Eighteen MP.

  That was the difference between a stick—really more of a twig, in all honest approximation—snapping under her weight, or supporting her. A slim, nearly imperceptible margin that carried with it the weight of her growing power. It had taken many iterations, a reluctant hiring of an assistant - who, to her growing frustration, unlocked an Enchanter class as well- to lighten her workload, and entirely too many hours spent on Enchanting for her liking. Yet with her progression in her primary class outpacing her secondary class by an embarrassing margin, she had little choice. She'd devoted the entire day to the meticulous grind, each enchantment bringing her closer to equilibrium.

  The levelling gains came slowly, like the steady drip of water from a half-frozen stream, but they came nonetheless. The process had become a strange rhythm for her: pushing the limits of her current enchantments, then searching her repertoire of over twenty learned spells for new flashes of inspiration. She discovered subtleties she hadn't noticed before—nuances in mana flow, the almost musical harmony of sigils as they aligned into new configurations. After spending the better part of the morning enchanting twigs, she stumbled on an unexpected revelation while working on a crude wooden bucket. The value of the enchanted object itself contributed to the experience gain, as did the difficulty and complexity of the enchantment. That simple bucket had marked a turning point. She smiled at the thought, a bit ruefully. At this rate, she mused, she might as well start a high-end furniture line.

  Compared to manifesting arrays, Enchanting felt almost playful, like stacking blocks as a child. But she wasn't about to underestimate its potential—especially not after seeing her work take shape.

  Later, she made her way to the dirt field where the legion had been practising before they shipped out the previous day. She spotted a group of Aspirants carving fresh javelins, their rough-hewn weapons accumulating in untidy piles. Sliding into their midst, she offered no explanation, just action. One by one, she hardened the javelins with enchantments, the faint blue glow of her mana flaring briefly each time her spell took hold. The Aspirants' questions started small, but they trickled in as she worked.

  "Yes, I was here at the start of it all," she answered one of them, her tone measured and patient.

  "No, I didn’t need to sleep with Mitchell for my position," she added flatly to another, then smirked faintly, "though I do so anyway."

  "Do I think we can win the war against the Khanclave?" Her hand paused briefly before moving to the next javelin. "Yes."

  Her mind wandered, unbidden, to the arson that had claimed Old Mill Town’s walls—and to the one spell she had yet to create despite poring over it many times. The thought hovered like a ghost, and she made a mental note to revisit it later. For now, there was more to be done.

  Her attention shifted to the shields propped neatly against the interior of the wall. These, she decided, would serve as a test of her next idea. Moving to the first shield, she drew delicate shapes on its surface with her finger, feeling the familiar tug of mana. The MP cost climbed higher than expected, but she hardly noticed. Her INT stat had recently crossed the 200 threshold, and her mana regeneration was now a constant, comforting presence. It made her feel invincible, even reckless, though she tempered that with focus.

  The first shield was a success, the enchantment glowing faintly as her mana suffused the wood.

  Wooden Shield of Fire Resistance (Quality)

  A handcrafted wooden shield created by a well-meaning carpenter, this shield has since been enchanted by a burgeoning Enchantress to resist the fire spells and abilities used by the enemies of her home.

  Resists 25% of fire damage that is blocked by this shield.

  She nodded with satisfaction. No more burn victims—not if she had anything to say about it. The pile of shields dwindled as she worked, her mana flowing freely into each one. She completed seven more shields before a commotion near the south gate pulled her from her task.

  Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she assessed the noise. Setting down the half-finished ninth shield and letting the nascent enchantment dissipate, she strode toward the gate, leaving the crafters behind to marvel at her handiwork. Their excited murmurs barely registered as she pushed through the small crowd gathering at the gate.

  As she drew closer, her confidence faltered. These weren’t new arrivals, as she’d initially assumed. They were returnees. She recognized them immediately: Kyla and Ezekiel. Relief flickered briefly across her features—until she noticed who wasn’t there.

  George. Nimbus.

  Her heart sank, the weight of their absence settling heavily in her chest. The air around her seemed to still, her earlier satisfaction eclipsed by a sudden, aching dread.

  “And you ” Sarah snarled, though Kyla didn’t back up even slightly.

  “You try stopping him when he wants to do something. George wanted us to get home with Ezekiel having got a class, and we did. You can back right the fuck up.”

  Sarah didn’t do so, instead hefting her staff.

  Mitchell’s voice cut through the tension. “Enough! Sarah, leave them be. You’re causing a scene. Ezekiel, Kyla, with me to the longhouse. Actually, Kyla with me, Ezekiel I need you to go gather the core.“

  “Already here.” Miriam made herself known. “Where’s George?”

  “And with John off on his mission and George still out Ranging, that makes it us three. Well, come on then. Harvests have been good and profitable lately, so we can have ourselves an actual dinner.”

  Mitchell led them into the Clan house, buying a large roast of something called Honeyduck and spitting it over the long firepit. When he made the purchase for 25 F coins, he was not expecting the creature to be the size of a small horse, so spitting it took some effort. Luckily for them, the cooking apparatus was built directly into the stone of the pit, else he’d have worried about weight.

  The duck almost immediately sizzled over the flames, so Mitchell spread out the coals to get even heat, but that reduced the light in the main room. By the time he’d opened all of the windows, everyone he’d asked for was seated around the pit. To his immediate right was Miriam, while Sarah and Kyla sat on the bench on that side. Dalton sat to his left, with Ezekiel seated just beyond and looking at the Honeyduck with wide eyes and flared nostrils.

  “So.” Mitchell started. “If I have this correct: Your explorations led you to a large camp of horse-riders, and those horse-riders were hostile on sight. You then marked a path all the way back here to make it easier for them to follow you, so if they are any sort of intelligent, we can expect they’re scouting us out even now.”

  “What was I supposed to do? I was sent out to find a secondary class and that involved leaving markings. It’s already at 15, by the way. I got a big chunk of experience when the trail completed and I got the class. Also, that’s a big god damn chicken.”

  Mitchell processed the report even as he ignored the comment about the food. “Anything new in your skills that can help?”

  Ezekiel shrugged. “Maybe? When our people - members of our Settlement, to be precise - travel through land that's been mapped, they get a small increase to stamina efficiency and movement speed. I can also jot shorthand notes to be added to maps later, and I gained a Cartography Mastery as my first that helps me make maps. If I make a note shorthand about an area I’ve mapped personally, it will automatically update that map. Yes, I can see that you need your Clan Map, so we’ll get started on that tonight. Materials will be expensive though, I can already tell.”

  “Alright, so the first goal was objectively a success.” Miriam stated easily. “If my maths is correct, you encountered these people shortly after we dealt with the arson. Do you have any observations on them? Capabilities, number of forces?”

  Ezekiel grunted. “At least a hundred riders. Some of their mounts can cross water as if it weren’t there, and they’re good at shooting while riding. They don’t have too much in the way of armour, but then neither do we.”

  “Shouldn’t we get John for this?” Sarah asked. “If we’re talking about our military, it doesn’t make too much sense to do it without him.”

  Mitchell shook his head. “John’s training his troops. With the new immigration policy, it should only be 3 or four more days until he has a full complement of troops to work with. Give him two more days to send them all through the dungeon, and we should have a full army within the week. Ezekiel, I’d like you to get our paths set up - from here to the dungeon would be an ideal first.”

  The new Pathfinder slumped in his seat. “Can I rest first?”

  Mitchell frowned. “Fine, but you go out with the next squad in the morning. Kyla, I need you to handle the town for a bit. Work with Dalton, listen to his advice. Dalton, we need to get on a war footing. Anything you know about helping us get there, we need to start working on. Miriam, I know you’ve been working on your own things recently, but do you think it would be possible for you to create a war spell or two? I know your Chain Lightning can do a lot of damage, but do you have anything that affects the earth? Makes trenches, quicksand, anything like that?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll get working on it. I’ve had the Earth array since the start, it just doesn’t work well with the Mana Dart so I’ve not worked with it.”

  “Good. Let us know your progress. If anyone needs anything, talk to Kyla. I’m going to head out to go see John. My own class needs some training, so I’m going to go run the dungeon- just the first few rooms!” He clarified before anyone protested. “I need encounters where I can not retreat, but still win. The Carpenter ants are perfect for that. I should be gone for a couple days dealing with that.” Mitchell looked around the room. “Any questions?”

  “Who’s going to defend the town?” Ezekiel asked. “If you, John, and the Legion are out training, and I’m making paths, you’re leaving it to Sarah, Miriam, and Kyla. Nevermind who’s going to go get George, if he’s even still alive.”

  Mitchell gave a small smile at that. “Well, at least there’s one thing that’s good news. Dalton, could you remind me what happens when one of our Core Roles is vacated due to the death of the previous person to occupy it?”

  “Depends on your system of governance. In a dictatorship, you are immediately prompted to select a new person, if the role didn’t already have a backup seeded.”

  Mitchell let the smile grow. “No prompt, which means he's fine. If he’s not back by the time the Legion returns, we’ll mobilise our troops and go take him back. Now, lets speak of lighter matters while we wait for our food. I, for one, find this smell absolutely mouthwatering.”

  The sunset was beautiful, John decided. It was also better with Sarah by his side, but since they’d gotten here, it had been hard to find the time for just them.

  With the declaration of war, those moments seemed like they were even further away. Below him in the camp, the training for the day had ended. Optio Hailey’s squad was on patrol, while Jack’s veteran squad had left earlier in the day for a hunting trip. As the most accurate squad with their javelins, it had been the easy choice. Two squads were resting, while the last was performing camp duties - managing latrines, building further earthworks for defence, and maintaining gear that had been dirtied or damaged during the day's training.

  Earlier in the day, a surprise group of visitors had come in the form of Ezekiel, Mitchell, and a full 10 trained Legionnaires. They were barely a higher level than a new recruit, but they came with knowledge of his formations and drills, which was enough to make it worth it. John hastily promoted one of Jack’s squad to Optio, and the sixth squad was born. He started the support squad as well, having an extra Tiros to work with.

  John had been filled in on the developments - both Ezekiel’s personal growth and the situation with George being missing. The new Pathfinder had joined him for the walk to the dungeon entrance an hour away, and they had together marked the trail back to the Fort before he left to return to Old Mill Town. Mitchell had stayed in the camp.

  In the morning, John would take Jack’s squad to the dungeon along with Hailey’s, and the two Optios would run their squads through the first few rooms repeatedly until their highest levelled soldier was at 15. From Jack’s progression, that should gain them all the Shield Brother skill, which will make the squads much more effective at fighting in formation. Level 15 should show him what the next skill was, and by his intuition Jack himself should be the first to reach that point.

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  John himself had continued to gain steady levels, both from the efforts of his Legion and from his own work in creating the camp. Most of the options for him to work further on the camp were not available - the Fort was at level one, and he could see no mechanism for upgrading that. Given the class was new, he couldn’t even ask Dalton, so for now he would focus on filling out his forces.

  A few mechanics of the Fort allowed for him to create such a large force - firstly, was that all Resources overlapped. He wouldn’t complain, but it made it so that he could constantly feed wood into the resource depot, and retrieve field rations from the very same Resource pool. He could also get basic weapons and armour, unprocessed lumber, and even stone blocks, though the stone was exorbitant in terms of costs.

  He also had the option to set a few roles for his Century - he could set specific people as the Scout, Quartermaster, Doctor, Engineer, and Guard Captain, though for now he filled the roles himself. It seemed that was the default, unless he specifically set someone else in those roles. Once he had the soldiers ready, then he would fill out the support squad, but until then the roles weren’t expressly needed.

  Then, having the first member of the support squad with nothing specific to do, he sat her down in his tent and performed a little interview. The tent was like all of the other ratty canvas tarps, but he’d made himself a chair once the wall was complete and he had the extra wood. He made a note that he needed another, as it was difficult to feel official when one of the two of them was sitting on a cot.

  “Welcome to the First Legion, Tiros.” John started. “What is your name?”

  “Sir, I am Tiros Dalia.” The woman answered. “Level 6 Legionnaire, unclassed secondary.”

  John nodded. “Good. The Legion has need of services - tell me about your strengths and your interests.”

  Dalia’s black hair was close-cropped, yet she still moved to tuck a non-existent strand back. “I… Well, I’m a Legionnaire, sir. I am proficient with the gladius, scutum, and javelin, as well as the construction of basic field fortifications. My main interest is performing loyally to the Legion, and my strength is that I have yet to gain a secondary class, and can be put where needed. I bring duty and adaptability.”

  John sighed internally. “Alright, I’ll make it more simple: We have openings for various special roles within the Century, and I’d like to place you in one of them. Your options are-”

  “I’d like to learn medicine, sir. Troops can get by on rations, they can fight through unknown territory, and sufficient cunning and tactics could negate the need for engineering. However, an injured soldier means the Legion is not at full strength, and reduces the effectiveness of all.”

  John raised an eyebrow, surprised at her level of thought. “Very well. Until our next trip to Old Mill Town, I’m assigning you the duty of ensuring all of the squads have what they need to remain healthy and effective. Work with the Optios, bring any requests to me.”

  Dalia’s thin smile twitched. “All due respect sir, that’s Quartermaster work.”

  John stared down at her, watching as the smile faded and she began to squirm in her seat. “So be it. In the morning, you accompany Mitchell and the two squads to the dungeon. There, you will wait with him until the days work is done, and you will do your utmost best to perform first aid on any injured Legionnaires until you receive the class.”

  Dalia stilled. “I don’t know any medical techniques yet.”

  John sighed, losing some of his patience with her. “Mitchell was First Aid trained in the Before, he can at least teach you to patch up cuts and scrapes.”

  Soon after, she’d left the tent to go find the only non-Legion person in the camp. The sun set below the horizon, and darkness fell across the fort. John wandered back to the centre of camp, where a large fire held the cold and dark at bay. Off to one side, a smaller cookfire was going, over top of which was a giant pot slowly being stirred by a Legionnaire. Jack’s squad had managed to hunt two deer, and had relayed that the herd had over 50 of the creatures.

  Only one was being cooked, the other hung up to drain before it would be butchered and smoked later. All in all, it was shaping up to be another quiet night when a wordless shout came from the east guard, swiftly followed by the sound of a roaring beast.

  “Spinebear!” The eastern guard shouted. “Alarm!”

  John didn’t hesitate to sound the call, the impending action purging the encroaching sleep from his mind. “Legion! To arms!”

  The camp burst into a flurry of frantic activity. A crowd began forming in front of the impromptu log they had leaned their swords up against. “Optios, gather your squad’s gear with one of your Tiros, the rest clear out!” John called out, slightly worried about the sharp weapons being moved in that crowd. He gathered his own gladius and scutum from beside his tent, and made for the east gate.

  Another pained roar sounded, and John was just able to make out the pale white of the bone-spikes in the dim firelight. “Bring torches!” He shouted to nobody in particular, confident the order would be obeyed. He had no time to waste. A single Legionnaire was doing its best to evade the powerful claw swipes, and was doing quite well at keeping the bear back, but with the level difference, John knew a single hit would spell his doom.

  Adult Spinebear

  Level 24

  With a pang of intuition, John activated his Forced March skill, and he put on an extra burst of speed. He was too far to help, having neglected the javelins in his rush to gear up. He could only watch as a gigantic paw swiped downwards, could only observe as the Legionnaire defiantly lifted his shield and chambered his gladius for a counter - just as he’d been trained to do.

  Unfortunately, his defence was too little and the trained manoeuvre ill-suited to this opponent. The swipe faced only the briefest resistance before crashing through his guard with the sound of splintering wood and cracking bone. John let out a throaty roar and lowered his own shield, bracing it with his shoulder and ramming into the Spinebear with all of his might.

  To both his and the beast's surprise, the Spinebear was bodily pushed over, rolling once before finding its feet again and staring down at the 6 foot tall Centurion. John’s opponent reared back on its hind legs and roared, and John had the briefest thought that it would likely be easier to fight an actual house than this thing.

  Then the bear came down, both paws whistling through the air, and John used his Testudo skill to block both, though the sheer weight and strength they each held was too much for his shield to handle, and the wood buckled and snapped under the pressure.

  John cast it aside, lunging forward with his sword and thrusting for the creature's eyes, but it flinched back, and the thrust skittered off of fur as thick as wire. He spun back, avoiding the chomping jaws, and squared up with the beast once again, taking stock of the situation.

  “Centurion, down!” He heard Jack’s voice bellow, and he complied - both due to ducking under a horizontal swipe, and because he knew his best soldier wouldn’t command him without reason. True enough, a swarm of javelins flew forward, well over thirty of them, and though most of them were unable to penetrate the Spinebears thick fur and likely thick hide, a few managed to penetrate, drawing a pained bellow from the creature.

  John scrambled back to his feet. “Stay back!” He ordered, “This foe is beyond you!”

  “No sir!” Jack answered, stepping up to his side to an incredulous stare. “Legion! Prepare javelins, throw on the Centurion’s mark! Optio Hailey, get your squad out here and collect the wounded. Optio Johanns, I want your squad running more javelins here from the depot! We stand with the Centurion!”

  “Ha-oh!” They called back, a guttural shout of approval. John soon found himself in the middle of a battle line, terrified yet resolute Legionnaires to either side, stretching out further than he’d expected. The presence of so many armed people all prepared to help to fight and bleed for the purpose as he…

  Something came over John. Not something magical, or System related, but entirely natural. It was camaraderie. It was the sense of being bigger than yourself, of being a part of a great working. Beyond that, it was Legion. He couldn’t help but smile, then he got to work.

  “Encircle the beast!” John called, moving forward to distract it again. “Loose formation, don’t block any swipes head-on!”

  “And me?” A cold voice said from behind him, and John instantly placed it as Mitchell.

  Without looking, he answered. “About time you got armoured up. Go do your thing. The Legion has your back.”

  The clang of metal on metal responded, then the plate-armoured Page stamped forwards through the line, round shield almost seeming too small on his arm and sword still sheathed at his waist. “Good. I don’t mean to tell you all what to do, but for the sake of the buff, I hope you don’t mind.

  So this was what it felt like having Mitchell’s Aura of Command cast on him. He felt energy thrumming through his veins, his muscles quivering with excitement, all thoughts of retreat or defeat purged from the deepest recesses of his mind. From the looks of the soldiers around him, they felt it too. No longer were they terrified, no more did he see glances being shot towards the crushed guard’s corpse - his Legion was all business.

  A good thing, as the Spinebear finished pulling the javelins out and let out a roar, charging straight for John. “Now!”

  Two steps, a swing, and the sound of crashing steel, and Mitchell was in melee with the creature, the flickering of firelight the only illumination. With amazement in his eyes, John watched as Mitchell blocked one of the claw-swipes that had all but pulped the guardsman who’d called the alarm. He bent his knees, then pushed back, shoving the paw off of his shield and dodging the follow-up attack with a strafe. “Fucker’s strong!”

  The Legion was not idle during this. Following John’s earlier command, they began to encircle the bear, javelins held ready to toss. “Give us an opening, we’ll fill it with holes!” The Centurion shouted, his mind flying through tactical possibilities now that they had someone who could actually tank this thing’s hits.

  The only response he got was the armoured figure taking a step forwards and swinging its shield at the bear’s snout. Rearing back, the Spinebear managed to dodge the swing, but Mitchell followed through and slammed the edge of his shield into the hind legs of the creature to no effect. The bear came back down but rather than swiping, it spread its arms wide, aiming to crush him with the spikes protruding from its entire torso.

  “Now!” John shouted, swinging his gladius forward through the air as a visual cue. Again a swarm of javelins flew through the air like a bunch of nails attracted to an electromagnet, and despite the bears tough hide, more than a third of the javelins managed to stick into the beast’s thinner belly fur..

  It sounded another bellow of pain, then turned and made to leave, finally seeing the line of Legionnaires standing between it and the forest, Jack standing at the right side of the line. Shouts sounded all around, cries of ‘No more Javelins!’ and ‘We did it!’ contrasting in the air.

  The bear lunged forward to break through the line or just walk over it. “John!” Mitchell called. “A little help?”

  John’s Forced March skill was still active, so he was easily able to catch up to the Page. He was trying to hold the bear back, shield discarded and both arms wrapped around one of the hind legs. John thundered forwards and grabbed a spike on the other leg, planting his feet and yanking with all of his might.

  The spike cracked from the force, but he managed to yank the bear's leg back enough that rather than the lunge it was trying to make, it fell flat on its torso.

  John let go of the spike for a brief moment, reared back, and kicked it at the base where it disappeared into the Spinebear’s fur. With a cry of pain more wild and exaggerated than any before, the bear scrambled and whirled about, sending Mitchell sprawling. It’s black eyes stared down at John with hatred, and as it roared in his face he roared back, thrusting at its knee with his sword.

  His heart dropped as the sword got caught in the creatures fur and was yanked out of his hand, then a pair of hungry jaws snapped at him and without any weapons, he had no choice: He grabbed onto the Spinebears jaws in an attempt to keep them from closing and was immediately struggling for his life.

  The teeth were sharp, even if he’d managed to avoid the points, and soon his hands were slick with blood. His arms shook with effort, and he felt like he was trying to keep a hydraulic press from crushing him. The sounds and scrambling of his troops faded behind the rushing blood in his ears, and his world narrowed to himself, and the heavy death that was trying to take him.

  He heard none of the shouts, heard nothing of his troops - his entire perception had narrowed to him, his bleeding hands, and the entirely too large set of jaws that threatened to snap closed around him. His arms shook with fatigue and pain, his face poured sweat, the rotten stench of the Spinebear’s gasping breaths washed over him and made him nauseous, but he held firm.

  With feet planted and arms spread wide, John felt the jaws start to He pushed, tearing it apart one inch at a time, and he felt panicked twitches and flinches coming from his quarry, but he didn’t let go. He spread the jaws wide, and with a final, herculean effort that was announced with a crack like a gunshot, something in the Bear’s jaw snapped, and the bottom flopped loose.

  It was only then that John realized the beast was dead. Taking a couple of steps back and cradling his sliced up hands to his chest, he looked over the absolutely massive carcass of the Spinebear, impaled with so many javelins it was as if it had grown a second set of spines. Gladius hilts protruded from all over, shattered shields littered the ground outside the east gate, and a small triage center had been set up just inside the wall. John wasn’t sure if it was him, Mitchell, or the Legion who had finally killed it, but with its death came a wonderful bonus.

  He himself got a level in Centurion, but when Mitchell came up and laid a hand on his shoulder, the contact point glowing a pale blue, and he felt an itching in his lacerated palms, he knew a more significant advancement had been made.

  “Lay on Hands.” Mitchell explained without prompting. “I get a pool of 50%, and I can heal people with it. I’m giving you all 50. I won’t be bringing anyone from the brink to fighting shape any time soon, but for patching up the MVP of that fight? Easy choice.”

  John made to push the hand off of his shoulder, but Mitchell held firm. He knew that if he really pushed, his Strength was higher, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and Mitchell explained further anyways. “You’re my priority. It’s just simple math. You can make more Legionnaires. Legionnaires can’t make more of you. We need you for the war, so you get healed. Besides, Sarah would have my head if I came back, told her you were injured, and that I did nothing about it.”

  John nodded, and began shouting orders. “Legion, I want a squad to move that thing away from the gate, and another on guard - there may be more around. I want everyone at full readiness for the next hour, then we can go back to our shifts. Optio Jack, your squad is exempt. You’ll be taking as short of a sleep as you can and heading out for the Dungeon with haste. If anyone needs me, I’ll be patrolling the walls. Mitchell will help with basic first aid, right?”

  The man nodded, armoured helm now hanging from the hook at his waist. “Yep. I’m no Sarah, but I can show you how to tie a bandage and clean a wound, for sure.”

  John nodded. “There you go. One final thing! When I said that was damn fine work, I meant it. You’re all getting a bonus when this campaign is over.”

  That one sentence turned the mood in the camp from slightly shell-shocked to exuberant confidence. Even though one legionnaire had been lost and three more injured by spines that had been shot out from the beast, they had taken down a giant creature of fantasy. He expected George, or Miriam could also have done it in the correct circumstances, but he’d stood toe-to-toe with it and come out on top, and his blood was running hot. He let out a wordless shout of triumph, that was picked up and echoed by his Legion, their cries defiant against the encroaching dark.