“Everyone stay together,” Blix called out from Alf’s back. “Single file. Step only where the person in front of you steps. Alf, confirm with Jane that everyone’s feeds are still off.”

They had been marching a little over thirty minutes and hadn’t detected any signs of pursuit, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. Literally. If the king had more werewolves, he’d be able to locate them any time he wanted. He was probably biding his time, waiting for them to let down their guard before attacking. A guy that called himself the Almighty Unconquerable wouldn’t take setbacks lightly—even minor ones. He’d do everything in his power to make sure the next confrontation ended differently. He’d make sure they were completely surrounded and hit them with everything he had. Blix knew his type. He’d consider it a loss if even one of them managed to escape alive.

But that kind of predictability would be easy to use against him. Blix couldn’t help smiling. She might have even chuckled out loud. The king would need time to gather enough troops to match his ego. He’d need even more time to maneuver them into place. Which would give her more than enough time to turn his vaunted strategies into Swiss cheese. It was shopping time!

“Abraham,” Alf called down the line to the larger elf with Spanish-moss-looking hair. “Jane wants to know if you were trying to lead the Intersys General to us on purpose or if you’re just—her words, not mine—a tunnel-brained, biradial sessile lifeform?”

“I’m an experience artist. It’s what I do.” The elf’s voice was as gnarled and rough as a bristlecone pine. “Just imagine… Eleven brave freedom fighters making their last stand at the top of the world. Outnumbered ten to one by the Almighty Unconquerable’s armies, the unarmed fighters claim victory after victory until they are finally overwhelmed—not by superior strategy but by force of overwhelming numbers. It’s a moral victory, one that will earn them unimaginable fame, an experience to cherish for millennia.”

“So it’s the latter,” Blix deadpanned. “Good to know. Okay, listen up, everybody! You especially, Abraham. If anyone publishes anything at all, I don’t care how innocent or small, you will be out of the guild. Permanently. Because I’ll kill you myself. We are not engaging in any glorious last stands, and we are not backing down. We’re going to totally destroy your King Alexander the Almighty. But we can’t do that if we keep leaking information. Got it?”

“What’s the point of fighting if we can’t publish anything?” Abraham demanded. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t ever be able to publish it. Once we defeat Alexander, you can publish anything you want. And I guarantee there will be a lot more demand for info on the players who defeated Alexander than there would be for info on the players who had a glorious last stand because someone couldn’t wait to publish their stupid feed.”

“You really think it’s possible?” Hanna the Dwarf asked from the back of the line. “Us defeating Alexander? Artisans and experience artists and scientists and whatnots against the number one ranked military strategist in the universe?”

“Not only is it possible,” Blix said. “It’s probable.”

Abraham snorted. “I’m not publishing anything,” he quickly added. “Even a failed attempt will make a great experience. Great leader, I am yours to command.”

“Are we all good here?” She made eye contact with each person in the line. “Good. Our first priority is weapons. Here’s what we’re going to do…” She broke the party into three teams: the team led by Alf scouted ahead to find a defensible location; the team led by Winston, a six-and-a-half-foot, gray-skinned man-like person, searched the area for rocks; and the team led by Hannah the Blacksmith created a platform in a tall elm and used the leather straps they had scavenged from the wagon to hoist the rocks up onto the platform.

When everyone was place, Blix and Alf climbed into the elm and waited.

“Are you sure they’ll send trackers?” Alf had to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun as he looked up at her from a lower branch.

“I’m sure they’ll try,” she said. “But I don’t know how good they’ll be. They may be fresh out of werewolves.”

Alf looked away but not before Blix saw the pain in his expression.

“For what it’s worth,” she said in a gentle voice. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He nodded, but didn’t look up.

“You saw the dust take the bodies away, right? They’ll be fine.”

“In pieces.” His voice was raw as a fresh wound.

“The dust will put them together again,” she insisted. “But even if it doesn’t, you did what you had to do. You didn’t have a choice. They would have killed all of us.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. But that’s the world we live in now. It’s kill or be killed. It sucks, but we have to deal. I hate that it’s like this, but you’re going to have to do a lot more fighting before things get better—especially now that King Ego-xander is gunning for us. When you’re not fighting soldiers, you’re going to be grinding monsters. The day you stop leveling up is the day we both die.”

His shoulders slumped even lower.

Nice, Blix. Just shovel more weight onto him. While you’re at it, why not kick a few puppies and microwave a kitten?

Alf straightened, his attention snapping to the right. Blix followed his gaze to a flicker of motion behind a clump of vine-draped trees. At first she thought they were being spied upon, but seconds later a German Shepherd pushed through the vines, straining against a leash held by a black human male. Flanking the dog handler were four soldiers. Yes! Two of the soldier were carrying long bows. She needed those even more than armor and swords.

Alf looked up at her, tugging at her heart with those big brown puppy eyes. She tried to encouraged him with a nod. She hated herself doing this to him, but she didn’t have a choice.

Alf waited until the trackers passed beneath them before jumping. He landed behind the guards, taking one down with his cane and another with the momentum of his jump. The first two guards barely had a chance to turn around before they were knocked unconscious by that lightning fast club. For someone who hated to fight, he was certainly good at it. She wondered how much of that skill was the dust and how much was him.

“The dog guy!” Blix called out as the handler started running away.

“We’re human,” Alf called after him. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

The handler looked back, uncertainty written on his face.

“I’m not being controlled by an alien.” Alf dropped his cane and raised his hands, fingers spread wide. “Blix isn’t either. She’s a native NPC, and I’m… more complicated.”

“He’s an NPC?” Blix called down and received a nod. “How did you know?”

“My minimap,” he said. “His dot’s gray.”

“Wait… You never told me your minimap could do that. What else can it distinguish? That changes everything.”

He shrugged. “Hey…” He held a hand out to the dog handler. “My name is Alfonzo, but my friends call me Alf.”

“Noah,” the handler said from a distance. “And this is Luna.” He indicated the Shepherd.

“Noah and Luna,” Blix called out. “Welcome to the resistance. Now help Alf loot the bodies. We have more shopping to do.”