You have 29 days and 23 hours before you must exit any and all safe zones; until this time you are permitted to find sanctuary within the confines of designated safe zones across the civ.

Upon the cessation of this pre-defined interval, you will be compelled to traverse the boundary that segregates safety from uncertainty. This mandate requires your continuous absence from any recognized safe zones for a minimum of seven contiguous days, after which time you may return to a safe zone, thereby marking the end of your mandated Adventure in the perilous unknown.

“That’s a lot of words to say very little,” I said.

“It’s because of some treaty or other,” Vyrania explained.

“I can give up being a prospector.”

“Not as long as you’re on the Hero Board,” she countered.

“I can give that up too.”

“By dying.”

“I have a resurrection token.”

“That’s not what I meant, and I don’t believe that would work in any case. Though speaking of that, does it work outside the tower?”

“Uh, I actually don’t remember.” I brought it up.

Resurrection Token (Zone: Whitehall Tower)

Status: Inactive

A token that is redeemed upon death, reviving you.

This token is bound to you and cannot be given away.

(Profession note: This item may be sold or traded via your store.)

“No. It’s inactive. Balls.”

“Look on the bright side,” Koren said.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“You get to experience the thrill of having no safety net.”

“On my Earth, we call that a downside, not a bright side.”

“It sounds like you have a very boring Earth.”

“Not anymore.”

“What’s your currency vault?” Vyrania asked.

“You’re really interested in my abilities.”

“Someone has to be.”

“I guess I’m just too tired to care much right now. The past few days have been a lot.”

I opened it up and found the fragments she had paid me stored inside it.

Interestingly, this gave me multiple places to store them: my card storage and now the vault.

“I wonder if there’s an advantage to one over the other.”

“What does the system say?” Vyrania asked.

“Basically that it’s something I have to figure out on my own. Didn’t even try to sell me a powerpack.”

“Ah, yes,” Koren said. “It is your profession. It’s best to try to experiment and figure it out yourself. It will help the profession rank up.”

“I could ask one of the tower staff,” I mused. “One of them has to know. I’m sure Torath would be happy to explain it.”

“You could, but you’d lose out on an easy, free boost to your profession’s rank.”

“Hm,” I grunted. “Yeah, all right.” I was actually kind of excited by the prospect of improving my profession, being a Merchant. It seemed like it would be fun. Certainly safer. Even before the system, it was never running the store that I’d held a grudge against, but rather the manner in which I’d ended up doing so.

All because of that freaking dingo.

Truly, that was not my fault. You ever met a dingo? They’re literally just dogs. They’re not like coyotes or foxes; they’re actual, literal domesticated dogs.

I mean, yeah, sure, some are more unruly than others. How was I supposed to know the specimen I found myself attached to was of that variety? It’s not like it’s rare for dogs to urinate on or eat things they shouldn’t.

Anyway, I’m getting off track.

There were some additional benefits to my owning the store, which explained why none of my bikes or scooters had been stolen. Thanks to my store’s classification as a superstore, nothing for sale could be taken without being purchased, so I wouldn’t have to worry about shoplifting. It had never been a problem in the past, but with gateways being open allowing prospectors to come in from every other civ, it was one less thing to worry about.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I’m going to take a nap,” I told Koren and Vyrania. “If I’m stuck on the Hero Board, I’d like to practice afterward though. Especially Contract.”

“An excellent plan,” Koren said. “Except for the nap bit. How about we cut that out and get straight to training.”

“How about we don’t and say we did.”

“That sounds very boring.”

‌

∎ ∎ ∎

I had an old recliner upstairs which I sometimes napped in, and was planning on doing just that, but didn’t get a chance before I had a visitor. It wasn’t a prospector, but an old friend.

I was so happy to see him that I shouted his name and ran up and hugged him as soon as Vyrania got the bookcase out of the way of the door and let him inside. “Bob!”

“Whoa,” he said. “I’ll have you know I’m a married man.”

I laughed, pulling away. “You’re divorced.”

“Yeah, which means I was a man who was married. A married man.”

“How are you? I was worried you might be injured from the tower.”

“It didn’t hit me.”

“I mean from being in it.”

“I didn’t go inside.”

“You don’t remember being inside the tower?”

“Think I’d remember that.”

“You were…” I began, but then trailed off. I’d lose my mind trying to explain it to him. “Have you seen anyone else? The town seems empty. How did you know I was here?”

“Bunch of folk were makin a ruckus at the beach. Didn’t recognize any of them and this is a heck of a time to get tourists, so I investigated. One of them mentioned your name. Thought I’d come have a gander.”

“Where have you been staying? Wayne’s boat?”

“Yep. You won’t believe the things we saw.”

“I think I would.”

“Who’re the two fruitcakes?” he asked, looking past me at Koren and Vyrania, who were watching us. Koren was grinning like an idiot for some reason.

They did look a bit ridiculous, Koren shirtless with cloth-wrapped hands and wearing pants that looked straight out of a renaissance festival, Vyrania in her leather and metal armor that might give a normal person the wrong impression.

Though Bob was hardly one to talk. Going shirtless was far more normal in this weather than wearing a tartan cap and flannel jacket.

“They’re my friends. Koren and Vyrania.”

“Hello,” Vyrania said.

Koren bowed exaggeratedly. “It’s a pleasure to encounter you in a saner state.”

Bob frowned. “We met before?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “Where are Wayne and Emma?”

Bob eyed me for a long moment. “Keep telling you she’s too young for you.”

“Uh, you’ve never told me that. And I think you have that backwards. She’s older than me. Although only by a couple years, so even that’s not true.”

“She’s older than you? You should start wearing sunscreen. That pretty face ain’t gonna last forever.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“That’s how I know.” He pulled out a vapestick.

I grabbed it from him before he got a chance to puff on it.

He stared at his hand, frowning, then reached into his pocket, pulling out another vapestick. He shook his head. “Maybe I should quit this. Could have sworn…” He trailed off, still shaking his head. “Must be déjà vu. That’s perfectly normal.” He stared a moment longer at the second vapestick, then put it back in his pocket.

I was apparently so fast now that he hadn’t realized I’d taken his stick from him. I was back in my normal clothes, so had pockets again, which I slipped it into.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Where Wayne and Emma are.”

“Oh. Yeah. They holed up on the reserve.”

“What does Jack have to say about that?” Jack Fleming owned the reserve—a small island off the coast—and the company that gave tours that Emma worked for.

“No clue. He’s off in America somewhere.”

“Is that where everyone’s gone?” I asked, hopeful.

“To America? I don’t see why they’d want to. It’s a long trip. Crossing would be dangerous.”

“No, the reserve.”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous in the water. Almost didn’t make it off there.”

“You left them there?”

“Left who where?” he asked absently, pulling out his vapestick again.

I grabbed it. “Your brother and niece!”

“Grouchy. We ain’t inside. You can’t stop me smokin out here.” He grabbed the vapestick back.

“Yes we are inside!”

He looked around. “Oh. Course I didn’t leave them.” He eyed the vapestick, then sighed and put it away again. “They’re with most everyone else at the Grand.”

‘The Grand’ was the Grand Hotel, the one Finnegan Dalton—the obscenely rich ‘spy’—owned, and which the system labeled Finnegan’s Place.

“You just said they were on the reserve.”

“They were. Now they’re at the Grand.”

“Why’d they leave?”

“The beasties can’t attack in there. Safe area or somethin.”

“Oh,” I said, relieved. “Beasties? You mean the corrupted?”

“Nah, they don’t cause much trouble. It’s the big ones that’s the problem.”

“Monsters?”

Bob shrugged. “Suppose. Ones in the ocean are worse. Even crossing over from the reserve to here was dangerous. One followed us and knocked down a few buildings. Then some lady in a fetching outfit knocked its head off.”

“Who?”

“Beats me. She didn’t stick around for smalltalk. Headed out into the swamp. By the sounds I heard last night coming from there, she’s knocking more heads off.”

“You’re staying at Finnegan’s with Wayne and Emma?”

“I don’t trust that spy. I’m on the boat.”

“In the dangerous ocean?”

“Nah. We beached it. I miss being rocked to sleep, but it ain’t bad.” He considered. “Head’s beginning to smell, but not going to risk taking the boat out dumping it.” He took out his vapestick again and this time took a long pull. “Struth,” he eeked out, holding in the smoke, “that’s good.”

I poked my head out the door and looked in the direction of the beach, but while I could see the ocean, I couldn’t see down onto the beach itself to see if his boat or the tower staff were there.

I pulled my head back inside and locked the door. “What—” I began, just as Bob let out his cloud of smoke.

Not wanting to go through the trouble of getting his rank out of him, I inspected him.

Bob Huxley (Human)

Rank: Unranked

Level: 0

“Whoa!” he cried out, jolting, jerking his head side to side looking around, clutching his vapestick to his chest. “Something weird just happened.”

“It’s fine, I was seeing what rank you are.” I could also see his name now, which I assumed was because I already knew it. “You haven’t gotten any cards yet?”

He let out a sigh, considered taking another hit, decided against it. “Those magic things? Emma did. Crazy kid. She shoots fire now.”

“Really?” I asked, intrigued. “I have some fire cards.”

He grunted. “Suppose you can come see her. Her options ain’t great anymore, and I guess you’re not the worst choice. At least you ain’t a sheep.”

“Thanks…”

He shook his head. “I told her to get that scar fixed. Now it’s too late.”

“I doubt a small scar on the chin did anything to affect her prospects.”

“Hm,” he grumbled. “Anyway, I was just stopping by for some beer. Wayne didn’t get a chance to stock the boat.”

“I thought you came by because someone mentioned me.”

He frowned. “No, don’t think I saw anyone. Town’s been empty lately.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “We probably won’t be getting any more shipments, so you should make it last. But you’re welcome to grab some. Don’t think there’s much use for regular money anymore.”

“I ain’t no freeloader.” He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket. It had to be at least ten thousand dollars. Australian, but still, it was a lot.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked.

He looked down at it, then up at me. “My pocket.”

Before I could respond, a piercing scream came from the direction of the ocean.