Wild Awakening

It could only mean one thing: there were other people here. And they were strong.

He turned to Reina. But before he could get out a word, he saw a darkness rising over her shoulder. He whirled around. It was rising all around them—the dead, withered corn stalks, crackling and snapping to life, kicking up plumes of dust.

Something was coming.

"Get back," said Zane, eyes narrowed.

Hurricane winds gushed over them, spun around them, howling louder and louder, so fast you could see their silver scything currents. They touched down in the middle of the dead field, not ten yards away. They dispersed as fast as they came.

They left behind a ghostly creature. Pale, translucent skin reached out from under the hood of a billowing black cloak. In its narrow little hands was a scythe so huge it dwarfed its wielder. The blade, curved like a crescent moon, gave off a sickly bone-white light.

ℍ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟛𝟡

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤:

𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕊𝕔𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕖 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟]

𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕊𝕔𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕊𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕤 𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕪 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕥.

𝔸𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥, 𝕒 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕙. 𝕀𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝟛𝟘% 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤.

It was Level 39?

Zane sighed. He had four Levels on the thing. Reina made to buff him, but he held up a hand.

"Let me have my fun," he said.

He was off before she could reply, sprinting forward, Chains whipping through the air. It screeched and leapt for him too. The scythe flashed down. His Chain snapped up, snapped around the sickle blade. There was a shower of sparks, but it held. It looped once, twice, snaking around the handle. The Reaper tried yanking it out. It felt like a child tugging at his arm.

Then Zane set his other Chain on fire, and lashed it. White flame took eagerly to black cloak. The flames settled in, pouring over into the skin, and the Reaper's body flaked like burnt paper; there was a piercing hissing, like fat melting.

He frowned at it as it thrashed, still struggling to get its only weapon free, and failing utterly. He was realizing he shouldn't have disarmed it so early. It might've put up a more interesting fight. As it was, this was pretty pathetic.

The Reaper let go of its scythe. By then, Zane had snagged it round one leg. He had his bite—he'd sunk it in. Now there was just the drowning, the dragging deep underwater. He imagined that was what it must have felt like as his Chains made one loop after another up the legs, up the chest, round the head, until it was one struggling mass of black. At Level 43, his Chains had gotten so heavy he had to take special care in summoning them. Back at base camp, the shockwave from a careless summon had collapsed a row of nearby huts. Now all that weight bore down on the Reaper's body, cased it in a steel coffin. Only its little desperate quivers let you know there was anything in there at all.

These past few days—especially as this Chain Mastery got to tier II—he felt like a different fighter. The Zane of a week ago would have struggled to catch it, to bind it so easily. The stronger he got, the slower he leveled, but he was still improving at a rate that shocked even himself. It wasn't just his power that grew. He was far more comfortable using it.

He sat his Chain tomb aflame.

The Monster held out twenty-odd seconds. Longer than he'd expected. But the Chains squeezed in farther and farther as the solids within changed forms, sloshed out the bottom or poured up in bleak smoke. Soon his Chains clutched nothing. He unwound them and saw a heap of white ash.

ℍ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟!

𝕆𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕥: 𝟚/𝟚

𝔼-𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝔻𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟 ℝ𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕍𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕!

That was mildly amusing, he supposed.

Clapping rang out from the other side of the field. He blinked. There was a group of four people standing there, watching him. No-one he knew. One look and he could tell they weren't from here. They carried themselves unlike any of his survivors.

One was a petite woman, blue-eyed, with hair so light blonde it was nearly white.

𝔼𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕤𝕠𝕟 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟚𝟡

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝕊𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕄𝕒𝕘𝕖

𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒

Beside her stood a tall, thin, bespectacled man. He had warm brown eyes, soft curls, and an easy smile.

ℂ𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟛𝟙

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝕄𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕣

𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒

Next to him was the girl, almost as tall, with a lithe dancer's body clad in dark tights. Her black hair was cut in bangs.

𝕂𝕪𝕣𝕒 𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕟 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟛𝟚

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒

And last, the clapping man. Big, burly, and with an impressive gray beard flecked with white—one look at him, and you could tell he had old man strength, dad strength. He was well over six feet, nearly as tall as Zane stood now, and just about as muscled. He had a big old potbelly and a friendly smile.

𝕋𝕠𝕞 𝕎𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝: 𝟛𝟚

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝔹𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣

𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝕂𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕒

"Bravo, bravo! Great stuff," Tom chuckled. "You're the man we're looking for, aren't you?"

"That depends," said Zane. "Who are you looking for?"

Tom frowned at him. "Luminous Faction," he muttered. "Huh. My bad. Seems I went and made a silly assumption. Unless... You're not the Mad Dog, are you?"

"No," said Zane.

These people didn't seem aggressive. They hadn't summoned any weapons, but he still kept alert.

"The name's Zane," he said.

"Well, Zane," said Tom. "It's lovely meeting you. Yeah. I had a hunch something was off. Level seemed in the right ballpark, but no one told me the Mad Dog was a Signed."

"Signed?"

"Your Title," said Tom. "It's a Signature Title, isn't it? It shows up on Identify. 'Savage Sage'."

"Yeah," said Zane, blinking. "Didn't know there was a name for it."

"Well, there isn't an official one. There isn't an official anything anymore. It's just what folks around here are calling folk like you. There aren't many running around. In this chunk of the world, there's… two? Right?" He looked to his buddies. The tall, dark girl shrugged. The petite blonde girl—Elaine—nodded. "In the Pacific Northwest, we only know about Avery and Blackwell. And now you."

"And who are those?" said Reina.

"That's their given names. You might know them as 'Joker Savant' and 'The Soldier of God'," said Tom. At their blank looks—"Nevermind. Avery's unaffiliated. Blackwell leads the Iron Legion up in Seattle. They've been at each other's throats all last week. The Seattle folk keep trying to wipe her out, but they can't. It's what slowed down their clearing lately, if you were wondering. So—who are you guys? You guys with the Mad Dogs? Allies or something? Sub-factions?"

"There's a misunderstanding here," said Zane. "We haven't met any other Factions since this all started."

They seem surprised. "You guys never upgraded your Beacon?"

"Not yet," said Zane. It always seemed they had more urgent uses for the stones like training their people, or trading for food.

"You should really get on that," said Tom, nodding sagely. "You wouldn't believe how much there is to learn. A Rank E Beacon can only get you as far as Washington state, maybe a little north, a little south. But even there, folks have figured stuff out that would've taken the rest of us years."

"Noted," said Zane.

"Nowadays, you've got to know what's going on," said Tom amiably.

"What is going on?" Reina piped up.

Tom considered her, then him, like he was wondering how much to reveal. Then he shrugged, "Well, what do you want to know?"

"What's happening out there?" said Reina suddenly. "In the rest of the world."

"So we set out from headquarters just three days ago," said Tom. "You look at the map—we're that yellow cluster up in the north Cascades. I'm out here to do a... scouting mission? Diplomacy?" He scratched his head, looking at the others. They shrugged. "We've been in contact with the Mad Dogs, see, we're trying to get the measure of them... anyway. Sorry. What I mean to say is, we've been gone three whole days. So my knowledge is old. Stuff's changing real fast, so keep that in mind. Here's what I know."

"In America, the East Coast's maybe a quarter cleared. Midwest is pretty much a wasteland. Florida, same case, except for a few major cities. On the West Coast, Southern California is more clear than Northern California. Go up farther, where we are, I mean...."

He gestured around them. "It's pretty much Mad Max. Now, in terms of the world..." He chewed his lips. "That I'm not as sure on."

He turned to his friends. "You guys have a clue?"

"I think so," said Caden, the thin bespectacled man. "I got some intel from Seattle before we left. Most of what we know outside is swaps with Seattle—that is, the Iron Legion, with their D-rank Beacon. Theirs has a strong enough signal to talk to California and half the Midwest. The D-rank Beacons in the Midwest there can reach the East Coast, and so on. So, caveat: this is all one long game of telephone. But what we think we know is this."

"Canada's in a similar state to the US. Similar to most of the world, actually. Still mostly overrun. But the African continent's just about half cleared, same with China. Russia's half cleared by dungeon number but not by land mass. They've all managed this because powerhouse factions emerged, each led by a very strong Signed. Our best intel says some of the Chinese are in the high 60s, Level-wise, and there's a Nigerian in the 70s. They've all gotten their third class. That much we know for sure. There's also a rumor a Russian Signed cleared a D-ranked dungeon on her own. Personally, I don't believe it. But that's what they say."

Zane found this all incredibly fascinating. He thought he was fast—he was leveling pretty much all day. How the hell did they all get so strong? I might not even be the strongest in Washington state.

It was surprising. And also exciting.

Then again, he supposed it was the population of the whole world they were talking about. Everyone who was competing in thousands of different professions before were now competing in only one. Leveling. Maybe it shouldn't have been surprising some true monsters showed up.

"Again," said Caden, "I should preface—it's hardly been a month. We're still very, very early. And the vast majorities of dungeons are F- and E- rank—they're far easier to clear. D- and C- ranked dungeons seem to be at least a tier above them, in terms of difficulty. And they have at least two levels, whereas F- and E- ranks are all surface. It'll be a while before those are all cleared. And B- and A- rank… well."

He shook his head. "We should be thankful the only S- rank dungeons we know of are Everest and the Marianas Trench—where no one lives, pretty much. Even if they dungeon break, most of us'll be fine."

"Dungeon break?"

Tom blinked at him. "Wow. Yeah, you really need to get on that Beacon upgrading! If a dungeon's left to its own devices long enough, monsters start crawling out of them. Not the bosses, far as we know—just the minions they spawn, but those are nasty enough. They can even wander into Safe Zones. Some F-rank dungeons are already starting to leak. Seems like the higher the grade, the longer it takes to start leaking, though. E-ranks still seem to be safe. For now."

Zane soaked that all in in silence. Finally, he asked, "So, are most people out there..." he gestured to them, "…about the same Level as you?"

Tom let out a booming laugh. "Oh, God no! Most folks are still sub-ten. We're the elected Faction representatives—we're out here to meet up with the Mad Dogs. We're here to show a strong face. We've been going back and forth on Beacon messages, and they're... well. They're pretty much what you would expect for a gang that names itself the Mad Dogs. Still, always good to try to smooth things over. They're looking to be the power in Southern Washington, and they're growing real fast. Wouldn't want to rub them wrong."

"Hold on," said Zane. He'd seen a long strip of yellow lining the western coast. Just a handful of F- and E- ranked dungeons stood between that territory and the Luminous Faction. He hadn't thought much of it until now. "That strip near the sea. That's them?"

"Yep," said Tom. "Look. You seem a nice enough guy, so word of advice. We Cascades folk, we don't want trouble. We're chatting with nearby factions, trying to make friends, that sort of thing. Well, this nice little faction we were talking to, the Clamshell Guard—just a little West of where we are now—suddenly stopped responding. When we checked, they were gone. That was three days ago. So... be careful, is what I'm saying."

"…Got it," said Zane.

"Why are you telling us all this?" said Reina.

"Take it as a gesture of goodwill," said Tom. "It's like I said. We don't want trouble. If we can all be good neighbors, support each other when we need. That's all I want. My wife, my daughters, they're still with us in the mountains. Last thing we need right now is a fight. You don't step on our toes, we don't step on yours. Everyone's happy."

"I can agree to that," said Zane.

"Great," said Tom brightly.

Tom gave up any claim to the Ravenwood dungeon chest. He called it another gesture of goodwill—they weren't here bounty hunting anyways. They left off on good terms. Zane was silent the whole way back. There was much to think about.