The boy sobbed and fell to his knees. “Please!” Then he blinked, noting Eric’s wry half-smile as he inspected the weapon by the young slinger’s feet.

Eric met the boy’s pleading gaze. “Teach me?”

Nick swallowed, gazing at Eric for long moments. “Seriously?”

Eric nodded, opening his pouch to share some dried tusker meat with the survivors before he blinked, feeling a shiver down his spine as he felt the exquisitely luscious fruit that was anything but tusker meat.

Closing his eyes, he noted once more the absolute fortune in Greater and Lesser Spirit Fruit radiating such fiery spiritual energy within his ES Space, as well as all the mithril prizes he had claimed from his foes, and highlighting the real reason why he sure as hell wasn’t putting any goblin poison anywhere near his person. Even if he could now safely sequester items tied to life and death and military hardware in separate visualized compartments, he’d be a fool to press his luck any further than that.

Yet he couldn’t help but be humbled once more by what seemed to be, literally, an entire world’s gratitude, showcasing a tragedy so narrowly avoided that it didn’t even bear thinking about.

Instead he gave a soft chuckle. “I don’t suppose those assholes left any decent rations behind?”

This earned a snort. “Hardly, but Lana makes a mean soup.” Nick smiled, waving him inside the keep. “Come on, we’ll both have a bowl, then I’ll teach you the basics.” He then flashed an oddly apologetic smile. “But um, whatever happens, promise you won’t freak out or, like, kill me, if you don’t instantly get the hang of it?”

Eric quirked a bemused eyebrow. “You’re not exactly selling me on your weapon, but… sure. Message received. If I suck absolute ass at using it, I won’t take it out on you.”

“Good, said Tim. “But don’t get it twisted. I’m not knocking my weapon. Historically, they were actually pretty badass, with a 400 meter range with a lead bullet and a decent length sling. Better than most bows, til you got recurved compounds. But, um… it wasn’t something Romans, Greeks, or Carthaginians learned overnight.

“The difference between hitting a target with a sling and a bow is like comparing a high end reverse draw crossbow with a custom grip and zeroed in sights to using a yew bow for the first time. One you can learn to fire competently with just a bit of practice. The other takes a lot of work to get used to. And the sling? This beast is a hell of a lot harder to master than any bow.”

Eric smirked. “Try me. You might find me to be a surprisingly fast learner. But first… if you’d be so kind as to show me where our former hosts kept their powder kegs and ammo?”

The boy nodded thoughtfully. “Good choice. Even though historical sling stones were mostly almond shaped, I’ve been pretty much firing musket balls, and I gotta admit, they work pretty damn sweet, even if they were just a hair lighter than most Grecian sling stones.”

He frowned when he got to the ammo room, which was lined in stone and buried underground, the rearmost portion of the fort, farthest away from any invaders, and Eric almost hated to give the orcs credit for anything, though an increasingly nervous Nick winced in panicked apology at the old-fashioned lock securing the thick, hardwood door.

“Shit, I’m sorry, man. I should have realized those assholes would lock it tighter than fort Knox.” He gazed at a frowning Eric with increasing anxiety, as if only now registering that he was alone a dank stone passageway with a Contender covered in exotic armor and a killer’s gaze. A manNickhad tried to kill less than a day ago, and here and now would be the perfect place to murder him, without any undue drama from the girls.

Nick swallowed, looking a heartbeat away from pleading for his life, when a frowning Eric made his move.

Strength check made. You have critically struck your target!

Nick blinked when Eric grabbed the lock with his fist and twisted. He gasped when a sharp crack was followed by the tinkling of shattered metal fragments on stone, Eric casually tossing the broken metal remains behind him before brushing off his hands.

“Jeezus T.H. Christ. Just how strong are you?”

A smirking Eric didn’t bother answering, merely opened the door to behold the contents within.

Nick whistled at the storeroom full of powder and shot. “Damn, Glen wasn’t kidding when he said we still had enough ammo left to hold off any siege! Because, um, you know. The boys left were sort of guarding our rear while everyone else headed toward the Sylvan Front. But since you already took those assholes out...”

His bemused smile turned to a look of dumbstruck disbelief when every last powder keg and grapeshot canister vanished in the blink of an eye. “How the...” The kid blinked. “How?”

Eric grinned. “I take it they keep the cannon balls by the long guns?”

Nick gulped and nodded. “That, and a single powder keg and grapeshot tin. Except for the classers. The better ones have some way of actually combining it all into a proper cartridge, priming it with their skills alone!” He chuckled ruefully. “Of course, they end up tweaking their cannons so much that not even the orc classers can use them, so the gunners just brought their modded toys along with them to the front. Which pissed the chieftain off to no end when our battery of half a dozen was reduced to, well, the cannons used by the assholes you took out. Only reason why we had actual classers with any cannon at all is because the ones left were too drunk and high to join the press north.” He snorted. “Not that the chieftain complained, saying we needed at least a couple here who actually knew how to fucking shoot in order to guard our rear.”

Nick gave a rueful chuckle as they headed back up the tunnel and to the parapets. “And then you came out of the fucking blue with what… undead dinosaurs? Mastodon? Rhinos?” The boy frowned, scratching his head, now truly getting a look at Eric’s tuskers without adrenaline or terror coloring his percepiton. “Shit, are those giant sized...”

“Yup.”

Nick swallowed as Eric approached the turret sights where he had claimed his prizes when fighting for his life, just a single class evolution before. He heard the slinger’s gasp when, with just a few seconds storage, he summoned forth all three of the cannon he had so hastily claimed. He ignored the onslaught of questions Nick bombarded him with, instead carefully inspecting his prizs of war, sensing the modifications on each of those beauties, relieved to see that it wouldn’t be an issue for him to use any of them at all. He then held up his fist, freezing Nick to blessed silence as he closed his eyes and mentally constructed the dozens of containers of powder, shot, and balls in his ES space into cartridges in his mind’s eye that perfectly matched the cartridges he had claimed from the gunners themselves, for all that he sheathed all his new ones with organic casings of rawhide and bone. And then it was time for the final step, the primers for both claimed and newly made cartridges being single pieces of steel shot Eric coated with his blood. He then wrapped them up in thin strips of cloth which he infused with his essence, bloody rags over white hot balls, heat instantly contained in soul-linked temperature controlled wrappings that wouldn’t let even a tiny flicker of flame free.

Not until he reclaimed them back into his storage space with a single act of will, with the expected explosive repercussions. Half an hour of intense focus later saw him smiling up at a grinning Nick and a trembling Lana, handing him a bowl of soup, flinching at the sight of scraps of cloth by Eric’s knees, still covered in drops of his blood.

You have successfully modified 108 class-specialized cartridges.

You have successfully forged 108 hand-made cartridges.

Demolitions – Path of Mastery skill modifiers in effect! Mad Bomber modified Perception check detects no fatally flawed cannons or cartridges.

Congratulations! Demolitions is now Rank 13.

“Well shit, our boy here really is a necromancer!”

Lana snorted. “Like his legion of undead monsters didn’t give it away?”

Eric grinned. “Hardly a legion. More like a very small company. But I think it will be getting bigger real soon.”

The girl nodded, gently holding her belly. “The way they tore through the orc regulars… both the scariest and most glorious thing I ever saw in my life. What level are they?”

Eric frowned, closing his eyes. Surprised by some of the numbers. “Mostly on the far side of level 40.”

The girl stared at him for long moments. “Just how powerful are you?”

Eric grinned, deciding the moment was too good to pass up as he smacked his palm against the closest long gun. “Powerful enough to do this,” he said, making it disappear once more in the blink of an eye.

More pleased than he should have been when the couple’s eyes widened in unison, slack-jawed in disbelief.

“No fucking way!” Nick shook his head. “I mean, I know I saw you summon it, but I thought maybe I had imagined it, or it was hidden in shadow all along, or something? Because what you’re doing is impossible!”

“That thing weighs over 6000 pounds!” Lana squealed. “The mount alone weighs half a ton! How?”

Eric grinned, repeating the feat 2 more times, before methodically claiming every cask of black powder, barrel of shot, or stacked collection of balls he could find, taking particular pleasure in claiming for himself another 36 ready-made copper sheathed cartridges, pleased to see his own variants near perfectly matched his most recent prizes. Save, of course, for a casing of rigid rawhide and bone.

“Well shit if that isn’t the perfect necromancer ammo,” whispered Billy, when Eric pulled out two to compare before flipping it all back to his ES Space. “But… shit… how?”

Eric winked. “You’d be surprised at just how useful robbing banks is for stretching your potential in all sorts of exotic ways.”

Billy’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He turned to his girl who adamantly shook her head.

“No, Billy. We are not, I repeat, not getting into any fucking bullshit bank robbing! I don’t care if you think half the cities have been abandoned and it’s ‘free pickings.’ Probably half the population is thinking the same thing, and they’re all killing each other for first dibs at deposit boxes.”

She put her hands on her hips, glaring at the sheepishly shrugging boy before him.

“You promised me, Billy! If we got out of here alive, it’s straight and narrow all the way. We head back to Freetown, and if you can’t find an adventuring company you trust not to get you killed, you just sell your slings at market after showing off your skills. Like we agreed.”

“Yes, dear,” he murmured.

Eric grinned. “Definitely a plan, though you might want to stick around here.” He winked. “I hear there are now no less than twelve delves with the wealth perk, and Blue Faction is planning some major infrastructure projects to make this place a paradise that will absolutely blow Freetown away.”

Nick blinked. “Did you say twelve dungeons with the wealth perk?”

“And unlimited levels, from what I hear,” Eric said with a smile.

Lana froze, eyes widening with fear. “Oh no. If you can’t fully map them, learn their layout… what did Custov say before he left?”

Nick sighed. “That the only safe dungeons were mappable dungeons. The portals to the one endless cavern near Freetown had very little in the way of resources beyond animal parts, and was plagued by ambush predators you had to be damned careful of.”

Eric shrugged. “Somehow, I don’t think these will be the same. More like vast, wild, and wonderful, with all sorts of treasures, hidden secrets, and troves of exotic knowledge and precious resources waiting for the right adventurer to find them. Each delve is comprised of endless levels that will fully reset within days, even if the exotic treasures will randomize, and each level is the the size of this very territory.”

Nick blinked. “How is that even possible? How do they not overlap?”

Eric smirked. “Clearly we’re talking about overlapping 4-D pocket dimensions.”

Lana’s gaze hardened, “And how the hell do you know all this?”

Eric held the girl’s gaze for long moments. She flinched and looked away.

“Because that’s how I willed them to be.”

“You… you made it?”

“Pretty much.”

“So, what, you’re like a god? You can shape reality to your will?”

Eric solemnly shook his head. “Not a god. A Contender.”

She gazed at him for long moments. “Fuck.”

Nick was looking at him with something close to awe. Then his eyes widened with delight. “So, if you shape the dungeons… you know where everything is! How to defeat all the critters inside and get maximum profit! Am I right?”

Eric flashed a bitter smile, forced to look a truth he had really been trying to avoid right in the face. “I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work that way.

Nick furrowed his brow. “Wait, what do you mean? I mean you made them, right? They’re basically yours, so you should be able to do what you want with them.”

Eric smirked. “Can you climb the ladder others use to ascend?”

This earned a snort. “Of course. Just put it on the ground and climb right up?”

“What if there is no ground?”

“Come again?”

Eric smiled sadly. “What if you’re the foundation upon which it all rests?”

Lana’s eyes widened. “Shit, you’re saying… you’re saying it all depends on you? Jeez, and you say you're not a…” Her look of awe turned to a flash of concern. “No offense, hero… but you’re playing a very dangerous game. What happens if you well, um…”

Eric smirked. “Kick the bucket while a thousand adventurers are plumbing the depths of my delves?”

She winced, flashing a sheepish smile. “Well yeah, actually. Just that.” She squeezed Nick’s hand as she said it. “Because if the father of my child is actually thinking of risking his life in your dungeons, I'd like to know that they won't, well, disappear in a heartbeat.”

Eric flashed a sad smile. “They won’t fade any more than the planet supporting the string of endless delves in ways I can’t even begin to describe. They’ll last long after I’m dust in the wind. It’s just that I know that, to me, trying to enter any of the portals would affect me no more than stepping through any other doorway. I’ll just walk out the other side. Because a dream made flesh for all the world to enjoy and prosper from is still, for me, a dream.”

Lana’s eyes were filled with sudden sympathy. “After you went to so much effort to shape an entire realm, you can’t even enjoy the wondrous dream you’d share with the world? That sounds kind of um… sad. Noble, but sad.”

Eric forced a chuckle. “Don’t feel too bad for me. I am, after all, entitled to a 20% cut of whatever loot adventurers bring back to the surface.”

Lana and Nick both frowned at that, before they shared a hard smile. “Now it makes sense,” she said, Nick nodding.

Eric nodded. “Damn right. And a 20% cut of a Wealthy tier dungeon that has a payout a hell of a lot higher than you’ll find in dead-broke Freetown delves is still a goldmine of wealth and opportunity for all. Best of all, the way I’m setting it up with Blue Corp, the ones who will do the loot sorting will split it into 5 piles. You get to choose the 4 piles you keep, so the sorters have every reason in the world to sort it honestly. Of course, it will probably just be easier to have them buy off whatever you hall out, and one of these days we’ll get a credit system going that’s almost as smooth as modern finance. Best of all, won’t require a single goddamned loan or contract signed off by any penny pinching loan-sharking goblins.”

Nick whistled. “When you put it that way… that sounds more than fair.”

Eric grinned. “I’d certainly like to think so! I’m honestly hoping to create something of an adventuring mecca here, and I won’t do that by fucking people over.” He flashed a hopeful smile. “Honestly, I get the feeling any number of adventuring crews will be pretty damn eager to take advantage of wealthy tier dungeons and the high-end accommodations that will soon be waiting for them.” Eric winked. “So if you two and your friends wanted to wait around, I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you. You might find yourself in an adventuring party before you know it, or the owners of a nice flat with a beautiful back yard and a garden of your own, living right outside a nice tree-lined boulevard with all the adventurer and boutique shops you could want nearby, and maybe even a European style market just a few blocks away.”

The pair of teens were looking at him with desperate hope warring with jaded cynicism, as if not even daring to hope for such a miracle.

“How the hell could you even afford… there’s nothing in the world I’d want more than for my baby to grow up in a storybook neighborhood after our world went to hell. But how the hell could you even get the capital together to build an entire city from nothing?” queried an awed-looking Lana.

“It’s all about robbing the right banks, I guess.” Eric quipped with a smile “So, you guys are more than welcome to stay here at this fort, which might just turn into temporary accommodations to any adventurers, workers, or whoever else wants to begin their adventuring life here from the ground up.”

Eric frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe we could make this our first hotel, and you two could be the chef and manager?”

Lana exchanged a look with her man. “Is he serious?”

“I think he is, sweetheart.”

Eric grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. I just sent a message to my partners. Now enough bullshit. Teach me how to use a fucking sing and help me kill time till dusk, Billy.”

Lana laughed. “Okay, now I know you’re pulling our legs. Internet is dead, buddy.”

Eric winked. “Not if you have access to a Dominion Interface.”

Nick grinned, giving Eric a quick salute. “Righto, boss. Are you serious? Then yes. Absolutely yes. I’d love to play hotel manager with my wife.”

Lana, who couldn’t have been any older than Nick, blushed furiously at that declaration but didn’t hesitate to clasp his hand and hold him close.

“You’re damn right I’m your wife, and don’t you ever forget it. Now go teach our hero how to use a sling.”

Nick nodded then kissed Lana’s cheek. “Absolutely. But let’s go outside. Last thing we need are lead stones caving in anyone’s head.”