grabbing a chunk of blue rock, I hurled it after Sly. This one hit his arm, further disrupting his flight. He crashed twenty feet away, the impact sending up a plume of dirt. A wave of heat erupted from him, sizzling the air and reddening my skin.

Using the discomfort as fuel, I jumped onto a rock and triggered the sphere, willing it to fly into Jasteel's face. My focus narrowed as I took control of the projectile, my perception following its trajectory.

The adventurer wasn't idle. Already on his feet, he'd smashed a healing item into his face. All signs of injury were gone, and his eyes glowed ominously.

In the instant before my relic struck, I got a look at my opponent. With a fox’s face and features, he had shoulder-length, curly red hair. Even with the animalistic muzzle, the creature’s expression was so arrogant he could have been trying to sell me crypto. His gear was a mismatched collection: yellow cape, tan gloves, bright blue belt, dark purple thigh-high boots. An inventory pouch hung low on his hip, and a glowing broach clasped his cape.

Three defensive walls materialized to block my attack. The spinning blades ignored each barrier, which transformed Jasteel's expression from annoyance to outrage. He crossed his arms just before the sphere struck, saving his face but sacrificing one glove.

The defensive move bought him time to recharge his eyes.

SLAM!

It felt like a mule kicked my head as my connection to the sphere vanished. How had he destroyed my relic?

Sharon's voice came telepathically. "Your relic is inside that magical item as a shell. It's possessing it. The item can be destroyed, even if the Unforged Rod cannot."

During that brief interaction, Jasteel had closed the distance. Moving with stunning speed, the fox-man leaped from one rock to the other. He seemed to gain momentum as he parkoured his way toward me, transforming into a barely-distinct blur. The accuracy spell helped me to track him as he somersaulted over a rock and behind me, ripping off a spin kick that I barely blocked with my gauntlet.

RIIIIP! CLANG!

The sharpened blades sliced through his boot and into his shin, but the power of his kick shoved my arm aside, snapping one blade. It vanished in a puff of orange smoke.

"I’m guessing this guy is around level twenty, maybe higher," Sharon whispered telepathically. "His Grace score has to be nearly two-fifty."

With video game agility, Jasteel rebounded from my defense, whirled around, and delivered a perfect sidekick to my chest. He wasn't as strong as the takaltu, but the precision made the difference negligible.

Ribs creaking, I stumbled as he followed with a twisting leap. Spinning like a tornado, he brought an elbow down on my head, then punched my stomach and chin in rapid succession. His speed and precision far exceeded my reflexes. To make matters worse, with every successful punch, his attacks grew faster.

"Momentum gloves, it looks like. And Pugilism boots, " Sharon warned, speaking rapidly as she analyzed the warrior’s kit. "He’s talented as an infighter and packs plenty of area-effect damage. Be careful, that’s got to be a type of Captain’s cape. Once it recharges, if he gets airborne again, you'll lose the advantage."

Recognizing I didn’t have anywhere near the adventurer’s skill, I went for brute force. Dropping my chin, I charged. He tried dodging with a fancy pirouette, but Sharon's spell gave me the edge I needed. With a clawing motion, I hooked my index finger around his belt.

Jasteel made a confused sound as I used that single digit to reel him in. His reliance on Grace cost him as I drove the two remaining blades toward his chest.

He twisted, executing a flawless maneuver. Arm snapping out, he jammed a claw-tipped thumb directly into my ear.

That didn’t just suck. It sucked on levels beyond sucking. I went deaf in that ear, and my head rang like a gong as dizziness threatened to steal my focus.

Eyes blurring, I forced myself to grin through the damage, embracing it, as both of my blades struck.

Executing his maneuver, while allowing him to land a solid blow, had left foxface open. His jaw dropped, surprise etched on his yellow-eyed face as yellow blood fountained from the wounds in his chest.

“My turn,” I growled in his smug face, yanking the serrated tips down, determined to saw through his sternum.

Despite having six inches of steel in his chest, Jasteel reached for the broach at his throat. The flame aura from earlier sprang to life. My skin reddened instantly. Closing my eyes to protect them from boiling, I sensed Jasteel's gaze attack charging again.

Desperate to avoid that, I secured my hold on his belt and lifted him from the ground. He was surprisingly light, weighing less than Sly.

His eye beams, intended for my face, struck my shoulder instead as I heaved him into the air, then slammed him against one of the blue rocks. He grunted in pain. I enjoyed the sound so much that I did it again, then again.

The aura continued to intensify, and his cheap 2-dollar superhero eye beams went from uncomfortable to distressing. A voice of calm warned the battle-frenzy in me, telling me that if I lost use of the arm, I’d be in trouble.

Eyes still closed, I brought my claws to his throat during the fourth slam, shoving one into the broach. It cracked, the enchantment failing.

He spoke for the first time, voice high-pitched and aristocratic. "Would you stop breaking my things! These cost a fortune!"

With the desperation of a rich man about to lose his Ferrari, he jerked at his belt buckle, loosening it enough to wiggle free. Both it and his inventory pouch came free in my hand as his cape flared with magic. With a burst of speed, he took to the air.

"I don't think so," I said, snapping my eyes open as I jumped with all my strength. My boots, hovering just above the ground, provided perfect lift as I executed a vertical leap nearly twenty feet into the air.

Arms flailing, I caught one hand on Jasteel's remaining boot. Squeezing with bone-crushing force, I hoisted myself up enough to jam both intact gauntlet blades into his lower back.

That earned a satisfying high-pitched scream, followed by ripping cloth. The flying effect stuttered but didn't end. Kicking with his free leg, Jasteel rotated and accelerated our fall, adjusting our trajectory just enough to...

"Dean! Left! ROTATE LEFT!" Sharon's telepathic cry was desperate.

CRACK!

Jasteel had driven me into one of the jagged rocks around the clearing. Twisting at the last moment, I took the blow to the ribs rather than the spine. His knee hammered my opposite side.

Pain ripped through me as skin tore and bones broke. It was like being pinned between two high-speed cars as they collided. I screamed, howling in agony beyond anything I'd known. Between the guy's auras, his eye beams, and now this, I was close to breaking.

A healing item struck my head, exploding in a wash of System magic. Compared to my other pains, this was minor, even as it scrambled my brain. Barely conscious, I felt my arms flailing, one hand latching onto Jasteel's remaining glove, the other jamming blades into his thigh.

Balanced atop me, he tore free of the glove I gripped and began pummeling me. Each punch targeted my regenerating ribs or bounced off my head with precision that kept me dizzy. Between hits, he spat profanities.

"That cape was worth more than your entire fucking life, you pathetic, untrained ditch-digger!"

My HUD flashed with a diagram from Sharon. "Left hand coming for your head in three...two..."

Using her information, I intercepted his punch with a blade.

"Ayyyyyheeeeee!" He squealed, ripping his hand away and falling off me.

Seizing the moment, I rolled after him and landed on top of the screaming adventurer. Through bloodied vision, I saw his eyes widen the instant before I drove my gauntlet into his torso.

It was, without doubt, one of the most satisfying moments of my life. Right up there with getting my first car.

Even with ten inches of relic-sharpened steel in his chest, the asshole still didn’t die.

His hit points kept him alive as I shoved the blades as deep as they'd go. With him pinned, wheezing out screams and punching at my ribs, I snatched up a nearby rock.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

A vivid, sparking joy rippled down my scarred hand and into my chest. I wanted to roar. To shout my defiance at this man, at the System, at the world. I found myself thinking of the Churn, and of the children I knew this creature would kill if he escaped.

The building rage came, washing over me until a corona of brilliant red flashed above my skin.

Jasteel didn’t have the ability to respond, as I’d learned my lesson and wasn’t about to let the slippery little shit up. I beat him and kept beating him.

“By my calculations you’ve done over twelve hundred points of damage and that’s after the healing item,” Sharon commented in my ear. She sounded calm, the embodiment of the officer I’d first encountered during this quest.

I ignored her. Hit points didn’t matter.

Jasteel flailed, slapping a hand against one of his pockets. A rush of mana poured from the area, as his flesh began to knit. No longer screaming, he found his second wind. Clawed hands tore at me. One hand slammed into my groin, and another clawed at my thighs. When that didn’t work, he took up punching my sore ribs.

Wiggling the blades still buried deep in his chest, I drew my other arm back for a better swing. He seized the opportunity, winding an arm around the one pinning him to the ground. Then the bendy little bastard executed some sort of Aikido-style elbow break maneuver.

Pinned down, most of his magical items destroyed, and me atop him, he still had the skill and clarity to snap my elbow.

SPLASH!

Sharon threw another healing item at my back. Then another, as Jasteel brought his other hand against my chest while simultaneously maintaining pressure on my arm, preventing the bone from healing. He arched his hips, using his off-hand and the bucking motion to create a gap. Then he bent nearly in half as he hooked a leg around my throat.

"Glurk," I said, ambidexterity saving me. Grabbing his foot with my free hand, I yanked with all my strength, twisting it backward.

SNAP!

That earned a fresh scream.

"Eye beams!" Sharon warned telepathically. I sensed the power building in Jasteel's regenerating face.

With my scarred hand locked in place, I pretended not to notice. Instead, I grabbed the hand on my chest, wrenching it to the side and twisting as I did. I might not have been as skilled as he was, but I was far from ignorant. The maneuver broke both wrist and elbow in the arm, earning fresh cries of pain right as the eye power peaked.

With determined speed, I released the now-broken arm and grabbed his hair, forcing the gaze attack into the limb locked around my elbow.

Sizzle. Sizzle.

The smell of crisping bacon filled the air as heat nearly seared my arm off. It did completely sever his.

Holding his head in place until the attack ended, I pulled my blades free of his chest, then jammed them home again, and again.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he went still.

The System’s voice told me, "Furious Killer is now active. You have thirty seconds to defeat another before this bonus ends."

Buff Details, Combat Summary, and Inventory Update

Temporary Relic: Unforged Gauntlet of Demolition

Base Damage: 15-30

Time Before Self-Destruction: 77 minutes*

Note: Frequent use will degrade the low-quality magical item currently augmented by the Unforged Relic.

Temporary Properties:

· Extended Range (Sphere Only; 250-foot range, up from 50)

· Added Sharpness (Claws and Sphere)

· Penetrate Magical Defenses (Claws and Sphere)

***

Sharon’s Spell Enhancement: Maximized Accuracy

Details: Your Perception, Mind, and Grace attributes are considered 30% higher when calculating accuracy. If you have any natural skills associated with the use of a ranged weapon, those benefits are increased by up to 10%.

Remaining Duration: 2 minutes 58 seconds

***

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Captain Jasteel Burstmeister of the 13th Airborne Assault Unit (Recently Demoted)

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: 100 hit points

Destroyed Magical Items:

· Jasteel’s boots, brooch, and cape

Damaged Magical Items

· Unforged Gauntlet of Demolition (sphere and one blade destroyed; remaining active time reduced to 55 minutes)

Awards: 18,000 experience points; dropped loot.

***

Adversary Analysis has identified the following loot:

· Momentum Gloves (Grants a 5% stacking speed boost per successful melee attack, up to a maximum of 30%)

· Belt of Charm (Allows the wielder to add 15% of their Grace attribute to attempts to charm the opposite gender)

· Inventory Pouch

· System Healing Salve (Universal) X 4; High Grade (Heals 100 HP)

· Detailed Map of Thanderkand (High-value targets identified)

· Scroll of Displacement (Negates most ranged attacks for 10 seconds) X 3

· Captain’s Signet for the 13th Airborne Assault Unit (related to a Faythen military unit)

***

Quest Reward

You have earned any one upgrade to your Crossroads (based on current availability) or a Base deployment seed. This reward may be claimed at any time while at your Crossroads.

Chapter 51: Missing in Action

The corpse's most recent quest populated in my HUD.

Bonus Quest: A Challenger Appears!

Assigned to: Captain Jasteel Burstmeister of the 13th Airborne Assault Unit

Details: Your quest to demoralize and slaughter Thanderkand's citizens can wait. A rival adventuring party has maneuvered to pit themselves against you. This party consists of a low-level fighter, and a high-level non-combatant. Both are well-equipped but are hardly prepared to withstand someone of your stature.

Kill them both, then resume your previous quest.

Reward: 200,000 credits; upgrades for any 3 of your magical items; proclamation of worthiness to your unit (likely to result in your being reinstated); loot and combat experience

"Dean?" Sharon asked, still invisible and relying on the HUD's enhancement to conceal her voice. "You okay?"

It took me a second to realize I was still kneeling on Jasteel's body. "Yeah. Fine." My face was so covered in fluids that it came out a little bubbly. Taking two of the lesser healing salves out of my inventory pouch, I applied them both as I stood.

The restoratives itched and burned, but I barely noticed.

CRRRRRAAAAACK!

With a sigh of relief, I flexed my arm as the elbow snapped back into place. Holding the gauntlet over the empty vambrace, I dismissed my relic. With that out of the way, I began collecting the listed inventory items off the fallen adventurer's body. "I need a looting power that automatically does this," I muttered, shaking stray bits of gore from a glove.

When I got to the boots, I shook my head. "Sharon, why is all this magical gear so fragile?"

She'd moved nearby and was leaning against a rock, her eyes sliding across text I couldn’t see. "System magical gear is relatively fragile by design. It keeps the economy moving." She glanced up, studying me with calculating eyes. "Also, your functional Strength, depending on how the System applies your traits, is over two hundred. What you're experiencing isn't precisely common."

"Over two hundred? It says one-ninety-six with my class active." Sliding the Momentum Gloves on, I offered Sharon the Belt of Charm. She just glared at me until I put it away.

"You can purchase a detailed HUD update to help with this, but there's nuance in how the System calculates things." She traced a pattern in the air, shifting data around. "If Destructive triggers while you're tearing into magical items, that gives you a sixty-eight-point-six boost to your Strength specifically for damaging them. That rockets you up to two-sixty-four-point-six. Based on how easily you manhandled Jasteel, I'm guessing that's exactly what's happening."

"It was a starter trait," I admitted, wiping my hands on my shirt. It didn't leave either my hands or shirt any cleaner. "Too bad that won't let me wield this hammer. Will it?" I passed her the requirements over the HUD.

She shook her head. "Nope. Limits like that are tied to base stats plus class benefits, usually. You'll need one-seventy-nine total to use that." She scrolled through data with a flick of her fingers. "Another thirty-nine points and the big hammer is yours, assuming you'll even want it by then. Although..." Her eyes darted between points on her HUD. "With all you've accomplished on this quest, I bet we can safely get you four levels once we return to Earth. If you want to max out Strength just to use one non-relic weapon, there you go."

I thought about how devastating Jasteel had been. His pairing of Grace with martial skill had made him damn near impossible to defeat. Without Sharon's strategic application of healing magic and tactical observations, I would have lost that fight. "We'll see. I'm worried that focusing only on Strength will limit me, especially long-term."

"It's a discussion worth having once you're not decorated in someone else's insides."

With the fallen adventurer's gear sorted out, I started walking to the center of the clearing.

"What are you doing?" Sharon asked.

"Casting my first spell. Why?"

"Dean, you just survived one of the most brutal hand-to-hand fights I've ever witnessed. Most people would be in shock. No one takes that kind of damage and just walks away."

I remembered the fox man's expression of surprise at how I'd taken the claw to the ear. "I've always had a different relationship with pain than most people."

"Yes. I'm aware of your pre-Activation psychological profile. But you're still human. How about we take a few hours and head back to the city? You bought the city time. We have time. Maybe refresh yourself with a bath and a massage or something?"

"A massage? From who?" I looked over my shoulder.

As I did, a robed, masked figure strode between two boulders. It was one of the okaku, approaching with deliberate steps. He either didn't notice or didn't care about Sharon, as he walked directly past her.

I shook my head, sweat and blood dripping across my cheeks. Toggling the telepathy off to talk to the newcomer, I said, "I don't suppose you'd consider putting whatever you've got planned on hold? I'm kind of wiped."

That was both true and not true. Mentally, I felt...relaxed, like the fight with Jasteel had eased psychic tension I hadn't been aware of. Physically, I'd returned to full hit points, and it wasn't like anything I'd done had cost mana.

On paper (well, on a HUD), I was as whole as I could be.

But numbers on screens don't tell the whole story. I'd nearly died at least three times during that fight, and I was hungry as hell. On top of both of those, the combination of damage and rapid healing had left me with phantom pains. The repeatedly broken, healed, and re-broken elbow should have hurt like hell, even if it didn't. Ditto with my ribs and ear. It was like my body needed time to catch up with the fact that the trauma was gone.

With a shrugging gesture, the newcomer hurtled both his robe and mask away. The crocodilian man beneath had Marvick's hulking, musclebound build, but with dark green skin covered in symmetrical bone growths. They formed a crown around his forehead and swept down his arms, adding a solid half-inch to his knuckles. He had a mouth full of fangs, long yellowing claws, and vertical pupils.

He was also totally decked out with piercings and magical gear. Hoops of gold, silver, and other materials adorned everything, from his lips to pointy ears, down his sides and across his sternum. He didn't have nipples, but there were piercings across his pectoral tissue.

Other than the jewelry, he had a single piece of articulated armor that stretched from one shoulder down to his hand. It was similar to a gauntlet, but only covered half of the limb, and left the fingers exposed.

Naturally, it, along with many of the piercings, glowed with magic.

I scanned his gear, weighing it against what I'd seen from Jasteel. My gut said his equipment wasn't as powerful, but without Sharon's analysis, I couldn't be certain.

Once he'd come within about fifty feet, my HUD finally labeled the guy. His name was Dalish.

I held a hand up, the other sliding down to my storage pouch. "Wait. What if I challenge you? I heard you people have rules about that, right?"

Dalish laughed. It was a hissing, crass sound that revealed rows of yellowed fangs. "Choko has gone missing. Wahkomb is sick." He enunciated each word with precise diction, evidence he'd had a formal education. "There is no one here to witness whether our combat is honorable or not. Just you and me." He tapped a claw against a brow piercing, the metal giving a faint musical chime. "Besides, one of your level is worth little."

"He's got an analytics spell in a brow piercing?" Sharon said via telepathy, a note of professional interest in her voice.

At thirty feet away, the okaku stopped his steady prowling walk, a contemplative light in his eyes. "However, since you mention challenge, it is proper for you to witness the glory of who shall defeat you, unworthy one."

Without waiting for my reply, the guy started doing weird shit.

Magic flared twice, the first time coating his body in an oily material and the second causing his muscles to stand out even further. Greased up and extra veiny, he dropped into a squat and exhaled, tightening his abdominal muscles until his eight-pack stood out.

Thankfully, he was wearing a cloth wrap around his pelvis, but that barely helped as the guy's maneuvering set his piercings off. They jingled, ringing like bells as he flowed to his feet and extended both arms in a V-shape, pointing and flexing to show off his enhanced physique.

"Oh, fucking hell," I growled, catching on. "You're doing a posing routine? Are you serious?"

He kept it up, flowing from one posture to the next, adding speed as he went. The bodybuilding poses gradually gave way to a martial arts style kata, one involving elaborate punches and kicks. Each flourishing maneuver was well-executed by human standards, yet just as obviously designed to show off the guy's body and make his jewelry clatter.

Compared to the fox guy, Dalish's execution was middling at best. It was still far better than anything I could currently achieve, so I didn't let that observation sway my assessment of his potential.

Sharon's wry voice cut through my growing incredulity. "One-seventy Strength, give or take. One-thirty Grace. Probably one-fifty Toughness. That's going to give him a solid selection of traits, with lots of durability. These guys are known for being tanks. He might be lower level than Jasteel, but he'll have at least as many hit points."

I replied in-kind. "And those magical items?"

"I've identified a dozen. They're mostly limited-use. The materials they're made from are expensive, but the utility is minimal. That arm sleeve of his is going to pump the Strength in that arm by as much as fifty percent. I'd recommend not letting him hit you with that hand once he activates it."

She paused, the silence thoughtful, before adding, "I could always cast invisibility on you, and we could just get out of here?"

“Nah. We have to deal with this guy sooner or later.” I summoned the ring I’d taken from the takaltu from my pouch, palming it. “I have an idea. Let’s see if it works.”

Lifting my voice, I called, "Mr. Ginyu, having seen your greatness, I have a proposal."

The okaku warrior flowed into a forward-facing stance, his arms straight down as he made his muscles dance. His piercings clattered loudly enough to be mistaken for musical instruments. In that posture, I noted that he even had his elbow skin pierced.

"Propose to me," he said, nostrils flaring, oversized teeth flashing with a smug smile.

It was hard to keep a straight face. Somehow, I managed. "You've said that you're not worried about honor, since your companions aren't here to see you, right?" As I spoke, I walked toward him, closing the distance as if we were about to have a friendly conversation.

"There is no honor in what cannot be witnessed," he confirmed, eyes glowing. "Ah! I know what you are going to utter next. You are going to offer me a bribe, aren't you? I shall have you know that this quest is important to the Burning Voice. Killing you and out-racing the filthy clovash egg-stealers who call themselves our cousins is my greatest ambition."

I nearly missed a step. With those few words, Dalish had revealed much about the okaku and clovash culture, and their motivations. Mind racing to process the implications, I tried, "Are you suggesting I can't give you credits or magical items to entice you to work with me against the clovash? Until we find them and kill them, at least?"

He laughed, easing out of his flexed pose as he shook his head. "This would be an excellent idea. Were our enemies monster spawn or another species, I would gladly allow you to buy my services for a time. Before killing you, of course." One of his bone crown points caught the light as he turned, shimmering with an oily iridescence. "But the honor of killing our cousins must be mine."

Lifting his hands, he curled them in front of his chest dramatically. "Those four-armed mutants must be scoured from this world with these two hands of mine. Their experience points will be my reward, and their inventory pouches the feathers in my future nest."

I'd gotten within ten feet, where I came to a stop.

Sharon whispered through our connection, "You can't trust this creature. It's from an inner world guild. To get that far, his people have had to destroy countless lives. He'll have been raised with the System as either god or parent. He'd no more ally with us than he'd cut his own arm off."

I didn't directly reply to her, instead addressing the okaku. "Dalish, you seem like a reasonable fellow. Do you mind answering a question, one adventurer to another?"

He adjusted his stance, arms behind his back as he flexed to spread his back muscles. "One more exchange, then I shall rip the life from your body."

"Yeah. Since I'll be dead anyway, I'm curious. It seems odd that merchants as savvy as yourselves would give valuable mana gems to civilians. What gives?"

"Mana gems," he began to frown, then stopped to laugh. "They aren't real, simple man. The outside is but a shell, and inside each is a low-quality munition. When we trigger them, they will end the lives of many within the city's walls. We would never allow enemies of the great System to survive our presence."

I forced out a laugh to match his. To Sharon, I sent, "Throw a rock behind him. On my signal." Out loud, I said, "Dalish, you truly are devious. May I make a confession to you?"

"Of course, but after that, it’s heart-eating time!" He was smiling as he said it, although I sensed several magical rings beginning to activate as he prepared to act.

"When I first arrived in the city, I was approached by the clovash. If you've been wondering where your brother is, well...I helped them take him. Just as they are about to take you." I tipped my chin toward the rocks over his shoulders. At the same time, I sent the signal. The sound of impact came from the direction I'd indicated. Eyes widening, he growled and spun.

My HUD flashed with text as the System's accented voice murmured, "Apocalypse BREAKER is active."

With a burst of speed, I crossed the last ten feet of distance and tapped the okaku's back, triggering the ring I'd palmed.

A burst of burning magic coursed across my hand an instant before he sank into the rocky soil, vanishing from sight. Looking down at the dark patch indicating where he'd vanished, I crouched, one hand ready.

"That was unexpectedly devious," Sharon said, still from across the clearing.

There was a gentle rumble in the ground next to my feet. I felt, more than heard, the sound of rock crunching. Adjusting my stance, I side-stepped closer to position myself next to where I guessed Dalish would emerge. "What was so unexpected about it?"

THUM! THUM!

A bright pulse of magic came from beneath my feet, followed by miniature earthquakes.

Sharon, eyes narrowing as she studied the ground, replied, "I don't know. I guess I just haven't seen you use deceit or subterfuge. You've said it yourself, haven't you? You prefer to punch things."

A clawed hand burst through the ground. I got a view of several dented piercings and heard a single wheezed breath before extending my hand to tap the finger. Again, the ring pulsed, and again, the okaku vanished.

This time, the sounds of impact came from a slightly different, but still rocky, location.

Rising to my feet, I hurried over to the closest rock formation. Grabbing the largest of the blue-tinted boulders I could carry, I hauled it over to the temporary tomb. No sooner had I arrived than a hand had reappeared.

I slammed the boulder onto it. As expected, Dalish had been prepared for me to repeat the previous maneuver. As the boulder descended, magic surged and he propelled himself upward. His enhanced arm, the one with the magical gear attached, struck the boulder.

CRAAAACK!

The sound of stone and bone exploding filled the clearing. Dalish wheezed out a painful-sounding breath of confusion. Before he could get his head fully clear, while the debris of the broken rock rained on the creature’s blood-streaked head, I bent down and triggered the ring against the top of his head.

He disappeared, once more entombed in stony ground.

"Hmm. If I were in his shoes, I'd probably try digging to the side, or maybe waiting it out," I said to myself, relying on Mana Sensitivity to give me an idea of what was happening beneath the surface. It wasn't sonar, but I did get a distinct impression of his location. "Oh. He’s tunneling. Nice."

Standing, I kept pace with the adventurer, as I replied to Sharon's comment. "Punching things is like chocolate."

"Huh?"

"It's almost always fun. But sometimes you want to try something different." I gestured at the ground. "I was pretty sure this wouldn't work, but it doesn't hurt to experiment." Pausing, I held a hand over my vambrace, summoning the gauntlet again. It felt good to have it in place, even if the missing claw and loss of the sphere galled me.

I made a note to get another Demolition Sphere if it became available later on.

The ground rumbled violently, and I took a step back as Dalish burst from the earth. Covered in debris, with more than half of his piercings ripped free, he was smeared with lime-tinted blood. A glance told me that the repeated burials had done tremendous damage to the guy, as bone growths were torn away and numerous large, oozing wounds covered his body.

Side-stepping around the adventurer, I drove my fist into his back, the tines of the bladed gauntlet grinding against boney protrusions.

He made a sound like, "Ohgnuh?" and took a step. I followed, shoving my fist hard enough to punch through his eight-pack abdomen. When he began to turn, I twisted my fist against his rotation. His spine didn't like that. His legs gave way and he collapsed at my feet, body twitching a few times before going still.

Furious Killer activated. Ignoring the voice, I looked at the body, now covered in mangled, largely destroyed, magical items, and shook my head. "Weenis. Who gets their weenis pierced? And why would you wear all these piercings into a fight? It makes no sense."

Sharon, approaching close enough to cast her analytics spells, asked, "What's a weenis?"

"Elbow skin," I said, putting the Unforged Gauntlet away again and demonstrating on my own body. "It's just weird."

She pointed at a metal hoop, now broken. "That one would have produced a shield against melee attacks. High-grade, too. Maybe the display and piercings were just to lure you in until he could activate that?"

"Maybe." I checked for intact loot and grumbled. My creative approach at dealing with the guy had damaged much of his gear. On top of that, using the loot I could grab required piercings, which I wasn't about to do. I slid Sharon the details. "Want any of these?"

"Actually...yes. Piercings are allowed, as long as they have legitimate combat use."

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Dean Versus Dalish of the Burning Voice Clan

Victor: Dean

Losses: 3 Charges from the Ring of Stone Shielding/Burial

Destroyed Magical Items:

· 11 magical piercings

Awards: 12,000 experience points; dropped loot.

***

Adversary Analysis has identified the following loot:

· Armament of the Okaku Warrior (Three times a day it grants an Okaku a 50% boost to their Strength attribute with one arm for 1 minute; all others who use this receive a 25% boost instead)

· Inventory Pouch (Found in the discarded robes)

· Sword of Freezing Punition (This sword does double damage against cold-sensitive creatures, such as the clovash, and applies a freeze effect)

· Mask of the Merchant (Adds a 20% bonus to any innate mercantile skills)

· “Greater Mana Gems” X 5 (These items appear to be greater mana gems, capable of storing up to 5,000 points of mana each)

Piercings – The following piercings must be properly applied and in place for 8 hours prior to activation. Unless otherwise noted, each may be activated twice per day.

· Analysis (Casts Adversary Analysis on an opponent)

· Regeneration (Casts Regeneration with a 10 minute duration on the wielder; heals 5 hit points per minute)

· Projectile Deflection (Casts Projectile Deflection which lasts 1 minute on the wielder)

· Locate Resource (Casts Locate Resource for food, water, or shelter)

· Extra Glistening (Casts Extra Glistening on the wielder)

· Extra Muscular (Casts Extra Muscular on the wielder)

· Bluff (Casts Bluff on the wielder)

Interlude: Captive

“He is stubborn,” Black-tail said, voice carrying through the forest clearing.

Nearby, a bound and hooded Choko struggled against a variety of restraints. Naked, save for his modesty, the man’s skin was covered in puckered wounds. His piercings, along with his adventuring kit, sat to one side, neatly folded and organized for future use.

Yellow-crest tried to twitch her tail, only to remember that she did not possess one. “How is it that this one has held out so long against one such as you, Black-tail?”

The scar-cheeked man shrugged all four arms. “We were limited in what we could bring. Our ruse requires him to return intact, does it not?” He looked to Brown-eyes, who stood to one side, a pouch held in one hand.

“Thongaku has a germination period of ten days, and the System limits its spread to the first five. We will want to wait until the last possible moment, then infect him without his knowing. After that, he must be allowed to mingle. If the System wills, this doom will spread throughout their holdings.”

“What of Wahkomb or Dalish?” Yellow-crest asked. “Perhaps bringing in another to dismember would loosen tongues?”

Brown-eyes said, “Wahkomb went to the north, exploring rumors the villagers provided. Swamp monsters found him. He survived but has become ill. We could retrieve him, but there might be a risk of infection.”

“No. Let him rot. And Dalish?”

“The last I saw of him, he was still busy collecting rumors. Neither our enemies nor the other adventurers have made any progress on the treasury as far as I can determine.”

“Neither have we,” Black-tail pointed out. “Should we stop trying to break this one and focus on the quest?”

Yellow-crest considered, sharp eyes flicking as she weighed and measured their options. This quest was important, as the rewards would be of personal benefit to her clan, her guild, and her team members. Yet there was a greater priority. If the Burning Voice guild or, better yet, entire okaku holdings fell, it would leave a power vacuum the likes of which had not been seen for at least a generation.

“Stay here and deploy more aggressive questioning,” she said to Brown-eyes. “If we must, we will infect this one sooner rather than risk the quest ending prematurely. I will take Black-tail into the city, where we will attempt to locate the treasury. If morning comes and we have not succeeded, we will remove the city as a safe harbor for our rivals.”

Accepting the change of plans, the trio went into action, with their assassin remaining behind as the other two returned to the city.

Chapter 52: Companion

Sharon and I went over the loot. "Huh. No healing items besides that one piercing??"

"Maybe that's a better alternative to an inventory pouch for these guys?" I looked over at the corpse, contemplating whether any of the piercings the creature had lost in the soil might be worth excavating.

Maybe later, I decided.

"Probably. You're right about it not making sense, but stranger things lurk in the System than pierced crocodiles." She examined the map I'd kept from Jasteel. "Mind if I take this and those explosive mana gems to study? And keep the Analysis and Regeneration piercings?"

"Sure." I passed her the map, which functioned as both a physical object with diagrams of the city and a magical artifact. Sharon took a moment to explain how feeding it mana would activate interactive portions on the holder's HUD.

"They embed countless useful details on these things on some worlds," she added, her voice taking on the patient tone of an instructor. "Remember this when you're on solo quests."

"Good information to have," I agreed, handing her the five Greater Mana Gems as well. Despite Mana Sensitivity allowing me to detect specific types of magic and even locate opponents, the gems seemed relatively mundane, if potent, magical items. There was no hint of their explosive capabilities at all.

With Sharon absorbed in research materials sufficient to occupy her attention, I made my way to the clearing's center. "I'm going to try casting the spell," I warned, deactivating the telepathic toggle in my HUD.

She stored everything in her inventory pouch, then retreated behind a spike of rock. "Okay. If you're certain about this, I'm ready."

I paused, searching inward for any flicker of hesitation. None surfaced. Instead, anticipation coursed through me, an eagerness to cast my first genuine spell. Mana Sensitivity offered theoretical advantages for any mana-based endeavor, potentially my greatest asset. Yet I'd never channeled a single incantation.

The time had come to wield that potential.

On my HUD's Known Spells tab, there was a new section labeled Parasite Encrypted. Beneath that was Summon Daemonic Companion. The full details of the spell remained obscured, listed only as Waiting for first casting.

With no mentor and only instinct as my guide, I inhaled deeply, using the sound to create the first word.

A sound like the creaking breath of a haunted forest filled the air. My palm itched, fingers flexing, as the area around me darkened subtly. I felt two pairs of invisible hands sliding across my body, ephemeral and ghostly, one set settled on my forehead and another at my chest. Where the fingers made contact, there was a sharp, pleasant tingle.

I exhaled, forcing the second word out. It was the sound of a dying sun, a wailing of hopelessness and loss. Lifting my hand, I clenched my fingers. At the same time, the gripping sensation on my forehead drew its fingers apart.

My HUD flickered, Parasite code bleeding burnt orange, staining my vision.

You have activated Daemonic Insight.

Details: Your ability to perceive reality has expanded beyond the System’s ability to process. With this has come a significant measure of mental protection. Interacting with daemonic forces and entities will no longer threaten your mental state.

Sharon might have screamed something, but I couldn't hear. Understanding dawned, as sharp and clear as a glass razorblade. I began to see the difference between my conception of a demon and a daemon. Awe filled my mind, threatened to drown me in knowledge no mortal should have access to.

I drew breath for the third word, my lungs burning as though I inhaled liquid fire rather than air. My heartbeat faltered, then surged erratically.

Neither daemons nor this spell were inherently malevolent. They existed beyond such limited constructs, fundamentally other. In their timeless perception, any individual life, even that of suns themselves, represented nothing more than a flickering candle. To human understanding, these beings appeared soulless, merciless, and wicked.

But...

They weren't.

They just didn't know any better.

In an infinity of eternities, the being I was now bound to had never been shown mortal hope or the guidance of true, pure affection.

I am not a man of love or faith. Yet I have been shown both of those things; I have been given the gift of both. Gost's words returned to me, reminding me that spells were a working of mana and intention.

With my lungs straining and vision dimming at the edges, I understood what must be done with a clarity that transcended anything in my life. This time, as I began to exhale the next word in the spell, I filled it with my command.

By my will, I will guide you. By my will, I will shape you. Together, we will become a force of change.

The universe paused, leaving time suspended between heartbeats.

A voice thundered through every atom of my existence, resonating beyond mere sound. Arise, Apocalypse BREAKER.

My HUD flickered, confirming my class had activated.

The phantom hands at my chest, motionless until now, pulled apart with deliberate slowness.

You have activated Draconic Insight.

Details: Your ability to perceive magic has expanded, allowing you to discern nuance (such as type, direction, intent) that would normally be impossible to a mortal.

A pillar of fire shot from the heavens, engulfing me. Bathed in gold and emerald light, I felt power beyond comprehension surge through me, as if the System itself, the Unforged Rod, and the draconic taint had converged to elevate me beyond mortal limitations.

Your soul has undergone the first stage of an Elder Trial. Complete two more to experience an Elder Evolution.

Details: The System is unfamiliar with this process and can provide no details.

You have successfully cast Summon Daemonic Companion.

Mana Spent: 200

Status Update: You are Exhausted; You are Mana Drained; You are under the effects of extreme mental fatigue.

The light vanished, plunging me into darkness as my legs buckled. I collapsed onto the unforgiving earth, every cell in my body hollowed out. The world around me blurred into incomprehensibility. Nothing made sense. My head didn't hurt: it was made of pain. This wasn't a migraine, it was the mother of all migraines. I would have screamed in agony, but lacked even the energy to do that.

"Dean!" Sharon called, voice fading as darkness rolled in.

***

It was still light when I came to. Something soft, yet firm was beneath my head, and someone was running their fingers across my forehead. I heard a gentle, urgent yipping coming from nearby and something was nuzzling my boots repeatedly.

Water splashed across my mouth.

"Drink," Sharon said, a note of barely restrained tension in the command. "You’re nearly dehydrated to death."

I drank. At first, it was a sip, then a gulp as I recognized the truth in her words. The water tasted delicious, and the sense of it going down was as rejuvenating as anything I could remember.

Eventually, after three or four flasks, I managed a gravelly whisper. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

I shook my head slowly. "Bits and pieces. Just bits and pieces. Nothing makes much sense."

The fingers on my forehead paused as I spoke, then resumed once I was done. "You cast your spell and the whole area went dark. Then there was a pulse of light. At first, it looked like it was pushing the darkness back, fighting it. You shouted something I couldn't understand, and the darkness and light kind of...merged somehow. That was when the other adventurers’ bodies vanished and he showed up."

"He?" I attempted to lift my head. The worst of the agony had receded, but phantom echoes lingered, threatening to return. Sharon lent an arm, and I finally managed to sit upright.

Standing at my feet, no larger than an oversized house cat, was a dinosaur. His body displayed a striking blend of red and orange feathers layered amongst a thick coat of fur. A prehensile tail nearly three times his length extended behind him, totally out of proportion with anything nature was likely to engineer. Each of his four limbs ended in dexterous, primate-like hands tipped with comically oversized claws. His head formed an arrow-like shape, more avian than feline, yet was fleshy enough to narrowly be defined as 'cute' instead of merely 'scary as hell'.

Looking at him, I realized that I could sort of...feel the creature.

"I did it," I said, grinning despite feeling like I'd been run over.

"Yes. You did." Sharon's voice carried a tremor I'd never heard before. "Though I'm uncertain precisely what you've accomplished. When I approached to tend to you, he was already here, nuzzling your chest and looking at your face. He wouldn’t let me touch you until I talked to him about it."

"So he comprehends communication. That's promising."

"Perhaps. Or maybe it was tone." Sharon's admission carried enough apprehension to draw my attention from the creature to her face.

Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks streaked with dried tears she hadn't bothered to wipe away.

"Sharon?" I asked, alarmed. "What else happened?"

"You nearly died," she replied, not meeting my gaze. "When I reached you, you had no heartbeat. I used a healing potion, then had to beat your chest for nearly a minute before you came to."

"Huh. Maybe casting forbidden, unknowable spells isn't the best choice," I quipped, or tried to.

She didn't seem to get the joke.

THWAK!

Her fist hit my shoulder. It nearly knocked me over. "I think it's safe to say that you should hold off casting any other spells your relic tries to give you. If this is what success looks like, I can't imagine failure."

The dinosaur opened his mouth, revealing rows of crocodilian teeth. "RAWR!" His tinny, high-pitched voice had a vibrato that was entirely incongruous with the tone, like if crashing cymbals had the same chest-thudding kick as deep bass.

I blinked at the creature, opening and closing my mouth in bewilderment. "Did you just say the word 'rawr' instead of actually roaring?"

He returned my look with a slow, feline blink of affection. "PURR!"

"He just said 'purr', too," Sharon pointed out. "Maybe your familiar is broken."

"Companion," I corrected reflexively. "The spell was to summon a companion, not a familiar. There's probably a distinction." Struggling to bend forward, I offered him a hand. "C'mere boy. I guess I need to name you, don't I?"

"Meep!" He rushed closer, accepting my hand across feathers and fur. The little creature had a warm body, yet his nature radiated an aura of cold that left my fingertips tingling pleasantly. In any other circumstances, I might have called that strange.

"Purr! Purr!" he said, leaning against me firmly. For all that he was tiny, he seemed disproportionately strong. Either that, or I was incredibly weak.

With a laugh, I looked around. Several hours had passed since we'd arrived, and it was getting close to late evening. Fortunately, there was no sign of either adventurers or monsters. "Maybe we should go back to town."

"I'd say so. My analytics spell says you're going to need at least a full day to recover."

"Feels about right," I agreed. "Help me stand?"

She did. I nearly fell, but the dinosaur came over, wrapping his long tail around my thigh to offer support. It shouldn't have worked, but it did.

"He's really strong," I commented, resisting the urge to lean down and pet him. The bond I had with the creature was strange, one that I couldn't begin to define as anything other than: right.

"You almost gave your life summoning him. I'd hope the tiny guy was worth it." Sharon didn't sound convinced.

With her shoulder under my arm, we made our way across the clearing. We paused long enough for me to collect a new pet rock that I named 'Balboa', and began our slow trek home.

Given my condition, Balboa slowed us down quite a bit. That was fine. It gave me more time to ponder a name for my new pet dinosaur.

Character Update

Note: Dean has awakened two abilities that technically belong to an “uncategorized” area (Draconic Insight and Daemonic Insight); for the sake of simplicity, we’re categorizing them as specialty traits.

Specialty Traits Gained

Daemonic Insight

Details: Your ability to perceive reality has expanded beyond the System’s ability to process. With this has come a significant measure of mental protection. Interacting with daemonic forces and entities will no longer threaten your mental state.

Draconic Insight

Details: Your ability to perceive magic has expanded, allowing you to discern nuance (such as type, direction, intent) that would normally be impossible to a mortal.

Achievement

First Elder Trial Completed: Additional details will require research and time.

Chapter 53: Phenomenal Cosmic Power

We got back to Thanderkand late in the evening, and without incident. The guards at the gate allowed us through without questioning our new companion or my appearance. The city had undergone a palpable shift since our departure - what had been bustling streets now lay eerily vacant, with only occasional patrols of armed soldiers hurrying past shuttered storefronts.

For his part, my companion was mostly well-behaved. He investigated everything around him, pivoting this way and that, twisting and bobbing his head as he studied the world, but didn't leave my general vicinity.

We found a cluster of dirty wudgies carrying pickaxes near the hotel. They looked harried and wounded but were so occupied in their discussion that they ignored us entirely.

"Three more days at best," one of them said. "The stores won't last longer than that. Even with rationing, we're running through provisions twice as fast as expected."

"What about reinforcements from Brightwater?" a second, slightly cleaner, wudgie asked.

The first speaker shook his head solemnly. “No word for hours. Could be more of those damned System invaders got there. It’s the end times, I tell ye.”

Another spoke up, “Maybe we should abandon the project? Retreat or evacuate with the others?”

Several wudgies grumbled denials, shifting their hands to pickaxes and fully laden backpacks. “Not a chance,” the leader said. “We’ve sacrificed too much to turn back now.”

Sharon and I exchanged glances. I considered lingering to ask questions, but given my current state decided against it. My companion silently agreed.

Taking the guest entrance, we returned to our room. In the enclosed space, the dinosaur seemed far more extroverted. He moved around, studying everything from shoes and wardrobe to furniture with a fixed focus.

"You bathe first," Sharon insisted. "Just scrub up when you're done, so I'm not soaking in scab soup."

The dinosaur looked over, eyes shining. "Scabs!"

I couldn't help but laugh at his high-pitched voice echoing her. "Sure. Happy to." Moving around the privacy screen, I pushed both magical symbols for the 'just right' temperature. The water came out boiling hot, which suited my mood.

Disrobing a few seconds later, I got into the tub. No sooner had I begun to settle than the sounds of claws clicking on the floorboards preceded a squealed, "SCABS!" followed by a leap over the privacy screen and into the tub.

The little guy was dense as hell, and water went everywhere.

"Hey!" I protested. "Are you even aquatic?"

Diving beneath the water, he emerged smoothly, tail settling on top of the water's surface. A pair of dark spots on his forehead opening and closing like nostrils as he floated effortlessly in what little space there was.

"Huh. I guess you are. I need to get clean. Don't do anything odd, okay?"

"Scabs!" he burbled, bubbles bursting as he shouted into the water.

Sharon called, "Isn't it strange having that thing in there with you?"

I considered her question as I grabbed a washcloth and began scrubbing my skin clear of gore. He floated over to help, clawing and biting at the mess. At first, I was worried he'd accidentally maim me, but the little guy took such care that I barely noticed the few slight scrapes or nibbles. I ignored the chomping, joyful sounds he made as he turned the process into meal time.

"A little," I replied, still washing. In just a few seconds, the water had turned dark red. "We had cats when I was growing up though, so I'm used to animals that don't have a sense of personal space."

"Cats are assholes."

"Cuddly, adorable assholes," I agreed. "Hey. He's sort of vaguely mango colored. What if I name him Mango?"

The dinosaur's eyes brightened, head peeking out of the water. "Cheep?" He both said the word and made the chirping sound this time.

"Eh," Sharon replied. "It feels like he should have a proper name, doesn't it? I mean, you summoned him using the sort of eldritch spell that would drive people insane. Mango seems a little...childish. If you want to go in that direction, how about Mongo?"

I frowned, shaking my head. "No way. Mongo sounds like bongo. Rex? Or Rexxy?"

"Maybe. How about Nugget?"

"You can't see through this screen, but I'm glaring at you. Calling a dinosaur nugget is ridiculous and totally doesn't fit my uber serious motif."

She snorted at that, then rattled off several other suggestions.

We bantered back and forth for many minutes. If the creature had an opinion on the matter, he didn't respond more or less to any of the options. Half an hour later, I was ready to give up the tub, although I paused long enough to use a scrub brush and soap to clean the interior. I even threw some towels down to soak up the splashed water.

Because I’m just that civilized.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I moved into the main area as Sharon slid past, her shoulder brushing my chest. We'd grown comfortable enough that I thought nothing of the casual contact. In my mind, the relationship Sharon and I were developing was closer than standard co-workers; friendly, but still professional.

"Why don't you check out the spell details?" She said, the sounds of clothes rustling carrying through the room as she disrobed. "It could be that they will give you a better idea of what to name him."

"That's a good idea." Dressing, I lay on my bed and pulled the entry up on my HUD. The dinosaur said, "Murr," and leaped up, curling between my thighs. He immediately began producing that distinctly un-dinosaur purring sound.

Dinosaurs didn't purr, did they?

The description of the spell was long and far more complicated and detailed than I expected. Skimming it the first time, I said, "It says it's not actually a spell but a one-time ritual. According to this, now that I’ve summoned him, we’re bonded permanently."

"Sounds similar to a familiar," she replied, splashing around as she bathed.

"Yeah. Says here I could have set a limit on how much of my life essence I wanted to invest in the casting. Since I didn't, it could have drained me to death." I frowned at my HUD. "Would have been nice to know that in advance, don't you think?"

The inert magical construct did not reply.

I went over the rest of the text with her, passing her relevant sections when she asked more technical questions. "Seems the Unforged Rod and my companion can interact." I brightened at a line of text suggesting it might be possible for the summoned creature to empower or repair artifacts the rod inhabited. "It says if I feed him enough, the little guy will grow. He might even be able to help restore the Demolition Sphere."

"That's a lot of power in such a tiny being," she commented, walking from behind the privacy screen. Like me, she'd wound a towel around herself, and her fake red hair hung limp against pale shoulders.

I hesitated, momentarily distracted by the sight of taut, athletic curves packed in her spare frame, before deliberately looking away. She grabbed a change of clothes from an inventory pouch, then vanished behind the screen again.

"Power in a tiny space," I mused, reaching down to slide my fingers across his sloped forehead. "I know! Robin. Like the actor. He was in Aladdin, and that kind of fits, right? This little guy has a lot of power in a tiny little body."

"Tiny for now," Sharon quipped. "Remember the whole 'eat tons of stuff and grow' section of that description. Also, how is he so strong and that small? Screw physics and all biological laws, right?"

"He is a daemon," I reminded her, looking down into a pair of orange-red eyes. "What do you think, boy? Robin?"

He slow-blinked at me, leaning into my touch. I got the strange impression that he was contemplating the offer far more deeply than his display let on.

After several seconds, he opened his jaws in a yawning, toothy smile.

I took that as acceptance.

Dressed, Sharon perched on her bed, the map and mana gems arrayed before her. She had two new earrings in, one in each ear. Seeing them, I couldn’t help but suppress a laugh, knowing they’d been body piercings for the okaku warrior I’d defeated earlier. I decided to let her work, instead embracing the fullness of my utter exhaustion.

My sleep was filled with purring, a pleasant mixture of warmth and cold, and half-remembered dreams. When I woke, Robin was curled up beneath one arm, his head nestled in my armpit.

Studying the creature, I tried to get a feeling for the new bond. Flickers of memory surfaced, reminding me of how it had felt to summon him. At first, it had been like reaching into an unknowable abyss, like I'd had to submerge fundamental parts of myself into an impossibly vast ocean.

I'd been both fisherman and bait.

After that, things were messy. The spirit had come, and I'd been granted a glimpse into its mind. I didn't remember any of that, other than confusing flickers. Then, I'd called it to heel. Once it had accepted, there'd been a moment while it took me in, learning about who had summoned it.

Maybe Zetoliath had helped guide me. Or maybe the spell itself had done the work. However it had happened, I and this little creature had come to understand each other before it had passed through the wall between worlds.

When I looked at Robin, I got the impression that the embodied bit of spirit was, in many ways, as limited as I was. It was subject to the influence of magic (albeit, resistant as hell), and to time itself.

Yet it was not entirely diminished. Similar to the entity inside the Unforged Rod, there was something greater about him. Just as there was more to our connection than could be defined or described on the HUD.

"You remind me of one of my cats," I said to the slumbering dinosaur. It stirred, lifting its head and opening its jaws.

"Purr. Rawr. Purr." Then it licked its lips.

"Hungry?"

"Rawr. Rawr. Purr. Hungry."

I eyed him. "Did you just say 'hungry'? Can you talk properly?"

He gave me a slow-blink, followed by a grin. "Rawr. Purr."

Across the room, Sharon stirred beneath her blanket. Sitting up, she yawned and wiped at her face. "Maybe he's like a parrot. He echoes words until he learns their meaning?"

"Maybe," I repeated.

"Maybe. Rawr. Maybe," Robin echoed. Placing a dexterous paw against my chest, he heaved himself to his feet, then leaped casually across the room to headbutt Sharon's chest. "Purr. Pets. Purr."

Laughing, she accepted the odd animal's request, running her fingers across his back and sides. Stroking beneath his feathers, she drew her nails across the fur that lined most of his body. He fell over, legs in the air, kicking delightedly as she kept working.

"You said you had cats?" she asked as she attended the demanding dino.

"Mhm. He behaves a lot like they did. Waffles loved to sleep with his head on my shoulder, just like Robin did last night."

"Interesting." Stretching one arm and yawning, she asked, "How do you feel?"

"Run over," I admitted. "I wouldn't mind another day or two of rest and recovery, if we can manage."

She looked me over, then cast a spell with one hand and studied the results. "Probabilities are in our favor for taking a few days to find the treasury. Anything after five and things go parabolic. If you're really that drained, we can probably use today to plan and regroup. Plus, it might give Mr. Fingers time to round up some of that intelligence he owes us."

"Mr. Fingers, not Telkazorin?"

"Which name is more fun to make puns with?"

"Too true."

She rose, earning a disgruntled, "Nuuuu," sound from the dinosaur, who remained where she'd been, all four limbs in the air. Tilting his head around, he watched her back as she crossed the room to offer me the map. "I've found a few things of note, but before we discuss it, why don't you take a look? I'll get back to this explosives problem."

Grateful for something cerebral to do for once, I took the paper. It was System built, which meant it felt like holding low grit sandpaper. Unfolding it, I saw a recent, highly detailed map of the city and immediate surroundings.

Summon Daemon Companion (Ritual Details)

Summary: This "spell" is a one-time ritual. Further castings will have no benefits/effect. During it, you attempt to draw on daemonic power, pulling it into your current reality. The nature of that power, including its personality, appearance, and abilities, is based on several elements. These include (but are not limited to), your intent and personality, the surroundings, both previous and future events, and available mana. However, see Risks.

Risks: When casting this ritual, you may choose how much of yourself/your life essence to donate to the process. If you do not provide a limitation, the summoned creature will reach its maximum possible potential (given environmental constraints) but may cost you your life. Furthermore, daemons have a default personality that may be incompatible with your ultimate goals. If you wish to shape the daemon's intellect and attitudes, you must provide guidance. Doing so may cause extreme mental and spiritual fatigue. One does not impose one's will on timeless entities (no matter how tiny) lightly.

Scaling Growth: While manifested, your companion is the ultimate garbage disposal. Anything invested with mana has the potential to empower it. Qualifying objects include defeated adventurers and magical items, both System and old magic. Due to your evolution trait, your companion won't just get bigger: it will evolve.

Evolutions grant the companion a chance to gain new abilities related to the consumed nutrients. They may also alter its shape, size, and other features. Feed it the right/wrong thing and it could develop personality quirks, too. Consider these a fun "side" bonus.

The main downside to growth is that in (nearly) all cases, the creature will gain mass. He's adorable now but wait until he's a 20-ton colossus of squeaky fun.

This is a Scaling property, meaning that it adjusts based on your current level and the relative magical potency or quality/level of consumed materials. If your familiar consumes a level 15 adventurer while you are level 6, it will have significantly greater proportional benefits than if you were level 15 or 20.

Binding and Death: Your daemonic companion has physical form, but its nature is fundamentally spiritual. If it is destroyed, you will suffer psychic backlash, but you may re-summon it without casting this ritual again -- it'll cost 200 mana and the time to re-cast the ritual.

Event Reset: The base version of your companion resets fully between Events, although there is no psychic trauma associated with this. It must be re-summoned at the beginning of each event, where it will take on new local properties. Note: Special magical items and/or quests may allow some upgrades to persist between Events.

Healing and Recovery: Your companion heals at half of your base speed, relative to the local environment. Feeding it can accelerate that process by a percentage based on the difference between your current level and the effective level of any consumed material.

Lack of Vulnerabilities: Your companion's biology and anatomy aren't native to any actual world. They are pulled from your conscious and subconscious mind, then fused with what's locally available. It is not vulnerable to critical attacks, diseases, poisons, curses, or anything else. As you have already noted, it's not a 'demon' -- so there's no holy equivalent of damage that can wreck its hit points.

Storage and Re-summoning: If your companion was a familiar, you'd be able to dismiss and re-summon him. Unfortunately, that's just not the case with this guy, with one exception (see below).

Long Range Teleportation: During any long-range teleportation (including moving from world to world), your companion will merge with you and must be re-summoned for the same mana as the initial ritual (currently: 200). It will return with all adaptations and evolutions unless the teleportation takes place at the end of an Event.

Familiar Versus Companion: A companion is not a familiar, although the spiritual bond is similar. As the name suggests, your companion will have a temperament, attitude, and capabilities that complement your own. By default, you will not share senses, mana, or other properties with the companion. There are far fewer limitations on the companion than a familiar, however. It can travel an unlimited distance from you and can behave with a level of independence that may or may not be ideal.

Ties to the Unforged Rod: Your companion has a number of unique properties, chief among them are its ties to the Unforged Rod. While the rod remains unattuned, the spirit within the rod and your companion may communicate. Warning: Although both your companion and bound spirit are aligned to act on your behalf, that does not preclude a degree of "oopsie naughtiness."

Theoretical Abilities: The Unforged Rod and your companion may interact in ways that generate synergistic events. For example, there is a chance that your companion, after consuming enough material, could help restore or even amplify magical items possessed by the Unforged Rod; however, such an interaction should be tested thoroughly, and in controlled circumstances.

Physical Abilities: Your companion has attributes derived from yours and the local environment in which it is embodied. Each time it is summoned, there is a chance it will take on a new appearance and properties based on any nearby biomass it absorbs. The attributes below are based on its current manifestation. Be sure to read Scaling Growth before you get wild ideas.

Current Attributes

Hit Points – 75

Mana – 50

Strength – 140

Toughness – 110

Grace – 130

Focus – 15

Mind – 18

Perception – 180

Attunement – 400 (Your companion is functionally immune to most negative spell effects)

Special Abilities: Your current companion has several abilities related to how/when/where he was summoned. These include:

● Aquatic Adaptation

● Hardened Scales/Claws

● Significantly Enhanced Physical Attributes

● Parkour Mastery

● Predatory Senses

● Dexterous Digits

● Diamond-Sharp Claws and Teeth

● Prehensile Tongue and Tail

● Daemonic Nature

Interlude: System Champion

Senior Expansion Monitor Abethar, your attention is required.

The thick, worm-like form of Abethar stirred in his expensive, high-quality comfort lounge. One of the most successful and wealthy of all the monitors in his sector, he indulged in only the finest things. Activating a telekinetic band, he drew a flaming brand of Succor Smoke to his tubular mouth and inhaled.

“I am here,” he replied in a slow, musical cadence.

His System information appeared on a screen next to him.

Name: Abethar Tsutalatan

Species: Tuulol (Dirt-based invertebrate species)

Class: Senior Expansion Monitor

Level: 150

Administrative Credits Available: 27

System Assignment Classification: Overseer of Protected Worlds

Current Quests: N/A

Current Assignment: Attend events on 711721

Grasping the System’s intent, he slime-crawled his way from his lounge to his personal work area. Only seven screens occupied the space, each belonging to one of the rare worlds granted Protected status. A cursory review, helped along with a few liberal applications of his unique class abilities, gave him the details.

“One of the most wanted has appeared in opposition. Is this an opportunity?”

An opportunity to capture at least one, if not two. We want that world, Senior Expansion Monitor. You will act.

Quest: Capture 711721 or the wanted entity known as Telkazorin.

Reward: 21,000 Administrative Credits

The size of the reward was enough to make Abethar ooze anticipatory musk. It filled the chamber, pungent and tangy.

“I will not fail you.”

Options appeared below the quest.

711721 Action List

Deploy a full team of guild-level adventurers [Cost: 521 Administrative Credits]

Deploy a custom Champion [Cost: 300 Administrative Credits for the standard 3-enhancement package]

“But either option will put me into debt,” he protested, looking over at his chair and thinking of all the pleasure devices he’d lose if he forfeited his position.

The System did not reply.

With a worried, unhappy sound, the Senior Expansion Monitor turned his attention to the world, studying what was happening. He’d need the details if he was going to build a custom champion.

Chapter 54: Maps and Mansions

Following Sharon's suggestion, I used my HUD to pour thirty mana into the map. Compared to summoning Robin, this process was mechanical and distant.

The mana flowed from my core through invisible channels, seeping into the parchment. As the energy transferred, the map responded with an unpleasant warmth against my fingertips, its surface rippling before settling into a three-dimensional projection.

The detailed display expanded to fill my vision, transforming into a miniature version of Thanderkand that hovered before me. Buildings cast tiny shadows across cobblestone streets while magical auras pulsed around key structures. I could even make out the glow of enchantments woven into the city's defensive walls. The tactile sensation of manipulating the map reminded me of dipping my hands into water—resistance without substance, presence without weight.

Robin leaped onto my shoulder, his claws carefully gripping my shirt without puncturing it. He peered at the projection, head tilting sideways as he studied the miniature city with obvious fascination.

"See anything interesting?" Sharon asked, not looking up from her gem analysis.

I nodded, spotting the label on the mercantile street: "Royal Road." Amused by the name, I continued exploring the projection, discovering marks that highlighted vulnerable strike areas. One mark hovered over a structure labeled "St. Merrin's Orphanage." Another identified a school.

Something cold and unfamiliar twisted in my chest. I'd never given much thought to the welfare of children, yet seeing these locations specifically marked as targets unsettled me in ways I couldn't articulate. My fingers hovered over the orphanage marker briefly before I forced myself to continue my survey, the action more deliberate than I intended.

Sharon glanced up, catching the momentary hesitation. She said nothing, but her eyes flicked to the map before returning to her work.

Multiple locations throughout the city were identified as containing potent mana gems worthy of capture or destruction. The entire back section of Thanderkand was earmarked for flyby attacks, with a notation that evacuees and supplies would concentrate there, making it an ideal target.

I zoomed out, trying to get an area view of the city and found a legend hovering just in the periphery of the projection. It was titled "Thanderkand Defensive Assessment." Focusing on it brought up a detailed breakdown:

Thanderkand Defensive Assessment

Overall, the city is guarded by a small force of 300-500 peacekeepers. They are the equivalent of level 3-5 adventurers and unlikely to slow, much less, stop one as accomplished as yourself, Captain Jasteel.

Low Probability Dangers (Historic Origins)

Long before this world was marked for conquest or earned its Protected status, two entities known as Telkazorin and Jasmine built an outpost in this city. Telkazorin is a true power, one that spans multiple worlds. He will not bring his true body to the planet, but he will have agents in place. With the Protected status removed, he will also be able to move a portion of his power here. His vessels will be fragile, but dangerous.

Jasmine's nature and whereabouts are unknown, but she was last believed to be helping a local mage/politician named Stephanos Du Rielka build a cabal of necromancers and biomancers, with the explicit purpose of defying the System.

Stephanos is dead, but with necromancers anything is possible.

Keep your eyes open and focus on destroying the civilian underbelly to ensure quest completion. If you encounter a female of significant old magic power, the recommendation is to attack with overwhelming aggression. No doubt, you shall emerge the victor.

Beyond City Limits

Stick to the designated strike coordinates and you should be fine. If you have to explore or go out of bounds, be aware the area north of the city and east of the ingress point is rife with monster activity.

Time Warning

The System has signaled that it may deploy an advanced measure to the region if the Churn takes longer than expected. If your work takes longer than a few days, complete your quest then hide until the Event ends.

"Sharon?" I asked, looking over at her.

She held a mana gem cupped in one palm, her other hand absently stroking Robin as he'd silently migrated to her lap. "Yeah?"

"This says there are monsters nearby. I've only been deployed twice, but I haven't seen much in the way of what I'd consider a monster. Are they common?"

"Very, although it depends on how you define them."

"How so?"

Setting the gem down carefully, she shifted into full Analyst mode. "The broad definition of a monster is a magically enhanced or created entity that has no natural organic purpose. If you use that definition, they're everywhere. The System produces them to challenge adventurers or directly assault frontier worlds. Some specialized classes can create hordes of these creatures. On frontier worlds, biomancers do the same thing. Remember those kahrons from the quarry?"

"Yeah. Those guys are monsters?"

"Humanoids who transformed themselves into them. They can still be Activated, but the entire species is sub-intelligent by default. It's actually quite sad. They made themselves into servants for the System."

I gestured toward the map, its glow casting shadows across my fingers. "The notes mention that some potential defenders are biomancers. I noticed that Mr. Fingers didn't warn us about any of this, including this Jasmine character."

"He did mention having peers. Remember that until the Protection went down, he wasn't able to send his consciousness here directly. He's been reliant on agents. You'd think he'd know where the treasury is, but if he's being honest, it means his intelligence is limited."

"Right. It's hard to remember we're talking about extreme timelines here."

"That's something you'll need to adjust to," she acknowledged, reaching for another gem.

Returning my attention to the map, I focused on the facts we'd discussed: Stephanos was part of a cabal of necromancers seeking immortality. Where would necromancers live? Cemeteries.

I found one on the north side of the city, then tracked around it, examining the buildings I'd associate with people in positions of power. A few minutes later, I discovered a cluster of large structures. Combining the traits of both mansion and dormitory, the group was labeled "Abandoned Research Facilities."

Zooming in mentally, I discovered a line of blurred green beneath the structures.

Parasite Insights Active. This map has additional details that have been concealed from the intended recipient.

The bright green words appeared and faded as a partial secondary layer revealed itself on the map. It showed a hive of subterranean rooms, including several large chambers. System text over the area read: This area is unmapped due to a lack of infiltration. Recommendation: Avoid at all costs. System reach may be limited in this area. Adventurers may experience interruptions in abilities or a loss of connection resulting in HUD outages.

This was the first time I'd seen anywhere other than Earth where the System wasn't able to simply reach in and do whatever it wanted.

Convinced I'd found something significant, I quickly scanned the rest of the map for similarly hidden or obscure locations. There were several. Apparently, the System couldn't see anything beneath the mayor's mansion either. It made me wonder if our conversations with Mr. Fingers had been recorded.

The other blind spots appeared randomly scattered, with smaller catacombs beneath buildings throughout the city.

Once I was confident in my hypothesis, I said, "Remember how you said that the treasury might be in the city? I think I may have found it."

"Oh? Where?"

She smiled when I explained my logic and methods. "I had the same observations myself. Good job, Recruit. Maybe we'll upgrade your class from First Class Punching Guy to Smashing Analyzer."

Still on his back in her lap, Robin lifted his toothy head and crowed, "Smashing!"

I groaned. How had I not anticipated this outcome? "Think we're good to investigate? The area above is labeled abandoned, and I doubt the locals are going to stop us."

"Probably. But why don't you go downstairs and see if Cherry has any information first? Maybe talking to a few locals can uncover some clues before we rush in. While you're down there, you can ask about the massages, too. Just remember not to pay in advance. I'll handle that."

"You don't have to tell me twice." I was certain that my daemon had used the infected wudgies to help me. However, with my growing understanding of the entity, I was equally confident that any 'help' it provided might be utterly disproportionate and dangerous. Letting it free was basically asking a nuclear bomb with a vaguely sadistic, hyper-protective personality to swat a fly.

That was going to bite me in the ass sooner or later.

I summoned my boots and belt, the transition from standing on the floor to floating only mildly jarring. “Now that we have a map, couldn’t we use your magic to find what we’re looking for?”

She replied, “Same logic as Earth applies here. Anything attached to the System, or within its domain, we’re good to go. Things outside that are fuzzy. It has to do with those limitations Gost told you about. We could use the map, but my predictions would break down at the edges of its reach.”

“You predicted us having downtime for a few days.”

“True, but that’s based on the actions of beings connected to the System. Sure, there’s room for variations and free will and what-not, but I’m way more confident about them than I would be trying to locate the treasury.”

“Okay. Thanks for explaining.”

“No problem. I know it can get murky, especially since there’s so much overlap.”

Curiosity sated, I moved toward the door. Robin made a croaking sound, rolling over with reptilian speed as he climbed to his legs. Without missing a beat, he leaped to my shoulder, tail whipping around my torso and squeezing. His oversized claws crinkled my new shirt (thanks Gost), without quite slicing through the fabric.

"REEE!" he announced, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Fine, you can come. But we're trying to keep a low profile. Don't do anything too outrageous."

"Murr?"

"You know what I said."

"Murr. Hurk."

"Mhm. Thought so."

To get to the main office, I had to first go down the stairs and outside. It was evening again already, and there was almost no sign of anyone moving about. A pair of bright blue eyes appeared in a shadow next to the hotel exit, and one of the possessed wudgies came forward.

Drawing her hood back, the little female said, "Master Telkazorin sends word. Will you receive it?"

I looked into her face, studying the furry creature, knowing what I should say. Instead, I asked, "Are you in there? Whoever you are? Or are you just a slave to his will?"

The girl replied without missing a beat. "I was homeless before Master took me in. Made me better. Now, I serve. His voice makes everything calm. Simple. But I am still in here, yes."

I wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. Something about her situation made me want to engage in enthusiastic, unrelenting, violence. From my shoulder, Robin made a soft clicking sound.

"Tell me what you have to say," I said to her, glancing over at the dinosaur on my shoulder. If it hadn't been clear before, it was now: he could feel my moods.

"The Master has discovered one of the three you seek to destroy in a forest northeast of the city. It is the small one, the one we believe is an assassin. He's been torturing one of the okaku for information about their home world." She slid a hand into the fold of her robe, removing a crude map. "The other two wander. We have overheard them talking about taking their time. Letting something ripen. Neither seems concerned about you or your companion."

"Ripen? That doesn't sound good."

"Master believes there is a significant chance that a larger play is at stake, but we have been unable to gather sufficient information to determine the full scope."

It hurt to acknowledge Telkazorin's aid, but I had to admit he'd done a lot of footwork for us. "Thanks. Any word on the treasury?" I briefly considered telling her what we'd discovered on the map, then decided against it. I couldn’t bring myself to trust someone that overtly evil.

She frowned, eyes going distant. "We know it was a wudgie who discovered its whereabouts, but that's it. The ones responsible for silencing him have either been killed or fled."

"Okay. We'll keep looking then."

"Master says to thank you for dealing with the flying adventurer. He says that he would like to know what spell you cast so far away from his eyes. It was potent enough to draw his full attention, which is quite rare."

I wanted to be surprised at the creature's ability to gather intelligence, but wasn't. If Sharon could use System magic to map out possible futures, who knew what a being as old as this was capable of?

"He can keep wondering," I said. "Now, if there's nothing else, I'm going to see about getting some food."

She smirked, "Master knew you'd deny him. No matter. That will pass, in time." With those optimistic words lingering, she stepped away, vanishing into the shadows.

Robin stared at the spot for several seconds, then abruptly jerked his head around, to another shadow across the alley. His jaws opened, a threatening hiss barely escaping as his digits flexed against my chest.

If I gave the word; hell, if I thought about it, he'd attack. And shadow jumping wouldn't deny my companion's perceptions, even if they would mine. With that revelation, I had my first inkling of why the spell to conjure the creature had nearly killed me. Even better, I saw Robin’s potential to help in battle.

Chapter 55: Massages and Mausoleums

I went to the front entrance and tried the handle. It didn't budge. Frowning, I examined the frame and noticed a wash of cold radiating from inside the wood. Curious how its strength would compare to System magical items, I gave another, harder tug. This time, it rattled.

"One second!" Cherry called, voice carrying through a grill next to the door. "I swear if ye break that ward, I'm goin' to take the charge out of yer beard!"

The door jerked open, revealing the three-foot-tall woman wearing a heavy woolen dress. Her glare immediately softened as she recognized me, "Oh. Sorry. Didn't realize who ye were. What can I do for ye?"

I studied her for a moment before replying. She looked even more exhausted than before. The tufts of hair sprouting from her nose, ears, and face all drooped, visible grime in the strands.

"Maybe next time, you can give us a warning about vampires prowling the streets at night," I replied evenly.

She swallowed audibly, gaze shifting to Robin. "It was already late. Nothin' I could have told ye would have helped. If I had thought ye'd be in danger, I would have said somethin' more specific."

"Uh huh. Can we come inside? I was hoping to ask a few questions. It's been challenging finding locals interested in discussing anything beyond the invasion."

To be fair, Sharon and I had mostly spent our time getting a feel for the city. Approaching random strangers to inquire about forbidden topics was an easy way to provoke unwanted confrontations.

Cherry licked her lips, hesitating. I could see the gears turning behind her eyes. Maybe it was desperation, or perhaps Mr. Fingers had tipped her off. Hell, it could have been the wudgie vampires waiting outside that did it. Whatever the reason, she appeared to be reconsidering who I might be.

I tried for a diplomatic tone. It probably emerged more forcefully than intended. "Miss Cherry, I'm here to help. If you want, I can ask my friend to fill up a few mana gems for you as a donation to the cause."

Robin shifted, claws tightening just enough to draw my attention. I turned, instinctively sensing where he was looking. A shadow parted nearby and a blue-eyed wudgie emerged. This one was male.

He said, "Mr. Fingers would consider it a personal favor if ye were to answer this man's questions. We can vouch for his interest in defendin' the city, whatever his true nature."

I ground my teeth. Having Telkazorin's help not once, but twice that night galled me. That he'd openly insinuated that I might not be who I presented myself as to the hotel's staff only added insult to injury.

"Aye, of course. Thank ye for that clarity." Cherry waved me in. "Come on. Ask yer questions. I dinna want nae trouble."

I eyed the wudgie but entered the building without giving in to my desire to cause mayhem.

Inside, Cherry walked around the desk, putting distance between us as she asked, "What can I help ye with?"

"There are some abandoned buildings on the north side of town. Next to the graveyard. What can you tell me about them?"

Her expression fell further, becoming downright grim. "Haunted is what that place is. Has been for generations. Folk who've gone too close always talk about voices in their heads and shadows movin' in the windows. I hear rumor there’s been disappearances, too."

"Thanks for the warning. If the buildings have been there for hundreds of years, how are they maintained? Magic, I'm assuming?"

"Aye. Important buildings have repair runes carved into their foundations. There's a mana wellspring below this region that keeps everythin' runnin'."

It was a good reminder that this world and these people came from cultures at least as developed as anything on Earth. Probably much more so. Although they lacked advanced technology, their magic created near-parity.

I wondered what the so-called inner worlds must be like; with the System to unify and uplift magical use, what wonders could ancients have accomplished? Or, more appropriately, what horrors?

Reaching up to absently run a finger across Robin's scaly tail, I asked, "Can you tell me anything about what the buildings were used for, or who occupied them?"

She shook her head soberly. "Bad folk, doin' the worst kinds of things. They had tae be to leave such an unholy ruin behind, didn't they?"

"Aren't there records, or lore from when it was occupied?"

"This city has gone through more than one upheaval since that place was occupied. A great fire came through sections a generation ago and cleaned out most of the records."

"Understood. Should I be aware of anything if my companion and I explore up there? Will the city guards be upset with us?"

She snorted weakly. "Time was, yes. Now? No. If ye've got Mr. Fingers on yer side, then ye've got the mayor, too. Can't believe anyone would mess with ye, as long as ye're nae openly causin' carnage."

"And we have no plans to do that," I tried to assure her.

"Plans!" Robin echoed, grinning widely.

She paled slightly, drawing closer to the far wall. "Do ye mind me askin' what is that creature on yer shoulder? Is it dragon-kin or related to their kind?"

I started to say no, when the dinosaur responded ahead of me. "Related! RAWR! CHOMP! GRR!"

His happy, echoing voice nearly made me burst out laughing, especially with the way he said the words instead of making animal sounds. Then I saw Cherry's face. She'd gone from fearful to quivering. Seeing that I wasn't going to improve matters, I thanked her for her help and took my leave.

Only when I was most of the way to our bedroom did I realize I'd forgotten to ask about the massage.

Maybe that was for the best.

***

"Bad news," I announced in my most serious voice when I returned to the room.

Sharon, still studying a mana gem, paused to give me a concerned look. "Oh good. We love that. What is it?"

"I totally forgot to ask for the massages."

Some of the tension eased from her face, only to return as I walked her through what I'd learned, both from the blue-eyed wudgie vampires and from Cherry.

"I'm not too worried about what the clovash are doing in the woods," she said when I finished. "Inner world business is so far outside our scope it might as well be in another dimension. Though I am concerned they've written us off completely. Either they know exactly who we are, or—"

"Or they consider success in this quest a bonus."

"Right, which might be worse," she conceded with a grimace. "There's one bigger problem though."

"Okay, what?"

She pointed to her cape with its shimmering outline. "This fancy fashion statement makes me nearly invulnerable to mundane attacks, but it's about as useful as wet tissue paper against magical or psychic attacks." She tapped her temple with a wry smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "And guess what undead just love to use?"

I blinked at her. "Sharon, there are necromancers and phylacteries. You said it yourself, monsters are common. We're bound to find some undead somewhere, right?"

"Sure, and I'm not saying I'll run screaming from some dusty skeleton," she replied, though her fingers unconsciously fidgeted with the edge of her cape. "But willingly walking into Creepy McHaunted Mansion when we're not even certain it's what we're looking for? That's like purposely splitting the party." She shook her head. "I've run the numbers on these scenarios. They don't end well for the analysts."

"Hold that thought. I just realized what else I forgot." Crossing the room, I used the speaking tube to order us double meals and extra beverages. Cherry promised she'd have a runner up within the hour.

With dinner arranged, I took a seat on the bed I'd been using. Robin, still on my shoulder, was content to remain in place.

I said, "What does that analytical mind of yours tell you? My instinct says that if we've found a connection to the cult who owned the treasury, that's our most promising lead. Unless you'd prefer to wander randomly and hope we find the right riddle to solve to open an invisible door into a mountain?"

Sharon's expression revealed she understood the logic of my argument. Still, she hesitated. "We could wait for Telkazorin to uncover something. Or try our luck with more locals."

"I half expect Telkazorin to use any information we find to launch his own hunt. If he's half the monster I suspect, he'll exploit any latitude to pursue his personal investigation. For all we know, the very reason he possessed that shell might be to find something in the treasury." That last thought hadn't occurred to me until I voiced it, but it felt right.

I wouldn't claim to navigate the same intellectual waters as a world-hopping elder being, and having Robin or the Unforged Rod certainly didn't grant me insights into people's motivations. It didn't require genius to recognize we stood at a confluence of events, caught in a war between beings who operated far beyond our weight class. Worse still, our goal was to position ourselves as a new player. Neither side knew that yet, and we needed to ensure it remained that way as long as possible.

Sharon tucked a strand of illusory hair behind her ear, then flashed a resigned grin. "You realize we're walking into the fantasy equivalent of a house with 'GET OUT' written in blood on the walls, right?" She held up her hand before I could respond. "One thing I’ll point out is that I probably couldn’t be anywhere safer than with you. You’ve got access to several magical weapons and are hitting far above your weight class already. By old world standards, you’re already a one-man tank, if not an army. Honestly, I think we’ll be fine."

Well, there went my idea about her staying behind. Between her ‘split the party’ comment, and pointing out just how ill-equipped for combat she was, I knew better than to suggest leaving her where one of our enemies could just scoop her up.

Giving her my best reassuring look, I said, "Think you can brief me about undead while we wait for our food?"

"Yeah, that won’t be a problem, there are books’ worth of information in here.” Her eyes flicked to the side as she accessed her HUD. “I’ll try to distill it so it’s not quite the week-long infodump of lessons I got on Earth.”

"I appreciate the restraint. My brain can only process so much before eating."

"What, the mighty Dean Williams has limits? I'm shocked." Her teasing tone softened the words. "Don't worry, I'll keep it bite-sized. Pun absolutely intended."

"Bite!" Robin echoed from my shoulder, adjusting his footing to rest his flexible, long neck atop my head. The effect had me wearing his head as a hat, with his glowing orange-red eyes peeking through the illusion's dark hair.

Shaking her head at his antics, Sharon began her summary. "The key distinction is between incorporeal and corporeal undead. Ghosts and specters? You'll probably need magic to even touch them. Zombies and skeletons? They're physically vulnerable but often have properties that make them anywhere between resistant to nearly-impervious to percussive assaults."

“Percussive assaults eh?” I smirked. “Avoiding phrases like ‘Dean, just fist those skellies’ eh?”

“Precisely,” she laughed.

"What about silver, stakes through the heart, that kind of thing?"

"Those work great... sometimes... maybe," she shrugged with exaggerated uncertainty. "Old magic creations follow different rules than System undead. We're on a frontier world where the two intersect, so traditional weaknesses are about as reliable as a carnival fortune teller. Your best bet? Hit them with everything until something works."

"Do any of your spells help us identify possible vulnerabilities?"

She waggled her fingers. "I've got analysis spells that should give us the general idea, though old magic environments tend to make them a bit... interpretive. There’s a purifying light spell I got at a low level. It might be useful.”

"What about Robin's claws? He's a daemon. That must count for something, right?"

At my mention, the dinosaur squeezed my chest with his tail. "Kree."

"That's the wild card in our deck," Sharon admitted, standing and walking over to run her fingers across Robin’s head. He purred in his, “Purr. Purr. Purr!” way. "I can’t begin to predict how he’ll interact with anything, much less ghosts.”

“Oh, good,” I said flatly, not meaning it.

A pair of young wudgies arrived with our dinner—two trays laden with bowls of steaming stew. We ate in relative silence, Sharon still examining the mana gem with one hand while I mentally prepared for what might await us. Despite lingering stiffness, I found myself eager to explore.

It was about time I got a chance to fight monsters and explore ancient ruins.

Chapter 56: Pillar of Pale Light

It was nearing twilight by the time we left the hotel and made our way across town. The map helped navigate side streets, leading us to areas we hadn't seen during our casual tour. Older, larger buildings appeared as we crested a hill to enter a new district. A sign on the metal gate proclaimed it the "Old Ward."

Structures inside were built in a brutalist style with squared edges and exposed concrete-like material. Moving into it felt like walking into this world's version of Russia, albeit with magic. As Cherry suggested, few people roamed about. In contrast to the newer sections of Thanderkand, this area wasn't designed for commerce. We saw no shops or merchants and no guards were around.

"Holy crap, this place is depresso espresso," Sharon said.

"I don't see what's sad about it," I replied. "It's functional. I've never understood why people see squares and rectangles as uncomfortable."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. Why?"

Rolling her eyes, she gestured for us to cross one street, then veer through a narrow alley between two buildings that had the appealing formfactor of bricks. "Humans are made of circles. Squishy ones. Our nature is to prefer rounded things."

Robin perched on my shoulder, the two of us making no sound thanks to my boots' levitation. Sharon moved lightly beside me, easily keeping pace, if not as quietly.

Scanning for anything suspicious, I replied, "This is one of your vague innuendos, isn't it? Something about thighs or hips?"

Her snicker contrasted with the battle readiness trickling from my chest down my arms. Any notion of soreness, of wanting more downtime, evaporated as we progressed.

"No. I was going with pillows, but I like where your head is at." She’d switched to telepathy, and her mental voice sounded tight, the banter forced.

We arrived outside a twelve-foot-tall iron fence framing the sprawling brick building we'd seen on the map. Moving to a chain-locked gate, I peered through the bars, assessing our destination.

It resembled photos of old mental institutions, designed to look unassuming yet likely filled with horrors. Three stories tall, the structure had rows of narrow, tall windows, creating the illusion of a cage.

The ground floor featured a grand entrance about twenty feet from the closed gates. Steep marble steps framed with columns led to gold-embossed doors shaped to resemble birds in flight.

A beam of unnatural white light shone from a second-story window. Robin spotted it first, head lifting with an inquisitive warble. Sharon and I noticed next, seeing the silhouette of a tall, thin creature. A pair of crescent eyes, bright yellow in an absent face, regarded us, then blinked away.

Sharon shuddered. "I hate horror. I didn't sign up for horror. We'd better make this quick."

"It will be," I promised, reaching for the chain binding the gate. My fingers brushed the metal and dark flakes fell away, revealing dull silver. "Sharon, what are the chances this chain is keeping whatever is in here locked away?"

With a quick gesture, she cast an assessment spell. "Higher than you'd like. But if you take the chain with us, odds are equally good that whatever we find won't be as nasty."

The choice was clear: take the easy way and endanger the already-fearful civilians or take the hard way and shoulder the extra risk.

"Up and over," I said, lacing my fingers to make a stirrup. "You first, then I'll follow."

Sharon hesitated, on the brink of arguing, her attention fixed on the chain. With a swift motion, Robin uncoiled from my shoulder and leaped over the fence. The move hadn't been telegraphed and was too sudden for me to protest.

He landed lightly, claws scraping the smooth stones. Head fully extended, he surveyed the area, eyes snapping from window to window, then to the doors. A soft, rattling sound emerged from his throat as his eyes glowed brighter.

"Dean?" Sharon asked. "What's he doing?"

I focused on my connection to the creature, trying to assess his intentions. "I'm new at this whole 'having a companion thing,' but I think he's... some combination of protective and excited."

"Ah. So, just like you. Great. My companions are a pair of sociopaths with a hero complex. What could go wrong?"

"Hey!"

Stepping into my fingers, Sharon bunched her legs and leapt. It took only a little extra lift from me to get her over the fence. She landed relatively lightly, dropping to a knee but otherwise handling the maneuver with ease.

She is over level twenty, I reminded myself as I stepped back and jumped.

Arctic wind caressed my cheeks as I cleared the fence and another eight feet beyond, landing on the balls of my feet. I'd gone nearly halfway to the building's entrance when the doors cracked open and a twisted, dark shape rushed toward me.

It resembled a pile of roots covered in slime, vaguely man-shaped. A black heart, riddled with tumors, pulsed within the branches as it shambled forward, claw-tipped hands extended. According to my HUD, it was called a Lignan-Hearted Fungal Rebirth.

Sliding my hand to my inventory pouch, I summoned the Sword of Freezing Punition. An unfamiliar weight settled into my palm as an ice-covered sword materialized.

I had zero training in broadswords, so my one-handed swing was awkward and ridiculous.

KRRAAAAK!

The ice-covered edge struck the wood nightmare, freezing it in place before shattering it to dark ice shards. Its heart, still thudding, fell to the ground where smoke began billowing from the disembodied flesh.

"Don't inhale!" Sharon warned. "Lots of undead respawn with mist like that."

I stepped back as Robin pounced. Darkness engulfed his body as he bit down on the monstrous flesh.

"Robin!" Concern for my companion momentarily pushed through my desire to find more targets.

A pulse traveled through our bond, followed by the sound of a deep inhalation. The monster's smoke vanished, drawn into Robin's body. The heart disappeared completely.

The System sent a message over my HUD but also recited the words. "Furious Killer will not count for enemies your familiar defeats. Purchase magical items or earn upgrades for him to extend the trait."

“Always another side-quest or way to spend money,” I grumbled, looking toward Sharon.

She tried to force a smile and failed. "Well, that was anticlimactic.”

"Stay close," I instructed. Seeing that my companion might handle this better than the analyst, I added, "Robin, I want you to help protect Sharon, got it?"

"Sharon," he echoed, then made that clicking sound again as his eyes darted to the open doorway. He licked his lips, fangs glistening with ichor. "Hungry."

"Yeah, we're going to eat good today," I reassured him. "Sharon, stay with him, if you can."

"Not a problem."

I felt Robin's urgent desire to rush ahead. My command had focused him, however, and instead of yielding to that instinct, he began prowling around Sharon, patrolling her orbit, head swiveling constantly.

While they positioned themselves, I lifted my sword and pushed the double doors open.

"What in the Great Gatsby is this," I muttered, shocked to see a grand entry straight out of the Roaring 20s. A multi-tier chandelier hung overhead, eerie light reflecting from its gem-studded façade to highlight an opulent room.

The floor featured checkerboard marble, with alternating tiles stamped with gold figures. Art pieces, from flowers to statuary, framed the oval space, interspersed with the native version of couches. Hallways branched east and west, while a wide staircase nestled to one side gave access to a second-story balcony.

As my feet touched the tile, the light filtering through the room took on a greenish tint. My HUD flashed.

System Connection Reduced

Details: This area is resistant to System penetration. Rewards and interactions have been limited to your local HUD only.

Sharon said, "Looks like we'll be safe to talk freely. Be careful, if that connection returns, we won't want to do or say anything to trigger a Monitor."

“Does that mean this area is kind-of what we have on Earth?” I scanned the room, hoping Mana Sensitivity would provide another shortcut. A layer of cold permeated everything, making distinguishing details impossible.

“Basically.”

“Any chance you can install those four levels you said I’d earned? As much as I’m comfortable with milestone-based leveling until I’m level twenty or whatever, it would be nice to have more hit points.”

She thought it over for a second, consulting her HUD. “Technically, yes. I can do that for you even away from Earth.”

I could see she was thinking it through, and remembered the reason why I wasn’t being allowed to gain levels organically for now. Basically, if I leveled up too quickly it could notify a Monitor. Worse, if we let me level up too quickly before I had proper training, the Events the System sent me on would out-scale my ability to adapt.

Coming to a conclusion, she nodded tightly. “Level ten requires fifty-two thousand, three hundred and fifteen experience points. You’ve earned that so far on this Event, so this shouldn’t trigger anything. To be honest, not giving you the levels might cause problems. I’ll go ahead and get it assigned, but we’ll leave off Mana Sensitivity. That trait is so powerful, upgrading it mid-Event might be taking things a little too far.”

Now I was thinking about what level I’d be once we stopped throttling my natural growth. “What level should I be?”

“Keep in mind, that dragon helped you solo a level fifty-plus adventurer and the System awarded you all of it…” She sounded hesitant to tell me.

“And?”

“Level twenty-six. The experience requirements grow pretty rapidly after twenty.”

I whistled, eager to think of what I’d be capable of at that level.

Sharon used her administrative abilities to apply the experience.

My HUD flickered with a mixture of Parasite and regular System messages.

Newly Installed Experience: 52, 316

Total Acquired Experience Points: 216, 768

You are now level 10.

Attribute Points to Assign: 60

Getting the levels was a jolt, but not the distracting infusion the previous ones had been. The process only took a second. “I vote we keep moving while I think about where to assign the points.”

“Sounds good.”

I indicated the area. “I guess first we need to figure out where to go next. Any ideas?”

"Try those dice?"

"Oh. Right." Gost had given me dice to help find the treasury. They might reveal whether it was in this very building.

I reached for my inventory pouch when an unnatural beam of pearly light speared the room thirty feet away. A ten-foot-tall shadow, its silhouette stretched to three times normal human height, flickered into existence. Yellow eyes glowed above a metal crescent grin. My HUD labeled it a Grinning Nightgaunt (Shadow Affinity).

It vanished instantly, along with the pillar of light.

"Murr?" Robin tilted his head, tracking something invisible to me. Sharon remained silent, one hand raised, ready to cast.

"Hold onto your magic," I told her, moving back to guard her. "Robin, show me what you've got. Get that Slender Man lookin' assclown."

Claws peeling slivers from stone, the dinosaur surged forward. His Grace score was moderate compared to someone like Jasteel, but the spirit had embodied a form factor with millions of years of perfection built in. Robin became a red-orange blur, leaping to impact something less than five feet from my face.

I hadn't sensed the monster approaching, but Robin had. He struck the air, seeming to hover for a second before the creature flickered into view. A tattered shadow, its elongated arms revealed Nosferatu-style clawed hands.

Robin's slicing attacks sank into the monster's insubstantial form, tearing jagged holes as he chomped at the upper chest, devouring ghostly cloth. The substance flowed into his mouth like the monster was merely an ambulatory milkshake.

The monster swung, fingertips raking across Robin's sides. He made a high-pitched squeal as feathers and fur parted to reveal thin, white-lined wounds. When it swung again, I stepped forward to intercept.

The attack phased straight through my sword, altering course toward my face. Feeling a spike of alarm, I brought my sword-hand fist between us, realizing too late I couldn't stop this thing.

Shards of icy sensation erupted from my palm as the monster's attack neared the scars left by the Unforged Rod.

Something with the texture of threadbare cotton slid into my hand. Dropping the ineffectual sword, I clenched my fingers around the creature's inner arm. It made a hollow sound as Robin continued mauling its chest. With one hand gripping the thing, I pushed its arm away to make an opening. Off balance, the monster couldn’t recover before I drove my scarred fist into its chest area, just beneath Robin's clawing feet.

A tight, cold ball brushed my fingers as I shoved into the ethereal material. Remembering the tumorous heart of the first creature, I adjusted, worming my hand inside to grasp it. I felt rather than heard its howl as I ripped the meat free.

The monster vanished, leaving me holding something like congealed gauze, invisible to sight. Robin fell, landed lightly, and turned; bright eyes fixed on my prize.

"You earned a treat, didn't you boy?" I examined the gashes along his side. They were thin, the white crust from the monster's claws already fading. Remembering the Parasite code's information about helping him heal, I bent to feed him the invisible heart.

He devoured it eagerly as I turned to check on Sharon.

She stood behind me, staring up the stairs with a distant expression. "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"The music. It's so beautiful. Mozart, I think. My mother used to play that for me..." Her voice drifted as she stepped toward the stairwell.

I followed her gaze but heard nothing.

Robin, finishing his meal, shook himself. His body surged with a red-tinted version of the unnatural light reflecting off the chandelier. My HUD flickered with green Parasite code.

Companion Evolution Attained: Robin has gained a property called Revelation Lantern. This will allow him to reveal incorporeal or invisible foes. Reminder: This evolution will reset if his body is destroyed.

The dark spots on his forehead that had functioned as extra nostrils in the tub shimmered with magic. They transformed into milky white orbs, projecting conical beams like high-powered flashlights across the space ahead.

"That's pretty," Sharon murmured, taking another step toward the stairs. "Can we go listen to the music? I want to hear it. It's just...like...Mozart."

I looked at Robin, who said, "Hungry."

Shaking my head, I retrieved the dropped sword and returned it to my inventory pouch. With the ineffective blade put away, I pointed at Sharon. "Protect her. I'll go first. We'll deal with whatever this distraction is, then hunt for clues about the treasury. We're not going to restore this planet's Protected status if we can't find it."

I spoke as much for any listening ghosts as for the dinosaur, hoping entities might be intelligent enough to realize stopping us was counterproductive.

"Pretty music," Sharon repeated, eyes half-lidded as she took an involuntary step.

"Yeah, yeah. Got it. Let's go."

Moving to the stairs with Robin maintaining his defensive orbit, I couldn't help but worry. What could affect someone of Sharon's level and mental focus?

"This better not be a ghostly orchestra. The first fucker to throw a piano at me gets it."

I didn't know what "it" was. That was okay. Whatever it was, there'd be plenty to go around.

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Lignan-Hearted Fungal Rebirth and Grinning Nightgaunt (Shadow Affinity)

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: Negligible

Awards: 500 experience points.

Chapter 57: Music Box

Climbing ahead of Sharon, I reached the second terrace. It wrapped around the interior with branches leading to half a dozen hallways. A set of double doors sat directly in the middle, above where a host might greet arriving guests. The doors were guarded by a giant suit of elaborate plate armor.

Eight feet tall, the armor was made of black metal. Gold accents framed the joints, and it held a sword pointing downward between its feet. Looking at it sent a shiver of cold magic through my skin.

"Let me guess, you're about to animate and attack me?" I glanced back, not wanting Sharon to arrive and unwittingly get caught between us.

She moved slowly, eyes still heavy, only halfway up the stairs.

Turning back, I spotted a liquid, eel-like shape within the visored head. Oversized yellow eyes gleamed with murderous intent as it hissed. With one fluid motion, the armor rotated its sword and faced me. Eerie green fire engulfed the blade, igniting complex runes along its length.

A dense wave of cold slammed into my chest, the magic as potent as my belt or boots.

"I’m going to need sword lessons after I take that from you," I muttered, eyeing the weapon. Bravado aside, the wall of cold emanating from sword and armor signaled serious danger. I held my hand over my vambrace, summoning the Unforged Gauntlet.

My HUD updated with a notification.

Target Identified: Punisher Wyrm-Infected Lore Guardian (Elite, local boss-class monster)

My relic materialized just as the sword sliced toward my head. I dodged sideways, attempting to roll. My lack of training won out against my Grace score, transforming the maneuver into a haphazard fall.

Grunting, I lifted my arm to block the descending blade with both intact gauntlet tines.

CLANG!

The armored creature wasn't as strong as Jasteel, but it was close. A fissure appeared along one claw blade as I kicked its shin.

SLAM!

It toppled, arms splaying as it fell face-first beside me. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Sharon reaching the top of the stairs. The thought of her entranced and defenseless against this thing nearly made my blood boil.

An instinct surfaced: She is mine to protect.

I rolled to my feet as the System announced, "Apocalypse BREAKER is now active."

Grabbing the armor's neck, I yanked it toward the balcony. It released its sword to seize my arm. The guardian tumbled over the railing, dragging me with it.

We fell fifteen feet and hit with such force that the ground quaked beneath the impact. The armor struck first, pulling me onto its chest. Its fist slammed against my side, then head, as serpentine tendrils shot from between the plates. Vicious, hooked appendages tore at my torso and face, creating shallow, wide wounds.

I glimpsed the creature within the neck hole recoiling as it inhaled sharply. Twisting aside cost both flesh and blood but probably saved my life as yellowish ichor spewed from the armor's grill, aimed where I'd been.

New pain layered over old. The novelty of being flayed alive lasted half a second before rage returned.

This thing.

This...fucking...thing.

There was no reason for such intense anger at this fallen armor. Yet it consumed me.

Roaring, I drove my gauntlet into the chest plate, relic-sharp tines penetrating the enchanted metal with a horrific screech. Through the gaps, the tentacular Wyrm writhed, extending more limbs to wrap around my arm. The creature found impossible openings, sliding beneath my magical gloves and into my sleeve.

Everywhere it touched, it flayed.

I vaguely registered Robin making a clicking sound above but couldn't divert my focus. Using my free arm, I reached for the helmet, forcing my fingers through gaps that were almost too narrow. Accepting bruising pain, I redoubled my efforts, bending metal to give myself the handhold I needed. Curling my fingers around solid metal, I wrenched at the headpiece.

The Wyrm hissed, teeth clamping on my gloved fingers. The fangs slid across Jasteel’s gloves without penetrating.

I yanked the helmet with one hand while forcing the other deeper, slicing through symbols lining the chest armor. My muscles bunched until veins pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat. Blood soaked my chest and arms as I growled. Each bite and laceration only strengthened my resolve.

SKREEEEE!

Metal protested as the armor's lights flickered. When they dimmed, the helmet shot free like a cannonball.

With its head gone, the suit became inert. I extracted my gauntlet from the chest and plunged it through the neck hole. Blades scraped the interior as I closed my fist around the Wyrm's face. It gnawed at my palm, painful even through my new gloves.

The creature fought as I dragged it out, tentacles inflicting more damage before withdrawing, leaving yellow-tinted ichor across the armor. A wave of blood loss-induced dizziness nearly made me pass out by the time I managed to fully reveal the monstrosity.

Free of its housing, the Wyrm was larger than expected. Its head resembled a large dog's, but the body consisted of tentacles stretching fifteen to twenty feet as they coiled around me.

I registered hundreds of wounds forming across my body as I dropped to one knee. Increasingly dizzy, I slammed the Wyrm's head into the floor. The impact cracked stone and stunned the creature, its tentacles momentarily loosening.

Seizing the opportunity, I gripped a tentacle near its head with my free hand. Holding it in place, I drove the Unforged Gauntlet's spikes into its eyes. Red-orange light erupted from the weapon as it penetrated, ending the monster's existence.

Panting, I dismissed the notification about Furious Killer as I stood and looked for whatever had drawn Robin's attention.

My companion stood above me, his body covered in glowing white claw marks. He trembled, not from pain but excitement, as he opened his jaws. Sharon was even with him, still walking toward the now-unguarded doors.

A spinning pinwheel of black, red, and orange emerged from Robin's mouth, hovering before his face. His tail lashed, pointing from the sphere to my gauntlet. "Hungry."

I extended my hand, intending to approach. Instead, the energy shot toward the gauntlet and merged with it. A wave of satisfaction washed through my dazed mind as the cracks in the blades sealed.

"That's going to be useful," I noted, applying one of Jasteel's high grade healing salves.

To be absolutely clear: applying potent System magic to exposed nerves would never be on my list of things to do voluntarily, no matter how adjusted I became to the sensation. Biting back a roar of pain, I hurried after my enchanted companion.

Near the top of the stairs, I heard doors opening, followed by a rush of music.

"Is that the Doom soundtrack?" I wondered, increasing my pace. Reaching the terrace, I found Sharon entering another room. Cursing, I snatched up the armor’s discarded sword and followed.

Robin, limping slightly, leapt to my shoulder as I passed. Together, we entered just steps behind our entranced companion.

The chamber was divided into four distinct zones.

To my left stood a fairytale bedroom with a four-poster bed, bookshelves, and ornate furnishings. To my right sat a black stone pyramid nearly three feet tall with a deep notch at its apex. Directly ahead stretched a modest ballroom floor, perhaps twelve feet square. In the final section stood several desks. On one, a silver display held an open case with nine dice-shaped objects nestled in velvet cushions. The tenth slot was empty.

Robin's beam swept the room until it revealed a female ghost in the center. She swayed in elegant, gliding movements. Above her, the final dice-shaped object—a gemstone D10—hovered, emitting the music.

Sharon stepped forward, moving in rhythm with the ghost, her motions initially awkward but quickly synchronizing.

I assessed the situation, resisting the impulse to attack immediately. For all I knew, striking the ghost might harm Sharon.

The apparition had high cheekbones and a generous, blue-tinted mouth. Her oversized eyes regarded me sleepily as she danced, her magnificent gown brushing the floor. I shifted my focus from her face to her attire.

The elaborate black and red dress with gold piping would fit perfectly in a period drama, though its stitching and cut were unusual to my untrained eye.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "What are you doing to Sharon?"

The woman answered in fluid syllables that my HUD slowly decoded. "I am Contessa Du Rielka. And this living woman has been attracted by a trinket, which was not my intent. My only goal was to draw you to this place to speak. Disable the device and she will be free once more."

I studied the floating object, hoping my HUD would offer a solution. When nothing popped up, I turned to Robin. "Fetch?"

"Fetch," he echoed, leaping down. He padded beneath the object, then propelled himself upward with his hind legs and tail. His paws clicked against the crystal as he pulled it from its orbit.

The music continued as he wrapped his tail around the device and brought it to me. I stored the Unforged Gauntlet in my vambrace and held out my hand. After a brief chill, I accepted it from him.

Parasite code flickered before solidifying with a message.

Item Identified: Enthraller's Music Box (Necromancy Enhanced)

Details: When active, this device hovers around a person or area. While active, it produces music suitable to entertain and enthrall all within range. The difficulty to resist is low, but enhanced by nearby undead (see below).

Activation: Activating this device costs 4 mana. It remains active for up to 10 minutes.

Necromancy Enhancement: This device can be powered and empowered by necromantic entities. Every 5 such entities substitutes for 1 point of mana needed for activation. Each entity within range increases the difficulty to resist the enthralling enchantment by 3%.

Parasite Override: You may activate and deactivate this simple magical device using your HUD. Warning: Extracting it from this building will expose it to the System, allowing mapping of its functionality and potential duplication. If you wish to conceal this unmapped object, consider non-System methods of transportation.

"Like what?" I muttered at the final sentence, while toggling the device off.

The music softened and faded. Sharon blinked awake, looking confused. She spotted me, blood-soaked, and yelped, stumbling back. Then she turned, saw the ghost still visible in Robin's beam, and repeated her startled reaction.

"No screaming, please," the Contessa requested, covering a translucent ear. "I am not that kind of ghost." She cleared her throat—an odd action for a dead woman—and continued, "I believe I overheard you are both looking to foil the System, is that correct? Well, I may have good news for you. I want to help."

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Dean Versus Punisher Wyrm-Infected Lore Guardian (Elite, local boss-class monster)

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: 260 hit points

Awards: 1,500 experience points.

Notable Loot:

● Greatsword of the Lich Tyrant (Swing a few times to begin the identification process)

Chapter 58: Contessa Du Reilka

Sharon looked at me. "Think you can catch me up before the nice ghost lady either tries to help us or lures us into a not-so-ironic trap?"

Contessa laughed softly, the sound echoing. The elegant ghost continued her slow swaying, gown rippling despite the absence of wind.

"The only thing I don't know," I explained to Sharon, "is why I wasn't affected at all."

"Check your details," she reminded me, eyes darting between the ghost and the doorway.

I checked my HUD. There was a long list of You have resisted an enthralling effect, with just one troubling entry: You have been enthralled: the effect has made you angrier.

"If only rage made me stronger," I muttered, wiping blood from my face.

Robin's head suddenly jerked toward the door, his body tensing. A scraping sound, like claws on marble, echoed from the corridor outside. We all froze, but after several seconds, the noise faded.

The dinosaur returned to his vigilant watch, moving closer to Sharon as she caught up with the situation.

"Hate to be obvious here," Sharon said, addressing the ghost while shifting position to keep both the door and the hovering woman in view, "but why would you help us?"

"You work against the System." Contessa gestured toward the black pyramid. "My husband, before he went mad, built our entire order to do the same. The very artifacts in this building were experiments in doing just that." She waved across the room, to one of several tapestries near the bed. One depicted a group of people in robes, alternating red and black, around a similar-looking pyramid with purple glyphs near the top.

Her form flickered briefly. "In addition, I'm hopeful you will consider releasing me. I tire of this existence and wish to move on before the System consumes my soul."

Sharon and I exchanged a look. I said, "Put that way, it makes sense."

"It does," she agreed. "Still going to look out for that ironic trap though."

"Always."

A distant wail pierced the air, causing Robin to bristle before the sound dissolved into silence.

We both turned to the ghost. Sharon took the lead. "How can you help?"

"I can tell you where my late husband's treasury is, and how to access it." Contessa's voice took on a melodic quality. "Would that suffice?"

Sharon shot me a questioning look. "I'm all ears. Dean? Unless you'd prefer to do this the hard way?"

I held up both hands, the blood-soaked remnants of my next-to-last shirt barely clinging to my torso. "It's not that I don't enjoy the hard way. If there's one thing I've learned, the rewards are usually better. But I wouldn't mind a simple solution. You know. Just this once."

"Uh huh." Sharon crossed her arms. "Are you positive you don't want to go through every single room, smashing your face against all the lurking monsters? There might be loot."

I hesitated, thinking of how quickly I went through magical items, and how old magic gear might outperform the System’s trashy copies.

"There are valuables," Contessa interjected, floating toward the carved oak desk bearing the ten-slot case. "But once I tell you what's inside the treasury, and why the System seeks it, you might change your mind about dallying overmuch."

That got my attention. "Okay, what's in the treasury, where is it, and how do we get inside?"

Sharon moved toward the bedroom area, studying the tapestries intently. "And what kind of experiments were you working on? Our people might benefit from your insights."

"That," Contessa said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "brings us back to the treasury."

The ghost drifted closer to the dancing floor. "Do you know of Jasmine? You must have, if you are here."

"She's a contemporary of Telkazorin," Sharon replied, not looking up from her examination of a dusty tome on a varnished wood nightstand. "The two were here, working together on projects. Right?" Glancing at the ghost, she picked the book up. When Contessa didn’t gainsay the activity, she added it to one of her inventory pouches.

Robin kept pace with Sharon, lantern eyes on the ghost as his nostrils flared with increasing agitation.

"Just so," Contessa confirmed. "Both were gifted spellcasters, researching ways to alter the nature of magic to stop the System."

Sharon pointed at a wall of books. “May I?”

The ghost made a generous wave. “Take what you want. You’ll be freeing me from this prison soon anyway.”

“Great.” Both hands moving in tandem, the analyst began stuffing ancient tomes into her pouches. I considered mentioning the System potentially using the information for its own purposes, then decided not to. If Sharon was willing to risk it, there must be a reason.

"When altering magic itself didn’t work," Contessa picked back up, "they looked for alternatives. Spells that were more difficult for the System to translate. Outcomes it would not abide, and therefore avoid."

Sharon's analytical mind was clearly connecting the dots. "Clever. If the System couldn't translate certain types of magic reliably, it might avoid those worlds."

The ghost nodded. "Eventually, Telkazorin founded a cabal specializing in research into necromancy and a field of magic he called 'domination.'"

"And what was Jasmine's specialty?" I asked, redirecting the conversation as I flexed my now healed arm.

"The opposite." Contessa's form drifted toward the pyramid. "She was a woman of healing and purity, who sought ways to cleanse magic of the threat. Their differing approaches are partially why they worked so well together."

A tapestry in the bedroom briefly caught the light, depicting a tall woman of otherworldly beauty. Light stretched from her hand, striking at a tainted river. The metaphor was clear enough.

"When Telkazorin left to further his research into other elder species, she remained behind, volunteering to help steer his cabal and continue their research."

A thunderous crash from somewhere in the building interrupted us. Robin hissed, positioning himself between the door and Sharon.

Once the echoes faded, Sharon pressed on. "And the rest of their kind? I've heard there were more than just those two with the ability to traverse worlds?"

Contessa pursed her lips tightly, then shrugged. "I know not of what you speak. The lore I possess has been handed down for generations, transcribed through books, then passed through knowledge stones, and finally through phylacteries and the Instrumentum Benedictionis."

At the last word, Robin took a step toward the door, his throat making that clicking sound. I spun to see two shapes rushing into the room. One was dog-like, its body covered with ropey, liquid muscles. The head was inverted, a sinewy neck opening to reveal twisted teeth. Coming right behind it was a cockroach as big as a wudgie, the thing walking on its hind legs, a human skull embedded in the center of its thorax.

Both creatures brought with them an awful stench, like something dredged from the alleyway behind a bar. Resisting the urge to retch, I took two quick steps and snapped a kick at the central mass of the cockroach.

Behind me, Sharon got off one of her light spells. She'd aimed it behind the monsters, through the door, so only the edge of the brilliant white rays struck the two. It made steam rise from both, although it didn't slow either down.

The cockroach brought a scythe-bladed forelimb down on my leg just before I punted the thing into the light ball. Its shell hissed and popped, adding even more noxious odor to the air as it slammed into the ground and struggled to rise.

Robin had taken after the creature my HUD called a Suckhole Canine. The dinosaur moved slower, keeping his weight off the injured leg as he relied on his tail to act as a whip, cracking toward the creature's face area to distract it.

The Suckhole's lamprey teeth clicked loudly as it followed my companion. Too slow to catch up to the agile daemon, it rotated in place, trying to keep up with Robin.

Their spiraling dance lasted until the Suckhole took a step back, bringing it within six feet of me.

Summoning the Unforged Gauntlet, I lunged, skewering the thing's back. It made a wet "Schlorp" sound as sparks rose from the point of contact between the relic's blades and pulsating meat.

"Eat up, boy," I said to Robin, yanking upward, unzipping the disgusting thing's flesh like a butcher.

In one of the most uncomfortable sounds of my entire life, I heard my first "suck-howl" as Robin pounced on the open back and began tearing at its innards, eating loudly.

The other monster, named a Deathhead Cockroach in my HUD, returned to the battle. Covered in boils and steaming its foul odor into the room, it skittered toward me.

THUD!

The polished lamp stand, heavy enough to give most grown men pause, crashed into the monster's side.

I looked over, seeing Sharon panting from exertion, but grinning. "Got it!"

"You sure did," I said, closing distance with the disoriented bug. One slash removed a limb. I repeated the process, narrowly avoiding further injury as I dismantled the resilient insect, then skewered its thorax several times.

The System announced the timer countdown on Furious Killer as I received a tiny jolt of strength. I made a mental note to look for a toggle to disable the announcement each time it triggered. At the thought, my HUD flickered.

Notifications for Furious Killer have been reduced from Always to Minimal.

Pleased at how easy that had been, I checked on my companions.

Robin, no longer limping and looking slightly larger than before, rushed over to eat that one too. Before he did, he paused long enough to cough up another ball of daemonic energy. I collected it, and red-orange light settled into place over my fist before elongating and solidifying into the third, missing blade.

A quick check of my HUD revealed that the time allotment for the weapon was not increasing. It currently read: Unforged Gauntlet Time Remaining -- 25 minutes.

That bit was vaguely disappointing, but having some way to repair the thing was a big upgrade from where we’d been, so I’d take it.

Securing the gauntlet back inside the vambrace, Sharon and I returned our attention to the center of the room. It took Robin a good fifteen seconds to chew through the guts of the roach, after which he returned the lights to the undead woman.

"There will be much more where that came from," she said dryly, once she was visible again. "The cabal set many defenses even I was not privy to. The longer you remain within these walls, the more you will awaken. You would be wise to stay on your guard."

"Don't have to tell us twice," Sharon muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. "Have I mentioned how much I hate horror-themed Events? Anyway, you were saying something about an Instrumentum Benedictionis?"

"Ah. Yes. The story." The ghost floated over to the pyramid. "Thousands of years ago, my husband and his cabal grew incautious. Ambitious."

"They turned on Jasmine, thinking to leech knowledge from her for their aims. Her essence was sealed into a vessel, with her knowledge and spirit intact."

The ghost continued, voice growing strained. "When they discovered their methods for extracting information would not work on an elder being, they put her into a place for safekeeping, one they intended to access later."

My mind raced, putting the pieces together. "Ah, crap. You're talking about the treasury."

"I am."

Sharon had gone still, her analytical mind clearly processing the implications. "Did Telkazorin know about this attack? I can't imagine capturing Jasmine was easy or could have been pulled off without his help."

Contessa shook her head slowly. "I know not. But I can explain how it happened."

She gestured at the pyramid. "Activating the Instrumentum Benedictionis will bestow a great blessing upon the recipient. During the transfer process, they are rendered vulnerable, all shields and defenses pushed aside for the inscription to take place."

Sharon's eyes widened with comprehension. "That's precisely what happens when someone is Activated. The System pushes everything else aside to make room."

"Just so," Contessa agreed. "It was based on similar principles, just far less efficient and enormously expensive."

I held up a hand, three fingers extended. "Okay, we now know the real treasure. More importantly, we know why the System wants it."

I ticked off one finger. "If it's someone on par with Telkazorin, the System will want to corrupt her or see her dead. Right?"

Sharon gave me a thumbs up as the ghost said, "Quite perceptive for a blood-soaked thug."

"Thanks." I held up two other fingers, the middle and index. "Where is it located, and how do we access it?"

Contessa gestured at the pyramid. "To enter the treasury, you will need at least two blessings aligned with my late husband's cabal. I recommend getting one of each. There are benefits."

I'm not too proud to admit the word 'benefits' perked my ears up. "Go on."

"The top of the Instrumentum is a receptacle. Insert a potent magical item. The device will rip the magic from the object and imbue you with both the blessing and an extracted ability."

"What kind of abilities? A spell, maybe?" I asked eagerly. Despite everything, acquiring my own spells remained a priority.

"No spells from items," Contessa corrected. "To learn spells you'd need to sacrifice an entire phylactery, or a great tome. But a weapon, such as the sword you took from my jailor, would do fine."

I drew the giant sword from my inventory pouch and gave it an experimental swing, waiting for the Parasite code to catch a whiff of how the old magic worked.

Relic Partially Identified

Name: Greatsword of the Lich Tyrant

Properties: Special; See notes

Damage: 25-35 (Base)

Restriction: This weapon has abilities that unlock based on the number of necromancy spells you know. The first one is free/already unlocked.

Starting Ability: Each foe you kill with this sword has a 5% chance to rise as an undead. The type of undead and their abilities depends on the circumstances of their death along with their innate abilities (and intact mana) at the time they were slain. Undead created in this way will obey the holder of this sword with utter faithfulness and obedience, although intelligent varieties may retain many of their old values and personality.

I gawked at the text, passing it to Sharon through our shared HUD, who made a choking sound before saying, "I know you’re into collecting magical items, but this would be perfect for Cruz. He’s a necromancy specialist. In his hands, this could give the team so much more versatility.”

It was with no little embarrassment that I realized I’d been thinking almost entirely about myself. As soon as she reminded me about the team, the implications were clear: a proper necromancer with this sword would be truly awesome.

Plus, I had zero inclination to go that route. Dabble for a spell or two? Sure. As a bonus feature. Not as a main course.

Contessa drew both of our attention when she waved at a tapestry depicting a figure in a crown made of solid red metal. It towered over a battlefield of undead creatures, from skeletons to zombies, and every variation of monster we’d fought so far in the grounds. "Your debate about who should wield the weapon is moot. To earn the blessing and the single benefit it conveys, you’ll have to sacrifice it. You'll also need an object of domination. Fortunately, I can point you to the precise room where a crown of suitable power is kept."

"You said phylacteries would work too, right?" I asked, looking for alternatives that would give us the cake and the magical items. "Are there any here we could use for this purpose?"

"Yes. There is a research room in the catacombs that would have them. But going there is a much more dangerous option. It would be far easier to traverse these corridors, find the chamber with the crown and sacrifice it and the sword to achieve your aim."

"But we can learn spells from phylacteries," I pointed out. Now that I had the idea, it was growing on me. Give a member of Earth’s defenders an incredible weapon and allow me to acquire my first real spells. "Are they flavored in necromancy and domination, too?"

Contessa said, “There is no need to differentiate, as the Instrumentum can give a blessing based on any of the spells possessed by a phylactery. Only talented members of the cabal would have qualified for the process.”

That pretty much made the decision for me, although I was hesitant to force Sharon to make the same call. "What do you say? Would you like a few old magic spells, too?"

She tried casting one of her probability spells and frowned at the results. "I can't see crap in this magical dead zone, but we both know that free spells, especially ones the System can't control, are a good idea. On the other hand, I’m not sure going for an even more difficult reward is the right play with so much on the line."

Accessing my HUD, I sent her the details of Mana Sensitivity again. Speaking telepathically, I said, “My mana is going to outscale my hit points a lot by the time I’m level twenty. If we’re focused on making sure I’m as capable as possible, the detour only makes sense.”

Sharon eyed the text, reaching up to tug at her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I can see your argument. That doesn’t make it the right one. This place is chock full of monsters. They might be easy for you to defeat, but that doesn’t mean things won’t get worse below.”

I made a dice rolling gesture. “No ambition, no rewards.”

With a reluctant sigh, she shrugged. “Fine. You’ve got a point.” Scanning the room a final time, she went on, “I say we collect the crown, then go down. We shouldn't waste time, but leaving opportunities this valuable behind makes no sense."

To Contessa, I said, "Can you give us details of where we can find the crown and of the catacombs? A map would be ideal."

She glared, pale eyes flashing. "You will seal your doom with this ambition. Fine. Agree to my terms. Destroy the item binding my soul, and I will provide you with what you ask."

"Agreed."

Hands moving in magical patterns, the ghost left trails of haunting light in the air. The trails settled into the shape of a map. A highlighted series of halls led to a spot she said held a concealed vault with the crown.

Contessa pointed at the map. “You’ll find a rear entrance with vault access through an unmarked door. Directly across from the door, you’ll see a blank wall. That’s a concealed servants’ stairwell. Use the lever on the floor to access it, and you’ll exit directly in the catacomb, and relatively near your goal.”

Her illustration stretched before us, providing a birds’ eye view of the catacombs. The sub-level was a barely defined maze that Contessa sketched with finger gestures, ending at a cavern. “Those are where the research took place. Look for this tunnel.” She indicated a long branch connected to the cavern. It extended for what must have been three or four miles away from the catacombs. “If you get in trouble, use it. It leads to an emergency escape hatch.”

"Thank you," Sharon said, her voice softening slightly. "And for the last bit. Where is the treasury?"

"Go to the rocky area to the east of the city, then north. There are ancient quarries, ones long abandoned. One of them has the hidden entrance. Use the dice I heard you mention to locate the correct one and activate the unsealing process. The blessings will grant you access unmolested."

"Of course that’s where it is," I muttered, then growled as realization dawned. "Those damn wudgies. The dirty ones. Now it all makes sense. One of the miners must have found the vault."

Sharon, just a step behind, gasped. "Dean, that may be why the other adventurers aren't in a hurry. Maybe they've put it together already. We've got to be quick. There may be less time than we thought."

The ghost pointed at a spot on the floor, half-screaming with urgency. "Beneath the floor is my wedding ring. Destroy it. Free me."

Moving to the indicated spot, I used the hilt of the relic sword to shatter the floor. It was easy enough, taking only three blows. As Contessa said, there was a ring. It was a plain white-gold band with a pearl at the top.

"Thank..." Contessa began, only to vanish as I smashed the ring with the sword hilt hard enough to make it unrecognizable.

"Dean," Sharon said into the stunned silence. "That was not very romantic of you. We could at least have let her say goodbye."

I looked over at her, deadpan, and growled, "Me smash. No time for womance."

Snorting, she shook her head. "Did you seriously call it 'womance'?"

"Smash Womance!" Robin chipped in, making both of us laugh despite the danger surrounding us.

The momentary levity faded as another crash echoed through the mansion, followed by a chorus of unearthly howls. Whatever was coming, it was coming soon.

"Stick to the plan," I said, gesturing toward the door. "Get the crown, find the phylacteries, then get the hell out of here."

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Suckhole Canine and Deathhead Cockroach

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: Negligible

Awards: 300 experience points.

Chapter 59: To the Catacombs

Sharon held a hand up. "Hold on." Detaching an inventory pouch, she crossed to the black pyramid. She positioned the pouch against it as I felt a burst of magic pulse from the object, distinctly augmented by Parasite code. "We may need this when we go below."

"Aren't you worried about the System picking that up?"

She shook her head, switching to telepathy despite the notification that we were likely safe to talk aloud. "This inventory pouch has been adjusted to conceal the contents and bend some of the rules. I only have one, but if you need to store anything top secret, let me know."

The pyramid crackled with magic, resisting the augmented inventory pouch for several long seconds before vanishing with a sharp SNAP!

Intrigued by the magical music devices, I crossed the room to the display case. I gathered the nine crystal dice-shaped objects, added the tenth back to the mix, and offered them to her.

"Those should be safe. The System has items like that already."

A little giddy at the thought of having my own combat music, I claimed all ten.

"If there's nothing else in here you want, let's go."

I scanned the room one last time and finding nothing else of value or overtly magical, I took the lead.

Robin held back, staying close to Sharon as we resumed our journey.

According to the ghost's map, there was a direct route from the second story to our destination. It would require crossing through a few connecting rooms but would take less than half the time we'd need without guidance.

I withdrew the necromantic greatsword, leaving my gauntlet in the vambrace for now.

The first corridor stretched several hundred feet, flanked irregularly by ornate doors. Flickering candles—their light the same milky shine as the pillars announcing the shadow monsters—cast uneven illumination across the elegant but dust-laden space. Robin's adaptation proved invaluable here, revealing several hulking creatures waiting at the end of the hall.

One strongly resembled an emaciated minotaur, complete with forward-facing horns atop its irregularly shaped head. The other was a robed skeleton, each eye socket glowing with embedded rubies.

My HUD labeled them Zombotar and Domination Lich (Lesser).

The lich lifted a withered hand, pointed a bony finger at me, and growled the words to a spell. Unlike System magic, the casting took time—not much, but far more than the single gestures I was used to from Sharon.

A beam of putrid green light struck my chest. A burning weakness began to course through my veins, only to end abruptly as my cheat code-level Attunement helped me resist the lesser monster's spell.

The zombotar, seeing its companion's attack fail, stepped forward, lifting a rust-pitted two-headed axe above its head.

CRACK!

Apparently, this was the monster's first time fighting in this particular hall. Although wide with a relatively high ceiling, it wasn't enough to accommodate the zombotar's reckless swing. The axe caught in an ornate ceiling moulding, momentarily locked into place.

I seized the opportunity, two-handing my new sword and sprinting to skewer the monster.

The bone-on-metal impact jarred my arms nearly to the shoulders. I wrestled the sword to the side, sending a spray of yellowed bones into the lich's face as it began casting another spell.

This time, it fixed me with jeweled sockets and rasped a single word: "DIE!"

Other than a mildly irritating tickle, I felt nothing.

Growling, I took a step to slam the sword blade into the spellcaster's begemmed skull. Bone cracked as it rebounded off the wall and fell, jaw working around fresh words as it struggled to its feet.

Leaving my side exposed cost me as the zombotar freed its axe and sent a sideways chop into my ribs. A wedge of anguish slid through bone and tissue as fresh blood gushed down my side and hip.

A beacon of light flooded the corridor just behind me. Sharon's spell had an instant effect, charring the zombotar's bones and distracting the lich from whatever it was attempting to cast next.

Releasing my sword with one hand, I reached out, grabbed the haft of the zombotar's axe, and tugged. The undead creature wasn't strong enough to stop me. I twisted with the pull, using the freed weapon like a club on top of the lich's head.

CRACK!

A pair of gemstone eyes rolled free as the body slumped.

"RAWR!"

I heard Robin's announcement an instant before he landed on the minotaur's face, claws slicing smoothly through bones.

For just a second, I paused to watch my companion. "If your claws are that sharp..." The thought died as the zombotar slammed a fist into Robin's side, earning a whimper and growl.

"Leave my dinosaur alone," I roared, bringing the haft of the monster's own axe against its side.

Even without the notification, I sensed the boost from Furious Killer kicking in, making it just a little easier to tear the animated corpse apart.

THUD!

The thing was tougher than it looked. Even missing nearly a quarter of its overall mass, the monster brutally struck Robin once, twice. As impressive as the daemon's body was, it wasn't built to soak damage. Whimpers overrode growls and, on the second strike, he went flying, rebounding off a portrait-lined wall to land beside the lich's remains.

The next few seconds blurred together. I remember dropping both weapons and throwing myself at the zombotar. There was growling, laughing, and a sensation of tearing the thing apart, followed by stillness.

When everything came back into focus, Sharon stood nearby, her pale face worried. "Dean! Dean, you need to snap out of it. It's dead! Robin is fine, he ate one of the lich's eyes. Look!"

Standing over a pile of bone dust, panting, I turned to see that she was right. Robin had indeed swallowed one of the lich's ruby eyes and had recovered enough to return to his feet. He regarded me, a warm sensation pouring through our bond.

"Oh. Yeah." I said dumbly, applying one of the moderate grade healing salves to myself. I offered one to Robin, who eyed it curiously before swallowing it whole.

A pulse of energy rippled through his body, completing his recovery. Jaws opening, he gave me his version of a smile, somehow both terrifying and adorable with that impossible number of teeth.

I leaned over to stroke his feathers and fur. “Have I told you how glad I am that you’re not a show cat?” I chuckled to myself as he leaned into it. “Yeah, that would just be too much. I can picture it. You’d probably start acting like I was your servant.” The image that conjured in my head only increased my laughter. Robin was definitely more my speed. A show cat would probably break me.

He beamed at me. "Cooler." When he spoke, the light of crushed lich eye gems glinted at the back of his throat.

Sharon moved closer, pocketing the lich's other eye and gesturing ahead. "Come on. We've got a way to go still, and you're burning through healing salves like they're candy. We don't want to run out."

"Right. Yeah." I grabbed the discarded greatsword. "Robin, you ready?"

His response was a little leap, then circling behind Sharon in a defensive posture.

"Good boy." I pointed ahead. "Just a little further, then through the first of the servants' rooms."

We practically sprinted the next hundred feet, arriving at an unmarked door just as heavy footsteps echoed from ahead. An aquamarine light, accompanied by a rolling, churning mist, appeared around the corner as a dull, rumbling growl emanated from near the ceiling.

"No undead balrogs for me today," I muttered, yanking the door open to reveal an apparently empty kitchen. Robin and Sharon hurried through, and I followed, shutting the door behind us.

The kitchen was grand—larger than the entire upstairs of my childhood home and filled with enchanted objects. A rack of tea pots covered in mystic symbols stood beside gleaming preparation surfaces, and no fewer than four blocks of cutlery lined the walls near giant copper pots that could have fed an army. The air smelled of old spices and dormant magic, with faint traces of meals prepared centuries ago somehow preserved in the atmosphere.

Robin's lantern vision revealed half a dozen ghosts, each dressed in this world's version of chef's uniforms. In keeping with the Contessa's wardrobe, they wore black and red, with gold piping, their sleeves cinched tightly against their wrists. Each of them, both males and females, were bald, and all were either human or close enough that I didn't notice much distinction.

Across from our entry point was our destination: a large, metal-edged set of double doors on swinging hinges.

"Get out! The food is not ready yet!" I have no idea why the HUD translated the guy as having a thick French accent, but it did. The speaker was a rotund man with a pinched face and a pronounced mustache waxed to points. He grabbed a cleaver and hurled it at me.

It wasn't a very good throw.

I deflected the weapon with my greatsword, bellowing, "Cut that out! We're just passing through. Do it again, and I'll start pillaging random kitchenware like a real adventurer should."

THUD!

A willowy woman, her hair in a neat bun, threw a breadbasket at Robin. It bounced ineffectually off his tail.

I was about to make good on my threat when a creaking sound echoed from behind. A wash of potent cold and a growl so bass it vibrated the copper pots carried through the air.

Hesitating, I started to turn to face the thing. Sharon grabbed my arm, propelling me forward. "Mission, remember?" she said, a little breathlessly. "If we have time later, you can come back and fight every optional boss in the castle."

Allowing her to pull me along, I grinned. "Really?"

She muttered a curse beneath her breath, before telling me, "No. Not really, you completionist maniac."

We pushed through the double doors at a jog.

The next hall was short and narrow, acting as a service tunnel for the servants. We aimed for a door at the far end, traveling in a tighter cluster given the confines.

"What's wrong with being a completionist?" I asked, using telepathy to conserve breath.

She replied in kind. "They waste time and miss the point of the experience."

"Maybe I have the most fun knowing I’ve explored every nook and cranny."

"Some nooks aren’t worth investigating, even when the stakes aren’t this high. Remember: if those clovash know where the treasure is, there's no telling when they'll turn everything upside down."

The next door led into an even larger room filled with immense stone vats. A soapy, electric smell washed over me as I entered what appeared to be a laundry. As with the kitchen, Robin's eyes revealed more ghosts. This batch slouched around wooden tables, playing cards and looking comfortable doing nothing.

"Huh. It never occurred to me that ghosts could just... be lazy."

"Don't stop," Sharon said, pointing at a door just out of line-of-sight on the far side. "All it takes is some senior undead to mobilize these, and we'll be taking baths in spectral lye or whatever caustic they used here."

"That doesn't sound fun," I admitted, hurrying past a wudgie who was smoking an ethereal cigar. The guy eyed me like I’d spit in his soup.

I promised myself if I ever came back here, I’d have a hard talk with that particular ghost.

We arrived at the door and paused, taking a few breaths. I consulted my HUD, using her upgrade to pass notes. We'd need to go down a short corridor to access the rear entrance of the room with the crown. Then it was a straight shot from that room to the concealed stairwell leading to the catacombs, and a short trek to our ultimate destination.

I took the lead. The corridor was even narrower than the last, and the walls were unadorned save for a few copper-cased torches. There were no signs of ghosts or other threats, and none appeared when Robin and Sharon joined me.

They followed as I led us to a nondescript metal door. I tried the handle, but it didn't budge. A hissing sound rose from somewhere as I tried again, applying force. I looked toward the furthest shadows, the only ones in view beyond Robin's revelatory high beams.

"Hiss at me again and I'll turn you into a juice box for my dinosaur."

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Dean Versus Zombotar and Domination Lich (Lesser)

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: 75 hit points

Awards: 850 experience points

Notable Loot:

● Lesser Lich Eye (In Sharon’s possession)

Chapter 60: Puzzles Exist

"Hss..." The hissing started, then abruptly halted. Perhaps it was unaccustomed to dealing with someone who wasn’t outright afraid of it.

"Dean." Sharon put a hand on my back. "I don't mind you playing with your food, or Robin's for that matter. This is where I remind you that this particular meal isn't one I'm interested in sharing."

"Right. Sorry." The door handle wasn't bending, which I considered a good sign as I leaned the greatsword against the wall and applied both hands. "It's just, I've never seen an entire monstrous manual crammed into one haunted mansion before. The variety is impressive."

"This is your second Event."

"Right. And?"

"Nothing," she said with a thin smile. "Just pointing out there will be plenty more opportunities to enjoy the universe's horror buffet later."

SNAP!

The mechanism inside the door finally gave way. Collecting my sword, we hurried into the vault room. I caught a quick glimpse of the small space—checkerboard marble floor matching the grand entry hall, four pillars with ornate vases atop each, and a rectangular standing desk beneath a high, domed ceiling—before the door slammed shut behind us.

Other than Robin's lanterns, there was no light. A heavy magical curtain had fallen over everything, dimming even the daemon's glowing eyes.

"Hiss." Like Robin’s announcements, this came across as more spoken than performed. Unlike his, this was delivered with enough performative arrogance that I instantly knew its source was the monster we’d heard in the hall.

Robin blasted light at the corner. The room was small enough that the cones illuminated a full quarter of the space, but the monster remained hidden.

Sharon, pressed against my back, tried a spell. I felt the brief puff of warm System magic before it dissipated into nothing. Her spell had failed. A quick check of my HUD revealed that the interface had faded, with only the green of Parasite code still active.

"And this is precisely why I want to learn old magic," Sharon muttered.

Hiss. Skkkkkkt. This time, the noise came from a different corner, followed by a scraping sound like a blade against stone.

Lantern light flashed to the source, catching nothing but a glimpse of white.

I held up a finger toward the sound. "I warned you once."

Hiss-Snort-Hiss.

The bastard was laughing at me.

"Fine," I growled, waving for my party to move with me as I stalked to the center of the room. Examining the ceiling's grid of domed concrete with alternating red and black squares, I lifted the broadsword, turned the blade, and extended both arms, ramming the relic into the stone.

It wasn't easy, but with my Strength score, I managed to lodge the blade about halfway to the hilt.

"Robin, go," I commanded, extending an arm.

With a rattling click, my companion jumped to my hand, then my shoulder, then climbed to dangle from the sword hilt. Using his tail as an anchor, Robin hoisted himself as high as possible, then rotated his head downward. Between the height and the intimate size of the room, his lantern beams illuminated the entire space.

I whipped my head around, finding the source of the mocking hisses standing in a corner. It had the shape of a tall, cloaked man wearing a bowler hat. Everything about him—from his dapper clothes to his polished shoes to his skin—was alabaster white. He had one arm raised, blocking half his face, so all I saw were enormous silvery eyes.

Soundlessly, he glided toward me, keeping one hand covering his mouth as the other extended in a grasping claw.

I summoned the Unforged Gauntlet and moved to meet the creature halfway. At my charge, he hesitated, arm drooping enough to reveal a face overflowing with oversized teeth.

Parasite green text labeled him a Bucktooth Nosferatu Vampire (Shadow Affinity).

Knocking his hand aside with a backhand, I rounded the creature's side and slammed the three tines of the gauntlet into his central mass.

His expression transformed from hesitant to bewildered. "That...hurts." The words emerged through a lisp thicker than a dictionary. It came out as “thaaat thurts.”

"Mhm," I agreed, driving him into the wall. Pinning him at an angle that prevented him from using either arm effectively, I snarled into his face, "Remember what I said about making you a juice box?"

Bucktooth's eyes widened and his body softened, taking on a misty quality. The tines of my gauntlet burned red-orange, locking the thing in place. With a delighted screech, Robin leaped from the sword to land atop the amorphous cloud.

A wail of anguish erupted from the monster as my companion slurped and chewed it up.

"As promised, dinner is served," I said, maintaining contact long enough to ensure the thing couldn't escape.

After Robin finished his snack, he shuddered, coughing up another bit of daemonic energy. It was sphere-shaped, so I decided to call them "daemon spheres" at least in my head. I collected it, and a spinning ball of red-orange, spike-covered metal rematerialized.

When I absorbed it, the Parasite portion of my HUD flickered with added details.

I grinned, patting Robin's head. "Good boy." The Unforged Gauntlet was down to fifteen minutes before self-destruction, but at least I had full functionality again.

Sharon cleared her throat. "If you two are done, I could use that light again. This looks like a puzzle."

"A puzzle?"

"You know, one of those things we have to solve to get to the reward?"

"Wait, those are real?"

"Dean," she sounded exasperated, "if you're fighting zombie minotaurs, vampires, and liches, why wouldn't treasure rooms with elaborate traps be real? They were common even in Earth's past. Surely you've heard of mechanical puzzle boxes from the 17th century?"

"Oh. Yeah. Good point. I’d forgotten about those."

Robin took a running leap, catching the dangling sword hilt to illuminate the room again.

Sharon crossed to the ornate desk and the smooth wall behind it. I moved around to watch as she opened and closed the empty, velvet-lined drawers.

"What makes you think this is a puzzle?" I asked.

"Do you see a crown?"

"No."

"But we know this room has the vault with the crown, right?"

"Assuming Contessa wasn't lying, yeah."

"Has she lied so far?"

"No."

"There you go." She moved to the wall, beckoning me to join her. "She mentioned there were things the cabal did without her knowledge. This is likely one of them. Put your hand here and sweep it around. Let's use that sensitivity of yours."

I did as she asked, pressing my palm against the stone façade. "My what?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Be our magical metal detector."

Resisting further banter, I moved my hand until I found a rectangular spot that felt distinctly colder than the surrounding wall. "Here. It feels deep though. Want me to just break through?"

She considered for a moment, tried casting a spell, cursed when it failed, then shook her head. "No. There will be a mechanism. Anyone who went to this much trouble would have trapped it. Give me three minutes to figure this out. If I can't, then you can do your thing. Fair?"

"Works for me." I moved away to keep watch. With Bucktooth dead and Robin's light banishing the darkness, I noticed the door we'd entered through was slightly ajar. Wet, slithering sounds echoed from the corridor, promising more company.

Stripped of her magic but not her attributes or innate skills, Sharon examined the room methodically. She circled the pillars and vases once, then moved directly beneath the dangling sword hilt and pulled herself up for a better view of the floor.

"Got it," she announced with quiet confidence. "The floor pattern matches the Contessa's dress. See it?"

I did not. "Oh, yeah. How did I miss that?"

"And those vases are all oriented differently. The floor marks form a mathematical pattern. This is basic geometry."

"Super basic, absolutely."

She shot me a knowing smile. "You're not seeing it at all, are you?"

"Nope. I hate puzzles. They're the trailers before movies. I'm here to chew on monsters and take their loot, not solve math problems."

"Which is precisely why they're effective. It's also why you need a team." She moved to the first vase, placed her hands on opposite sides, and rotated it slightly.

CLICK!

A soft clicking sound came from the vase's base, followed by a distinctive rattle, like a spring-driven timer had begun counting down.

She moved swiftly to the next vase, turning it until she got the same result, then hurried to repeat the process with the remaining two.

"I’m not against it," I said, leaning against the wall and keeping an eye out for future threats. Using the pause in action, I pulled my HUD up to begin assigning Attribute points. “Looks like I’ll be able to pick up several new traits.”

“Keep in mind, your starter traits are way overpowered compared to the regular ones. The next ones you get are more likely to improve existing ones, or give limited versions of what Starters do.” With all four vases in position, a THUD came from the wooden desk as a drawer on the blank side popped open. Grinning with excitement, she walked across the room to the desk.

“Gotcha. Do I still want to be careful about when I roll for them?”

“Less so, but following the same logic will remain useful.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Putting ten in Strength just made sense. It gave me an extra trait. I debated about adding more to Mind, but the rate with which I was gaining mana over hit points made the decision for me. As much as I didn’t mind throwing myself into dangerous physical combat, I hoped magic would give me scale. I added twenty-five to Mind, earning yet another trait. Following that logic, I added eighteen to Attunement, bringing it to one-fifty as well. With only a few points remaining, I threw them all into Grace mostly as an afterthought.

This time, when I confirmed my choices there was only a mild burn. Ignoring the unpleasant tingle, I watched as Sharon drew out a medallion attached to a length of velvet. The center of the jewelry contained several neatly cut mana gems, all dark and lifeless.

Her expression clouded as she examined it. "This is troubling. I can't identify this, even with my HUD enhancements. It's probably the key to the vault, but I'd wager it's trapped."

I held out my hand. "Let me try. Remember, my mana is different."

She gave me a thoughtful look. "True. That might work. Or it might explode in your face. You're our fighting specialist. If something happens to you, I'm finished."

"And without your insights and experience with the System, I'd be equally lost," I countered. "Sharon, we're both essential to this mission. Between the two of us, who's more likely to survive magical backlash?"

"You," she admitted.

I crossed the room, dropping the bantering tone we'd developed. "I'm not oblivious to what I'm becoming. I'm a weapon, yes. But I'm determined to be more than that. If I can be your shield too, I will. This is my job. Let me do it."

She looked up at me, realization dawning on her face without the usual undertone of wariness. "You genuinely mean that. The shield part."

"I'd put myself between you and danger any day, no second thoughts."

A corner of her mouth quirked upward. "The same way you'd lead us on a long walk, realize we were being followed, and let the ambush happen just to have a fight away from innocents?"

"You caught that, did you?"

She tapped her forehead. "Analyst, remember?"

I didn't answer her rhetorical question. Instead, I took the medallion and stepped back, just in case. Pressing my scarred palm against the cold metal, I channeled mana into the gems.

Robin made a soft warning sound as aquamarine light began to shine from the object.

Insubstantial tendrils, reminiscent of the Wyrm's barbed limbs, burst from the medallion, wrapping around my body in an instant. There was a momentary pause before necromantic spikes shot from the gelatinous flesh toward my skin.

Red-orange light erupted from the gems, consuming every trace of the previous enchantment. The tendrils twisted and blackened, materializing into the physical realm as ice-cold energy sizzled along their lengths.

I felt weakened, drained as mana gushed from my hands, no longer fueling the trap but powering an entirely different transformation. The air around my fist crackled and warped as a sensation of otherness slid into place, claiming the amulet as its new home.

THUD!

The back wall shuddered as a heavy stone plate slid aside. A metal box, no more than twelve inches to a side, emerged from a recessed alcove.

Robin made a series of sounds, his feathers bristling as he hissed and clicked. In response, the nest of transformed tendrils pulled free from my grasp, taking the medallion with them. The spell-monster, which my HUD hadn't labeled, darted to the door, shoved it open, and vanished into the corridor.

Brief, moist sounds echoed from the hallway.

My knees nearly buckled as I checked my HUD. Over a hundred and fifty points of mana had been drained in seconds. Unlike physical combat, this left me feeling hollow, as if I'd sprinted a marathon through quicksand. Bleary-eyed, I crossed to the door to check the hallway. There was no sign of any monsters, although the medallion-creature was briefly visible before disappearing into the washroom.

"Yeah, you get that wudgie," I muttered, thinking about the one who’d been eyeballing me in the kitchen. Turning, I saw Sharon lifting a crown from the metal box. An ominous burgundy light pulsed from the artifact, casting sinister shadows across her face.

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Dean Versus Bucktooth Nosferatu Vampire (Shadow Affinity)

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: Negligible

Awards: 350 experience points.

Notable Loot:

● Crown of Encroaching Domination (To be identified)

Character Update

Name: Dean Williams

Class: Apocalypse BREAKER

Level: 10

Installed Experience Points: 52,316

Total Acquired Experience Points: 220,267

Hit Points: 295

Mana: 600

Titles: Far Too Lucky (Bonus System/Loot Options), Furious Killer (Attribute bump when defeating consecutive enemies)

Active Traits: Human, Mana Sensitivity (100% out of 300% augmentation enabled; Enhanced Vulnerability disabled), Adversary Analysis (Perception), Destructive (Strength), Override Engine (Attunement), Evolution is My Weapon (Toughness), Daemonic Mana Influence (Specialty), Daemonic Insight (Specialty), Draconic Insight (Specialty)

Spells: Summon Daemonic Companion

Available Traits:

· Grace (Starter)

· Focus (Starter)

· Mind X 2 (Starter and Standard)

· Strength (Standard)

· Attunement (Standard)

Attributes

Strength – 150

Endurance – 115

Grace – 107

Focus – 100

Mind – 150

Perception – 120

Attunement – 150

Chapter 61: Pound of Flesh

"Dean, we can't use this," she announced, accessing her HUD to pass me a block of text.

Relic Partially Identified

Name: Crown of Encroaching Domination

Properties: Special; See notes

Restriction: This artifact has abilities that unlock based on the number of domination spells you know. The first one is free/already unlocked.

Starting Ability: Provided you are wearing the crown, each time you give an order, command, or suggestion to someone and they willingly follow it, their ability to resist future orders, commands, and suggestions decreases by 1%. If their resistance goes below 30%, they become permanent thralls to your will. If raised from the dead, beings with their willpower so reduced will always obey you. Removing the crown only prevents further erosion of resistance to your domination; all other benefits remain intact.

"That is some truly horrific stuff," I said, recoiling at the implications. "At least with the greatsword, you could theoretically use it for good. This thing seems indiscriminate. A politician or general wearing it would become..."

"A potentially world-ending tyrant," she finished grimly. "We can't bring this back to Earth. It's going straight into the blender."

"Agreed."

She slipped the crown into an inventory pouch, and we made our way into the hall. Directly across from the vault room stood a smooth wall. The lever Contessa had described was at its base, painted to match the surrounding surface. I stepped on it, and the wall slid aside, releasing a billow of ancient, stale air.

Sharon and I paused at the top of the stairwell, evaluating what lay below. The passage was barely five feet wide and seven tall, just enough room for us to walk side-by-side if combat wasn't a concern. It descended at a steep angle for at least twenty feet before the walls transitioned from wood to stone slabs.

Robin's agitation grew more pronounced. He paced behind us, head swiveling toward the vault room and back to the open passage.

We started down, taking three stairs at a time, relying on our magical items and enhanced Grace to avoid slipping. Halfway down, Robin's throat-rattle halted our progress as a solid wall of insects came pouring into view.

"Let me try," Sharon said, gesturing to cast her light spell. It took a beat longer than usual, but unlike in the vault room, the spell worked here. A pearly white light exploded into the center of the swarm, causing the tiny bugs to erupt with the sound of popping corn. Carapaces sizzled and melted as the Analyst cast her spell again, stacking the effect.

Within seconds, the hall cleared enough for us to pass. Robin lunged ahead, slurping up the melted remains.

"That's revolting," Sharon said, nose wrinkling as we passed through a cloud of noxious fumes.

"Robin or the smell?"

"Both."

"Yeah. Agreed. Come on, boy." I snapped my fingers, trying to draw the dinosaur away from his disgusting feast. He followed, but only after acquiring a new adaptation. Chitin now covered portions of his body, glistening red instead of roach black.

Making enthusiastic sounds, he bounded after us, his recent growth apparent in his movement. Instead of matching a large cat, he now resembled a medium-sized dog and took two or three stairs per stride with ease.

As we neared what would hopefully be the end of our undead detour, I found myself comparing what Stephanos, Mr. Fingers, and the cabal had attempted with Earth's mission.

"How many others are out there trying to do what we are?" I asked via telepathy.

"Many," Sharon replied. "Imagine if magic were electricity, and we knew Earth was about to be invaded by a force that would turn it against us. Our scientists would work tirelessly to prevent it. In nearly every record I've seen about worlds like this, at least one prominent group is working on a similar solution. This might be the most innovative approach I've seen, but their method isn't exactly unprecedented."

"The necromancy?"

"Right. The System requires at least some measure of free will to operate. Sure, it rewires adventurers to be competitive, hyper-aggressive, and reward-addicted, but it still lets them choose. Undead have limited choice. It's a natural solution to a complex problem."

I opened and closed my mouth. How was I any different from what she described? True, I could openly oppose the System and had access to various 'hacks' to improve my chances. But setting competitiveness aside, wasn't I becoming everything else she'd just listed?

We passed from the upper levels into the subterranean depths. Smooth stone walls enclosed us with no lights to guide our way. Robin remained just behind, his lantern vision providing enough illumination to warn us of approaching threats.

Sharon took an extra step to move beside me and placed a hand on my arm. "I know what you're thinking. Don't. If all you were was another System puppet, you wouldn't have put protecting me above your own skin. Neither altruism nor compassion appear on its list of idealized traits."

Part of me wanted to argue, to ask what if my desire to protect her had been pragmatic rather than altruistic? I had begun feeling things I rarely experienced before being Activated. I couldn't remember ever enjoying the easy rapport the Lieutenant and I had developed during this mission. But was having fun outside of combat enough to distinguish me from those the System cultivated?

Perhaps the reason it targeted me with oppositional quests was because it recognized something in me that it appreciated.

Our conversation ended as we reached a heavy metal door. Sharon hung back while I switched from the greatsword to the smaller ice blade. Recent use had made it less awkward, given my lack of training, but it still felt unnatural.

The handle clicked quietly, and the door swung open to reveal narrow stone corridors. Sounds echoed from various directions—some from behind us up the stairs, others from somewhere in the catacombs. Chains rattled in one location. In another, the whisper of several bare feet brushed against stone.

Robin's feathers stood on end, his head darting toward multiple sound sources. His eyes glowed brighter as he took a step toward the loudest sound, clearly eager to meet whatever challenges lay beyond his sight.

I put a hand on his head, a silent gesture to remind him to stay on task.

"To the left," Sharon whispered, tension evident in her voice. She’d put on a brave face, but that mask was slipping.

"We'll be out soon," I promised. "We'll collect the phylacteries and go. You've got the pyramid. We can finish this elsewhere."

"It needs to be here. I don't want to take the artifact out again until we return home."

"Right. Forgot about the subtlety requirement. Love that." I didn't love that.

"Good news, like you said, we're almost done. Just a few more minutes and we're out."

Our silent exchange continued as we followed Contessa's instructions, racing past a series of twists and turns until we entered a spacious cavern. Giant braziers affixed to the walls illuminated a polished stone floor cut into the now-familiar checkerboard pattern.

Dozens of tables covered with arcane paraphernalia and assorted heavy equipment filled the center. Multiple large chests of drawers and lacquered tables sat among the gear, offering endless temptations for a would-be thief.

No monsters appeared, though the cacophony of threatening sounds grew louder with each passing minute.

Robin's tension grew until his tail was in a constant state of lashing movement. His claws clicked loudly as he studied the wall where alternative tunnels opened into the cavern.

"Let's do a circuit," Sharon suggested. "I know it's tempting to ransack everything, but we should prioritize our objective."

"Agreed."

We entered cautiously, maintaining formation as we walked around the equipment. A few minutes into our search, we spotted a lone tunnel leading northeast. We confirmed the dark, narrow opening matched the emergency exit Contessa had described. If I'd been alone with a few more levels under my belt, I might have rejected the idea of taking the "easy" way out. But with Sharon to protect, the "last resort" exit had become the "absolutely doing this" option.

"There, I think that's what we need," Sharon announced as we neared the end of our investigation. She pointed to a wooden rack beside a ten-foot-tall black and red obelisk. One side of the rack held vials. The other contained three diamond-shaped gemstones.

"Counting the crown, that’ll give us two blessings each," I said, approaching the rack and obelisk. Within thirty feet of the stone structure, I felt an aura of glacial cold that made my hands tremble and left me wondering why my breath wasn't visible.

Closer to the object, I noticed triangular slices cut into each face, with a ten-inch-diameter hole in the precise center. "It's a larger version of the pyramid. Should we use this instead?"

"Bigger isn't always better." Sharon, close behind me, attempted her prediction spell. The first try almost succeeded. On her second attempt, it did. "In this case, yes. Bigger is better."

"Will this fit in your inventory pouch?"

"Not a chance."

Nearing our objective, I took the opportunity to examine the instruments lining the nearby tables. All looked quite advanced, even by Earth standards. Glass beakers bore uniform markings, while knives, tuning forks, and countless other tools had a bespoke quality about them.

“If we were playing Dungeons and Dragons, I’d say all this gear is Masterwork quality,” I observed.

“At least,” Sharon agreed.

We arrived at our destination, coming to a stop in front of the rack.

The three phylacteries were identical in size, perfectly symmetric, nearly a foot long and half as wide. Each was crafted from black material reminiscent of the metal used in the Counterstrike base.

"I'm going first," Sharon declared, picking up one of the gems.

"Why you?"

"Because if this is a trap, you're the only one with the skills we need to escape. I'm the more expendable resource right now."

"I hate when you use logic to get your way." Stepping back, I switched back to the greatsword. With its superior reach and affinity for undead, only my gauntlet would serve better in this situation, but that had limited time remaining. "Get a healing salve ready, just in case."

"Got it," she replied, following my advice by retrieving one from her personal stores. I noted with approval that it appeared to be one of the greater varieties. At her level, anything weaker would prove ineffective.

Robin's claws clicked against the stone floor as he jumped onto a nearby table. He twisted his head back and forth, keeping one eye on Sharon while scanning the room. His throat clicking grew more insistent as his gaze fixed on the shadowy entrances.

She inserted the phylactery into an opening on the obelisk. The symbols on her chosen face illuminated, and a burst of aqua and green energy enveloped her hand. She winced, describing what was happening.

"My HUD froze. I hear a voice. It’s welcoming me. Says that it’s spent ages recharging and is ready to serve once more. Apparently, there’s some extra-special reward waiting if we activate all four sides? It says the standard functions are all available and is letting me choose a blessing of domination or necromancy."

A swirling pattern of black, tattoo-like ink materialized over her arm, above her clothing. She yelped as it penetrated the fabric, and she pulled back. Her face paled as she staggered toward the table. "That felt...bizarre. Like someone crammed new information into my brain. It hurts." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "I have memories of practicing the spell, but nothing else, not even successfully casting it. It's as if a fragment of someone else's life was etched into my mind."

"That doesn't sound pleasant."

"It's not." Leaning against the table beside Robin, she exhaled slowly, eyes narrowed as she worked through the pain. "I selected a spell called Dying Details. The voice said it's analytical in nature and useful for gathering information about the dying or dead. The other options didn’t sound as appetizing."

Several tense seconds passed before she lowered her hand. Her eyes shifted to one side. "There. My HUD is functioning again. Parasite code will translate the spell into System text once I cast it, but the details won't be perfect unless I deliberately convert it. There's a warning. If I don't convert it, casting will always be more difficult and time-consuming."

"Sounds familiar." Noting her pained expression, I added, "Are you certain you want the second one now? We know there aren't any traps, at least not yet. I could take a turn, give you a breather?"

She seemed about to argue, then grabbed a phylactery and offered it to me. “We should have started with the crown. I’ll make it my second blessing.”

Accepting the gem, I leaned the greatsword against the table so it would be nearby if I needed it. The sound of chains rattling briefly echoed through the cave, as if the owner wanted me to speed up.

Moving to the same side Sharon had used, I noticed the entire face still glowed. "Special rewards sound cool," I mused, observing how the sides connected to form a greater pattern.

"Are you going to make me cast a spell to see if that's a good idea?"

I flashed my most innocent expression. "What if we earn some sort of Abyss-tier title for lighting it all the way up?"

"What?"

"You know, the tier above Void."

"There is no tier above Void."

"That you know of." I grinned. "Have I shared my motto yet?"

"No, and hold that thought. Let me check if our chances of completing the quest improve or worsen by activating all sides." She attempted her predictive spell again. It took three tries this time. When it did, she shook her head emphatically. "Terrible idea. Activating all four sides all-but guarantees failure."

"Good to know." I nearly shoved the gem into the same opening she'd used when a nagging suspicion surfaced. Scanning the chamber, I strained to detect movement near any entrance. After a moment, I spotted at least three pairs of glowing yellow eyes lurking in the shadows.

Robin's agitation suddenly made perfect sense.

"Damn it. I knew this was too easy. It's a trap. They want us to activate all four sides."

Sharon followed my gaze, quickly comprehending. "And if we don’t, they’ll attack?"

"Sounds right. Do you think we have to use all four sides for the blessings?”

“Good question.” She cast a quick spell, attention sliding to her HUD. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Guess we’ll need to be smart about not activating the last one. Keep watch, I'll try to be quick." I moved to an unlit face and inserted the phylactery into the opening.

Chapter 62: Spells and Blessings

A wave of weakness swept over me as my HUD vanished. I wondered which other abilities had also been removed when a cruel-sounding man's voice spoke into my mind.

"Lucky, are you? Today, there is luck for both of us. Long have we waited, marshaling our strength. Once more, we shall serve. Petitioner, I call upon you to unleash us. Bring to life the remaining sides of this Instrumentum Benedictionis and the outcome will be beyond comprehension. Now, choose your blessing: Domination or Necromancy?"

Having no strong inclination for either, I went with the first. "Domination."

"Excellent choice. Your three spell options are Word of Command, Commandeer Undead, or Drain Willpower. Choose."

"Do I get an idea of what they do?"

"The first is precisely as it sounds, as is the second. The third would allow you to reduce someone's resistance to your commands permanently. It's the perfect choice to gain a slave or thrall."

The decision was easy. Commandeer Undead seemed too niche and Drain Willpower would suit an entirely different type of adventurer. "Word of Command."

A rush of foreign memories shoved into my mind, triggering a migraine. Vision blurring, I staggered as I felt what it was to properly learn old magic. It took months of practice, focusing and shaping intention. Non-verbal words accompanied the spell, ones I'd need to concentrate on when casting.

In that moment, I gained a stark appreciation for the distinction between System magic and its traditional counterpart.

I slammed into the table, hip taking the brunt of the impact, as Sharon steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. An arctic blast surged through my skull, countering the headache with sublime ease. I gawked at the feeling of rightness emanating from an all-new sensation that lodged itself between my temples.

It was precisely as we'd hoped: knowing an old magic spell had tangible benefits.

"It worked," I said, taking a breath to check my bloody arms for signs of new marks to indicate the blessing. There were none. As I thought of it, my palm tingled, as if to indicate just how little my pet daemon thought of something else marking me.

Grinning, I tapped my forehead. "I can feel it."

Sharon did not return my relief. If anything, she looked more worried.

I asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just hate this place. Remind me when we get home that I’ll never do a horror-themed quest with you ever again."

“Will do.”

She extracted the crown and moved to the third side.

I held up my hand. "Wait. If the fourth triggers an attack, shouldn't you go last?"

"Like I said, if I’d thought it through, I would have done the crown first. You can’t get a spell from sacrificing it, but we have to guarantee this thing is destroyed." She glanced around the chamber. "That means it goes next, in case they interrupt before you get that second spell. Do you have a better strategy?"

It hurt to say the words, but I did it anyway. "I could skip the second blessing."

"If something happens to me, you're the one who can finish this quest. The most logical approach is for us each to have two blessings.”

She had a point. I frowned, scanning the room. More eyes had appeared—white, yellow, and one blue-green pair big enough to belong to a giant. "We need more time."

"We don't have it."

I pointed at her inventory pouch. "The mana gems. Can we set them to blow at a specific moment?"

"Sort of. I can use mana to activate a delayed trigger, but it won't be precise."

“Do you know how big the explosions will be?” We’d need something significant enough to cover the half-dozen tunnels leading to the chamber.

“Very. Okaku intended to use them as weapons of mass destruction against the population. All that mana inside the gems will transmute into the equivalent of two or three tons of TNT when it goes up. The blast radius and backblast should be enough to affect at least forty feet.”

That might be enough. “Think they will kill ghosts, too?”

“Should, yeah. It’ll be based in magic. Any incorporeal creatures it doesn’t kill will get blown away.”

“Okay. That gives us something to work with.” I focused, trying to find a strategy that might get us out of here. "Get three out. Have them ready. You go ahead with your blessing. Before I do my final one, prime one with a short timer and the other two with slightly longer ones to mop up anything that comes after. I’m thinking that we just need to buy an extra thirty seconds, a minute tops. Blasts that big should buy us a window to escape."

"Sounds like a plan." She placed three booby-trapped gems on the table.

"It'll definitely work," I said reassuringly.

Robin's tail lashed as he added, "Definitely."

Moving to the third side, she thrust the crown into the aperture. This time, she made her selection without commentary. A second swirling pattern, this one bright red, appeared over her arm. As the previous mark had, it sank through her clothes. Her knees buckled as light burst from that side. I caught her just as she began to seize.

When she came back to herself, I asked, "What spell did that?"

She steadied herself on my arm. "Not a spell. Permanent effect. I'm immune to almost all types of mind-control now. Even better, I can touch someone and free them from any Domination effect."

"What memories came with it?"

"Not memories." She shook her head. "We need to finish. Ready?"

"Are you?" I turned to Robin. "Can you grab one of those gems with your tail? She'll prime it. You lob it when she says to."

"Lob," he echoed, doing exactly that.

Sharon wiped her mouth and did something to reinforce the enchantment on her cloak. The glowing effect intensified, making her outline blurry. "Make it look like you'll go to the deactivated side, then hit the previous one fast. Timing is everything."

"Sure." I grabbed the final phylactery and greatsword, striding toward the final dark side. I felt more than heard a collective inhalation from the tunnels.

Deciding I'd want the Unforged Gauntlet for whatever came next, I stowed the sword and summoned the gauntlet. As it slid into place, I darted to an already-lit side and shoved the phylactery inside.

"Ah, fortunate one, you have returned," the voice whispered. "A shame you have not chosen to fulfill our request. No doubt, things will work out soon enough. The artifact is primed. Someone will come through and complete the ritual sooner or later. Now, choose: Domination or Necromancy?"

"Necromancy," I snapped. "And hurry."

"Hurry? You don't want that. My role is to pick a fitting spell. You wouldn't want something contrary to your nature, would you?"

Footsteps, chains, and echoing howls rose from the tunnels. Sharon yelled, "Robin, now!"

KAFWOOOOM!

Hand still inside the aperture, an invisible force clamped down on my arm. The blast would have knocked me off my feet if the obelisk hadn't held me in place. As it was, my shoulder nearly dislocated from the wrenching force.

The voice, speaking with maddening slowness, said, "Your choices are Walk Within Dead, Corpse Flower, or Possess Interior."

From the corner of my eye, I saw a robed figure materialize fifteen feet away. Two blue gems burned inside a pitch-black cowl as it raised twisted black wands in each hand. My HUD labeled the monster Greater Lich (Elite Cabal Member).

The lich paused, its cowl turning deliberately from Sharon to Robin, then to me. For an impossible moment, the chamber fell silent. The undead sorcerer weighed its options, glowing eyes lingering on each of us before settling on me with cold finality.

"Possess Interior," I shouted, trying to wrench my arm free.

Twin bolts of blue-green energy thick as my wrist erupted from the wands. To my adrenaline-fueled perceptions, the attacks looked almost suspended in air.

Possess Interior slid into my brain as a burning knife. My arm fell free, numb, as I tried to dive clear. In agony, System benefits offline, and my mind flooded with alien memories, my body refused to respond.

"Dean!" Sharon shouted.

Through a haze, I witnessed the unthinkable.

My friend dove into me, slamming me to the ground. I rolled at just the right angle to see how wrong I'd been.

The lich's bolts weren't slow at all.

Both struck her with full force, her body momentarily vanishing as the energies appeared to consume her.

Chapter 63: Cracks

Sharon's skin flashed with churning mystic energies, turning rubbery and translucent as she collapsed onto my chest. Her body seized with unnatural violence, each spasm tearing through my heart.

Through my peripheral vision, I caught Robin tackling the lich, his tail whipping around to slap the wands aside before it could summon another pair of those destructive bolts.

Half of me was trapped in fresh spell memories, suspended between receiving the blessing and the System reasserting its influence. The rest struggled desperately to move, to do anything but lie there as Sharon died.

The Unforged Gauntlet pulsed against my arm. I looked down to see my hand wrapped around Sharon's wrist, my scar throbbing as a gentle, sweeping rush poured from somewhere beyond comprehension.

My HUD glitched into view, font garbled and barely legible. All save three words, outlined in orange, red, and green that pulsed with an aura as they filled my vision:

You Are Activated.

A font of energy and strength poured into me, freeing me from paralysis. With deliberate care, I eased Sharon to the side. Her seizures had stopped, an orange hue suffusing her skin. Her eyes remained open, face locked in a rictus of agony. The concealment spell was gone, returning her to her natural state, silver haired and small.

Small and utterly defenseless.

I moved without thinking, hand stretching toward where my companion desperately distracted the lich.

The Demolition Sphere became an extension of my will, summoned and projected in a single breath. It flew, drawing my focus to where Robin clung to the monster's shoulders, doing little damage.

The sphere churned into the cabal member’s chest, razor sharp blades slicing through robes and bone. Curling my fingers, I lifted my fist. At my command, the sphere hollowed out the ancient mage’s torso. It dropped a wand, attempting to cast a spell, but Robin's tail constricted around its skeletal arm tight enough to disrupt the incantation.

At my feet, Sharon shifted. I glanced down to see tears forming in her unblinking eyes, a brittle whimper escaping her locked jaws.

CRACK!

My knuckles popped with the thunderous sound of a shotgun blast as I clenched my fist.

CRRRRRACK!

The lich's head ejected from its shoulders like it was spring loaded. Robin pounced, clawing the blue eyes free and swallowing them greedily.

I turned, recalling the sphere as I assessed our situation. The bombs had worked better than expected, half the cavern was simply gone. Fires licked over wooden remnants while dismembered undead littered the ground.

A pile of rocks shifted at one tunnel entrance as blue flame kindled through the gaps. Countless shadows moved beyond the barrier, and a beam of moonlight appeared in one corner of the cavern.

"Robin, go," I directed, pointing at the emerging threat.

My companion, grown to the size of a mastiff, tore across the room, blue gem light shining from between his teeth.

I readied the Sphere when a pulsing glow drew my attention to the two remaining bombs. Something, maybe Mana Sensitivity coupled with my active class, told me they'd detonate within seconds.

Looking from the bombs to Sharon's transparent skin, I found myself at a precipice.

I could toss the bombs at the monsters and carve through as many as possible. With Robin at my side, we'd be able to escape the catacombs. That would mean leaving Sharon behind. It was the logical move, one I might have chosen during a tabletop game.

Am I just a killer? Was Gost right?

The alternative was carrying her down the escape tunnel, wasting precious time and energy to keep her safe while fending off pursuers.

She didn't have to come to this planet. Without her, I'd be dead already.

Two truths balanced on a knife edge: the man I'd been born as, someone easily mistaken for the System's ideal adventurer; and whatever nebulous alternative there was.

I am no hero, I told myself. Heroes don't laugh when they kill.

A second thought, quieter but no less certain, undercut the first.

Sharon is my friend.

She is mine to protect.

Nine simple words, and I knew what I had to do.

I grabbed the mana gems and took aim. In those brief seconds of introspection, the source of blue light had torn through the rubble, scattering stone like bowling pins to clear a path for the undead horde.

A fifteen-foot monstrosity emerged, an amalgamation of skeleton, zombie, and other parts. A giant's torso with draconic arms and backward bending frog legs. Steel reinforced ribs housed something that beat with the rhythmic force of thunder.

Eerily quiet, it took one look at me, then spread its arms. Contessa’s warnings of defenders had clearly been an understatement, as skeletons, zombies, and a variety of other embodied creatures came shambling forward.

More ghosts appeared, although to my relief they didn’t flow through the floors or walls. As they floated over chunks of blasted cavern rock, I guessed some sort of spell must have blocked them from such a simple solution.

I inhaled deeply and threw the first bomb directly at the giant's rib cage. Without waiting to see if it hit, I hurled the second into one of the lit holes in the obelisk, where it hovered over empty black space.

Bending down, I lifted Sharon's limp body over my shoulder and sprinted toward the escape tunnel. "Robin, come!"

There was a flash of motion, red and orange, as he tore through not one yellow-eyed monster but two, his claws now long enough to masquerade as short swords making quick work of them. Then he was on the way.

I was at the tunnel entrance in just a few seconds. Pausing long enough to turn and assess the horde, I saw half a dozen unfamiliar creatures closing on our flanks. These looked like little pot bellied blue devils with long, corkscrew horns. My HUD labeled them Gravediggers (Nimble).

Adjusting Sharon on my shoulder, I extended my hand. A roar of frustration and rage clawed free of my throat as the Demolition Sphere shot away, pulling my mind with it. The ball smacked into the closest creature, burrowed through its distended stomach and continued its trajectory with almost no lost velocity.

I guided the spinning wheel of destruction from one to the next, mowing them down like chaff. And with each one that fell, my Strength, Endurance, and Grace grew.

With our closest pursuers dealt with, I recalled the sphere and resumed our flight. Robin’s lantern adaptation revealed up to sixty feet of the tunnel, making it far easier to navigate the uneven floor.

BOOOOOOOM! KRRRRRAAAAAAK

Twin explosions echoed behind us. The second released a pulse of old magic so powerful I wondered if my back would have freezer burns afterward.

The System accepted each of those kills for Furious Killer. Just like that, I’d gained an extra 60% bonus to my core physical attributes.

Determined to use the thirty-second boost to its fullest advantage, I poured the speed on. Ahead, a flash of light preceded a grinning nightgaunt. “My kill!” I shouted, sending the sphere zooming ahead of us.

The gaunt vanished, only to reappear as the spinning metal struck its invisible form an instant later. Focusing my will, I sent the weapon burrowing through the monster. Against a person armed with a regular weapon and no ability to see it, the monster would have been unstoppable. Stripped of its advantages, the creature was hardly a challenge for the Unforged Gauntlet.

We traveled for a solid minute without encountering any other monsters before the uneven ground began sloping upward. Thinking that we might have escaped the worst, I put the gauntlet away to preserve its remaining time.

As if on cue, Robin rattled a warning just before his guide lights winked out.

Combat Summary and Character Update

Dean Versus Greater Lich (Elite Cabal Member), Gravediggers, Various Undead Swarm

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: Sharon has been cursed and is dying

Awards: 14,050 experience points.

Character Update:

● Enhancements Gained: Necromantic and Dominion Blessings (with the associated spells; review closely to begin the identification process)

Chapter 64: Escape

Wrapping an arm around Sharon, I spun to see Robin buried beneath a writhing mass of giant rats. He was thirty feet away, his body stretched across the tunnel like a living barricade. The rodents' eyes glowed with an unnatural white light as they clawed and bit at my companion. The sound of their squealing echoed against the stone walls, a dissonant chorus punctuated by Robin's hisses.

Despite the onslaught, he fought fearlessly. His chitinous armor, the only thing keeping him from being torn to shreds, glistened wetly in the darkness as he thrashed. Claws slashed, teeth snapped, and his tail lashed through the air with deadly precision. For every ten he killed, twenty more surged forward, their small bodies creating a rippling carpet of fur and teeth.

"Sharon." he called, voice garbled around a mouthful of rat.

The implication hit me, a sledgehammer to the gut. My companion understood he could be resummoned if he died.

The daemon, a creature that should have been incapable of knowing the value of life, had placed Sharon's life above his own.

I assessed our situation, the weight of Sharon against my shoulder reminding me of her deteriorating condition. Logic dictated leaving Robin behind. His adaptations would be lost, but that was a relatively low price for our freedom. Yet something deep within me rebelled against this pragmatism.

"I'm not going anywhere without both of you," I growled, the words scraping my throat as I drew an Anguish Scythe from my inventory pouch. The weapon's blade sawtooth edge designed to inflict agony upon the opponent.

With Sharon secured against my shoulder, I charged forward. The scythe carved through the swarm in wide, vicious arcs. The effect was instantaneous, not just on the rats I struck, but on all of them. A collective shriek rose from the horde as the weapon's magic rippled through their connected consciousness.

It felt good until I realized that I’d also drawn their attention.

The creatures redirected their frenzy toward me, leaping with surprising force. Each the size of a house cat, they slammed against my legs and chest. The stench of wet fur filled my nostrils as I spun to keep Sharon away from their snapping jaws.

Blood trickled down my calves as tiny teeth found purchase. I stomped and kicked, each impact transforming rodents into roadkill. My stellar Strength score compensated with my lack of expertise: even when I didn’t cut through them evenly, the width of the blade struck with enough force to smash them against the cave’s walls. The results vaguely resembled a smashed pizza. One with extra meatballs.

Furious Killer’s timer had run out during the flight, not that I’d noticed. I did note when it kicked back in, after I’d killed at least fifty of the damn things, as if the System didn’t consider so few of them a ‘worthy’ threat. A thousand points of fire, where teeth and claws had gouged skin, belied that assertion.

Ignoring the pain was effortless: Robin needed me, and nothing would stop me from doing whatever it took to save him.

The distraction my scythe provided gave him the breathing room he’d needed. My companion rose, transformed by combat. Blood-slick and terrible, he'd become a cyclone of destruction. He twisted and spun, claws, teeth, and tail leaving no opponent left alive.

We’d never fought together properly, not like this. I hadn’t even begun to learn how to work with a team of other humans, much less a daemon. Yet with every second that passed, whatever bond connected us seemed to deepen as we learned one another’s rhythms.

It became like fighting with another, dinosaur-flavored, version of myself.

Two rats leapt from my shoulder toward Sharon. I pivoted to swing the scythe, but Robin was faster. Without missing a beat in his own battle, his tail cracked through the air with surgical precision, knocking both creatures away before they could reach her.

When a fresh wave approached, Robin slashed with his claws, eliminating the vanguard. As survivors pressed through, he swept them aside with his tail, clustering targets for my scythe. Borrowing a note from his playbook, I mimicked his slashing technique, turning into the motion to enhance every swing.

By working together, we’d killed another sixty in a matter of heartbeats.

The rats changed tactics, recognizing Sharon as our vulnerability. They began coordinated leaps, sacrificing themselves in mindless attempts to reach her. Robin adjusted, hopping in place to extend his tail's reach while I bent my knees, giving him clearer targets as I swept the floor with broad strokes.

Minutes stretched into what seemed nothing other than an eternity of blood, fur, and movement. The tunnel floor became slick with viscera, the coppery tang of blood mixing with the musty odor of the swarm. Gradually, the tide turned. Rat bodies littered the passage in grisly heaps.

Finally, there were no fresh threats for us to deal with.

Robin's practical nature asserted itself as he devoured the fallen, each mouthful visibly accelerating his healing. Wounds closed before my eyes, and his mass increased slightly with each gulp. The wet, crunching sounds of his feast echoed in the tunnel.

In the distance, chains rattled ominously. A flicker of blue fire appeared at the far end of the passage, accompanied by the shuffle of approaching feet.

"We have to go," I said, not waiting for a response as I stowed the scythe and resumed our escape. Blood streaked my arms and legs, and my muscles protested with each movement, but there was no time to rest.

I ran blindly for several seconds, the magic in my boots preventing falls until Robin caught up. His lantern lights illuminated a steep incline ahead, ending at a set of carved stone steps. A simple iron lever protruded from the wall.

Twisting to keep Sharon protected, I pulled the lever with my free hand. Moonlight spilled into the tunnel as an ancient door swung outward, revealing a meadow flanked by tall trees. Cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of clover and damp earth.

I stumbled through the opening with Robin close behind, then turned to seal our escape. Through the doorway, I caught a glimpse of yellow, white, and blue eyes approaching in the darkness. The hatred radiating from them matched the fury building in my chest. My fingers twitched with the desire to return and finish them all.

Pushing against the practical violence of that impulse, I heaved the heavy door shut. It connected with the iron frame with a decisive thud, followed by a pulse of cold magic. The entire entrance shimmered briefly, then vanished into the hillside as if it had never existed.

With no immediate threats in sight, I gently lowered Sharon onto the moss-covered ground. Her condition had worsened dramatically, the skin and underlying muscles turning translucent in patches. The outline of bones showed through in places, yellowed and glowing beneath the night sky.

Kneeling beside her, I retrieved one of my three remaining high-grade healing salves and applied it. Relief washed over me as her muscles reappeared, followed by stretches of skin. Encouraged, I added all four of my remaining moderate healing salves I'd taken from the takaltu.

As the final salve dissolved into her system, Sharon gasped. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused but aware. "Water," she whispered hoarsely. "Need water."

I uncapped a flask from my inventory pouch and supported her head with one hand while I helped her drink. Most of it spilled down her chin as her throat spasmed, but she managed to swallow a bit.

"Look," she communicated telepathically, her gaze shifting meaningfully toward my HUD.

The status update made my blood run cold.

Status: Affected by a Necroplasm Transformation Curse

Summary: This curse is converting your body into necroplasm. When it finishes, you will become an ethereal undead controlled by the System. There is no currently known cure for this curse, nor are there any nearby adventurers who could do so even if they wanted.

Details: The initial spell converted 25% of your mass. System healing has reversed the transformation and can continue to arrest the process, but will not prevent its spread. Your heightened Attunement has slowed the ongoing conversion. 1% of your mass will continue to become necroplasm every 5-10 minutes. The curse will gradually accelerate over time. You will experience Attribute degradation as the percentage climbs, with sickness, numbness, dizziness, and other negative states stacking on top of one another until you become unconscious.

Parasite Insight: If you return to Earth and enter a low-magic area, the curse should end. However, any converted biomass will liquefy. Ending the curse in that way with more than 5% of your mass converted into Necroplasm is likely to be fatal.

"Fuck that," I muttered, reading the diagnosis twice. The words settled in my stomach with leaded weight.

Sharon's mental voice strained through our telepathic connection. "I have eight modest healing salves, and another five of the greater in my pouch. That should be enough to keep me going. If I'm conscious when the event ends, the System will send me to my Crossroads before returning to Earth. I can hold one or two in reserve and apply them just as we teleport home. It should work out. I’ve set my pouch to allow you access, so if I go unconscious, you can apply them."

Our eyes met in mutual understanding beneath the moonlight. The path forward was clear: I had to find the remaining adventurers and kill them before Sharon ran out of time.

"The other adventurers will have healing supplies, right?" I asked, already plotting our next move.

"They should. And I have the earring." Her trembling fingers brushed the regeneration earring we'd taken from Jasteel.

"The assassin was in the forest northeast of the city, according to Fingers." I nodded toward the trees surrounding us. "We're northeast already. We might be able to hunt them down before you lose too much strength."

"Sounds like an idea." She attempted a laugh that emerged as a wet, painful sound. "The description doesn't do this justice. It's the worst flu I've ever had times ten." She inhaled shakily, eyes closing briefly. "Why was I stupid enough to jump in the way?"

"Isn't that my question?" I countered softly.

Rather than answering, she licked her parched lips. "More water. Then I'll cast a spell to help find the assassin."

I helped her drink again and supported her as she sat up straighter. Her skin was already beginning to turn again, with patches of muscle and ligament becoming visible across her neck and arms. With visible effort, she cast her predictive spell, then frowned at whatever results appeared in her HUD. She cast it again and shook her head in frustration.

"There's interference," she said. "Could be the curse. Could be magical items. I can tell we're in roughly the right area, but that's it."

"Let me try." I kept one arm around her shoulders while retrieving the pouch Gost had given me. I set aside the arrow dice, we'd need those to find the treasury entrance, and gathered the remaining symbols and patterns. The dice tumbled across the moss, creating a pattern that resembled a dinosaur before one vanished.

"Damn. I should have thought of that," I said, suddenly feeling foolish.

"What?" Sharon shifted against my arm, shivering despite the mild night air.

"Who needs a hunting spell when you have a daemon dinosaur as a companion." I turned toward my transformed companion, who had grown substantially from the feast. He now stood nearly pony-sized, his body largely covered in dull red chitin, though tufts of fur and feathers still peeked through in places.

The changes to his appearance would probably shift his look from intimidating-yet-adorable to horrifying-yet-terrifying for most people, but I didn’t mind it at all.

Partially facing the forest, Robin flicked one orange-red eye toward Sharon and me. There was an intelligence in that gaze that went beyond animal instinct. It might have been concern.

"We need to find the clovash and okaku nearby," I told him. "If you remember, I summoned you after killing an okaku, so the smell might be similar. Think you can help?"

His jaws parted, revealing rows of jagged black teeth that gleamed with reflected starlight. "Robin. Kill," he rumbled, his voice now deeper, more menacing.

"Robin, hunt," I corrected, gesturing toward the woods.

His lantern adaptation extinguished, rendering him nearly invisible against the night. With a deep, predatory rattle, he vanished into the trees as if he’d been waiting for the invitation.

Sharon leaned against me, a weak laugh escaping her lips. "When did he get so big?" Her frigid hand pressed against my chest, causing her to start in surprise. Her eyes focused with effort. "Dean, you can't fight anything. Not until you heal."

I dismissed her concerns without checking my HUD. I didn't need the System to tell me I was in rough shape. Unlike Robin, I couldn't accelerate my recovery by consuming enemies.

"It'll be fine," I assured her, rising to my feet and offering my hand. "Walk or get carried?"

"I...I can walk for a minute or two. I think."

She managed a few unsteady steps before nearly collapsing. Recognizing she couldn't possibly keep pace, I shook my head and lifted her over one shoulder.

Instead of protesting as I'd expected, she murmured with genuine concern, "Oh, Dean. Your back. How are you even moving?"

I didn't ask what she saw. It didn’t matter.

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Rat Swarm

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: 75 hit points

Awards: 400 experience points.

Chapter 65: Forced March

My night vision adjusted quickly. Enhanced Perception paired with the brilliant stars and moon overhead gave me clarity comparable to early twilight on Earth. Scanning our surroundings, I spotted where the ground darkened just north of the tree line. Beyond that, pinpricks of light reflected off what had to be standing water.

The air carried the acrid tang of decay and stagnant water. "That's right," I murmured, "there's a swamp this way."

"And monsters," Sharon reminded me. "That okaku got sick looking for the treasury. Do you want my cloak?"

"What will protect you if I take it?"

The silence that followed was answer enough.

Dismissing the idea with a grunt, I turned to follow Robin's trail into the trees. Though we lacked a telepathic bond, our elemental connection provided a vague sense of his location and intent. I slipped into a meditative state to better track him, mindful of Sharon's weight across my shoulder.

I maintained a deliberate pace, knowing Robin might need to change direction multiple times before catching his quarry's scent. With each step, the pungent smell of the swamp grew stronger. Its scent was like rotting vegetation, sulfurous mud, and something else entirely that reminded me of fermented fruit.

Against my shoulder, I could feel the progression of Sharon's curse, a malevolent chill seeping through her body. The sensation only hardened my resolve. If my only value was hitting things, I was determined to find whoever I needed to hit to save her life.

"Can't believe you didn't just leave me," Sharon murmured telepathically, her mental voice a little distant. "Your profile indicated you'd take the practical approach. Nothing logical in saving me."

I navigated around a knot of twisted roots, stepping carefully over a patch of phosphorescent fungi.

"Your sensei said you never helped anyone up after a match," she continued. "He said you were like clay inside. Unless it was Brian, you didn't care how badly you hurt anyone, or if they needed help."

"Who would help you up in a real fight?" The words left my mouth automatically, an argument I'd made countless times. "When you're trying to kill someone, restraint is a luxury. It's about who's standing at the end."

"Then what made you save me?" Sharon persisted. "For all you knew, I was going to die."

I ducked beneath a low-hanging branch dripping with something that smelled faintly of cinnamon. "You and Robin both. Acting like I matter more than you. What's with that?"

"Robin? What does he have to do with it?"

My boots hovered above the loamy ground as I described the rat swarm and Robin's sacrifice. "They had glowing white eyes, a shared mind or something. When I went to save him, he said your name. Like the asshole thought I'd just abandon him."

"You can just re-summon it," she countered, her words slurring. "Familiars are disposable."

"He can still feel pain." The heat in my voice surprised even me. "He's not some NPC. Listen, I don't give a flying fuck about your personality tests or what people said about me. If you think I'll let my friends die, then you are dead wrong."

"I’m not dead yet."

The trail led us around a stand of moss-covered trees. Their trunks twisted upward like arthritic fingers clawing at the sky. Several shapes moved among the branches, crawling out of a suppurating, fungus-covered hole in the side.

I eyed the potential threats as I replied, "You won't die. It. Won’t. Happen."

Her arm shifted against my shoulder, the skin peeling away with a tacky sound from my clotting blood. Ignoring the gore, she patted my side. "You're a barbarian. And I'm an analyst. We don't have a healer. Remember?"

"I'll find one. And I'll punch them until they heal you."

Her laughter was fragile, like cracking ice.

The forest grew denser as we veered more to the south, gradually moving away from the thick, cloying odors of the swamp. When we came to an area where the waters grew entirely opaque, a series of thudding crashes came from one side.

My connection to Robin intensified over the next few minutes until his shadow emerged from between two cypress trees. Blood glistened on his jaws, and he'd grown again, gaining several more inches at the shoulders. His ten-foot-long tail lashed through the humid air, pointing deeper into the forest.

"Hiss," he intoned, the sound carrying easily through the night.

"Close?" I asked.

He tilted his head, contemplating my question. From a daemon's perspective, 'close' might be measured in light years.

After a moment, he bobbed his head and turned, stalking between the trees. His tail continued its rhythmic movement, guiding us toward our target.

Bzzzz!

The warning came a half-second before two shadows plummeted from the canopy. Robin twisted with unnatural speed, intercepting one between his jaws. Sharon's weight slowed my reaction—I barely had the Sword of Freezing Punition drawn before the second creature struck.

A needle of pain lanced into my neck as the buzzing intensified. Sharon pushed weakly at our attacker, managing only to force it back a few inches.

Twisting against the flare of pain, I slashed awkwardly at the creature. My HUD labeled it a Madness Spreading Marshquito as my blade cleaved it in half. Ichor splattered across my already blood-crusted shirt.

"That's not good." I spun to check for additional threats, a momentary wave of dizziness there, then gone in a flash. Remembering previous encounters, I checked my combat log. It was one long list of resistance checks.

You have resisted infectious rat tumors. You have resisted infectious necromantic parasites. You have resisted scabies. The list continued, culminating with: You have resisted Marshquito Madness.

"You okay?" Sharon's voice was barely audible over the chorus of frogs and insects.

"Fine." I shared the information about my resistances.

"Focus on the madness effect," she instructed. "See if the Parasite code offers more details."

Green text materialized in response.

Parasite Insight: This highly infectious, magical disease would have initially manifested as debilitating illness. After several hours, you would rouse with no apparent side-effects. Then the madness would kick in, rendering you uncontrollably violent.

"That would have been unfortunate," she observed dryly when I reported on the findings.

"Good thing my class is active. That Attunement bonus probably saved my hide."

Her snort conveyed volumes.

"What?" I adjusted her weight, the fresh wound on my neck throbbing.

"Classes normally activate for brief, specific periods." Each word cost her effort. "Dean, you're literally so stubborn, you've classified not being able to cure me as a 'restrictive' force. I don't even know how that's possible."

"Why does that feel like an insult? I should be grateful you didn't accuse me of fisting the System."

Her sides flexed against my shoulder with silent laughter that transformed into a groan of pain.

Ahead, Robin angled down a slope leading away from the swamp's edge. The trees thinned, revealing a distant pinprick of light, one too controlled to be natural. Though too far to make out details in the darkness, instinct told me we'd found our target.

"I've got three starter traits left," I said, still using telepathy to maintain silence. "Is this a good time to roll for one?"

She didn't respond immediately. Then, with a sigh, she admitted. “Yes, actually. Focus. Three strong options become available if you're down to ten percent of your hit points or less and in a situation like this. You might as well get one of the lesser traits, too, while you’re at it. Strength, probably. I'd get them after you fight the clovash, assuming that's your plan. The System tends to grow even more generous after impossible victories."

"You say that like you expect me to die."

"I expect us both to die," she said matter-of-factly. "Though I'll be pleasantly surprised if you can headbutt your way out of this."

The conversation ended as we approached. At five hundred feet, I made out the details of a small encampment—a smokeless fire, a leather bedroll, and a wall of foliage strategically positioned to mask the flames from Thanderkand's direction.

A nondescript wudgie sat cross-legged before what I initially mistook for a mud-covered statue. As we drew closer, recognition dawned. Not a statue at all; it was the imprisoned okaku. Insects crawled over his frozen form, glinting in the firelight.

"I need to put you down," I told Sharon telepathically.

Her head bobbed weakly against my shoulder.

I lowered her carefully at the base of two intertwined trees. The curse had progressed, and was nearly half as bad as when we'd first escaped the catacombs. Remembering how many hit points she had, I realized keeping her relatively healthy would be just as daunting as killing all of our rivals.

Reaching to her side, I withdrew one of her greater healing salves and applied it. After a moment's hesitation, I used my last one on myself.

Ambitious or not, challenging a level eighteen assassin without some physical reserve would be suicidal.

System magic seared across my skin in a wash of battery acid, closing hundreds of tiny punctures and slices.

Sharon gave me an approving smile. "There you go. Using logic at last." She shifted, fingers fumbling with the clasp of her cloak. "It’s time for you to wear this. I'll cast invisibility. The cloak will ignore most physical attacks. That should give you an edge."

I started to protest, but her glare stopped me cold.

"The clovash aren't opponents you can underestimate," she insisted. "This creature might be only level eighteen, but he'll be optimally equipped and skilled. Even my cloak won't help long, but if it saves you from one attack, it's worth it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "If you die, so do I."

Accepting the cloak, I received its description:

Claudia's Cloak of Consternation

Historical Context: Claudia was a magical genius who also happened to enjoy playing pranks on everyone. That lasted until one of the Dukakarie Lords got tired of her whimsy. This cloak was part of a set. Collect them all to earn a unique set bonus!

Details

Wearing this cloak makes you slightly out of phase with material reality, granting you a 5% chance to ignore physical damage. This chance increases by an additional 5% per your level (currently 35%) up to a maximum of 85%.

It has other abilities, all of which enhance specific types of spells and class abilities, none of which you have.

The fabric settled around my shoulders with surprising weight. A wave of cold spread across my back as it adjusted to fit, then activated. My outline blurred, another icy blast washing over me. This wasn’t malevolent like the undead magic, but clean and precise. I’d grown so accustomed to sensing it on her, it reminded me of Sharon herself.

From the direction of the assassin's camp, a metallic scraping sound carried through the night air. A muffled roar came from what I could only assume was the captive okaku, and a voice whispered just loud enough for us to overhear.

“Cousin Choko, let’s go over this one more time. Burning Voice’s guild hall. Where is it located, and what are its defenses? This time, I want you to start from the inside and work your way out. Just so I can verify you haven’t left anything out.”

The reply was a whimpering moan. “I’ve told you everything. Listen, I’ll do whatever you want. Trade whatever you want. Set me free, and I will kill the rival for you. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. My companions are on their way to do that even as we speak. Naturally, they will start with destroying the city. It wouldn’t do to allow such filth to withstand the greatness that is the System, would it?”

And with those chilling words, I knew the time for waiting was at an end.

"I'm going," I told her, adjusting the cloak one final time.

"Kick bubblegum and take names," she replied, the corners of her mouth lifting briefly before collapsing back into a grimace.

"Count on it."

Robin padded to my side. I gestured toward the camp, then made a curved motion with my hand, pointing to indicate I wanted him to flank our target.

His eyes gleamed with understanding. He opened and closed his jaws once, then nuzzled my arm before melting into the darkness.

The night sounds seemed to intensify as I took a final look at Sharon. She’d cast the invisibility spell, but as a member of her party, I saw her clearly. Silver hair glinted in the moonlight as she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. The curse's progression was visible even in the darkness, patches of translucent skin revealing the structures beneath.

Determined to make this quick, I summoned the Unforged Gauntlet from my vambrace and moved toward the assassin's position with deadly purpose.

Chapter 66: Outgunned

Moving in silence, I crept behind one of the thick trees surrounding the camp. The clearing stretched maybe thirty feet across, with no ornamentation beyond the wall of branches blocking the view from Thanderkand.

The assassin, who my HUD labeled Brown-eyes (Clovash Assassin; Level 18 Elite Adventurer), sat with his back to me. His wudgie disguise should have reduced his attributes, but the System's elite designation killed any hope that would matter.

I paused, studying the scene. The assassin's shoulders rose and fell in a steady rhythm, each breath precise and measured. Firelight danced across his furry form, casting writhing shadows that reached for the mud-covered okaku.

My thumb found the gauntlet's controls. Without hesitation, I willed the Demolition Sphere toward his exposed back. The relic spun as it flew, adjusting trajectory to target the crown of his furred head.

Brown-eyes moved like liquid mercury, spinning and launching twin throwing knives half a heartbeat before impact. System magic glowed along each blade as they clanged off the sphere, knocking it aside.

I fought to correct the sphere's path as Robin burst onto the scene. Whisper-quiet, he lashed with his tail while reaching with all four limbs, black claws reflecting firelight.

The clovash-wudgie vanished, teleporting five feet to the left. Robin landed hard, one flank between me and our target, the Demolition Sphere inches from his hide. I recalled it with a gesture, the chain snapping taut as it reeled back.

Loosing a rattle, the dinosaur clawed at our opponent, tail cracking with a whip crack as it seamlessly integrated into the onslaught. As the sphere flew back to me, I circled wide, aiming to flank the assassin.

What I saw made my stomach drop.

Brown-Eyes had sprouted a second set of arms. Now wielding four daggers, he flowed between Robin's strikes with ease. Each blade glowed with enough magic to light a small room. He carved thin red lines across chitin and fur with surgical precision. Feathers exploded into the air as a dozen wounds bloomed across Robin's body in seconds.

Sharon's running out of time. The thought burned hot, pushing me to act.

I launched the sphere again.

The adventurer reacted like he had eyes in the back of his skull, flipping and tumbling behind the chain's length. His hand blurred, executing a perfect parry that sent the weapon careening away. This time, I managed to whip it around instead of aside. The sphere bounced lightly off Robin's armored chest before wrapping around the assassin's torso, binding all but one arm as the blades bit deep.

He grunted, more surprised than hurt. His body flickered as he attempted to teleport. I felt pressure against my hand, the scar across my palm tingling as the assassin’s magic fizzled. Fuzz flew as Brown-eyes received what I would have bet was his first haircut. The blades did more than cut hair; they sliced into his cheek and the orbit of one eye.

Compared to the monsters we'd recently faced, the damage was paltry. Whether through enchanted gear or the raw power of his level, Brown-eyes barely noticed. Worse, he was already in motion.

Two of his four hands shifted daggers to outer fingers, freeing the rest of his digits for spellcasting.

Magic pulsed nearby as the shadows came to life. A hand grabbed my leg before I could respond, dragging me to the ground. Magical blades, conjured by shadowy killers, struck my flesh, completely ignoring the defenses Sharon had hoped her cloak would provide.

I lashed out with fists and feet, desperate for breathing room. My bare hand passed through shadow-flesh like smoke, but my enchanted boots connected solidly. Raw strength disrupted several shades, granting precious space to maneuver.

Rolling clear, I risked a glance at Robin.

Brown-eyes had escaped the chain and drawn a sword. Wielding it two-handed with daggers in the others, he met Robin strike for strike. The results painted my companion in orange blood. Fresh wounds gaped wider than the dagger cuts, each one deep enough to glimpse bone.

"How are you immune to my poison?" the assassin muttered, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

His HUD probably read "Spooky Animal Companion" or something equally unhelpful.

I regained my feet and retracted the sphere, whipping it through the remaining shadows. Like my kicks, the weapon obliterated the summoned assassins.

Robin's screech cut the night as his head snapped back, lower lip split nearly in half. A jagged black tooth tumbled to earth, landing point-first. Orange smoke coiled from the broken fang, drifting toward Brown-eyes with unnatural purpose.

The clovash retreated, pressing a forearm to his mouth. Magic flared as he conjured wind.

The smoke ignored physics, crawling closer.

"What are you?" he demanded, backpedaling with newfound urgency.

His first real opening. I seized it, launching the sphere once more.

He twisted before it traveled three feet. Mana erupted from two limbs into paired daggers, the magic so potent it made my skin itch from twenty feet away. I tried recalling the sphere.

Too late, too slow.

Brown-eyes darted forward, driving a dagger between chain links. The second blade flew at my chest with an artist's grace.

Robin used the opening to rake his claws down the assassin's spine. He’d done just enough damage to make it through the clovash’s top-tier magic gear. This time, cloth parted, the enchantments woven into the garment ending.

I dove sideways, tasting dirt as the thrown dagger kissed my arm. The glancing cut burned as if molten metal were splitting my flesh, as if I were struck by a broadsword.

Growling, I drew the sphere back, snatching the embedded dagger free.

It wasn’t my brightest move.

As soon as my hand touched the hilt, I learned what it was to be on the receiving end of an enchanted, intelligent magical item that didn’t want to be touched. A scream shattered my thoughts, sending a bolt of magic directly into my brain. Heat seared every nerve as I fell to the ground, jaw muscles spasming.

Only my two new spells and enhanced attributes kept consciousness from fleeing. Through pain-hazed vision, I watched Robin seize the advantage. His tail coiled around one of Brown-eyes' legs, lifting the lighter creature skyward before slamming him into the campfire.

It was brutal. It was magnificent.

It also wasn't enough.

Ignoring most of the damage, the assassin reached for a sleeve where I caught a hint of a concealed inventory pouch. An item appeared, then went into his mouth. When it did, every wound he’d sustained instantly vanished.

Then he teleported ten feet from where I lay writhing.

With theatrical flair, he summoned his spent daggers. Energy crackled along each blade as they returned to waiting hands. His smile carried professional detachment. Even this close, with murder in his eyes, my instincts stayed silent. Without Telkazorin's warning, I'd have let him approach without suspicion.

"Easier this way, I guess." He closed the distance with measured steps.

Robin leapt to intervene. Brown-eyes dropped his sword and gestured. Telekinetic force seized my companion, hurling him through the canopy. Branches cracked like gunshots as he vanished into darkness.

Robin! I thought, then shoved the concern aside. Sharon needed me. Thanderkand’s citizens had to be warned. There were still children in the city. Innocents this creature’s allies were going to go kill.

But how?

The debilitating pain of touching his dagger had diminished enough for me to think and for my muscles to respond to my commands, albeit sluggishly.

Sluggish wasn’t going to cut it against this guy. Jasteel had been a grandstander: a would-be supervillain in a fight against someone he couldn’t help but underestimate. This clovash, although technically lower level, was one thing the other man hadn’t been: a professional.

Brown-eyes returned his attention to me, eyes as dead as any ghost. Maybe even more so. He lifted both daggers, flipping them around into a downward, icepick-style hold as he stepped closer.

I had one option left.

Knowing my HUD wouldn’t help with the casting, I focused on the words. They uncoiled in my mind as living things, the foreign memories associated with months of practice surfacing.

Brown-eyes blurred, materializing directly above me. Guard lowered for the killing stroke, he drove both weapons toward chest and neck.

The incantation erupted from my lips, each syllable transformed into an arctic blast, as if I’d become part dragon and was exhaling a breath weapon, not casting a spell.

Time seemed to crystallize. My HUD flashed: "Mana Sensitivity has increased all variables by one hundred percent."

It sounded…uncomfortably eager.

Chapter 67: Possess Interior

Both daggers slid home, piercing several inches as mana flowed out of me and into the spell. Through fresh agony, I got a sense of resistance as the clovash fought the magic. Mana Sensitivity didn't help here; it didn't amplify who I was, only the results of the spell.

The muscles in my jaw spasmed as his blade dug into my neck, and I could feel blood gushing free. My vision blurred at the edges as I shoved my will against his. The clovash's eyes narrowed, focusing less on resisting the spell and more on his impending victory.

"Just. Die." He hissed the words as he rotated both blades.

The threat, his confidence that I would fail, gave me the anger I needed. My mind slammed into his, a mountain compared to tissue paper.

My spell slid home.

The clovash made a throaty sound and stumbled away from me, taking his daggers with him. His eyes flickered left and right, then twitched as his arms jerked in opposing directions. Muscles beneath his flesh pulsed and writhed, serpents beneath his skin.

Robin, looking as bad as I felt with one forelimb visibly broken and several teeth missing, stumbled from the forest. Moving faster than anything so wounded should have been capable of, he whipped his tail across the assassin's chest, sending the adventurer tumbling toward the fire.

Brown-eyes landed with a wet crunch as his ribs snapped, bones jutting through the tattered remnants of his magical armor. His chest expanded and contracted in unnatural rhythms, each breath a struggle against his own rebellious anatomy.

Seeing the assassin temporarily incapacitated, I tried to sit up. My body refused to respond. He'd taken me apart with surgical precision: my sword arm hung useless, and blood poured from the holes in my chest and neck. I pressed my hand against my throat, dread certainty rising in my gut.

In seconds, I'd bleed out.

Brown-eyes had killed me. And he'd done it with casual, professional ease.

Robin spun toward me, his orange eyes darkening with worry. Then he darted away, disappearing into the trees.

I lay there, heightened Perception letting me feel my heart struggle to pump blood through my ravaged body. Across the camp, the clovash writhed on the ground, all four arms desperately reaching for concealed inventory pouches.

His fingers rebelled. Each time he got close, the bones inside his skin pulled away from their objective, jerking his hands in opposite directions.

To anyone else, the sight would have been horrific.

I felt only grim satisfaction that the spell had worked.

The ground shook as Robin returned. He had Sharon clutched under his good forelimb, his split face a ruin as he lowered her beside me.

"Deeeeaaaan," he growled, sounding desperate.

“I’m here,” Sharon said, fumbling hurriedly at her waist.

A series of sharp cracks drew my attention back to Brown-eyes. He'd managed to cast a spell despite his condition. Shadows climbed from the ground near the fire, taking humanoid shape. Halfway into emerging, the entities paused, heads swiveling in confusion. When they found no viable targets, they sank back into the earth.

With a pulse of magic and a strangled cry, Brown-eyes summoned one of his daggers. It flew true, only to strike his own forearm as his body spasmed at the last second. Blood fountained from the self-inflicted wound.

A low wail of confusion tore from the clovash as he forced out words. "What have you done? What spell is this?" Then he folded in half, vomiting gore. Other…things came noisily from his bottom half. The stench was overwhelming, pungent enough to pierce through my fading senses.

"Dean. Here." Sharon pressed two of her moderate salves against me, one for my neck and one for my chest. She applied two more to herself as well.

Healing burned through me, far weaker than it should have been. I checked my combat status and saw why.

Status Affliction: Healing Reduction

Duration: 5 minutes

Details: For the duration, all healing effects, including standard System regeneration, will be reduced to 10%.

Status Affliction: Bleeding Wounds

Details: You have been afflicted with wounds that require an additional 50% more healing to stop bleeding. They will inflict 10% of your overall hit points in damage every 5 minutes or until treated.

There was a list of toxins and poisons I'd resisted, though one had slipped through.

Status Affliction: Weakened Unto Death

Details: Your Strength attribute has been reduced by 50%. This penalty will remain until the source of the affliction is killed or until the current Event ends.

"No more healing for me," I said, pushing Sharon's hands away gently as I found the strength to sit up. The Strength reduction was immediately apparent, making even that simple motion feel like lifting mountains.

There was some satisfaction to balance the weakness, however.

"He does not look happy," Sharon observed, her telepathic voice carrying dark humor.

I had to agree.

Brown-eyes still fought the spell. He'd summoned a dagger successfully, but whatever plan he'd had went horribly wrong: his arm jerked up and down as he stabbed himself repeatedly in the stomach.

His guts spilled out, joining the growing mess on the ground.

Beside me, Sharon made a choking sound. "I didn't enjoy the horror quest, but I absolutely hate whatever this is. What's the name of that spell again?"

"Possess Interior. It's been amplified by a hundred percent."

"I'd say so. Do me a favor and never cast this where I can see it again." She looked away, attention turning to Robin. "Oh, boy. What did that Bilbo-wannabe do to you?"

"Thought we decided he was a Hoggle," I interjected reflexively.

"Purr," Robin said, the sound a wet rasp. He leaned down, nuzzling her with the side of his head. If he hadn't been covered in daemonic blood, it might have been a tender moment.

As it was, it just smeared vital fluids across her face and shoulder.

I watched the clovash, feeling nothing. For all I'd changed, for all the new emotions I was awakening to, this core truth remained: in a real fight, only one thing mattered - who was left breathing at the end.

My lips twitched into a smile. Sharon, seeing the expression, drew away. She looked pensive, maybe even afraid.

Why would she fear me? It made no sense.

Coming to my feet took far more effort than it should have. Sharon's healing had barely stopped the bleeding.

Dismissing my gauntlet into the vambrace, I drew both sickles as I approached the clovash. Despite looking as if he'd been rearranged by an entire team of surgeons, he was still alive. Standing over him, half-expecting some new trick, I glanced at the buried okaku.

Choko, flesh covered in insects with evidence of extensive torture written across his reptilian skin, was smiling.

I hesitated, knowing I faced one of the hardest decisions of my life.

Saving Sharon and Robin had been relatively simple choices. They were my friends. Brown-eyes was not. Letting him die from my spell would be fitting.

There was no logical reason to end this sooner than necessary. Watching him suffer the very pain he'd inflicted was satisfying.

No, not just satisfying.

It felt good.

Part of me wanted to draw this out, to savor every second of payback. But something had shifted. The faces of Thanderkand's children flashed through my mind, followed by an unexpected memory of Brian's voice, gentle and certain: You can be good and hurt people. It just has to be the right people, and for the right reasons.

At the end of the day, this wasn’t about the clovash; it was about me. Was I going to be the sort of tool the System wanted or something else?

The question hung heavy in the air as Brown-eyes made another wet, choking sound. His body contorted impossibly, bones cracking as the spell forced him into shapes that defied anatomy.

Am I enjoying this too much? The thought came unbidden, unwelcome.

"Damn it, Brian," I said, no heat in the words. With a mental command, I triggered the roll for both my Focus starter trait and the lesser Strength one. As the System responded with options, I crouched beside the dying assassin.

His eyes, clouded with pain, met mine. For a moment, I saw not a monster but another pawn of the System, shaped and broken by its influence. The distinction between us was paper-thin.

I ended his suffering with a clean strike.

Rising, I crossed to the okaku and repeated the mercy, freeing Choko from his torment.

When I was done, I put the sickles away and turned to Robin. He was looking at me, eyes bright with approval, jaws open and dripping with hunger. "Dig the okaku out for me? I'll strip the clovash of his gear, then you can eat. If you're still hurt after, hunt. But quickly. We need to get to Thanderkand."

"Hunnnngrryyyy," Robin cooed, obeying. It didn't take him long to free the buried creature.

Choco had been stripped naked, his body a canvas of systematic cruelty. The dinosaur cleaned the mess. After I stripped Brown-eyes of his gear, Robin handled that too. The two high-level adventurers restored a solid chunk of his hit points, but I commanded him to hunt regardless.

It would give me time to select the traits and inventory the loot. There was considerable wealth here, and we'd need every advantage if we were going to face more adventurers of similar caliber before the night was over.

Trait Selection

Starter Trait Selection – Focus

Luck has triggered, granting you a fourth option!

Warning: Traits that require mana to activate, or use mana to function, will not work in low or no-mana zones.

All is Stillness: Your mind is a calm, perfect void. Your Focus is considered 25% higher when attempting to learn organic skills or old magic spells.

Indomitable: Your Focus is considered 50% higher when resisting mind-influencing or altering effects of all types, even illusions that are externally projected. This includes non-magical distractions. Indomitable Synergy Bonus: As you are already highly resistant to pain, taking this trait will allow you to push through normal physical limitations, including fatigue, exhaustion, or even extensive damage.

Mind’s Eye Retreat: Your ability to meditate is heightened, allowing you to enter a place called the “Mind’s Eye Retreat.” While in the retreat, subjective time will apply (meaning all experiences take place 50% faster). You may use this state to strategize, plan, or even access your HUD.

Potency of Purpose: Your Focus is considered 25% higher for all variable spell effects related to it. This includes duration, damage, and the chance to succeed.

***

Standard Trait Selection – Strength

Luck has triggered, granting you a fourth option!

Enhanced Destruction: Your Strength attribute is considered 10% higher when dealing damage to inorganic material, increasing the benefit to 45%.

Carrying Capacity: Your Strength is considered 10% higher for all lift/load/drag purposes.

Burst of Strength: Gain a 5% bonus to your Strength attribute up to 3 times a day for 1 minute.

Muscular Tenacity: You may apply 20% of your Strength attribute to your Attunement score when resisting spells that target your Strength.

Identified Spell Details

Name: Possess Interior

Mana Cost: 50

Range: 20 feet (40 feet with current Mana Sensitivity enhancements)

Duration: 15 seconds (30 seconds with current Mana Sensitivity enhancements)

Description: This spell is similar to Animate (Occupied) Skeleton, in that it animates the interior of a target’s body. Instead of producing a skeleton for you to command, it briefly forces the target’s body to act in your best interests. This includes harming itself or preventing the host from casting spells.

In addition to acting on your behalf, the victim of this spell will suffer damage every second. The amount and type of damage depends on the actions its animated internals take.

Limitations: Animated organs cannot cast spells or activate abilities, although it can disrupt them if the host attempts to use them. They cannot simply shut down (this is not an instant-death effect). In addition, there are a wide variety of magical items and special abilities that may provide significant resistance to spells of this nature, including monsters who are immune.

To successfully cast this spell, your Focus and intent must exceed the target’s Attunement and defiance. Partial resistance is allowed, meaning that the spell may not always succeed in controlling all the target’s body; it might just be a limb, or a single hand, etc.

Parasite Insight: Intent, defiance, and ‘partial resistances’ are nebulous. Welcome to the world of Old Magic. You may choose to convert this to a System spell, which will standardize its effects. This will likely make the spell quicker to cast but less powerful, especially against adventurers.

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Dean Versus Brown-eyes (Clovash Assassin; Level 18 Elite Adventurer)

Victor: Dean

Outstanding Losses: A lot of hit points, plus it was gross. Yuck.

Destroyed Magical Items:

· Brown-eyes armor/garments

Damaged Magical Items

· Unforged Gauntlet of Demolition (chain damaged but intact; remaining active time reduced to 9 minutes)

Awards: 13,000 experience points; dropped loot.

***

Adversary Analysis has identified the following loot*:

*Note: For easier tracking, the loot gained during the Undead Bastion has been added here.

· Credits: 8,500

· Concealable Inventory Pouch (X 4)

· Standard Inventory Pouch (X 1)

· Okaku merchant outfit

· Healing Potion (High-grade; 250 hit points each) X 3

· Healing Potion (Medium-grade; 100 hit points each) X 5

· Healing Salve (50 hit points each) X 2

· Information Chit X 1 (Extracted okaku intelligence)

· Pouch of Thongaku Spores (Highly infectious, DNA-based annihilation agent; System restricted; locked to the okaku species)

· Incapacitation Bombs (Okaku-only) X 20

· Scholesis Daggers of the Shifter Assassin (Relic set of 4; See Notes)

· Shortsword of Grievous Wounds (Adds 10% Grace bonus to damage; critical damage increased by 5%)

· Amulet of Anti-Scrying X 1 (Resists remote viewing and probability effects)

· Killer Boots (+30% to stealth skills; +15% to tracking; +25% movement speed)

· Bow of Freezing Punition (Arrows fired from this bow do double damage against cold-sensitive creatures, such as the clovash, and applies a freeze effect)

· Quiver of Infinite Arrows (Stores up to 300 arrows; 5 mana can be spent to generate new ones)

· Greatsword of the Lich Tyrant (Relic-quality old magic item)

· Enthraller’s Music Box (Necromancy Enhanced) X 10

· Scholesis Daggers of the Shifter Assassin: These daggers are invested with the intellect of four accomplished clovash assassins. Only a member of that species can wield them safely. Parasite Insights: Purging the personalities would be difficult, but possible. These can only operate at their maximum potential when inhabited. To use them at full capacity, new personalities would need to be installed.

Chapter 68: Regroup

The gear was better than I could have hoped. My hands moved quickly, stripping Brown-eyes's equipment even as Sharon's labored breathing counted down the seconds we didn't have.

The inventory pouches and healing items were exactly what we needed. I found the daggers intriguing, their embedded personalities whispering possibilities. My mind flashed to the potential benefits of binding daemons inside each one. Was that even possible? My instincts, perhaps tweaked by a unique relationship with the Unforged Rod, said it was.

That would have to wait.

Sharon and this Event needed to come first.

My neck throbbed where the healing salve had barely closed the wound. Each breath reminded me how close Brown-eyes had brought me to death. The new spell had worked as expected - powerful, though perhaps not as overwhelming as that first casting suggested. The assassin had built for attributes other than Attunement, and whatever mental defenses the old magic allowed had been lowered mid-strike.

Luck had played its part in that success, in both spell and timing.

Via telepathy, I asked Sharon about the interactions between knowing old magic spells and the System. Her reply was basically a rehash of what we’d already been over: Parasite code handled anything we wanted kept from the System. If it didn’t, that old magic spell might be forcibly converted to a System variant.

This was yet another example of how priceless the hack was, and a reminder of the importance of well-timed discretion.

She finished her explanation with, "Whatever party you join, make sure someone has the HUD upgrade for telepathy. You’ll want to keep the old magic spells you learn concealed from any observing Monitors."

I would have pointed out that she’d mentioned the need for discretion several times already but withheld. Some things were just so important that they needed to be reinforced.

She dosed with another greater and two modest healing salves. With my healing debuff gone, I took her next-to-last greater salve. It left her personal reserve nearly empty.

My chest still ached as the salve worked. Standing made my vision swim. The assassin's precision had been surgical, each strike calculated to destroy rather than merely wound.

Thankfully, the clovash had been well-stocked with potions. As the name suggested, they had to be drunk but were far more potent. We split them, with the excess going to her.

"Help me review these traits," I said, forcing steadiness into my mental voice.

She helped me review the options while forcing down food and water despite her body's transformation. None of the traits were as spectacular as Override Engine or Evolution is My Weapon, but I didn't mind. Complex abilities went against my agenda for a streamlined powerset.

"All is Stillness and Mind's Eye Retreat are both really strong," she said between careful sips. "They belong to strategists though. I'd think Potency or Indomitable are your best choices."

“What about the Strength ones?”

“Burst of Strength sounds very situational, and similar to abilities you already have. Plus, it’s a lesser trait, so that 5% bonus to Strength for a minute is likely to not be multiplicative. I’d probably go with Carrying Capacity or Enhanced Destruction.”

Carrying Capacity would give me a 10% boost to Strength for lifts and loads, but since it didn’t seem to specifically apply to my hammer, I skipped over it and went for Enhanced Destruction.

With the easy one out of the way, I returned to thinking about the Focus trait. "The big weakness of fighters has always been mind-control. If someone got me to turn against my party, it would be bad."

"Dean."

"Yes?"

"Are you suggesting no one puts you in a corner? If so, does that make you Baby?"

Hands shaking with the aftermath of adrenaline and physical trauma, I grabbed one of Gost’s last meals. Pausing before taking a bite of fish, I gave her a half-hearted glare. "I am not Baby. And no, no one puts me in a corner."

She smiled, the levity momentarily alleviating some of the tension.

"I'll take Indomitable," I decided quickly. "It plugs the biggest hole."

I selected my second trait, gaining a 50% Focus bonus to resist mind-influencing effects. It kicked in subtly, helping push back the exhaustion that threatened to slow us down. As the benefit settled, I checked the sky again. My HUD confirmed it was nearly four in the morning. Two hours until full sunrise.

We'd gone into the mansion, fought through endless monsters, nearly died multiple times, and defeated three of six adventurers in about seven hours. The night had passed in a combat-fueled blur.

Robin returned as we finished our hasty meal. He looked restored, scarred but whole. The sight of him strong again eased an unfamiliar knot in my chest.

"We need to move fast," I said, already rising. "If the other clovash attack Thanderkand, I want to be there."

"We still can't fight inside the city," Sharon reminded me as she struggled to stand. Robin helped her, wrapping his tail around her waist and lifting her onto his back.

She squeaked in surprise, then accepted the necessity and gripped his armored hide.

"We'll figure it out," I said, unclasping her cloak and passing it over. "This was basically useless against magical weapons. Besides, the benefit is level dependent. Keep it."

"Fine." She took it reluctantly.

We started toward the city. With Sharon on Robin's back, we maintained an easy pace, hitting four-minute miles.

She cast her coffee spell on herself, then offered to cast it on me.

"I'm not tired." It wasn’t a lie either. Any exhaustion I should have felt was pushed away, shoved into a place I’d indulge later.

"We really need to get you proper training," she said after a few moments. "Did you really use the same tactic like… four times on that assassin? You didn't even consider the ring or the ice sword?"

I grimaced, pushing us faster. "I didn't think about it. Just reacted."

"You're all raw instinct. When we get home, I'm building you a custom training routine."

"Assuming we don't get another Event immediately."

"Even then." She shifted, pain evident in her voice. "This is why I mentioned the Base Seed earlier. If you choose that option, it’ll let you set the control interface at the Counterstrike installation. We can buy permanent party slots and even access the System’s trade network. Plus, I can upgrade my analytics packages."

I didn't point out that we both had to survive first. "Fine. You've convinced me. But we'll need tons of credits, right?"

“Probably. We haven’t been able to afford one yet, but the details we’ve seen indicate so.” She grimaced, trailing off as the curse chewed at her. “I’ll need to use another healing potion soon. Ten more minutes. Fifteen, max.”

Instead of replying, I leaned forward, pushing my body harder. Every second counted now.

The wind rushed across my blood-soaked form as I realized I was glad I hadn't given in to torturing Brown-eyes. That delay might have cost Sharon's life.

Altruism, it seemed, had its place in the real world.

Character Update

New Traits:

● Indomitable

● Enhanced Destruction

Available Traits:

· Grace (Starter)

· Mind X 2 (Starter and Standard)

· Attunement (Standard)

Interlude: Infectious

Wahkomb stirred, sniffing and licking his lips. Rolling over, he forced gummy eyes open to a dark room. His night vision kicked in, rendering the bedroom in shades of black, white, and yellow.

Bringing in local currency had been inexpensive, with every System credit equaling over a hundred 'clips'. It had allowed them to rent the top floor of one of the more expensive, private hotels in the city.

Across from the lavish bed, he saw three inventory pouches on a polished table. Their protocol was to keep most of their collective gear, anything they wouldn't need for the mission or personal defense, together. If the pouches were all in one place, it meant his companions were still out.

He checked his HUD, cursing the fact that none of them had thought to get any of the party communication upgrades. The enhancements weren't even that expensive; they were just considered excessive, especially for their level. Everyone knew that party dynamics didn't become important until at least level thirty, if not forty.

Sitting up, he inhaled. The air tasted wrong, metallic.

The room smelled of foulness and sick. He came to his feet unsteadily and turned, looking at the bed. It was soaked with sweat and other, less savory fluids. The sheets clung to his scaled flesh like wet parchment.

How sick had he been?

Feeling weak, he peeled the cloth from his scales, then made his way across the room to what passed for a hygiene station. Applying water and foul-scented soap, he cleaned himself, his claws scraping against scales that seemed... different. Wrong. He found his personal inventory pouch next to the bed and donned his equipment.

Once he was ready for combat, he plodded to the dining table. A variety of cloth-covered, blood-soaked dishes lay about, flying insects buzzing over the remains of the nearly two-day-old meal. Lifting a cloth over one, he jammed a claw into a wudgie forearm. The meat was starting to green, but that didn't bother him. He chewed down the rancid flesh of their former proprietor, thoughts turning to the mission.

There were clovash to kill, and an upstart adventurer to deal with.

Teeth crunching through bone, savoring the marrow, it occurred to him that the locals may have been responsible for his missing companions. Perhaps it was time to put aside mercantile tactics?

He struggled to remember why they hadn’t burned the city down from the start.

It made no sense. Why rely on subterfuge? Why negotiate? Death and fire would solve everything.

Still chewing, he plodded to the group's stores, which held more explosives and other, equally useful, supplies. His hands shook as he strapped the pouches beneath his robe. The tremors weren't from weakness; all he felt now was anticipation.

He made his way out of the deathly silent building, rooms that no longer held living occupants passing unnoticed.

Stepping out onto the cobblestones of the Royal Road, he looked at the night sky, trying to judge the time. It had gone from late to early, he was certain. But how early?

Early enough for the remaining locals to be asleep. That was all that mattered.

Perhaps, he thought with a grin that split his face wider than it should, they will wake to fire. Screaming. That would be ideal, yes?

It would be.

But where to start? The orphanage? The market where families gathered? His mind cycled through targets, each thought more violent than the last.

Wiping his brow, which was once more damp with sweat, he searched the road, trying to remember any of his party's tactical discussions. The fever made thinking difficult, like wading through tar. Eventually, after several minutes of standing there, his temperature growing steadily hotter, it came to him.

The mana gem. The heart of their defenses. Yes. That first.

***

Yellow-crest turned to Black-tail, her eyes dancing with the satisfaction of fresh kills. Next to them, an entire barracks of defenders lay silent, bodies torn to shreds from a mixture of magic and lethal force. Blood pooled on the wooden floor, still steaming in the cool night air.

"I begin to suspect they truly knew nothing," she observed, stepping over a decapitated wudgie corpse with practiced indifference.

Black-tail, four arms each wielding a long, curved blade, wiped them across a length of white cloth next to one of the crude wooden bunk beds. The fabric turned crimson, then black. "The miners. I think we should take them next. They behave far too suspiciously. Brown-eyes should investigate them once we're done with the adventurer."

"Agreed." Yellow-crest turned from the scene of their slaughter. It had been enjoyable, if not particularly challenging. Those who fought the System tended to be pathetically weak. Even the local monsters were trash by comparison. That one of the okaku had apparently gotten ill from a swamp creature was only a testament to their slovenly lifestyle, not this world's resilience.

"Shall we go to their habitation?" she asked, her human facade flickering slightly at the edges. "Even if neither are there, we can occupy their rooms. The System forbids us from killing one another. It said nothing about capture. We render them unconscious, carry them to Brown-eyes, and let him play."

"It could be quite satisfying, yes." Black-tail sheathed his weapons. Magic pulsed briefly as the size-altering sheaths compacted the material, allowing the oversized equipment to fit snugly within their concealment. With that done, he folded two of his arms into their concealing sleeves. "And if the proprietor notices our presence? Slaughtering everyone in the building is sure to broadcast our intent. The defenders may flee."

Yellow-crest grinned, revealing rows of teeth that belonged to no human, even in her human disguise. "Let them. We will hunt for sport."

"It would be fun to stop holding back. Very well, I agree with this plan. Shall we detour to update Brown-eyes first?"

"No. We will visit him if waiting takes us into another night."

Plan agreed, the duo exited the barracks. Black-tail went first, his human body moving with enough Grace to belie his original form. Each step was too fluid, too perfect, like water flowing uphill.

The building was located in a small compound near the front gates, nestled in a circle of similar structures, each initially staffed and fitted with armaments, munitions, and defensive equipment to help slow the Churn. A central courtyard abutted the buildings, with a heavy gate exiting directly into the city square. The shine of the quarter-full mana gem was visible even here, its light creeping over the edges of the walls.

"A shame only this building was occupied," Black-tail observed. Over the past day, the majority of the able-bodied soldiers in the city had deployed elsewhere, either to the Churn or to protect valuable resources. A few had been assigned to guard civilians trying to escape.

Yellow-crest's reply was fondly playful. "Do you take such joy in crushing insects? Wouldn't you prefer a true challenge?"

He rasped a laugh, the sound like grinding stone. "Only the ignorant or fools crave a 'true' challenge. If there's one thing I learned during my Events, it's that the best enemy is a dead one."

"And the next-best?"

"Helpless, unaware, or ill-prepared. Preferably all three."

They passed a child's toy, dressed to resemble one of the city’s wudgie guardsmen, abandoned in a gutter. Neither glanced at it.

The duo crossed the courtyard to the gate. Although both had relatively high Grace scores, neither attempted stealth. Why would they? Their enemies were dead and no force in the city, perhaps the entire world, could stop a pair of well-prepared clovash adventurers.

Black-tail reached for the gate latch, a hissed warning erupting past his jaws. A sheet of ice had grown over his human hand, cementing it in place. The metal turned brittle white, frost patterns spiraling outward. At the same time, blue eyes flickered into view from the nearby shadows.

Beyond the gate, a man spoke in a loud, arrogant voice. But it was not to them. The words echoed with unnatural clarity, carrying weight that pressed down on the invaders.

"Wahkomb, I presume? Yes. I thought so. You look ill. Violently so. You know what’s interesting? I just happened to return from the battlefront to discover two of your enemies lurking nearby. There they are. Just through that fence. It appears that they have been personally responsible for killing at least one, if not both, of your friends. Perhaps instead of threatening my city, you should have a conversation with the two of them? Outside, if you please."

Jerking at the gate, Black-tail wrenched it open as cold shot numbing tendrils into his limb. To his shock, when he attempted to pull the hand away, it shattered like glass. The fragments hung in the air, the bloody shards momentarily reflecting blue light.

Behind him, Yellow-crest growled a warning. "We're outflanked. That voice. Could it be the notorious Mr. Fingers?"

"Please," the speaker replied, as if he'd been able to hear them all along. "I'm Mr. Fingers to the locals. You may call me Telkazorin."

Black-tail's eyes widened, genuine fear breaking through his composure. "The dragon sorcerer! He's here?!"

Chapter 69: Foreshadowing

We broke through the tree line a mile from the city. For a moment, I thought we'd time skipped, as the horizon blazed with brightness that could easily be mistaken for dawn. Sharon, fresh from using her last greater healing salves, caught on before I did.

"The city is burning," she said, gasping as she stretched a hand over Robin's shoulder. "Something destroyed the gates. Holy crap, look at that. What's going on?"

I wondered what my Perception score needed to be to make out so many details from such a distance. At our pace, it only took several additional seconds for the scene to come into focus for me.

Both enormous gates, the watchtowers adjacent to them, and a solid hundred feet of wall on either side was either gone or burning. A wall of flames licked the air, throwing plumes of oily smoke toward the night sky. Our trek brought us to an angle where the fire appeared thinner, revealing the devastation beyond the walls.

The courtyard, along with the enormous mana gem, had vanished, as had all buildings within at least two-hundred feet toward the interior. Everything that was not stone or steel burned with relentless intensity.

I scanned for survivors or combatants. My HUD activated as Sharon drew my attention south. Three shapes battled a hundred feet from the smoldering walls, nearly obscured by smoke.

One was an okaku, the reptilian hulk adorned in more magical equipment than either of the previous two I'd encountered. His body was burned and blackened, with half of his face literally melted away, revealing glistening bone and sinew beneath. I observed the crazed, manic look in his remaining eye and remembered.

This must be the one who had contracted an illness.

"Now that is a genuine barbarian," Sharon commented telepathically.

I could not disagree with her assessment. With wounds that severe, even if the guy possessed two thousand hit points, he should not have remained standing.

Beyond him, a spectacular confrontation unfolded. A whirlwind of shadows erupted from the ground around and above Telkazorin, the vortex contracting and expanding as if it possessed its own consciousness. Bits of green lightning shone within the hurricane, illuminating the ghostly shapes of winged creatures.

Nearly a hundred feet further from the walls, I found the scar-faced clovash man. He was nearly as damaged as the okaku, with one of his four arms missing, appearing cooked down to a shoulder joint, and another that looked as though someone had peeled it apart, leaving only bone protruding from the stub. Covered in severe burns and soot, he wielded two swords with his remaining limbs, his movements flowing and smooth as he rushed toward the mage.

Telkazorin stood at the center of the maelstrom, his temporary body surrounded in pulsating darkness. He appeared much as we had last seen him, just a man wearing a plain robe and common clothes. Like the other pair, he had taken a considerable beating: half his scalp was bare, the exposed skin waxy. As we drew closer, I realized that he was not nearly as intact as it had appeared initially. Fires had burned holes in his garments, revealing blackened flesh through the gaps.

"I'm not certain if this is a conflict we should interfere with," Sharon said tensely.

I shook my head firmly, confident in our strategy. "We need those adventurers dead, and information about Telkazorin might prove useful. Do you have analytic spells to quantify his capabilities?"

"Of course." She sounded unhappy.

"Once in range, focus entirely on him. Learn everything you can. I'll leave Robin with you for protection."

"Leave Robin with me? Where are you going?"

Robin added an equally fierce, "KREE!"

I realized he could hear our non-verbal communication, storing that revelation for later.

"I'm going to help him. If that clovash has abilities like the assassin, I can't defeat him fairly. And the okaku looks dangerous too. To extract you alive, I have to ensure they don't survive."

I didn't wait for arguments. "Robin, guard her. I'll return shortly."

"Guard," my companion echoed, clearly unhappy but obedient.

Sliding the ring I had taken from the first okaku onto my finger, I retrieved an Enthraller's Music Box from a storage pouch. Using my HUD, I activated the device. It floated in the air, serenading me with the perfect battle song: One Winged Angel.

With the music in place, I drew a Scroll of Displacement and activated it. Then I pulled the Sword of Freezing Punition with one hand, and the Shortsword of Grievous Wounds with the other.

With the magic of my ambidexterity belt pulsing steadily at my waist, I began making my way around the battlefield, angling toward the one of the two I considered the more significant threat: the clovash warrior.

My HUD updated:

Identity Confirmed: Black-tail, Clovash elite.

It labeled Wahkomb without disclaimers.

Neither adventurer noticed my presence, as both remained fixated upon Telkazorin. The mage now floated several inches above the scorched earth, his single remaining eye glowing as he wove intricate gestures with his fingers. The shadows within the vortex responded to his commands, shifting and reforming into horrific shapes.

Black-tail used one intact hand to grab a healing potion from an inventory pouch. As he did, Telkazorin made a sharp, decisive gesture. An arctic pulse emanated from the whirlwind surrounding him as one of the shadows dissolved into nothingness. In its place, a meteor of vibrant purple fire the size of a car materialized, sizzling out of the shadowy whirlwind, streaking toward the clovash with preternatural speed.

Consuming the potion in a single motion, Black-tail darted laterally, moving with a combination of speed, athleticism, and skill that was difficult to follow. The meteor adjusted course mid-flight, its fiery tail streaming behind it as it sought the adventurer. He pivoted once more, sprinting toward Wahkomb.

"I will keeeel you," the okaku shouted, his insanity transforming his deep voice into a grotesque parody of a screech. He gripped a scimitar-looking sword in one hand and a spherical device in the other. At Black-tail's approach, he hurled the device toward the advancing adventurer, then turned to charge directly at Telkazorin.

By any reasonable assessment, I would have assigned the sick okaku the short end of the confrontation, but he surprised me. Despite being visibly ill and partially melted, his movements remained fluid. A single jumping leap carried him twenty feet forward, halving the distance between himself and Telkazorin.

He landed awkwardly, stumbling into a roll, then popped to his feet and charged his target with a warbling cry.

Behind him, Black-tail had successfully lured the meteor near Wahkomb's former position. Approaching the tossed device, he jumped, tucked all remaining limbs, and executed a whirling flip.

BOOM!

Wahkomb's explosive detonated as Black-tail seemed certain to clear the blast radius entirely. The bomb struck the underside of Telkazorin's conjured projectile, shattering the spell into countless smaller fragments that streaked away in all directions, pelting the clovash.

For his part, the concussive force only propelled Black-tail further toward his goal. His leather armor glowed with protective enchantments, and I saw no indication that he had sustained new damage from the exchange. Landing thirty feet from Telkazorin and the charging okaku, he sped toward the duo.

Still closing the distance myself, I spared a moment to survey the surrounding area, wondering where the final clovash lurked. Telkazorin had mentioned the woman was likely a Valkyrie. If the translation remained true to Earth mythology, it might indicate she possessed the ability to resurrect fallen allies. In her position, I would remain concealed nearby, prepared to heal or enhance my companion at a pivotal moment.

There were plenty of shadows big enough to hide a body, but there was no sign of a crouching shape. That did not mean she wasn't invisible or otherwise concealed, but I didn’t dare take the time to investigate further.

CRACK!!

I redirected my attention to the battle in time to witness Wahkomb being drawn into the vortex above Telkazorin. The okaku bellowed in unbridled rage, his hands and legs flailing desperately as he reached for an inventory pouch strapped securely at his waist. Winged shapes descended upon the hapless creature. Wherever they made contact, his skin transformed into a lifeless, gray hue, the scales flaking away to ash.

The crack came from Black-tail's sword penetrating the magical barrier. It protruded from Telkazorin's chest, blood pulsing around it.

Now within fifty feet, I saw Telkazorin glance my way. His face stretched into a smile as he gestured. Two shadows broke free as dragons, rushing toward the clovash.

He evaded the first, but was clipped by the second, a spectral wing slicing cleanly through the sole remaining arm carrying a sword. This left Black-tail with exactly one intact limb. Both shadows faded from existence, their final attacks depleting their ephemeral substance.

I expected the warrior to retreat; the fight was clearly lost. Even in a remote shell, Telkazorin's magic made the chances for someone without the right class and gear nearly impossible to do much of anything. Instead, the clovash brandished the bone spike of one arm and an empty fist, charging the vortex.

"What is he doing?" I asked, using telepathy, but mostly talking to myself.

Sharon's reply was faint and weak, but audible. "Look at his face."

I followed her suggestion and saw what she meant. Unlike the okaku, who appeared genuinely insane, Black-tail exhibited complete clarity of purpose. His eyes narrowed with focus, his jaws set. There was no fear of death at all, only grim determination. It reminded me of Earth depictions of ancient Samurai; warriors willing to give their lives against all odds for the slightest chance of victory.

What a weirdo.

CRACK! FWOOM! FWOOOM! BOOOOM!

Telkazorin turned to face the clovash, hands lifted to cast. He hadn't noticed Wahkomb was only mostly dead. The okaku did something with his pouch.

A heartbeat later, a cascading series of explosions, each at minimum as powerful as one of the mana gem bombs, tore through the sky.

The conjured vortex disintegrated completely as Telkazorin vanished from view. Fragments of Wahkomb spiraled through the air as macabre confetti, every piece of equipment or gear he had been carrying almost certainly destroyed in the detonation. In the ensuing shockwave, the concussive force lifted Black-tail like a discarded puppet and propelled him directly toward me.

I adjusted course, intercepting the adventurer as he fell. He landed heavily on his back, his remaining limbs twitching as he struggled to stand. "Should have retreated," I told him, jamming the sword into his chest. When that didn't finish him, I added the short sword.

My HUD flashed with a status update. I disregarded it, focusing instead on systematically stripping the corpse of anything potentially valuable. There was only an inventory pouch. Telkazorin's magic, combined with the catastrophic explosions, had obliterated the majority of his equipment.

Rising to my feet, I began advancing toward the epicenter of the explosion, pausing only to collect the sword still clutched in the amputated limb. "That was a little anticlimactic."

Sharon's reply was louder than our previous exchange, suggesting she and Robin were approaching. "What, you needed some big, bombastic boss battle to feel satisfied? I thought you were a pragmatist"

"Nah. Technically, I think I've been through like four boss fights today. I'm fought out. Fighted out? Whichever. Also, I was told relics should be relatively rare going forward. How is it that we've found not one but two of them."

"Core worlds guilds operate differently. This isn't a standard quest for your level. 'Normal' doesn't apply."

Her tone held an accusation. I understood. Turning into goo would make anyone resentful.

I found Telkazorin's remains at the center of the explosions. His piecemeal body looked like someone who'd just climbed out of a volcano, although most of his torso and all of his head remained completely unharmed.

Extending my arm, I extracted the sword from his chest. As it slid free, the body stirred. Telkazorin's voice, as deep and commanding as it had been during our initial meeting, emerged through lips that barely moved.

"Dean. I'm glad you came. This shell fades. I have little time. Tell me: did you find the location of the treasury? Did the ghosts tell you what's inside, the thing that the System seeks?"

I considered fabricating a response but ultimately decided against deception. The individual had effectively neutralized two of my adversaries. "I have indeed, and I do understand what is at stake."

"Good.” A flicker of relief shone through his one good eye. “Perhaps we’ve both made the discovery in time. Inside my left chest pocket. Take the golden phylactery."

Bending down, I did as he asked. I'd grown used to a certain amount of cold, but touching the devastated body was like coming into contact with liquid nitrogen. With a hiss of surprise, I tugged a small, marble-sized gem from a fold of fabric. It was elongated on one side, coming to a sharp, tapered point, like a railroad spike. If he hadn't told me it was a phylactery, I wouldn't have guessed it. This was a golden oval packed with enough magic to make my entire arm numb from the cold.

I started putting it away when he spoke.

"When my presence fades, the System will send a champion through the Churn portal. It will seek Jasmine. If it succeeds, the world will lose its status once more, and a tool of immeasurable power will fall into enemy hands. You must stop it."

"What about the quest? And if I find the treasury first, won't the System leave?"

He snorted derisively. "Letter, not spirit. There's always a loophole with that accursed thing. Just because two teams of adventurers seek the treasury doesn't mean it can't send a monster to 'make things more interesting'. I've seen this pattern before. Trust me. And protected status will prevent future incursions only. Any it leaves behind will be free to act. Without me to prevent it, the champion will do horrible things to Thanderkand and the citizens of this world."

I frowned, looking at the phylactery, then over at the burning city. "I can't stop it." The admission hurt worse than any wound I'd taken in battle. "I barely killed the assassin, and that was mostly luck. Sharon is cursed. She'll die if I don't find the last clovash soon."

"The phylactery," Telkazorin said. "Find Jasmine. She'll enter it. When she does, put the gem inside your friend. Jasmine is an elder being. She'll heal the host body. I have no doubt, once she's caught up with current events, she will help you."

"Fuck you," I said immediately. The implied outcome was clear.

His reply was a tight smile. "I'm sure you were told her nature, were you not? She's my opposite. Light to the dark. I'm sure that will appeal to your sensibilities. With her spirit concealed within Sharon's body, she'll be able to travel with you. Imagine the possibilities. You're a pragmatist. Who wouldn't sacrifice a pawn to gain a queen? Besides, you said it yourself. Your friend is going to die. Before she does, you might as well put her meat to good use."

"Not happening."

He just went on, ignoring my denial. "Naturally, no matter what happens, you'll want to stay and save the innocent civilians of this world, too, won't you? She can help with that."

"No, I won't. My job is to get Sharon and I out of here alive. I don't give a shit about a bunch of random people on a planet I'll never see again. If you think there's a chance I'll risk her life or mine to do whatever four-dimensional chess game you're playing, you can screw off." They were, in my estimation, the best lies I'd ever told.

Telkazorin laughed mockingly.

Okay, maybe my performance wasn't that convincing.

He said, "The other breast pocket. There's a vial. It's what I give my subjects to keep them alive. Take it for when you fight the champion. I would rather see you survive than this shell. And I will see you again, should you survive this. Consider that a promise."

As I reached for the pocket, Telkazorin's borrowed body shuddered and flexed. A great, cavernous moan rose from the air, followed by a snapping, sucking sensation. The body, no longer leaking cold, went still.

I found the vial. It was in a solid metal tube lined with runes.

The head, still youthful and whole, twitched. A soft, whining cry pushed past the teeth. "Master? Master? Where are you? I've done as you asked. The infusions didn't work. Elder blood still burns my veins. Master, please. I can't see you. Help me. I promise not to fail you again."

A final cold pulse snapped through the air, hitting the man. He fell silent, lifeless.

Event Update: The okaku adventuring party has been defeated. One clovash remains. Do not forget the treasury. If they claim the contents before you stop them, you will fail this event.

Combat Summary and Inventory Update

Combat Summary

Dean Versus Black-tail (Clovash Dual Class Champion/Skirmisher; Level 18 Elite Adventurer)

Victor: Dean (partial credit given)

Outstanding Losses: N/A

Destroyed Magical Items:

· Most of Black-tail’s kit

Awards: 500 experience points; dropped loot.

***

Adversary Analysis has identified the following loot:

· Skirmisher’s Swords X 2 (These swords deal 25% more damage while the wielder is employing footwork or using a form of multidexterity, including ambidexterity; they are also 30% faster than standard swords of their size)

· Unknown Magical Artifact (System Note: You have collected an artifact so steeped in old magic that the System is struggling to analyze its functionality. Return it to your Crossroads intact for study. If you die before completing this Event, be thoughtful enough to leave it somewhere another adventurer can find later.)

Chapter 70: Treasury

I disabled the music box. One Winged Angel faded, along with the benefits of the Scroll of Displacement. Leaving the ring on, I turned to see Sharon, atop Robin, approaching rapidly. She slid off his back as my dinosaur went to clean the battlefield.

Sharon nearly collapsed as she touched down, but I made it to her in time to provide support. Giving me a weak smile, she explained, "Each time we heal it, the curse starts somewhere new. My legs, this time."

I held up the metal vial Telkazorin had given me, explaining what had happened in as much detail as I could. "In the end, he said he'd just figured out what was in the vault. My best guess is that he was headed out there when he encountered the adventurers." I showed her the phylactery as well.

The analyst followed along, asking probing questions and casting probability spells regularly. "I have a spell that looks into the recent past for answers, but it's murky here." She gestured broadly, indicating the entire world. "I think we have enough to piece together what might have happened though."

Switching fully to telepathy, she held a hand out. "Better give me that phylactery. I'll store it in my cloaked pouch, just in case."

I handed it over.

Robin returned, muzzle bloody and a hundred pounds heavier. Eyes glowing brightly enough to be mistaken for headlamps, he crouched, allowing me to get Sharon onto his back. The curse was progressing quickly, but we both agreed to hold off applying any more healing until she absolutely needed it.

"The treasury has to come next, obviously," she said. "We'll try to find that last clovash after, to end the Event."

I wanted to protest but held back as she waved for us to move. We started along the road that would take us near the quarry, the Churn and, hopefully, the treasury.

While we traveled, she described events as she thought had unfolded. "We know about the past. About how Telkazorin and Jasmine were part of a group of beings trying to defy the System. I believe most of that is straightforward. Telkazorin, in the mold of the truly devious, keeps his real body somewhere secret and safe, while he projects himself into shells. Jasmine, who we've been told repeatedly is a good person, did not. She came here in person."

"If she's so good, why would she volunteer to oversee Telkazorin's cabal?" I asked.

"Precisely. I'm thinking that definitions of 'good' with these people are a little flexible. Anyway, fast forward. With this world under Protected status, around eight thousand years passes where Telkazorin can only extract information provided by his agents. We know what the cabal was working on."

"The phylacteries?" I guessed.

She nodded, eyes bright and approving. "Your friend Gost was spot on about his observations. Plus, everything we saw earlier points in one direction. The fact that Telkazorin had the golden one on him only reinforces that idea. Once the Protected status dropped, he took over that body. Maybe it was as he said, to protect this world and extend the amount of information he could extract. But I think there was a lot more to it. I think he wanted to take the results of the research and Jasmine with him."

We picked up speed, Robin's gait smoothing out at around the thirty-mile-an-hour mark. I ran next to him. With my class still active, it wasn't difficult. The paved road blurred beneath our feet as we divided a journey of several hours into minutes, the cool night air rushing past us as we raced against time.

Putting the chain of events together, I said, "You're thinking he helped with the Churn enough to delay the System, and once he figured out where she was, he intended to go extract her. After that he'd just...leave?"

"Maybe. Probably. This is the part where things fall apart. He wouldn't have fought those adventurers if he didn't see the benefits of our victory. He wouldn't have given you the phylactery if he didn't see that as a winning vector." She coughed, shaking her head. "I hate ambiguous situations like this. It's my job to untangle messes, but every thread I pull with Telkazorin just ends up murkier."

I'd told her about the smile I'd seen when he'd noticed my arrival during the fight. The memory was vivid enough for me to wonder whether Telkazorin actually preferred this outcome.

"Is the phylactery secure?" I asked. "The cabal obviously developed methods to conceal their research. Do you think it's as effective as Parasite code?"

"No." Her reply was thoughtful, but decisive. "I think what they've developed is essentially a type of encryption. They scrambled the letters up. Eventually, the System will decode it. What we've developed is an entirely unique attack vector."

Our discussion came to a halt as we came within a few miles of the Churn. An aroma of ozone, mixed with swirls of cold and piercing heat roiled across my skin. It was so irritating I had to stop myself from growling. Flickering lights shone in the distance, above the excavation site. An orange-tinted net, covered in ten-foot-long barbs, floated above it all as a lethal balloon.

Flying shapes, far larger than the adventurers or kahrons we'd seen on our first visit, appeared within that balloon. I made out versions of monsters that might have been gargoyles, bats, or a dozen other archetypes from human lore. Each made sounds of anguish as they appeared, their bodies lacerated as if they'd been shoved through a metal briar patch. Unseen defenders responded to their appearance, lashing them with spells and missiles.

The constant influx and fighting was different from anything I'd seen. Just a few days ago, we'd arrived at a skirmish. Now, it was an orchestrated invasion, the battlefield illuminated by flashes of spell-fire that cast harsh shadows across the rocky terrain.

"Your daemon's spell is making the difference," Sharon said, pointing for us to veer to the north. "I'd guess teleporting through those barbs is costing those creatures at least half their hit points."

"It could also be why the System switched to sending more than adventurers," I pointed out.

"Maybe."

We left the pavement and found a well-worn trail, with signs of wagons and carts aplenty. The dusty path wound through jagged rock formations, their silhouettes like fangs. Sharon, her skin glistening wetly, took out and drank a medium-grade healing potion. Even though the potion was listed as only healing a hundred hit points, the effect was superior to the salves.

"It's healing my insides first," she said at my questioning look.

As we approached a star-lit rocky region, the scouring effect of the magical conflagration, coupled with a growing worry for my friend, drew my thoughts to our flight from the catacombs.

Sharon was a non-combatant. Still, she'd come to defend me, to pit her intellect and experience against all the System could throw at us.

It should have happened to me. Guilt was a foreign, unwelcome sensation. Rage came to my defense, burning through uncertainty and weakness.

It was my job to stand between people like Sharon and the System. Hadn't I built my class to do just that?

What else was an Apocalypse BREAKER meant for?

My purpose had to be about more than hitting things.

Men's hearts are only big enough for one truth. What is your truth, Dean?

I wasn't built for philosophical questions. The feeling of uncertainty only made me angrier.

Sharon's mental voice slid into my troubled thoughts. "I’ve been thinking about what Gost told you. His theory about merging a phylactery with your relic might have been wrong. But maybe he was right about the other part. You need a mentor, preferably someone from outside of the System. And it has to be someone we can trust fully. Like your guide." Reaching next to her inventory pouch, she extracted a lime green bean-looking object.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Mhm. I have an idea. You're probably not going to like it."

I turned, looking up at her. She had a fragile, sad smile and was studying the object between her fingers. It seemed she'd come to a hard decision.

ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR! WHOOOOOM!

The ground shook, rattling and quaking hard enough to crack. An enormous, defiant roar split the sky as a shape burst through the barbed wire of the net covering the churn. I gawked as a creature that had to be at least as big as a 747 ascended toward the sky. Arrows and spells followed it, arcing through the darkness like fireworks.

Glowing, acid-etched light burned through the ground as the earthquake continued. Where it spread, the painful heat of the System's magic boiled the air. Being close enough to see it made my eyes hurt, the light casting unnatural shadows that danced across the landscape.

"That'll be the champion," Sharon said, clinging tightly to Robin's back. The dinosaur had taken the situation in stride, long neck twisted to follow the newcomer's trajectory. It was flapping around the Churn, roaring defiance and spitting a steady stream of green foam at the defenders.

I thought of the metal vial. I'd shown it to Sharon with the intent to suggest she take it, but our conversation and subsequent rush to get here had derailed me. Telkazorin had suggested the contents might be sufficient to allow me to fight that thing.

Now I knew him for a liar. Now, I understood the implication that the champion would be a global threat. Even miles away, the thing made every other monster I'd seen appear weak.

"Abyss difficulty," I murmured, then forced myself back into action. "We need to find the treasury before that thing gets bored."

Grabbing the bag of dice, I found one with an arrow by moonlight. I tossed it. It struck the ground without bouncing, the marker pointing northeast.

We followed, crossing the splitting landscape and pouring on every bit of speed we could manage. The quakes continued as we traversed terrain that rapidly became treacherous. My boots saved me from falling more than once as chunks of rock broke away beneath my feet.

Cresting a lip of stone, I saw a checkerboard of excavation sites. They stretched away from us for thousands of feet, each a miniature version of the quarry where the Churn was taking place. Mining equipment was everywhere, along with a tent city that sat within the shadow of a stone wall. The earthquakes had knocked dwellings down and gouged fissures into rock walls. Oily green goo spilled from the fissures, oozing rapidly into the bottom of the dig sites, the viscous liquid catching the moonlight with an unnatural gleam.

"That's going to be a lot of dice rolls," Sharon pointed out.

Robin inhaled, nostrils flaring, then began loping away, traversing the rocky trails that wove from one pit to the next. I followed, risking a glance over one shoulder at the sky as I did.

The System's champion continued to circle the Churn, harrying the defenders. It was too far and dark for me to make out specific details, but I thought the spells returning from below had noticeably slowed.

My dinosaur stopped at a site that looked no different from the rest. It was just a wedge-shaped hole, maybe a hundred feet across at the widest point, with mining gear stuffed to one side.

"What is it?" I asked.

He pointed at a tarp with his tail. It was about halfway down the slope, on a carved ledge next to a wheelbarrow.

I took a running leap, pushing off the ground with all my strength. The landing was rough but got me close enough for another inelegant vault to get me to the objective. I lifted the tarp, revealing a wudgie corpse. The miner had been horribly mauled, his (or her) features impossible to discern.

Leaning closer, I discovered several mining picks, each covered in dried blood, tucked behind the body.

"Good job," I told Robin, who replied, "Purr. Purr."

Waving him and Sharon down, I tossed a die. It pointed directly at the bottom of the dig site, at an uneven, but smooth, surface that might have been a wall. A gentle white-yellow glow burst from the die, consuming it and streaking to the wall. An arch of golden light appeared. Covered with ornate etching, it rumbled as it cracked open, revealing a passage that descended into darkness.

As we made our way to the entry, a roar shook the heavens as a fresh earthquake tore through the area.

I glared at the sky. "We don't need incentives to hurry up, thank you very much."

Chapter 71: Jade Queen

Robin had grown too large to fit through the door. I told him to keep a lookout. He made an unhappy rattling sound, then moved away, head lifted toward the most credible threat: the System's champion.

I murmured, "Why 'champion'? Why not boss, maybe World Boss or Invasion Boss or something equally cool?"

"Because the System is the opposite of cool," Sharon retorted. "Focus. We find Jasmine and convince her to enter the phylactery, then we look for the last clovash."

She punctuated the reminder with a stumbling lurch that nearly dropped her to her face. "I don't need the incentives to hurry up," I said again, catching her, then half-dragging her to the door.

It slid open quietly, allowing a gust of frigid air to swirl past the two of us. Odors of decay and death wafted out, even more pungent than we'd encountered earlier that night.

My HUD appeared with a warning.

System Connection Reduced

Details: This area is resistant to System penetration. Rewards and interactions have been limited to your local HUD only.

Sharon's eyes flitted to the message, and she hissed in displeasure. "The last time we saw that, we went full Friday Night at Freddies. I refuse." She lifted a hand, fingers in a pose I recognized as being for her light spell. "I swear, if we face any more undead, I'm going to be pissed. I'm over horror."

"We're both over horror," I echoed, announcing it to the air in a commanding tone.

The tunnel beyond the entrance was narrow at first, barely wide enough for the two of us side-by-side. Gold etchings wove through the stone like hieroglyphs, ones that appeared to tell the story of the founding of the cabal. Two figures, accentuated in orange and green gems, stood above a robed cadre, seeming to give books and artifacts to their followers.

"It looks oddly wholesome, doesn't it?" Sharon observed, leaning hard into my arm. "Benevolent, otherworldly entities coming to the planet and bestowing knowledge. That's the dream."

I snorted. "Telkazorin and benevolent aren't two words I'd use in the same sentence and we just met the guy...thing. Whatever."

At our conversation, smokeless torches in sconces lit up down the corridor. They revealed that the tunnel widened before connecting doorways branched from the main thoroughfare.

"Can you walk enough for me to take the lead?" I asked.

"Yeah. If I take another healing potion."

"Hate to use the resources, but here." I passed her one of mine, which she drank.

Shifting her weight to press her hand against the tunnel's wall rather than my shoulder, Sharon cast a spell on both of us. "This will heighten our Perception attribute for a while. It'll be useful, especially if this place goes all Temple of Elemental Evil on us. Gotta warn you, I'm low on mana. I've been casting all night and haven't had time to recharge. Don't expect me to make either of us invisible for at least two more hours."

At the rate the curse had been accelerating, forcing her to consume ever-more of our healing supplies, I didn't know if she even had three hours left.

My HUD translated the spell as my eyes, ears, and skin tingled, the enhancement heightening every sense. It even made my awareness of Robin and the currently stored Unforged Gauntlet sharper.

Spell Enhancement: Eagle-Eyed

Status: Active

Details: Provides a 50% boost to Perception.

Remaining Duration: 59 minutes 50 seconds.

I took the lead, careful to only move ten or fifteen steps ahead. The first set of arched openings to either side led to small, simple rooms. Wooden cots sat along the far walls, next to robes hanging from pegs. The spartan spaces didn't even have storage chests.

"Part of me wants to adventurize those rooms," I said, continuing down the corridor and past another pair of rooms. These were larger, and well-lit with torches, but also empty.

"Adventurize?" Sharon asked.

"You know, go in and dismantle everything in the hopes of finding a hidden ring or secret tunnel. Brian told me of a Game Master he knew who waited until the end of every dungeon to tell the players all the treasure they missed. Once, he replaced a towel rod with an Immovable Rod. Another time, it was a curtain hoop with a Ring of Invincibility."

"That guy sounds like a dick weasel," she said. "I always hated those types. People who run games for their own sakes, rather than for their players."

"Some people love a challenge," I pointed out. "Us completionist types enjoy being rewarded for being thorough."

"Uh huh. Speaking of which, how much is it tearing you up knowing that we left that last place without strip-mining it of every magical item?"

"Honestly, like you would not believe."

She laughed. It momentarily lightened the mood enough for me to think of something other than rapidly approaching disaster.

We came to another series of twisting tunnels, these branching off to the left and right as far as we could see, even with boosted Perceptions. Instead of taking the time to debate about which to take, I popped out a die with an arrow and rolled it.

It landed face down.

"So much for the cheap alternative." I switched it out with the remaining set of symbolic ones. As I tossed them, I focused my intention on finding Jasmine.

The dice bounced several times, spinning and churning as the magic took hold. After several seconds, they settled into an arrowhead pattern pointing directly ahead. One die vanished with a plume of pink smoke.

"Pink smoke, eh? I think it was mocking you," Sharon said.

"Better to know and not get lost than worry about the color of the smoke." I put them away and we continued down the corridor.

A few minutes later, we arrived in a large chamber. Statues in sconces framed the rectangular room, each dressed similarly to the armored sentinel we'd encountered at the Stephanos estate. A pair next to the entrance held shields rather than swords, their metallic surfaces etched with intricate wardings that shifted and warped as we watched.

In the center of the chamber, standing atop a raised dais of polished obsidian, was a carving of a beautiful woman. Carved of gold-veined jade, her aquiline face was framed in a cascading river of curly hair. She looked sad, or maybe frightened, her over-large eyes wide, the distinct pupils shining as if holding back a river of unshed tears. Dressed in a toga that concealed lush curves, the statue was so lifelike, so vivid, that I could have sworn she was an instant away from taking a breath.

At the statue's feet, a circle of runes pulsed with blue-green energy, casting eerie shadows across the floor that moved independently of any light source. Phylacteries, just like the ones we'd encountered at the estate, rested on the platform. Sitting in platinum holders, they glowed with magic far more potent than anything we'd previously encountered.

"Dean," Sharon said, directing my attention to the walls adjacent to the shield-wielders.

Glowing blue ovals lined the area. Like the screens in my Crossroads, each oval depicted a different place, only these were from a hip-high perspective. Most were filled with scenes of carnage from within Thanderkand. A few were of citizens rushing about to douse fires with buckets or spells. Two were from near the Churn, where the System's champion was no longer visible.

A woman's voice emitted from the statue. Velvet soft and youthful, it had a vaguely Asiatic accent. "Dean and Sharon, I'm glad to finally meet you. I worried you wouldn't make it in time."

I spun to face the speaker. "Jasmine?"

"That is the name I go by on this world, yes."

"Were you in control of the wudgies?"

The statue made a strained sighing sound. "No. They only left me with enough magic to instruct. I'm limited to observation, and even that takes effort."

"The cabal?"

"Your presence here tells me you already know the answer to that."

I looked to Sharon, who was sagging against the wall near the entrance. Her face was pale, drawn in a rictus of pain. "Jasmine, you know what Telkazorin sent us to do." It wasn't phrased as a question.

"I do," Jasmine replied. "He was not wrong in his assertion. My body was transmuted into a prison. The only way to escape is through a transfer."

"And if we facilitate this?" The Analyst pressed. "What do you intend?"

Movement on the wall next to Sharon drew my attention. A wudgie spy near the Churn had moved closer to the point of the invasion, close enough to look inside one of the ever-widening cracks near the ingress point. Slimy sludge rose from the fissure, gradually coalescing into a humanoid shape.

Stocky, but densely muscled, the creature sprouted long, serrated claws as it climbed out of the crevasse. It looked up, into the eyes of the watching wudgie, and I saw black pits and a mouth full of yellow, jagged teeth.

The wudgie turned to look down the length of the split, revealing that hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the gooey goblinoid things were bubbling out of the ground.

"Clearly, you and Dean have tricks up your sleeves. You two have pitted yourself against the System. I would propose an alliance, if that would be possible. Even better if you have some method to conceal my escape."

I cleared my throat, pointing at the vision. "Sharon, what's happening?"

Jasmine answered. "The System has forged a special doom for this world. It has at least the Unbreakable, Spawning, and Magekiller enhancements. It's fond of using those when it wants to conquer a world quickly. Until the monster dies, those minions will continue to spawn."

"And the fissures?"

Sharon stirred, finding the strength to step away from the wall to see what we were discussing. "A symptom of the System actively working to claim the world."

Echoing sounds came from down the hall. With painful clarity, I knew what must be happening. The champion's spawn must have drawn near the excavation. Robin was defending us.

Fully intending to go to his aid, I turned just in time to see a deep shadow detach from the hallway. It wasn’t as fast as any of the adventurers we’d fought during the Event, but proximity gave it the advantage. A spear, one coated with magic, burst through Sharon’s stomach, spilling blood and pale green mucus down her front. She gasped in pain, eyes wide with confusion as torch light struck the shadow, revealing the attacker.

It was Yellow-crest.

Chapter 72: Sacrifice

The clovash adventurer looked devastated. An aura of clinging necromancy and domination hovered around her body, strongly suggesting the consequences she’d paid to enter without the requisite blessings. As I studied her, I saw the whole truth of that thought play out.

Her clothes hung in tattered ruins, any magical armor she might have worn gone. Two of her four arms had been transformed, with one atrophied to a skeletal husk and the other turned to solid emerald. Despite her injuries, she maintained an air of calm, quiet professionalism as she looked over Sharon's shoulder at me.

"Do as I say or this female dies."

I barely heard her words; I was looking at Sharon.

The small, platinum-haired woman had both hands wrapped around the haft of the spear, knuckles white from effort to hold it in place. Her pain-clouded eyes locked with mine as she spoke into my thoughts. "This isn't exactly what I'd planned, but we'll make it work."

Yellow-crest, taking my quiet for acquiescence, continued. "You. Level six fighter. You will do my bidding. First, you will give me your healing items. All of them. If you obey quickly, I will set one aside for this female. Then, you will help me complete my quest. When the Event ends, you and the woman will be sent home. Accept defeat and we will all survive."

She didn't know about Sharon's curse. How could she? Unlike Telkazorin or, presumably, Jasmine, Yellow-crest didn't have a network of spies.

Sharon, thinking ahead, sent her telepathic message quickly. "The spear has done too much damage. I won't last another few minutes. Once I'm no longer an asset, she'll have no bargaining chip. More than likely, she'll try something to get you to respond emotionally. Maybe do something to my body. Then she'll use the opening to attack you. With either outcome, the Event will end, and Jasmine will be here with the champion. If we let that happen, the System wins."

Each sentence contributed to a case she was building; as if she were explaining what she was going to do next.

"Do you hear me?" Yellow-crest demanded. I'd missed something, but that didn't matter. Cataclysmic things were happening inside my chest.

With the clovash focused on me, Sharon lifted a hand from the impaling spear and slid it to her inventory pouch. The golden phylactery appeared, the sharpened spike at the bottom gleaming in the torchlight.

I saw what she intended, and it only made things worse.

Sharon had accepted that she would die and would do whatever it took to help me. Even if that meant turning her body into a shell for an Elder being.

Yellow-crest hissed in anger, jerking the spear inside Sharon's wound. The two-handed gesture was far stronger than Sharon's paltry Strength score, and made the analyst scream in pain. Fingers spasming, she dropped the phylactery. It struck the ground with a soft, metallic clink, then rolled to the base of the statue, leaving a thin trail of golden dust on the polished stone floor.

The clovash didn't notice.

I barely did. My chest constricted, tightening until I could barely breathe.

At some point, I didn't remember precisely when Sharon had become more than an ally. More than a party member. I'd reclassified her as a friend; as someone I trusted. Seeing her there, on the precipice, ready to give her life, unlocked a vault of memories I'd never wanted to confront again.

Having lived with her, been by her side, for these past hours while she slowly withered was hard enough. But this?

This was too much.

Anguish tore through me. Not just anguish, but denial.

Sharon was mine to protect.

A coronal ejection rose above my skin, churning and leaping as an aura of dark red spread. Beneath the red, the ever-present orange tint of the daemon's touch appeared, reinforcing and interacting with it in indescribable ways: patterns; no, symbols appeared.

Yellow-crest, out of patience, started to say something, then stopped, gawking at what she saw. "What..."

Seeing her opportunity, Sharon acted. With a mental, "You know what you have to do," she wrapped both hands around the spear and pulled, lunging as she did. The triangular-shaped head of the spear tore the hole in her stomach even wider as she freed herself, collapsing on the floor as vital fluids spilled from her.

"Hurry," she thought to me, mental voice barely a whisper. "Not. Much. Time."

A roar like a detonation shook the place, and I felt Robin's connection yank taut. It was a warning. The champion had arrived.

The words to the spell, the second I'd learned, came to my mind without thought. I looked at Yellow-crest, who'd adjusted her stance to come for me, and issued a command.

KNEEL.

She didn't kneel.

When my mind crashed into hers, Yellow-crest fell to the ground, face smashed to the floor. The impact cracked the stone beneath her, sending spider-web fractures across the ancient tile.

"You... will not... command me," she growled, her remaining hands clawing at the stone floor as a faint nimbus of blue resistance flickered across her skin. With visible effort, she pushed against my spell, managing to lift her head a fraction.

Sharon. Robin. Champion.

The triple need to save, protect, and kill tore my mind and heart in three directions as I stepped over to the rival adventurer. My spell had been far more potent than it should have been, particularly for the mana cost, but it was still a simple casting. The effect was already fading. In another second, she’d be free to act once more.

"Puny clovash," I snarled, holding a hand near her back as I summoned That Which Silences Volcanoes from my second vambrace. It appeared, falling a short distance to thud into her back with bone-cracking force. Slamming into the floor, she screamed in pain and frustration.

Yet she was still not done.

Eyes blazing with determination, her remaining hands formed complex gestures. Golden sparks danced between her fingers as she attempted a desperate casting. "We... do not... surrender," she hissed through gritted teeth.

The spell, whatever it was, crackled and died as I drove my heel into the center of her spine. The satisfying crunch silenced her, but didn't end her struggle. She continued clawing at the floor, darkened fingernails breaking as she growled and hissed, clearly intending to continue her mission.

She might as well have been trying to fly.

I brought my booted foot down on one hand, then the other, snapping the bones until she could no longer use either to cast spells.

"The Event ends when you die," I muttered, stopping short from killing the woman. Whipping around, I moved to Sharon. She was still breathing, but barely conscious. Knowing how many hit points she should have at her level, I pulled out the three remaining healing potions, and both healing salves.

The stubborn woman tried to close her mouth as I poured the potions between her lips. "You're wasting resources on me," she said woozily.

"You're not allowed to leave me," I said out loud, teeth gritted. "No one I care about can ever leave me again. Do you understand?" Hand on her jaw, I poured one of the remaining high-grade healing potions down her throat. That one finally closed the hole in her stomach, but only just.

Whether we had enough healing left to even keep her alive on Earth was an uncertain prospect.

Not that I gave a flying shit about that.

"The champion comes," Jasmine warned, her voice echoing off the jade and gold that formed her prison. "Whatever your plan, we should implement it before its minions arrive. They won't be strong, but their numbers will overwhelm even you."

I held up the metal vial. "What does this do?"

The statue answered, a hint of contemplation entering her tone. "Telkazorin uses those on his shells to ensure his safe arrival. It makes them vulnerable to his possession but provides a brief enhancement to their physical attributes and spellcasting ability. It also grants a life drain enhancement."

"Life drain? No passive regeneration?"

"No. He always preferred to shore up his shell's weaknesses with sacrifices from local stock. He said it reinforced his role among those who worship him."

I muttered, "As if I needed any further evidence that the guy was ultra evil."

Sharon had recovered enough to sit up and was glaring at me. "You're not going to do what I think you're going to do. Not without healing resources, and not without help. You can't solo things forever, Dean, and I'm in no condition to help you. Besides, I've taken too much damage and the curse is accelerating. I'm out of time."

"It will take me a while to acclimate to a new body," Jasmine added as the Analyst gave the statue a thoughtful look.

I checked my HUD, looking through my inventory for anything that might give us a chance. Scrolling all the way to the bottom, I found an item I'd forgotten about. It was one from my first Event. I extracted the Globe of Restoration from my inventory pouch and pushed it into Sharon's hands.

"You will not die," I told her, looking into her eyes, willing her to understand my conviction. The red aura churned against my skin, casting crimson shadows across the ancient stone walls.

Sharon returned my look, grudgingly nodding. "If there is any possible alternative, I'll find it."

I felt my connection to Robin pulse and surge, tightening...then, with a jarring snap, it went still.

My HUD flashed.

Companion Update: Your companion's corporeal body has been destroyed. Spend 200 mana to reconstitute it. Be aware, all adaptations and upgrades have been reset.

Backlash Suffered: Due to the violent nature of your companion’s death, your Focus and Mind attributes have been reduced by 25% for 1-hour. This may impact your decision making process and any associated abilities.

It wasn't possible for me to feel any angrier or more driven. Robin's death. No, his sacrifice, just pushed me into another place.

Meditative calm bubbled out of the roaring denial threatening to force its way past my lips. Straightening my shoulders, I unscrewed the metal vial and drank. The potion ran down my throat in a thick, sludgy slide. It tasted like strawberries.

My HUD flickered with green Parasite text.

Organic Enhancement: Embodiment of Power

Status: Active

Details: Provides a 35% multiplicative boost to Strength, Toughness, Grace, Focus, Mind, and Perception. Reduces Attunement by 50% to a specific category of possession effects. You have gained a life-drain attack. All attacks you make, via spells or weapons connected to your body (including the Unforged Gauntlet) will heal you an equal amount.

Remaining Duration: 2 minutes

Mana Sensitivity Interaction: The multiplicative effect has been increased to 70% and the duration increased to 4 minutes

"You can't defeat the champion," Jasmine warned. "I've been watching you long enough to know your capabilities. You lack the versatility or skills required to face such an opponent. You will die saving a doomed world."

I waved at the blue-lined images on the walls. One showed a family, not yet evacuated, running through the streets. A wudgie child, small enough to be mistaken as an infant, clutched a broken doll in her thin arms.

Another perspective revealed a horde of monster spawn streaming toward the city. It would take them time to get there, but when they did nothing would survive. With their main defenders presumably dead, and no one to stand between them and total annihilation, the refugees might have half an hour, at best.

"Those children aren't NPCs. No one here is." Putting the empty vial back in my inventory pouch, I leaned down to pick up Yellow-crest’s discarded spear. Its magical properties appeared on my display. I acknowledged them, then stored it in my now-empty vambrace. With my other hand, I summoned the Unforged Gauntlet.

It didn't have much time left.

I'd need to make it count.

"Are you hearing me?" Jasmine said, her soft voice sharp. "This is suicide. That monster is unbreakable. Your fists won't even crack its armor."

I turned to the tunnel, where green shapes appeared. Hands curling into fists, my voice came out as a dragon's growl. "Watch me."

With a snapping motion, I sent the Demolition Sphere careening down the hall. Leaning into a sprint, I followed as it smashed through the face of one, two, three of the spawned monsters. The System counted each as a valid kill for my title.

When I reached the exit, I'd added an extra 60% on top of the potion's benefits. It made me so strong that my enchanted vambraces threatened to crack against the flexing of my forearms.

***

"He is ignorant," Jasmine said as sounds of combat came from the hallway. "As you've told him, he cannot simply fight his way through every problem."

Sharon, exhausted, in agony, and more than a little frustrated with Dean herself, managed a shallow smile. "You'd be surprised what that man can do when he sets his mind to it."

"The red aura. It's..."

"I know." Sharon bit her lip, shaking her head. "I don't understand it."

"In all my ages of living, I have never seen such a confluence. It should not be possible. Daemons do not behave the way his does. And the other...it shouldn't be as strong in him."

"I agree. It was just a little blood." Sharon inhaled a painful breath and activated the orb Dean had given her. It glowed, floating above her as it poured healing into her cursed flesh. It still might not be enough. Or maybe it would be. The timing would be tighter than she'd have liked.

"His death will rob us of a great research opportunity."

Indignant, Sharon shot back, "Don't count him out. I've seen him do at least one impossible thing every day that I've known him."

The champion's challenging roar shook the place, followed by a far too loud one from Dean. Sharon tried to do the math in her head. Depending on how the potion interacted with System enhancements, Dean's Attributes could be at the pinnacle of what was theoretically possible.

If anyone could punch through unbreakable armor, it would be him.

She cast one of her predictive spells.

Predictive Spell Accuracy: 25% (Reduced due to interference)

Odds of Dean Victory: 3%

That was better than she'd have guessed.

Turning to the statue, Sharon licked her lips. What was the saying? Ah, yes. Time to toss the dice. Grabbing the golden phylactery, she said, "Jade Queen, I have a proposition for you."

The statue took several seconds to respond. "You know my title?"

"I've known it since I saw the statue," Sharon bluffed. It was an educated guess, an observation based on the very reason she'd come to help Dean in the first place.

"Knowing that, you still wish to negotiate?"

"I do." With her other hand, Sharon fished out a bean. Rolling it between her fingers, she spoke quickly, softly, laying out what would happen next.

After Dean's victory.

Chapter 73: Elder Corruption

I exited the narrow corridor and found myself in a landscape transformed. Cracked rocks formed a V-shaped slice in the far wall, through which noxious green liquid poured. It bubbled and popped, although no fresh monsters emerged from it.

Standing between the rocks, perched on two enormous, reptilian legs, was a creature that might once have been a prehistoric version of a dragon. Its armored body was covered in fungal growths. They sprouted over its head, covering where its eyes should have been and spread down its back where they merged with a pair of shoulder-mounted red wings. Its forelimbs appeared mutated, as they were far more humanoid and muscular than the rest of the body would suggest. As it crouched, regarding me with its blind face, a trio of spear-tipped tails thrashed behind it.

The thing was even bigger up close, the scale dwarfing anything my mind, even enhanced, could easily process. It filled a full forty degrees of my vision even fifty feet away.

My HUD labeled it a System Champion (Wyvern; Unbreakable; Spawning; Magekiller Variant).

On a lark, I tried casting Possess Interior at the thing. Our wills didn't even collide; my spell simply failed.

The wyvern crouched lower, great nostrils flaring as it opened its mouth to reveal yellowed rows of needle-sharp teeth. I felt its aura pulse and churn, hot with System magic. Pressure gathered around me as a telekinetic claw threatened to crush me in place.

I hadn't been expecting that.

It was the same as the dragon from Earth, only subtly different. That dragon hadn't been fully converted to the System. It had possessed enough will to fight back, to help me. This wyvern was entirely consumed, its free will and intellect merged with the System's agenda.

Narrowing my eyes, I flexed my fingers and shrugged against the wyvern's grasp. It was like pushing against the weight of an ocean, like wrestling with a cosmic force.

The ground beneath my hovering boots cracked, splintering as bits of stone flew into the air around me. Drool slid between the champion's lips as it directed its effect, causing the shattered rocks to dive and slice my flesh. Each left a tiny cut, just enough to draw a sliver of blood. A disproportionate amount of mana went with the cuts, rapidly depleting my reserves.

Weakness flowed through my helpless body, threatening to end the fight before I'd even had a chance to take a swing.

My class was active. Furious Killer was maxed out. I'd taken a potion that amplified me to the stratosphere. And, worst of all, the monster across from me had killed my pet dinosaur.

Sharon had been right all along. I wasn't a berserker or a barbarian. I certainly wasn't a Hulk. There were limits to what a fighter could do with his fists.

"Good thing I'm not a fighter," I said through clenched teeth. "Let me show you why draining my mana is a mistake."

My palm burned with icy cold as the stone shards burst with red and orange light. Alien symbols appeared on each, then spread to the nearest unmarked stones. In a flash, thousands of the shards all had the same mark.

The red and orange aura surrounding my body diminished, fading as the force holding me in place softened. Suddenly, I was strong enough to move. Not much. Just enough.

Lifting my hand, I aimed at the wyvern and unleashed the Demolition Sphere.

It flew, drawing my attention and vision with it. The stone shards, swept up in the vacuum of its passage, went with it. With a scream of challenge, the wyvern opened its mouth, green light appearing in its gullet. I directed the sphere into it.

Jaws snapping shut, the champion managed to close its mouth an instant before impact. The sphere slammed against armored lips, dealing only a microscopic amount of damage. Beside it, the hail of stone chips slammed into the monster's body. They did not appear to damage the creature, but they did end the crushing effect.

Freed, I leaped into motion, running toward the thing. As I did, I reached to my hip, pulling one of my two Long Range Jumpers out and sticking it to me.

Crossing the ground at my new (temporary) speed, I recalled the sphere as I tried formulating a plan. I inspected its hide, looking for any sign of weakness. Closer now, and with a monumentally high Perception, I saw what I would have otherwise missed.

Other than the Demolition Sphere only two other areas had sustained any damage from the stone shards. The fungal growths covering each of the wyvern's eyes leaked yellow-white pus. It wasn't blood, but it was a certain sign that it could be damaged.

CRACK!

A tail split the sound barrier as it flashed over the creature's back toward me. I moved nearly as fast as the champion, bringing my gauntlet up to block the impact.

SNAP!

The sphere, along with two of the blades, shattered against the armored flesh. A cloud of daemonic orange surrounded the appendage, sinking into the meat. I didn't have time to grasp what was happening as the wyvern drew the tail back and brought a claw down, deliberately severing the limb. It flopped on the ground, steaming as the orange mist darted back to my hand, merging with the scar tissue.

I was not complacent while the monster dealt with the effect. Drawing Yellow-crest's spear from my vambrace, I hefted and threw it at one of the monster's eyes.

High Attributes made up for a lack of skill. The wyvern jerked to one side, trying to dodge the attack, but misjudged the weapon's speed. Yellow-crest's enchanted spear hit at an angle, gouging through layers of fungal growth. Sap-like ooze pulsed from the wound in thick, cloying globules.

The wyvern's head snapped back as it bellowed to the sky in agony. Once again, emerald light glowed between its jaws. Remembering how it had defended its mouth, I dropped my hand down, drawing one of my two Anguish Scythes from an inventory pouch. Bounding from rock to rock, I leaped and tossed the weapon directly into the monster's maw.

I saw the gleaming magical blade slice across the roof of a pink mouth just before a blast of green foam came boiling out.

"Crap," I shouted, activating the Long Range Jumper. It teleported me to the last place I'd been looking: right above the dragon's back.

My HUD updated the Jumper, indicating it had one charge left as I fell just below the wings. Lashing with the gauntlet, I managed to jam the remaining blade through thick, leathery wing membrane, tearing a five-foot-long incision as I tried to grip the thing's sides with my thighs.

Armored plates cut into my flesh. What little fabric still covered my body after a full night of combat did nothing to diminish the pain as I squeezed hard, hoping to maintain position long enough to cut through an entire wing.

Green goo, vomited in a plume in the air, landed. It coated the monster's body, having no effect. On me, it felt like battery acid and sunburn had a mutated child. I roared in pain, digging into my determination and outrage, hoping that Override Engine would help push back some of the effect.

It didn't.

With a sudden, bunching motion, the wyvern leaped into the air, wings flapping. The wind blew away some of the goo. Other bits bunched together, coalescing into their humanoid forms. I had to hold on for my life as the monster ascended. They strode across its back as if the g-forces meant nothing.

Raking a hand across my eyes to clear them, sputtering to spit the taste of burning from my mouth, I swatted at an approaching minion, slicing it in half.

Doing so reset Furious Killer's timer but nearly cost me my seat. Blood and goo coated my legs, making purchase difficult, and the wyvern wasn't trying to do me any favors. It banked and rolled, wings flapping furiously, all while more goo goblins came my way.

Claws raked at my back, then my sides, as I was forced to grab the base of a wing to keep from falling. My head ached, a migraine rapidly working its way through the protective cold of my new spells. With the ache, so too came the rage. It bubbled up, redoubling, feeling that it would never end.

I could give in. Could set it free. My anger had saved me before, hadn't it? Wasn't this the best possible time to let it run free?

In just a few minutes, I'd wake up and it would be all over. I'd have done...whatever I had to do to survive.

The temptation came and went, shoved aside as I flexed my legs, peeling the ruin of my inner thighs away from the wyvern's hide. Rotating as the creature banked, I used my grip on the wing as a pivot, flipping to hook my ankles through the hole I'd cut in the wing.

Using only the muscles in my thighs and ankles to stay attached to the flapping wing, I swung the Unforged Gauntlet at the swarm of goblins, slicing through one after the other with the single intact claw. I felt a modicum of healing pulse through me as I dealt with the creatures. It was barely a trickle compared to the tendon-snapping damage simply holding onto the wyvern's wing caused, but it did help.

SNAP!

One of the two remaining tails lashed at me, spearing my back. The barbed tip deflected off my spine, then dug between two of my ribs where it spread, becoming an anchor.

Annihilating anguish scattered all thought. I twisted, adrenaline-fueled outrage all that allowed me to move, and jammed the final claw into the tail.

CRACK!

The entire Unforged Gauntlet vanished, becoming a far more intense orange-tinted mist as it spread up and down the length of the limb.

The wyvern screeched, the sound all pain and confusion.

"That's right, asshole," I said, "time for a taste of your own medicine."

It probably didn't understand what I said, but it certainly got the tone. With a growl so deep it would likely have struck a brown note in most people, it wiggled the tail in my back violently enough to rip me free of its wing. For a timeless second, I hung in the air, held in space hundreds of feet above the rocky ground only by my ribs.

Telkazorin's potion kicked in as the Unforged Rod, reduced to its primal state, did awful things to the wyvern's tail. An ocean of healing poured into me, closing my wounds. My back tried to heal around the barbed tail, which just added insult to the already insanity-causing trauma.

Just like that, I had a good idea of how Wolverine must have felt during comic book fights like this.

Spoiler: it sucked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the orange haze spread through the wyvern's tail. The final tail snapped over, tip striking not at me but at the base of the afflicted one. Its strike did not quite do what it hoped.

Orange mist thinned as its influence spread, rapidly engulfing the tip of the third tail.

For a heartbeat, I found myself wondering why the daemonic influence wasn't spreading into the main body itself. Then I caught on. Like the interior of the wyvern's mouth, the tails were part of the original body; they hadn't been visibly augmented or changed by the System.

The wyvern looped, swirling in a circle that nearly made me vomit, and slashed with its claws at its own tails, starting with the one holding me.

It came free, taking me with it.

Chapter 74: Unbreakable

The wyvern reached for its final tail. Off balance, frantic to dismember the troublesome limb, it pivoted on its axis. One ancient redwood-sized leg clipped me as I exited its orbit.

It was like gravity decided it hated me, then tossed a moon at my chest. Bones broke as, anime-style, I accelerated beyond terminal velocity into the rocky ground. The embodied ideal of rocks themselves also decided they despised me as they cracked beneath the impact, sending jagged spikes along my ruined back and tortured spine.

I was pulverized, liquefied in ways that my brain simply refused to process. Only my Toughness, so substantial I could withstand a bazooka blast to the face, kept me alive. It was still a close thing. My thoughts swam, migraine and concussion battling it out to see which would get me killed first.

Blinking, I saw dawn lighting the horizon. It framed the twisting dragon as it got both forelimbs around its tail.

In the second before it yanked the limb free, one final, spastic pulse of healing flowed into my body. Tissue, ligament, and bone knit with a speed that would absolutely cause me all sorts of psychological trauma after this was over.

Gasping, I turned my head to the underground entrance. Sharon was leaning against the open doorway. Pale enough to be mistaken for an undead, she held the phylactery in one hand. It was glowing now, pulsating with an ambience that reminded me all too well of when I'd taken up the Unforged Rod.

In the other she held one of the two shields I'd noticed next to the entrance.

"Dean! Jasmine said it’s a relic." She tossed it as a shadow darkened the sky.

I looked up, my excessive Perception allowing me to count the scales on the wyvern's underbelly as it descended directly for my prone, nearly atomized body.

Biting back every curse word I knew, I reached out, knowing there was no chance for the shield to reach me in time.

An aura of sizzling heat baked my skin.

The rear legs of the wyvern touched ground. It folded them, fully intent on using that unbreakable, armored stomach to smash me into paste. I felt the scraping of harder-than-steel scales against my legs.

Then the edge of the shield slid into my hand. Manipulating it with the Grace of a galactic-class juggler, I spun it around and got my arm inside the leather straps on the interior just as the monster entombed me.

Everything faded to black, then brilliant golden as a thin, protective dome projected from the shield over my body. It was thinner at my feet, yet still just enough to prevent them from being crushed.

CRACK!

Rocks broke beneath me, contributing to a growing catalog of back wounds I'd suffered during this Event.

The shield, I recognized without checking my HUD, only provided a certain amount of coverage. I also had no doubt that there would be a limit to how much protection the object would offer, especially against a 'Magekiller' champion.

No sooner did the thought come than I noticed the golden edges beginning to throw off brilliant sparks.

Swapping the shield out from my scarred hand, I made a fist and punched the wyvern's underbelly. I was given two rewards for that. One, I learned that the shield's effect did not prevent me from attacking outward. That was good. Two, as strong as I had (temporarily) become, I was not "punch an unbreakable ancient dragon in the armor" strong. Certainly, my bones weren't.

"Yeah. That broke something." Flexing the numb fingers, I tried a different approach. "I thought once you were destroyed I could recall you. What gives?"

Amusement stirred deep within. It felt as though some ancient, unknowable, and not-quite-all-powerful being was laughing at me.

Given the circumstances, I did not appreciate it.

"Get your ass here right now," I snapped, anger overriding any sense of diplomacy.

Orange fire blossomed from my hand as magic drained from my core. I gasped, weakened by the abrupt exit of almost all the remaining mana in my body, as the Unforged Rod reappeared. It was as I'd last seen it, just a simple metal stake. The runes along its length were dormant, indicating its magic was fully spent.

I took a deep, steadying breath. "Okay, unbreakable object. Let's see how you handle my rod." In retrospect, it was not the most heroic thing I could have said given the circumstances.

Muscles tensing, I jammed the sharp tip against the underbelly. There wasn't much room to work, maybe eight or nine inches, so I had to deliver the blow at an angle. It scraped off the scales, which produced even more sparks.

"Leverage. Need leverage." Remembering how I'd fought the takaltu, I shoved the point between the shield and the wyvern's underbelly.

Brighter and brighter sparks flew from the envelope of protection, only now they were joined by others from the champion's invulnerable skin.

I applied every technique I could think of, adjusting the hilt of the relic against the stones beneath me and angling the shield to ensure the point dug directly into the scales.

Flicker. Flicker.

The shield's protection kicked off, then back on, allowing the monster to settle even more of its weight onto me. Bones threatened to snap in my legs. My recently healed ribs creaked. A volcanic tsunami of pain ripped through my head.

And worst of all: I realized the wyvern stank. It smelled like a rotting snake mixed with a skunk, and every bit of nasty undead goo we'd encountered in the catacombs. This was the manifestation of unwashed armpit; the embodiment of the foulest possible goat cheese.

I gagged so forcefully that I nearly missed what happened next.

A faint line, barely a thread, of Parasite green, wove from my hand and into the hilt of the Unforged Rod.

Sizzle Sizzle Pop!

Cold boiled from the wyvern's stomach as the rod finally pierced the monster's invulnerable hide. As soon as it did, orange flickered into life at the base of the hilt. A small pulse of healing came with it.

Certain Telkazorin's buff potion would expire any second, I intensified my efforts, pushing and shoving with all my might. The injured scale parted, separating reluctantly, but with increasing speed. Then, with an oddly quiet zipper sound, the Unforged Rod made it through the armor.

A gravelly voice crowed in triumph, the sound rippling through my body and the ground beneath me like a clarion bell.

That which is unbreakable has been broken.

At the words, half of the stake’s length vanished into the wyvern's vulnerable underbelly the instant the resistance vanished. With a rush, vitality poured into me as the relic blossomed with renewed power.

The wyvern jerked away, leaping back so quickly that it nearly tore the rod from my grasp. Instead, it pulled me halfway to my feet before the relic came free.

I staggered, nearly five feet deep in a Dean-shaped hole. The shield fell away as I saw green fire ignite in the wyvern's throat. It flapped its wings, the tattered one moving slower than the other, and began to lift off.

"No. You. Don't." I said, using the last charge of the Jumper as I focused on the monster's wounded eye.

Chapter 75: Messy

I struck with the relic in my extended arm, point first. It sliced through the already wounded tissue effortlessly, creating a cavity nearly four feet deep and a foot and a half in diameter. The wyvern, not thinking, batted at me with the palm of one of its augmented limbs.

In truth, against someone else, the smack might have had a catastrophic effect. All it did for me, besides adding yet another insultingly painful back injury to my list, was shove me deeper.

The next few seconds were a lesson in why being as big as an airplane wasn’t always advantageous. Holding the Unforged Rod sideways, I used every bit of my boosted strength and speed to transform its eye into a temporary home.

A substance with the chunky texture of clam chowder flowed around me, coating my face, filling my nostrils and ears. It took real determination and self-awareness to not growl or scream anything as I tried to think of what I was doing as milk frothing.

Whole body milk frothing, just with clam chowder. Yeah. That was much better.

Oozing tissue parted and fell away, giving me room in the cavernous ocular cavity. The wyvern, driven half mad by pain and frustration, tried smacking me free again. This time, it shoved a claw inside the chasm to fish me out. Feeling the unique magical pressure of its approach, I braced myself against the orbital bone and lashed out with a foot, forcing the nail away. Instead of fishing me out, the wyvern ended up scooping out a bunch of puss-adjacent eye goo.

Hearing it make a whining sound of pain gave me the warm fuzzies.

Unable to fish me out, it changed tactic, instead jerking its head from side to side. That also didn’t work as it might have hoped, as the messy interior provided a degree of padding. Plus, I was doing a whole heaping assload of damage to the thing, which provided both me and the rod with fuel.

SLAM-SLAM-SLAM!

It jammed its head against the ground, bludgeoning itself face-first into the stone. I slipped, desperately shoving the rod’s point through a vulnerable membrane. It hooked around a bone, holding me in place as my feet dangled free of the wyvern’s face.

My boots were potent relics. They weren’t made to stop this sort of direct assault, however. Both feet hit the ground once and then again. By the third impact, I had the timing down and kicked off, becoming the equivalent of a Dean-sized nail as I hit the very back of the monster’s eye socket.

Click!

The impact of the rod against bone was a promising sound, suggesting I just might be able to earn an upgrade from ophthalmologist to neurosurgeon in one go.

Hell, if I was lucky, maybe the System would reward me with both titles.

I sensed growing desperation in the champion as it lifted its head and drove two claws directly into its own eye. The situation gave me a weird amount of déjà vu as I recalled Telkazorin doing something similar.

Unlike its first attempt, this one was serious: the wyvern held nothing back, cracking its own bones to reach for me. To make matters even more interesting, the potion I’d taken chose that moment to wear off. Not only did I lose a third of my strength, but I also hadn’t been able to kill anything for over thirty seconds, meaning Furious Killer was also out of time.

A claw clipped my side, drawing fresh blood and pain I could not simply ignore. Moving out of the way of the other, I smashed my forearm against the hilt of the Unforged Rod, forcing the tip into a denser part of the wyvern’s skull.

ROOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAR! SNAP!

A bonequake traveled through the monster’s skull as it tore free half the side of its own head to make room for more claws. All too welcome fresh air told me just how truly catastrophic the self-inflicted wound must be.

I ignored it, using the light from the nearly fully-ignited Unforged Rod to guide my next strike, and my next one. It was deep, at least ten inches inside the bone, but I doubted it would be enough given the monster’s size.

Two padded, reptilian fingers closed around my lower body.

Desperate, I wrenched the relic to the side as it yanked me free. Covered in goo and no longer strong enough to live in the same strength zip code as the wyvern, I lost hold of the rod as I fell to the messy ground beneath the hulking monster.

It followed my descent, looking down at me from nearly twenty feet above. Backlit by a mixture of stars and pink-hued sky, I got a good look at the damage.

Fully half the wyvern’s head was gone. Its eye, a nearly seven-foot-diameter hole, was a hollowed-out mess. A cluster of tissue I assumed had belonged to a nerve, rendered little more than paste.

Jaws opening wide, it leaned down. As it did, the crack I’d missed, the one deep inside the skull, gave way. Organic slop and the remnants of true wyvern’s blood, likely all that had been left inside the tortured creature, gushed from the wound. My relic, now a solid pillar of bright orange, rotated as it joined the mess, falling just a few feet away.

The wyvern wavered, teeth no more than six feet from me, then fell over, its body twitching.

“That sucked,” I said to the air, abruptly more exhausted than I’d ever felt in my entire life. Turning around, I found that the wyvern and I were once again at the base of the excavation site. With the passing of the monster, the rivers of acid green had ceased to flow, as had the earthquakes.

Worry for Sharon pushed through fatigue and a list of pains long enough to make an entire team of hockey players proud. I stumbled over to the tunnel entrance. The second shield lay just inside the opening, but there was no sign of her, Yellow-crest, or the statue.

My HUD lit up with Parasite and normal System text.

In green font was:

Override Engine Update - Blood Sanctification Achieved

Details: Primordial fire stirs within you. The draconic blessing required to earn Override Engine has been strengthened through Blood Sanctification. Your next Attunement trait will reflect this improvement.

Below that, in System font, was:

Event Update: You have successfully completed this event by defeating all opposing adventurers. This world will be restored to Protected status. You’ve also defeated a System champion and earned a new title as a reward. You have 30 seconds to collect any dropped or fallen gear before you are returned to your Crossroads.

My instinct was to tell the System that I didn’t give a shit about loot; I wanted to know what had happened to Sharon. Then a plume of swirling orange drew my attention.

Bending down to grab the shield, I added it to an inventory pouch before turning to see what my relic was up to.

Chapter 76: Attunement

Now fully charged, the Unforged Rod’s magic swirled among the disquieting remains of the wyvern. Orange, streaked with red, they expanded rapidly, becoming a cloud of dust. Remembering Gost’s words about attunement, I considered my options.

If I left the relic unattuned, it would continue to have a degree of freedom. It could talk with Robin, among other (very naughty) things. The question was, did I want a being that really didn’t understand the very concept of ‘life’ being naughty? What if it did something thinking it was helping me, but that led to the opposite result?

Was it safe having the equivalent of a nuclear-powered, Hellraiser-adjacent entity pissing on someone else’s flowers just to make me happy?

Put that way, it was an easy decision. Inhaling, I sprinted, crossing to the swirl and leaping, diving headfirst into the conflagration.

Reality.

Flickered.

Time.

Warped.

I was standing inside an unknowable space, balancing precariously atop a sliver of solid white light. That light, something told me, represented my connection to my reality. If it went out, my life as I’d known it would end.

Ahead of me was an infinite abyss. There were no stars, no shining objects to define the space; only a darkness so profound that it likely would have driven me insane, had the light not anchored me. To my right, barely visible, was an outline of a cave big enough to house an aircraft carrier. A red-limned reptilian shape, clearly that of a dragon, stirred in its depths.

I felt it regard me. Felt an intellect that was more than bestial, less than human.

It waited.

Turning to survey my surroundings again, I found the abyss had changed. Now, it looked like the interior of my Crossroads, countless screens replaying specific moments from my life. I didn’t need to look closely to know what was in them.

Who was in them.

Simply seeing them had given me the final piece to a puzzle I’d been too stubborn, or too busy, to piece together.

Closing my eyes, I drew on my sense of things, on my connection to this place. It was like reaching out to my companion, just more….fundamental, less structured. Zetoliath hadn’t come to me willingly, or through a traditional ritual.

I opened my eyes and found the creature. It had adopted the shape of a man-shaped shadow, arms too long, fingers elongated into scalpels, each digit filled with stars.

“I now know my one truth. Our one truth.”

It waited.

Snorting, I shook my head. “It was there all along, wasn’t it? I just didn’t want to accept it for what it was.”

A voice rose from the collection of screens, each a snapshot of memory pieced together to make a sentence. “Dean, you like to take the hard way around. That’s okay. I’ll always be here. What will our truth be, my…” The last word didn’t come from my brother, but from the shadow itself. It came out with the depth and reverberation of an earthquake. Or maybe how a god might sound.

Master.

It was an odd thing to be called, especially by this creature. Yet I understood. Zetoliath wasn’t telling me that he was my slave; far from it. Rather, he was pledging allegiance to me, swearing the equivalent of an oath of fealty.

Essentially, he’d promised to follow my lead and obey my commands.

All I had to do was say the words.

I steadied myself. It was easier here, in a timeless place where none of my physical aches or other concerns existed.

“I am the Apocalypse BREAKER.” Fingers curling, I lifted a fist. “I may not be a light in the dark, or hero worth looking up to. That’s okay. Wherever there are tyrants, wherever evil threatens worlds and lives, that is where we will go. We’ll find the ones who can’t be beaten, the unbreakable monsters, and…”

The daemon’s utterance joined mine. At first it was discordant, but as each letter slid into place, our voices harmonized.

We. Will. Break. Them.

Character Update

Blood Sanctification Gained: Your next Attunement trait will enhance Override Engine. In addition, your connection to dragons and dragon-kind has deepened. The full consequences of this are yours to explore.

Attunement Complete: Attuning the Unforged Rod has given the associated daemonic entity focus and purpose, while limiting some of its capabilities. While an early assessment indicated that the entity within the rod and your companion would no longer be able to communicate after attunement, things may not be so simple. Expect opportunities for “side” advancement that empower your daemonic allies in new and interesting ways.

Identified Spell Details

Name: Word of Command

Mana Cost: 15

Range: 15 feet (30 feet with current Mana Sensitivity enhancements)

Duration: 1 second (2 seconds with current Mana Sensitivity enhancements)

Description: This spell allows you to issue a one-word command to a target. It will pit your Focus attribute (with bonuses from Mind) against their Attunement (with bonuses from Focus). As with other old magic spells, there are certain intangibles involved.

Limitations: Ambiguous commands may not be followed to the letter. Commands that cannot normally be followed willingly such as ‘Die’ will fail. Casting this spell subsequent times on a target will gradually increase their resistance to it, giving them an additional 10% bonus to withstand the effects per casting. This bonus resets every 24 hours.

Inventory Update and Combat Summary

Dean Versus System Champion

Victor: Dean

Enemies: Level X System Champion

Losses: A lot of hit points; severe psychological trauma

Total Awards: 38,250 experience points; new title.

Event Awards: 15,000 credits

Updated Inventory

· Shield of the Jade Queen’s Guardian (Relic defensive item; details below) X 2

Shield of the Jade Queen’s Guardian

Historical Context: The Jade Queen specialized in creating powerful artifacts of protection. This shield was part of a set of six given to her elite personal guard, and enchanted specifically to resist the System’s influence.

Details:

This is a nearly-indestructible shield that can be used to block or deflect a wide variety of attacks. It also conveys three additional, level-dependent benefits as described below:

· Health Wall: Once per day you may trigger an effect that shields your entire body from damage. This shield runs out when it suffers 2 times your current hit points or after 30 seconds, whichever comes first. Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Shield Other: Target an ally within 200 feet and throw the shield while using this ability. The shield will travel to that ally and provide passive protection for 6 seconds. This effect uses your attributes and skills. When it ends, the shield falls unless Recall is used. Level Requirement to Use: 6

· Recall: The shield may now be infused with mana (up to 300). Mana depletes at a rate of 3 points per day. You may spend 25 mana (stored or otherwise) to recall the shield from up to 2,500 feet. This is a telekinetic effect and uses your Attributes to determine flight speed, force, and accuracy. Level Requirement to Use: 10

Chapter 77: Event’s End

My vision fuzzed as everything went out of focus. Returning to my sense of time and place was far more unsettling than interacting with my daemon had been. Aches and pains, the accumulation of so much trauma, screamed for attention.

Worse than the physical pain was the emotional. I’d lost Robin. In the heat of the fight, I’d managed to put it aside. Now, it hit harder than a sledgehammer to the heart.

Sharon. My last sight of her, holding the charged phylactery, returned. Cold ran down my back as I saw the most likely outcome: she’d killed Yellow-crest, then stabbed herself with it, fulfilling Telkazorin’s wishes.

The idea was unthinkable.

As my eyes adjusted to the new location, I called her name. “Sharon? Are you here? Are you okay?” There was no reply, other than a meaningful echo.

A click of hooves on stone reminded me of what I’d momentarily forgotten. I wasn’t on Earth; the System had returned me to the Crossroads.

Steward said, “You have a Crossroads now. Most of the time, when an Event ends, you’ll come here first.”

I’d forgotten that adventurers didn’t automatically get these. At the end of the last event, I hadn’t had one. Getting Steward from a conquest was the only reason I had mine.

Fixing my gaze on the alpaca-sheep hybrid, I demanded, “Do you know if Sharon is okay?”

He shook his head. “I do not know. I can’t even perceive events that unfold during your Event, not without a special upgrade.”

“I need to get home. I need to know what happened to her.”

“Dean.”

I looked around, trying to find an escape hatch or teleportation pad, or whatever it took to return to Earth. “Where do I go? How do I get out of here?”

“Dean,” Steward said, firmly this time.

I started, surprised at the tone. “What?”

“This is a near-timeless place. It’s also the only opportunity you’ll have to spend those credits you got on meaningful, long-term investments before the next Event. I know you want to check on your friend. I can smell how worried you are. But there’s nothing you can do here to check on her or help her, and there’s everything to lose if you don’t use this opportunity strategically. There’s a work request. You have to answer it before it times out.”

“A…work request?” I didn’t want to listen. Strategy and planning meant less than nothing if I’d cost my friend her life.

My HUD flickered with text.

Personal Crossroads Details

Assigned to: Dean Williams

Access: Limited – Expanded +1 (Guide)

Features: Quest Filter, Ultra-high-mana, timeliness

Upgrade Slots Available: 3 (See the upgrade list in your HUD for details)

Work Request: Yellow-crest of the clovash has renounced her combatant status and declared herself a non-combatant. She has offered you her services as a magical tutor.

Cost: 20,000 credits for a Companion upgrade; 4,000 credits for a Habitation Module; 5,000 credits for a Crafting module suitable for the tutor – Total: 29,000 credits.

Total Accrued Credits: 63,300

Do you wish to accept this invitation? If you do not, she will be returned to her home system.

I blinked, concern momentarily replaced with wonder. Sharon hadn’t killed herself. She’d used the phylactery to end Yellow-crest as part of an agreement with Jasmine.

Jasmine could be the perfect mentor, assuming we could get it around the System. She’d also compliment Steward’s insights, with direct information about frontier worlds and old magic.

The problem was, I didn’t know if I could trust her. Telkazorin didn’t strike me as the sort of being to do anything without a selfish motive. What if there was a hidden agenda I couldn’t anticipate? If the two elder beings had been working against the System for literally millennia, could inviting her into my Crossroads be a huge mistake?

I desperately wanted Sharon here to explain what was happening. That only reminded me that there was no guarantee my friend had gotten home intact enough to survive.

“I hate complexity,” I said, running my fingers through my hair and trying to think.

“You’ll need to make a decision,” my guide prompted. “This is a use it or lose it kind of deal.”

“No need to rush or anything,” I groused, deciding to trust Sharon. If she’d arranged this, it must have been on purpose. “Yeah. We’re doing it.”

My next concern was how to talk with Yellow-crest safely.

Addressing Steward, I asked, “I don’t suppose there’s any sort of privacy module we can get? Something to keep prying eyes out of the Crossroads?” What we needed was a way to import tech from Earth into it, but I doubted that was an option.

He started to shake his head, then seemed to rethink it. “Most of the races associated with the System are at least a little…shy about the most private spaces. They prefer to think of their subjects as chaste game pieces, not living beings. Purchasing a sauna, or an upgraded bedroom might achieve some of what you wish. It would still be a risk, but far less than you might think.”

I checked the HUD, concentrating on Comfort Module (Random). “It’s a comfort module we need, right? This says it’ll be random.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. And each one will take up space. If you purchase all the upgrades required for the tutor, you’ll need to spend another twenty-five thousand to buy another slot.”

“That’s highway robbery,” I muttered, then remembered my quest reward for defeating Jasteel. Hovering over the Unclaimed Rewards tab on the HUD, I saw the options waiting for me, along with my new title.

Choose One: Any one Crossroads upgrade or a Base Seed

Unclaimed Title: Unstoppable Force

With that, I could get the two million credit exchange merchant expansion. Sighing, I shook my head. “One thing at a time. Maybe the next Event, I can spend more time focusing on credits.”

“You can also purchase the Exchange Merchant Access to sell excess loot,” Steward pointed out. “If you don’t want to manage that aspect, leave everything you don’t want to take with you back to your home world with me. I’ll see about trying to get you the best rates, so you can purchase upgrades when you get back.”

“That works. I hate inventory management.”

I made the purchases, accepting Yellow-crest (aka Jasmine) into my crossroads and taking the Base Seed reward.

Updated Exchange Credits Available: 19,300

Implementation Delay: Installation of requested updates will take place during the time between Events.

“What? A delay? How does that make sense?”

Steward’s fluffy little tail waggled. “It will take time to arrange resources for your upgrades. Not much, but enough. The System will ship everything here more-or-less immediately after you leave.”

“Fine. Whatever. When Yellow-crest gets here, I want you to work with her on finding spells for me. I need more diversity.”

His eyes unfocused as he accessed his HUD. “I see. Commanding Word and Cruel Puppetry. Yeah, I don’t see those as fitting your style very well. Useful though.”

As he read, I checked another notification, this one about the Base Seed.

Base Seed Implemented: This Seed may be deployed on any unclaimed territory and will function even in low-mana environments. Use your HUD to interact with it. Tutorial information has been provided.

Ignoring what I assumed were Parasite code’s name changes, I corrected him, “I need utility too. I picked the Base Seed reward. That means I’ll be making a party. I don’t want to be limited to punching things for much longer, if we can help it.”

“Hrm. Smart. Very smart. And I agree. As a warning, you’ll need a metric ton of credits to upgrade your Base. They make Crossroads look cheap, relatively speaking. Maybe next time, instead of going for heroics, we can have the System send you on a mining quest.”

I imagined an entire Minecraft themed Event. Honestly, it didn’t sound half-bad. “Those exist?”

“If you can imagine it, it probably exists, yes. The question is whether the System would let you take such a tame quest, now that you’ve earned some of its attention. Did you seriously kill a champion?”

“Uh. I had help. There was a potion.” With a thought, I brought the title details up.

Unclaimed Title: Unstoppable Force

Context: You have defeated a monster with the ‘Unbreakable’ enhancement. Impressive. By earning this title, you have gained yet another incredibly rare, highly prized title.

Details: While in combat with an opponent, each time you strike the same opponent with any method, you gain a 1% Penetration enhancement to all subsequent attacks. This applies to any source of damage (spells included) you apply against that opponent. It stacks up to 5X your level (Current Maximum: 60%). Limitation: Be aware that it is possible for beings to have damage reduction or resistance above 100%. That means even with this title, there may be those who can ignore your attacks no matter how many times you strike them.

I claimed it, then gave Steward a brief update on what had happened during the Event, skimming details about Gost or anything that might be sensitive.

He was appropriately awed, up until the end. “You’re suicidal, aren’t you? Champions aren’t to be fought lightly.”

“I wasn’t going to let it rampage across that world,” I said softly, not at all displeased with my choice. “Apocalypse BREAKER isn’t just my class. Not anymore. It’s who I am, Steward. If I’m able to stand between innocents and the System or anyone who wants to hurt them, I’m going to do it.”

His nostrils flared, and I read both skepticism and respect on his expressive, adorable face. “Guess I can’t talk you out of it, eh?”

“Not a chance.”

We moved on to talk about traits. I still had Grace and Mind to get.

“You timed rolling for them well,” he said. “That companion of yours really knows her stuff. Keep up that theme for the last two. Find a situation that really fits the attributes before you roll. Tie it into a big fight, if you can. As for what you’ve gotten thus far, I gotta say, I’ve never even heard of an adventurer with as much luck as you. Evolution is My Weapon combined with Override Engine? Just those two alone would make one heck of a story.”

I nodded along with his assertions, not daring to explain the source of my luck. “I’ll need more. Fighting those clovash, I got my first glimpse of what real adventurers are capable of. If I’m going to make any sort of difference, it’ll take more than luck, titles, and a few useful traits.”

His ears flickered in a move I took as worry. Both liquid arms sticking out of his sides gave me a thumbs up. “We’ll work together on that goal, okay? I’ll talk with your tutor. We’ll figure things out.”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

With nothing else to discuss and worry for Sharon overriding any thought of being patient, I asked him how to leave.

This time, he told me. Naturally, there was a button hidden on a sub-sub menu of my HUD.

Chapter 78: An Uneasy Return

Just as when I'd returned from my first mission, there was a moment of disorientation— an overwhelming blend of physical, sensory, and emotional confusion that hit like a wave cresting over raw nerves. The transition wasn't violent, not in a way that would show bruises, but it left me staggered, momentarily untethered from anything.

The vertigo-like pull was one thing; the contrast that followed nearly floored me. My heightened senses, having grown accustomed to the magical planet I'd left, drank in the new location like a sponge. My mind catalogued the differences with speed that had been honed with near-constant combat.

Nothing was right.

Overhead lights were sterile and white, not the comforting warmth of the magical variety. Although I hadn't been in a fight for a while, the sheer assault of unfamiliar sounds on my heightened Perception gave me flashbacks to the brutal fight with the wyvern. I heard the distinct hum of electricity in the walls, a constant annoyance beside the steady hiss of air from the vents. Distant monitors clicked and beeped, just loud enough to mix with muffled conversation. Even the thud of booted feet, distinct enough to contrast with the previous world's soldiers, was jarring.

But the worst thing didn't have to do with any sights or sounds: it was the lack of mana.

There was mana here— thin tendrils, a suggestion rather than a substance— but compared to the immersive saturation of the alien world I'd just left behind, it was like going from swimming in a clear spring to licking condensation off a windowpane.

The abrupt lack made my limbs feel heavier. My instincts, honed and elevated by system-backed enhancements, faltered for a heartbeat. I had to lean against the wall to steady myself, palm pressed flat against cold painted metal, breaths coming slow and deliberate. My boots slid over the floor, and my fingers trembled.

I realized, with shock, that Earth was no longer the same home I’d left behind.

Fortunately, the disorientation didn't last long. I recalibrated within a few minutes, as the same heightened abilities that made the transition so intense also helped me adjust.

When my head stopped swimming, I took a proper look at where I'd arrived. I was in the receiving room, a hexagonal-shaped plate beneath my feet. Unlike last time, the area was empty, with no sign of other Activated or medical personnel. In truth, the lack of stimulation probably helped to further stabilize my churning mind.

I took a deep breath, then made my way out. Passing through the door, I found the computer-lined walls of the triage room equally empty, the displays all locked on 'Password Required' screens.

No sooner had I begun my way down the hall than two figures entered through the doors at the far end. It was a man and a woman, both wearing Counterstrike-standard medical attire. Seeing me, they hurried over.

The woman in the lead was tall and composed, her dark ponytail tied with a regulation band. Her features were sharp and distinctly familiar.

It was Captain Nicholson, the medical officer who'd Activated me.

Coming to a stop a few feet away, she offered a smile tinged with relief. "Welcome back, Recruit. We were starting to get worried you wouldn't make it."

I looked around, confused. "What happened?"

"You were the last one to return. Most of the others have been back for days now. We were honestly getting a little concerned that we might not see you again."

A subtle tension at the corners of her eyes suggested the unspoken last part of that: if I'd been lost, their investment would have been wasted. I appreciated her not voicing that part aloud.

"Here." She waved at a nearby monitor. "Why don't we take a look at your updated vitals and HUD? You can tell us a bit about what happened to you while we wait for someone to come by for a proper debriefing."

Her tone was forcefully light, suggesting she was trying to set me at ease. I understood the intent. A glance at my reflection in a screen told me how I looked. Once again, I was soaked in blood, clothes in tatters. The pause at my Crossroads had forced me to take a breath and reason, but it hadn't been enough to completely negate the lingering violence that had consumed the last half-day of my life.

Faced with someone likely to be in a fragile state, her attempting to distract and manage me was honestly the smart play.

I didn't give a flying shit about smart plays. She'd told me I was the last one back. That could only mean one of two things. "Sharon." It came out as a rasped whisper. I tried again, this time with more force, more demand. "Where's Sharon?"

The man beside Nicholson—blond, maybe late thirties, and wearing corporal rank insignia—gave a casual shrug and said, "You mean Lt. McFay?"

His tone was off. Too detached. Too unconcerned for what I needed in that moment.

My stomach churned. The rational part of me tried to remind myself that I was safe, surrounded by allies. No monsters trying to open my veins, no alien adventurers eager to gut me, and no ancient beings playing a game that I didn't fully understand.

But that part of me wasn't the one in control.

My eyes narrowed as the muscles in my jaw tightened. I took one step forward, and the corporal stepped back instinctively.

The words pushed past my lips in a growl. "No, I'm talking about Marty McFly... of course I mean Lt. McFay. Where is she?" I felt the subtle tightening I’d learned to associate with my class activating.

Nicholson intervened. Placing a hand on the corporal’s shoulder, she said, “She got back half an hour ago. Corporal, stand down. I’ll handle this. Remember how Sharon was when she came through? He’s just worried about his friend. Same way she was for him."

The over-explanation seemed theatrical, like it was meant for me. Still, it did the job. Hearing the word friend was enough to stop the impending eruption.

"She's my responsibility," I said, voice thick with emotion I didn't bother to hide. "We had a plan. I need to know if it worked. I need to know if she's okay."

Nicholson's expression softened, and she gave a slow, understanding nod. There was empathy in her eyes, not the fake kind either— real understanding. "She's alive.”

I started to exhale a relieved breath.widen

Then she went on. "She arrived in a bad way, with a nasty curse, and was barely conscious." Her eyes bored into mine, as if willing me to accept her words as truth. "She wasn't worried about herself. We were in the middle of rushing her outside, beyond the camp's mana intensification perimeter, and she was demanding that we make sure you were okay. She said you'd fought a champion one on one, and that she hadn't been able to see the last seconds of the fight."

Already half-stuck in the memory, I replayed the final moments of the Event. Sharon had already been gone before I'd completely attuned the Unforged Rod. That meant she'd dealt with Yellow-Crest and gotten out as quickly as she'd felt she needed to.

Thinking about my relic, my fingers curled around empty air. Like Robin, I'd need to summon it again.

So much for my promise to bring it back intact for study.

"I want to see her," I said, looking over Nicholson's shoulder. "Where is she?"

She raised her hand, palm out. "She'll be fine. The curse is already starving in Earth's near-zero magic environment." Waving at the screen, she continued, "You can go see her, but we need to do your post-mission physical. Reading your HUD only gives us so much information."

I just looked at her, letting the memories and anguish of all I'd been through run through my mind. Override Engine stirred just enough to add a slight orange-red hue to my skin.

To her credit, the captain didn't move away. "We aren't going to stop you," she said gently. "But it'll probably be hours before she's conscious again. How about letting us complete the physical? Fifteen, thirty minutes, tops."

"Tell me where she is," I said softly, modulating my voice with effort. "I promise, as soon as I know Sharon's okay, we can do whatever you want."

"Fine," she said, her tone resigned but understanding. "You'll need a guide. I'll take you."

My lips creased into the first smile I'd had in hours. "No offense, doc, but you're too slow."

Her brows lifted in protest, but before she could get a word out, I swept her into a princess carry, cradling her easily in my arms. Her eyes widened— more surprised than offended— as I shifted my stance.

The corporal called after us, "Captain Nicholson?"

She replied, "It's fine," as I launched into a sprint, taking us down the corridor and out of the building.

I wasn't gentle. Hovering boots or not, each step struck the ground with telekinetic force. Several tiles cracked, fissures spreading as I picked up speed. The air whooshed past us as I navigated us into the open air.

Against my chest, Nicholson muttered, "It's one thing to know you've got stratospheric Strength and Grace scores, but it's entirely different to feel it."

She pointed. "That way. Past those big buildings. Then make a left."

Her guidance took us through the base proper and through a side gate leading to an open field next to the main encampment. The sight of scrub grass, hardy and clinging to the desolation of the desert seemed symbolic.

Jumping across cracked dirt, I picked up enough speed that Nicholson had to lift her voice over the breeze. "That way. The remote recovery tent is in a nook in that valley. You can just see it now."

I spotted the crack in the ground and made a beeline to it. Halfway to our destination, I felt the change. I'd only thought the arrival room was starved of mana. This was worse than drinking one of those sparkling fruit-flavored beverages. Everyone describes the taste as if "someone ate a bunch of fruit and farted on the liquid" or something like that.

This was even worse.

It was a memory of a fart, filtered through an industrial HVAC unit.

My skin rapidly dehydrated as the scorching heat of the sun suddenly mattered. No doubt, my Endurance score was high enough to minimize the effect, but it was still distracting. My HUD flashed.

Desolate Mana Zone: You have entered an area of almost no mana. Any of your traits, titles, or other abilities that require mana to function have been disabled. This HUD may not operate fully, depending on the resources it requires to process local information.

Part of my mind, an analytical side not fully suppressed with worry or discomfort, made note of the warning.

Entering the sloping valley, I saw a series of tents built beneath an overhang. They were marked with red medical symbols. One had a full squadron of armed, non-Activated, soldiers posted around it.

Half a dozen medical personnel moved like clockwork around portable equipment, their bodies partially silhouetted by the soft illumination spilling from within. As I approached, I heard a familiar voice. A moment later, Chantal stepped into view from the guarded tent.

I set Captain Nicholson down as Chantal and three of the guards walked over. The two officers exchanged a few quick words, with the Doctor explaining what had happened. The Lieutenant looked me over as she took Nicholson's explanation in.

To my surprise, the French woman didn't miss a beat. She waved the soldiers away. "She’s still fighting the curse. Once it breaks, she’ll be on her feet quickly."

"How long until that happens?" It probably came across as a demand.

Lips tightened with disapproval, she kept her tone even. "We don’t know. Even Parasite code is useless against old magic. Hours, at least. If we don't starve it completely, it could return. For all we know, if we let it do that, it might even spread."

“It won’t spread. It’s not like that.” I recited the details from memory.

“Maybe it won’t,” she acknowledged, looking to Nicholson, who nodded. “Fine. You can see her. Just don’t try to interact. Until the curse dies, she needs every bit of energy to keep her body together.”

With a grateful nod, I turned to the tent.

“I’m going to need to send my uniform to the cleaners again,” Nicholson muttered behind my back as I pushed the flap aside.

The interior was everything I could have hoped for: it looked to be a proper medical facility, complete with a gurney-style bed and tons of medical equipment. There were even a couple heavy-duty metal chairs next to where Sharon lay.

Grabbing one, I sat, ignoring the way the seat creaked beneath my weight.

Chantal and Nicholson entered behind me.

Ignoring their presence, I took my friend in. Sharon was pale, bits of her skin translucent. During the Event, at night and while we were dealing with one emergency after the next, I'd barely registered the human reality of what it meant to have sections of skin become glassy.

Seeing the muscles and tendons beneath one of her forearms, the reality of just how incredibly vulnerable she was struck me like a wyvern’s claw. Memory stirred me. I saw Yellow-crest standing behind her, the spear through Sharon's guts.

"I’m not leaving her until I know she’ll be okay," I said thickly.

Nicholson and Chantal exchanged a look—some silent conversation passing between them—but neither issued a command. Nicholson placed a hand briefly on my shoulder, reminded me of my promise to return for the medical scan, then turned and left the tent.

Chapter 79: Types of Damage

Frequent checks of my (glitching) HUD made the time crawl.

Sharon remained completely still. Based on too many hours spent in a hospital, I'd have expected flickers of eyelids or finger twitches. There were neither. Only the slow, mechanical rise and fall of her chest, accompanied by the constant chirp of monitors, told me she was still alive.

Gradually, I felt exhaustion set in. With it came echoes of the trauma I'd faced on another world. As my thoughts drifted, flitting back to what Sharon and I had been through together, phantom pains stirred to haunt me.

"No more ghosts, I promise," I told the unconscious woman, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch her hand. If only there was some way Override Engine could help others...

The idea and many variations on the same theme came and went as I worked to distract myself from violent flashbacks.

My ribs creaked, the anguish only more exquisite as I smashed my fist into my opponent. This was it: what I was meant to do. No time for questions, no time for doubt. I was free.

The fight ended, the details blurring together.

Suddenly, I was in the dark, carrying Sharon. Her body was too light in my arms. Her face was becoming translucent, the lich's spell gaining ground faster with each second that passed. Silver hair hid her eyes, then a stray breeze floated the strands away. In the glow of a foreign world's stars, I saw her terror.

How had I thought she didn’t weigh much? Carrying her was worse than trying to lift that hammer. Death was as light as a feather. Responsibility for someone else? That was heavier than any mountain.

I jerked, realizing that I'd begun to drift. Sliding a hand down my side, I ran my fingers across restored ribs. This wasn't right. People weren't made to suffer so many injuries, then come back so quickly.

Despite the phantom aches, I yearned for the violence again already.

The tent flaps opened and a woman in military-style scrubs, with her hair in a neat bun, entered. She wasn't Activated. Seeing me, she started. "Ah, SAO Williams, right? Sorry, I didn't realize you hadn't had a shower yet."

"Waiting for her to wake up," I said. It took serious effort not to mumble. "How is she?"

"The curse is slowing, and the System is compensating. We’re sure she’s past the worst of it.”

“Compensating?” I asked, desperate for details.

“Mhm. You Activated folk normally heal ten percent of your health every hour.” As she spoke, the woman moved across the tent, inspecting displays that meant nothing to me. "She’s starved of mana, but the System adjusted. Instead of replenishing her magic, it’s putting everything into her recovery. Assuming things progress as expected, it’ll keep her alive until the curse ends.”

The way she described it made me think of a balance beam. Killing the curse could also prevent the very recovery Sharon needed to survive. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“That’s not your job,” she replied.

“And once the curse dies?” I pressed.

“Consciousness should come soon after, depending on the damage."

"What do you mean?"

She pointed at Sharon's head. "Organ recovery is straightforward everywhere but the brain. There might be lingering effects, like memory loss or difficulty waking. And then there’s psychological trauma. Either can delay recovery. Most of the time, the System's healing can overcome anything, but there have been exceptions..."

The woman trailed off, her eyes on my face, skin abruptly two shades paler than before. "We did an EKG," she said quickly. "She'll be fine. Just give her time."

I relaxed, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I'd taken. "Good. That's good news. Thank you."

“You’re welcome. Anyway, as soon as she wakes, we’ll move her into the camp. With more mana saturation, her recovery will return to normal. She’ll probably be on her feet in hours.”

“Good.”

Her eyes flitted across my body. "She won't want to wake up and see you like this."

“My HUD says I’m fine. I’m not leaving until I know she'll be okay."

"Are you sure?”

"I'm not leaving," I reiterated, doing my best to moderate my tone.

The nurse appeared to be about to argue, then decided against it. After changing a bandage on Sharon’s stomach, she left.

Alone except for my friend, I stood, walking over to the hospital bed. On our mission, Sharon had been so calm and confident. Even as a non-combatant, she'd been the lynchpin of our Event. Now, she looked so small and vulnerable. So human. To see her like this— fragile, cracked open, breakable— hit me in ways I'd never wanted to feel again.

Time passed.

I went from watching her sleep to pacing, then finally sat again. After a few minutes, I began drifting again. My body's needs grew louder by the second, but I refused to let anything pull me from her side.

What good was a high Focus stat if not to ignore silly things like hunger or a need to piss?

Footsteps drew me from my quasi-meditation. They were distinct: precise and confident in a way as recognizable as a fingerprint.

It was Chantal.

She didn't announce herself. Just pushed the door open and slipped inside, clipboard tucked under one arm, her hair swept back into a practical tail. Dressed in the same uniform I’d noticed earlier, it looked rumpled, as if she’d been wearing it all day and just come straight from a briefing.

I turned to face her but didn't salute. What even was the proper protocol for these things?

Her eyes flicked to Sharon, then to me. She didn't say anything for a few moments, just walked to the foot of the gurney and checked the monitors herself.

"It's been most of the day. The nurse told me you wouldn't listen to reason."

I didn't reply.

"She's past the worst of it," the Lieutenant pressed on. "She got lucky. We got her out in time to starve it out."

"Healing potions," I said, not a question.

"Hrm?"

"Why didn't you use healing potions on her? They reversed the process during the Event. You must have resources here you could have used. Right?"

Chantal's eyes narrowed as if she was considering how to word the reply. "Our first objective was to kill the problem. That meant getting her out here. Healing magic is far less efficient in this space. We did use some, enough to keep her stable, but the costs..."

I got it.

No doubt every healing item was worth its weight in gold. If they couldn’t guarantee effectiveness, why waste resources on someone afflicted with an unfamiliar curse?

The cold, hard logic of basic math made it an easy decision.

An option I hadn't considered reached up and snatched the anger away before it could bubble up.

"I didn’t even think of trying to use credits to buy healing items in my Crossroads," I whispered, stunned at my lack of foresight. I had the money. If I'd taken the time and worked with Steward, maybe I could have made a difference.

Maybe she'd have been awake, talking with me now.

"No one is perfect, and not everything is straightforward," Chantal said, compassion in her voice as she shook her head. "Even with a five hundred Mind and a perfect memory, you'll still be human. We miss things in high-stress, complex environments. That's why you've been assigned a team."

I swallowed, grateful for the logic to bring me back. "I was only thinking of getting back here. My guide wanted me to take more time, but I wouldn't listen."

"You? Stubborn? Who would have guessed?" She looked down at her clipboard, then back at me. "If it helps, Crossroads deliveries can be delayed if the System is feeling vindictive. And the resources you'd have spent may not have made the difference. Take it from me. You can't second-guess the past. You can only think about how to do better in the future."

“Speaking of your future. You might want a shower.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Soon,” I promised. “I owe Nicholson that physical, too.”

“Shower first,” she said firmly. Glancing up and to the left, where I assumed her HUD hovered, she went on. "I got the initial HUD data from your mission. It's not a complete picture, but... Those numbers. The changes to your inventory. You came back with multiple relics. That's beyond rare. Do you have any idea how significant your achievements are?"

"Do they matter?" I waved at Sharon. "We got the job done."

A hint of exasperation colored the Lieutenant's voice. "How about taking a minute to tell me what actually happened out there? It could be useful."

I lifted my empty hands. "I did what I'm good at. I hit things until they stopped moving." Tipping my chin at the bed, I went on. "Sharon? She risked her life to join me on the mission. Without her powers and advice, neither of us would be here. If there's anyone you should be impressed with, it's her. Not me."

"I'm not going to argue about Sharon's abilities. We both know she's worth her weight in diamonds. But for your own mental health, you need to embrace success as much as what you think was failure. Before she passed out, she said you took on a System Champion. Solo. The numbers don't lie. You've got more potential than anyone we've ever seen."

"I need more than potential."

"You do," she agreed. "We need to hone that with focused training."

"Yeah." It wasn't worth arguing the facts I'd learned all too many times already.

"Marvick and your team will be ready after you've taken a few days to decompress and rest."

"What?" I blinked a few times, certain I'd misheard her. "There's an Event Burst going on. I can't afford downtime. Besides, I'm..."

She cut in. "Dean, if you fucking tell me you're fine or your hit points are full one more time, I'll break your nose."

I had to hand it to her: the delivery was pitch perfect. It honestly sounded as if she'd really try.

"Override Engine is probably all that's keeping you going," she said when I didn't reply. "Even that won't sustain you much longer. Not here. You need food and rest. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Sharon. She wouldn't want you turning into one of the System's broken weapons."

That stung.

"Just a bit longer," I said, not wanting to admit she was right.

"Just a bit," she agreed after an assessing pause. "I'll tell Marvick. In a few days, when you're back online, don't be surprised if he pushes you through the most intense training montage you've ever conceived of."

That earned a dry chuckle. "You do know when everything is an eleven, it stops being as interesting, right?"

She gave me a knife's blade smile. "We'll just have to make sure to add some twelves in there, won't we?"

Then she was gone.

An hour later, Sharon's fingers twitched for the first time. Sweat beading on her forehead, she shifted, eyes fluttering, then blinking open slowly. Looking around the tent, she squinted despite the muted camp lights hanging in the tent's corners.

Finally, her eyes found mine.

Seeing her face, the recognition in it, felt like the first breath I'd taken in a long time. Relief washed through me in such a palpable wave that I nearly fell over.

"Dean?" Her voice was hoarse, dry.

"I'm here." Moving closer, I put a hand on her arm.

She smiled weakly, sniffing. "You smell like wet wudgie ass."

"Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that. I wanted to help."

"Help with what?" She twitched a finger. "I'm in medical. What were you going to do?"

"Well..."

Her lips found the memory of a smile. "You were going to try biting the curse to death, weren't you?"

I didn't tell her that the idea had occurred to me at least once. "Uh. Probably not." Absently, I poured her a cup of water and handed it to her, even holding it to make sure she could drink it.

What else was I supposed to say? That I couldn't leave her side? That the last time I'd been in this situation, I'd made myself the promise to never let someone I cared for down again?

Sharon's expression softened. Twisting her hand, she ran her fingers across my palm. "Thank you for being here. I was worried about you."

I swallowed. Hard. Fighting tears.

She had been worried about me.

Her eyes studied mine, and something passed between us. A quiet understanding. No banter. No analyst’s dry wit. Just two people who'd crossed a line neither of them had seen coming.

She didn't smile. But she didn't look away either.

A few seconds later, medics came to move her into the camp, where the System could do its magic on her Activated body.

Chapter 80: Focus and Forgiveness

With Sharon conscious and being taken care of, I was truly aimless. What was I supposed to do now?

Sleep, probably.

The idea was ludicrous. How could I rest with everything churning inside my head?

A wave of magic slid across my senses as I walked through the boundary into camp. With the return of my HUD and dormant abilities, some of the brain fog lifted. I sniffed, my own odor making me nauseous.

How had I not noticed?

Moving on reflexive memory, I made my way to my assigned apartment. Once inside, I stumbled into the shower. Hot water sluiced off the tattered, gore-covered remnants of my clothes. I paused to clean my belt and boots, but found they didn't need it. Making a mental note to acquire a full suit of relic-quality clothes, I turned off the water and moved, still soaking wet, and fully clothed, to bed.

Sleep didn't come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same vision: battle. Perversely, my heart rate slowed during these memories. I was calmer, too.

"That's not right," I said into the darkness, pushing my mind elsewhere. Remembering I'd left my relics equipped, I tugged them off. The loss of their cooling presence brought a headache intense enough to blur my thoughts.

I dozed and woke to the sound of a gentle knock at my door.

"One second." Rolling out of bed, I fumbled around before finding a change of fatigues. Dressed, I went to the door.

It was Sharon.

True to what I'd been told, she looked better. Not whole, not perfect, but improved. She was still pale, but color had returned to her cheeks and eyes. Her adventurer garb was gone, replaced with Counterstrike SAO attire. "Figured I'd stop by. You don't mind, do you?"

By reflex, I checked my HUD. "It's three in the morning."

"And? You've had at least an hour of sleep. I've had five hours of high-quality recovery. Do the math."

The sound of her clinical commentary, delivered so dryly, made me smile. I recognized it for what it was—a way to show me she was on the mend.

"You want to come in?" I made room in the doorway.

"Just for a bit." She stepped inside, flicking a light on with a peremptory, "Not everyone has a hundred Perception, jackass."

"Oh. Sorry."

Walking over to the dining table, she stood over the pile of gaming books. I hadn't moved them before the Event. They lay where they'd been the last time she and I, along with the rest of my team, had spent time together.

It was a lifetime ago.

Pulling a chair out, she took a seat, one thumb lightly caressing the spine of the rulebook she'd been interested in. "How are you?"

"Fine."

She eyed me. "Lie to me again and see what happens."

I threw my hands up. "You on one side, Chantal on the other. Why do I feel like I'm being double teamed?"

"Don't change the subject."

Licking my lips, I let the reluctant words come. "I still feel like I failed you."

"Bullshit. You kept me alive."

"Barely." I glanced in the direction of the emergency medical tents and told her about my Crossroads idea. "If I'd been...different, things would have gone better. You'd be fine."

She scoffed dismissively. "And if you'd gotten healing spells instead of the nightmare necromancy bullshit, ditto. But you're forgetting one thing."

"What's that?"

Leaning forward, she fixed me with a stare. "I could have gotten those spells, too. I have a Crossroads and have been Active far longer than you have. If our best healers hadn't been so taxed on their Events, they could have helped as soon as I arrived. The mana here is thin, but not that thin."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Clearly." She pointed at the chair across from her.

When I sat, she went on. "Chantal said you'd spouted something like this, so let me get you out of your head before you go on a downward spiral. There are thousands of variables at play here. Maybe millions. I just found out the System put everyone through the wringer during this Event. That included all of our non-combatant healers. No one came back less than exhausted. It cost enough resources to partially deplete the base to keep some people alive."

I blinked several times. "I...didn't think to ask about how everyone else was."

"Tunnel vision happens to us all. It's what has you now. That's why I'm here." She slid her fingers across the surface of the manual, the glossy texture seeming to give her comfort. "In the end, what matters is we're both alive. What's that saying? Being mostly dead is not the same as being dead. And now here I am."

She spread her hands, indicating how well she'd recovered already.

"There's more to surviving an Event than hit points," I pointed out.

A playful light stirred in her tired eyes. "Is that wisdom sprouting from a barren field?"

I tried to glare at her and failed. "You did that on purpose."

"Mhm. You're more than hit points, Dean. And you're not a failure. I know you now. I can see the guilt on your face as plain as that freakish daemonic fire in the back of your eyes. You're not built for guilt. If you let it consume you, all that anger you carry will turn inward. That's not useful for anyone."

"But I..."

She spoke over me. "You've got three days. After that, I want you to show me how strong you really are."

"Huh?" I blinked, confused at the change of topic and tone.

"You say you failed me. Where do you think you could have done better? Realistically? And don't rush the answer. I want you to really play it back in your head. Assume you couldn't trick the System or use your daemon as some sort of cheat code."

Falling into memory was all too easy. In a flash, I was back inside the catacombs, the lich with its two wands aimed at me. My abilities were down, pushed aside so the strange device could write a spell in my mind. The memory was so vivid I could feel the cold stone beneath my feet, smell the ancient dust, hear the wet sound of Robin's claws scraping against the floor. I was vulnerable, with no way to dodge or escape what was coming for me.

A tremor ran through my hand. I clenched it into a fist, knuckles whitening as I fought the phantom feeling of helplessness. My vision blurred—not from tears, but from exhaustion so deep it seemed embedded in my marrow.

"I'd have had to deal with the lich before it got to us," I said after a beat.

"Bingo." She tapped the rulebook. "How could you have done that without knowing it was there?"

"Um." Now that was a hard question. "Maybe Mana Sensitivity could have told me it was nearby. Or maybe I could have spotted it lurking in the tunnels." Even that didn't sound very likely. There'd been an army of creatures waiting for us; sighting a single threat out of the rest would have required a level of Perception and discernment that felt improbable, despite how far I’d come.

"Maybe so," Sharon agreed, as if she'd expected that reply. "Now, use that big brain of yours and tell me what I'm going to say next."

"You're going to tell me about some special trait I could get to foresee things?"

Standing slowly, deliberately, she leaned across the table and pinched my arm. "The only solution to mistakes is to learn from them."

"Oh. I get it. This is about the training montage."

"Right. If you need something to focus on, that is what I want you to do. If you start to feel guilt over anything that happened with me, I want you to use that as fuel. Mr. Apocalypse BREAKER, I want you to break records, not bodies, for a while."

Worded that way, presented from Sharon, the carefully phrased demand had so much more weight. It wasn't that I didn't respect Chantal. She was capable enough. But I didn't care about her. She was an officer, a professional, an ally.

Sharon was different. She was mine to protect.

From Sharon, it changed things.

Knots loosened in my chest as I nodded. "You got it."

She stood, her movements still stiff. Eyes on the rule book, she asked, "Out of curiosity, what do you think your brother would have said about the outcome of our Event?"

The question, so unexpected, caught me off guard. I replied without thinking, "He'd have said it was a legendary success."

"Oh? Legendary, eh? Why's that?"

"We gave an entire world its Protected status back." I held up my hand, ticking points off on my fingers as they occurred to me. "None of the invaders made it through the Churn. Telkazorin's body was destroyed, meaning that asshole can't meddle directly, and without the System champion there to muck about, the locals should be safe."

"Not to mention the fact that the reason the world lost its status is gone now," she added, earning another finger on my list.

"Yeah. That. About Yellow-crest, or Jasmine..."

She shook her head emphatically. "We can talk about that later, once you've had time. We'll want to go through your Base Seed, too. And install more levels. All of that will happen. Just...not now. Now, I want you to focus on all the good you did. Dean, you lived up to your potential. You single-handedly broke an apocalypse. And you also just happened to carry a dying friend to safety while it happened. Hold onto those accomplishments."

Moving around the table, she gestured for me to stand. When I did, she pulled me into a tight embrace.

I held her for a second, then watched her walk to the door. Opening it, she used a booted foot to slide something inside. "Eat, Recruit. That's an order."

It was a tray of food, heaped high with slabs of meat and vegetables. Next to it was an entire case of protein drinks.

Click.

The door shut behind her as my stomach growled in protest, reminding me that I hadn't had a meal in far too long.

I ate and drank until I was full, then lay down. This time, sleep came quickly and deeply.

Chapter 81: The Same Mask

Knock. Knock .

I woke again to the sound of knocking. "One second." Blinking a few times to shed the remnants of a half-remembered dream, I sat up.

Knock. Knock. It came again, insistent this time.

"I'm coming," I called, grumbling as I rolled to my feet, pulled my pants on, then went to the door.

Texas stood there, his lanky frame leaning to one side like the doorframe was the only thing keeping him vertical. His sandy hair was disheveled, and his perpetual five o'clock shadow gave him a haphazard appearance. Wiz was next to him, hands shoved in the pockets of a hoodie that looked like it predated the System by at least a decade. The shorter man's combination of dark-rimmed glasses and dark hair made him look a bit like the grown version of a kid who should have had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Both men were dressed down, with only their military-issued boots to signify they were part of Counterstrike, let alone the elite 'Scorched Mobility Battalion."

"Hey," Texas said, drawl so thick it was clearly an affectation.

Wiz lifted a hand. "Yo."

I blinked a few times. "Uh. What?"

"Came by to see how you were doing," Wiz offered.

Texas picked it up with practiced familiarity. "You missed breakfast and lunch. We figured maybe you'd want some company for dinner."

Dinner? I checked my HUD. It was after four in the evening. How had I slept so long? Glancing from one man to the other, I found myself floundering. "What?"

"It's a thing we do," Texas replied casually. "Especially after solo Events. We check on each other. Make sure we have a meal or two." His eyes darted past me, like he was cataloguing the state of my room without meaning to.

The silence grew. My stomach made sounds, but I ignored them, folding my arms across my bare chest instead. "If Chantal put you up to this..."

Wiz winced, shaking his head emphatically. "The Lieutenant sketched a bit of a briefing and told us she'd tried to convince you to take a little downtime. That's it. There were no orders. We're SMB. People don't tell us what to do."

"Oh." I'd forgotten how special the unit was, even compared to the rest of Counterstrike.

Texas shifted, thumb hitched. "Captain Marvick is making ribs. He does this Congolese-American hybrid thing that blows pretty much anything I've had out of the water."

I felt the smile twitch into place. "And I wouldn't want to second guess barbecue preferences from a man who goes by Texas, would I?"

"Sure not," he replied, the drawl back and twice as thick. The words came out as 'shore nawght.'

"Fine. Let me get my shirt on."

Wiz snorted, "Probably for the best. We wouldn't want any of the local ladies to get ideas. Fraternization and all that."

"When was the last time anyone got in trouble for such a thing?" Texas interjected as I made my way into my room to find a spare shirt.

"In SMB?"

"Mhm."

"Well, never."

"Maybe," Texas rejoined, tone all sly, "we let Trip go shirtless on purpose then. Might be fun to see what happens."

Pulling my belt and boots on, I used my HUD to match the style of my fatigues. Then I padded out to join the talkative duo. Closing the door behind me, I said, "It should go without saying, but if you try anything like that, I'll do horrible things to both of you in the sparring room."

Wiz's eyes widened in a cartoonish exaggeration. "Okay, I'm convinced. No shirtless Dean temptation snacks for the ladies. Heaven forbid we throw him to the piranhas."

Texas chortled, looping an arm around my shoulder. "I just got one question?"

"What's that?" I asked, letting him draw me from the apartment.

"You're not one of those nerds who likes Magic: The Gathering, are you?"

"Huh?"

He cocked a thumb in Wiz's direction. "We're planning to play some proper cards and this one, he keeps complaining that we won't learn to play his silly wizard game."

"It's got lore and is a lot of fun," the spellcasting specialist retorted.

"Sure. Maybe. But doesn't it take a billion cards to do anything useful? Where do you keep those things, anyway?"

I looked over to see Wiz grinning. The man was already young looking, but with that expression, he might have passed as a mischievous teenager. "It only costs fifty mana to open my storage pouch. And it can hold a lot of cards."

The two went back and forth, arguing over regulations around contraband and the merits of cards, as we walked. They kept me between them, a subtle tactic that I noted but didn't mention. Just because I recognized the banter as having a functional purpose didn't mean it wasn't a good idea.

We arrived at a building I'd never visited. It was taller than the other apartments, being two stories, and had a vaguely New Mexican-style adobe feel. A thigh-high fence enclosed a tiny backyard, which did nothing to hide an outdoor dining setup. Captain Marvick, wearing an apron that said, 'Meat Pugilist' across his absurd chest, stood at a steaming grill. Sweat beaded on his ebony skin as he wielded a pair of tongs with military precision. He waved us through the fence with an amiable nod.

Cruz, standing beside the man, tipped a beer at me as we entered the grounds. His dark hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, and the sleeves of his t-shirt were rolled up, revealing intricate tattoos that spiraled up both forearms.

Behind them, lounging at a wood picnic table, was Tunde. The scarred man was using a knife to pick at his nails. He lifted the blade by way of acknowledgment, then went back to his work without a word.

The next few minutes were surreal. Texas pushed a beer into my hand, the bottle cold and slick with condensation, and not long after Cruz shoved a plate of steaming ribs into the other. The meat glistened with a dark, sticky glaze, and the aroma hit me like a punch—sweet, smoky, with an undercurrent of heat that made my mouth water instantly.

No one talked about their Events, or combat, or anything of substance.

Wiz kept a constant drone of nerdy facts, either about playing cards or about new Warhammer 40k lore. Texas acted as his foil, taking playful pot shots even as he said just enough to hint that he knew more than he was letting on about both.

Cruz and Marvick hung out together near the grill. They spoke rapidly, in Spanish, although I didn’t get the feeling that either was being deliberately aloof.

The knife-wielding Tunde chimed in from time to time, his African accent adding just another note of diversity to the already eclectic team. His additions were mostly dryly sardonic observations, both in Spanish and English, as he wove between the groups with casual ease.

It was far too mundane.

Taking a seat, I tried to come to grips with what I'd been doing twenty-four hours ago, and this moment. I'd trained with these men before leaving, and we'd bonded over drinks and gaming discussions. But that couldn't have prepared me for feeling so...uncomfortably welcome.

Wiz leaned forward, gesturing with a half-eaten rib, sauce clinging to his fingers. "You wanna know something important?"

"Sure?" I said a little warily. It hadn't taken long for me to recognize a cutting, keen intellect in the other man.

"Building muscles takes place in the downtime. When we rest. The same thing happens here." He waved at everyone. "Events don't make any of us stronger. They tear us down. It's what comes after that builds us up."

The striking wisdom, so out of nowhere compared to the rest of the guy's rants about the heroics of various units in a fictional universe, had me shaking my head. "Easier said than done."

As soon as Sharon had woken up, I'd felt better. How much time would it take for me to deal with everything I'd seen and done? How much time did I have before the headaches and anger returned, and all I wanted was to find something to kill again?

I didn't know, and not knowing made me hesitant to relax fully with these men.

Cruz and Marvick wandered over, taking seats at the table with the rest of us. The captain's apron was now splattered with sauce, badges of honor from his culinary battle. With a flourish, Tunde produced a deck of standard playing cards, putting them on the table.

"Poker?" Texas suggested.

"Hell no," Wiz replied instantly. "Last time we played that with you, you nearly convinced half of us you didn't know the rules. If you think I'm going to let you steal any more of my rations by playing dumb, you can think again."

Tunde made a clicking sound. "We are Counterstrike. We have unlimited rations."

"It's the principle of the thing," Wiz retorted, glaring. "And don't you defend him. The man is a tyrant."

Cruz waved for their attention. "Euchre. Even odds. Less bullshit."

"I haven't played that in years," I said. "Sounds fun." Then, before I thought about it, I added, "And a lot less of a headache than sorting through Wiz's magic decks."

Without missing a beat, the man side-eyed me. "First you won't walk through the camp shirtless for the ladies. Now you're fixated on my decks. We all know where this is going, don't we?"

"Hey!" I protested.

Everyone, Tunde included, laughed.

Realizing it was good-natured, I hesitated a beat, then joined in.

Grabbing the deck, Texas dealt the cards with rhythmic flicks. "Okay, boys. Let's see if Trip's instincts make him as much of an Easy-A as Tunde says he is."

Click. Tunde made a loud, disapproving sound. "My words are not yours to steal, Texas man."

That silenced Texas, who appeared to take the rebuke seriously, even as it sent Wiz into a fit of snickering chortles.

One game turned into two, turned into three. Before I knew it, the day was coming to a close, and I was both full and pleasantly relaxed. It helped that everyone in the group, Marvick included, fell into place effortlessly.

Not a single one of them even hinted at wanting to know what I'd been through. Knowing that the Event had been bad for everyone, I withheld my curiosity about their adventures for the same reason I didn't want to talk about mine.

As the night came to a close, I found myself looking at Cruz's face, searching for a forgotten memory.

"Oh!" Standing so fast I earned a glare from Tunde, I checked my HUD for the command to push mana into my storage pouch. Like everything else, it was buried beneath a host of sub-menus. Pushing fifty mana to activate the thing was far more draining than it should have been, but I shrugged it off as I shoved my hand into the belt-clipped magical pouch.

The Greatsword of the Lich Tyrant flowed into my hand, appearing with all the drama and magical flare I could have asked for. Necromantic-green light flowed down the blade, crackling briefly as the relic fully appeared, the bone hilt feeling unfamiliar despite use during the Event.

"I hope you enjoy presents." I slid it onto the table so Cruz could inspect it.

He eyed me, then the blade, clearly recognizing the significance of the light show. "Are you serious?"

"Go ahead. Identify it."

Reaching out, he touched the cross guard long enough for his HUD to trigger. "Ah Dios Mio," he whispered in an awed tone. "This is... It's..."

"Share with the class," Marvick commanded impatiently, revealing that at least one of the team had the same HUD upgrade Sharon possessed.

A beat later, Texas was whistling, and Wiz was shaking his head.

"You're going to be insufferable now," the spellcaster said to Cruz.

At the same time, Texas leaned over to me. "Hey. I like toys, too. Tell you what, if you have another one of those for me, I'll forget that whole 'parading around with your shirt off' idea you had."

"My idea?" I protested. Then, seeing the laughter in his eyes, shook my head. "I got a few things, but nothing that specific for anyone else."

He didn't push. No one did.

They talked about the weapon, admiring it like anyone else in the military would: they discussed its weight, its damage potential, and how it could impact team dynamics. The sickly green glow cast eerie shadows across their faces as they passed it around, testing its balance with expert hands. It was all clinical, abstract and although the reminder of the last Event took some of the humor out of the night, it didn't drain it all.

Finally, Marvick signaled it was time for us to get off his "lawn”. As I moved to leave, Cruz waved and walked up to me, the sword I’d given him still glowing on the table.

"Thank you," he said, dark eyes on mine. In that moment, I saw more of the man than I had the entire evening. There was something hungry there, a fierce desire to protect. And a lot of scar tissue.

They are the same as me, I realized with striking clarity. Each of them, every member of SMB, was the same.

"Looking forward to seeing you put it to use on our first mission together," I said, offering him a hand.

He took it.

Interlude: Intrigued

Expansion Monitor Zatuula.

Face practically flat against the display, Zatuula didn’t notice the summons at first. Over the past period, Sestusean mating rituals had become more than a potential tool to use in the System’s conquest. They were fascinating.

The females seemed to be drawn to a particular type of male. On their world, they were called “mob bosses.” Each mob boss had basically the same look and personality: they were all “chiseled hunks” who walked around with half their clothes missing, and who exuded extremely authoritative personalities.

What made matters so fascinating was the result of thousands of years of social pressure on the males of that society to fit that mold. Every male wanted to be in charge; an alpha “Dominant” to “out alpha” the others.

The results were the very courtship rituals that had drawn her interest.

Despite her better judgment, she’d become quite fixated on a so-called “ruling” family. She was particularly interested in just how many types of “forbidden love” emerged among the females.

She couldn’t fathom why so many of the women judged worthy mates based on how easily they could tear through specific garments.

It was just so indulgent to watch.

Who knew what would happen next?

Would Jocelyn and Joey get together? If so, would their first offspring also have a J name—one that would fulfill the prophecy of the “forbidden triple J love affair”?

Expansion Monitor Zatuula.

The text bobbed over, blocking her view of a rather…violent display between two “Ultra Chads” trying to “out gun” one another by flexing various bits of their anatomy.

She blinked, reluctantly turning to attend the System’s call.

“Yes?”

Senior Expansion Monitor Abethar went into debt to summon a champion to Protected world 711721.

“Oh, no. That’s not good. Did it pay off?”

It did not. He has fallen, losing his status as Senior Monitor and returning to Maintenance Monitor rank, where he will remain for at least 300 cycles. Furthermore, fringe world 711721 has been returned to Protected status.

Based on data collected from the Event, we estimate the odds of a pulsar have increased by 5%.

Future Events will likely bear fruit.

“Okay. Well, I’m keeping an eye out. We do have an ongoing Event Burst. It shouldn’t take much more than a few months to play out. A System-standard year, at the most.”

Good. Given the new opening, should you both identify and help nurture a pulsar, you would be promoted. Does that incentivize you properly?

She thought about it, organizing her thoughts around the rush of competitive delight that sent microbursts of fun chemicals throughout her System-adapted body. “Very much so, yes.”

The System window closed, leaving behind the latest status updates for Earth. Zatuula knew what she was supposed to do. If she looked the data over quickly, she might even find anomalies. Those were rare, but when they popped up, it usually meant good things for the System Monitors lucky enough to identify them.

But…

Her eyes flitted over. Joey was dancing. If she piped in, she could even listen to their strange, rhythmic music.

It wouldn’t hurt to watch for just another minute or two, would it?

Nah.

Epilogue: Foreshadowing

The next couple of days drifted by in a slow blur. Following advice from Sharon, Chantal, and SMB, I tried to focus on recovery. That meant sleeping in, taking big meals in the mess hall, and seizing every opportunity to meditate.

It felt wrong. Like I wasn’t doing enough.

According to Sharon, most other Activated were already back in training, running Earth-based missions or just preparing for the next Event.

Waking to the sounds of people drilling made me itch to join them and prove myself. There was so much to learn, so many capabilities I knew I possessed—just from a sheer stats perspective—that I yearned to develop.

Instead, I made the time to follow up on things I’d left neglected, such as my post-mission medical physical.

When the team of doctors finished, and I'd dressed, Captain Nicholson led me into a private room lined with the nearly ubiquitous black material that covered much of the base.

She held a tablet computer in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other as she glanced between the screen and a projection along the wall. "We need to talk."

I eyed her curiously. "Sure."

"Your starter trait, Evolution is My Weapon. You used it to boost your Strength considerably."

"Yeah." I brightened. "Actually, I had some ideas about that. Can we deliberately trigger it? Maybe inject me with Ebola or something?"

She pursed her lips. "That isn't an entirely novel idea. Only a few other Activated have your trait, and none have your stats, so we've been hesitant to attempt it. Perhaps with you we can. But this isn't about that. It's about the dangers of letting your Strength attribute far outpace the others before you have a chance to adjust."

"Okay." I considered it, running through the standard 'what if' scenarios Brian and I had spent hours discussing. "Are you suggesting my muscles could grow so strong my bones aren't tough enough to withstand them?"

"Eh. Not so much. The System doesn't mind lopsided adventurers. This is more about how human brains function. You operate as a whole, united being. As your physical stats increase, you're constantly learning and adapting to use them properly. If one spikes too high above the rest, your learning curve might become too steep to adapt in time."

"And I could make mistakes?"

"Mhm." She gestured with her tablet. "Everyone adjusts at a different pace, but even with a high Mind score, you'll need time. It's best if you remember that, especially if you start absorbing evolutionary benefits. If you continue at this pace, after the next few Events, you might find it difficult to interact with normal humans without harming them. That's why I'm going to suggest you consider a throttling upgrade for your HUD."

She guided me through the mental gymnastics required to find the menu with the HUD purchase option.

HUD Upgrade: Auto-throttle (Physical)

Description: This upgrade allows your HUD to automatically scale you to a % of your true physical attributes. It can be set to dynamically react to certain parameters, such as: "10% greater than the local average" or "20% greater than the local maximum" and so on.

Price: 2,500 credits

"Can I safely purchase it here?" I asked, hesitating to confirm the transaction.

"Perfectly safe. HUD upgrades are one area Parasite code doesn't touch."

I completed the purchase, then navigated the upgrade (which naturally contained about a hundred new menus to filter through), to set a cap on my Strength at 135. A wave of slight tightness swept across my skin, then vanished without ill effects.

Despite being maddening to navigate, the upgrade also included several "auto-off" options. I selected multiple settings, including: Disable during class activation; Disable during Events; Disable when hit points are low.

With the doctor's concerns addressed, she promised to inform Sharon I was ready to have three more levels installed at the Analyst's convenience. Both Sharon and Chantal remained assigned to SMB, and they'd work with me on the Base Seed in the coming days, which likely meant my life would only grow more complicated.

"I said I wanted a simple character sheet," I muttered to no one as I headed toward the mess hall.

I spent a surprising amount of time with the SMB. They operated on "relaxed" schedules while focusing on revising post-Event plans and helping with Activated logistics. From Wiz, I learned that each team member was more than just a high-level specialist; each held status as a ranking officer, with clearance to provide feedback on important operations.

For all the jokes and casualness at the table, these men weren't regular soldiers. Not by any stretch. Wiz personally helped oversee and maintain a bank of spells and spellcaster deployment data that distributed magical knowledge among Activated with sufficient levels and attributes.

If I hadn't survived hollowing out a wyvern’s head, I might have been awestruck.

On the night before my official clearance to return to active duty, sleep eluded me. The headaches had returned, and a migraine lurked in the recesses, a predator waiting for me to look away. By now, I was certain Mana Sensitivity caused them. Gost had more-or-less told me I'd been born with the trait.

Knowing that nearly made me wish I hadn't chosen Override Engine. If I'd gone a different direction, perhaps the headaches would be a thing of the past.

I forced my eyes closed.

The wyvern loomed before me, its System-mutated body a testament to the corruptive power. Wyverns were cousins to dragons. Lesser, it was true, but close enough to be classified as "nearly" Elder beings.

My heart burned with hate, with righteous fire.

I should be able to burn this taint away. To free this noble beast from its enslavement.

But how?

Lacking any other solution, I did what seemed right: I attacked, tearing into it with my bare hands, until I'd peeled the infected flesh away, leaving only the pure bits of its brain and heart.

Those, I ate.

My HUD appeared, wavering and huge with green Parasite text. Evolution is my Weapon has activated...

I woke with a gasp, the too-vivid dream clinging to my thoughts. The wyvern's taste lingered fresh in my mouth. In my battle frenzy, I hadn't acknowledged how much of its gore I’d swallowed. Knowing it had been enough to trigger a special upgrade suggested the amount was substantial.

With adrenaline surging, I knew sleep would evade me. Dressing, I left my apartment. Under bright moonlight, I made my way to the edge of camp. A pair of regular soldiers spotted me approaching and flagged me over.

"You're the new SMB recruit," a guy with a tragic bowl-cut hairdo said as I approached.

"I am."

"Where ya going?"

I gestured toward the distance. "For a run. Is that a problem?"

"Not for you," the second guard said in a nasal voice, sounding disgruntled.

The first waved. “Go ahead. Just try and be back in a few hours, okay? It’ll be on us if anything happens.”

“Sure.” I resumed walking, ignoring the overtly hostile glare of the upset one.

Beneath the clear, star-studded night sky, I ran. Dampening my Strength score slightly had no practical effect on my running speed, not that I'd had time to realize its full potential yet. Embracing my heightened abilities fully, I poured on speed, racing across barren ground and around desolate desert scrub.

The landscape expanded, and my eyes adjusted, revealing a kaleidoscope of painted colors, dotted with hints of resolute life. Cacti and tiny flowering plants dotted the cracked ground, creating patterns that were closer to poetry than randomness.

Thanks to all I’d gained since being Activated, I saw my world in a way I never had before.

It was beautiful.

The miles fell away along with my turbulent thoughts. One, then five, then ten. I was confident that I could run forever, putting Usain Bolt to shame.

An hour out, I sensed it.

It didn't come with noise or sudden movement. Just...a shift. Air pressure dropping before a storm. I sensed something watching me—not with malice, but with focused intent. My skin prickled as I dropped from a sprint into a walk, scanning my surroundings.

There was nothing.

Slipping partially into a meditative, assessing state, I discovered this new presence was similar to the daemon inside my relic. There was a sense of connection, and greatness both beyond and beneath the world's surface.

I halted, using the sensation to guide my gaze.

When I found it, I understood why I hadn't seen it earlier: it was just one shadow among many; a cloud in a sea of darkness.

Looking up, I watched it descend from the sky.

Backlit by the moon, it floated to meet my gaze. I didn't need light to recognize this creature: it was already part of me. It was also much larger than the first time I’d seen it.

Vast wings spread, beating the air like the rolling tremble of thunder as System-corrupted scales came into view. The dragon, the same one who had helped me kill the adventurer at the start of all this, regarded me with its blind eyes.

In the flesh, I saw the differences between the wyvern and this being all too clearly: the former had been the equivalent of a bobcat, smaller and sleeker. The dragon was a lion, its muscular physique defined by terms like "glacial" and "tectonic."

The dream returned in a burning haze, bringing frustration with it.

"I will find a way," I shouted, my voice echoing oddly across the barren landscape. "I will free you."

A wave of gravitational pressure enveloped me, enclosing me in a velvet fist. The dragon's power thrummed through its magical touch, pouring a mixture of toxic heat and painful ice into my body.

Then, without warning, it turned. Wings angled, it flapped once, then vanished in a blur of impossible speed.

In its wake, thunder rolled through the sky and a crackling, deep voice growled:

Arise, BREAKER.

Arise!

The End – Apocalypse BREAKER: Book 1

Final (Comprehensive) Character Sheet

Name: Dean Williams

Class: Apocalypse BREAKER

Level: 10

Installed Experience Points: 52,316

Total Acquired Experience Points: 286,468

Hit Points: 295

Mana: 600

Titles: Far Too Lucky (Bonus System/Loot Options), Furious Killer (Attribute bump when defeating consecutive enemies), Unstoppable Force (Grants 1% penetration to subsequent attacks)

Active Traits: Human, Mana Sensitivity (100% out of 300% augmentation enabled; Enhanced Vulnerability disabled), Adversary Analysis (Perception), Indomitable (Focus), Destructive (Strength), Enhanced Destruction (Strength), Override Engine (Attunement), Evolution is My Weapon (Toughness), Daemonic Mana Influence (Specialty), Daemonic Insight (Specialty), Draconic Insight (Specialty)

HUD Updates: Auto-throttle (Physical)

Other: Blood Sanctification (Your next Attunement trait is guaranteed to enhance Override Engine)

Spells: Summon Daemonic Companion, Possess Interior (AKA Animate (Occupied Skeleton), Word of Command (AKA Commanding Word)*

Spell Note: Alternative spell names are listed as the System sees them. Those versions are reduced in capabilities versus Dean's.

Available Traits:

· Grace (Starter)

· Mind X 2 (Starter and Standard)

· Attunement (Standard)

Attributes

Strength – 150

Endurance – 115

Grace – 107

Focus – 100

Mind – 150

Perception – 120

Attunement – 150

***

Applicable Organic Skills

Organic skills are listed as a % above baseline (Earth) human normal. Martial Arts of 10% indicates that Dean is 10% better than the average human. As this list could become comprehensive, it will be updated based on training, magical items, and use.

·           Martial Arts: 10%

·           Basic Survival: 5%

·           “The Lore”: 45%

***

Notable Inventory

Exchange Credits: 16,800

Inventory Management Pouch X 2

Concealable Inventory Pouch X 4

Unforged Rod (Relic)

Zack's Belt of True Ambidexterity (Relic)

Fanto's Frantic Footwear of Frenetic Frenzy and Floating (Relic)

Shield of the Jade Queen's Guardian X 2 (Relic)

Scholesis Daggers X 4 (Clovash-only Relic)

Necklace of Elemental Protection (Lesser)

Vambraces of Weapon Holding (Lesser)

Headdress of Storms (Unclaimed -- Was too distracted to ask Steward about this! Remember to do it next time!)

Okaku Intelligence Chit

Pouch of Thongaku Spores

Incapacitation Bombs (Okaku-only) X 20

Shortsword of Grievous Wounds (Adds 10% Grace bonus to damage; critical damage increased by 5%)

Amulet of Anti-Scrying X 1 (Resists remote viewing and probability effects)

Killer Boots (+30% to stealth skills; +15% to tracking; +25% movement speed)

Bow of Freezing Punition (Arrows fired from this bow do double damage against cold-sensitive creatures, such as the clovash, and applies a freeze effect)

Quiver of Infinite Arrows (Stores up to 300 arrows; 5 mana can be spent to generate 10 new ones)

Greatsword of the Lich Tyrant (Relic-quality old magic item)

Enthraller's Music Box (Necromancy Enhanced) X 10

Long Range Jumper X 1 (3 charges)

Jumper Access Token X 1

Augmentor Dagger (Summoning) X 1

Short Range Jumper (3 Charges) X 1

Survival Scroll X 2

Author's Final Thoughts

Thank you for reading Apocalypse BREAKER book one.

Creating this book has been an incredible work of love between all of us at Pivot Press and Sean Oswald, who gave generously of his time and energy to uplift every aspect of this project. If you enjoyed this book, it would mean the world if you'd consider leaving a review. Those are the life's blood of authors, especially in new series like this one.

What's Next? Well, the pre-order for book 2 is already up (https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FBFHXDQF), so…stay tuned. Dean's adventures are far from over.

Cast of Characters (Earth)

Abraham, Jason (System Activated): Member of SMB; from Florida (Nickname 'OP Wiz'); Spellcasting specialist

Chantal, Lieutenant (System Activated): French military; Officer at Counterstrike

Cole, Reggie (System Activated): Member of SMB; from Texas (Nickname 'Texas'); Explosives Specialist

Cruz (System Activated): Member of SMB; from New Mexico; Necromancy specialist

Dennings, Commander Samantha: System-Activated soldier with authority over most American ground operations

Marvick, Captain (System Activated): Congolese military; Officer at Counterstrike; Leader of SMB

McFay, Lieutenant Sharon (System Activated): Senior analyst and System expert at Counterstrike. She has a photographic memory

Nicholson, Captain Mary (System Activated): Medical officer at Counterstrike

Tucker, Major Phil: Oversees Counterstrike

Tunde (System Activated): Member of SMB; Nigerian; Assassination Specialist

Vince (System Activated): Soldier; member of Commander Dennings' team

Williams, Brian: Dean's deceased, geeky brother

Williams, Dean: Main character with migraines and anger issues. Nicknamed 'Triple-A' due to events in the book

Cast of Characters (Alien)

● Aderle: Female protector of a relic on Layrael. Related to the Void tutorial quest

● Black-tail: System adventurer; clovash species. Related to the Thanderkand quest; member of the Rat Eater's guild

● Blue-eyes: System adventurer; clovash species. Related to the Thanderkand quest; member of the Rat Eater's guild

● Brown-eyes: System adventurer; clovash species. Related to the Thanderkand quest; member of the Rat Eater's guild

● Choko: Inner World adventurer; okaku species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest; member of the Burning Voice guild

● Dalish: Inner World adventurer; okaku species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest; member of the Burning Voice guild

● Gost: Mysterious old magic wielder; species unknown

● Hommu (Elder): System adventurer; okaku species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest; member of Vossol's clan, within the Burning Voice Guild

● Jasmine (AKA the Jade Queen): Entity currently inhabiting Yellow-crest's body. Her nature is mysterious, and has been described as being "Elder" or a peer of Telkazorin. It is believed she is "good" and takes an approach of healing to stop the System's spread, versus Telkazorin's focus on necromancy or raw force. Currently inhabiting Dean's Crossroads and bound to an agreement with Sharon.

● Kerinoth: Guardian ally of Gost

● Orange-chest: System adventurer; clovash species. Related to the Thanderkand quest; member of the Rat Eater's guild

● Purple-fangs: System adventurer; clovash species. Related to the Thanderkand quest; member of the Rat Eater's guild. Fortune-teller class

● Sabathia: Inner World adventurer; okaku species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest; member of Vossol's clan, within the Burning Voice Guild

● Steward: Guide for Dean; freed of the System's mental influence by Dean and Counterstrike

● Telkazorin: Mysterious multi-planetary entity that seems to be an enemy to the System and, potentially, to Earth as well

● Uglash: Member of the Azagrand Crusade sent to Earth

● Veknel: Member of the Azagrand Crusade sent to Earth

● Vossol: Inner World adventurer; okaku species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest; clan leader; member of the Burning Voice guild

● Wahkomb: Inner World adventurer; okaku species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest; member of the Burning Voice guild

● Yellow-crest: System adventurer; clovash species. Related to the Thanderkand Quest

Cast of Characters (System Management)

● Abethar Tsutalatan, former Senior Expansion Monitor: Alien who oversees a selection of Protected worlds. He was recently demoted to Maintenance Monitor, with all responsibilities stripped.

● Zatuula Embrinddaughter, Expansion Monitor: Alien who oversees a portion of the system’s expansion.

Glossary of Terms

● Azagrand Crusade: A coalition of guilds. These are interstellar mercenaries who behave similar to warring gangs. They work for the System to help bring planets into alignment, but also just enjoy causing extreme damage to anyone in their path, including one another.

● Base: A System-acknowledged location that acts as a teleportation/access hub for one or more adventurers. Bases allow for a wide variety of upgrades and features, including party management, enhanced HUD options, and the ability to form a clan.

● Churn: When the System begins to invade a frontier world, it will declare contested areas. While the defenders of that world stand, it promises to limit other incursions. No one knows for certain why this happens, but Lieutenant Sharon suggests it may be to punish adventurers, or to cull ones due for retirement.

● Clan: A group of adventures aligned around a central ideal or premise. The key distinction between a clan and a guild is size. Clans have a maximum of 300 active members. The System helps with this, providing specialized HUD interfaces and controls to clan leaders.

● Crossroads: A personal space some adventurers acquire. This is a safe area for planning, storage, and the management of non-combatant allies.

● Expansion: An area where the System expands into adjacent worlds.

● Event: A System-manipulated occurrence that draws Activated individuals to other realms, where quests and challenges await them. Events may be composed of one or more quests, and quests may span multiple Events. Events all start at the same time, but end independently, based on the participants activities.

● Event Burst: An Event Burst will shorten the delay between Events by between 40-95%, resulting in a significantly elevated number of Events for the same period. The duration of the period will either be 8 local months, until one adventurer survives 5 consecutive events, or until no adventurers remain on the planet. In addition to shortened delays, Events will have a higher probability to offer both greater rewards and challenges.

● Guild: A cluster of clans, all working under a systematized and organized fashion. The System helps with this, providing specialized HUD interfaces and controls to guild leaders. These controls include extensive deputization and assignment options.

● Instrumentum Benedictionis: Device that conveys title-like benefits to a recipient, but costs a massive sacrifice (usually a relic-tier magical item).

● Monumental Outcome (System Event): Have you ever wondered what happens when an adventurer gets the best possible result, one that breaks the 1-10 scale and pushes it all the way to an 11 (or even higher?). This is it. Very few items/spells/class abilities can generate these outcomes.

● Party: A group of adventurers. There are many different types of party, including "Event Locked" and "Temporary" -- each is provided with different HUD elements and automation. Adventurers may purchase upgrades from their Base to help with party management, including item sharing.

● Safehouse (Item): An extradimensional object that provided adventurers a safe place to rest and recharge.

● System Event: A System-organized event that allows System-Activated individuals to hijack quests, earning unauthorized, often elevated, rewards

Bestiary

● Clovash: Four-armed humanoids with the lower bodies of serpents, akin to "nagas" in human folklore. Cousins of the okaku, with whom they have a long-standing feud.

● Daemon: A Daemon is a fundamental magical force classified as an Elder being. It is entirely different from a "Demon" although that doesn't make it more wholesome or cuddly.

● Faythen: Fox-like humanoids.

● Fukuu: Gorilla-like creatures with bright fur.

● Kahron: Hulking, gray skinned humanoid warriors.

● Okaku: Cold-blooded reptilian humanoids who serve the System loyally. They inhabit many of the inner worlds. Cousins of the clovash, with whom they have a long-standing feud.

● Purgation Spiders: Daemonic monsters.

● Takaltu: Crustacean-like rock beings; extremely aggressive.

● Thongaku: Fungal-based life forms.

● Transforming Fallen: Corpse of a deceased adventurer, reanimated as a monster with the ability to alter its shape, including creating metallic weapons.

● Wudgie: One of four native races associated with the world where the Thanderkand quest takes place. Small, hairy creatures, they have innate magic resistance that makes them excellent at repelling the System.

Full Relic Descriptions

Author's Note: Read these at your peril, as they might be considered mild spoilers. As a reminder, Relics are considered the pinnacle of any magical item category. As such, they come in many flavors and scale differently. Not all relics are old magic, but many are. System relics, like the other magical items it produces, are fragile.

Zack’s Belt of True Ambidexterity

Historical Context: Zack was an ambitious spellcaster who hoped to one day shapeshift into a tentacular horror and cast spells with each of his tentacles independently. This belt was just one step along that path. Keep your eyes peeled for the upgrade: Zack’s Belt of True Quadridexterity!

Details:

Wearing this belt will make you ambidextrous. Furthermore, you gain several new actions in combat based on your level. We have listed the first 3 abilities below. For a comprehensive list, see the new ‘relic’ menu. These are:

· Dual Wielding: You may wield two weapons at the same time, one in each hand. This effectively increases your attack speed by 50%. You may also wield a weapon in one hand and use One-Handed Casting with the other (although you must pay the added mana cost). If you are wielding an enchanted weapon, you must use the Dual-Spell rules for added mana costs (both effects cost 50% more mana). Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Two-Handed Wielding: If you wield a melee weapon with both hands, all numeric, variable effects related to damage are doubled. This also applies to magical effects; however, triggering an effect with a mana cost will increase the activation cost by 50%. In addition, if your weapon is capable of dealing critical damage, the multiplier is increased by 150%. Finally, if the weapon has an area-effect power, the area of effect is increased by 10% per your level. Level Requirement to Use: 10

· One-Handed Casting: You may cast a spell with one hand, regardless of complexity. The mana cost is increased by 30%. Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Dual-Spell: You may cast different spells with either (or both) hands. The mana cost for both spells is increased by 50%. Level Requirement to Use: 30

· Doubled Spell: By combining one-handed casting with each hand, you may combine two separate spells. Doing so will double all numeric variables. The total mana cost for the doubled spell is 250% over the single casting variety. Limitation: This function only applies to low-effort spells that cost less than 10% of your current maximum mana. Level Requirement to Use: 35

· Twin Spell: You may cast the same spell with both hands. The mana cost for both spells is increased by 100%. Note: This function works even if other variables would limit the spells’ ability to be cast in such a way. If a spell consumes material components, you only need the components of one spell to get the benefits of both. Level Requirement to Use: 55

***

Fanto’s Frantic Footwear of Frenetic Frenzy and Floating

Historical Context: Fanto was not a serious man, but he was a brilliant one. He custom made these boots for a party member. For additional context, the person he made them for was extremely frantic and prone to frenzies. They might even have been a cat-person. The truth is lost to time.

Details

While you wear these boots you gain a passive 20% bonus to all modes of movement, including ones that require only your hands.

In addition, since they are indestructible, they effectively mitigate most damage done to your feet. You could walk over magma in these things and only suffer indirect damage from the heat and fumes. Furthermore, you gain several new actions in combat based on your level. We have listed the first 2 abilities below. For a comprehensive list, see the new ‘relic’ menu. These are:

· Floating: You effectively hover .5 inches above the ground and no longer trigger traps or other negative events due to pressure/touch. You are still treated as being on the ground for resisting friction, normal movement, etc. Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Frantic Movement: For every 10 feet you move, you gain a 5% bonus to your speed, up to a maximum of 300%. This applies to all movement modes, including ones that only require your hands. Level Requirement to Use: 18

· Frenetic: You may choose to discharge your footwear. To do this, make an attack against an opponent while the boots have any frantic momentum bonus. Increase the damage dealt by that percentage. Using this resets the frantic momentum bonus. Level Requirement to Use: 25

· Frenzy: If you kill an opponent, you gain a burst of speed, allowing you to move 10 feet instantaneously. This includes any form of movement you qualify for; if you can fly, that counts. Level Requirement to Use: 30

***

Shield of the Jade Queen’s Guardian

Historical Context: The Jade Queen specialized in creating powerful artifacts of protection. This shield was part of a set given to her elite personal guard, and enchanted specifically to resist the System’s influence.

Details:

This is a nearly-indestructible shield that can be used to block or deflect a wide variety of attacks. It also conveys three additional, level-dependent benefits as described below:

· Health Wall: Once per day you may trigger an effect that shields your entire body from damage. This shield runs out when it suffers 2 times your current hit points or after 30 seconds, whichever comes first. Level Requirement to Use: 3

· Shield Other: Target an ally within 200 feet and throw the shield while using this ability. The shield will travel to that ally and provide passive protection for 6 seconds. This effect uses your attributes and skills. When it ends, the shield falls unless Recall is used. Level Requirement to Use: 6

· Recall: The shield may now be infused with mana (up to 300). Mana depletes at a rate of 3 points per day. You may spend 25 mana to recall the shield from up to 2,500 feet. This is a telekinetic effect and uses your Attributes to determine flight speed, force, and accuracy. Level Requirement to Use: 10

World Lore: Low Mana Zone

There are a variety of Low Mana Zones. Each has the following features:

· In-State Mana: Items and people with mana will not leak or lose mana in a low (or even no-mana) zone. Inventory bags and other similar equipment will become inert, but not damaged. Warning: It is possible to “force” an inventory bag open with a sufficient influx of mana. This should be done carefully, as it could cause a rupture of the object. This could lead to unforeseen and unfortunate consequences.

· Mana Recovery Rate Reduced: Your mana recovery rate will be reduced to a % of normal.

· Health Regeneration Rate Reduced: Mana is required to regenerate health at the System-standard 10%. In a low-mana zone, your body will consume its mana reserve naturally until empty. After that, your health recovery will normalize to whatever the local mana allows, prioritizing health over all else.

· Magical Items: Most ‘lesser’ magical items will continue to function at their base level, although this will vary depending on the mana in the zone. Relics will self-repair and retain some very basic functionality but will otherwise go dormant. On a positive note: they remain indestructible.

· Spells and Abilities: Unless otherwise listed, all traits or abilities that use mana will become dormant in low-mana zones. It is possible to supercharge them with an influx of mana, but this can be dangerous. Spells work at reduced effectiveness based on the zone.

· Other Situations: There are “mana variable” areas where mana is heightened or behaves in strange ways. In most cases, your HUD will provide updated analytics.

World Lore: System Weapons

Mind-net: Device used to extract knowledge from others; extremely painful. High Attunement can be used to resist the devices.

Thongaku Spores: Nightmarish weapons used to poison entire worlds. They are gene-coded to only work against the wielder’s enemies. They are highly regulated by the System, and may not be deployed against any lesser/new worlds.

World Lore: (Starting) Crossroads Upgrades

Additional Upgrade

Description: Adds 1 upgrade slot to your crossroads.

Price: 25,000 credits.

Comfort Module (Random)

Description: Adds a comforting feature to the space.

Price: 5,000 credits.

Companion (Repeatable)

Description: Expand Crossroads access to any Activated individual with a non-combat class (or one with a combat class who completes a special ‘Companion’ quest line). They will be transported to your Crossroads. Use the Habitation Module enhancement to give them a place to live along with appropriate nourishment.

Unassigning a Companion: You may only unassign a companion during visits to the Crossroads. This will send them back to their previous world of residence or the closest System-controlled world, whichever they prefer.

Price: 20,000 credits.

Crafter (Repeatable/Upgradable)

Description: This enhancement adds a specific type of crafting area to your Crossroads. If you do not possess the requisite skills or have an ally stationed at the Crossroads to manage it, it also comes with one free companion slot to station there. Crafting stations have levels (from 1-50); the price to upgrade one is a multiplier of the base price X the new level.

Note: This enhancement does not guarantee access to an appropriate companion.

Price: 5,000 credits.

Exchange Merchant Access (Standard)

Description: Gives access to the exchange system; use this to sell unwanted magical items to a variety of vendors.

Price: 8,000 credits.

Exchange Merchant Access (Expanded)

Description: Expands access to higher-end (elite) goods.

Price: 2,000,005 credits.

Expanded Upgrades V1

Description: Expands the upgrades available for your Crossroads.

Price: 50,000 credits.

Habitation Module (Standard)

Description: Adds a habitat to your Crossroads. Companion creatures, such as familiars, permanent summons, and personal assistants (including guides), may be assigned to it. They remain in the habitat until unassigned or the owner’s death.

Price: 4,000 credits.

Habitation Module (Expanded)

Description: The habitat now comes with an extensive HUD upgrade for any assigned inhabitant. This includes inventory management features and access to System news.

Price: 80,000 credits.

Storage (Standard)

Description: Creates a storage space with 50 standard inventory units. Each purchase of this upgrade expands the slots by an additional 25 units. Expanded spaces do not take up any additional upgrade slots.

Price: 12,000 credits.

World Lore: (Encountered) HUD Upgrade List

Auto-throttle (Physical) (Optional Enhancement; 2,500 credits) This upgrade allows your HUD to automatically scale you to a % of your true physical attributes. It can be set to dynamically react to certain parameters, such as: "10% greater than the local average" or "20% greater than the local maximum" and so on.

Automated Experience Balancing (Optional Enhancement; 22,000 credits) If any member of the party has this enhancement, experience points will be normalized for all members.

Shared Rewards: All rewards listed will be provided to each contributing member of the party unless otherwise noted.

Shared Loot: By default, loot will have to be manually procured and sorted. If members have an ability that allows them to identify and collect loot magically, these benefits will not be shared with other party members.

Advanced Looting (Optional Enhancement; 27,000 credits) If purchased, all common loot powers will be shared within the group. This includes automated identifications, the ability to directly transfer loot to storage pouches or personal inventory spaces, etc. It does not grant each member access to bonus loot traits or spells, however.

Telepathy: By default, party members do not share telepathic communications.

Party Telepathy (Optional Enhancement; 45,000 credits) If any member of the party has the Party Telepathy enhancement, all members can share telepathy while in a party. Note that this is distinct from Group Telepathy, Local Telepathy, or other features.

HUD Sharing (Optional Enhancement; 8,000 credits) By default, party members cannot share HUD data directly. The HUD Sharing enhancement allows this.

HUD Sharing - Combat Plans (Optional Enhancement; 210,000 credits): To purchase this upgrade, one must first have both Party Telepathy and HUD Sharing. With it, plans may be shared telepathically over the HUD and include things like complex diagrams and ability details, etc.

Pivot Press - Other Books

As of this edition, we have quite a few different series in production. If you want to explore other books the best place to start is the Amazon Author page, which has the most up-to-date listing. Here are a few we recommend:

The Resonance Cycle is complete. Find it here. Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C6YYFSSW

Father of Constructs is hopeful, optimistic, and an entirely different take on LitRPG. It's also complete. You can find it here. Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CH93K5KP

Spite the Dark goes the opposite direction of Father, with lots of callbacks to the 90s and 2000s, with references to anime and action movies. Think of it as a more lethal, grounded series (in most ways) than Resonance. Find it here. Amazon link: https://amzn.to/3NskfVB

***

Audiobooks

Resonance 1-6 are out on Audible, with the rest of the series due this year. We just launched the first audio omnibus for books 1-3. Find it here: https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Resonance-Cycle-Omnibus-Books-1-3-Audiobook/B0F9QR5SB2

Summoner Assassin 1 is out as well. Give it a listen! Link: https://adbl.co/3JpQyCe

Father of Constructs 1, 2, and 3 are out! https://adbl.co/3Un7eAA

***

Other Titles by Pivot Press Publishing

If you want a dash of romance in your LitRPG, we recommend Dungeon Champions. Amazon Link: https://amzn.to/3ZAIY0HPre-order Book 2 of Dungeon Champions here: Amazon Link: https://amzn.to/3Ufc4j1(Audio is on the way!)

Isekai Emperor was the start of the Fateforged universe. It's an Isekai story and uber spicy, with a focus on city building and breeding. It's three books and a complete story. You can find book 1 here. Amazon: https://amzn.to/3YbelOr

The audio is here. Audible link: https://adbl.co/4eIKrqi

Dark City Girls is an urban fantasy series with Michael Dalton. It's out both in e-book and audio. You can find the book here. Amazon link: https://amzn.to/47B7rVT

The audio is here. Audible link: https://adbl.co/4exEhJJ

Fate's Enforcer is an urban fantasy series with Anne Ominous. It's got a cast that includes a bunny girl, a witch, and a pair of kitsune. You can find book 1 here. Amazon link: https://amzn.to/3XCzoIn

The audio is here. Audible link: https://adbl.co/4eQQE3v

***

Engage With Us and Other Fans!

We keep an active Patreon. Link: https://bit.ly/3RBs7GS

We also love chatting with fans and collaborators alike on Discord at https://discord.gg/GXn8csy2gg. Just be sure to pick a tag so we know which series brought you over.

Sean Oswald - Other Books

Support Sean's patreon here: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=39529448

Life in Exile

Life in Exile - A LitRPG saga following Dave Nelson and his family as they are transported to the game-world of Eloria

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08594L5X1

Also Available on Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Watchers-Test-A-LitRPG-Saga-Audiobook/B0861WGPHD

Class Shift

Class Shift - A LitRPG adventure series where the main character's class and appearance change at random

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/Class-Shift-3-book-series/dp/B09GRJKWB6

Also Available on Audible: https://www.audible.com/series/Class-Shift-Audiobooks/B09F3L7F62

Shaman's Call

Shaman's Call - A LitRPG adventure following Frank as he becomes an ogre shaman in a virtual world

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/Shamans-Call-Frostburn-Litrpg-Adventure-ebook/dp/B09GP43RM3

Also Available on Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Frostburn-Audiobook/B09SVQ8T1C

Dragon Sorcerer

Dragon Sorcerer - A LitRPG native world adventure featuring Nico, a young dragon who must hide his true nature while attending the Imperial Academy

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0C4HZWJQZ

Also Available on Audible: https://www.audible.com/pd/Claws-Out-A-LitRPG-Native-World-Adventure-Audiobook/B0C24R5GP1

Welcome to the Multiverse

Welcome to the Multiverse - A LitRPG apocalypse series where Earth must compete for its place in the multiverse

Amazon Series Link: https://www.amazon.com/Welcome-to-the-Multiverse-7-book-series/dp/B0CKVDB1VB

Also Available on Audible: https://www.audible.com/series/Welcome-to-the-Multiverse-Audiobooks/B0CKL9YTHB

Editing Note

Pivot Press is staffed by a small, but dedicated team of people. All of us have day jobs, on top of working to produce the best product available. The books we release have gone through quite a few revisions. In brief, that process is:

Author(s) drafts the material.

Author(s) edits the draft.

Pre-Alpha (Nessy) does a gut reaction of the rough cut.

Author(s) incorporate feedback.

Alpha reviewers read and comment on the story.

Author(s) incorporate feedback.

Betas review and provide comprehensive feedback and line edits.

The author(s) do another round of editing, including using tools like ProWritingAid.

Our copy editor does (1-2) passes.

Our readers on Patreon provide their advanced feedback.

Errors still make it through. We promise, these are not intentional. Whenever we receive word of bugs or glitches in the text, we do our best to address them and get them uploaded to Amazon within 24 hours. These updates will not automatically push to your device, and don't always roll out in a timely manner. If your book has “hang nails” or small errors, please make sure you’re reading the latest version. To verify you have the latest version follow these instructions:

Go to Manage Your Content and Devices.

Search for your Kindle book.

If available, select Update Available, then select Update.

Tip: To receive automatic book updates as they become available from the publisher or author, enable Automatic Book Update on the Preferences tab in Manage Your Content and Devices.

If the errors remain, please feel free to let us know on Discord or Patreon.

With sincere gratitude,

The Pivot Press Team

Appreciations

The authors of Apocalypse BREAKER would like to thank the Pivot Press team. In no particular order these include:

Nessy, who has to suffer through the pre-alpha reads of everything that we put out. Everyone in Discord celebrate Nessy!

Ash, who has been our copy editor for 3+ years now.

Cliff and Tyler, who worked on both the text and the audio versions of this project. We literally could not do this without you both.

TJ, John, Odin, Ghost (and Pivot Press webguru), Pxslip, and Mike H. Each of you provided incredible feedback during the drafting process of our longest book ever.

LitRPGGroup Shout

We appreciate the LitRPGGame Group on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPGGroup) for allowing us to promote our book to their amazing members.

LitRPG Society Shout

Go Visit LitRPG Society for more LitRPG books, recommendations, and discussions. You can find them at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/LitRPGsociety

GameLit Society Shout

Big shout to the GameLit Society on Facebook (link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1064527556978838) for allowing us to advertise our work to their amazing members!

Bonus: MARVICK'S CHAMPIONSHIP-CLAIMING COSMIC RIB DOMINATION

As dictated by Captain Marvick, Scorched Mobility Battalion, transcribed with minimal censorship

INGREDIENTS YOU WILL REQUIRE

FOR THE AUDACIOUS RUB:

● 4 tablespoons paprika (MUST BE SMOKED OR DO NOT BOTHER CONTINUING)

● 3 tablespoons DARK brown sugar (LIGHT BROWN IS FOR WEAKLINGS)

● 2 tablespoons kosher salt (THE FLAKY KIND THAT FIGHTS BACK)

● 2 tablespoons ground black pepper (FRESHLY CRUSHED BETWEEN YOUR HANDS)

● 1 tablespoon pili pili spice (THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL, RECRUIT)

● 1 tablespoon garlic powder (FRESH WOULD BE BETTER BUT I RESPECT YOUR TIME LIMITATIONS)

● 1 tablespoon onion powder (SEE ABOVE)

● 2 teaspoons cumin (TOASTED FIRST OR DISHONOR YOUR ANCESTORS)

● 2 teaspoons ground coriander (SAME AS ABOVE)

● 1 teaspoon dried thyme (LIKE THE TEARS OF YOUR ENEMIES)

FOR THE COURAGEOUS BASTING SAUCE:

● 1 cup apple cider vinegar (ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES)

● 1/2 cup palm oil (IF YOU USE VEGETABLE OIL WE CANNOT BE FRIENDS)

● 1/4 cup hot pepper sauce (MADE FROM REAL FIRE)

● 1/4 cup molasses (THE DARKEST YOU CAN FIND)

● 3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce (I CANNOT PRONOUNCE THIS BUT IT IS CRUCIAL)

● 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard (FRENCH THINGS ARE OCCASIONALLY ACCEPTABLE)

● 3 cloves garlic (CRUSHED BY HAND)

● 2 whole bird's eye chilies (REMOVE IF YOU ARE TEXAS, KEEP IF YOU ARE LIKE TUNDE)

FOR THE MEAT:

● 4 racks of pork ribs (MINIMUM 3 POUNDS EACH OR FACE MY DISAPPOINTMENT)

BATTLE PLAN

PREPARATION IS THE KEY TO VICTORY! Remove the membrane from back of ribs using your BARE HANDS. If you require a knife, report for additional training immediately.

COMBINE THE RUB COMPONENTS WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. Ensure complete integration. Failure here will result in inconsistent flavor deployment.

DOMINATE THE RIBS WITH YOUR RUB. Apply with force and conviction, as if you are breaking in new boots. More is better. Cover every millimeter or consider yourself defeated before you begin.

WRAP THE SUBJUGATED RIBS in plastic film and refrigerate for NO LESS than 8 hours. Overnight is superior. During this time, the rub will be infiltrating the meat's defenses.

ONE HOUR BEFORE COOKING, remove ribs from cold storage. They must reach room temperature. THIS IS NOT NEGOTIABLE.

MEANWHILE, COMBINE ALL BASTING INGREDIENTS in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a tactical simmer, then reduce heat. Allow to integrate for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally with PURPOSE.

PREPARE YOUR SMOKER OR GRILL for indirect heat, maintaining 250°F (121°C). THIS TEMPERATURE HAS BEEN OPTIMIZED THROUGH EXTENSIVE FIELD TESTING. Use hardwood for smoke. Mesquite is acceptable. Hickory is superior.

POSITION RIBS ON GRATE with bone side facing the heat source. This is their shield wall.

COOK FOR THREE HOURS UNDISTURBED. Opening the lid is INSUBORDINATION.

AFTER THREE HOURS, apply basting sauce generously using brush with NATURAL bristles. Return to heat for 30 minutes.

REPEAT BASTING OPERATION every 30 minutes for an additional TWO HOURS.

TEST FOR DONENESS! Ribs should bend easily when lifted from one end but SHOULD NOT FALL APART. That is FAILURE. If meat has pulled back from bone ends by approximately 1/4 inch, you are close to victory.

REMOVE FROM HEAT. Allow to rest for 15 minutes MINIMUM. This is not negotiable. The juices must redistribute or all your work will have been FOR NOTHING.

SERVE WITH CONVICTION alongside ugali (cornmeal porridge) and sombe (cassava leaves). Anyone who reaches for sauce is QUESTIONING YOUR ABILITIES.

SPECIAL FORCES NOTES:

● If cooking indoors is your only option, use oven at 275°F (135°C) for 3.5 hours, then finish under broiler. This is SUB-OPTIMAL but acceptable for survival conditions.

● Triple-A CAN handle full spice levels. Do not adjust for his benefit.

● ABSOLUTELY NO PINEAPPLE. This is not negotiable. Wiz attempted this modification once. ONCE.

REMEMBER: Cooking is like combat. Attention to detail, timing, and overwhelming force lead to victory. DISMISSED!