I stood in Cindy’s Automotive’s empty garage, admiring everything we’d accomplished. Every car—except the forest-green Ford Explorer—had been Pulled into the street, Crushed, and stacked on top of each other to form a crude wall. The lifts had been lowered manually, with Calvin mashing on the controls while Tori and I slowly grappled them down. And the sound system that had once blasted Led Zeppelin and ACDC was once again working—this time hooked up to my old MP3 player.

  Right now, it was playing Journey. I’d rolled my eyes, but Tori insisted. Calvin could barely hold back a smirk as Steve Perry sang about strangers up and down the boulevard.

  I didn’t care that it had taken two days of hard work to get the place up and running, or that it wasn’t in a safe zone. That was what the walls were for. And I didn’t care that the sound system took Charge to run. I was just happy to have music going again.

  I pulled the [Voltsmith’s Laboratory] Token out of my inventory.

  [Voltsmith’s Laboratory] Token requires [Three] slots to install.

  Available Slots: Three

  Total Slots: Four

  Use [Voltsmith’s Laboratory Token? Yes/No

  I selected ‘Yes.’

  Once used, this item will disappear, and the [Voltsmith’s Laboratory (Rank One)] will be installed. Please confirm choice: Yes/No

  I selected ‘Yes’ a second time.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then the token slowly dissolved much like a monster corpse, turning to ash in my hand before even the ash vanished. The concrete floor didn’t change. Neither did one of the lifts, the Explorer, or the sound system. But plenty else did.

  “That’s so Steampunk-looking,” Tori said.

  I had no idea what she meant, but the change was almost instantaneous. Where there’d been nothing but empty wall, a rack full of tools stood—hammers, drills, and stuff I’d never seen before. A half-dozen empty hooks hung there with outlines and labels: ‘Imbuing Rod,’ ‘Tuning Rod,’ ‘Stabilization Vice,’ and so on.

  The rest of the shop felt like a mix between a woodshop and my little corner of Cindy’s Automotive. Steel mesh bins lines one wall—I recognized those from Cindy’s store-room. The place had more storage than my inventory, and way more than the tower room I’d been using as a workshop. The other walls were empty, and I could only assume they’d fill in with more tools and machines as time went on. Either that, or I’d need to build my own.

  But most importantly was the oiled steel workbench in the center of the garage.

  It was massive. Gears and pulleys hung above it, and wires ran up its legs. I saw a dozen emitters lining its edges, and for a second, I worried I’d need to power the whole place myself.

  I inspected it with the System.

  Voltsmith’s Laboratory (Rank One): This laboratory allows the aspiring Voltsmith access to their Rank One Trial, and to Rank One materials. It contains enough Charge to run any additional stations, in addition to maintaining constant power to the workbench. Any attempt to drain Charge from this building will cause the Laboratory to fail.

  That was, in many ways, a relief. At least I wouldn’t have to power it myself. I was curious about the fourth slot in Cindy’s Garage, but for now, I didn’t have anything to add to it anyway, and as I inspected the workbench more closely, that curiosity vanished.

  Lit up in golden-orange light, in perfect detail, was the Voltsmith’s Grasp.

  We’d pushed the other mechanics’ toolboxes out into the lobby, next to a coffee machine that didn’t work and a wall of rims whose chrome was only somewhat dulled by the dust that had settled over them. I led Tori and Calvin out through the main door—the only one not blocked by wrecked cars—and waved goodbye.

  “We’ll check in on you every so often,” Calvin said. “Maybe don’t sleep out here, though. This ain’t a safe zone.”

  I nodded. “Come get me if anything’s threatening to dungeon break, or if you need me to help solve a problem. You stay safe, Calvin. And as for you, Tori, listen to your mom—stepmom. Go do some Tier Ones with Carol and Zane. But don’t get in over your head. They’re not Bobby and me.”

  She rolled her eyes, but agreed. As the glass door swung shut, I sighed in relief. I hadn’t been lying to Calvin—if he needed me, I’d be there—but right now, the Rank One Trial was the most pressing thing. I felt pretty good about handling any Tier Two Dungeons, but the Tier Three was another story; I’d need to be able to level past fifty if I wanted a chance at that. That meant buckling down and getting to work—and I had no idea how long I’d be working at this.

  I also needed Tori to reach Level Fifty and pass her own Trial. Bobby was out finding any dungeon he could to get his last level and start his, but I wasn’t confident the two of us could handle a Level Seventy or higher boss by ourselves. We needed Tori—and the best way for her to catch up was to get out there and do some dungeons.

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  The Charge-wire model of the Voltsmith’s Grasp glowed on the workbench. I ignored it for now. Instead, I put my tools on their hangars and emptied my inventory into the bins scattered through the garage. My MP3 player switched from Journey to The Who as I finished getting organized in my Voltsmith’s Laboratory. Then it was time to get to work.

  The first step was, fortunately, all done in Charge-wire. I stripped the model of the Voltsmith’s Grasp down, removing pieces of scrap armor and setting aside both the railgun and the remnants of the three Taser launchers. It took only a few minutes before the model was nothing but wires, a small charge battery, and the refiner I’d ripped out of the Tuning Rod. It still looked like a gauntlet, but if I actually built it and tried to use it, I’d probably shock myself with my own Charge.

  Still, it was, at its core, the Rank Zero, unupgraded Voltsmith’s Grasp I’d cobbled together after the Twilight Menagerie—just without any bells and whistles.

  That was where I hit my first problem.

  The Rank One Trial’s goal was pretty clear: upgrade the Voltsmith’s Grasp to Rank One. What it didn’t explain at all was how, or even what constituted a reasonable upgrade. I stood and pondered the wire frame. This was going to be a lot less like fixing the Ford Explorer or solving problems for Cindy and a lot more like my high school project, the station wagon I’d rebuilt in Dad’s barn. There weren’t clear rules, and the ‘client’—the System—wouldn’t say what it wanted.

  When I’d started the station wagon, Dad had laid down some rules. The first was that the engine had to remain stock. I couldn’t go tracking down a drag racing engine and boosting its power. The second was that the first upgrades I made had to be to the brakes and steering. And the third was that until everything else worked, the stereo stayed unplugged.

  The second rule made sense, but as I looked at the model of the Voltsmith’s Grasp, I knew I’d be breaking the first, and probably the third.

  The Who transitioned to ACDC.

  Definitely the third.

  I opened up the pile of boxes I’d received. From the Rank One Enhancement box, I received the following:

  Tuning Rod

  Imbuing Rod

  Channel-Punch

  The Tuning and Imbuing Rods were items I’d seen before. I hung them on the tool rack; they’d be useful soon, but before that, I wanted to get a good look at the Channel-Punch. It was simple enough—an oversized hole punch with a pair of insulated grips. I’d used similar to punch through aluminum when rewiring vehicles, but I had a feeling that rewiring Charge would be a little different. I hung it up and turned my attention to the Rank Two supply boxes.

  Charge Battery (Large)

  Emitter (2)

  Refiner (2)

  Diamond Edge

  Mana Coil (Medium)

  Medium Lens Array

  I’d need the Large Charge Battery right away; I set that on the table. After some hesitation, the Medium Mana Coil joined it. The Emitters and Refiners went into the bins, and so did the Diamond Edge—a razor-sharp slab of what looked like glass about as big as my pinkie finger.

  The Lens Array was a mystery to me. I’d seen a similar one in the guts of an Imbuing Rod, but I didn’t know what it did, and I was hesitant to test out the Medium array, but I needed to know what they did.

  Fortunately, I had the small one.

  I pulled it out of its bin, aiming it toward the blank wall between the two massive garage doors. The only thing over there was the Ford Explorer. It was already out of commission, and if I did something to it, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Then I poured a single point of Charge into the Small Lens Array.

  The yellow-orange light started quickly, hitting the first of the dozen tiny lenses and focusing into a beam of slightly darker energy. It bounced between them, the yellow slowly filtering out of it even as it slowed down to a crawl. Two seconds passed. Three. Four. The Charge’s color looked less like the bright orange I was used to and more like the light the Chthonic Abysslord’s Stalks had case down in the depths.

  For almost a second, the red color hung between two lenses the size of my thumbnail. Then it seemed to bounce back through the same maze of lenses, yellow rushing back into the red as it picked up speed.

  I still didn’t know exactly what the Lens Arrays did, but I had a feeling. More testing was needed; I grabbed a Small Charge Battery and a Refiner. The battery connected to the ‘top’ of the Lens Array, and the Refiner to the point where the Charge was at its bloodiest, deepest red—just before it reversed course.

  My hope was that it’d result in a more efficient Refining process, and reduce the cost of the Voltsmith’s Grasp’s attacks. Right now, they were almost prohibitive.

  It didn’t work. Something about the Refiner and Lens Array didn’t want to cooperate.

  But that was okay. I had time, and my gut said I was on the right track. I just needed to keep experimenting, and something would click.

  Metallica’s One ended, and something by the Beatles started up.

  The Beatles gave way to Motley Crue, and Motley Crue to Queen. Queen turned into Dire Straits, and Dire Straits to Fleetwood Mac.

  And the sun set outside of Cindy’s Garage.

  The bay’s lights hummed louder than I remembered; it had to be the Voltsmith’s Laboratory’s Charge, rather than the electricity I was used to.

  I’d been working on the Voltsmith’s Charge all day. This was my fourth—no, fifth—time resetting the model and stripping it down to its core. And it just. Wouldn’t. Work.

  I was on the right track. I knew I was. If Cindy had walked into the room and kicked my boot, I’d have argued. Another half-hour, and I’d have the Lens Array figured out. It was something about power input and output, and the speed the Charge moved through the array. I could adjust it by simply flicking the lenses in and out of line. Simple, but when it came to plugging in the Refiner and strapping the whole thing into the Voltsmith’s Grasp, almost impossible.

  I’d have fought Cindy tooth and nail for that half hour, because that was all I needed.

  But it wasn’t Cindy kicking my boot. It was Calvin. And he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “Your ass needs sleep, Hal. So does your brain. You’re gonna make some piss-stupid mistakes if you keep it up, and you’ll end up breaking something you need.”

  He was right, and I knew it—I knew it even more than I knew that I only needed thirty more minutes.

  “Gimme five to clean up, then,” I said, staring at the old man. He didn’t look any more put-together than the day I met him, but something about him felt more authoritative. More…in control.

  No matter what, he was right.

  I needed to get back to Museumtown and crash in my room over the Field Museum steps. I’d beat the Lens Array problem tomorrow and move on to the next obstacle the Trial threw at me.

  Then I’d get to do it again. And again.

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