“Eric, we’re here.”

Eric flashed a hard smile when the crow pointed his beak at the entrance to the closest rift open to the adventuring public, though not surprisingly, the crackling portal was free of spectators, adventurers or any other sort of personnel, since it was 3 in the morning. And as much as it might be pure psychology, adventurers, according to Morlekai, tended to only want to delve if they could come out to a bright sunny day after daring the deeps.

The well-fortified keep serving as a rest stop and equipment repair station for wandering adventurers, however, was most definitely open and operating at full swing.

Eric shared a nod with his crow as they knocked on the reinforced door, were given a cursory eyeball and allowed entrance as a wave of humid air, sweaty people, and cheerful boozy inebriation washed over a smiling Eric who soon found himself nodding at any number of rosy cheeked patrons sitting on wooden stools or, for the better dressed and clearly higher level, elevated booths with fine hardwood tables, most patrons feasting on an assortment of roast meats and pies, all of them slinging back meed, ale, and finer spirits like there was no tomorrow. And fortunately for the delvers among them at least, as far as their liver was concerned, there was no yesterday to regret either, every morning promising their bodies a fresh, fully rejuvenated start.

The attire was definitely adventurer casual, patrons wearing everything from gambeson and hose to dress shirts and mail vest, to full sets of half-plate sans the helmet, and everything in between. In short, it was what any adventurer would wear after coming back from another foray into the dungeon less than a hundred yards away who may, or may not, have taken the time to drop off their gear and prizes in their rented rooms or bother changing at all before coming downstairs to fill their bellies and wash away their sorrows.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you before, son. What can I get you?” This from a large barrel-chested man wearing a spotless apron who couldn’t be anything but a Professional InnKeeper.

Eric smiled and knocked on the fine hardwood counter waxed and polished to a warm golden glow. “I’d love whatever a copper can get me. And any tips on the rift you can give me, I’d be grateful for.”

Much to his credit, the Innkeeper’s smile didn’t curl into a smirk or cold disdain when Eric’s seemingly impoverished state became clear. Instead Eric thought he saw genuine sympathy twinkle in the man’s eyes. “I’ll get you a small bitter and a bowl of stew. And don’t worry, we don’t stint on the meat around here Just don’t ask where it came from,” the guy said with a wink.

Eric grinned right back. “That’s okay, I like monster meat. Sometimes it seems like it’s the only thing I can get ahold of, but hell, isn’t eating carnivore supposed to be good for us?”

The man shrugged. “Could be, son. I don’t know about you, but I like a little fresh baked bread slathered in butter, and maybe a side of mashed potatoes with my mystery meat, but each to their own. Now as to your question, you’re in luck. Because the portal entrance nearby is both one of the very few public ones that seems to stretch forever, and touches realms of nightmare so lightly that even a band of experienced Conscripts can handle it, so long as they learn from their betters and know how to use the weapons they’re carrying.”

Eric gave a knowing nod. “Level 5 or thereabouts?”

The man smirked. “Critters around level 10, most often roaming solo, or in packs of 2 to 3. But very occasionally they can roam in packs of half a dozen, since Death likes to sneak up on the overconfident and foolish. Endless tunnels and caverns, but since you’re tethered by an astral cord, all it takes is closing your eyes and stepping back to exit the dungeon.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “Shit, that’s a priceless quick-save and reboot feature right there!”

This earned Eric a sad smile from underneath the man’s impressive mustache.

“Sadly, no. Because although you can pull away when your psyche is surrounded by the mists of nightmare alone, the critters you would face will anchor you for the duration of combat. You can’t even flee them, since they’re effectively right next to your astral self. You have to fight, and survive. If you manage that, then yes. You can explore an endless realm of corridors, caverns, and wonder. More than a few crews will travel for a full day and night to head just as deep as they can, where bands of half a dozen horrors are far more common, chasing rumors of trace deposits of precious ore, as well as gold and jewels any mage would kill for… or simply pay a pretty penny to take off your hands.”

The man flashed a roguish grin. “But that, my young friend, is not a trek to take lightly, or without a full complement that knows exactly what they’re doing.”

Eric grinned. “But at least this rift is pretty much limitless, right? You don’t have to join any guild and wait for time slots to enter, do you?”

“No, you don’t,” said the hard-eyed man seated next to Eric, wearing an impressive collage of steel and mail and an even more impressive beard, downing a king-sized tankard while eyeing Eric all the while with his pale blue eyes. “Rifts like this are free of petty politics and backbiting, I’ll grant you that. Anyone can enter and is welcome. But it comes at a cost. If you don’t know what you’re doing, if you’re not running with a fully kitted group of men and women, death is only a single mistake away.”

The powerfully built warrior shook his head. “Too many young fools try this rift who don’t know the first thing about adventuring. Thinking that just because sometimes they’ll luck out with safer encounters that they won’t roll snake-eyes and come across a trio of Frog-heads armed with bone spears and hate like you wouldn’t believe.”

The man snorted sadly before giving Eric a careful once-over. “But I can tell you’ve got some experience at the Delver’s game. Because sure as shit, that ain’t your typical steel lamellar, and that bardiche is radiating something my skills ping as best not to fuck with.” He gave a satisfied nod. “Good! You might actually survive for more than a single lucky afternoon in the deeps. Name’s Melton.”

Eric grinned. “Thanks for the concern, and the kind words. I always appreciate meeting decent folk. Name’s Eric. And yes, I’m happy to say I’ve managed to keep myself in one piece so far.” He raised his small beer. “Here’s to hoping that trend continues.”

Melton smirked and raised his far larger tankard in toast. “Amen to that, brother. Here’s to many save delves for us both. So, what brings you out to this neck of the woods, Eric?”

Eric chuckled ruefully. “Seems my knack for survival doesn’t extend to coins. I got roped into a bad contract, and just got informed that everything I thought was going into my account was instead going into my… partners. Now my former allies are laughing at me like I’m a fool, and the folk we crossed sure as hell won’t be giving me any second chances now. So I thought, fuck it. I can either take a long walk off a short cliff, or, since there are no cliffs or piers around here, just take my lumps and start fresh. Because if there’s one thing I always loved to do whenever I played Skydragon back in the day, it was start fresh and pretend I was the chosen one all along, not the idiot fool who managed to get killed in act one.”

Melton gazed at Eric thoughtfully before flashing a sympathetic smile. “Been there myself, kid. Back before the world became something out of my nephew’s favorite RPG. Had a sweet family, nice house, good job, everything a man could ask for.”

Eric gazed sympathetically at the man as he dug into the soup the Innkeeper wordlessly put before him in exchange for a single copper coin. “Sounds like I’m not the only one who had a rough time of it.”

The man nodded. “Not by a long shot. But here’s the beauty of post apocalypse Earth. We can all start fresh, no matter how fucked up things were before. Doesn’t matter if we were dying of cancer after poisoning our bodies with shit we never should have dabbled with, or were penniless losers with nothing but a criminal record to our name. If you got nothing to lose and actually manage to survive the pods? We’re talking A+ fresh start, with a body that stops aging and the chance to get as strong as any Olympian.

Eric blinked in genuine surprise. “No shit. We won’t get any older? Are you sure?”

The man grinned, showing off perfect teeth. “Let me put it this way, son. I’ve never felt stronger or healthier in my life, I get more powerful with every level up, and I have no plans on ever slowing down.”

Eric smirked. “Fair enough.”

The crow on his shoulder cawed softly, before biting his ear, earning a bemused look from his eating companion. “That you’re familiar?”

Eric grimaced, already well aware that he was wasting too much time. He could all too readily imagine his enemies closing in, even now. “I guess he is, at that. And now if you’ll excuse me… time to get adventuring,” he said with a wink, before waving at the Innkeeper. “Thanks for the stew. I’ll be back later with some sweet loot to trade, don’t you doubt it!”

The Innkeeper nodded. “This keep has human traders offering fair rates, and a smith for any repairs. But you be careful out there, alright? If your so hard up you need to head off right now… our smith could use a strong pair of arms like yours, and there’s no shame in learning a craft, you know.”

Melvin frowned. “You sure you want to head off delving at 3 in the morning kid? I’d recommend a good night’s sleep. Who knows? Might just be you’ve made a solid enough impression that you could have a crew at your back, if you’re interested.”

Eric flashed a genuinely grateful smile, not hesitating to shake Melvin’s hand. “Thanks, Melvin. I just might take you up on that offer tomorrow, if it’s still open, and be damned grateful for it too! But I always like to at least dip my toes in any new delve before I commit, one way or the other.”

The man scratched his beard then shrugged. “Do what works for you, I guess,” he said before taking another sip of his ale.

But Eric was already out the door, making a beeline for the dungeon entrance, and never had he felt so relieved to sense absolutely no one else with his infravision as he raced towards the rift… before barrel rolling right under the oddly crackling portal of inky darkness and racing at full speed through the wait-high grass towards the blinking light his dominion map pinged as the entrance to his ultimate destination, and quite likely his salvation as well.

“Do you think they bought it?”

The crow nodded. “Hook, line, and sinker. With any luck, the goblins will actually think Blue Corp fucked you over, and now you’re a penniless clueless idiot trying to start fresh, having absolutely no idea that they want to take you out.”

Eric nodded. “Because if Blue Corp was comprised of goblins, of course they would shaft their clients whenever and wherever they could get away with it, blind to all the strengths that cooperative, mutually beneficial arrangements might bring. Because screwing people over is just so deeply ingrained in the Goblin psyche.”

The crow still perched on his shoulder, feathers actually ruffling in the breeze Eric generated racing through the plains as fast as he was, gave Eric an appraising look. “Eric, that was an absolutely absurd fortune in gold you left in the hands of virtual strangers. We’re talking the net worth of a small nations, especially post-apocalypse. Are you truly sure your assets are, in fact, your own? That this Blue Corp won’t be hosting a token funeral in your honor when you conveniently disappear and they take full control over your assets?”

The crow snorted when Eric glared his way.

“Stop looking at me like that, Eric. You accuse the goblins of being too cynical and selfish? Fair point. But ruthless as you can be when you’re defending your friends, you tend to love fast and hard, and you’re far too much of an idealist for this mercenary world.”

Eric flushed and bowed his head, knowing that what his friend said was true. He had, after all, given a young mom he hadn’t even known a week ago a king-sized condominium to call her own. Not to mention eight million credits in solid gold. And he didn’t regret it one bit. Even knowing that if she had a lick of common sense, she’d never want to see him again, after the horrific stunt his mom had pulled, and with an entire goblin consortium now after his head.

Eric managed a soft chuckle, refusing to let himself be ruled by the bitter fear, regret, and sorrow that could so easily consume his life.

“I think at the end of the day, I don’t really care. Because it doesn’t matter, Morlekai. There was no way I could hold that gold for much longer. I could feel myself coming apart at the seems. It was either trusting the Blue Faction, or the Goblins. Because after Rica and I almost got assassinated by a band of cutthroats for the gold in my tactical backpack alone, because some assholes have instant appraisal nodes I didn’t even know was a thing, I know there was no way in hell I could safely bury it or hold it anywhere.”

He shrugged. “Either way, that gold needed a safe place for me to put it, and I think I made the best choice I could. And on the off chance that even Blue has been selling me a mound of bullshit and that they’d be as happy as the goblins to see my head on a pike, well, fuck it! Look at me, Morlekai. I’m racing through fields in the dead of night with perfect vision, faster than any motorcyclist would dare! I feel the night breeze whipping across my essence-scarred face, and with the right weapon I can shoot arrows at twice the speed of sound. Can you say armor piercing bullet? Best of all, I helped take out an entire city’s worth of orcs, and I got to taste a god’s power for an eyeblink of time.”

Eric flashed a fierce smile, at that moment feeling both wild and utterly free. “Even if those bastards steel every last gold farthing I earned, I’d still count myself a winner, Morlekai. I’d still count myself ahead. All that’s left for me now is to get stronger. So strong that not even conniving goblins will have any hope of taking me down!”

Even as he whispered the words, he was running for all he was worth. Because as mighty and powerful as he dreamed of one day becoming, he knew that he still had a long way to go.

Of course he sensed nothing untoward through his Interface, infravision, or inhuman Perception. And that, he feared, was the problem.

His only consolation was that creatures that specialized probably didn’t have the ability to sprint endlessly at near 50MPH, his own cutoff number marking the point when wind resistance got so high that he really was draining himself pushing through it indefinitely, even with his stats, especially fully armored and balancing multiple javelins and a bardiche.

On the plus side, he could keep his current speed indefinitely and he seriously doubted that any rogue attempting the same would have any shot at being stealthy, assuming they weren’t reduced to using the arcane equivalent of motorbikes or hovercraft, and he seriously doubted that was the case.

But he couldn’t be certain.

The bottom line was that he didn’t know anything for sure, and it wasn’t about probabilities so much as that her dare not risk even a single miscalculation on his part, underestimating a single deadly ability his foes that might or might not be chasing him might or might not have… and he was toast.

The growing sense of dread slithering down his spine compelled him to dart through the grasslands more erratically than ever, all too easily able to imagine enemies with high powered arcane rifles at his back drawing a bead on him. A wild flight of fancy that nonetheless served to motivate him to sprint ever faster… before abruptly dodging and rolling or cartwheeling through the grasslands, just one more bit of self-induced training. And all the while, rather miraculously he thought, managing to keep his weapons perfectly aligned and in hand.

No matter how perturbed the crow that had been perched on his shoulder became.

“Alex!”

“Because you never know when the bad guy’s drawing a bead,” Eric explained to a miffed Morlekai with a smile to hide his anxiety.

Until he did.

A sixth sense he had hoped he’d never have to use was suddenly screaming at him to DUCK AND COVER!

To his credit, he wasted no time in stunned surprise or howling to the heavens at the unfairness of it all, as the air roared with the throaty hum of blasters tearing through the air, a distant tree bursting into flame.

“Fucking hell, they actually dared!” Morlekai cawed, as three reds suddenly popped up on Eric’s Dominion Interface that he had spent the last few hour’s desperate run coordinating the usage of in the corner of his eye so he wasn’t disoriented any more than any ‘leet gamer balancing map and 3-D targeting in unison.

Terror transformed to a sudden desperate hope.

He couldn’t be sure. But if he was right…

DUCK!

You have successfully dodged Mark II Deathblaze blaster fire!