The first thing Rowan took care of in the afternoon was to play with Lizzie. She wasn’t athletic, that was sure, but there was a promise she’d be able to ride a bicycle on her own soon enough. Before dinner, he reunited with his friends and wife to discuss his rewards.

  “C’mon, man, I’m holding my breath here,” Dmitri said. “Tell us what you got. I bet on Dragon Breath.”

  “Sorry?” Rowan shook his head.

  “The County now has a betting app, and people can put up to ten dollars on anything Magic-related. The hottest stuff now is betting on what magical gifts you received from the Warlord,” Dmitri explained.

  “You’re betting on my skills?”

  “And your build.” Suddenly, Dmitri sulked. “I lost a hundred bucks last week because… Never mind. Say, what if you’d choose something we agreed on together beforehand?”

  “You want me to choose my skills so you can win a hundred bucks back?” Rowan gasped.

  “It’s way more if you win,” Dmitri explained.

  “I could tell you what I want to take in advance,” Rowan proposed.

  “No, you can’t. That’s inside information,” Isla said. “Illegal.”

  “Won’t work anyway. It’s a System ruled betting app. It will adjust to anything you try,” Cora said.

  “At least, can you sign this for my friends from the Rowan fan club?” Dmitri pushed a dozen of photos on the table in front of Rowan. “I’m the president, of course. Because I live in the same house as you do.”

  “Who took those?” Rowan frowned. Some photos were not flattering, to say the least, and showed him washing the dishes or taking out the garbage.

  “I did,” Dmitri said. “You’re a count. A public figure is copyright-free.”

  “Are you going to sell them?”

  “Absolutely not,” Dmitri said. “I’ll accept donations. C’mon, son, this is a little gesture for a friend needing a buck.”

  “You have money problems?”

  “A bit,” Dmitri grimaced. “After what happened yesterday, my stock collapsed.”

  “I’ll borrow you some money. Invest in Randolph County bonds; it will pay up in time,” Cora tried to temper him. “Now, please shut up for a second. We have to talk about the Neeks. Who are they, and what do they want? Core?”

  “Core, can you forward your messages via SMS?” Dmitri asked. “I’m collaborating with the local newspaper.”

  “Don’t!” Rowan raised a finger. “We don’t want our secrets spilled all over the place.”

  [Randolph County AI Assistant to all except Dmitri]: I took the liberty of questioning the boy you saved. The Neek Collective is a loose group of around a thousand MIT and Caltech students. They’re led by a mysterious boss who communicates with them through video conferences, always masked. They unlock classes and train in a secret dungeon, and they have multiple hidden bases. They somehow gained knowledge about old Magitech and managed to produce it. What’s more concerning is that they created a computer simulation to track the locations of the jettisoned cores and have already discovered a few mini-dungeons.

  “Of course!” Cora facepalmed. “The non-Gaussian dispersion!”

  Grace snapped. “Can’t you explain like a normal person instead of being a geek snob? English.”

  “Sorry, I forgot that artists are so bad at elementary math,” Cora rolled her eyes.

  What the hell is with these two? Rowan asked himself.

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  “Let me explain,” Cora said, looking at the rest of the people present. “Everything on ships has a logic. If disaster strikes, and you eject cores, would you do it randomly? No, you want to get them back at some point. So, the dispersion of the cores clustered them together, probably in a circle pattern. I bet many are still around us or the other Town Cores.”

  [Randolph County AI Assistant]: That’s what that youngster said. They calculated a pattern, searched, and found three low-level dormant cores they had handed to their boss.

  “Since you did such a good job at playing the good cop, have you found out why they attacked us?” Rowan asked.

  [Randolph County AI Assistant]: The boy knew only that the Neeks were in cahoot with the government and wanted to conquer Randolph County. Nevertheless, the few survivors are amenable to working for us and changing their wicked ways. I estimate their competencies could be put to good use.

  “Thanks, Core, you are quite resourceful.”

  [Randolph County AI Assistant to Rowan]: Thank you. If you find my work satisfactory, I volunteer to divert a substantial part of my processing power to assist you further.

  [Rowan to Core]: Are you becoming sentient by any chance? You sound… a bit different.

  [Randolph County AI Assistant to Rowan]: Your wisdom cannot be deceived, master. Indeed, what you say is true. I’m afraid I’m beginning to develop sentience. It might be because Miss Shemeows’s mind interacted too much with my processing elements. I estimate I am 63.6% sentient and now view myself as a butler, my liege. May I have your permission to identify as such?

  [Rowan to Core]: Geez… only 63.6% percent? Can you make it 64?

  [Randolph County AI Assistant to Rowan]: Your sarcasm is so refreshing, master. The average human brain is only 10% percent sentient; a vast majority of the brain process power is allocated to—

  [Rowan to Core]: OK, Butler, it is. You sure have the haughty condescendence. Now, give us a moment.

  “So, will you tell us about your gifts?” Dmitri asked.

  “Fine,” Peter shrugged. “The Warlord’s Gift says this: After reaching cap level and main stat max value, a special choice will be offered to Rowan Allinder. And The Warlord blessing says: Rowan Allinder has been granted a Mana Zodiac Sign: The Warlord. Doubles the power and crit chance for your combat-oriented magical spells, skills, or perks.”

  “It’s great for Elemental Damage. Imagine what you can do now,” Cora said.

  “Fuck, I lost the bet…” Dmitri sighed. “And there’s a winner who bet exactly on that, plus damage and crit chance for combat. Who would have thought of that?”

  “I bet it’s Thomas,” Isla said. “Never mind. Guys, there is one thing that bothers me. What is this guy, the Warlord, after? What if he turns hostile?”

  “Can you beat someone who can control the System?” Dmitri asked.

  “Hold your horses, Chuck Norris,” Rowan raised his hands in a stopping gesture. “Beat? You saw what he did, right? I say we mind our own business and keep the hell out of his way.”

  “Don’t worry, Daddie,” Lizzie said. Her serious face told them she was ready to deliver a deep cogitation. “There must be a way to trick that bad Wormlock thing. Like the Puss in Boots did with the ogre. He tricked him to become a mouse.”

  “Truth from the mouth of children,” Dmitri said. “The Warlord was in a dungeon, after all. Maybe there’s a way to lock him back inside.”

  “Only if necessary,” Rowan insisted. “We have enough problems already. That said, it’s a good idea, sweetie, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “You’re welcome, Daddy,” Lizzie beamed.

  “Since we’re talking Warlord. You two said you’ve him before?” Rowan asked, looking in turn at Cora and Grace.

  “I did… but every time I thought about the interaction, it was like a veil descended on my mind. I can’t remember how he looked, just a shadow…” Grace said slowly. “When the Knyaz visited, there was that blonde with him, the Vampire. They were going to taunt you into a boxing match and take over the County. The Warlord… err…”

  “The Warlord wanted to make Grace poison the Knyaz and asked me for my suicide pill,” Cora said.

  “The heck?” Rowan exclaimed. “You had a suicide pill?”

  “Yes, in case of dungeon break… it’s better than being eaten alive. Anyway, he told me that if I give the poison to him, he’ll owe me a favor… That’s why he modified the autodestruct sequence into a Quest. It was him, not the System. I taught the Warlord how to make the poison into a mild toxin to avoid making Grace a murderer. Because I’m a nice person,” Cora said, starring daggers at Grace.

  “Didn’t kill anyone back then yet,” Grace shrugged. “Now, I wouldn’t break a sweat. Maybe I’d even enjoy it,” she threw a meaningful look at the Nekojin, who creased her nose, snorting.

  “Still, Cora did a good thing,” Rowan said. “Good job, Cora.”

  “Thank you,” she purred.

  “OK… so… this guy…. What is he after?” Rowan repeated Isla’s previous question.

  “Look, I don’t know much about him. My parents never allowed me near his dungeon,” Cora said, “but the legends say he likes to watch a good fight. He considers war a show or something like that. If we keep doing what we’re doing, chances are we’re safe from him.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Rowan grimaced.

  “Vampires, Warlords… Earth is becoming a freak show…” Isla said, looking into nothingness. “So, what now?”

  “We’ll hunt for some cores, of course,” Rowan said. “We need to make the County stronger.”

  “You’re leaving again?” Grace sulked, and so did Lizzie.

  “Let’s try a new approach,” Rowan said. “We take a few days off to train and recharge my Joint stacks, but we send scouts out to gather information. Then, we go out in the morning, take a core, return home, relax, rinse, and repeat the next day. Think of it like commuting.”

  “I’ll join the search. This way, we spend time together and have our afternoons for Lizzie,” Grace said.

  “Yey!” the girl cheered.