World Unbound

by Tao Wong

  In the air, I spin and twist, locating the Field Boss, who has recovered from my latest bowling attempt and is scurrying away. Even as it does so, it’s manifesting another spell, hands waving in unison as a weird, rising chant fills the battlefield. Too bad Spells take a bit of time to manifest. The more powerful the spell, the longer it takes—dependent on skill and ability—which is why I tend toward simpler spells in combat. When I’m not using Skills. Because Skills just require a moment of concentration and willpower.

  Around me, an even dozen identical copies of my sword appear. I raise my hand, the original sword in my hand shining with light as I gesture downward, the action copied by the dozen blades as beams of concentrated energy tear the air apart to impact the Field Boss. A few unlucky monsters get in the way of the strike and are torn apart like wet newspaper. Each enhanced blade of energy rips through the monster, their penetrating power doubled due to my new Master Skill. Long tears appear on the Aqrab’s body, thousands of points of damage appearing in a single strike.

  Army of One. The damn Skill name says it all.

  I land on the ground with a grin, striding forward as the Aqrab struggles to stand up, a pair of feet so badly damaged that one lies on the ground next to it. Blood dribbles out from its wounds, a sulphuric smell rising from its wounds even as its buffs attempt to heal the damage.

  Thanks to my Aura and the sheer intimidation of having their leader nearly mashed flat, none of the monsters charge me as I finish the pitiful creature with one last stab of my blade. The moment the Field Boss dies, its body collapsing entirely into the ground, a ripple goes through the crowd of monsters. They break apart and flee, the bond keeping them here broken.

  In their fear, the monsters still know better than to come near, circling round the corpse of the Field Boss and me. No surprise then that my friends arrive soon afterward. First to arrive of course is Lana, the redhead flying over the monsters on her griffin, the creature dropping to the ground to deposit its voluptuous rider with a blast of sand.

  Without a word, the redhead throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I return the hug, holding her close while the rest of the group finds their way over. In a short while, the rest of my friends, my team, arrive. While the battle continues to rage around us, while the remainder of the monsters are mopped up, we hold our first meeting in four years.

  I can’t help but grin as they cluster around, my eyes taking in the changes among them all. The new lines on their faces, the greater confidence in their stances, the much larger health and Mana bars. The big, wide, grinning faces. I take it all in, savoring the moment before I finally speak.

  “What took you so long?”

  Chapter 3

  Cleaning up after the Field Boss dies takes only a short while. The Hakarta and Erethran army help clear the monster corpses, stacking up bodies for transportation and cleaning later. Interestingly enough, looting is conducted under a somewhat different scenario than normal, as everyone is in an army-based super-group, making looting simpler. Everything will be stored and divvied up later, rather than each individual having to find the corpses they killed.

  The Galactics we were fighting ceased fighting us the moment the Field Boss fell, their interest extinguished like the creature’s life. It takes a little explaining, but it seems the entire battle was more of a ritualized competition than a desperate race for resources. With the Field Boss down, there’s little point in continuing the contest and the Galactics cease hostilities. They work alongside our people in picking up corpses of their fallen and looting bodies of those monsters they’ve killed. Still, I do note that we mostly allow the Erethrans to interact with them. No surprise there—the Galactics are probably more used to switching from a desperate battle to non-aggressive stances than we humans are.

  Of course, except for when I quickly loot the Field Boss, as requested by Lana, I’m busy with other, more human things. I don’t even have time to do more than absently note that I’ve Leveled again.

  “Yes, I’m alive.”

  “No, no communication possible. There was only one, semi-functioning Shop.”

  “Yes, I got my Master Class.”

  “No. I can’t say where it was.”

  “Yes, it was hard. I missed you guys too.”

  “Yes. I did have to grandstand like that.”

  “Yes, I did see your new Levels. Congratulations times ten. Or twenty.”

  “No, I haven’t checked in on Vancouver yet.”

  And on, and on. The shouted questions, the exclamations of surprise and joy, the hastily blurted answers and explanations take up the next hour before we finally make our way back to the temporary camp. That the camp is well-organized and made up of almost-permanent-looking structures, formed by Skill and Spell, is somehow less surprising than its sheer size.

  Unsurprisingly perhaps, the conversations and questions continue to come as we adjourn to the mess hall and congregate around a pair of picnic tables, supping on an extensive buffet of food. Amelia and Mike join us, while others that I barely know, like the Calgarians and Seattle members, leave us alone after they welcome me back. Even then, I notice more than a few glances shot our way by the curious, but none intrude.

  “Is it just me or is this really good?” I say, speaking around a mouthful of delicious barbecued monster. It’s a mix between the succulent fleshiness of beef and the intense gaminess of lamb, with a delectable series of spices that mixes heat and sourness.

  “It’s very good,” Mikito answers me with a smile. The Samurai has advanced incredibly in four years, sitting at Level 41 in her Class. It’s a frightening increase and probably the largest jump I’ve seen among the group, even if she had the aid of others and full access to Quests and Shops in a Dungeon World.

  I kind of feel cheated by the sheer amount of experience I lost, though I mentally comfort myself that it’s only temporary. I’ll “earn” it all back in time.

  Of course, it probably helps that the tiny Japanese lady has been at the forefront of the majority of fighting in the last four years, shouldering the burden that had been mine. Her Title is a good indicator of exactly how important my old friend has become.

  Title: Spear of Humanity

  The owner of this title has gained significant fame and popularity amongst the remnant members of the human race for meritorious acts against monsters, member races of the Galactic Council, and other humans in defense of Earth.

  Effects: title owner gains a 15% bonus in statistics when acting in defense of humans or when on Earth. +10% bonus in experience gain on Earth. Humans have a -10% debuff on attributes when attacking title owner.

  I’ll admit, I’m really jealous about the title. It’s one of the most impressive titles, in terms of bonuses, I’ve ever seen, but the fact that it’s probably one of a kind and based off worldwide fame contributes a lot to it, from what I understand about the System. After all, the damn leech of a System tends to draw from the masses to benefit the individual. And itself, of course.

  “We often bring a Chef or three with us on these campaigns,” Lana says, gesturing to where the cooking stations have been set up.

  I find myself blinking, the contrast between our hurried and mostly combat Classer-based campaign four years ago and this more urbane affair giving me mental whiplash for a second.

  As if she can read my mind, Lana continues. “As they’re part of the official Warparty and providing an actual service, they can leech off the experience gain to advance their Levels. And the use of the exotic meats also increases their non-combat skill Levels too.”

  “It’s a pretty common tactic,” Ali adds from behind the five-plate-high stack of food he has spread before him. In his larger form, the Spirit seems to have decided to gorge himself, somehow managing to put away more than twice as much food as anyone else. Which is impressive when you realize we’re almost all combat Classers. “There’s a bunch of Artisans running around camp too, making themselves useful. They get experience, first pick of the s
cavenged loot and employment. Outside of a few groups—like the Erethrans—this is a very common setup for large scale campaigns. Cheaper too, since you can fire the idiots at any time.”

  “Got it,” I say to Ali and look over at Lana. I wonder if it’s my increase in Charisma or Perception, or just the fact that I’m paying more attention, but I’ve noticed a few things since I’ve come back. The hug. The fact that she’s seated near me, but on the opposite side of the table. How she’s speaking less and avoiding looking me directly in the eyes. In my gut, I know the answer, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it yet. I push that thought aside for now. “So where’s the rest of the team?”

  Silence descends over the table. Amelia and Mike, the ex-RCMP officers and now Guardians, fall silent, staring at Lana, who is forced to answer via peer pressure.

  “Ingrid no longer works with us exclusively. She flits around, playing mercenary assassin. She calls these large-scale battles idiot lines. Carlos is back in Vancouver. He retired from the front lines a year ago, after Beijing, and now runs an alchemy corporation. He still comes out once in a while, but his wife—” Lana shoots a glance at Mikito, who acts as if she doesn’t notice. “Well. He’s busy. Sam… we lost him at Beijing to an assassination.”

  I wince, looking down. Damn it. I liked the old man. After a moment, I meet Lana’s eyes, asking softly, “Who else?”

  The list comes quickly. Some I haven’t seen since our journey to the States. Humans from Whitehorse and BC, names and faces that float upward from the depths of my memory with little effort. Many are a brief memory. Elder Badger from Carcross—dead in her sleep. Chetan, the Healer-mage from Seattle, torn apart by a Master Class fighter in Austin. Aron Hauser, the Yerrick, fallen while running a dungeon that had overrun its resources. More names, more faces. Fewer than I had feared, but still too many. Sometimes they speak of others that I don’t recall, individuals they’ve met and befriended and lost. But eventually, they run out of names.

  Perhaps it’s the listing of the dead in its entirety. Perhaps it’s just the reminder of what happened and the losses faced. Or perhaps it’s just the realization that for all that has happened, all that we have faced together, our time together was, in the end, brief. Shorter than the time I was away. A lot has happened, a lot has been lost, and I’ve been nowhere to be found. I am a stranger to their lives.

  A somber air takes over our table, one that is deepened as my friends take turns outlining what has happened in the last few years, filling me in.

  Perhaps the least surprising aspect is that after my disappearance, the push to free human cities eventually slowed down. The first six months saw significant momentum in the United States, but they faced greater and greater resistance as time moved along. Many of the major powers that had been taking their time started acting, outright purchasing settlements from other Galactics—and a few humans—before directly transporting over masses of their people. And these weren’t Basic Classes that arrived but swarms of Advanced Classes and a few Masters.

  To combat the ever-increasing speed of reinforcements from the Galactics, Miller and the team switched to an opportunistic approach in aiding settlements. Using smaller, specialized human teams, along with help from the Erethran Army and the Harkarta’s Sixty-Third Division, a series of focused campaigns were carried out on settlements that were ready to be freed. On top of that, of course, Miller’s combined army continued to push east.

  Unfortunately, each battle wore down their army, losses continually mounting. Each new settlement taken needed guards, men to watch over them and build up the settlements. Reinforcements were sparse, coming from individuals who trickled in from other locations. The breaking point in the States was when we lost—and regained—Denver in a period of two weeks. Rather than push forward, Miller decided to call a stop to the expansion to train and reinforce newly retaken settlements. While guerilla warfare continued—and continues—the results have grown significantly less promising. In effect, we seem to be in a state of cold war with the remaining Galactics.

  On a personal level, all my settlements continue to belong to me and thrive. In fact, due to skillful management under Lana, Kim, and Katherine, the west coast of Canada has become an important Leveling hub. With a trade and transportation agreement in place with Roxley and one of the few “safe” overland routes to Alberta and to the high-Level zones in the Yukon, we experienced a significant northern migration from the States. While Alberta and the prairie provinces have finally been—mostly—freed, the losses and delay in setting up Towns saw a slower growth factor.

  Unfortunately, a two-part alliance among a pair of Galactic powerhouses has stopped us from taking over the majority population centers of Ontario, their ruthless tactics, including the massacre and relocation of the entire Montreal population, have forced us to put a pause on our expansion. A constant stream of refugees and freed Serfs escape to the west, with the prairie towns bearing the brunt of retaliatory attacks for continuing to accept our humans. In the meantime, the combat forces Lana has gathered train and Level in ritualized combat, like the most recent battle.

  As for the States, fractured by politics, the United States is united no longer. Instead, the west coast, the south—including much of New Mexico and Texas—and the area around Washington DC have all formed into three separate blocs consisting of freed human cities and a few allied Galactic cities. They call themselves variations of the “legal” representation of the real government of course, with regular political negotiations occurring as they attempt to patch the country back together.

  As for the rest, including the so-called flyover states, their settlements are owned and run by the Galactics, with a few scattered human warlords and monster-infested hellholes. The Truinnar make up the largest portion of the owners in North America and South America at the moment, which has placed our own settlement in an interesting political position with friends on both sides.

  On a global scale, matters are somewhat less depressing. Perhaps due to their large populations, India, Brazil, Pakistan, Japan, Nigeria, Korea, and China all managed to keep control of the majority of their cities. Of course, many of the borders that we knew have been redrawn, with many of the larger countries fracturing into smaller governments. Local warlords rule their four-, five-, six-city empires with a diverse number of rules and regulations. Not surprisingly, negotiations continue as visionaries and despots attempt to stitch together larger countries.

  While Europe was densely populated, it seemed to have been adversely affected by a significant Galactic presence. No one knows why, but it seems many larger Galactic corporations decided that western Europe was a wonderful location to first set up shop. Humans, in the grand scheme of things, became nothing more than pawns, forced to flee while the Galactics battled one another. The Movana in particular hold a significant portion of western Europe. Unlike our knockdown, drag-out wars though, the Galactics seem prone to smaller-scale, ritualized combat. Mike is happy to regale me with the story of how Eindhoven was won after a single battle between a pair of Master Class individuals, which left both parties battered but alive.

  Ironically, the increased number of European refugees into northern Africa actually helped stabilize human settlements there, giving us a band of powerful helpers in that region. It’s where many of the members of the army around us come from actually. Outside of that, Africa is a hodgepodge of settlements and interest groups, with few “powerful” blocs in charge of more than a half-dozen cities. But Africa’s a big place, and empty as it might be at times, a few major governments have arisen. Frighteningly enough, Africa has some of the greatest concentrations of high Level combat classers in the world.

  As for Australia… well, the less said about that pitiful continent, the better. It certainly lived up to its moniker of the most poisonous continent. The few humans who survive there are holding on by the skin of their teeth.

  “So basically, humans being humans and no one joins together?” I say with a grimace. U
nfortunately, while we might band together in the short term, in the long term, self-interest often wins out.

  “Not completely. Some groups have started forming,” Lana says with a sigh. “With the Planetary Voting Platform happening every month, it’s forced a certain amount of macrolevel grouping. Quite a few of the interest groups are geography-based, but some are champion-based.”

  “Champion?”

  “People like our little Mikito,” Lana says, inclining her head as Mikito flushes slightly in embarrassment. “People who have become famous enough that they’re a significant political force by themselves.”

  “I don’t do politics,” Mikito grumbles and points at Lana. “She’s considered a player too.”

  “Only because of John’s—your—settlements,” Lana says firmly. “Which we’ll need to talk about.”

  “We will,” I assure the redhead. There’s so much to catch up on. So much to understand. We haven’t even scratched other topics that puzzle me, like the presence of the Erethran Army.

  But before we can dig deeper into the past, others break in. As much as they might be my friends, they’re also people of import and they have duties, important duties, that have been put aside for long enough. One by one, they’re dragged off to deal with problems that only they can solve. And eventually, I find myself alone but for Ali.

  Again.

  “Redeemer.” The low, gravelly voice with a British accent takes me out of the notifications Ali has been piling in front of me.

  Left alone, I was taking the time to catch up on what has been happening, with Ali sorting and sending me relevant pieces of data. I might have received an overview from my friends, but four years leaves a lot to cover.

  “Major Ruka.” I look up, grinning at the big, ugly, tusky Hakarta. Damn, I’d forgotten how ugly they are up close.