Grace woke up in a sweat, a vague, ominous feeling in her guts, a nightmare forgotten. Rowan slept blissfully beside her. She got out of the bed. Showering, arranging her hair, painting her nails, dressing in a pencil skirt that advantaged her silhouette, and wearing elegant shoes with a bit of heels to make her look taller took time. She wasn’t hungry, so she let Rowan and Lizzie eat whatever Dmitri was able to make.

  At half past nine, they exited the house, and Isla came to pick them up. They squeezed themselves into the back of the police car, Grace frowning because she was afraid to wrinkle her skirt.

  At quarter to ten, they arrived in the new Town Square and spoke with the Mayor and other officials. Small talk, nothing consistent. Lizzie fretted all over the place, uncomfortable in her princess dress, a real tomboy despite her cuteness. Isla disappeared somewhere to take care of security.

  Finally, the tower clock rang ten. Massive, with golden and brass ornamented limbs, it was the newest addition and meant to impress.

  Incoming town-to-town portal from Vladivostok

  The notification floated in the air for everyone to see. There was a Yes/No option to allow the portal to open, to which Rowan acquiesced. Three persons walked out from a large blue circle. First appeared an elegant blonde woman wearing striking red lipstick and a pencil skirt similar to Grace’s. Then, a short man carrying a trumpet. And finally, a tall, immense man. Large as a bear, or even larger. Behind him came a few servants carrying baskets, and the portal closed.

  The short man stepped forward, played a short call on his instrument, then clamored: “His Majesty, Knyaz.... greets Elkins Town and Randolph County.”

  The name got lost on Grace, as the Knyaz reminded her of another tall and large man, a celebrity, an opera singer, his most famous role, Boris Godunov. Lizzie’s true father. A visiting teacher, a position of power, a light attracting a small, ugly duckling moth. Herself.

  She had cheated on his boyfriend, and when she had resolved to carry Lizzie to term, no matter what, she also had accepted the bribe: money to put as an advance for the house. To secure a home for her child in exchange for her silence. She was never to reveal who the girl’s true father was. Tears filled her eyes.

  After exchanging accolades and handshakes, the mayor led the procession to the Town Hall, the mansion Rowan allowed the city to use. There was to be a party. In Elkins, it was morning, and in Vladivostok, it was past midnight, so the food was mixed. The guests had brought caviar and vodka, and the hosts game and craft beer. It was a strange combination for that hour, but people seemed to enjoy it.

  When the party approached its end, the Knyaz leaned and whispered something to Rowan. The latter leaned his head backward, roaring in laughter, and patted the Russian on the back. Beckoning the trumpeter, the Knyaz said something into the musician's ear, who nodded and played a few loud notes before clamoring:

  “Count Allinder and Knyaz…—" Boris Godunov, Grace's mind replaced the real name“—of Vladivostok have agreed to offer the public a martial demonstration, a friendly boxing match. No spells, special skills, or perks are to be used.”

  The trumpeter's announcement was met with raucous applause. Her heart skipped a beat. Lizzie and Isla were screaming, cheering for Rowan.

  The two men undressed, shirtless. Rowan’s muscles were a marvel, a masterpiece, a living sculpture. Boris Godunov was fat, but fat on a bear is deceiving. Grace’s head throbbed with apprehension. A cloud was hanging over her mind, preventing her from Seeing the match's outcome.

  Rowan danced around the hulking Russian, throwing hits, at first to probe the adversary, then to overwhelm him. But the Knyaz soaked Rowan’s attacks like they were breakfast cereals. His fists found their target. The younger man was thrown back but landed on his feet and rushed back to fight.

  Everybody was yelling, making her dizzy. Grace closed her eyes and covered her ears to make it stop. There was a loud noise, and a dampened sound followed. When she opened her eyes, Rowan was lying on the floor.

  “Well fought, kid,” the Knyaz offered a hand, helping a dazed Rowan back to his feet, then hugging and patting him on the back.

  The crowd roared. It had been a beautiful fight.

  “It’s not fair!” Lizzie screamed in tears. “My Daddy’s the best!”

  A public notification followed.

  The System considers the boxing match has met the requirements for a Leadership Challenge. Randolph County is now under the rule of His Majesty, Knyaz—Boris Godunov, Grace’s brain said again—ruler of Vladivostok. Count Allinder will become a vassal to the Knyaz.

  The Russian came forward, along with his followers, and started chatting with the mayor and the council persons. Rowan dressed and joined Grace.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie, nothing changes,” he patted Lizzie’s head.

  “But it’s not fair!” the girl yelled again. “You’re the strongest daddy in the Universe!”

  Grace woke up in a sweat, a vague, ominous feeling in her guts, like a nightmare forgotten. Rowan slept blissfully beside her, exhausted. She fondled his cheek softly because her happiness from loving him was overwhelming. A short yawn, then Rowan's eyes found hers. He stretched his arms and pulled her into his embrace.

  They made love like never before: rough, passionate, and intense beyond words. Ultimately, they stared at each other, enjoying the eye contact and the love it projected.

  "I love you, Isla," Rowan said.

  And suddenly, Grace saw the world through his eyes. The woman in Rowan's arms had long blonde hair, lean and muscular arms and legs, and blue eyes. She screamed.

  Grace woke in a sweat, a vague, ominous feeling in her guts. Nightmares, all night… Rowan was awake; she could hear him chatting downstairs with Dmitri. She jumped out of bed, throwing a house robe on her. The Knyaz visit was to start soon, and she needed to prepare.

  [Cory]: Stop!

  "Ah!" Grace jerked, surprised by the chat appearing in her sight and hearing.

  [Cory]: Stay put and listen. I'm detecting glitches in the System, with you as an epicenter.

  “Could it be related to my dreams?” Grace shivered.

  [Cory]: Tell me everything. This can't be a coincidence.

  Trying to remember her nightmares in the smallest details, Grace began to tell her story, clutching the house robe at her chest in search of an illusory armor and sitting on the bed as she felt dizzy by the madness around her, the new Awakened world, her class, everything.

  [Cory]: Fuck… This is bad… This is so bad… Oh no… He’s… You mustn’t tell Rowan.

  “Why should I listen to some… AI?” Grace sneered. “This is important.”

  [Cory]: Don’t you dare speak in this tone with me! Do you understand how magic works? How does Dark Matter Mana allow itself to be observed and manipulated? How does it change the spin of elementary particles to create spells, stretching the rules of physics? Shut up! Your power, as a Seer, observes Time Mana. It can glitch even the System. Shut up and wait… I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  The party was approaching its end, the moment Grace dreaded. So far, reality had matched her nightmare. The trumpeter, the blonde, everything. There were some differences, though: more politicians and public servants in the delegation, the arrival in the afternoon, the party late at night, after signing treatises.

  Letting Lizzie in Dmitri’s care, Grace took a glass of wine and went outside, on the terrace, to look at the hills to calm her worries. What was the bloody Core doing? She promised to help.

  Hi, Grace.

  She tried to turn to see who was talking to her but felt paralyzed. She saw a shadow, a silhouette, nearby, yet the voice was in her head. A man’s voice. Mellow and unnatural.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  Somebody. You can think of me as an arbiter, working to keep things fair. I muted your powers for the time being so you can act rationally. I’ll get to the point. The Knyaz is just a puppet. There are bigger players behind who persuaded him to challenge Rowan to a boxing match. The match will trigger an exploit in the System. It's young on this planet and obsesses about challenges. It will give the County to the winner. If you tell Rowan and he refuses, the outcome is the same. Rowan will become a sidekick. Let’s prevent that. The simplest solution would be to make the challenge a duel to the death.

  “What?” Grace almost lost control and yelled. “How is Rowan risking his life better than being a sidekick?”

  In a boxing match, the Knyaz will prevail; he’s a world champion. In a death match, Rowan would win… But I fear Rowan might forfeit. The thought of killing someone in Lizzie’s presence would appall him. Then, there’s plan B. Look behind you.

  Turning and resting her back on the railing, Grace peered inside the dining hall. Isla and Rowan talked about his training regimen and other nonsense. Then Isla fondled his cheek and went away, and Rowan looked longingly after her. The last nightmare, the one in which Rowan made love to Isla, hit her like a bullet to the brain. Grace’s knees started trembling so hard she had to put the glass down and grab the railing with both hands.

  I could nominate Isla as the county champion, and she’ll slay the Knyaz without second thoughts to save Thomas from living in a Russian annex. But then, Rowan would see her as a worthier partner than you. A true warrior. He loves you, but Isla, he desires with pure animalistic lust. There’s a wild beast inside him, one he can barely tame. So, if you want to keep Rowan for yourself, here comes plan C. Kill the Knyaz discreetly before the challenge is issued.

  The man stretched his hand and put a small black paper envelope on the stone railing, small enough to fit in one’s palm.

  “I’m not a murderer.” Grace snapped, shivering at the same time. She was now looking directly at the one speaking, but he changed positions. No matter how hard she tried, he was always at the corner of her eyes. His presence felt… oppressive. Crushing. Even his shrug sent a tsunami of dread in her soul.

  As you wish. Then, plan D. Transform the poison into a mild toxin by adding half a teaspoon of Sodium Bicarbonate. There is some in the kitchen, in the cupboard above the working table. Then, make the Knyaz drink it. It will make him sick but won’t kill him.

  “What’s this? Grace asked, examining the little black envelope in her hand.

  Necromantic poison, also known as Death Mana. The deadliest toxin in the known multiverse. It transforms a person's left-handed chiralic amino acids into right-handed amino acids. Does this answer your question?

  Grace sighed. She had never been good at science. “The deadliest toxin in the universe is neutralized by sodium bicarbonate?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  Not many have the luxury of finding Sodium Bicarbonate in the split second they disintegrate into pus. Until I say otherwise, you are not to reveal this conversation. A Geas has been applied.

  The stranger disappeared, and Grace felt like an invisible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Palming the black paper, she returned inside, watched the waitstaff go in and out for a minute, then went into the kitchen and poured half a teaspoon of Sodium Bicarbonate inside the tiny envelope, trying to keep her composure despite her trembling hands.

  Returning to the reception room, she searched for Lizzie. “Sweetie,” she caressed the girl’s hair. “Can you do something for me?” The six-year-old looked at her intently. “When I wink at you, could you attract everyone’s attention? Taunt them with your magic? It’s important.”

  The girl nodded. Little by little, Grace made her way to the Knyaz. Many people were sucking it up to him, but as soon she was near him, he bowed and raised his glass of champagne.

  “Milady.” A polite salute, but many things showed through it. Large men liked shorter women, vulnerable ones. Maybe he was honorable and held no ulterior motive, but staring from height at her breasts was acceptable for him; that was clear enough.

  I wish the other Boris Godunov could be in your place, Grace thought.

  She turned her head toward Lizzie for a second and winked.

  “A MOUSE!” the girl screamed. Everyone looked at her. Many jumped to help, to find and chase the monster away. After all, she was so cute. Rowan stared befuddled. He was the only one to notice the taunt. If she hadn’t known, Grace would not have noticed it either.

  She pretended to jerk and let the black envelope’s contents slip into the Knyaz’s glass. It didn’t make any sound or let any visible trace. Just disappeared. “I’ll have to calm my daughter,” she said to the officials.

  A minute later, the Russian’s face started to sweat profusely. “Gah!” was the only sound he made before he collapsed on his knees, vomiting.

  Everybody started to run around, panicking. A Healer in the Knyaz’s entourage started pumping spells into the man. Within a minute, a doctor from Elkins came to help as well, and a System notification appeared:

  To the general public in the reception room: Please remain calm. The Knyaz of Vladivostok has developed a previously undiagnosed shell and peanut allergy, but he’s currently out of danger. No one is at fault. Minor wording adjustments have been performed in the treatises signed today to better reflect the spirit of the law. May the two Awakened countries collaborate and prosper together.

  “Have you read the expiry date on this?” the mayor yelled at one of the Russian servants, shoving a can of caviar in the man’s face.

  “It’s not shellfish! Kids could eat that,” the servant said. “Look,” he pointed at Thomas, who, indifferent to the drama, was stuffing his mouth with a giant self-made sandwich with caviar, cheese, and ham, his eyes bulging under the effort.

  “That’s not how allergies work!” the mayor shouted back.

  “Only idiots… Only idiots…” the tall blonde woman accompanying the Knyaz facepalmed.

  The agitation continued, and Rowan was in the middle of it. To his credit, he acted like a good leader, trying to calm the spirits. Grace left the room, returning to the balcony to read her personal notifications.

  Secret Quest: Save Randolph County From an Insidious Takeover has been fulfilled. You have reached level 36. 4 Attribute Points have been automatically invested in DEX, INT, and CHA. +1 free AP. You have 18 free APs to allocate.

  The text that followed was more worrying.

  You are the first person on Earth to have unlocked a secondary class.

  Secondary class: Rogue, Rare tier (can evolve into Assassin, Spy, or Seducer). Same level as the Main Class. Same Main Stat as the Main Class (CHA). There are no supplementary APs gained from having a Secondary Class.

  Warning: Your secondary class is extremely weak to Negative Karma. Criminal activity will make you become a Pariah and Bounty Hunted. Working with the sanction of legal authorities negates this Debuff.

  Secondary Class Perks:

  Dexterity Perk, Threshold 1: Veil of Shadows. Shadows and night are your friends. You can avoid detection by hiding in obscure spots. All successful hits executed without the enemy noticing you are Critical Hits and inflict a 1.5% HP Poison DOT/second. It can unlock Stealth or Ambush at threshold two.

  Intelligence Perk, Threshold 1: Tactical Planning. You can put up a plan for attack or retreat in mere seconds. Works well with Rowan’s Strategic Sixth Sense. Teaming together will enhance your performance.

  Will Perk, Threshold 1: Veil of Deceit. Works well together with Mindful Control. Your potential to go beyond the boundaries of social norms is enhanced. You can hide your thoughts and deceive your enemies about your true intentions.

  Charisma Perk, Threshold 1: Charming Gaze. Works well together with Silk-Tongue. +75% chance to distract men. They’ll literally eat poison from your palm.

  “Oh, my God! I’m a criminal…” Grace whispered.

  [Cory]: Being a Rogue doesn’t mean you’re automatically a criminal. It’s just another class. Short but big bursts of damage, favor stealth and hitting from the back. I see you found a solution to the problem. I was about to tell you to pretend you’re sick.

  “Fuck, that would have worked just fine!” Grace clenched her fists. Suddenly, she remembered the one speaking to her, pushing her to become a murderer. The shadow. “Who was the guy who talked to me?"

  Cory]: Sorry? I don’t know what you are talking about.

  The words sent a shiver down Grace’s spine. She hated some parts of the new world. The unpredictability… The dangers. Other parts she loved. Rowan.

  Cory]: Don’t mention your secondary to Rowan for now. Secondary classes are complicated and work best if unlocked naturally.

  The agitation in the reception hall had subsided, and it looked like the guests were about to leave the city, carrying the Knyaz on a stretcher. Isla looked befuddled. Their eyes met, and the blonde gestured, shrugging with her palms up, a sign she had been surprised by the incident. The Russians left the building in a much less happy mood than when they arrived, and Grace forced herself to join Rowan and the rest to do her duty as a good host.