In the late morning of the Second Sunday of January, a week and a half after the New Year, Rowan and Cora had breakfast with Papa Allinder. For no good reason, the elderly man offered his unrequited advice on every occasion.

  “Those mysterious Neeks, the ones eluding you, are MIT, right? I know a guy or two—"

  "A guy or two in what?" Rowan sighed, as he wanted mainly to enjoy his omelet undisturbed.

  "In MIT, son, MIT. I can call them to point us in the right direction.”

  “Viscardi’s already on it,” Rowan said.

  “The name sounds familiar…”

  “The Vampire mobster. Runs Vegas.”

  “Ah, that's why. So, are you questing or something today?"

  "We'll scout some areas," Cora said.

  "Can I join?” Papa Allinder said in a jiffy. “I’m level twenty now.”

  "How on Earth did you get to twenty so fast?" Rowan sighed.

  "Snemc made me spar in the Arena against their children and hunt rats in the sewers. Got seven free APs from that."

  “How high are you on Constitution?”

  “Twenty-five, son,” Papa Allinder said proudly, pumping his chest out. “For the rest, I put four points in Intelligence to reach fifty and three in Strength. I assure you, I’m perfectly able to fight.”

  “I don’t want you to fight, Papa. Remember when that junkie tried to mug us, and you tried to fight back, tripped, and broke your nose on the wall? And in the end, I had to save you by stabbing that guy in the thigh?”

  “Yeah… you were a tough kid. You were what, twelve?”

  “Thirteen. Happy memories.”

  “So, can I come?”

  "Show me your stats first. Think: share my stats with Rowan."

  "Err… if you insist…"

  Papa Allinder, age: 78, class Sage (Epic): Level 20

  2 free APs in INT, WILL, and CHA every ten levels

  STR: 15 / CON: 25 / DEX: 12 / INT: 50 / WIL: 30 / CHA: 24

  Constitution Perk, Threshold 1: Tough Cookie. +25% all physical resistances, +25% to Natural Regeneration (HP)

  Intelligence Perk: Threshold 1: Sage Means Mage. Your encyclopedic knowledge helps you understand the nature of Magic. Enhanced Mana Manipulation unlocked. You can learn and use a large variety of spells.

  Intelligence Perk: Threshold 2: Ancestral Wisdom. Somewhere down the line, one of your ancestors might have been an Elf or a Witch. Strong affinity to Elemental Magic.

  Oh, so our ancestry’s why I have Elemental Magic? I bet it was that old hag, Aunt Martha, or something back in Sweden. Definitely a witch, Rowan thought before reading the last Perk.

  Will Perk, Threshold 1: Parenthood's Lessons. Your last two decades have been an uphill battle to properly educate your most stubborn son. But educating someone is educating yourself. Your Will is strong enough to use Raw Mana without fully processing it in your Mana Pool first. You can cast spells almost instantly and for a fraction of the cost, but their power is half that of a normal spell.

  “The fuck? I'm NOT stubborn at all; Papa is!”

  “Are we going to have that argument again?” the older man crossed his arms.

  “Fine, you can come, but you promise to behave and stay back if I say so, capisce?” Rowan said.

  “Cross my heart.”

  “Fine. Who’s free today, Cora?”

  “Grace is busy with some show; I know that much,” the cat girl said. “And Isla’s working. I can be the ranged DPS, you can be the melee, Papa can heal… you can heal, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “So we need only a tank… moment, checking on the LFG app…" Cora said, taking out her smartphone. "There’s a Paladin available. I like Paladins.”

  “Because?” Rowan asked.

  “Wonderful tank, can sustain themselves, and also be a secondary Healer.”

  “Perfect. Papa’s inexperienced for now. OK, then, send an invite to that guy or girl, and we can meet in the Town Square. Look at the grid and tell me what we have left.”

  “Mercer County is virgin ground; we can poke around there. If not, maybe west of Goblin town. The portals for both locations can get us close enough.”

  “Sorry, but… have you searched closer to the County?” Papa Allinder looked at Cora's phone over his glasses. “There are a few areas marked unexplored.”

  Rowan scratched his head. “I thought the secondary teams covered those.”

  Cora half-shrugged. “Obviously, they didn’t. Why don’t we search the area around the battlefield first?”

  “OK. I’ll drive.”

  “I don’t think you driving is a great idea,” Papa Allinder grimaced. “I want to keep the food I just ate inside if you don’t mind.”

  "Our Town Core can teleport us there from the portal hub now. The Butler upgraded the portal perk,” Cora said.

  “OK, baby. Text the Paladin to meet us in the Town Square.”

  Thirty minutes later, after they changed into hiking clothes, they arrived at the Portal Hub. A broad-shouldered man in his early forties waited for them, dressed in full armor, a mixture of tactical body armor and medieval plate, with the visor of his helmet raised. A tower shield and a spear completed the attire.

  “I’m Hubert,” the man nodded a short salute. “Let’s go, I'm in a little hurry. I’m booked for PR Bounty Hunting in the afternoon.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Rowan invented a lot of quirky PR moves,” Cora said. “We're offering Bounty Hunting services for the adjacent counties and states for a moderate fee. We also gain a lot of money from the Reality TV show following our teams and from betting on which criminals will live or die. Our teams are not soft-handed. They shoot first and don’t ask any questions later."

  Paladin Hubert nodded. "Sending a criminal to the maker is mercy and justice."

  "But this is like the inquisition," Papa Allinder protested, waving his hands.

  “Ah, the ol’ good times,” Hubert sighed, looking heavenward. “And by the way, the catholic church killed way less witches than the protestants.”

  “Not so! Bavaria—"

  Rowan put a hand on his father's shoulder. "Water under the bridge. Now, the question is where to open the fucking portal. Butler, what was the place where the battle took place again?”

  [The Butler to Team Allinder]: Opening a gate for Parsons, Tucker County. You’ll exit on the side of the road; please take care before crossing the street.

  The difference in light, the snow around amplifying it, dazed them for a second. A car swerved to avoid them, even if they were well clear of the road. Rowan could see the swear the man didn’t dare to say aloud in the driver's eyes.

  “Papa, you’re a genius,” Cora exclaimed. “I have a signal just a couple of miles from here.”

  “OK, let’s run,” Rowan said.

  “Err… son? I’m almost eighty, remember?” Papa Allinder raised a hand.

  “You’re twenty-five in Constitution, for fuck’s sake. Have you trained at all?”

  “Does bicycle rides with Lizzie count?”

  “I’ll fly with him. Follow me, and use the mini-map,” Cora said. She activated her suit, picked Rowan’s father in a princess carry, and jumped up. Rowan and the Paladin started to run directly west. After passing some fields, they entered the forest and the hills.

  “For the record, there is only one leader in the party when we fight, and that's me,” the Paladin said on the way. “Do what I say, when I say, or you can tank and heal yourself. My liege,” the man added in an obvious sarcastic tone.

  “Let me guess. You didn’t vote for me and wish Randolph County become a Republic.”

  “No, I did vote for you and wish you act like proper nobility. Not going for a shamanistic wedding, spitting on the ground, and smoking weed, for instance.”

  “Oh, I remember you now,” Rowan facepalmed. “You’re one of the priests in town… Which one?”

  “The one who took a vow of celibacy.”

  “Buddhist?”

  “Catholic,” the man hissed. “C’mon!”

  There was no friendship lost there. That much was clear. However, Rowan considered himself a man of the people and tried to clarify the subject. “Are you upset I exiled your boss to Avignon again?"

  "That asshole is not my boss," Hubert snorted. "We're the old true church. I take confessions before every mass, by the way. About following my lead, I was serious. We, the peasants, do thrice the work you do. I’m level eighty and good at my job.”

  “Whatever…” Rowan waved his hand dismissively.

  As they reached the coordinates, the situation differed from what they expected. Cora and Papa Allinder examined a piece of paper fixed on a wooden pole at the closest end of a small clearing. The Nekojin detached it and forwarded it to Rowan. It had a few words: We, the Noerks, have bin hier and biet u 2 ze core. As a signature, there was a drawn hand showing the pinkie finger.

  “Is that Norwegian?” Papa Allinder asked. “Or Dutch? This sounds like Dutch.”

  “It’s the Russians,” the Paladin said.

  “Could be,” Papa Allinder said. “The spelling points to someone used to a phonetic alphabet."

  Rowan snorted. “You’re both idiots. Any Human knows it’s the middle finger, not the pinkie. This was written by an alien. I bet on the Mercs. They did it to get revenge for Goblin Town. Can you tell how long ago this was written, baby?”

  “Only from the core residual signal. A couple of days?”

  “They profited the holiday and got cores while we were partying,” Rowan’s father said.

  “Fuck… OK, lesson learned. Someone has to work during the holidays too.”

  The priest rolled his eyes. “Only if not against their religion. It’s in the law.”

  “Of course, your sanctimoniousity. So, we call it quits for the day?”

  “C’mon, son, give your Papa a few levels,” the elderly man said. “What if we search in that radioactive area? We’re immune, right?”

  “Cora?” Rowan looked at his wife.

  “I’m not sure… We’re safe, but Papa is only at the first threshold in Constitution… Let’s teleport back to town and head to the western border. I’ll go out first to scan the radiation levels. Calling for an extraction.” Dialing something on a pad attached to her left arm made a portal appear in front of them.

  “It’s certainly sweet to be a VIP,” the Paladin said, going through first.

  “Butler, could you open a portal for Cora so she can check the radiation levels west of the county?” Rowan asked.

  [The Butler to Team Allinder]: I’m sorry, Master, but the radiation levels must be checked before I can open a portal. Protocols prevent me from risking anyone’s safety. You’ll need to travel to the border as usual. Once there, Miss Shemeows can use her Admin protocols to open a local exit point.

  The priest pointed to the parking area. “We can take my car.”

  “Nice car, dude,” Rowan approached the vehicle, turning around it, caressing the hood. “Didn’t think you were the type to own a muscle car. I saw EV wimp written all over your forehead. You know what? If you let me drive, I’ll give you a confession.”

  “Don’t let him drive!” Papa Allinder rushed to say.

  “Be my guest,” the Paladin gestured toward the front door. “If I can save a lost soul, I’ll take the risk.”

  Five minutes and eight miles later, the car stopped near the border. Behind it, a cloud of dust was still floating in the air, hundreds of feet long. The Paladin opened his eyes and crossed himself. “Thank you, God, for sparing my life.”

  “For the record, this is nothing compared to how a rally looks,” Rowan insisted.

  “Some of your race-driving friends told me you’re not the best driver around,” Papa Allinder pointed.

  “I know, Papa, that’s why I’m going slowly. Cora?”

  With a nod, the Nekojin summoned her costume and took flight. The barrier opened an aperture a second before she passed on. They waited for five minutes before starting to fret.

  “I’ll call her,” Rowan said.

  Just after he finished his words, Cora erupted through the barrier and landed ten feet away. Dismissing her suit, she ran forward excitedly, grabbing Rowan’s lapels and screaming in his face with a high and squeaky voice.

  “There’s a dungeon outside!”

  “Easy, easy,” he patted her head. “Touching a Nekojin between the ears calms them,” he explained to the others as Cora started purring. “What kind of a dungeon, and where, baby?”

  “Just outside, can’t be more than a mile away. Guys, this is the real deal. A true dungeon.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Pretty much. I spent time taking radiation measurements. They are much lower than they should be. This means there was a core in the vicinity, which absorbed the radiation and activated. I say let’s go for it. This is too important to miss.”

  Papa Allinder nodded with enthusiasm. “Absolutely. Let’s go and conquer that dungeon before the Mercs do.”

  “Papa,” Rowan rested his hands on his father's shoulders, looking into the older man’s eyes. “You have a common condition called Class Fever. You think yourself invulnerable. Bad news: you're not. Cora, can we all get out there?”

  “Sure, the radiation is all but gone.”

  “Great.”

  “We’ll need two teams of six people to be on the safer side,” the Paladin said. “If you let me call my friends, I can gather the raid in an hour, maybe two.”

  “OK. You call your friends; I’ll call mine,” Rowan said.

  “What’s a raid?” Rowan’s father asked.

  “A dungeon won’t accept more than two teams inside simultaneously, and it’s better to have people that worked together before. We could use a sniper and a melee DPS,” the Paladin said.

  “You call your buddies and don’t worry about the numbers. We’ll select the best teams once everyone is here, and the rest will guard the exterior. Cora, is your armored unit ready for combat?”

  “I suppose so… We’re approaching a battalion size now, and we have Italian instructors with a few vehicles of their own.”

  “How far are they?”

  “Err… not far?” she pointed in his back, where a tall Medieval castle rose over the trees a few hundred feet from them. “That’s the Armory and the West Border’s Citadel.”

  “You’re a genius. Call them and tell them that every single available unit will join us. Take them outside and find the dungeon’s limits. If anything engages you, terminate with extreme prejudice.”

  “I’ll go speak with them; it’s faster than calling,” she said, summoning the suit and taking off.

  “Good… Butler, call Isla on our private Core line… Honey? Sorry to call, but it’s easier than using the chat. Stop everything you’re doing and head to the Border, due west of Elkins, near the bridge on the highway… ah, you can see my location on your mini-map. Good. Call all available police units here; it’s an emergency… Bye. Love you too.

  “Butler, can you patch me through to Viscardi?... Wake him up, what do I care he’s sleeping? Tell him to get out of his coffin and answer… Hello, Blackswarm. You told me you have bought some army units. Do you have special forces, SWAT teams, and stuff?... Great, man. Send them here and coordinate with Isla. We found a real dungeon active. Can you join the team?... Ah, you’ll send Victoria. Sure, if she’s a better fighter… I’m a little busy. Can you call Rome for me and ask them to keep some Carabinieri on the ready?… I don’t know how many, a couple hundred? You know, they can have a pizza but hang around… Thanks, I owe you one.”

  With a smug expression on his face, he turned toward the two men, crossing his arms, his head leaning a little.

  “New strategy. We must dominate the terrain, claim dungeons, and kill the competition. We’ll put patrols and garrisons around points of interest, and as soon we see Neeks or Mercs, bang. Butler, send a message to whoever is in charge of the US, the military, local rogue factions, etc. Randolph County is executing a limited military intervention outside its borders for the welfare of humankind. Don’t get too much into details. Just tell them to keep out of our way. Tell them I’ll activate a core in their cities and take over if they don't behave.”

  “That’s vicious,” Papa Allinder said.

  “Yeah, I know. The Butler says my approval rate in the low-mana zones is seventy percent and growing.”

  “It hovers around sixty in the County,” the Paladin pointed.

  “Yeah, because I pampered them too much and they have greater expectations than the rest… Hey, look, Cora’s back and bearing gifts.”