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Captain Heclaws checked if everything was in place. His one-shot pistols, his cutlass. The blunderbuss was kept at hand by his cabin boy. On the stage, Rowan Allinder and his wife were singing a duet, a non-related prelude to the play that was about to ensue: The Pirates of Penzance.

Unbeknownst to the Count and the public, here they were, a true pirate crew, brought to capture Elkins town by the Necromancer. They had kidnapped the real actors, tied them in the basement, and took their place.

The theatre, a thespian dungeon, was elegant, an old-style building. The place reminded Heclaws of his high school’s Drama Club. It was there he fell in love with the idea of a pirate life, before going for the real thing, blasters blazing, roaring arrrs.

When the duet ceased and the applause poured like a cascade, Heclaws pushed his cutlass out of its sheath with his left thumb, pressing the button in his ear with his right index. “Heclaws to Necromancer. The Overture is about to begin. We’re ready to roll in five. Entering radio silence.”

The orchestra began to play. All of a sudden, a force field blocked their way forward. And backward. And everywhere. Across the stage, a mirror image of themselves. People with blunderbusses, pistols, and cutlasses. But how? And why?

“They’re onto us,” his second hissed.

“You think so, Captain Obvious?” Heclaws sneered.

Battle Challenge issued by Cora County.

Cora County has transformed the theater stage into a Trial Arena for two equally murderous and villainous pirate crews. On the house right, Captain Heclaws. On the house left, Captain Blackwhiskers. In ten seconds, the forcefield separating the two crews will stop, and they will fight. The winners will be offered citizenship under parole and a second chance. The losers will serve the remainder of their sentence working for the County, as his Lordship will see fit.

“Blackwhiskers? Blackwhiskers is a pussy,” Heclaws growled, unsheathing his cutlass. “Let’s show him who’s the better pirate crew. Arr!”

----------------------------------------

Rowan massaged his forehead, grimacing. The stage fight had been short and brutal. In a minute, only three contestants remained, the two captains, and Heclaws’s cabin boy. Blackwhiskers teleported behind the latter, cutlass at the ready, to cull the weak before attacking his rival. Heclaws jumped and took the hit in his chest, saving the boy, shooting both his pistols in Blackwhiskers’s face.

“Go… kid… fly… Arr…” Heclaws blurted, before falling down, dead.

The fight has concluded with Crew Heclaws’s victory. The participants will be Rezzed by the Thespian Dungeon in the order they had been slain. One level has been awarded to Cora County for putting up a good Awakened entertainment show.

The true cast, freed from the captivity, entered the scene and proceeded with the play, an actor taking on his shoulders the befuddled survivor, the cabin boy. Rowan left his booth and went to the lobby. Walking around was a patrol of six, supposed to have a priest class among them, to scan for the Necromancer. But except for the five mercs, the only possible priest was none other than Wurf, the Goblidog, holding a dowsing rod in his hands.

“What are you doing here, you pest?” Rowan blurted.

“Protecting you, what else?” Goblidog Wurf sneered back.

“Since when are you a priest, you fraudster?” Rowan asked, hands on his hips.

“I ain't no fraudster. I took my license in Vegas last week and run my own mega-church,” the little monster yelled back.

“Just get out of my sight,” Rowan flickered his palm.

“C’mon, fellows, let’s hit the bar, this area is clear,” Wurf raised his hand, leaving with the Mercs after him.

Grinding his teeth, Rowan made a chat call.

[Rowan to Nottie]: How’s going.

[Nottie to Rowan]: Fine. We’re following the Elementals. For now, they're sticking in the hills outside Elkins.

[Rowan to Nottie]: Don’t take unnecessary risks.

He heard steps behind him and turned to look at the incoming women. Grace and a tall High-Elf. “How’s going?” the Smugglers’ Queen asked.

“He didn’t take the bait," Rowan said. "No sign of the Necromancer in the Theater. Supposing that little monster knows what he's doing… Oh, I forgot… Here is the item you came back for,” he offered her the Sensor.

“Thank you,” the woman nodded and returned to the hall without more words.

Grace, on the other hand, stayed behind. “Everything all right?” she fondled his shoulder.

“Aren’t you watching the show?” he asked. "We shouldn't let our lives be disturbed just because nuts are attacking us every other day."

“I just wanted to say I really enjoyed singing together. Maybe… we can do it again. See you later,” the woman caressed his cheek, then put a brief kiss on his lips, which made him jerk a little.

Two seconds after she walked up the stairs, a message and a photo arrived on his phone. It was brief and to the point: Come to the Controls’ entrance, or she dies. Don't tell anyone.

She was Lizzie. A man whose face did not appear in the photo held the unconscious girl in his arms. Rowan ran outside. On the opposite side of the empty Main Square, at the entrance of the corridor toward the Control Room, the tall man’s and Lizzie’s silhouettes were barely visible through the night.

“Don’t try anything. It takes a second to apply Necromantic poison.” The voice was bland, and soulless, like the man's appearance.

“I won’t,” Rowan blurted, raising his hands. "Please, don't hurt her! How did you trick the guards?"

The Necromancer ignored his question. “Open the access. Step slowly, hands up, and no tricky business.”

Clenching his teeth, Rowan walked ahead, activating the portal toward the Control Center. The Necromancer let him step ahead. As soon as the Necromancer followed in the room, there was a notification:

This area is now sealed. Travel through normal means or the in-between is restricted until the Challenge is resolved.

The Necromancer grabbed Lizzie's neck in his hand, growling: "Don't even think of jumping me or she dies."

“Easy,” Rowan raised his hands, his fingers spread apart. “I have shuttles with hyperdrives now. Take one, go away, and just let us be. I ask the System to enforce my words.”

Count Rowan Allinder had taken an Oath before the System. If the Necromancer agrees to leave of his own accord, without engaging in any hostile act, now or in the future, the Count will gift him a functional and safe Hyperdrive shuttle. Penalty for not keeping his word: forfeiting his title.

“Hahaha…” The Necromancer’s laugh was bitter and cold. “I don’t intend to leave Earth.”

“What do you want, then?” Rowan hissed.

“In exchange for her life, I want you to let yourself be turned undead by me. You’ll have an almost normal life, except for when I’ll need your services to control the County and its Vassal states. I swear on my head, before the System.”

The Necromancer had taken an Oath before the System. If Rowan Allinder lets himself be turned into an Undead willingly, the Necromancer will allow him to have a quasi-normal life and will not harm his daughter, Lizzie. The penalty for not keeping the terms of the Oath is perma death.

“So that’s what you’ve been after…” Rowan sighed, lowering his head.

“Yes. Why leave when I have a planet I can control? Nothing can stop me from taking over, not even the Warlord or the System. I played by the book and won fair and square. If the Warlord denies me the victory, his friends will take him away by force. Make up your mind.”

“Oh, but I made up my mind already,” Rowan straightened up. "Glamour off." After his words, Lizzie's body started to spread specks of light.

“What’s this?” The Necromancer stepped back, letting Lizzie’s body fall. When it touched the ground, it had become a child-sized doll.

“You think I didn't anticipate you'd go for my family? I’m a strategist, remember? I asked Isla to put a Glamour on the doll and put it on Lizzie’s bed.”

The Necromancer's smile was not a pleasant one. His teeth were blackened and rotten. “You think you fooled me? Better check on your wife. She’s taken hostage as we speak, along with everybody else in the theater.”

“You mean by the Pirates?" Rowan snorted. "They’re done for. That move was so telegraphed I had it covered first. Last call: take the shuttle and leave.”

“You don’t understand," the Necromancer shook his head. "It’s nothing personal, but I’m tired of running around, a bounty on my head just for being myself.”

“Nothing personal here too, but you’re too dangerous to have around," Rowan mirrored the man's gesture, leaning forward like a predator ready to jump on its prey. "Last warning for good, this time: leave or die.”

All of a sudden, the Necromancer entered the Space, and so did Rowan. Both summoned armor and weapons, the Necromancer a spear, Rowan his extendable filaments.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The Necromancer began circling Rowan, keeping his eyes on the younger man. “One thing you don’t know about me is that my main class is not Necromancer. I’m a Mythical Warrior with decades of fighting behind the belt. Outside, you’d win, but in the Space, you have no chance.”

“That’s to be seen,” Rowan growled. He projected all threads of his weapon forward, each aiming for a different part of the Necromancer’s body, also ready to grab or parry the spear if necessary. Surprising him, the adversary projected himself forward, with a push on his legs, twisting his body and battling the filaments aside as he flew horizontally at Rowan, for fifteen feet.

“C’mon, that’s wire-fu!” Rowan yelled while rolling out of the way, but not before his shoulder got clipped. His armor showed a five percent loss.

“No, it’s just skill.” The Necromancer smiled and kept pushing. How could his foe wield his half-spear so well in close range? was a question that crossed Rowan's head while he trashed the air aimlessly with his weapon’s tendrils. He resorted to throwing a punch, which, to his surprise landed and made the foe retreat. Yet, the armor was now at eighty percent. There was an HP bar above the necromancer’s head that had barely moved downward from the fist. Nevertheless, the hit had activated Sonar.

Target: Mythical Warrior/Necromancer. Identified weaknesses: Elemental Damage +400% damage taken.

If I were in normal space, I'd finish him in one shot.

Rowan whipped the air, to make the Necromancer move back, and when the older man avoided his strands and ducked below, changed his weapon into a shield and a machete, to block and cut the enemy. He landed a cut, lowering the other’s health by about five more percent, but he noticed his health was lower by ten, his armor almost gone, and the Necromance’s spear was stuck in his calf.

“Fuck!” Rowan yelled in pain when the evil wizard recalled his weapon. He was at eighty-five percent health now, the pulling motion adding to the damage. There was also a DOT of 0.5 HP/second. Panting, he changed his weapon into a spear and supported himself on the shaft. “I don’t suppose you’ll agree with a normal duel, fair rules, and everything?" he tried.

“Your reputation for being funny is well deserved. But I never aimed for a fair fight,” the Necromancer shrugged, attacking again. Against such a fast and agile foe, Rowan's skills proved insufficient. Fainting a retreat, the Necromancer attacked instead, and his spear found Rowan’s heart.

Delayed Truth activated. You have reached 0 HP. DOT dismissed. You are invulnerable for twelve seconds.

Shit! Here goes the plan of grabbing him and going Mach one into a wall… It could still work, though, I have a Rezz, but he doesn't. But what if he avoids me? I'd be done for… And I bet if that I die first, the System will give him the chance to turn me…

That thought lasted for a blink, in which Rowan activated a Health Potion and a Combat Heal, grabbed the spear with one hand, and slammed his machete into the Necromancer’s head. The wizard’s health dropped to seventy percent. Rowan’s was at fifteen.

He exited the Space and to his joy, the Necromancer’s spear came with him, and he stored it in his inventory. His Svartálfar Aura sign, a rune, appeared next to his Mana Pool, and the Elemental Armor activated as well. Both showed they were absorbing damage, consuming Mana, about half a percent every few seconds. It meant the Necromancer was able to hit at him from the Space, probably because of one of his perks, but the DPS was minimal. Throwing fists, most likely, and with the DPS debuffed because of the difference in dimensions.

“Know that I cleared your Clusterfuck Dungeon this morning,” Rowan said in a cold voice. There was a pause in the hits, the Necromancer was listening. “I roughed my father-in-law a little, and he began singing. Do you know what he said your greatest weakness is? Horrible detection skills. ‘And he pretends he’s a great scout’, that’s what Papa Heroars said. Nerio, it’s time!” he bellowed.

The rotary armchair in front of the desk turned, and the elf girl raised on her feet. Rowan took them both into the Space, but not before casting another Combat Heal and chugging a Mana Potion. He was back at full Mana and fifty percent HP.

Inside the in-between, the Necromancer was at seventy-and-something percent HP. He must have chugged a potion himself.

“So, you brought a friend,” the wizard sneered. “It won’t make any difference.” He charged at them blindly. This time, Rowan’s thrusts, with his threads, and Nerio’s cuts, with her sword, made a big dent in the Necromancer’s health, he went down to forty-nine percent in no time. Nevertheless, the man didn’t look afraid, quite the opposite, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. They found why when his body began to change, growing in size, and long claws made of bone appeared from his fingers.

“Let’s see how you cope against my phase two,” the Necromancer let out a sinister laughter. Hollywood would have hired him on the spot for a villain's role.

“Why the fuck he can activate a transformation inside here, and I can’t?” Nerio yelled, barely dodging the Necromancer’s jabs. "Can't use my Shadow travel either."

“Perks!” Rowan blurted, trying to parry the Necromancer’s weapon with his threads and soaking some of those hits with his own body. It was not working, the enemy was stronger and faster. Soon, the Necromancer’s health was at forty percent but the girl’s at twenty-five, and his at thirty. They exited the Space for a second, the time to cast a Combat Heal on her. But the man had continued hitting Nerio, Rowan had gained her only five percent in health.

“You brought a liability, not an ally,” they heard the Necromancer's faint voice, coming from the in-between. “You could have lasted longer without her.”

He could have, true, healing outside the Space.

“He’s not so strong!” Nerio shouted, furious. “If I could activate Goddess Avatar, I’ll win.”

“Tough luck,” the Necromancer taunted her, his voice changing place as he was hitting them from a different position. “You stay out there, you lose, you come in here, you lose. I told you, this is not a fair fight.”

“Yeah, jerk, it's not and it never was. Spoiler alert: we're not in the control center. Teddy, sic’em!” Rowan yelled. The walls and the floor disappeared, another illusion, and all around was now only the forest. A large shadow roared, disappeared, and then reappeared a second later in real space, five large and curved natural daggers planted in the Necromancer's back. The man was screaming, trashing his arms around. The Grizzly bear’s claws made a pulling motion, taking out a large portion of the man's spine with them. The Necromancer fell on the rustling leaves like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Go, Nottie!" Rowan yelled.

Enlarging herself, the girl crushed the Necromancer's head under her boot. If there was a phase three for the Wizard, he didn’t have the time to activate it, dissolving into specks of light. Finally, the notification arrived.

The Battle for Cora County has now ended with Count Allinder’s victory. Because both the Necromancer and Rowan Allinder have used various subterfuges, the System is not able to deliver a proper reward except for the normal continued existence. Nevertheless, the County will be raised to the maximum level. Nerio Fern will receive the appropriate combat XP.

“Fine with me,” Rowan said.

Cora County is now a Full Fortress. The System will no longer lower its defenses to allow challenges.

A Special Perk has been awarded to Cora County for reaching the Maximum Level: Spreading the Awakening (shared between your main domains). Consuming a Core of any level in each of your larger domains (Cora County, Rome, Goblin Town, Calveor, Bourbon Borough) with this Perk activated will release a sizeable quantity of Mana on Earth, increasing the Awakening tier of the planet to tier E. The planet will become Mana Stable and will suffer no further risk of breaking from Mana Imbalance.

Warning: Spontaneous spawning of tier E dungeons and mutated wildlife outside the Awakened Towns will become possible. Please consult the now available FAQ to find out about how to ensure the early detection of such events and the civilians' protection.

The elf was so merry that she was jumping on her toes like a kid. “Thank you for giving me the kill!” Nerio yelled. “So much XP! And APs! And Skill Points! And I’m level one hundred!”

“Please, calm down, you're making me dizzy," Rowan waved his right hand in front of his eyes. "Don’t rush to invest points before consulting with me or Cora.”

“C’mon, Rowan, you know me. Considerate is my middle name,” the girl leaned her head sidewise, puckering.

“Good boy, Tommy,” Rowan refused to answer with some cheap sarcasm about teenagers being responsible, and fondled the bear’s head instead. The girl was still dancing around in joy. “Do you mind if we move to my home? I’m expecting my family to return soon.”

"Sure," Nerio nodded. "All clear here?"

"Yeah… just a sec, to message Nottie they can go for the Elementals. Great. We're good to go."

A portal opened in front of them and Rowan let the girl go through first. Maybe still drunken by the victory, she was in a chatty mood. “Nice trick, but what if the Necromancer had found the real Lizzie?” Nerio asked as soon they were in Grace’s garden.

“Impossible. I entrusted her to a f...f...friend. Show yourself. I know you’re here!” Rowan yelled.

“I am,” the Warlord said, appearing in between the two. The girl jumped back, almost unsheathing her sword, but Rowan grabbed her hand in time.

“Don't worry, it's a… f… f…"

"C'mon, is it so hard? A friend. Hi Nerio, I'm the Warlord, the one who offered you your secondary class. We have so much to talk about…”

“Let the kid be, she’s doing all right on her own,” Rowan gave the man a mild shove on the shoulder.

“Err… Rowan, what’s happening here?” the Swarthy Elf looked at the two with befuddlement.

“Nothing, really," Rowan half-shrugged. In one word, I got fed up to be fucked with, and decided to give some fuck back.”

“That’s one word?” the Warlord snorted.

“I don’t even need a word,” Rowan raised the middle finger. “This is my turf, my family, my people, my Bourbon, my everything, and you and the System thought I’d play by the book? Fuck no.

"I figured out immediately the shitmancer was not interested in leaving. All he had to do was to tell my parents-in-law about Cora, come together to negotiate, and ask for the Hyperdrive core or a shuttle. I’m a reasonable guy, right? Talk instead of fighting, if possible, that’s my motto. To shortcut the others for more cores was the next thing that made sense, but he could have taken the ones from the Neek Supreme without a sweat.

"Only one thing checked the boxes: he wanted to take over the County, through me—not the first to give it a shot. I had no idea he wanted to conquer Earth, though, but well… maybe billions of Zombies are something this kind of guy dreams of. The pirates and the elementals were meant to convince the System he had a serious chance to take over the County. But pirates and elementals are no match for us now, and he knew it, so his real plan was to go for my most precious treasure: my family.

"Of course, my parents-in-law knew everything about his powers, after all, they were his jailers. Once I knew all the details, my task was to make myself invulnerable to blackmail, deny his strength—the in-between—and catch him in a trap. Grace and I put together a plan. She’s a fantastic tactician. I bought a passive Svartálfar perk about interacting with animals—”

“I know that perk! It’s great!” Nerio gasped. "You can use it to talk to dragons!"

“Then I rented Teddy’s services, sent Isla here to build an illusion, made a fake portal in town, and the rest is history. For the record, I did offer the Necromancer a way out, or the System could have considered I found an exploit. Then, the Necromancer became training fodder for you, Nerio. But let me tell you something,” Rowan leaned closer to the girl's ear. "My greatest satisfaction is not that we killed the Necromancer, but that I beat him for a third time," he pointed his finger at the Warlord.

“You exploited me!” the Warlord exploded, gesturing widely. “You asked me to organize a PvP match between you and the Necromancer.”

“I did not. Your own mind imagined it because it is set only for battles and slaughter. I asked you to let me challenge your dungeon today. And I sent in Lizzie and my extended family,” Rowan said the last sentence toward the girl. “Grace from the theater was an actor... uh… a too-good one,” he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“You sent your family to a Dungeon?” Nerio’s jaw dropped. “How’s that safe?”

“It’s about reading the fine print. The Warlord’s Dungeon has strict rules, it’s part of who he is, and why he was allowed to stay in this world. He’s required to adapt to the ones challenging it. Kids, elderly, a pregnant woman, relatives, a whole family? He’s obliged to keep them safe. By the way, how are they doing?”

“See for yourself,” the Warlord rolled his eyes. “Dungeon cleared. Reward: plushes and sweets.” The man’s body transformed into a large castle wooden gate, only the head remaining unchanged, at the top. The pans swung open, and Lizzie erupted out, directly in Rowan’s arms.

“Daddy! I won the beauty contest, and the pony ride, and the quiz!”

“I’m sure you did, my princess,” he hugged her with all his warmth, kissing her hair. Grace soon joined the hug. Walking at a slower pace, Cora and her parents appeared, talking together. Then Thomas and Cora’s sisters; the boy was showing them his biceps. Sulking behind, Cora’s brother, which meant he had lost some sort of match against Thomas. Last to exit, Isla, frowning, a gun at the ready in each hand.

“What?” she asked, as Rowan stared at her stupefied. “I don’t trust that jerk. Always be prepared, that’s my motto.”

“Or shoot first and apologize later," Rowan reminded her about their past adventures. "Where’s Dmitri?”

“He was behind me, moments ago, flirting with a faun,” Isla groaned, running back inside the dungeon and reappearing moments later with the Greek in tow. "Idiot! It's a construct, it's not real!"

“Nottie and Papa say the elementals are dealt with,” Rowan checked his phone. “He’ll be back soon.”

“You’re joining us for dinner, I hope,” Grace smiled at the Warlord and Nerio.