Five hours later, we had made three miles of progress. I could see the spires of the city of Scylla poking up through the jungle.

The weather had cleared up. The enormous slopes of the giant volcano had come out to play. Scylla ran right up onto the southern flanks of the volcano. Its architecture was a bizarre mixture of onion domes, pagodas, and weird Christmas tree shaped buildings that were a series of rounded pyramids placed atop each other. Some of the buildings looked to be 10 or 12 stories high and I thought I could make out people flying between them, though from this distance it was impossible to be sure.

We had mostly avoided entanglements. Mak’gar’s chat had thirty different team representatives in it now, all of us more or less playing fair with each other. Over half the starting teams had been eliminated, but everyone who was left was a lot better.

We had lost a few party members to small skirmishes as we made our way eastward into the depths of the island, reclaiming them at the next respawn. Right now, fourteen of us were huddled up together studying our next challenge. Poor Ice Spice had never managed to catch up to us. He kept getting ambushed and killed, respawning at graveyards nowhere near the rest of the team. So far, he had died every single respawn cycle, and when he wasn't dead, he was complaining. I had muted him from my chat for now.

The problem we faced was a river. It hadn't been on our maps, but it flowed southward from the interior of the island, cutting across our path. It was about 300 feet wide, slow moving, murky, looking like it harbored all sorts of unfriendly creatures. Worse than that, I could see blue dots mixed with a couple of red ones on the far side of the river. The dots held their positions. I didn't know if the red ones were people we had offended, like the Grignarians. It might be the space elves who had tried to kill us earlier, or any of the people who had ambushed us.

The way the six groups of miners I could see on my map were set up, I was sure they were blockading the river. I checked what I was calling the "overly sanctimonious warriors bragging party" privately, and saw several of us were in the same situation.

Is going north around the river an option? Ang’kar asked.

Negative. The river starts at a range of cliffs that go north from there to the sea. There are ambushers atop the cliffs waiting to attack. This looks like the last hurdle before we reach the cities. From there, it is a short distance to our objective.

One of the warriors I hadn't met yet, named Adotin, reported, I sent scouts and they were all shot down before getting anywhere near the encampment.

I filled Grandpa in on the situation. He was studying the river and the situation beyond with a pair of binoculars he'd borrowed off of Jones.

"We've got to get across the river," I said.

Grandpa grunted, "Yep, sure do."

The thirty warriors in my chat channel represented more than four hundred actual fighters. Based on the reports, we outnumbered the griefers camping on the far side. "How did they get across so fast and set up like this?" I asked in a group chat, thinking maybe that would give us an explanation.

They must have had flying machines, Mak'gar said. To bring those into the map is exceedingly expensive. Only the best-backed consortiums can afford it. I think the top end have decided to block the rest of us out. It will prevent us from gaining the crafting recipes necessary. These rich assholes can afford whatever price the master crafters put on supplies. If they're successful here, they will have a distinct advantage in Phase Three.

That was not going to happen. Not when getting a bunch of new crafting recipes and setting up as many humans as possible to sell gear to aliens looked like our best bet to get out of debt slavery any time this century.

We've got to bust up their ranks, I said. If we could get a few people back behind their lines and smash through, it might give the rest of us an advantage.

Sure, but how are we going to get across the river? one of the aliens asked. Anybody got a rowboat in their pocket? I asked facetiously, then, realizing that it might not be as funny as all that, sent a message to Juana and to Arjun’s manager, Kirin, asking them to canvas their contacts and to spread the word that I was looking for a way to get across the river.

Sage had been looking at the river this whole time. "I think there's crocodiles in there," she said.

"Wouldn't surprise me."

"And I saw a hippo."

"Maybe they'll start a fight," I said.

"That's kind of what I was thinking. We could use them for a distraction. Lakshmi, you've got that [Bad Trip] spell, right? And I've got my Lasso with Tame. If we could find a few more people with similar abilities..."

I got what she was saying. "You're right. I'm going to pass that word along, see if we can coordinate something." I sent a message to the warriors chat.

A few minutes later, Kirin got back to me. Arjun has a contact who has a contact who has a coalition member who's apparently about half a mile north of you. He's got a fan boat in his inventory.

Tell him to get to me and we'll see that his team makes it across the river, I promised.

Copy.

I looked at my map again. The camps were set up in such a place that anyone who died on this side of the river or beside the camps would respawn back on this side of the river at a graveyard about a quarter mile away. "Whatever happens, we've got to get through those camps, move to fight to the far side if possible. Then if we die, we respawn over by the city," I said. "Everyone understand what I mean?"

"Roger," Jones replied. "That's pretty clear."

The warriors chat reported we now had fifteen different miners willing to try to help with the distraction plan. I detailed Sage and Lakshmi to join up with them, to our north.

I checked and saw a green dot approaching. Must be the man with the boat. I stood up and waved him in. He was a red-faced, slightly overweight, balding guy with a messy t-shirt and a pair of jeans that didn't really fit him that well anymore strapped around his waist by a worn leather belt. "The name's Bud," he said, holding out his hand to shake. He had a deep southern drawl and as I shared contact info with him, I saw his class was [Swamper].

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"Got this here swamp boat. It was in my garage when I got took. The motor was in six different pieces at the time, fortunately for me, because I was rebuilding it. So I brought it all along, found someone to fix it up here."

He pulled a crate out of thin air, staggering a little under the weight. I gave him a hand. We unpacked all the pieces and I gave a whistle. There was a lightweight metal chassis and detachable bench seats, which he’d taken apart. The engine was actually a big fan motor that fit in the back and would push the boat along. It was in three pieces, but putting it back together didn’t look too hard.

It was going to be noisy as hell, slower than hell, and exposed as hell. But it ought to hold eight or ten miners. "We're going to need someone who can stop projectiles hitting us while we travel," I said both aloud and in my warrior chat group. And we're going to need people with good mobility and high damage skills. If we can get across the river and take out the closest camp, we can then spread out, take the next two. At that point, we can hold a beachhead and bring all our people across. Whatever happens, I don't want more than three members of any team going. The rest should keep their heads down and stay safe. Remember, it's alright if some of us die, as long as one member of every team is alive for the next respawn window.

I got a bunch of short agreements in the chat. We'll launch from here. This boat's going to take a bit of time to set up, but we want the distraction a little ways upstream. So let's get that team assembled now.

Of course I gave myself a place on the boat. Where else would I be? Grandpa claimed a spot too, due to his combat agility and his helpful buff, War Chief’s Aegis, that would make the raiding team faster and harder to hit. Shen there was a disagreement between him and one of the orcs who wanted to go as well, he pulled rank.

In the end, eight of us crowded into the boat, waiting for the go signal from the distraction team. I checked my mini-map and saw three of the blue dots from the closest camp peel off and head north, just as Sage sent me a message. It's go time! followed by I tamed a hippopotamus! This is so great!

"Go!" I told my team, and we shoved the boat out from an overhanging bank into the lazy, tepid stream. The fan switched on, deafening me. We slowly turned in the water, drifting toward the bank. Bud adjusted things, and we inched out into the stream.

It felt like we were being swept downstream two feet for every one we made it across. We were sitting ducks. All the time I was waiting for a barrage to start, but nothing happened. The nearest dots just sat there, probably distracted by what was going on elsewhere.

Meanwhile, upstream, there was fury and commotion. Sage relayed some of it to me. Jones is letting us all look through his drone. It's awesome. There's alligators everywhere. One just chomped an orc lady's leg off. My hippopotamus ran over a mole man. I think he was shorter than me. I don't think it was a kid, though. You don't think they let kids become professional reality engine exploit miners, do you?

We're almost there, I told Sage. Gotta go. I prepared myself to leap out onto the opposite bank.

There was a ripping sound, and Bud looked down. "Uh-oh. Didn't see that rock. Better jump for it," he said.

Two of the orcs, Mak'gar and one of his kin, stood up. "No, wait," I said as the boat tipped and tilted. Mak'gar windmilled his arms, trying to stay in, and a second later, we were all in the mucky water.

Fortunately, it was only about waist deep. I waded ashore in disgust, glad that my revolver and rounds no longer cared about things like mud.

"Incoming!" Apparently, the boat capsizing had at last got the attention of the nearest camp of griefers. The one to our south was moving this way, too. "Let's go," I shouted, charging up the bank, half a dozen angry warriors at my heels. Grandpa cast his Aegis buff, one of the abilities he had gotten after his evolution to Last War Chief.

I suddenly felt taller, stronger. My heart was emboldened as I felt thousands of years of warrior ancestors congratulating me. I was the keeper of a proud warrior tradition, a member of the U.S. Army, the finest descendant of Plains Indians, of Conquistadors, of Inca, of exiled Welshmen who'd come to America looking for a new life, of every sort of scrapper out there. I was racing into battle besides my orcish and foxy brethren, knowing they had my back. This was what I was born to do!

We crushed through the underbrush and fell on the enemy waiting for us on the other side, a pair of space elves and an orange lizardfolk. My Barrage struck the lizardfolk in the chest, knocking him back. I reloaded and fired again, but my last shot hit a body already despawning as the three melted under our onslaught.

"Reinforcements from the south!" I shouted, turning to face them as they charged in. The ground beneath me shook, rocks split, the trees overhead swayed. Our attackers must have an earthquake spell.

I covered my head as coconuts rained down from the branches over me. They smashed down, knocking Mak'gar's cousin to the ground. He despawned in an instant. Those coconuts were deadly.

A spike whip materialized from nowhere, catching Silver Fox around his midsection and squeezing, and knocked him off his feet. He was dragged back toward the underbrush.

I crashed after him, my gun reloaded, and fired a Trick Shot at the enemy I could only barely see there. Somebody let out a grunt as my bullet connected. I fired again, not able to see well enough to do more than just squeeze the trigger and hope my barrel was aimed in the right direction. Some of my allies charged past me as I shot.

The spike whip relaxed. Silver Fox scrambled out, drawing a pair of silver daggers and then throwing himself back into the brush beyond.

Grandpa, Shadow Stepped in. I heard him hitting the enemy with a satisfying thunk of an axe. I stumbled through the brush, branches catching at the edges of my coat as I went.

I found myself in the melee, five of ours locked with six of theirs, so I reloaded with a special bullet Dwight and Sage had cooked up and fired at the nearest enemy.

Lightning arced from the enemy orc in a chain, hitting the other five who had come with him. They weren't all orcs; there were two more of the space elves and a cat girl. Other than the apparent universal dislike of the Grignarians, the aliens didn't seem to have much trouble working with each other.

The lightning leapt between them, doing dozens of points of damage and leaving a nice stun that my team was quick to follow up on. Grandpa Shadow Stepped in and cashed in his coup points on the cat girl, using coup de grace to kill her.

Her body vanished and Grandpa sent a flurry of shuriken into the back of the nearest orc. I pumped lead into his head and torso, reloading and firing another barrage point blank. Mak’gar yelled a war cry and hurled a throwing axe. That ended the orc for us.

A moment later, the rest had despawned. Mak'gar's cousin was our only loss. I checked in with the upstream group. They had done exceptionally well, clearing eight of the nine they had distracted. Mak'gar and Silver Fox loped off to clear up the straggler while I returned to the riverbank.

Let's get everyone across, I said in chat. We've got an opportunity right here. We'll hold this. Everyone else, get your people through.

I was at the riverbank to help with each crossing. We'd slapped some duct tape over Bud's boat and used that for anyone who couldn't swim or was afraid of the crocodiles. With no enemies on this side to harass or take potshots, a lot of miners were just taking their chances with the crossing. We lost one to a crocodile, but the respawn timer was already almost up and he made it back and took the boat this time.

Once the respawn had come up, I kept a wary eye for our enemies, but no red dots appeared. In a matter of an hour, we brought three hundred fifty miners across.

Or should I say, allied miners. After that operation, all of us in the warrior chat agreed to extend our alliance and make it formal. We would work together until the second level. At that point, everyone was on their own.

I shook Mak’gar's hand after the last of our people disembarked the boat. Ice Spice clambered ashore along with a couple of orcs and Bud, who needed a little help to collect his boat and get it back into his inventory. "Pleasure doing business with you," I said.

"And you. I shall recommend your clan's name to my superiors. I do not think we have enough money to hire you," he said honestly. "But we will give what endorsement we can, and perhaps you will catch the eye of one of the other conglomerates. If not crossing our paths again in this level, Shad Williams, I look forward to facing you in Phase Three, or on another world entirely."