Luke looked at the flaming tree in front of him. It rolled across the ground, roots clawing, trying to smother the fire. Whenever it came too close he fired another Ignite, keeping the flames alive. The wood charred deeper, bark splitting and hissing.

  Other Black Masks arrived at a run.

  “What the hell? Did you just cast a spell?”

  “Shut up and help me take this thing down,” Luke said.

  He could feel the mana inside him now, energy moving through his veins and draining every time he pushed it outward.

  “Ignite.”

  Fire flared again.

  CRACK CRACK

  More rifle shots slammed into the burning trunk.

  “Got it!” another Black Mask yelled.

  The treant shuddered, split, and collapsed into smoking ruin.

  Luke lowered his hand, breathing hard. The mana inside him felt thin, stretched out and nearly gone.

  All the treants were taken down.

  Luke dropped to the ground with a gasp. “Give me a minute.”

  The Black Masks gathered around him. A medic pushed through the circle.

  “I should be fine,” Luke said.

  “Should be is what most patients say right before they pass out,” the medic replied. “Let us check.”

  “Seriously. Couple of cuts. No big deal.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”

  They checked him over. Luke wasn’t posturing. He had been sliced by a few splintered branches, but nothing deep. Gauze. Nanite bandages. Antibacterial spray.

  “Are you feeling anything from casting that spell?”

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  “Yeah, seriously,” another Black Mask said. “You cast a spell. We saw it.”

  Luke shook his head. “Just tired. Like I ran a marathon.”

  A couple of the Black Masks tried copying his hand motions, speaking in System cadence.

  Nothing.

  “So is it just you?” one of them asked. “You the protagonist or something?”

  Luke snorted weakly. “I don’t know. I don’t think I could get another spell off right now.”

  “We should get you back to the MegaPatch,” the medic said.

  “Agreed,” Luke replied.

  They loaded him into a CatDozer. His squad piled in around him, still buzzing.

  When they reached the gate, Luke said, “You guys should go report this.”

  “You report it,” one of them said. “We’re getting a beer. See you at the bar later.”

  “I don’t know how long this debrief’s going to take,” Luke said. “Probably a while.”

  “When you figure it out, you better tell us,” another said. “I want to be the second guy to cast a spell.”

  “You?” someone laughed. “You were always trash in Towerbound.”

  “Hey, I was level twenty-four.”

  “Yeah, but you were a grinder. Not good.”

  “Shut up.”

  Luke listened to them bicker as they walked off, the noise fading behind him.

  Luke watched his men go off for a celebratory beer after they cleaned themselves up. He realized he wanted to do that too. Clean himself off, that was. Not go for a beer.

  He walked into the Living Core, where he had one of the fifty private rooms. Some people he recognized waved to him. He waved back, distracted as hell, thinking about spells.

  He could feel the mana in him now. Permanently. All the time.

  When he stepped into the Living Core proper, he felt better. The mana there was thicker than in the rest of the MegaPatch. It pressed against him in a way that felt stabilizing instead of draining.

  He went to his room and used the shower, letting the system cycle run until he was finally clean.

  Then he sent the dreaded report.

  He dreaded it because he knew the second he sent it, shit would hit the fan, and he’d be stuck explaining everything.

  Deadlands situational report.

  Exploration in Deadlands is good. Encountered freelance adventurers, guild teams, corporate teams.

  IMPORTANT.

  I used the spell called Ignite in the field.

  He sent it off to WickerBasque and to Mira.

  Then he stared at the screen for a second.

  Maybe he had time.

  Maybe he could make it to the bar before he got summoned. Before a meeting. Before everything turned into questions and charts and leaders staring at him like he was a monkey who could talk.

  He closed the interface.

  If he moved fast, he might get one drink in.

  With clean clothes on—the standard Black Mask off-duty uniform he preferred instead of loose civilian wear—Luke left his room.

  He didn’t quite jog. But he walked fast.

  If he moved with purpose, he could get one beer in. Just one. Enough to decompress before the questions started.

  He was almost at the bar door when his watch pinged.

  “Oh, shit.”

  He glanced down.

  Summoned. Living Core. Meeting hall.

  He stood there for a second.

  ‘They won’t mind if I grab one beer first, right?!

  Then he shook his head.

  ‘No. This was important.’

  He turned around and walked back.

  This time he didn’t detour anywhere. Straight to the meeting hall. Everyone was already there.