“You should try to claim this region.”

Jorden Moore stared a the air as the System’s dry words floated to his ears.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“It has many stores, several of which are grocery stores. This would give you a strategic advantage.”

Jorden glared. “And it just so happens that this would make me a massive target.”

“Ha ha, that is true, yes. How silly of me. It slipped my mind.”

“I’m sure it did.”

He closed the map with a snort. The System gave up trying to get him to claim E Northern Lights with another dry laugh. “Could I even claim the whole thing? I thought the restrictions haven't been lifted enough?”

“You could claim part of it.”

He sighed and started waking.

The last few weeks had been interesting, to say the least. He’d gotten trapped in two more Scenarios, but they had been walks in the park compared to the Hunters. And two places he'd been in had turned into territory battles.

Aside from that, Jorden had…well, he’d survived. His Class was just as unreliable as ever. The System had teleported him inches away from the Orca’s domain the last time he used New Shoes.

He hadn’t actually stepped into the Boss arena, but it had been a close thing.

He checked his phone. December 20th Is it really that close to Christmas?

He tucked his phone away and started walking.

Others were out and about, but something had changed. There was a new tension in the air, separate from the anxiety of a sudden Scenario popping up.

Some waved to one another, but some groups walked in tight formations, often out of a desire to be close to one another rather than discipline. But what really made them stand out was the looks they gave the other groups.

Cool acknowledgment at best and outright hostility at worse.

Jorden pulled up his map again. Unclaimed.

The word hung heavy over their heads. The number of places with that label was shrinking fast, and Jorden feared what this city would turn into when there was none left.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“You could claim it yourself. Make sure it stays a safe place for all.”

“Why are you so insistent on getting me killed today?”

“The conflict would create truly fascinating data.”

Jorden punched the bridge of his

nose. Fantastic.

“I don’t suppose I could trade you in for a different personality, could I?”

“Ha ha.”

“Worth a shot.”

~<>~<>~

Alice stared at the door and did her best not to hyperventilate.

Shouts sounded outside, followed by the whoosh and crackle of flame.

A man screamed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Ronnie was gone—the shield he’d bragged about pierced in one hit.

And I’m supposed to be the heavy hitter.

This was all her fault. She had insisted that they defend their claim instead of running like they shouldn’t have.

A weight slammed into the door, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

It didn’t hide her Skill boxes from her view. They hung there, reminding her why she’d thought they could fight.

The Scenario had been easy. She understood that now. It made her think she was ready for an actual fight, and now they were all going to die for it.

The door shook in its frame, and Leon uttered a strangled cry beside her.

Alice aimed at the door and got ready to use her Skill. A water beam didn’t seem so impressive now, but she’d try and take one of them down with her.

She ignored the shaking in her hand as the door continued to rattle and shake.

The frame splintered, she got ready to fire, and screams sounded outside.

A wet thunk sounded from outside the door and then a thud.

Silence.

She looked to the others, finding their eyes as wide as hers.

She spun back to the door as a dark knife slipped through the lock, cutting through the wood and metal line cloth.

She got ready to cast again when a man spoke from the other side. “Please hold your Skills. We’re here to help.”

The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. More people moved behind the man, but he had all of Alice’s attention.

He smiled at them, his tan skin wrinkling around his eyes.

He was dressed in jeans and a trim workman’s coat, and he rubbed his hands together before blowing into them as he stepped inside.

His smile was kind and reached all the way to his eyes.

“My name is Clark. And you lot looked like you could use a hand.”