Ana was still passed out by the time we had finished hauling the four bodies up to the Prefect’s office. Thankfully a quick search through our original storage saferoom yielded hempen rope sturdy enough to secure the three Terrans still alive. Splitting the prisoners on either side of the doorway, I had unceremoniously shoved the Captain into the far right corner of the room.

“Diagnose,” I said, making my way to where we’d deposited Perez next to Ana.

+Diagnose activated. Target is Fireteam member Perez Karish, Level 5 ?Human? Specialist. Specialist Skill: Triage active causing Incapacitated due to ?Human? Racial Feature. Would you like to cancel Triage?+

“No, no I would not,” I sighed, moving to sit on the floor next to where Ana slept fitfully. Again, like with the Scroll, the circumstance of something existing and only knowing what it was beforehand left us in the dark. “The good news is that Triage is acting indefinitely on Perez to treat his affliction. The bad, it’s considered an affliction and we just don’t know how the System changed him. Us.”

Despite the combat state we were still in – maybe constantly in, this was a Warzone after all – I didn’t feel tired. My wounds had been healed, Mana at its currently reduced maximum, and so too the others. Aside from Maekita’s dire condition, the rest of us were passively regaining all of our Health.

Night upon us, all there was to do was wait in the silence of the Prefect’s office.

In the middle of the room, overlooking a view of Greenharbor out towards the ocean, a stone pedestal with glass screens rested in neat piles. The few times I had stolen a look, their active appearance was a large array of the magical devices floating in air, presumedly reacting to the Prefect’s thoughts and requests. From there they could monitor the Viridian Tundra – not to the individual, but enough to notice region trends, communicate with Observers and Seekers via Scroll or Tablet, and connect with the other Administrata buildings. Ours happened to be an ancient tower which the city naturally developed around.

Now it was silent, not a trace of the two most important people or their aides best equipped to solve our predicament.

“Considering the tame reaction I got from trying to use that Scroll earlier, Lyissa,” I idly thought aloud, “I’m not sure I want to try and touch the Prefect’s favorite toy.”

“A wise decision. However, I do not believe either of us need to be touching the object to Analyze or Diagnose – is that it?” she responded, leaning against the doorway to keep watch over what sounds might come from the atrium stairs. “It would not hurt to try, if it is dead.”

“What I would give for a working Tablet!” My wish went unheard as I placed my face in my hands, massaging out fresh worry lines. “What gets me is why the Arcanocracy went directly to aggression as opposed to some, I don’t know, diplomatic venture?”

“If that individual is an accurate representation of the greater majority of its population,” Cordo interjected, pointing at the decommissioned Captain, “they might be sharing a mass psychosis. The desire to be home or rejoin loved ones might be too much to think rationally about.”

I frowned at the Orc while Lyissa shifted her weight, equally curious.

“Not that anyone asked, but I was born in the World as well,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “As my sire recalled, my clan became sentient generations on generations ago only after an Otherworlder that had attained a Ruler Class ‘uplifted’ them.”

“So your ancestors are-,“ I realized, eyes widening.

“Artificial creations of the System. Or so the Terrans might understand. All I know is that today my clan dies and comes back in the same way as everyone else does, pays the same price to the Reaper,” Cordo sighed, turning to look over the darkened city and sea beyond. “However, the Administratum being silent is most troubling. I do not know if you looked, but expired individuals are still here in body.”

“The ones who were killed earlier?” Lyissa wondered, half-turning as if she wanted to look now. “Then Resurrection is not possible in the Viridian Tundra. Or at least within 50, 75 miles?”

“I think that is accurate, it’s been so long since I read the research logs,” I nodded.

“Je-… Jer…”

I looked down, seeing Ana’s hand twitch and move around.

“Ana? Hey, you’re awake,” I said softly, taking hold of the scaled fingers. At least, the tops of her knuckles and most of the hand, up the forearm, were covered in faintly iridescent natural armor. The undersides were still that soft strawberry color. “It looks like you’re healing well. The Minor Cripple is almost expired.”

“Jeri… I-, I-, come closer,” she murmured, eyes still closed. I would be tired as well, given the grievous blow she walked into.

“What is it? Don’t tell me there’s some Secret Status you got hit with,” I said worriedly, shifting to lean over her figure.

Her fingers wrapped around my collar. I expected her to merely draw me in close.

+Status warning! Stun threshold reached! You are Stunned!+

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

My vision swam as I tried to reel backwards. Stars and empty voids filled my vision, kept from wavering by the firm grip on my uniform. I’d taken a tiny sliver of damage. Most of my higher brain functions still worked but my body was locked up, much like how the condition worked previously.

Gently – for a pissed off Draco female – shaken back and forth, Ana’s withering glare was the sole focus of my hampered senses.

“You. Are. Not. My. Mate,” she enunciated carefully, each word accompanied by me being rattled in a clearly restrained manner. “None have the honor of using my name in such derivative manner, Jeri.”

“Th-then, w-why, d-d-do, yo-oou, use mine, li-ike that?” I mumbled, regaining some measure of control over myself. I was at least able to hold onto the hand which was feeding me such tender affection.

Pausing, I swore I saw her face, minimally accentuated by the obsidian flecks of her Draconic nature, grow ever that much redder.

“We-well, you’ve never asked me to stop! It’s nothing to address a non-Draco in such manner, all of you do so without chastisement,” Ana stammered, looking at a bemused Cordo and Lyissa massaging her temple. “Heartfire take me, have you been doing so because you were somewhat insulted as well?!”

Letting go, I had enough time to support myself from potentially landing on her leg. I wasn’t ready to test whether or not pain was dulled during the healing process, especially with a woman who could easily tear off my own leg and beat me with it.

“No, Liastra,” I began, using the proper address, “however I’ve been using ‘Ana’ because-“

Her eye twitched.

“-brevity has been necessary in the past hour or two that we’ve been at this new problem of ours. In case you haven’t noticed, the weapon of choice for the moment only takes a squeeze of the fingers to cause death and destruction,” I finished, meeting her indignance with as much cold logic I could muster. “A fact that, since Mae has informed us of these machineguns, you need to be taking to heartfire sooner than later. Relying on whatever you have been is going to last only so long before you…”

The words stuck in my throat. Eyes watered, I had to look away from her. My gaze passed over to Cordo in an attempt to look like I was addressing the city’s situation. This stupid overgrown lizard, running headfirst into danger like she normally did.

“Ahem, before someone is put in a difficult position. I’m the only one that can perform Restoration,” I added quietly.

Inwardly, my mind echoed with an empty chuckle. The plan tonight to hit all our usual watering holes, crawling from pub to pub, sampling the poison of the day, seemed so, so far away.

“I for one see the merit in a shortened name, as much as it pains me to ignore your customs, Koliastrazana,” Lyissa offered with an apologetic smile. I wouldn’t have thought the High Elf would rule in my favor. “Ana also is more favorable than the other name I’ve heard your sire used for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” the Draco intoned, equal parts furious and terrified.

“Ohoh, another name?” Cordo guffawed. “One that elicits such a delectable reaction. Do tell, Lyissa!”

“No! No-no-no-no, no! Ana is fine!” the Draco almost shot to her feet, firmly led back to sitting upright by me. I wasn’t going to let her undo my work. Grumbling with a pout, she let go of me with a gentle shove against my chest. She frowned for a moment. “But I want to be called by my proper name every day. Once. At least.”

“That appears to be a deal then!” Lyissa clapped, pushing off the wall toward the silent pedestal. “Now, let’s look at the Prefect’s station, now that you’re up.”

“I wish I could fix things like I could with my previous Levels!” I bemoaned, starting to stand. “What I’d give for those journeyman-range Features to make this possible.”

Ana reached out to stop me, pulling on my hand. I was half-afraid of receiving another headbutt until she started undoing something on my uniform jacket.

“What? Is there something-?” was my confused response.

“Jericho, you doddering fool,” she sighed, finally opening a pocket. My breast pocket. “Did something strike your head as we were fleeing earlier? Or has that magnum revolver thing made fumes that you cannot resist inhaling.”

“I don’t see the need for insults to my intelli-“

Ana pulled out my Tablet, tapping my chin with it before leaning back to sit with a wince.

The spot I usually carried it in, tucked next to my heart. A joke was that it might block a Spell or something from killing me if I placed it there.

“I am inclined to agree with Ko-, Ana, you are quite the fool for being so forgetful,” Lyissa huffed, the faintest smirk at the edge of her mouth.

Cordo had the tact, which he dared lecture me about, to laugh.

“Diagnose,” I growled, taking the Tablet.

+Diagnose activated. Target is an Arcanotech SysTablet. Warning! This item is damaged. Your Arcanotechnician can attempt to repair it. Would you like to use Skill: Hotfix?+

“Hotfix!” I sighed in exasperation.

I had a sudden desire to obtain a blunt object. The first thing to come to mind was the handle of my handcannon.

“Jericho, what are you-?!” Lyissa cried out as my fingers wrapped around the gun in its holster, flipping it end over end to hold it wrong by the barrel.

“I don’t know, it said to use a Skill!” I replied with a shocked glance. My limbs refused to follow directions.

Revolver raised like an executioner’s axe, SysTablet in the other hand…

Clink!

At some point I’d closed my eyes. Feeling returned to me and immediately I dropped the handcannon on Ana – protesting with a growl as it landed very close to her splinted leg – to inspect the item.

It was working.

My name, my race, Class and Level, some incomprehensible text where Attributes were supposed to be, it was almost all there.

Of course, half of the glass-like screen was now cracked. Spiderweb-like lines extended from where the disingenuously named Hotfix had been applied. Using the arrow keys – arrow keys? – on the keyboard – keyboard? – I navigated to the Skills tab and found the duplicitous ability.

+Skill: Hotfix. Attempt to repair an item or object utilizing durability, not above destroying the item or object, as substitute for missing materials or relevant Proficiency. Most common activation cue is the act of percussive maintenance.+

“Destroy part to repair all,” I said, dumbfounded. Lyissa came up to me, taking the SysTablet to see for herself.

“My name and Class are here!” the Elf announced happily. “It’s not just bound to you, a new functionality! Though, curious… ‘Firebase Aura?’ Is that currently active?”

I decided to sit next to the Prefect’s pedestal station device thing. An oppressive dread was lifted off my shoulders. It felt like I could finally be tired. Surveying the three disabled Terrans quickly reminded me this was not the case, but at least now we had the means to understand just that little bit more of the madness they had perpetuated.

“Jericho, it has a dictionary for terms,” Cordo announced, holding up our thin little slate of salvation. “We can restore Maekita.”

“That’s good. Very good!” I nearly jumped. Until I saw the Orc’s grim expression. “What?”

“We need to bring the Administratum back to life first.”

Reaper’s shroud, some things never change.