+Notice! You are no longer granting Stabilized to one target, Mana capacity restored.+

I woke with a panicked start, nearly colliding with a small silhouette hovering over me in the dimness of the Administratum’s light rocks. Moon was waxing, adding a little more definition through the window to the firm and deceptively dainty hand placed on my chest. My left hand went up to grasp the offender, causing both of us to gasp.

Me, because the skin hurt like all the hells combined.

Her, with recognition.

“Blerghk, gah, Maekita, Mae-, is she-,” I blabbered, my tongue feeling fat. Something tasted tangy like copper. Did I bite my tongue earlier?

“Anyone have,” a familiar voice coughed, wheezing softly, “a drink? Preferably, I don’t know, a Malty Manticore with extra chili flakes? And the license plate on the train that hit me?”

“Oh, thank the Ancestors, you’re alive!” Cordo exclaimed. I could hear him practically dive at our Oni friend, imagine the skid across the floor as he tried to not fully crash into her. “How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Did you see anything while close to the Reaper’s grasp?”

“Cordo! That is hardly appropriate!” Lyissa screeched with utmost restraint. “Behave yourself!”

“Jericho, this marking. How? Why?”

Blinking, I looked up to see faintly glowing orange eyes. They seemed to waver. No, it was because of what was collecting at their edges. The droplets of moisture were beginning to roll down her cheeks. Tiny bits of lava bubbling and hissing within the tears, failing to evaporate them as they fell upon my hand as well as Ana’s. It hurt a little bit, but not as much as the sorrow in her eyes. Like I’d struck her out of nowhere.

Prismatic sheen illuminated ever so slightly by the falling embers, an image of a long dragon’s neck adorned with obsidian scales wrapped around my forearm. Its head and jagged smile, crown of horned spikes flaring back and upward, sat atop my hand while an amber eye stared back at me.

I opened my mouth to speak before she pushed me away. The Dragoness stood uncertainly on her splinted leg. We were still close enough that I saw the faintest sliver of the Minor Cripple debuff still active. Also, the fact that it got a few more ticks with every step as she slumped against the wall in the other half of the Prefect’s office not housing the prisoners.

So, I had been out for less than 30 minutes. In that time, I had the conversation with Rook and Maekita was revived somehow.

Somehow.

Bracing both my hands on the Control Nexus, I managed to accidentally activate the Strategic Status screen. Bits of glass display – thankfully not whirring around to julienne my tender flesh – levitated to its active state. Information about inhabitants, resources, Structures, permissions, energy grid, Overworld Network, all this and more was at my fingertips.

There was only one thing I cared about in that moment.

“Set passive resurrection to all beings except my Fireteam to false,” I ordered. A happy green ping alighted. “And reactivate the barriers.”

“Jericho? You’re awake,” Lyissa observed, concern etched across her graceful features. She winced as I gave her a look. A withering glance? A distrustful stare? I wish I hadn’t. And yet here I stood, burdened with a terrible mission. “Maekita is up too, did you-?”

“The System told me my Mana cap was back, I snapped to. What’d I miss?” I cut her off.

“Well, our resident acidbreather moved to your side and nearly bit off my fingers when I tried examining you,” Cordo laughed, shaking his head. “You were making all kinds of odd gestures and expressions. We actually took a bet of what was happening, mine was on an aneurysm, Lyissa your nerves being fried, and Ana on telepathy.”

“Telepathy. Something, someone was on the other side of the Control Nexus. They’re aware of what has been happening, here, in our System,” I related evenly. No sense in panicking. “They said they wanted to help and, well, two for two.”

I patted the Nexus before waving at Mae. She was concentrating on her breathing. Oh, stars below, passive health regeneration was almost negligible at this Level even with above average gear.

“Is Perez still Incap’d?” I asked while making my way over to the violet Oni. Curious, the shade was similar to that inside Rook’s recreation. “First Aid.”

“Yes, but the moon is rising. That might change things violently if he doesn’t have the ability to control himself,” Lyissa reported, inspecting the Nexus for herself. I heard a loud zap noise while treating Mae, then a little red window in the middle of my vision. “It looks like whatever you and your benefactor did brought the Administratum back to life.”

+Warning, Control Nexus aler-!+

“I think you mean restarted collection,” I stated blankly while casting the notification aside, tiny crimson arrow hovering insidiously next to my Health and Mana. The old Triage bandages came off, replaced by freshly crushed green herbs swaddled in gauze cotton. First Aid applied, I reassuringly squeezed my patient’s good shoulder as her Health gradually went back up. “What’s important is that I need to invite you all to what they created for me: a Faction.”

“What did y-?!” Lyissa gasped at first. Clearing her throat, she tried to stifle her shock. “What do you mean? What is that? Like the Arcanocracy?”

“Reaper’s kiss, Lyissa, no, not like them!” I shouted, whipping around with fists clenched.

Advancing on the High Elf, I found myself realizing just how small she was. This woman whom I had seen carve mountains into hills, split wild wyverns into neat little cubes, shield the city from a hurricane by herself for a minute before help came. So, so small as I trudged towards her.

In that moment, the shape of Recursion looming over her weakened state.

“Not… not like them. Working theory, they managed to make their own Faction to get into the System and break it apart,” I quietly backtracked, pointing at the Nexus. Now was not the time. I couldn’t hide all of my emotions towards the Elf, opting to look over the city. “Now we’re left with taking the scraps and trying to put it back together on this side, letting the ‘benefactor’ do what they can from the outside.”

“Outside?” Maekita wondered. “Like, Otherworlder-outside or-?”

“Outside our System. Able to see some of what Recursion did, Administrata going dark. I, well,” I sighed, rubbing the pins and needles out of the nape of my neck, “made an impression.”

I looked between the four conscious comrades of mine. Cordo with his thoughtful pursed lips. Maekita, still in the grips of a stupor, ingesting the situation best she could. Lyissa’s eyes darting between the Nexus and myself, sylvan features betraying nothing behind that perfect, fragile porcelain face. Ana was watching pensively – had her tail still existed it’d no doubt scrape and thump with equal parts agitation and melancholy.

If only Perez were able to provide comedic relief and awaken at that moment, disturb the laws of gravity acting on our situation with his antics. We were poorer for the ?Human?’s absence.

Eyes flicking to the Fireteam roster, I sent out invitations to each individual to join. Rolling up my sleeves, I walked around the opposite side of the Nexus from Lyissa. We shared pointed looks while I nodded outside the office, toward the stairs. She opened her mouth in protest for a moment.

Then smiled.

“I shall keep watch over the lower floors.” Her face was a mask, difficult to spot the way her eyes didn’t agree with how the muscles of her face stretched taut to mimic an innocent gesture. “However, perhaps we can look for other supplies one last time before settling in for the night.”

I had to be a leader. It wasn’t all triumphs and coming out the other side in one piece, Level-up fanfare and feasts. There were hard talks, harder decisions ahead.

Decisions like, knowing what little I knew now, whether or not to trust a friend when they touch a Control Nexus with familiarity.

Later. This took precedence. She was my partner.

“Hey,” I whispered, coming to a stop in front of the sitting Dragoness.

No response. I sat down slowly, legs crossed.

“So. Nearly caught some Orc fingers?”

Faint flicker of a smile.

“I thought that a Draco only defended their treasure with that kind of ferocity.”

Her fingers went up to strain through her hair, undoing the braid. It was a show of perhaps cleaning off dried flecks of blood, stray bits of wood and stone chips. However, convenient that her natural soft pink cheek was also shrouded. Under different circumstances, I might have considered this being coy. However, this brazen female Draco was not the kind of person to hide their emotion, their pride, their conviction.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Damned Dragonkin and their strange eccentricities. Especially this one. Best not think too hard on it. She had lost a portion of her soul with today’s waking nightmare, maybe forever.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you with… this. The emblem,” I said while closing my eyes, dipping my chin downward. Extending my arm towards her, I think it was a sign of submission begging forgiveness to her kind. Or of trust, considering I hoped that I was getting said limb back. “It was the first thing that came to mind on the spot. The only thing that went with a name: Reclamation.”

Sharp nails – not claws, thankfully – started above my forearm. The tail of the glorified tattoo started there. Tracing over individual scales, large as they were, I kept as still as possible. I knew what could happen if those talons came out, almost had to clean off their handiwork from my uniform earlier before Cordo stopped her from butchering the male Terran with the rearranged face.

I kept silent. Her fingertips were surprisingly smooth. I would have expected them to be calloused or hardened.

“Missing the wings,” Ana said quietly.

“Only so much canvas,” I sighed, tension leaving my shoulders. “It’s also a reminder to chase after what’s lost.”

“Ah. The name, yes,” she sighed. The palm of her other hand met mine, letting her fingers continue to follow the design. “It’s very you. Simple and to the point. Lack of flair, like your weapon.”

“Excuse you, Koliastrazana,” I sniffed haughtily, “causing that man’s arm to disintegrate and creating an opening for Cordo was fairly theatrical!”

“You may tell yourself that, I shall allow it,” she chuckled. A giggle. Ahah, I had her! She wasn’t angry at me! “However…”

Ana squeezed my hand between both of hers. Gently. For a Draco. I heard some joints pop like when I had cracked knuckles, but in places that I hadn’t attempted before. It felt oddly satisfying, therapeutic, however such controlled pressure was in and of itself a dire warning.

“No more touching ancient objects of power. You are too frail and hardly able to recover on your own, especially since no one else has the Skills to piece you back together,” she warned, pulling me closer and onto my knees.

“Yes, Ana.”

“Hrrrh,” was all the warning I got before she flicked my forehead.

“Hey! We had an agreement earlier,” I protested while opening my eyes.

+Member added to Faction: Reclamation – Koliastrazana veni Tyveros vici Yanakuronikalavei, Level 5 Draco Assault+

Where there was a murky haze before, there were now twinkling orange irises full of excitement, maybe joy, a dash of hope. We were going to put everything back right, as much as we could.

Reclamation.

Putting the pieces back together best we could, all we can try to do now.

Stars below, one time to name something that might become known across the World and I pick something very ‘me.’

“Fine, maybe I deserved that,” I sighed, shaking my head as she released my limb intact. “But I don’t just want your wings back for your own sake. I’m a greedy Human who loves to fly as much-, no, more than you do.”

For once I left her speechless. Ana’s mouth moved to say something, faded into a smile, looking away. Shaking my head, I went to check on the other two.

“Maybe you are treasure,” she whispered as she tended to her shoulder-length mane of oily sheen over blonde locks.

I don’t know if she thought I was out of earshot or if she did it on purpose, didn’t give her pause. Time was fleeting, especially with the pointy-eared situation I needed to deal with.

///

+Member added to Faction: Reclamation – Cordo Glassjaw, Level 5 Orc Specialist.+

+Member added to Faction: Reclamation – Maekita Suzuchika, Level 5 Oni Assault.+

As I opened my mouth on approaching the pair, both held up their hands before I could speak.

“The way I figure it, I’m ending up either a faithful servant of the new supreme leader or a rogue Demon Giant second-in-command leading the revolution by the end of this,” Maekita said with a mirthful smile. “Maybe both in due time. I’ve probably known you the shortest but you seem like a good guy that doesn’t have it out for world domination for power’s sake.”

“Uhh, thank you, I suppose?” I replied, looking over at the rusty dusted Orc.

“I feel likewise. If you indeed turn rotten, as the saying goes, please feel free to let us know and we shall take care of you accordingly,” Cordo grinned as only an impressively tusked Orc could.

“I feel venerated by your stunning votes of confidence, my conniving underlings,” I noted dryly.

Looking over to the prisoners, it looked like the female Terran with some of her teeth missing was stewing in her failure. Couldn’t tell if the other male who looked like a soggy tomato was even awake yet. That left the Captain, still tied up and unmoving where he lay.

Leaning over, taking some medical supplies from my bag, I stopped between both Narcs.

“First Aid. Start making noise, I can just as easily undo this,” I warned. The woman nearly got a word out before I made a bandage gag, likewise for the male. It was more an experiment to see if I could replace her teeth and restore his face into more cosmetically appealing versions of themselves with basic Skills. “You’re Level 11, he’s 19, and your leader is 22. Right.”

The Captain could rot for a little while longer.

“So ol’ one-arm the guy who did me in?” Maekita asked as her finger approached the gauze patch over what used to be a sizable hole in her side.

“Yes. Don’t touch that.” I hastily puttered and slapped the meaty arm away from my handiwork. For all her talk of once being a frail individual, one would never guess it from how her body easily dwarfed mine, biceps half as thick as my thigh. A walking dream for someone desiring a tall and strong violet Demon-Giant complete with two ornate horns. “Speaking of which, where did-?”

“By the door. I thought it best to stand them up for ease of picking up.” Cordo pointed to a heap of salvaged equipment. Three pistols, two rifles, ammo, the Captain’s special long Firearm. “I believe Lyissa took the Vorpal knife. The only other traces of magic were on the weapon akin to yours.”

“Oh, good, she took the shiniest loot with her!” Mae shook her head. Stopped mid-turn. “Wait, a Vorpal? How the hell?! I thought those were illegal outside of registered Dungeoneering groups?”

“Hrhf, hrfh, hrmfh,” the female Terran tried to laugh through her gag. Cut short by a gentle tap on the head by Cordo’s sheathed Dancing Rapier. “Urkh!”

“It’s disabled, like everything that isn’t partially Tek,” I offered while inspecting the looted equipment. “Working theory at least. EMF most likely had something to do with it.”

All of the bullets were Common Tier, same with the guns. The munitions all looked the same, most were tucked into strips of metal that I assumed were fed into the top of these Firearms. Long guns. Rifles. The soft ping noise as the last shot was fired was the clip being ejected. Distinct enough to listen for, but I could hardly imagine worrying about it with the drill the Narcs had kept up. Even if one or two of their Fireteam was reloading, the others kept up the barrage.

With all the ammunition these three still had, more on the others still down below…

“Oh! That’s right!” Mae announced with a snap. Tiny blue sparks arced into the air in front of her. “EMP. Electromagnetic pulse. EMF sounds a lot like it, especially how it knocked everyone and everything out.”

“Magical flux and magnetic pulse?” Ana piped up. She got up to join me at the small pile of spoils. Stars below, Minor Cripple was almost gone too, that little walk added a small tick. “I do not see the similarity.”

“Back from my Earth, EMP fried the equivalent of Tek that ran the world and the war machines. Like, uh, if you needed to fight at night or needed to use their kind of armored cavalry that ran on Tek, one of those went off?” Mae gestured back and forth before clapping. “It’d be like Mass Dispel on an entire armory full of Darkvision enchanted gear right before getting raided at night, or, I dunno, shearing off Pegasus wings in the stables from a distance.”

Ana stifled a quiet whine, rubbing her arms.

“Oh. Sorry, Koliastra, that was insensitive,” the Oni apologized, downcast.

“It is fine. You may make me feel better by using my full name for a day,” the devious Draco grinned.

“Huh?” Mae scratched her head.

“Don’t mind her. Ana has been begrudgingly compelled into answering to a shorter name than is traditional. Hurrah for cultural progression!” Cordo laughed. He had to quickly catch a rifle that hurtled through the air towards his face, moving toward the window with it. Perfect for being a good distance from the prisoners, able to bring the weapon to bear. “Ah, thank you.”

I flicked Ana on the forehead.

“Jeri!” she squawked, incredulous.

“Sit! Every time you move, the Cripple takes longer to go away,” I warned coldly. Holding the second rifle with the barrel pointed down, I herded the Dragoness with the stock to the wall and tapped on her good leg until she sat with a huff. “Unless you would like me to tie you down, please see if you can use this.”

Leaning down, I scooped up two likely candidates for the proper bullets to use, cozy as they were inside the easily handled clips. Handing one to Ana, lobbing the other to the Orc, I finally set my sights on the last weapon. No special ammunition after stripping all three Terrans of their weapons. That meant it must be the gun itself that almost killed…

I blinked away the memory that tried to surface and took hold of the Marksman Captain’s weapon.

“Diagnose.”

+Diagnose activated. Target is an Arcanotech Winterfield rifle, bolt-action. Runetech: Velocity, Impact, Durability. No special Status conditions. Requires Winterfield stock ammunition.+

Said runes lit up as I touched the gun, once more supplied the contact with a living being to fuel itself. No Mana drain, it was functionally a normal magic weapon. It felt like I could use it. The only problem was that it didn’t seem that the place where bullets went could accept the clip.

“That explains why some of these aren’t together in-,” I muttered to myself before reaching over to tap the rifle Ana was fiddling with, managing to slot in the clip. Her eyes held surprise as her hands expertly carried out the process. “Diagnose.”

+Diagnose activated. Target is a Mark I Grandeur rifle, semi-automatic, wielded by Fireteam member Koliastrazana. No special Status conditions. Requires Winterfield stock ammunition.+

“Oh, that’s some irony. World domination spurred on by delusions of grandeur,” I chuckled darkly. Next of course was my own weapon sitting in its holster. “Diagnose.”

+Diagnose activated. Target is an Arcanotech Lamia handcannon, revolver chamber, wielded by you. Runetech: Aim, Durability. No special Status conditions. Requires Magnum stock ammunition.+

I blinked at the model of the gun. Strange label, naming it after an entire race of magically gifted Monsterfolk that had a stereotype for vigorously seeking male affection. It was definitely good at emulating the former talent for showstopping demonstrations, stealing a glance over at the Captain’s lack of forearm.

Last but not least I tapped a pistol and whispering the word which revealed the secrets of the universe.

+Diagnose activated. Target is a Mark I Bolt pistol, single chamber. No special Status conditions. Requires any stock ammunition.+

“Strange. Looks like this little thing is able to accept anything,” I noted aloud.

“A fitting last resort if separated from one’s other armaments,” Cordo said, firmly slapping the clip into his new gun and twirling it like a baton. “Curious. It feels like I’ve used one of these boomsticks my entire life.”

“They must have rewritten proficiencies to equip as many bodies as they could in that sliver of a window Recursion created,” I sighed, standing the Winterfield back against the wall. “This here is like my handcannon. Doesn’t appear to have any prerequisites.”

“Should we perhaps draw lots for it as is traditional for Dungeon rewards?” Ana expressed with a twinkle in her eye. Despite it being the cause for her mangled leg, it did not dissuade her from seeing the weapon’s utility. If anything, it encouraged her Dragonkin’s greedy nature.

“Never change, Koliastrazana,” Maekita laughed while producing a twenty-sided die from her breast pocket. She had the same hungry glint eyeing the silent weapon responsible for her grief as well. “However, I might try and arm wrestle you for it. I might win now.”

I shook my head while Cordo clapped, grinning ear to ear.