Battleforged: Book 1 - THE BILLION CREDIT HEIST - An Earth Apocalypse LitRPG Adventure

“Husband, is he the one?”

A dazed Caliban looked at his sobbing wife, holding their shell-shocked daughters so close as nearly a hundred Blue Corp administrators dutifully formed ranks around their half-crippled commander, the hidden scion of a clan that their enemies had managed to sabotage and harry unmercifully.

Even now, just seconds after slicing themselves free of ropes, and no longer at the ruthless mercy of the Bronze tier monsters that had effortlessly destroyed the final sanctum sanctorum containing the panic room where all their families had been held… after they had been cut off from multiple avenues of retreat, no matter how desperately Caliban had fought to reunite with a certain necromancer and his clan possessing means of egress that should have been utterly beyond their enemies’ ken...

Yet somehow, their foes had known. Every feint, double back, emergency position and countermeasure Caliban had learned and mastered long before he had ever walked the Imperial Administrator’s path had been neatly sabotaged as if a Silver Tier master was laughing at his back and deliberately countering each and every one of his moves.

A horrid, infuriating thought that, at the end, with their final defenses breached and Bronze-tier thugs beating dozens of men, women, and children to within an inch of their lives, sparing them only so that their essences would be torn free in the service of a psychotic Contender before they were all thrown into an off-sight black book soul forge, he realized to his absolute dismay that his worst fears were true. A Silver-Tier monster was somehow controlling the strings being used to throttle his entire faction.

Before salvation fell from the heavens in the most unlikely of forms.

He didn’t know what mad brilliant miracle had transformed his wildcard investor and favorite champion upon Terra into an Ascender daring to blaze through his very core while the Queen of the entire Sylvan Faction, the ultimate birth mother of his own tribe as well, walked calmly by his side.

Awe had then turned to shocked disbelief when Eric managed to summon a sword straight out of nightmare and legend before striking dead a starship captain through a mana screen.

An absolute impossibility so absurd it defied all description. At which point the boy and his mother embraced an act that made mundane impossibilities utterly plausible as the pair stepped through that very screen to wreak havoc upon an entire fleet, well on their way to ascending to what Caliban dared to think was Gold.

The rank of the emperor himself. The only Gold, save for Death herself, permitted to exist within this quadrant.

It was right after witnessing that miracle that he had been offered a second chance at life and he had done his best to embrace it. So confident that he would be meeting with Lord Grim and his clan to flee this tormented world forevermore… only to find himself cut off and harried until he had found himself here, beaten and tormented by mocking monsters, gloating as they assaulted his wife before his children’s eyes.

He had felt no shame daring to cry to the heavens for yet another miracle.

Then was shaken beyond all belief when it actually came true.

A golden phoenix blazing across the midnight sky…

Become the wild-eyed hellion that had caused such chaos within Freetown just yesterday, armed with nothing more than blue jeans, bare feet, and a mithril blade that radiated higher order concepts that had no place in this world, manifested once more.

A Contender now moving at speeds that defied comprehension, somehow cutting down multiple Bronze-tier monsters wearing Tier-IV hyper-polymer suits resistant to even plasma weapons in the hands of those lacking a Bronze specialist’s perks. Powered armor that actually included mithril fibers… and the boy’s blade had torn through those mercenaries like a plasma torch through a pane of brittle glass.

Yet even as he sobbed with hope, his desperate cries for the boy to take cover had gone completely unheeded, assuring what Caliban had been dreadfully certain would be Eric’s and all their doom, when multiple snipers drew a bead on him the very instant he froze, wearing the same rictus Caliban had seen worn by multiple victims of that vile human contender Kevin. Yet by some miracle, Eric had snapped free of a possession that promised only Lythid brain worms and pain. Only to snap back to himself before gloating plasma cannons wielded by men whose belligerent malice promised inescapable death.

There were a reason why certain classes were so well hidden, after all. Assassin specialists that would be imperially bound and collard, should their true classes ever be revealed.

Before being struck from behind by undead revenants kitted up like ancient sarissophoroi charging with unbreakable pike shafts at bullet train speeds. An utter impossibility. Caliban couldn’t even fathom the massive number of perks and boons that would have been invested in a class forbidden almost everywhere, save on Terra herself. And the hidden aces of this mercenary company that had been so easily turned by a single brain-worm infecting abomination off a human Contender who had apparently joined the Lythid faction, were delivered hollering and roaring to Eric’s mithril blade, once more flashing with higher order concepts that had a battered and bruised Jinni gazing Eric’s way with desperate hope and profound revelations.

Even now, Caliban’s mind echoed with the memory of the words the boy had shouted as he fell from the sky, right before the gate that would have doomed them all.

The air had shaken with higher order concepts that had come so close to tearing the very fabric of this world, already stretched to the breaking point… yet by some miracle, the gate, held open by multiple Bronze tier shamans on both worlds, had actually ruptured. The backlash had been so severe that even the pair of deadly Bronze orc shamans had been sent crashing to the ground with the backlash. It was only by wild luck so unlikely as to be beneath consideration that he and his family were even alive at that moment, Caliban thought as he held his sobbing wife and children, his mind numb with unspeakable horror and exhaustion.

He was now more certain than ever that only a Contender strong enough to shape reality itself could explain the fortune that blazed so brightly among them. Yet even so, death could end them all in the blink of an eye. Death that clearly some hidden Silver tier monster was still eager to inflict upon them all.

He knew that he had to get up, lead his men and their families, at least those who had survived this long, and the thousands of hapless captives who had been spared absolute oblivion by only the unlikeliest of miracles, and MOVE!

“Husband!”

His eyes were immediately drawn to the source of her terror. Final crimson cards that could spell all their dooms as the massive Bronze tier shamans shook off the stunning effects of having their extraplanar ritual disrupted.

“Who dares to interrupt the ritual of Asgoth the great?” Roared the closest orc shaman, now crackling with a dozen wards reactivated in the blink of an eye.

“Caliban!”

He hissed, gathering his wife and children behind him even with mere stumps for hands that would take powerful magics or a regeneration vat to heal completely without spending months in recovery. Forcing himself to stand tall as the closest shaman glared at him with absolute hate. “You! Cursed clan of elves that still dare to evade the fate you fools so richly deserve? Then you will die here and now, sacrificed to horrors far greater than any goblin—”

The creature’s words cut off as he twisted around to glare at a sight that gave even him pause as the arena sands vibrated with what were now two hundred revenants covered in thick bronze armor, wielding eight yard long shafts of cornel wood tipped by spear heads promising oblivion as the company charged forward far faster than any bullet train, right for the pair of shamans who’s dark twisted curses immediately switched to desperately chanted wards of power, and even Caliban understood that Eric didn’t have a chance in hell of piercing massive wind wards whipping about hundred pound spikes of steel in a whirlwind of sharpened blades and cursed ice that would obliviate any White-tier creature the shamans approached.

It was with cold laughter that the sneering shaman’s momentary fright turned to absolute disdain as they turned to glare upon a still exhausted Caliban and the thousands of desperate captives now screaming in terror as the twin whirlwinds of doom approached.

“Foolish elven scum! Thinking that you or your tools could ever get the best of—”

“REPUDIO!”

Caliban was knocked over, ears bleeding as he groaned, feeling as if reality had thrummed so tightly that his eardrums had burst. And much to his horror and anger, his wife and children were unconscious, all of them bleeding from all their visible orifices.

But alive. As panicked fury turned to desperate hope, Caliban’s anxious stumps felt strong pulses in all their necks.

“Eric!”

But he was a fool to distract his savior, a wild-eyed hellion who was now racing forward with a howl even as half his revenants instantly vaporized to dust with his own Transcendent Abjuration. Only now, Eric wasn’t racing forward with his sword, but his fist.

And a boy who should have been utterly shredded, flash frozen, cursed and killed by a dozen Bronze tier wards met absolutely no resistance at all. Just a pair of stunned shaman unable to conceive of any spell that could cancel all their wards simultaneously.

“Fire Fist!”

Caliban flinched at the blazing punch that had turned the massive orc into an explosion of brilliant flame, the shaman’s head alone intact, soaring high in the air, blinking in wild-eyed surprise.

The second shaman began screaming desperate curses that did absolutely nothing to stop the monster now moving so fast that not even Caliban, with a discretely placed 200 in Quickness and Perception, could track him. All he could do was hover over his family and a collapsed Jinni as a second wave of heat washed over them all. Yet he counted his blessings, even if the air now smelled like charred flesh and superheated sand, for his young associate had at least positioned himself so that whatever wild Contender power allowed Eric to strike with such force that even Bronze tier shamans ruptured before his might, at least the shockwave of flame was pointed away from them.

Though the words he heard next threw Caliban for a loop.

“This is fucking bullshit!”

The hidden prince gazed in exhausted disbelief at the glaring youngster, his naked Adonis frame covered in soot, blood, sand, and bits of burning debris, though his blue corduroy pants looked as fresh and clean as if they had just been donned only seconds ago.

A sheer absurdity that only a Contender would be blessed by.

Only peripherally did Caliban register the furious screams and roars of the thousands of humanoid spectators who thought they’d get a firsthand seat to the ritual sacrifice of all humans and elves within Freetown, only to find themselves preoccupied with several dozen massive trees covered in fiery vines that seemed quite hungry for attention. And though only a fraction of the humanoids were in peril at the moment, their disturbance was so great that no one was firing weapons into the arena sands.

A damn good thing.

It seemed like they were too panicked to successfully flee the arena either. A pity, that.

“Kevin fucking fled! The absolute fucker did everything he could to keep me out, then everything he could to pin me, and now he’s fucking left and my Interface Map isn’t even showing his location. The fucker’s tainting it somehow!”

Caliban felt chills at the desperate intensity in his hero’s voice, before it flipped to a wry, bitter chuckle. “I mean, all these Bronze bodies, and I didn’t even get any cultivator levels. Can you believe that bullshit? Fair enough with the tin can assholes. I did effectively cut through them like a blow torch through tin-foiled butter. But all my Abjuration did with the goblin shamans was cancel out their bullshit wards! My fist was all cultivation, no transcendence at all. And right now I need every level, every point edge I can get against the fucker trying to claw up my metaphoric throat! Hell, if Eve wanted to throw me a free ‘Resistance to Puppetmasters Perk,’ I sure as fuck won’t say no!”

Caliban blinked at the youth glaring at a fist covered in what now seemed to be higher order concepts of flame. He forced himself to think past exhaustion and speak.

“Eric! Please! We have twenty thousand captives here, and we’re surrounded by enemies. If there’s any chance…”

Eric snapped out of his angry self absorption, cheeks flushing in sudden shame as he caught sight of Caliban, so vulnerable, his unconscious family at his feet, and Jinni as well.

“Fuck!” In a breathless heartbeat the boy was suddenly standing before Caliban, helping him to stand steady. “Okay, Kevin’s scared so shitless I think I got at least a few minutes worth of sanity before he thinks himself safely holed up like a rat in hell and gives the domination thing another go, so lets get you and yours safely squared away in like, the time it takes to clean up loose ends here. It’s all the time I can spare. Sorry, compadre.”

He gazed with unbearable pity at the stumps where Caliban’s hands used to be. “A good night’s sleep and that will be taken care of, right?”

Caliban forced a bitter smile. “The boons of heroes and Contenders in a newly ascending world is not necessarily mirrored by the universe at large, Eric. Especially not when one has already ascended to Bronze.”

Eric paled at that, looking almost guiltily at his left hand, for some reason, before hiding it behind his back as Caliban looked curiously at him. “So, I guess, um, investing an entire node in a Rapid Regeneration ability isn’t really a bad choice, is it?”

Caliban’s eyes widened. “Eric! If you’ve discovered such a path…” He shook his head in wonder. “We could make an absolute fortune selling such knowledge to the truly powerful and well connected. Just how potent…”

Eric held out his hand. “Yeah, this was sheered off by blaster fire less than two minutes ago.”

Caliban gazed at Eric for a long moment. “You and I will definitely need to have a talk, assuming we survive this, young hero.” He solemnly swallowed, bowing his head, the dry humor in his voice breaking with the intensity of emotions. “Eric, for my life, the lives of my family, I can never repay—”

He was immediately brought to his feet, a monstrously powerful finger gently touching his lip. “Shush! No emotional bullshit. It’s killing time!”

Eric flashed a wild smile that stretched in hideous dimensions, momentarily forgetting himself, making it horrifically clear to him just how rich and pure Aurelia’s dark fey blood flowed in this young champion’s veins as Caliban suffered a moment’s vertigo, as if he could fall right into that terrible maw… that was just a young man’s excited smile.

Caliban bowed his head in gratitude and respect, praying his young hero wouldn’t be offended by the way his wife, blinking herself awake, shrieked at the sight of their savior.

“Our lives are in your hands, hero.”

Eric flushed. “Shit. I forget sometimes that I gotta um… yeah. Alright! I’ll take care of the assholes above.”

Caliban’s gaze hardened. “Eric, we have to get out…”

His words were cut off by a cold smile. “Wrong. You all stay right here! Right now it’s a death trap. But in a few minutes… this will be the safest place in Freetown. The one place Kevin the asshole and his mind-controlling minions, which are pretty fucking obvious which one those are, with all the eyeball squid tentacles popping out of their necks, won’t be setting foot in. Trust me.”

He had the moxie to wink at a stunned looking Caliban, before roaring aloud as he raced right for the stands, his hundred remaining revenants that his spell hadn’t disintegrated now standing sentinel over Caliban, his family, and the rest of the shell-shocked survivors.

The nighttime air flashed with brilliant explosions of flame as orc and gnoll roars and shouts of fury and confusion became screams of pain and terror. Eldritch words filled the air, both haunting and horrific, sending Caliban’s wife and children shaking in their father’s maimed arms, and other words that were almost comical.

“Hell Vines! Hell Vines!”

“Peace was never an option, motherfuckers!”

“Surge Centuria! Imperator Imperat Tibi!”

Caliban’s awed gaze did his best to follow the hero as he darted about the stadium stands so fast that there were after images of flame as massive explosions that tasted of Spiritual Energy more than magic sent dozens of corpses flying through the air.

Before the bodies began to twist and writhe, bones snapping as horrific abominations rose from the ruins of their own fallen bodies, horror turning to twisted magnificence as abominations were forged into the most disciplined infantrymen of earth’s ancient past.

“Ave Imperator Abedimus!”

And in very short order, the disorganized chaos in the stands became a desperate panicked route as flashes of fire were complimented by dozens then scores then finally hundreds of spears plunging into the humanoid spectators as what had once been mocking catcalls and raucous laughter from those man-eaters quickly became desperate shrieks and screams as the orcs, gnolls, goblins, even a handful of ogres fought for all they were worth against the growing legions of undead and a monster of a Contender who had managed to slay over half a dozen Bronze in less than a handful of minutes.

Caliban felt his wife hold him close. “Who is he, really, my love?”

“He is our queen’s lastborn son. The heir to an empire that rose from the ashes of its own destruction in a single night.”

His wife flinched, knowing what his words meant.

“Husband...”

The hidden prince bowed his head. “I had to declare myself. I had no choice. Had I not…”

Haunted eyes gazed into his own. “Arlen Ort found us. He’s why me and the children are here, love. What we thought might have been the greatest of gifts where no expense was spared, was, in fact, the ultimate declaration of vendetta,” she whispered. “Only in this moment, having seen firsthand the death of the shaman that bound me, may I speak. That monstrous bastard cousin of yours declared it fitting that your final moments would be watching me die before you. And now that we actually survived… He will do all he can to kill us.”

This earned a bleak smile. “Somehow, I think that Arlen will get far more than he bargained for, if he dares enter Terran space ever again, assuming Aurelia hasn’t taken care of him already.”

His wife gazed at him for long moments, the pair holding their sobbing daughters between them. “The mother of our people, our tribe...”

“Has ascended.” Caliban shut his eyes, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “I felt it in my soul.”

His wife sighed, chuckling bitterly. “So did I. I so wished to deny it… but none of us can. Our ultimate queen, now a goddess racing through the cosmos. And here we are…”

Her husband raised an eyebrow, looking toward Eric, then back at her.

She flushed and lowered her gaze. “Our hero. Her grace blesses us still.”

In far less time that Caliban thought should be possible, desperate roars and screams died out in suffocating silence. Even the flash of a well-hidden blaster rifle could do nothing to stop the inevitable as a final screeching panicked goblin met his doom in a catastrophic explosion of ruptured flesh washing over half the stadium in a sanguine mist.

Then a sudden awful pressure filled the air, Caliban and every other elf struck sudden dizziness as the air came alive with crimson arts that left him reeling as countless hundreds of shredded enemy combatants slowly began to rise in perfect unison once more.

“Surge Centuria! Imperator Imperat Tibi!”

The words echoed pitilessly through the air, before the clang of nearly two thousands bronze vambraces smacking against rune-etched bronze breastplates

“Ave Imperator Abedimus!”

“Damn right you, do! Till the final days, boys!”

And before Caliban could finish collecting himself and soothing his terrified girls, the wild-eyed young Contender wearing his madcap grin was before him once more.

Caliban quenched the sudden surge of dread, bowing his head in profound respect. Grateful that the boy at least had the self control for a human smile.

“Great news, buddy. Our former foes had a change of heart!” He gestured fondly at the thousands of smartly saluting revenants radiating far more discipline and power than the original horde ever had, all with their cornel wood spears pointed straight up in parade formation.

Eric winked at Caliban before calling out to the shaken former captives. “Don’t fear our new friends! Their job is to guard you, provide cover for you, and keep you safe and alive if any trouble comes your way!”

This earned an odd mixture of desperate cries of relief, sobs of gratitude, and at least a few furious shouts.

“Thank you, hero!”

“We owe you our lives!”

“What’s your faction, boy? Sign me up!”

Eric grinned and winked. “Strictly free agent! But my sister, who just happens to be the head of the Sylvan Alliance, can always use good people by her side.”

Caliban let loose a tense sigh. So, they’d be traveling to Queensland then. He nodded thoughtfully. It made perfect sense, with the strongest White-tier Contender he’d ever seen or heard of in Elonia’s pocket, no matter the fictitious pretense of neutrality they all knew was a complete farce, and at that moment, Caliban couldn’t give a fig.

Of course that was when a certain wild-eyed gnome just had to share his own five silver.

“You! This is all your fault, you abomination!” The three-foot tall Linus with a clearly inflamed proboscis still dripping blood hobbled from the crowd, jabbing his fingers Eric’s way. “If you hadn’t gotten involved in Freetown… if you hadn’t contaminated our beautiful city with your foul tainted arts, none of this would have ever happened!”

Eric just stared at the gnome for long moments, before smirking and turning to face the crowd as a whole. “If any ungrateful asshole goblin sympathizer would like to join Linus in hating my arts… then please! I invite you to step out of the crowds, far away from my two thousand sarissophoroi that will be guarding the rest of you, and make it out that tiny side entrance over there into the wilds beyond Freetown. Who knows? You might just survive the night without having to say you were friends with an ‘icky’ necromancer. Hell, you could have a wonderful time with Linus as your travel partner, and have him regale you with tales of the poor young classer who conveniently disappeared when he made it clear that he had found a way to preserve delve-claimed wands for months at a time without having to sell them to Linus for pennies on the dollar!” Eric flashed a bleak smile. “I’m sure you’ll have loads of fun. Just don’t do anything to suggest you’ll cut into his profits, or you might not be getting up out of your shared camp, anytime soon.”

Linus’s features paled in abject horror. “Lies! Those are bald-face lies! Stenton was a braggart without a lick of talent! I did nothing to that little fool! I was at the golden cup the entire night. All of my compatriots will tell you the same!”

Eric’s lips stretched wide in a feral grin. The gnome blanched and stumbled back, only to find a handful of hard-eyed youths radiating a Classer’s strength that Eric pinged at around Level 30 rapidly making their way through the crowd, their fists clenched.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear it! Now back off, our I’ll strike you fools dead!” A suddenly panicked Linus shrieked, holding a wand in his hands that crackled with odd flickering tendrils of fire and darkness.

Quickness check made!

Before blinking in wide-eyed dismay when the wand seemed to disappear from his hands.

Eric smirked but didn’t even bother looking at a suddenly panicked Linus screaming for help as he toddled as fast as he could for the distant exit.

The trio of adventures exchanged hard looks. Yet a single head shake from Caliban and they immediately froze, saluted, and stepped back.

Eric turned to face Caliban once more.

“So, as I was saying! Stay here, rest up, and yeah… maybe these will help if anything comes your way while I’m gone.”

The Blue Corp survivors’ eyes lit up with desperate hope, as did those of everyone staring his way, when Eric made a half dozen blaster rifles, along with what were hundreds of pilum and an equal number of swords of different sizes, manifest in a pile by his feet.

“So, I don’t suppose there are any gunners, cannoneers, or anyone who messed with black powder artillery as a Civil war reenactor?”

And much to Eric’s surprise, a half dozen hands were raised. Three were a trio of sheepish young women who’s cheeks were blazing as they gazed Eric’s way, another three were middle aged men who clearly weren’t classers, though Eric wondered what would happen if they touched his Tier-2 Ascension pod and actually got offered some choices. Regardless, they made it clear that yes, the 24-pounder cannons mounted on undead braces that Eric had just metaphorically pulled out of his ass, complete with powder and shot, were something the half dozen Classers and hobbyists could use to devastating effect.

“Now if you could aim it for the choke points where more of those abominations would flood in from the city…” The hobbyists gazed at Eric in wide-eyed disbelief when Eric effortlessly manhandled the multi-ton artillery.

“Perfect!” The oldest of the three hobbiests frowned, sighting along the long gun’s length. “We just need a couple degrees elevation… wow, that’s incredible!” he said when Eric made the necessary adjustments before shaking his head with a smile. “Now I halfway wonder if I should have dared the pods, no matter the risks, to have such strength!”

“Believe me, it doesn’t work that way for most of us,” whispered the closest gunner girl, giving Eric another bashful smile. “He’s sort of beyond anything or anyone I ever met before.” The two girls beside her solemnly nodded. The closest took a steadying breath and approached Eric, looking far more like a high school senior than any badass classer, or a girl that should look so ashamed when she caught his gaze.

“Um… we’ll do our absolute best to keep everyone safe.” She even saluted, though her friends cringed and rolled their eyes. “Sir.”

Eric smiled. “I’ll leave the cannons in your capable hands.” He gave her a pointed look. “I’m guessing you have the points or level credits or however it works for you to alter them?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Can we? That would be awesome, and a hell of a lot cheaper than bringing a new one into existence without another massive fucking experience point penalty.” She flushed. “Um… assuming that’s okay with you?”

Eric gave her an encouraging smile. “Feel free to do whatever you like with them.”

“Good, that’s… yeah, I will,” She said. “I mean… we will.” She gazed at him for long moments, soft lips opening, though no words came out.

“Ask him, Gwen. I swear, what’s wrong with you?” Hissed the middle girl with a mock glare.

Eric raised a polite eyebrow their way. The two other girls flinched and bowed their head, whispering furiously to one another.

“He’s looking at us! Staring right at us!”

“Do you think he’s angry?”

“Of course he’s angry! But he’s so fucking hot I just want to…”

“Shh! Gwen’s growing a spine!”

A smirking Eric turned to face a now furiously blushing Gwen.

“Um… when this is over, can we join the Sylvan Alliance?”

Eric was going to nod, but she squeezed his hand. Before her hand darted back like it had caught on fire. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just that, well…”

Eric sighed. “It’s okay. I know there aren’t too many ways anyone’s going to get access to an Artillery Class. Not unless they found themselves working for a certain class of employer.”

The girl’s face crumpled, looking ready to burst into tears. Eric quickly spoke on.

“And that’s fine! I could care less about how you got to where you are right now. What matters is that you are here, right now. You nearly got yourselves thrown into a Goblin Soul Forge, and are now ready to fight for team human and elf. If you want to Join the Sylvan alliance? My sister would be happy to have you. Especially after you spent the night guarding your fellow humans against monsters far worse than any nightmare.”

The girl looked at him for long moments. “You aren’t mad that we…”

Eric snorted. “My girlfriend used to hunt for the orcs. Believe me, I know about hard choices and just doing what you have to, in order to survive.”

The pair of girls behind Gwen sighed with relief.

“So, you have a girlfriend?” Gwen said so softly even she seemed surprised by her words, her soft brown eyes wide with horror. “I mean… oh no.”

Eric smirked, gently patting her shoulder. “I’ll leave these cannon in your capable hands, Gwen. Make sure our hobbiests actually know what they’re doing with theirs. And on that note… I’m off!”

Caliban blinked. “You’re not escorting us to Queensland?”

Eric’s laughter was manic, filled with dark glee that had all three girls lurching back in sudden panic, as if realizing that for all his wild captivating looks and gentle words, he was every bit as savage as the humanoid invaders he had just slaughtered to the last invader.

“Are you kidding? You’ve now got a defensive cannon battery to blast the shit out of anyone heading into the arena from Freetown proper. And all the weapons my minions collected from the corpses of our foes before I converted them to fresh recruits willing to serve me until the end of time are now a glorious pile by your feet that I’m pleased to see the more bold among you are picking through even now!” Eric smiled at a few frank, assessing glances being sent his way by men who clearly knew their way around both gnoll short swords, orc battle axes, and the plentiful orc pilum and spears.

E – And I got a certain puppet-master asshole I need to hunt down, and not a lot of time.

Caliban flinched and paled at the message. Of course he understood.

Fortunately, the classers didn’t hesitate to claim whatever suited them with Eric’s friendly nod of assurance, earning both grateful smiles and coolly assessing looks in return as the newly armed citizens formed something of a company of their own close to a number of women and children and Blue Corp’s own freshly armed men and women who might have been Professionals, by and large, but certainly knew their way around both spear and blade.

Eric gave a satisfied nod. “I think about five hundred of Freetown’s own are well on their way to being properly armed, and I’m betting at least half of those are red blooded classers! Best of all, you’ve now got about two thousand fiftieth level pikemen guarding your asses. This colosseum’s just become the best fortified place in the entire territory! And on that note, I have an ENTIRE FUCKING CITY TO CLAIM! And the fun, Calibro… the fun has just begun!”