Rowan started the car and turned around, away from the border, then turned around once more, and stopped, roaring the engine.

“This is considered easy, in rally driving, so no panic, yeah?”

Pushing the gas pedal to the floor, he dashed forward, gaining speed. Isla started screaming, Cora ululated in excitement, and Bree tried to draw breath. The road had a few curves and in that kind of driving he had to turn the wheel in what could have appeared the wrong direction, but at a hundred miles per hour, it was that or crash.

The last sixty yards of the roads were a straight line, but descending. A second before hitting the barrier, he activated his Joint Trip: Warp and shot forward in the air, for two more long seconds.

“Go!”

He had to push Isla out forcefully because she was still screaming in fear, and then he jumped as well. His team and the car appeared in the real world, the latter crashing in the farthest Rezz truck. Fighting and explosions ensued. He looked around, trying to identify who the important people were, and where were the bodyguards converging.

There was a stack of rebar pieces, about twenty inches long, in his spatial inventory, and he pulled them off one by one, pushing them into people’s bodies. As soon as he took his hand off them, the metal bars became real, appearing inside chests or heads. It was chaos. Opened mouths were screaming: shooter, shooter, thinking someone was projecting those bars from a sniper position. Everybody looked up.

Ten out of the twelve leaders were now dead, with fifteen seconds to go. Good enough. It was time to check the other objective. Running toward the tanks, he tried to take in the situation. The trailer in which the Hummer had crashed was done, three tanks completely broken, and a fourth cracked, leaking a milky substance. There were bullet holes all over four other tanks, spraying liquid. On a third truck, the roles he had asked for were reversed. In a blind fury, Bree was hitting the recipients with a war axe, while Isla protected her. One tank was shattered, and another started to crack.

The last truck was intact. About twenty Classed Warriors and normal military tried to move it away, but the driver was going slow, because of the snow and the chaos. He ran and jumped up, moving in the air, extracting grenades, and pushing them into the tanks. The pins had been taken off before when he had stored them in his spatial inventory.

A backflip, and he arrived near Isla and Bree, in time to put three more rebars in people before the timer expired. Getting back into the real world hit him hard. So much bright light, and cold, from the blizzard, and loudness, from the grenades exploding in a row. His spear out, he flourished it thrice, clearing the terrain around him, but the enemies kept coming. The second tank had split open, pouring its liquid, stinking of rotten milk, over them, and Bree moved to the third.

Where the heck is Cora?

There was no time for messages. Plunging the tip of his spear to the ground, he activated Gravity and Cold. Enemies become slower and heavier, the normal ones falling, and he projected rebars at them with his enhanced Telekinesis.

Yet some Classed persisted, either surrounding him or going after Bree and Isla. The Ranger continued to give two more hits to the third recipient, cracking it, then fell on her knees. Isla tried to hit the fourth tank herself, with her shield and one-handed sword, but without any result. All three were stabbed with various weapons, searching for the gaps in their armor, and Rowan realized he was faring poorly against too many opponents.

I need a better AoE.

You have taken Lethal Damage. Delayed Truth activated. You have 0% HP.

Team member Bree has activated Ultimate Strength.

Rowan took a Health Potion and cast Combat Heal. A few more HP and seconds were not going to save him, but any enemy he killed was one threat less to the County. He took his knife out and pushed himself forward, ignoring hits, soaking them, to get closer to people, and kill. One soldier. Another.

He grabbed an Awakened, stabbing the man’s guts with rage, holding himself up by pure will. He was covered in blood, his and theirs. A roar, wild and deep, made him turn his head. Grabbing the underbelly of the truck, Bree pushed up, her veins and eyes bulging, her body doubling in size. The trailer moved too slowly, inch by inch, and it looked like a failed attempt, but when the woman’s skill ended, and she returned to normal, falling on all fours, the last tank continued its trajectory, falling. And breaking.

There was a groan of joy in Rowan’s throat, exiting through gurgles, as his lungs were filling with blood, and he slit another soldier's throat, finally plunging his blade into a fifth victim’s groin as he fell on his knees. He was not dead, though, as his subconsciousness activated a Combat Heal at the last moment.

“Leave my mom alone!”

Instead of obeying the orders, Thomas came to help, attracting the enemy's attention and absorbing the hits. It was a noble gesture, even if futile. They were going to die anyway. That was what Rowan thought before a descending angel of light approached at an incredible speed.

I’m hallucinating…

Mechanical hands extended and grabbed them, and they were snatched like rag dolls. There were more explosions behind, but what counted was the message.

Team member Cora is applying Tech Healing Aura to you.

They landed on the grass and in the warm autumn weather of the County. It was the normal moment in which a novel says something about darkness taking him, but Rowan forced himself up, throwing Combat Heals in the two women, and himself, and taking a potion over that.

“Where the hell have you been?” he yelled at Cora.

“Busy saving your skin. The army intended to nuke you, sacrificing their allies. I had to go east hack their electronics, disable the nukes, and shoot down like a dozen helicopters and five fighters. I also disabled the shields with Mana EMP missiles. You should thank me.”

“Then thank you,” Rowan said, as Grace rushed to hug him, plus Carla and a plethora of unknown Italian soldiers. Italians were huggy by nature, he came to realize.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Err… Carla? Why are your folks here? You were supposed to do sorties of your own?”

“Che cazzo are you talking about?” the Italian blurted. “It was like bam bam bam fuck boom and you were back. We didn’t understand a thing.”

[Randolph County Call Center]: Cazzo means dick. That expression can be loosely translated as ‘What the fuck’. The Universal Translator has its limits. Your outside sortie lasted about a minute and a half, and much of your achievements were covered in the fog of war and the smoke of explosions.

“Never mind.”

All was for the best. Surviving, they were free to assess the situation and fight on. Freeing himself from the group hug, he approached the border, stopping fifty feet from it. The blizzard had intensified on the other side, but there were more troops around, guarding the Engineers. His Strategic Sixth Sense began to pick up signs of disarray. Many of the Classed looked like the typical gamer nerd, afraid to die for real. The military looked grim. People who knew they were going to die, but still willing to give it all.

[Rowan to Town Core]: Can you project sound outside, like through a speaker?

[Randolph County Call Center]: Affirmative.

[Rowan to Town Core]: Excellent. At my signal, enhance our voices and project sound and image outside.

“Sweetheart, can you come here?” he yelled.

“What?” Grace retorted. She was busy whispering something in Isla’s ear.

“Please, I need you.”

“I hope this is important,” she growled, coming near him.

“Of course. We’re going to perform a song together. Baby is Cold Outside. You’ll start.”

“What?”

Explaining things would have taken too much.

“I’m your commander-in-chief, and this is an order. Just go with it.”

[Rowan to Town Core]: Prepare to project image and sound.

[Randolph County Call Center]: I will add a backing track. Calculating the best pitch for both of you. It’s a C. Two measures free. And one two three four…

The instrumental music started to play, and repeated the queue, because Grace missed the entry, still stunned. Rowan had to elbow her.

“I… really can’t s-stay,” she began, hesitating.

“But baby it’s cold outside,” Rowan sang, taking her hand.

“I’ve got to go away,” Grace’s voice gained some power. Behind them, there was a rumor, people discussing what was happening.

“Stay put, he knows what he’s doing. I’ll kill whoever interferes,” Isla’s voice reached Rowan’s ears as he sang the next line, a repetition of the first.

He wrapped his hands around Grace’s waist, and they began dancing. Outside, everyone had stopped, looking in front of them, hypnotized. In the next verse, he stopped, facing the audience, he and Grace swaying on the music.

[Rowan to Town Core]: Open a gate in the forcefield, as big as the road, just in front of you.

The portal appeared a few seconds before the catchphrase.

“But baby, it’s called outside,” he bellowed with wide eyes and a sinister grin, beckoning.

The barrier that had stopped the enemies, the one they worked all morning to overcome, had vanished. Nothing stood in their path, but a singing couple, and yet the besiegers trembled in fear.

“But baby, it’s cold outside,” Rowan sang louder, beckoning harder.

The first to fly were the nerds, the engineers, then panic propagated like fire in a stack of hey.

[Randolph County Call Center]: You can stop, I’m repeating your first verses in a loop.

[Rowan to Town Core]: Good backing, Core. Wonderful sound.

[Randolph County Call Center]: Thank you.

All of a sudden, Rowan couldn’t move a muscle, not even breathe. Any sound or movement ceased. Snowflake stood still in the air, the outsiders had stopped running, and there was absolute silence, except for a voice in their minds.

The first pitched battle between Mana Awakened armies has taken place. I, The Warlord, will judge the outcome. Count Rowan Allinder is the victor. I’m grading his performance a ninety-five out of a hundred: Outstanding. The Neek Collective and the US government are the losers. I grade their performance at twenty-five out of a hundred. Shameful.

Winners, here are your rewards:

Count Allinder is granted a Divine Gift and a Divine Blessing.

Direct participants in the battle receive ten free APs.

Indirect participants receive three free APs.

Losers, here are your punishments:

The Joint Chiefs' decisions were found lacking. The punishment is death.

The Neek Collective has been found cowardly and unfit for their responsibility. All the Classed present on the field of battle will have their class stripped and will be locked off from the System. Their stats will be reverted to the level they had the day of their awakening. They won’t retain any perks or skills. Any healing received today will be unhealed and deduced from their new stats.

The Warlord wishes you a good life because life is a battle.

The world returned to the previous appearance a second later.

“What the fuck, Cory! A god?” Rowan yelled, using the Nekojin’s former nickname.

“Divines are not gods, they’re a step below,” she yelled back. “And I didn’t know. And what do you expect, that a Vampire Lord and half the Galaxy fears just some bloke with muscles?”

“Look!” Grace shouted, pointing outside.

People were collapsing, and dying. There had been a lot of damage thrown around. Bullets, explosions, toxic clouds, one could pick a lot of reasons. As soon as someone died, crows covered the body, and it disappeared in seconds. There were screams for help, people too weak now to resist the cold, or to heal their wounds.

“Core, play a message, in a loop. Whoever wants to surrender, will be allowed to come inside. Tell them to throw their weapons and not to try anything stupid. Open a way in for them. Carla, put your people to triage and organize them.”

There was a rush. Haggard persons, with wide, terrorized eyes, rushing to safety.

“Please, my boyfriend is caught in a machine!” a girl yelled.

“Show me the way.”

Rowan ran out, followed by Cora, with her suit activated. The Gundam’s door was frozen stuck, the robot inactive, and there were some faint noises inside, somebody struggling to push the door open.

“Cora, can you open it?” Rowan blurted, after failing to open the hatch.

Instead of working on the door, Cora took the twice-as-large Gundam in her arms and flew back inside their territory. A minute later, a boy looking barely eighteen was hugging her knees, while the girlfriend who had called for help was staring daggers at the Nekojin, jealous.

[Randolph County Call Center]: If I may, sir, I have a suggestion. Now that the main problem is taken care of, why don’t you delegate things and go home? You can have your next bicycle riding lesson with Lizzie before sunset.

[Rowan to Core]: Excellent suggestion, Core. You know what? You did a good job here. Why don’t you coordinate with Carla and take care of the rest?

[Randolph County Call Center]: Thank you, Sir. I won’t disappoint you.

Half an hour later, when they got home, Dmitri had just finished reading the latest information on the Internet and shared the news with them. Portals opened in DC, and hordes of monsters poured over the White House, Congress, and various institutions Rowan didn’t even know about. The President and thousands of people from the military and government have been killed in minutes, their heads displayed on pikes. The CIA had destroyed the FBI headquarters with a tactical nuke, and the FBI did the same to the Pentagon, which had destroyed Langley. Nineteen states had declared independence and California invaded Oregon.