Things like the appearance of another spellcaster in the world would shake up the balance of power across all the districts, but that was something Victor wasn’t dealing with right now.

  Victor was in his mansion reading reports.

  Unlike some families, like the Frosts, who believed ostentation was a sign of low-class behavior, the Drenwalds believed in displays of strength and impressive exteriors. This room was a perfect example of it: tall, book-shaped shelves stuffed full of leather-bound books chosen for their looks, not their information; a crackling fireplace; and two overstuffed chairs, all decorated and painted in Drenwald colors.

  He had just come back from a trip to the Deadlands.

  The reason he had to go on the trip himself was because that idiot Fredrich, had failed to take a Heart Node.

  Frederich had initially led an official District 10 expedition, flanked by several SecuriCorp companies, to take the Heart Node. Reports had come back that they had taken it. Frederich had even forwarded that to their father, Winston, and to Victor, with a clear look what I can do tone behind it.

  It was only later, when Winston Drenwald had asked what the Heart Node did and how it all worked, that Frederich had to admit via a different message that no, they had never taken the Heart Node. They’d come really close, but goblins had multiplied dramatically and some of them even had weapons—full-on guns—slaughtering the SecuriCorp companies, and Frederich had only barely survived and made it back into the districts.

  This admission of failure led to Frederich being removed from his position as head of external forces and quietly reassigned to logistics.

  And that, in turn, had led to Victor’s most recent trip into the Deadlands.

  Victor took another slow sip of his expensive whiskey, the crystal glass catching the firelight.

  In his other hand, he rolled a mana fragment between his fingers, turning it thoughtfully as it pulsed with a faint inner glow.

  He thought about the trip.

  It had taken several days.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t had to walk. The District 10 labs had assembled a small fleet of vehicles capable of handling the Deadlands, including one prototype command vehicle.

  They’d warned him, “This might not last long under heavy pressure, but it should get you there and back.”

  Victor had replied evenly, “Good. Because if I get stranded in the Deadlands without transportation, the next group heading out will be all of you.”

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  The lead technician swallowed hard.

  Victor had headed out, surrounded by over a dozen SecuriCorp companies, with scouts from their Mercenary Forces—the unofficial ones—ranging ahead and flanking wide.

  They re-approached the Heart Node in strength.

  Goblins poured out to meet them.

  Some of the little green bastards had guns. Real ones. They even fired on the command vehicle, rounds pinging off reinforced plating.

  It didn’t matter.

  With the full weight of District 10’s forces, they pushed through.

  He still thought of all the goblins that he had killed personally.

  BOOM BOOM BOOM

  Unlike the CatDozers, which had mounted turrets with men behind them, his guns were completely electronic, firing at a ridiculous rate and splattering goblins left and right.

  “This is how you do it,” Victor had said.

  This time, they took the node.

  Victor had been given the configuration choices at the Heart Node.

  He selected Open for teleportation access. He wasn’t concerned about outsiders entering his biome. If anyone came through, they would be met by layered patrols and overlapping fields of fire.

  He never deployed loose guards. He deployed rotating, armed patrol units with command relays and response timers.

  The only limitation was permanent fortification. They still lacked the materials and stability data to build something that would last inside an active biome.

  For spawn behavior, he selected Overflow.

  He had already seen how valuable mana fragments were. If monsters generated supply, then monsters were an asset.

  Random spawns meant steady income.

  The more monsters, the more fragments.

  He remembered Ren claiming the monsters would destroy the world.

  From what Victor had observed, that assessment lacked imagination.

  Monsters were income.

  More monsters meant more mana.

  ‘But really, what would you expect of a slumdweller who had miraculously turned into a Voice?’ thought Victor. ‘Cowards. No idea how to really take advantage of an opportunity like this.’

  This was a once-in-a-generation opportunity, a chance to firmly cement the Drenwalds not just as the leaders of District 10, but maybe even the leaders of all the districts.

  He drank some more from his whiskey glass.

  There was a light knocking on his door.

  Victor looked up, surprised. He had told them not to contact him unless it was an absolute emergency. All of his subordinates knew that absolute emergency really did mean absolute emergency, not something merely important.

  So Victor put down his whiskey and said, “Come in.”

  The subordinate walked in, glanced at the other overstuffed leather chair, but didn’t even think about sitting down.

  “Mr. Drenwald, the report that you asked for has been finished.”

  “Good.”

  He could have had these emails and reports sent to him, but by having several layers of gatekeepers he avoided the petty bullshit. That’s how he had always run Prosperous within Towerbound, and there was no need to change it.

  That was also why he had far more free time than when Adhir had taken over the guild and seemed to want to micromanage everything.

  Victor looked down at the paper sheets in front of him.

  Adventure teams were going out there collecting mana fragments for him.

  His off-the-books security teams were doing a good job ambushing others in different biomes.

  And there seemed to be a new mana-resistant formula circulating on the security AI net that their scientists had purchased, allowing them to harden the electronics and devices in District 10.

  “We need to step up our corporate spies. I have a feeling District 1 is doing something sneaky,” said Victor to his assistant.

  “Got it,” said the man. “I’ll pass it along.”

  “And also make sure you use all the videos of me heroically slaughtering goblins from our trip to post on our MetaTube.”

  “Got it.”

  Victor leaned back in his chair, sipped some more whiskey, and thought, ‘Life is good. And it’s only going to get better.’