The Gamers were trapped in a cave. On one side, deeper into the cave, Erik Bloodaxe and his armed Vikings were looking at them with distrust, and a little bewilderment, not quite processing them as threats. At the entrance of the cave, the Mongols were preparing to go in and kill them all.

  It was natural that the Vikings were not very afraid of them: Emily was crying openly. Liam was a sixteen-year-old putting on a brave face while facing certain death. Wyatt was on the ground holding his broken leg. Arthur’s injuries were beginning to take their toll, forcing him to lean against the cave walls just to keep standing…

  And Mark was laughing like a maniac.

  His laughter echoed through the silence of the cave, getting everyone’s attention.

  One of the Vikings, a massive man towering over six feet four, lost his patience and closed the distance to Mark in just a couple of strides. He tried to grab Mark’s arm—probably intending to crash his head against some stone, to make him shut up—but Mark avoided his grabbing hand with [Phantom Presence], and in a fluid motion, he drew his dagger and pressed it against the Viking’s neck.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” Mark snarled to the surprised Viking.

  The Vikings in the cave drew their weapons, ready to free their comrade.

  Erik Bloodaxe, the only Viking who was still sitting, made a gesture to stop his men from charging. He looked for a couple more seconds, studying the Gamers, before he got up and walked toward Mark, stopping only a few feet away.

  “Let go of my man,” he ordered.

  Mark glanced at Erik Bloodaxe and pressed his dagger a little more into the neck of the massive Viking, who seemed willing to charge against him, consequences be damned. The point of the dagger broke the skin and drew a little blood.

  “First,” Mark answered, “I need you, or somebody else, to look outside and realize that we’re extremely fucked if we don’t work together. After you have done that, I’ll tell you the way out.”

  The massive Viking was staring at Mark with dark fury. Mark looked again at Erik Bloodaxe, who, after narrowing his eyes, sent somebody to look outside the cave.

  The Viking King wasn’t the bloodlust barbarian Mark had expected; he was more complex than that. The Viking appeared to be in his early forties, and was very deliberate with his movements, with his speech, analyzing every detail—always trying to find an edge. And he had a certain energy about him, a power lurking beneath.

  This dude isn’t a meme like Johan. He was actually one of the greatest generals in history, Mark thought. A man who had carved his place in history with the blood of his enemies.

  And his men were loyal, clearly more than willing to die for their leader. Obeying his orders without hesitation.

  The Viking he sent to look outside was big and muscular, with long locks of black hair. He walked carefully next to the standing Gamers. When he realized that they were way more afraid of him than he was of them, he seemed to relax a little. He even spared a little pat on the head for the very young and afraid Liam.

  After peeking outside and almost being hit by an arrow, he walked back into the cave, looking defeated.

  “I count more than sixty soldiers, Erik. They are leaving their horses and getting ready to assault the cave.”

  The announcement was met with some groans from the Viking soldiers. They didn’t seem especially afraid, but they looked exhausted.

  Erik Bloodaxe took the news without changing his expression.

  “You see?” Mark asked. “We need to work together.”

  “Sure,” the Viking King answered. “This is not a good situation. Now let go of my man. I will not repeat it.”

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  Mark let go of the man, allowing him to walk away and preparing to jump back if the massive Viking tried to avenge himself.

  But the massive Viking didn’t move. He remained standing in the same place, seemingly tempted to draw his sword and cut Mark to pieces.

  “Bjorn, retreat,” Erik Bloodaxe ordered through the tension, and the man obeyed, stalking back to his comrades while glaring at Mark, killing him with his eyes.

  Then Erik Bloodaxe looked at Mark and asked:

  “Who are you?”

  “We’re soldiers of ILoveFurries, Seventh of his name. A legend known by everybody on old Earth, and currently the tenth most powerful general of the apocalypse.”

  Mark was pretty satisfied with his little speech. He felt he had painted a decently impressive image of his leader.

  But the Viking king dismissed it with a wave of the hand.

  “You’re not soldiers... Him? Maybe,” he said, looking at Arthur, who, even with his injuries and exhaustion, had walked behind Mark to back him up.

  But then he looked at the young Liam, at Emily, at Wyatt, at Gustav, at the overweight Tobias… and at Mark. And he added.

  “But the rest of you are not soldiers.”

  Fuck you, dude, Mark thought.

  He was tempted to say it out loud, but Arthur made a little tap on his shoulder—probably reading his mind, because it wouldn’t have been the first time Mark was killed with fuck you as his last words—and Mark decided to go with a more diplomatic approach.

  “Our general never depended on raw strength. If you looked at the sky this night, you’ll know that his results speak for themselves.”

  Erik Bloodaxe made a little roll of his eyes.

  “Yes… I noticed… I suppose he isn’t the bumbling fool he seemed to be… I don’t like being lied to, but I suppose this is not the moment to speak about it.”

  Mark remembered that apparently Julius Caesar wasn’t very pleased with Johan.

  And clearly, Genghis Khan wasn’t very fond of him either.

  And now apparently even some fucking Vikings were pissed off at him.

  And the motherfucker had the balls to brag about his people skills…

  The voices of the Mongols outside were getting closer. They seemed to be carefully approaching the cave, probably fearing the gamers had another ace up their sleeves.

  Erik looked at the entrance of the cave. For the first time, his face betrayed his uncertainty.

  “You said there’s a way to escape?” he asked, and he seemed to hate having to ask.

  “Yes. There is one way out… How did you call it, Tobias?”

  Tobias took a couple of seconds to understand what he was talking about. Then his brows shot up.

  “The pocket dimension…”

  “What? Are you crazy?” Arthur asked, behind Mark.

  “No,” Mark answered, looking back. “I’m just desperate. And what does that make me?”

  Arthur smiled to himself.

  “That makes you dangerous...” he answered. “Okay, let’s fucking do it before I think about it better.”

  I’m desperate. And that makes me dangerous was something they used to say before risking their lives doing something crazy. Mark didn’t remember who had said it the first time. But it had stuck.

  He was glad his friend still remembered those little things.

  Mark approached the Viking King.

  “How do you activate the pocket dimension?”

  Erik Bloodaxe narrowed his brows. He seemed a little confused. And angry.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The thing you did this night with the enemy soldiers. There seemed to be a ship and an ocean?”

  Erik Bloodaxe finally understood what they meant. The plan they were proposing. And he started laughing.

  “Oh… You mean the Glimpse of Valhalla… All you need is the spilled blood of a general, and enemies aiming for his head...”

  Erik Bloodaxe laughed again.

  “Oh… I like how you think…” he said, extending his arm.

  Mark approached with his dagger.

  Erik retreated for a second, suddenly suspicious.

  “How can I know you’re not trying to kill me?”

  “Why would we want to do that? I would die too.”

  “Honor for your General. Glory for your General. He may be able to reach a higher rank if one of his soldiers slays another General.”

  Mark thought about how much he cared about his General’ honor.

  And laughed. Some of the Gamers behind also chuckled a little.

  Erik Bloodaxe was surprised.

  “Sorry. Sorry,” Mark said, trying to save the situation a little. “Our general doesn’t need us for his honor.”

  Erik Bloodaxe looked suspicious, but the Mongols were starting to enter the cave…

  The Viking King extended his arm toward Mark.

  Mark, still with the dagger in his hand, stepped forward and made a small cut across the General’s forearm. Immediately, a powerful torrent of shimmering smoke started to emanate from the injury, making Mark jump away.

  Erik Bloodaxe smiled, seeing the Gamer’s reaction.

  The countdown began. That very night, the smoke had shaped a massive figure of Erik Bloodaxe silently roaring in defiance. This time the shimmering smoke couldn’t form properly in the cave, and it turned into a shapeless moving fog that threatened to choke them.

  “Everybody come closer!” Mark ordered the rest of the Gamers, fearing some of them might not get absorbed into the pocket dimension.

  The smoke coalesced into the small cube of the size of a shoe box, throbbing and beaming with blue light. And it started to expand immediately, absorbing them all.

  The last thing Mark saw was astonished Mongols retreating away.

  “Fuck you, losers!” he shouted, silently praying he hadn’t made the situation even worse than it already was.