Hiro Takehiko stared at the young American at the center of the dojo as he flipped open his old Motorola and speed-dialed the first contact. The phone rang for a few seconds before it picked up.

“Aoi, where are you?” He asked in Japanese.

“Dad? Are you seeing this? This is crazy!”

Hiro didn’t even flinch as he glanced again at the man in the dojo with a sharp aura of a swordmaster. “Aoi, stay home. I will come soon. Be safe, ok?”

“Dad, I’m at work! I can’t just—”

“Find a safe room. I will come pick you up as soon as I’m done.”

“But dad, the patients—”

“This is the end of times. Be safe. Do you have a blade on you?”

“At the hospital?!”

“Do you have a blade on you?”

“I have a small knife in my purse?”

“Buy a blade from the System Shop. I have seen blades. Buy one. Get in a large corridor where you can swing.”

“But dad, I—”

“I’ll come soon.”

Hiro closed the call and then looked at Shane.

“Safe… is it safe now?”

“It will be safe for many months,” Shane nodded. “The Dungeons right now are all at level 0. It means that they will not trigger any spill before we start farming them.”

Hiro frowned at those words.

“Dungeons have a timer. You must clear up the Dungeon, or it will eject the extra monsters on the street. If a Dungeon has been spilling long enough, it will start ejecting boss-level monsters.”

“Boss?”

“Very strong,” Shane said curtly. “Now, we need classes. Classes unlock… well, you’ll see. This is going to get very complicated, sensei. Very. I…”

“Shane-san,” Hiro addressed the young man, “why you come to me?”

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Your blade stronger,” Hiro frowned.

“For now, sensei. My talent is trash. In my past life, it took me thirty years to get to this point… and that’s just because you took me under your wing. Without your teachings, I’d never have gone beyond Intermediate Sword Mastery.”

Hiro pondered briefly before locking eyes with Shane again, “how do I know… you telling the truth?”

“I know a lot about you, sensei,” Shane shrugged.

“Google knows too,” Hiro frowned.

“Ok, I predicted the apocalypse. Also, I know you just called your daughter. I’ve met her in the future. Very strong woman.”

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As Hiro heard Shane talk about his daughter, he tensed up, a question starting to form on his tongue, “Aoi… she lives?”

“In the future?” Shane asked.

Hiro nodded, but when he saw Shane flinch, he immediately swore in Japanese.

“Who?” He asked. “Who kill her?”

“Sensei, it didn’t happen at the start. And me coming to you right now, picking these abilities—we are already changing the fate of humanity. So, Aoi is going to be fine for now. We need to go, though. There’s just the perfect Dungeon waiting for us.”

The middle-aged man stared at Shane for a second before extending a hand.

“Hiro Takehiko.”

“Shane Leone,” the young man said, gripping his hand tightly.

“Good name,” Hiro nodded.

“Thanks, sensei. I wish I was as good. Now, shall we?”

“We shall, Shane-san,” Hiro nodded.

…

Takehiko-sensei looked at my rusty bike with a raised eyebrow before shaking his head and pointing at the Toyota parked just a few yards from us.

“Toyota Corolla,” he said with a wise nod. “Very good.”

“Sensei, you take the car, I’ll get the bike.”

The man raised a hand in my face, frowning, clearly about to say something extremely wise and important.

“Corolla… hybrid. Very good for city. Come.”

I raised my eyebrows but the man had already started marching toward the car, whose main benefit was that… it consumed less fuel than my bike? I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but if one of us had to take a car, it would be the same anyway.

“There’s probably going to be a bit of a mess,” I explained. “People will start freaking out soon and then calm down after a few hours. I’d avoid the more dangerous parts of town for a few days. There’s going to be a few idiots slinging Fireballs around.”

Takehiko-sensei nodded at me, his hands on the steering wheel, but his eyes were still not peeling away from me.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Safety belt,” he declared.

I sighed, putting the belt on.

“Car complains otherwise,” he gently tapped the steering wheel before nodding again - this time at the car - and turning the engine on. “Where to?”

“Brooklyn Botanical Garden—we’re about to chop some wood, sensei.”

…

I looked at the map on the car’s digital display, fingers tapping on the car window. "East New York Avenue is clogged."

The traffic around us was a mess. A few idiots had abandoned their cars in the middle of the road. Thankfully, some disgruntled taxi drivers had started entering the cars and, thanks to their rude practicality, moved them to the curbs to let the traffic flow again.

Many expletives ran through the air as I kept scanning for signs that any idiot might be around to use an ability they could barely control. Thankfully, a Fireball just bought from the System Shop wasn’t even remotely as dangerous as one might think. It would take more than one, actually, to even pierce the glasses of this small car.

If they could do that before Takehiko-sensei ran them through with his sword, that is.

“Why class important?” The Japanese man suddenly asked. “What is class?”

“Classes unlock the rest of the system,” I explained. “We won’t get super cool classes offered at first, don’t worry. At level 10, the best thing you can get your hands on is a rare class. Anything above has to be scavenged through Dungeons and quests—oh, sorry. Before I add other confusing stuff… a class is like… Swordsman gives you some complementary skills through the class-exclusive skill tree. You should get a class based on your sword art.”

Takehiko-sensei nodded, unconvinced.

“No need to be confused, sensei. I’ll just show you when we get there and kill a few monsters.”

…

And get there we did, after forty-five minutes.

“Pull up in the parking there,” I pointed at a paid parking spot, hearing a disappointed sound from the man. “What?”

“Paid parking, Shane-san. Bad.”

“Just… come on. Let’s not waste any more time than this.”

The old man begrudgingly parked, looking suspiciously at the piece of paper he had gotten from the machine at the entrance.

We walked behind the Brooklyn Museum and reached the Eastern Entrance, noticing many people just standing upright and going through invisible screens.

A few people had swords, axes, and even shields in their hands. Some looked excited, some confused, and others just terrified. A woman was lambasting a guy who had mistakenly bumped into her with his massive shield, calling him all kinds of names. All in all, it looked like many people had just gone through a half-assed attempt at cosplaying at the local Renaissance fair.

We stopped in front of the two double doors as we saw many people being ushered out by security guards.

Shit, I swore internally.

Takehiko-sensei tried walking in, but a security guard immediately got in his face.

“Mister, back off. The garden is closed. We are dealing with a very unusual situation, and we received orders to close up everything. Also, is that a fucking sword on your back?”

I pulled the Japanese man away from the screaming security guard who had to remain at his post to manage the flow of people.

“We can’t go through the main entrance,” I said.

Takehiko-sensei looked around, trying to find a solution, but I had already thought of something.

“Come, sensei. This way.”