Congratulations! You have successfully bested Contender Hencely Adams Augustus!

  You have claimed 12 Strength / 14 Vitality / 13 Quickness / 12 Finesse / 13 Perception / 23 Soul Reserves / 23 Arcane Potential from your prey!

  Eric choked back a scream that was equal parts ecstasy and agony as his muscles tingled with added Strength, and a vital attribute crashed to levels that were shockingly close to what he had had when he had been a baseline mortal as the air rang with completely unexpected cries.

  “Big Gun clan surrenders to elfie boy! Please don’t cut off our heads!”

  “Grimtooth clan surrenders to the Sylvan prince. We will withdraw in peace.”

  “Blade Company formally surrenders to Contender Eric Silver of the Sylvan Alliance. What does that mean for you? Seeing as our employer is dead, through no fault of our own, and that our contract has been lawfully terminated… You now have the rare and exclusive right to hire us on for a full 30% discount for the first year, and standard rates thereafter!”

  The words washed over a stunned Eric as much to his complete surprise, the living will of the land around him reached out to caress his soul.

  Then, much to his horror and the wide-eyed look of dismay in Brittany Summer’s gaze, her circlet tumbled free of her auburn locks even as she crumpled into his arms as the air rang with the trumpets of conquest.

  She sobbed as he swallowed a pain-filled groan.

  “You saved me, Eric Silver. My life. My family. My people.” She choked back a sob. “My kingdom is yours. Fate itself decrees it!”

  And before Eric could utter a single word of protest, his soul drank deep, and it was done.

  Congratulations! You have successfully claimed Boston Massachusetts!

  Your sister is alarmed by your Conquest!

  Desperately, Eric acted before the pain could truly hit, sensing a wondrous possibility before him, though it would require—“Yes Eric. Of course!”

  His sister’s consent.

  Instantly given as all of Boston flooded with all the raw wonder and potency and blessings of New Arcadia itself. A surging wave of rich golden potential that poured in from the capital, sprouting fertility, blessings and magic along the arterial railways now connecting Aurelia’s entire kingdom.

  And it only Cost Eric the tiniest sliver of his earned potency and power to deliver unto a now gratefully sobbing Brittany’s kingdom all the blessings of Faerie, now enriching the entire strip of territories carved through Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts that Eric had claimed on his sister’s behalf. All of it now infused with New Arcadia’s blessings… the entire strip of territory now under Brittany Summer’s Jurisdiction as she was elevated from fallen princess to System Acknowledged Countess, as the shimmering image of Elonia herself appeared before the awed looks of orcs, goblins, mercenaries, and terrified citizens whose status had changed in an instant.

  “Do you, Brittany Summers, pledge your loyalty to the Sylvan Alliance and her queen, Elonia Silver, Duchess of New York?”

  Brittany’s teary eyes were filled with wonder before the sparkling vision of her lover. “I will, Your Grace, till my dying breath. I swear it!”

  Elonia’s magical shimmering form gently tapped Brittany’s kneeling countenance with the hilt of a mithril blade upon both shoulders. “Rise, Brittany Summers, and be acknowledged as Countess of Boston and all the cleared territories between your capital and New York. Rule wisely and well, Brittany, in my name.”

  Much to Eric’s surprise, she then turned to the oddly solemn collection of mercenaries and humanoids. “Your surrender has been accepted. Blade Company’s offer of employment has also been accepted.”

  She flashed a cool smile. The lead mercenary suppressed a shudder and bowed to one knee, armored fist over chest. “We are yours, Elonia Silver.”

  “You are indeed. And you’ll find me a fairer master than most. Fair warning. I won’t send you and your company out on suicide missions, but if I’m under attack, you will defend me and mine to the bitter end. Betray me and I tear free your souls to feed my faerie realm for eternity.”

  Eric blinked before that particular ultimatum as the entire mercenary company blanched. “You can do that? Fucking AWESOME, sis!”

  Elonia smirked but didn’t let her brother wreck her flow. “I think you’ll find the pay to be quite generous, and after the ascension you’ll all be free to take on light duty or settle down and retire... or adventure and delve to your heart’s content. You’ll find the contract formalized in Blue Corp headquarters in Freetown. If these terms are not acceptable, my brother will happily escort you out of my territory in the most expedient fashion imaginable.”

  Knowing a cue when he heard one, Eric kissed his knuckles and winked. “She means my fist.” He flashed a savage grin when his fist burst with the essences of Wrath and Flame.

  His sister’s smile was a bit too knowing when the entire mercenary band quickly bowed once more.

  “We’re happy to enlist, Your Grace!” The Blade’s captain quickly assured.

  “Good. I believe a train shall be departing for New York and its provinces shortly.”

  She turned to glare at the trembling orc and hissing gnolls. “You now have a choice. Swear fealty to me, or have my brother hunt you down and slay you all.”

  Eric trembled, wracked by pain as his entire body burned, yet he could say nothing. Nothing that would undermine his sister’s regal bearing, no matter how much his bulwark was now crumbling under her feet.

  The gnolls hissed, the orcs growled.

  Eric flashed a hard smile, forcing himself to speak through his pain. “Rosy asked me to give you guys one chance at redemption before I handled things my way. This is your chance.”

  His words earned furrowed brows… and looks of shocked disbelief.

  “You know Chieftain Big Think?”

  “He knows Chieftain Big Think!”

  “How can he know her secret name?”

  “No one knows her secret name!”

  “Only her mate can know!”

  “So how do we know?”

  “Wait! She slept with an elf?”

  “Don’t be stupid. Everyone knows Big Thinks like elves! That’s why their heads are big.”

  “But their bodies are so small!”

  A few of the larger orcs glared worryingly at the smug-looking gunners among them.

  “But they’re the only ones who understand the big guns!”

  Eric found himself the recipient of an increasing number of worried looks.

  “We surrender,” the most sylvan-looking member of the cannon crews decreed. “I don’t know about you idiots, but I like living.”

  “Hey, we do too!” Protested the largest Berserker with a hurt expression. “We surrender too! Can we surrender first? Why do Big Think’s people always get to do things first!?”

  Elonia’s shimmering form stared at the gunner for long seconds. “You’re…”

  The gunner sighed, scratching her very human looking nose. “Yes. I know. Please don’t rub it in.”

  “But you’re…”

  “Surrendering, princess. So, where the fuck do you want us?”

  “Rosy’s really into farming right now,” Eric said helpfully. “She got to change professions for the low, low price of free, and really thinks the bigger thinkers among you should join her. To quote our pillow talk.. less killing, more farming, is probably a good thing for making nice with the locals.”

  This earned a snort. “She always found reasons not to shoot at or eat you people. An intimidating glare is all we need, she always said. Strangely, she was right.” The gunner shrugged. “Sure, we can do things her way.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She gave Eric a measuring look. Though she was slightly more orcish looking than Rosy... it wasn’t by much. It really wasn’t. She was actually… and now that Eric was looking for it, the mixed heritage of the entire gunner crew was undeniable.

  “Did you really...”

  “Yes. Yes I did. And it was awesome.”

  “Oh.” She turned to the increasingly perturbed image of Elonia. “We’ll gladly pledge service. No suicide missions, though. And when we retire… we get to settle without you purging us, or telling us we can’t marry elves… assuming they like beautiful, full-bodied women.”

  “Or men!” Said the pouting berserker.

  “Shut up, Gronk. You’d probably break them.”

  Gronk sighed, ears wilting.

  “More than fair!” Eric said with a bright smile for his glowering sister. “Right, Sis?”

  “Sure, Eric. Whatever.” She turned to glare at the orcs and gnolls. “You’re hired. You break your oaths on my lands, I’ll break your souls. That’s all.”

  Eric held his cheerful facade until his sister faded out, leaving nothing but roses in her wake as the entire territory came alive with birdsong and rustling trees full of ripened fruit as a gentle breeze tasting of magic and happiness caressed their noses and Eric darted so fast inside the palace that only Brittany, once more tied to the land, sensed his flight into the deepest recesses of her rather fine wine cellars where he began to scream with long held back pain.

  ***

  You have successfully elevated Boston into an Ascended territory now one with New Arcadia!

  Critical success! The wondrous bounty you have bestowed upon all the claimed territories between New York and Boston has cost you zero permanent Soul Reserves!

  Even as you enrich an entire province, you too benefit from the boon of your largess!

  You have earned an additional 15 Strength & Vitality and an additional 5 Soul reserves as you too benefit from the boon of your own largess. Your glorious bounty is further modified by all applicable attribute and title boons!

  WARNING! SPIRITUAL ENERGY HAS FALLEN BELOW 10!

  BE CAREFUL, Body Cultivator! The wise warrior balances resilience with bountiful reserves!

  “Eric? You okay good buddy?”

  Eric took a shuddering breath, face locked in a grimace as he took in his familiar gazing at him with such heartfelt sympathy from between the myriad wine racks while Eric desperately strove to cycle the paltry trickle of Spiritual Energy oozing through meridians screaming for so much more.

  “I didn’t think it would hurt like this, you know?” Eric said with a pained chuckle. “I’m such an Idiot, Bun!”

  His familiar flowed into his lap and purred. He blinked back a painful tear and tried desperately to cultivate, to feel the Spiritual Energy flow through him as it should and alleviate the awful sense of being a man stumbling in hot desert stands, wheezing for breath as his cracked throat tormented him, aching desperately for cool waters to soothe his parched throat and fill him with peaceful bliss as his body blistered and shriveled under the hot desert sun.

  But there was no relief to be had. Just the awful burning thirst that wouldn’t end.

  He choked back a bitter chuckle. “I have a Physical Resistance of 1283. That’s more than six full evolutions beyond Imperial Dreadnought Armor! How fucking absurd is that, Bun? What does it even mean?”

  Bunbun sighed. “I think it means that pretty much nothing physical’s hurting you without essence enhancements and higher order concepts in play, Fearless Leader. Even sub-lightspeed bullets will bounce off your ass… and Speed Racer means inertia won’t send you pinballing across the planet, either.”

  Eric grinned. “I know, right? Maybe I can even stretch that to those hypersonic bullets not bouncing off to tear through half a city either. It just pings off me and falls harmlessly at my feet like in a Super Punch Man cartoon.”

  “Sounds good to me, boss.”

  Eric swallowed a throat so painfully dry. “It’s so fucked up, Bun. Like I’m burning on the inside, but with an effective Elemental Resistance of almost 900… how?”

  “Your pops fucked you up with a super messed-up Gold tier curse, that’s how. And we’re such arrogant White-tier idiots that we actually thought we could exploit it to our own advantage.”

  Eric forced a chuckle. “And we did, didn’t we? How many times did those shockingly high defenses actually save our lives?”

  “True,” his familiar sighed. “Very, very true. And yet you still have a Spiritual Energy pool so low right now that you can barely cycle the tiniest of trickle and your Meridian Channels are screaming for more Qi flowing through them. Your Dantian can’t save a single drop, and no fucking chance of energy storage anything...even as your cells revel in a body cultivator’s fantasy of immortality.”

  Eric groaned, rubbing a head that hadn’t throbbed so bad in almost two years… feeling sharp spikes of pain he had thought never to feel again.

  “Ooh… migraines? Shit. I thought that was so pre-apocalypse!”

  “So did I,” Eric sobbed. “And this shit hurts!”

  “Eric?”

  Her master refused to respond, just huddling in a ball of misery in the middle of a dark, damp cellar.

  “Eric! Fuck, I’m getting multiple comminiques…” She sighed. “But you’re not in a place to deal with any of this, are you? And of course the entire world’s on your shoulders, and now’s when our enemies prepare to tear into all our friends’ flanks.”

  It was long moments before Eric found the wherewithal to force himself out of his fetal huddle and drag himself to his feet once more.

  “We really should get going, shouldn’t we.”

  His familiar gave a sad nod of her head. “Come on. If nothing else, let’s find that Hyperion core a home before those poor sops collapse and we end up losing Connecticut and Road island, and that’s if we’re lucky.”

  Eric chuckled bitterly. “And it wouldn’t do shit to us.”

  “Nope! Nearly 900 Elemental Resistance plus a specific Hyperion Blazer perk means that Hyperion radiation will do as much to us as a flashlight. We’d just have to live with the awful guilt forever.”

  Eric snorted. “Alright, Bun. Let’s take care of that, and then head to New Arcadia as fast as possible.”

  Bunbun sighed. “Eric…”

  “Please don’t say it…”

  “I don’t think we’re going to get a chance to talk to Richard. Not before we have to take care of… other things.”

  Eric clenched his fists, squeezing back tears of furious frustration.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Eric…”

  “How fucking bad!?”

  His familiar wilted.

  He winced. “Sorry, Bunz. I… none of this is your fault. And I’m losing my cool with my closest friend.”

  Bunbun sighed. “I know, boss. But… yeah. Things are pretty fucking bad. Eric, brace yourself, okay?”

  Eric clenched his jaw and glared.

  “Yeah. Perfect, ha ha. Anyway… do you recall Irene, that dragon princess who had begged for our help and did all her bread and salt bullshit and could we please break her free of her trap?”

  Eric’s jaw clenched tighter. “You mean the woman whose life I saved when I took out that hunter gunning for her clan and snapped whatever cord tied his Silver-tier master to our world?”

  “The very one!” Bunbun said brightly. “Anyway, since her assistant, cousin? Sister? Not sure with dragons. But since Maybel Drachen freed her, her clan feels free of any sense of gratitude or obligation to you. In their books, you ‘failed’ their quest…

  “Bullshit.”

  “And now they’re free to claim New York.”

  “Motherfucking Assholes! They fucking OWE ME!”

  Bunbun sighed. “They’re trying to be all nice and legaleese about it, saying they know Elonia profited magnificently with titles and wealth and choice character advancements and they will allow her to keep that boon after having served as a ‘temporary custodian’ without penalizing her. When we know what they really wanted was for New York to ripen in full before plucking the fruit for themselves.”

  Eric’s lip curled in a furious snarl. “Those devious motherfuckers.”

  “Yup! And that’s why they didn’t contest you claiming the entire state. Somehow they sensed you’d be bringing the good things, the yummy magic, to the entire region. And you did. You really, really did.”

  Eric cracked his neck, eyes flaring dangerously. “They won’t get away with it.”

  “And you have less than ten Spiritual energy to risk your life on.”

  “Does that bitch have any Contender dragons on her team?”

  “Sure as fuck I don’t know, Eric.”

  Eric shuddered. “I can’t even take that risk, can I? I don’t dare take on a single Contender right now. Even if I win… I lose.”

  “Precisely. But wait! It gets worse.”

  Eric just blinked and stared at his familiar in the lonely cellar filled with so many wine racks and other prizes as well. He did his best to ignore the smell of damp limestone, the rich aroma of priceless vintages, and the vinegary scent of that which had inevitably gone bad.

  “How much worse?”

  Bunbun sighed. “New York’s now the crown jewel of the Americas. Perhaps the world, except for maybe some lost empire in China. But anyway, it’s a juicy enough prize that the Global counsel is now making a play for it.” Bright ruby red eyes met his own. “Elonia says they brought an entire delegation of high-powered emissaries, all of them wreaking with foul administrative magics. And here’s what’s so awful…”

  Eric’s stomach twisted in knots. “Please don’t keep me in suspense…”

  “They were able to enter New Arcadia without being restricted in any way!”

  Eric’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That can’t be good!”

  “No, it can’t. They’re using some higher authority being, premise… artifact? Who knows. Something foul and awful… or maybe they’ve somehow figured out how to guilt Elonia and make her vulnerable to their gas-lighting bullshit? Or maybe some extra worldly power has decided to stop playing games and just rip Earth away from anyone weaker than them using intergalactic hate-laws as their lever? Fuck if I know.”

  Eric’s eyes flashed. “Okay. More fuckers that will be taken out of the equation shortly. Got it.”

  “Seriously, Eric?”

  His smile was all teeth. “Next?”

  Bunbun sighed. “Caliban’s in a panic. He won’t even say why! And that’s bad. I mean, besides for the obvious reason.”

  “And that is…”

  “Who else are we going to use to sell that Hyperion core top and get it the fuck off our planet?”

  Eric blinked, before he started to chuckle, the cellars soon filling with his roaring laughter. “Oh, we are so fucked. Aren’t we, Bunbun? Everyone’s slamming down their hands right now… because of course they are!”

  Bunbun nodded. “So, what’s the plan, Fearless Leader?”

  Eric’s thoughts raced, forcing himself to focus. “What we need is time. Let’s see if we can get it.”