Daniel burst out of the blackness. Alarm bells blared in his mind, and he was on his feet almost instantly. Weaponless but ready.

The light-yellow-furred mutated human was dead in front of him, and Ivey was poking the last zombie, each poke just making it struggle harder. He looked down the corridor in each direction, trying to determine how much time had passed.

The trapped one was roaring, but nothing was coming, and Ivey despite her aggressive efforts, was only tickling the zombie. With a curse, he retrieved his club.

“I will finish it.”

Ivey nodded and stepped back, and he slammed the head with his club. It was four swings before the zombie stilled because of the remnants of his wooden net getting in the way, or possibly it was tougher than a typical one of the beasts. He swung twice more to make sure the zombie was dead and stopped for a moment, huffing and puffing from the exertion.

The blackout must have been seconds at most. There was no noise on the floor and no movement. Daniel started moving the broken traps back into their hotel room. He would need to reset them before they explored further.

That fight was way too close.

Across from him, Ivey stood up from a zombie, having retrieved the first core.

Daniel’s eyes dropped to the dead monster that, but for Ivey’s bravery, would have butchered him. The paw was held out towards him and he focused on those claws, remembering how they had shredded the traps and tore them to bits. The fragments he had collected had deep scores despite the traps being constructed of dense, reinforced wood.

Greed filled him. Those claws were special, and even with their owner dead, they made the hairs on the back of his head tingle.

“Can body parts have magic in them?”

Ivey said nothing as she kept hacking away.

“Ivey?”

“What?” she said, her voice just on the edge of hysterical. Daniel paused for a moment and looked closely at her. Maybe she was not as stable and in control as he had thought.

Should he intervene, say something, give her a cuddle? The thoughts swept through his brain. When his sisters were like this, he had retreated to his room, or if it was daylight, to farm work. What did he know about hysterical women?

She was not hysterical, but he could see the signs. He felt like a moppet, not knowing what to do. After another few seconds of hesitation, he decided to give her space.

“I am going to chop off the monsters’ claws.”

Ivey said nothing, just hacked with frantic, jerky movements as she tried to pull out a second core. The remnants of net hat covering it were getting in the way. Daniel did not say anything to risk setting her off. He dropped his hands next to her, and the tangled wood fell away and gave her access to the chest. He did not know how it was going to go, but it felt like there was at least a fifty percent chance she was going to break down into helpless bawling.

There was a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but her face was determined, and she focused on processing the zombie. Daniel created holes in the restraint on the final zombies and went to the broken door, and his hand glowed green. It was actually pretty cool to watch, but as always, there was no genuine opportunity to sightsee as he needed to direct his magic. His focus rushed through the wood to the lower section of the door. The timber changed upon his direction, and when he kicked it; the integrity fell away, and there was a cloud of dust like it had been filled with termites.

Daniel looked down at his prize. It was a perfect, machete-like blade. Daniel held it to his eye. It was wood, but for now, it was literally razor sharp. It still gave him a thrill of excitement to think that he could do some just with his imagination.

Daniel went over to the yeti, which given its colour, size, and shape felt like an appropriate name. If it had been spotted in a different location before magic came into the world, Daniel was confident that a video of it would have gone viral as conclusive proof of the abominable snowman’s existence. Hell, even in Melbourne the video would have gone viral along with some sort of mad-scientist-led conspiracy. Daniel felt a flash of sadness. He missed the safety of yesterday.

No, he told himself. He would deal with what the world presented, and this was no dream or nightmare. He had long since concluded that it was real.

With three savage swings, he chopped off the first paw and then the second. He could extract the actual claws later. Then, because Ivey was still on her third zombie, looking like she wanted to either hack something living to pieces or curl into a ball, he fell into his default activity of finding work. The machete had worked for hacking the paws off, an activity it was designed for, but it was a blade, so he used it to chop into the yeti’s chest to extract its core. Leaving it to Ivey to always do it was unfair.

Take that, take that, he chanted in his head with each swing. This thing had almost killed him and now . . . he struck again. Despite his continual patching of the edge of the blade, the process permanently ruined it. Frowning, he put the previous amazing blade aside to be recycled into a trap.

With the core extracted and available, Daniel was not sure that he wanted to use it. The fast ones gave speed, but the choice in this case differed from the others he had rejected. It was also a brute, but it had magic claws, extra strength, and general toughness. While the other one was almost certainly granted size, this new core could give him something more useful. Not size or claws, but he would appreciate the toughness.

His mind raced. Ivey was hacking at the third zombie, and tears were still running down her face. He knew her opinion, and he really did not want to set her off in this current state. Either he hid it or consumed it.

Power and strength.

Mutation and size.

She wiped her face, leaving a smear of blood on her cheek. And the one source of information that could help him decide was unavailable.

There were going to be hundreds of zombies. From this floor alone, he knew that now.

He didn’t want to end up a monster. That was the simple fact. He liked himself how he was and this . . . this pebble in his hands might make him a monster.

More to buy thinking time than for any other reason, he examined the core. It was rust-coloured with sparkles, some sort of cross between marble and quartz. Rejecting it went against the whole get-stronger-at-all-costs gimmick, but it was his life, and if this turned him into a monster . . .

He picked up his club and pressed the core into its side. Just like the last time, the wood was pliable and slid in like a stone into wet mud. There was no need to even smooth the club down afterwards. It did that itself, returning to its usual form. Being able to manipulate wood was a godsend, especially with those claws. It meant he could incorporate them into the club without breaking structural integrity. It added another layer to what he could do.

Ivey was finished, and she looked simultaneously like she was going to throw up or explode into a mad rage.

Daniel ducked his head, not wanting to make eye contact.

Best to be busy.

“Do you want me to—” He nodded towards the hotel room, guessing she would understand it was an offer to build more traps.

“No, let’s find out where they were breaking into.”

“We should get some extra weapons first.”

“Come on,” Ivey said in frustration. She was actually glaring at him. “If there were any more, they would attack us.”

She stalked down the corridor to where they had heard the hammering. He hurriedly followed. This was stupid. He should be leading. He tried to scamper forward, to go fast without running. The world blurred slowly, and as he moved, Ivey slowed down, and then he was past her.

“Whoa.”

Surprisingly, he was puffing slightly from the effort, and Ivey was looking wide-eyed at him.

“When did you learn that?”

Learn what? Was all he could think while wondering as he did so why he was feeling lightheaded. His mind laboriously pieced together the different sensations: the way she had slowed down, how he had walked normally and easily overtaken her. It was a magic world, and there were lots of explanations, but the coincidence of his speed ability that his innate skills had shown and what he had done could not be disputed.

For a moment, he was reliving his memories of when that first zombie moved. It had blurred through the trap, and he imagined that was how he must have looked from Ivey’s perspective.

“New skill but leaves me puffed,” he explained while sucking in air.

Ivey nodded a pleased expression. “If you can do that in combat . . .”

It was a good point. If it worked when fighting, he could get clean hits on anything.

They rounded the corner, and it was pretty clear where the zombies had attacked. The door was half shattered, and through the broken wooden panels, he could see parts of bed. The occupants of the room had reinforced the door with the room’s furniture. Daniel guessed that was what they should have done, but then again, they had been attacked before they could strategize.

Daniel tilted his head to indicate that Ivey should do the initial engagement. Now that she was doing, she no longer looked like she wanted to break down.

A small, slight woman he could imagine, nothing less threatening. Maybe Ivey without dried blood on her cheek, but he did not want to suggest they take the time to wash up. She would probably hit him if he tried. What had been briefly visible was probably still just under the surface.

She walked up and then knocked loudly on part of the door that was not broken. Silence greeted her.

“The feral mutated humans are dead,” she called out. “Is anyone in there?”

Not a peep came from the room.

“Listen, we are not comfortable out here.”

There was still no noise. Then a baby started crying. They all heard the shhing sounds.

“We need to band together,” Ivey continued. “Can you open up?”

They heard hushed conversation.

“Next room,” a man’s voice called. They waited, and there was a sound of furniture moving and a short time later, the door opened. “Connecting rooms.”

“Can we come in?” Ivey asked. The guy was portly, with olive skin, some form of Mediterranean heritage.

“Of course, but we have been stuck here, and it is a bit.” A girl of around eleven poked her head out, peering over her dad’s shoulder.

“Gabby,” the man instantly snapped, pointing back into the room.

“We would prefer to come in. I am not sure we have killed them all,” Ivey said reasonably.

The man stepped aside, and they hurried in.

It stank.

Human excrement, dirty nappies, and maybe body odour. Given the circumstances, it was not surprising but was still unpleasant. He could see the wife, and another boy of about eight. With five people stuck inside without a working toilet, it was all brutally natural. Ivey covered her nose and the man who had let them in winced slightly.

The door shut behind him, and Daniel, by instinct, touched it and channelled his magic into it. Strengthening. It only took a moment and used a tenth of his strength, but it would now hold against a normal zombie. Probably not the giant one, but any protection was good.

“What was that?” the man asked. He did not look suspicious, just curious.

“Magic,” Daniel replied, attempting a nonchalant shrug. Like, you know, going for the “I know I am awesome, but I am going to pretend I am normal” vibe.

“I figured. What type?”

“Tree magic,” Ivey answered smoothly. “Daniel, reinforce the other one, before introductions.”

The other door was more damaged, and he sank over half of his reserves to restore it. There were gasps behind him where the shattered wood actually fused back together.

They then rushed through introductions. They were a family unit, and everyone had survived. The dad, Anthony, was a plumber from Sydney and chosen to be a paladin. Mum Trudy looked like a true-blue bogan country lass, and Daniel liked her immediately. She had a farmer’s class, which might have been where he would have ended up if he had actually got an interface.

Thinking of the yeti and the other ones he had destroyed, he had nothing to complain about. At least he still had his mind. The kids were Gabriel or Gabby, Zach the eight-year-old, and a baby boy. The older two apparently had interfaces, but they had no class. The baby had no class but appeared to be fine.

“Are you skilled in any weapons?” Ivey asked Anthony.

The older man reddened. “Yeah, sword and shield, but . . .” He shrugged, looking around the room.

“We will get you some,” Ivey declared, waving at Daniel to do his magic. They had connecting rooms and Daniel understood exactly what Ivey wanted. “We have a couple of hours of daylight and we should clear the floor while we can,” she told them taking charge. “Anthony can come help, while Trudy looks after the kids.”

“We want to stay together,” Anthony protested.

Ivey hit him with a death stare. “And how much water do you have?”

“Enough.”

“How many days?”

Anthony stopped protesting. “Maybe one.”

“There are mutated humans above and below us. Over time, they might not get stronger in a literal sense, but they will learn to use their current abilities. They will organise, like that big white one controlled the others.” She nodded back outside the room. “We already know everything we can do. Unless we get experience by fighting, we will not get stronger. Do you see the problem? Our enemies get more powerful while we stagnate. Turtling is the wrong choice. We need to strike as hard and as fast as possible.”

“I don’t know.”

“You need to,” Trudy said quietly, interrupting him. “Killing the feral ones will make us safer. Better now than when it is dark.”

Daniel tuned it all out as he focused on the internal connecting door. The top third became a shield, solid wood with a wooden handle on the underside to let Anthony have a grip on his forearm supporting the bulk of the shield. It felt like the design would work, but if the handle was in the wrong spot, it was not like he couldn’t fix it, providing he gave himself time to recharge his mana.

There was extra wood, so he created another pressure plate.

Finally, he stepped back and, with a bit of brute force, the components he had wanted fell out. He handed the new sword and shield to Anthony and the man grimaced.

“What?”

Anthony explained about every bit of the design. The centre of weight of the sword was too far from the pommel. The inside of the shield was not curved enough. The handle was wrong. A square shield was better than a round one.

Daniel groaned a little internally wishing that he had sought details before launching into the crafting. It was an amateur move.

“But it is really good!”

Daniel stared at him in disbelief at the last comment. “I think we need to get you weapons you are comfortable with.”

Daniel converted the shield into a smaller pressure plate and fixed up the sword to address the flaws as best he could. There was only so much that he could do. It was made of wood, for goodness’ sake. A glorious practice weapon, but it was all they had and despite its origination as a door, the edge was sharp and the wood was dense. It would probably cut the zombies into pieces, but if he was to use it against armour or weapons, that flaw of being a wooden weapon would be overwhelming, at least at his current skill level. Daniel was convinced that the wood of his clubs was getting denser, and if he could duplicate it for the sword, a lot of its weaknesses might be covered.

The final change to the blade was to use four of his eight claws to create a serrated edge halfway down. If Anthony was smart and he needed to cut something, that small patch would do the trick.

Blade complete, he handed it to Anthony and watched the other man take a few practice swings. He moved with a silky smoothness. He might have been a plumber the day before, but now he was a proper swordsman. A paladin.

“Wow, it feels good to have a real weapon.”

Daniel was no judge of swordsmanship, but it looked like Anthony knew what he was doing. “Did you used to belong to a sword club or something?”

Anthony stopped swinging the sword. “Nope, but every level includes some automatic sword training. I have like sixty days of intensive drills and coaching shoved into my head.”

They chatted about much and ten minutes later, with Daniel’s energy restored, he moved to the next door. The shield Anthony wanted was larger than he had expected the man to request, but Anthony had described it in detail, including how it was usually made with lots of cross flanks of reinforcement. The design was effectively a throwaway one, with the shield only designed to last a single engagement, but with Anthony’s skills and Daniel’s ability to fundamentally change the nature of the wood, he was confident that he could create something that would be as strong as even the upgraded shields in Anthony’s memory that included metal reinforcements.

Finally, Daniel stepped back, feeling like a lot of time had passed.

“How long?”

“Half an hour in all,” Ivey called out. She was playing Uno with the kids. Disturbingly silent Uno, but Daniel could see how much the parents were appreciating the help.

He had taken too long. They needed to get moving. The sun would set soon. He could feel the time pressure building up. Ideally, they wanted to clear the rest of the floor before dark.

“Anthony.” Daniel handed the shield across.

“Wow, light,” Anthony exclaimed after picking it up. “Will it work?”

“As well as something ten times its weight,” Daniel answered and was not exaggerating.

Anthony, from his expression, did not look convinced. “Thanks, I look forward to not finding out if that is right or not.”

Trudy laughed at the joke, and Ivey might have smiled, but Daniel’s thoughts were already turning to their task. Three pressure plates, one half size, and one restraint. Pushing before dark was the right decision, but Daniel felt under prepared and hoped it would be okay; after all, they had killed the mob of zombies.

They needed to make certain of every battle and to do that; they had to have the right tools. Once more, he felt like they rushed that important preparation step. Time. They were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t.

There was one last thing to do. He held the yeti claws in one hand and his club in the other. His hands glowed green, and he pressed the four claws into the compliant wood, leaving them sticking out on one side, mirroring the anatomy of the creature he had extracted them from. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine a zombie claw having been atrophied into the club.

“Let’s go.”