Yesterday had been a bloodbath. Half the people she’d been training up had died.

And the public had celebrated. Because they didn’t know.

Oh, sure, the fact that there were casualties was known, and they’d learn the names of the dead when the memorial was erected, but that wouldn’t reveal everything.

The BPA was largely operating under similar protocols as special forces. General knowledge was available, and they didn’t try to stop it since they really couldn’t prevent all information from leaking out, but everything else was kept under wraps. People knew they existed, people knew their mission statement, and they’d soon also know she was in charge.

But their numbers average power levels, maximum power levels, unit compositions once they had enough people to create multiple distinct groups with a pre-chosen Class set, all of that would be as private as they could mention.

And therefore, who would know how many people had been in the fight? How many people had survived compared to the number of the dead?

People would assume it had been a glorious victory, that there’d been a hundred people who’d worked together to win, because that was infinitely more comforting than believing that the shield meant to protect them had been cracked straight down the middle.

The only thing that wasn’t fully awful about the current situation was how there wouldn’t be an endless flood of inquiries of armchair chiefs trying to explain to her how she could have done better when their own times in the fields were decades in the past if it existed at all, and without a lick of practical experiences in the current world.

But even if someone in the gutted government had tried something, Jaclyn knew for a fact that Frye would have crushed them with every iota of power and influence that he could bring to bear.

Officially, no blame would land on her shoulders.

Unofficially, she’d be the first to point the finger at herself, even in full awareness of how irrational that was.

But she couldn’t help feeling bad. Being a police officer was inherently dangerous, she’d lost friends and colleagues before, but this was the first time she’d been in charge of the operation that had killed them. And that sucked, it really did.

She knew about all the reasons why she shouldn’t feel guilty, ranging from the fact that she’d done her best, been in just as much danger as everyone else had been, to the fact that the alternative to that operation would have been a nuke. A nuke that may or may not have worked depending on how precise their targeting information was.

She knew all that, but she wasn’t a robot, some perfectly logical alien from some sci-fi show, or experienced enough at this job to have gone through this before.

It hurt, it really did, some more than others. And yet, sometimes, the thing that hurt the most was when it didn’t hurt, that she’d barely known some of the people who’d died and would never get the chance to know them.

But also, when she wasn’t busy with self-flagellation over not getting to know her subordinates, it was the people she did know who were at the forefront of her mind. Mostly Holmes and Evans.

Holmes had created a Class, a power that would likely transform humanity’s future trajectory. Because he’d been a combat engineer who built model trains as a hobby, his Skills had all been about building stuff. But at first, he’d been so embarrassed to admit that he liked model trains because that somewhat clashed with the tough-guy facade he normally had up.

Eventually, though, he’d decided to wear his colors proudly, because screw it, he’d just created a fucking Class and it bloody well worked!

And Evans, well, he’d probably been the person she’d felt the most kinship to, another person with the Anima Monk who really loved the Class, spending a lot of time trying to understand the animal he’d chosen as his bond to use it to its fullest.

After hitting E-Rank, he’d also gained a habit of transforming and sleeping in random places, simply because finding a soft spot big enough for his human body was a lot harder than using a random pillow.

It had been adorable … except that one time that Harper had sat on him. Evans really shouldn’t have fallen asleep on a couch that was almost the exact same shade of brown as his fur. That had just been plain funny at the time, but now, the memory just hurt.

As did the power she’d gained. She knew it hadn’t been her fault, that it hadn’t been bought with their blood, but it still didn’t feel good.

Name: Jaclyn Abrams

Race: Human

Class: Anima Monk

D-Rank, Level 0 -> 5/20

Class Abilities

Spirit Bond: Honey Badger (F-Rank)

Spirit Projection (E-Rank)

Ancient Bond: Haast’s Eagle (D-Rank)

Statistics (0 points available)

Body: 150 -> 195

Magic: 15

Mind: 125

Spirit: 124 -> 204

Skills

Pugilism 31 -> 33

Fist of Indomitable Badger 31 -> 35

Athletics 30 -> 31

Situational Awareness 30

Bullshit Radar 19

Martial Arts 32 -> 34

Alternate Skill Set (currently inactive, switch unavailable)

Mana Control 7

Utility Magic 6

Ballance 14

Breathing 10

Inspect 7

Movement 5

***

The growth at D-Rank was meant to be slow, but she’d basically skipped a full quarter of it, and every single Level had given her a whopping twenty-five points, which she’d likely overinvested into Spirit. But the boost to her toughness and reflexes in particular made her feel like a whole other person.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Jaclyn sighed. She’d already made an appointment to talk to a shrink, and until that time, she’d just keep moving onwards.

Soon she reached Frye’s office and entered.

“Everything squared away?” he asked.

“Everything I can do right now,” she shrugged, then eventually asked.“Are you sure it was a good idea to let Daedalus loot the sanctuary?”

Frye shrugged. “If anyone had thought about it ahead of time, we’d have prepared to go after it the second she died. But we didn’t, and quite frankly, I’m not sure we have the capability to loot it. Not anymore, and not for a few more weeks.”

Jaclyn flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Frye sighed. “You should have seen me after my first time being in charge of an … of something like that. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’re holding up well. If you ever need to find someone to talk …”

“Thank you,” Jaclyn sighed and shook her head. “Already made an appointment.”

“Took me a month to take that leap,” Frye admitted before changing the topic back to the original. “You’re sure that Daedalus can’t use the stuff in the sanctuary, right?”

“Gula said he can’t use any of the elixirs and most magical items won’t work for him either. But she can’t guarantee that he can’t use anything,” Jaclyn reminded him.

“Remember what he said during the meeting, about how he can’t really fuck us over in any major way because if he gets a reputation for being untrustworthy, he’ll fuck himself over for centuries to come?” Frye asked. “I don’t think he’ll go too far.”

Jaclyn stroked her chin thoughtfully.

“Actually, is he going to steal everything? I mean, if he isn’t going to screw us over, ever …” she trailed off.

“Did he, though?” Frye asked. “I mean, that was such an obvious part of ‘all loot’, and we’ll get an infinite number of replicas of everything he managed to get his hands through loot.”

Jaclyn shrugged. “Is it wrong that I’m sort of glad we missed that trick?”

“Honestly, I shudder to imagine what our government would have done with cultivation resources,” Frye admitted. “It would probably have been better than what Fields did, but everything else …”

“No, imagine what would have happened when those resources ran out,” Jaclyn suggested.

Frye blanched. “You know what, suddenly, I’m actually really happy that we’re using a System and can’t make cultivators.”

“We?” Jaclyn asked.

Frye shrugged. “Logos Mage. What can I say, I like the multitasking, though my magic sucks.”

“Good luck with that,” Jaclyn said. “But I think we do need to get some proper work done now.”

“Yeah, we do,” Frye sighed and swept a series of papers to the side before pulling up another folder. “So, where are we on making a proper armory of magical gear.”

“Well, we need more gravity boots, but mine broke …” Jaclyn began.

The whole meeting took a couple of hours. Foster showed up about half an hour in, having finished a job of her own and knowing that they’d soon reach a topic concerning her field of authority.

Once that was done, she headed out to take care of some other stuff.

“Oh, could you talk to the guys in R&D so that they can finally get us that list of what of Alaxia’s should enter the loot pool?” Jaclyn asked Granger as he passed her in the corridor.

“I thought he was going to just add what could be useful?” he asked.

“We didn’t define ‘useful’ in the contract, and we could probably get some use out of any part of her. He asked for a list, so we’re going to give it to him.”

Granger winced. “Knowing Daedalus, he’d take that as an invitation to make the Alaxia loot dropping an entire body on whoever looks like they’d shriek the loudest.”

Actually, that sounded exactly like something he’d do, Jaclyn realized. Silly without being destructive, or particularly malicious.

For an utterly alien creature that built deathtraps, Daedalus’ sense of humor was surprisingly human. As was his understanding of the word “cute”.

What did all that say about the Dungeon Core? How human was he?

And what was Deadalus’ mental age?

Still, all that was a question for later.

For now, she’d make sure the arrangements for the funerals and memorial were done, take a couple of days to get the next group of trainees ready, and then, finally, she’d drive up to Manchester and give Eve a long hug. And probably wind up letting the little moppet have a truly absurd amount of candy.

***

Chances were, the British government hadn’t intended to give him all the loot in Alaxia’s lair too, but they hadn’t told him not to, and it really had been all but printed on the contract they’d signed when agreeing to kill her together.

He’d get all the loot.

And besides, he’d be giving the useful stuff to delvers who earned it. Of those who amused him. Or if someone brought him something cool, be it an item, an animal part, or just a cute costume for one of his creatures.

Also, it had cost him hundreds of monkeys to reach the treasure hall. The humans outside would probably have either failed or given up once the casualties reached an unacceptable level.

Now, though, it was just a matter of counting the loot, so to speak. Large creatures under Jan’s control were carrying stuff to the Dungeon while small loot was just being directly transferred by the monkey.

“Okay, so these things need labels, wrong person drinks these and they’ll pop,” Elias announced while flying above a series of potion bottles. “I have no idea why she had all of these, but these are restoration potions for free qi, mana, chakra, and reiki. Actually, the reiki one works for everyone, since reiki is a purely physical energy, it’s a combination healing and energy restoration potion that’ll fix exhaustion in non-reiki users.”

“Free qi?” Thomas asked.

“You can’t use it to expand your cultivation base, but it’ll fix the exhaustion of using up all the qi that normally freely floats in your core,” Elias explains as he flitted over to another series of vials, these humming with power.

“Bloodline elixirs, you should get someone to drink one of these just to see their faces.”

“Why?” Thomas deadpanned.

“Basically, if a System user had or gets a cultivation bloodline, they can’t use it because you need qi for almost all the bloodline abilities to work, because they need to be folded into your cultivation base. On a System user, you’ll just get the physical upgrades and changes. A black turtle bloodline will make you tougher but only in the spots where the shell grows, an azure dragon bloodline will give you cool hair and make you a little more resistant to lightning, and so on.”

“Basically, it’s a skin,” Thomas observed.

“No, it’s blood,” Elias insisted.

Thomas started to laugh.

“Not actual skin-skin, it’s something out of a video game. Something that changes your appearance because it looks cool but doesn’t change much of anything.”

“Pretty much,” the fairy shrugged. “Back on Dretolara, people would pay a lot for cosmetics. I’m guessing the people here are similar?”

“Yep,” Thomas agreed.

There were a lot of cultivation resources here, but ones that were also useful for monsters like Alaxia. Apparently, there was quite a lot of overlap.

Then you had various bits of gear, but far fewer than Thomas had expected. Ten full suits that registered as “Imperial Guardsman Parade Armor, B-Rank” and appropriate weapons, that he would only be handing out once there were people who could use them. But that was it.

That sort of made sense, this was a refuge for her alone since only a teleporter could bring her here, but it was a little disappointing to him. He’d have loved to get his hands on a bunch of high-Level gear, even if he couldn’t use any of it.

Still, he was almost halfway to C-Rank, thanks to Alaxia, and he had a ton of books to read from her library, he’d come out of this with plenty of loot and other gains.

Then, he reached a new room, and froze. Well, Jan did, Thomas’ mind just threw up a blue screen of death. It was a massive bit of machinery, too big to ever carry away, and he wanted it.

So, with great reluctance, Thomas reached out with his domain, built a narrow tunnel to the refuge, and absorbed it in its entirety.

It would have made it so much easier if he’d done it from the start, admittedly, but he’d just blown all the accumulated domain expansion potential since the beginning of D-Rank. Sure, he hadn’t needed it yet, he had plenty of space available, but honestly, he wasn’t the biggest fan of needing to wait to dig his core in any deeper.

And suddenly, he knew exactly what that was. Alaxia’s teleporter, the thing that had snatched her up when she’d been at the brink of death, saving her life, and deposited her here, just in time for this jungle to be smashed down onto Earth and her to be fused with a human.

But it was so much more, his domain told him. It needed to be upgraded with the body parts of creatures that were “dimensional anchors”, creatures so powerful that they could hold reality around themselves stable, to become a “vortex controller”. Something that could create and control inter-dimensional gates and other means of spatial travel.

Hold on, he’d read something about both of those in this book over here, it had looked so interesting that he’d read the first few pages, let’s see … ah, here.

“Traversing Reality,” by “author unknown.”

“Dimensional anchors are powerful creatures whose mana or equivalent energy flows into their surroundings, stabilizing it, allowing it travel through portals in its entirety, take off from the original world as a mystic realm, or endure spatial storms. Their body parts can be powerful components for devices dealing with dimensionalism, even when they themselves do not hold related powers.”

That … okay, honestly, that explained a lot about how the jungle had survived the supposed collapse of the multiverse.

And the second passage was just the cherry on top.

“Vortex controllers are the ultimate guardians of a planet’s portal-based capabilities, acting as a sentinel protecting the world from hostile invaders. They are even able to redirect existing portals when necessary. However, the construction of a vortex controller requires an extreme amount of resources, including vital organs from at least five dimensional anchors.”

That sounded nice, didn’t it? It would likely be a while before he needed something like this, but he could probably really use it later on.

And what do you know, manifesting a copy of Alaxia’s heart in a slot near the base of the machine, it almost instantly crystalized and the machine began to hum a little louder. Pretty cool. Now, Thomas had to get his hands on the bodies of the other dimensional anchors, just so that he could complete the set. After all, there were other magical areas out there, and they had to have anchors too, right?

Oh, a whole new adventure to have, of governments to bribe, people to empower so that they could kill these monsters for him, and maybe he could even figure out how to travel himself.

The world was his oyster, and his dungeon powers were his … er, what the fuck did you open oysters with? Your hands? Knife? Special oyster shucking tool he was too dumb to know about?

What the hell, that wasn’t the point. Adventure was!

***

Somewhere in the depths of a dead Empress’ sanctuary, a device was going crazy. It looked like a cross between a gyroscope and a solar system model that half a dozen dictionaries of languages that didn’t use the English alphabet had thrown up on.

No one currently alive or dead on planet Earth could have properly analyzed the machine itself, but the hologram above it was meant to be understood, and its statement was alarming.

“Dimensional Cracks detected. Imminent Dimensional Incursions detected in eight spots.

“Foreign invasion imminent, Vortex Controller required.

“Time remaining: 1.334 local years.”