[Five hundred sixty-four] Tier Three Dungeons were defeated during Phase One of Integration—a new record for a Death World! [Earth’s] surviving population, [1.8 billion], has successfully moved on to Phase Two.

  Tori knew exactly where Jessica would be.

  Even after the battle, there were still wounded in Museumtown, and her stepmom had been working herself to the bone trying to heal them. The Healer couldn’t do it alone, though; she had a small army of assistants writing down injuries, building lists, and figuring out who she needed to see next.

  Tori wasn’t on that list.

  Tori didn’t care. Jessica was her stepmom, and no Level Twenty with a single dungeon under his belt was going to tell her no. And in any case, it wasn’t like Jessica could hide.

  She could track her down by the smell of blood, and the screaming and moaning. And even if she couldn’t have, Jessica hadn’t left the half-assed clinic under her trailer since the battle ended and she’d healed those who absolutely couldn’t be moved.

  “You can’t—“

  Tori cut the boy off with a raised hand. “Can’t is not a word to use with princesses!”

  “What?”

  Before he could stop her, Tori was past the very confused assistant Healer and inside the slaughterhouse.

  It reeked of blood and sweat. The only place that was clean was the table in the center—although a dozen other assistants were busy trying to get the blood off the stone below it or cleaning up rags. There was so much happening in the small area that it took Tori a second to realize what was missing.

  There were no patients.

  And there was no Jessica.

  “Where is she?” Tori snapped.

  One of the assistants pointed up, while another raised a blood-covered finger over her lips. Tori nodded silently and turned, climbing the ladder even as the still-sputtering boy outside turned to follow her like a lost and confused puppy. She didn’t have time for that.

  She pushed the hanging cloth door open and stepped inside Jessica’s home. The woman was asleep, half in her sleeping bag. At least she’d cleaned up a little and changed out of her blood-soaked clothes. That was something. The trailer was dark, and shockingly, it was almost silent. Tori flushed at how loud she’d been downstairs just a minute ago.

  Jessica rolled over. Her eyes opened. “Hi, Tori.”

  “Hi, Jessica.” Tori took a deep breath. She’d made up her mind, but now that she was here, her heart was beating a thousand times a second, and she couldn’t remember the words she wanted to say. Instead, she fidgeted with her hair and shifted her weight back and forth.

  Jessica noticed. She sighed. “Tori, I haven’t slept in days, and I’ve been working my Body and Mana to their limits and well past them. I think I know what you’re here to say. It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

  Tori swallowed. “Okay. Goodnight, Mom.”

  “Goodnight, Tori. I love you.”

  The words wouldn’t come. Hot tears did, but not the words. It took her almost a minute, and she wasn’t sure if Jessica—if Mom—was still awake when she finally said, “Love you, Mom,” and fled back down the ladder.

  Hal had been right, though. As relief at having said it pushed past her embarrassment at saying it to begin with, she did feel better about things.

  [Five hundred sixty-four] Tier Three Dungeons were defeated during Phase One of Integration—a new record for a Death World! [Earth’s] surviving population, [1.8 billion], has successfully moved on to Phase Two.

  Bobby Richards whistled as he walked through the maze of concrete-and-steel canyons that had, three weeks ago, been Chicago’s downtown. He’d gotten everything he needed and most of what he wanted from Phase One, and he had the spring in his step to prove it.

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  Bobby Richards: Level 55

  Class: Resonator

  The Museumtown people almost certainly knew what he was all about at this point, but that hardly mattered, did it? And against that knowledge, he’d put them in his debt. Even further in his debt, that was. Hal had committed to leveling with him and clearing dungeons, and so far, he’d only followed through once.

  Against Museumtown suspecting him of playing the long game, he’d accomplished several of his goals:

  First, position himself to learn about the Consortium. He had his suspicions about them, and his trip through the Field of Warriors had only heightened them. But he’d felt the magic resonance picking up just before Tori and Hal appeared on the battlefield. That powerful of a spell could only have come from a supremely powerful being, and he knew Hal would tell him about it.

  Second, avoid the Tier Three Dungeon. That place was an obvious trap, and Bobby Richards was many things, but stupid wasn’t on the list. Hal and Tori? Those two were heroes. Bobby Richards was a survivor.

  And third, pull at least two of the Chicago settlements through Phase One with their safe zones intact. Museumtown probably knew what he was up to. The small one in Andersonville definitely didn’t, though, and he was fifty/fifty on whether the one on the west side, past the skyscrapers, did. It didn’t matter. He’d gotten three. That had to be higher than average for a region.

  He’d also saved Museumtown, which he hadn’t been sure could be done.

  Bobby Richards was going to drag as many people through the apocalypse as he could, whether he tricked them into making it or hauled them, kicking and screaming, into the future. And he was off to a good start.

  So, all in all, it was a fine day in Chicago, and Bobby Richards had all the reason in the world to whistle while he walked.

  [Five hundred sixty-four] Tier Three Dungeons were defeated during Phase One of Integration—a new record for a Death World! [Earth’s] surviving population, [1.8 billion], has successfully moved on to Phase Two.

  The text scrolled across Voril’s System interface, just like it did every sentient being on the surface of Earth. She ignored it, as she had for three hundred thirty-seven Integrations. The Consortium’s message never changed, and she had it memorized. Instead, she looked out over the region of Earth she was assigned to.

  Voril’s meditation tank hovered well above the primitive city the Consortium had assigned her to. Its walls were clear as glass, and from the outside, it was virtually undetectable to anything below three hundred Awareness, but it allowed her to see everything. She sat cross-legged, her thin limbs perfectly suspended off the ground and hanging in the air around her by her own spell. Every muscle was perfectly positioned, every vein and channel completely open for optimal flow.

  The urban sprawl of Chicago and its suburbs lay below her from Gary to Evanston. The vines the Consortium had used to kill all technology newer than five hundred years old covered the buildings, and though the locals couldn’t see it, the whole city glimmered with the forcefields the Consortium had blocked the buildings off with. Only the dungeons and a few preselected structures were untouched.

  A single beam of emerald green light shot up from the Seared Wilds Tower. All around her, other Tier Three Dungeons in other regions lit up in red and green—and in two cases, a blinking blue. She winced. Those other Consortium Representatives in charge of those regions would have some explaining to do.

  The Chicago Metropolitan Area was clear, though, and its half-dozen claimed safe zones were on their way to Phase Two.

  Thank the gods.

  Voril had been doing this for longer than the city below her had existed. Her job was down to a science—in fact, she hardly needed to do anything. Most of it was automated by the System, with the exception of sold rights to certain dungeons—which she wasn’t in charge of, once again thank the gods—and direct personal interaction with certain unintegrated people.

  People like Hal Riley.

  He was sitting on a beach right now. Level Sixty-One wasn’t outrageously high. In fact, she’d heard that there were over a dozen Level Seventy-Plus homo sapiens right now. But something about him had Voril’s attention as Phase One ended and Phase Two began.

  He’d only asked a few questions, and only one had cut her deeply.

  “Did you build the Tutorials? The dungeons?”

  He hadn’t said anything after that, but she didn’t have to be a Level Three Hundred Sixty-Seven Worldcaster almost all the way through Rank Seven to see that he’d been thinking. Gears had been turning in that man’s head. She could only hope it was about revenge.

  The Consortium could work with revenge. She was an expert at it, in fact.

  A prompt appeared in the air in front of Voril. She swiped it away with her mind. As far as she could tell, everything in the Chicago area had worked according to the Consortium’s parameters.

  A moment later, the System messages poured in. This time, she didn’t ignore them, and she didn’t ignore what was happening to the city she hovered above.

  World Graft Commencing: Hybridizing [Earth] and [Solemnus Six]

  Tier One Dungeons Disabled

  Unclaimed Safe Zones Disabled

  Terraforming in Progress

  Welcome to Phase Two, [Voril]!

  Team: [Consortium Integration Management Specialists (564 Remaining]

  Objective: Secure and power a Waypoint (564 Remaining) (Not Applicable)

  Time Limit: Two Weeks

  Time Until Graft Completes: One Week

  Time Until Waypoints Appear: One Week

  Beneath her, Chicago changed.

  a financial success I can point to and say, "I can do this." Whether that's signing a reasonably okay deal with a publisher, finding success through Patreon, or self-publishing to Amazon, if I haven't gotten some proof that I can do this at the level I want to, then I need to look for another career, and start writing more slowly, on the side. I'm tired of being stuck in life, and I'm ready to feel like I'm moving.

  do love it. But I also need to do what's best for me, and that's finishing The Halcyon System (since it's contracted with a publisher), working on something new, and figuring out where Voltsmith needs to go.