Clarissa

I sat at Michael’s desk, which was really my desk when he wasn’t around. “Room for one more?” Naran asked and I waved at the empty seat across the table. All the crystal reserves had been used for regenerations. The treasury was once again empty. I didn’t risk bringing that up with Michael. That could be a conversation for later.

“Surprised you aren’t asleep,” I said.

“Just finished making preparations for tomorrow for us to leave. What were you talking to Michael about? I heard shouting.”

“I told him a hard truth. It was painful to hear, but he needed to hear it.”

“And that is?”

“To make peace with the Ritualist, or at least a truce.” Naran had a look of shock on his face. Michael and Naran had the same mentality. Fight or flight, but other options needed to be considered when the situation had gotten as bad as it currently was.

“Seriously?” Naran asked. “After everything that guy has done?” My annoyance increased.

“You try and hold this city together then! With the number of people that were killed, the level 1 area around the city can’t even be grinded to full capacity. Taxes will be impacted. Any more victories like the one we just had, there won’t be a government left.” I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but it had been a stressful couple of days.

“Michael is the government.” I wanted to strangle Naran for saying that. After all the headache I had been going through to keep this place together.

“That is great and all. But then everything has to be rebuilt. The culture that has developed has to be built up again. There is learned knowledge about this place, that we don’t have books or internet for. We can’t just have new arrivals take over and expect things to run smoothly when they don’t understand the history of this place.” I let out a sigh and drank some water. I wanted some strong alcohol, but that had all gone up in flames when Ken had died.

Bob was trying to get things working again. But after this attack, well, that wasn’t happening any time soon. Just more headaches to deal with.

“Leadership is rough, glad it isn’t me,” Naran said. I wanted to curse him, but Michael trusted him implicitly. I knew his history. The man was a snake, but one in a position no one could touch. Even if Michael died, I knew he had grinded up his stats as well. Well, no use complaining, this was my new reality and I had picked my path.

He was probably close to hitting 1,000 stat points himself. “Well, the maid I had hired to do laundry, and clean Michael’s armor died.” I was hoping he would volunteer or tell Aahan to do something. In the unclear hierarchy we had, Aahan reported to Nahan, who reported to Michael like me.

“Sounds like a secretary type job.” I really hated Naran at the moment but didn’t blame him in the slightest. He looked exhausted as well. “I took care of the cart.”

“You mean you had Aahan take care of things.” He shrugged. I was going to strangle the man. I swore he loved to aggravate me. Just like Michael. Still, I had dealt with worse and sexual harassment. A bit of misogyny was no big deal.

“Good job keeping everything together. I know Michael won’t say it, but he appreciates it. That is why he is keeping you around.” Thanks for that Naran. Honestly, no amount of points was worth this job. But there was no escaping it now. It wasn’t the points. It was my life.

If Michael died, or tossed me out, I wouldn’t last long. I had stepped on a lot of toes to get this city under control. The threat of his response if I was attacked or killed kept people at bay. Dictatorships were exhausting. Whomever was Kim Jong-un’s secretary back on Earth was probably coughing up blood as well. Secretaries of the world unite against frustrating people in charge. I got up. “Well, I will go clean his armor. Can’t have our glorious leader smelling like something dragged out of a septic tank.”

“Peace isn’t going to happen you know,” Naran said when I was almost out of the room. I paused. “You know Michael won’t accept it.”

“You don’t know him as well as you think you do. He said he would seriously consider the idea if he couldn’t kill the Ritualist.” I couldn’t help getting that small dig in on Naran. I needed what victories I could get in this place.

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“After what he did? I will only believe when I see it.”

“A bet then?” I asked. A bet on who knew Michael better. Naran or myself.

“Terms?”

“No pushing one way or the other, he makes the decision,” I said.

“That is fine. I can agree to that. Stakes?”

“You clean his armor the next time, no foisting it off either,” I said. It wasn’t the armor cleaning, but the small victory over the other person that was the real prize.

“And you clean my armor if there isn’t peace, tie if he kills the Ritualist,” Naran countered.

“Deal,” I replied.

“Deal, may the best man win. I guess that would be me.” I didn’t dignify that with a response and walked out of the room.

President Bob

“Still alive,” I muttered to Carl as we sat in my office. I was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. The thought of monsters getting me during the night had me on edge.

“Not going to try and deal with things?” Carl asked.

“No. Thanks again for saving my life and getting me out of there,” I said quietly.

“You said that already a couple of times. That is what you pay me for,” Carl replied.

It had been chaos when we were forced to retreat from the gate. General Gerold had cleaved a path out from the wall. People were screaming. I couldn’t get that one image of a man being ripped apart by a werewolf.

They just impaled themselves on spears and rushed right into people, not caring for their injuries. It was horrible. If Carl hadn’t yanked me back and killed that monster, I would have been ripped apart.

The screams. So many screams. I needed to develop alcohol. The store beer was too expensive the way I was chugging it down. I just couldn’t care. I should have never become President. I was going to die and there was no escape.

If I ran, I would always be worried about Michael and the Ritualist. Why couldn’t one of them have killed the other off? Both of them killing each other off would have been great and a lot less stress for me and my heart.

“Any news on the good doctor and his research?” I asked Carl, anything to take my mind off the battle.

“Sealed up tighter than Fort Knox. No one is talking. Tried one of the researchers but they told me, ‘I would rather slit my own wrists than risk getting melted. If you could guarantee my safety then we can talk, until then, bugger off,’ end quote.” Of course, it was like that. It didn’t matter that I was President. My title should be janitor instead.

“That is unfortunate. No idea how the Ritualist is doing all of that?”

“No. Honestly you would be better off asking Michael.”

“He made it clear that nothing is to leak. Was hoping to pin the blame on someone,” I let out a sigh. Getting power to survive in this place meant crystals. With Clarissa locking up the treasury tighter than a Nun’s cloister, and the death of a lot of people, things weren’t looking good to get wealth through trade.

“Just give up on the idea. He has absolute control. With his stats, there is nothing anyone can do,” Carl said and looked off to the side. I took another deep drink of the store beer. The silence lingered.

“What do you estimate he is at?” I asked.

“Over 1,000 stat points for sure. Probably 1,500 with his grinding speed and grinding level 3 monsters.”

“And he still can’t win?”

“The Ritualist had decoys. Monsters that appeared to be human. I suspect Clarissa will be passing along the news tomorrow.” Human shaped monsters. Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any worse.

“Well at least I got people picking up all the used weapons and equipment. Can’t let it all disappear,” I muttered. A small silver lining. I would be taking all that equipment and reselling it to new arrivals. Not like there was anyone to complain to besides the government, wait, that was me.

I smiled slightly as I took another deep drink of my beer. I would need a refill soon. Hopefully when I woke up the nightmare would be over. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep well tonight after everything that had happened.

General Gerold

I had the final casualty report. It was bad. But not horrible. The fast reaction squad was mostly intact. Most of the casualties came from the other squads.

“Everyone is sorted and rotations are sorted out General,” Vice General Smith said.

“Thanks, sit?” He dropped into the chair across from my desk. “At least everyone is at full health.”

“Everyone who is still alive. We are screwed. It will take forever to train up new people. How long does it take the Ritualist to make monsters? Seconds?” There was no good answer to that.

“All we can do is hope Champion Michael manages to kill him.”

“You hear anything from him?”

“No. He holed himself up after the battle. Exhausted apparently. Ran all the way back as soon as he got the alert,” I stared morosely at my desk. We couldn’t secure the city anymore. People, men and women, that I trusted were now dead.

“I didn’t prepare a force to go with him. Should I?” That was a million-point question. I thought back to the last fight outside the East gate. Seeing him move was like watching a professional linebacker just rush through all the opposition. Nothing stopped him.

“We would be a liability. All we can do is try to maintain order and secure the city. Also pray that Champion Michael manages to kill the Ritualist.”

“Pray to God or the Almighty System?” I looked back at Vice General Smith. Well people could worship what they wanted. I didn’t have the energy to care.

“The Almighty System?”

“People were talking about how it is the god of this place.”

“They can pray to their mothers or the flying spaghetti monster for all I care. I am going to bed. See you in the morning.”

“Night sir.”