Congratulations! You are the third Northeast Sector Contender to ascend past 200 Vitality since System Incorporation! (System titles and boons have already been claimed!)

Congratulations! You are the fifth Northeast Sector Contender to ascend past 200 Quickness since System Incorporation! (System title and boons have already been claimed!)

“You what?”

Eric chuckled softly, putting aside the System messages he’d have to give some serious thought to later, sensing his sister’s awed disbelief with exquisite clarity, communicating as they now were, mind to mind. “I took out the assholes at Silvergrove.”

“So wait, are you actually going to claim… no, that’s not your path. Eric, you can’t give it to Blue. Please, it’s very important to Mother. Not that it matters if we can’t survive the shitstorm coming our way in less than two hour’s time, but you can’t surrender it to us directly, can you?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not claiming it, and yeah, my gut tells me that if I were to just give it to you, the powers that be would give me the hairy eyeball and wonder just how ‘free’ an agent I am.”

Elonia snorted. “Yeah. If my twin brother’s sending territories my way, it does sort of look like we’re just as connected as we are, and that you’re working for me.”

Eric grinned. “And we all know that I’m strictly a free agent in pretty much everything.”

“Of course you are!” she said too brightly, earning a chuckle from her brother. “But seriously, how do we handle… whatever it is that you want to do?”

“Simple. I’ve cleared this territory entirely. No more reds. Once I leave, the territory will basically be up for grabs. If the shaman assholes and their stone throwing flunkies head back this way, that buys us time. But in case they don’t… best you have one of your agents enter the territory so they can claim it in your name.” Eric flashed a fierce smile. “With an in-your-face conquest right behind them, I can’t see how the shamans will be able to resist sending at least a few people back to reclaim what was so recently theirs. And with over seventy revenants manning the keep, they’ll actually have to expend a little bit of effort to take the keep and reclaim the territory for themselves. Especially if you’re smart and have your agent head right to the southernmost edge of the territory, where I’ll be attacking the final red I see on my interface in this area, making it a clean fucking sweep.”

He grinned at Elonia’s evil chuckle. “Wonderful, brother. I’ll send a very small, very fast squad to gallop full speed for the border, making a very wide loop around the shaman quartet, their two thousand troops and thankfully slowly plodding stone giants. My elites should be in perfect position to claim any territories that miraculously pop up as abandoned on our Dominion Interfaces before the hour’s up.”

Her excited voice turned anxious through their spiritual link. “Eric… if this doesn’t work...”

“It will work!” Eric snapped, before calming his mental voice, and forcing a smile. “It will work. Trust me. And even if it doesn’t… I’ve got your back. I promise you that, sis.”

He sensed so clearly the awful mix of anxiety and desperate hope filling his sister’s heart, along with with the constant pain she struggled to keep tightly contained, so it wouldn’t effect her performance. Not when she needed absolute laser focus. Especially not in the middle of what he sensed was an exquisitely complex ritual involving a degree of intricacy and mastery a brute force intuitive like him didn’t have a chance in hell of grasping, let alone ever pulling off. Not without years and years of serious disciplined work.

“Shit, Elonia. You’re busy. Seriously busy, and I don’t dare interrupt this...”

“It’s okay,” she quickly assured. “This is just the first ring. The pressure’s only mounting now. In about two minutes, after I shout my order, that’s when it gets real serious. That’s when I close the gap in the circle, block out the shaman’s curses… and then I’m on a serious, serious timer.”

Eric felt a sudden chill with those words. “How serious?”

Her laughter was brittle. “Serious enough you’d best not interrupt me again, brother dearest. Not if I’m going to keep my soul intact and survive the storm to come.”

Eric winced. “Shit.”

“Hardly. You did more for me than you can imagine, taking out those assassins. Let’s just say, it’s finally time for my star to finally shine. Even if it kills me.”

“Let’s fucking hope not.”

“You and me both,” she said, her sudden vulnerability breaking his heart. “Anyway, Lord Drevyn and Annika both have Champion status and access to the Dominion Interface. Your suggestion is solid. The whole squad will race for the border between Silvergrove and Dairyland.”

Eric blinked. “Wait, the territory I’m heading to next is… shit, it’s called Dairyland?”

He sensed his sister’s smirk. “Sure is. I’m sure you’ll figure out why once you get there. Good luck, bro. And for fuck’s sake, don’t get killed! I gotta go and start my high level soul chant now, and get it done before the shamans of doom can get here and toast my ass. Elonia out.”

“Love you, sis,” he thought as he broke the link, took a deep breath, and turned his gaze south.

He turned around to bark a series of commands to the revenants who would be guarding the fort that had somehow evolved, or perhaps had always been a magnificent confectionery factory glorious enough to do even the legendary Wonka proud, before leaping clean off the battlements, laughing for sheer mad delight when he landed upon the soft loamy ground with the ease of a cat coiling after a graceful pounce. The heady joy he felt in his own physical prowess was almost enough to distract himself from the awful pressure he felt to move faster, ever faster, praying he would make it in time, desperate to rescue the people he cared about before it was too late.

Because the obstacles before him were pretty damn close to overwhelming.

But his ability to level up, to ascend, to blossom in ways his foes could never imagine was a brilliant light of hope that would see him through his darkest days. A priceless gift he was determined to forever feel grateful for, even if at the moment it meant nothing more than crossing yet another border after too long feeling the tension building up in his gut, no matter how lush and strikingly beautiful the countless groves he passed, so many glistening with exotic fruit radiating so much arcane potency it brought tears to his eyes, before he finally achieved his objective.

With a whoop and a holler, he raced across yet another territorial boarder as his Tactical Interface map simultaneously blared messages regarding territories left up for grabs and yet another border he had violated in what could only be interpreted as an act of war.

WARNING you have left Silvergrove Province UNCLAIMED! Any Contender is now free to claim Silvergrove Province under their Faction’s Banner!

You have entered Dairyland Province! You are currently at war with all factions claiming this Province! You are currently engaged in VENDETTA against the controlling factions of this province!

You have just made a Declaration of Intent! All factions claiming this province have been informed of your intent to claim it for yourself! All factions now know that you will give no quarter! You intend to butcher and kill anyone and everyone who dares to get in your way!

“Vendetta, motherfuckers! Damn right it’s war!” Eric hooted, his pace slowing down just the tiniest bit as he took in what truly was a grand, picturesque view of lush green grasslands across rolling hills, dotted with clear blue lakes and herds of goats, sheep, and cows, as far as his eye could see.

Tension warred with exhilaration as he raced across windswept grasslands at speeds he would have never dared driving on even the flattest stretches of highway, not that long ago... the scents of bluebell blossoms, freshly chewed grass, and dung heavy in the air.

Yet no matter how he tried to keep his focus on just enjoying the moment, one springing leap at a time, he couldn’t help but brood over his conversation with Elonia, sensing with renewed clarity the tension just beneath her snarky quips, striving so hard to put a brave face on just how bad things really were, as she had for years. Always protecting her once-fragile brother from the uglier realities of their world.

A facade she had continued until it had nearly been too late, and it had almost cost his sister absolutely everything. Rescued from addiction and slavery only when Eric had finally torn free a puppy’s gentle visage and embraced the essence of who he was. What he was. What his mother had always known him to be.

A killer.

A predator who would show his prey no mercy.

Not when there was a debt to be paid.

A debt in crimson tears spilled by too many innocents at the hands of monsters beyond count.

A debt he would collect in full.

“Mortoch! Open the gate, you fool! Food’s arrived!”

A handful of yawning gate guards laughed at the sight of wandering cows ambling right outside the gate to the massive sprawling building that, no matter its original function, now served as barracks to countless numbers of orcs.

Orcs that were apparently always hungry, and fatter even than most berserkers, let alone conscripts, blessed as they were with a steady supply of meat, happily devouring milking cows at a prodigious and perhaps chilling rate, all the while laughing at those cows too stupid to realize that there were predators in their midst, and the sanctuary they returned so blithely to for milking would, in fact, serve as their final resting place.

The orc known as Mortoch flashed a yellow-tusked grin as he opened the gate, waving a half dozen confused looking cows through before slamming it shut and laughing to the shorter greener orc slouched against the wall just a few feet away. “Stupid cows. Don’t even know they’re dinner! Hardly any brain between their skulls!” He hooted happily, his friend giving a sleepy nod, right before his body exploded in a shower of crimson gore and white hot flame.

A stunned Mortoch slowly levered himself back to his feet before toppling over, offhandedly wiping pieces of his partner’s brain off of his cast iron hauberk as he gazed in confused disbelief at the Roundear smiling a bit too widely at him with brilliant blue eyes promising death that just drew you right in.

“Stupid cows indeed,” said the obvious adventurer.

Mortoch’s confusion turned to dismay when the being moved so fast he couldn’t even register the movement, just feeling the burst of air pressing against him when suddenly the man was right before him, and a whimpering Mortoch realized that he saw not one trace of mirth or amusement in those ice-cold jeweled eyes, no matter how wide the smile of the monster in human form.

“Shoot me.”

The orc blinked. “What? Why are you here? Did you come to hire on to the Bloodfang clan?” Mortoch asked, unable to hide the desperate hope in his voice.

The young man slowly shook his head.

“Nope. I came to purge you all, as a matter of fact. It’s a vendetta, you see. But don’t tell anyone,” he said with a too wide smile and a wink. “Tell you the truth, I’ve been dodging an awful lot of musket fire because it’s prudent and damn good reflex practice. But at this point, with my Vitality where it presently is at, and a Physical Resistance of 40, is that even necessary? When I know that just a single point does a hell of a lot to mitigate a punch into a love tap? I’d like to find out. So shoot me,” he said, spreading his arms wide and revealing a naked chest that was utterly hairless, even if absurdly well proportioned. For a human, anyway.

“Tell you what. If you actually manage to break my skin? I’ll let you go without killing you like I did your friend.”

Mortoch spent several confused moments staring at the absurdly handsome elf? Man? Smiling at him with his arms wide, before finally snorting, taking careful aim, and firing a musket ball that hit right between the obnoxious fool’s eyes.

A look of clueless docility rapidly twisted into the cunning gaze Mortoch only wore, it seemed, when there was no one around who could threaten his glorious life of sloth. And though he had seemed loath to reveal it even now, there were always exceptions, such as when overconfident young adventurers actually thought a few levels made them a god.

Mortoch couldn’t help chortling softly, muttering words to that very effect as he waved away the white cloud of gunsmoke and went to collect what would no doubt be some very succulent meat to stuff a belly already stuffed with beef.

Not that he couldn’t always make room for elf.

Words he muttered to himself with a bemused smile before stopping cold, letting out a single startled squeal, his body freezing before the sight of glaring green eyes and rich red lips that had twisted into a snarl that made his blood run cold.

With awful deliberate slowness, the youth before him peeled off the smear of lead that was the musket ball on his forehead. And much to Mortoch’s horrified dismay, there was no shattered skull, no crippling cranial indentation. Only the faintest of red marks, healing before the orc’s ever-widening gaze.

“What are you, a fucking idiot? I meant take a shot at my torso. Clearly! Did you really think you could crack the thickest, strongest bone in my body?” The elf angrily shook his head. “Center body mass, dickwad. Now try again!” the adventurer snapped, picking up and tossing the dead orc’s gun so fast that Mortoch actually dropped the barrel that had smacked into his numb hands, his supposed target moving so fast that it was almost impossible to track movements.

The orc swallowed, this time forcing himself to speak. “Sure, custos. I’ll shoot you. But you sure you don’t want to join the clan? Fucker as tough as you could make a shit ton of silver, fighting by our side. Because we’re about to make history, wiping out our sworn foes in record time!” He forced a smile. “You see all the prime beef all around us? They grew cows here, so you can eat your fill until it all runs out, and that won’t be for a damn long time!”

The orc’s voice petered out as Eric continued pinning him with his ice-cold stare. “Or, you could shut the hell up and pull the trigger. Because I’m on a time crunch, and you can only hope you’ll actually draw blood this time. Now fucking fire!”

The orc visibly flinched, now, for the first time looking genuinely frightened as he forced trembling limbs to line up from what was, after all, a point blank shot at less than ten feet. It would be almost impossible for him to miss, and he nearly did, so badly were his hands shaking. But much to his relief, and Eric’s grim satisfaction, the bullet hit exactly where the creature had aimed, slamming into Eric’s belly with the audible smack of metal against flesh.

The orc took a deep ragged breath as he made out the outline of the elf through the smoke, slowly peeling off the flattened lead ball and flashing a dark smile. “Stings about as much as Rica’s slap did, once upon a time. In other words… Yeah. As long as I duck and weave my head and you idiots fail the -10 penalty eyeball shot, you’re basically an endless swarm of burned out customer service reps eager to get your smacks off before I fire you.”

“Fire me?”

Eric’s grin widened. “By that, I mean kill you, of course.”

The orc’s eyes bulged when the young adventurer seemed to disappear, desperately raising his hands and stepping back. “Wait, wait! I can tell you everything about the other soldiers. Just let me leave with one of the cows! I even know the captain’s greatest weakness! He—“

Words instantly cut off when the orc’s ribcage exploded, showering several startled cows in a splatter of bone and blood, the orc’s final confused moments being the distant sounds of roars and shrieks and only a few scattered musket shots before his eyes closed for the final time.

But not before suffering the final indignity of hot steaming cow shit splattering over a mouth desperately gasping for air that just wouldn’t come.