Dire bears. Multiple. They shouldn't be pack animals, yet here they were.

  Grimmblade had discovered he was a bit of a hoarder when it came to legacy equipment. He had kept his best gear from his previous leveling run, so he was currently draped in enchanted, Elven-crafted armor and wielding a mythril blade, all scaled to his level of 64. Despite the pack of bears... a maul of bears? A sloth of bears? No, that couldn't be right.

  He shook the thought away, dismissing his search interface. He knew better than to have UI windows up during active combat. His sword glowed with a cold, silver light, a fusion of moonlight and mythril, while his armor hummed, siphoning ambient magic from the surrounding forest. Buffed by the countless spells Celest had layered on him, the bears weren't a threat; they were a pest. A delay. Around the next bend was the valley he hoped would be their new home.

  Grimmblade roared, triggering his Aggro skill. The massive bears charged in a blind rage. Instantly, the enchantment on his armor flared; thick, thorny vines exploded from the frozen ground, snaring the bears in mid-stride. Grimmblade stood unphased, charging the silver energy in his blade. With one wide, horizontal swing, a crescent of moonlight extended from the steel, neatly cleaving the halted bears in half.

  Celest or SisterQuery, as the rest of the world knew her, stepped forward. She looked over the field of digital carnage. "I’m surprised the world doesn't nerf you," she said.

  He dismissed his blade with a flourish. "I think Coro?en has scaled the world to the average player level. But for now, I’m still the highest-level player on the server."

  "That, and the fact that monsters no longer drop equipment to promote the crafting classes," she said, looking down at her own under-leveled gear.

  It felt like a bit of a misstep by the AI. No one had played a Crafter in the old world, why would they? But now, the only way to get high-tier gear was to find a Crafter who had leveled their skills, and there simply were no Level 60 Crafters. Even Noobkitty, who had reset her level after the fight with The Ender, was only in her mid-twenties. Besides, she didn't make plate mail; she made pastries.

  "Maybe when we start our town, the world will let us recruit some Crafter NPCs," Grimmblade suggested. "A blacksmith, a tanner, a fletcher... actually, useful crafters, instead of..."

  "A vegan baker?" Celest teased.

  "Yeah..."

  "Do these bears drop any good loot?" the Cleric asked, poking a paw at a dissolving corpse.

  "Claws, teeth, furs, meat," Grimmblade listed. "Actually, dire bear meat is top-tier. Grizzlebeard would probably love a shipment of this."

  They stood over the remains, letting the auto-gather function sweep the items into their shared inventory.

  "Dire Stone," SisterQuery read aloud.

  "Oooh, a rare drop!" Grimmblade grinned. "It’s an enchantment component for heavy armor. But..." He sighed. "This world needs more crafters. Do you think Noobkitty would be willing to learn armorsmithing?"

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "Armor used to help players kill mobs?" Celest asked skeptically. "Noobkitty?"

  "Good point. We need a 'Murder-Hobo' Crafter," Grimmblade teased. "Let’s go build our future Murder-Hobo a house. Maybe that’ll entice someone to pick up a hammer."

  They continued their climb until they reached the crest of a high ridge. Below them lay a hidden valley. Despite the harsh, frozen world around them, the valley was lush, green, and strangely warm. Surrounded by jagged mountains, it was easily defensible, just in case Coro?en decided it needed a new "Event." A crystal clear stream wound through the center, and the land was rich with timber and stone.

  They squeezed each other’s hands. After weeks of searching, they had found it: the site of the second town in the rebirth of Coro?en.

  Grimmblade pulled up the Town Builder interface and looked at Celest. "Alright. Are we ready to get this Sourdough started?"

  Celest rolled her eyes. "Please never say that again."

  ----

  In the Sands of the South

  The dungeon loomed through the shifting sands, looking ominous and strangely out of place with its Roman pillars. The issue wasn't the architecture, though, it was the door. It was massive, stone, and very much closed.

  "Maybe it’s... this?" Skidmark muttered, leaning in to examine the masonry. He pressed a recessed switch. Immediately, three poisoned darts hissed from the wall, gliding over the sand before landing harmlessly.

  Congratulations!

  You are 1 out of 5 Trap Detections away from unlocking the skill: Detect Trap.

  "Nice! New skill soon!" Skidmark cheered.

  "Skidmark, you're supposed to avoid the traps, not trigger them with your face," Deadsilence scolded. "And maybe work on your lockpicking while you're at it."

  "I already maxed that out," he countered. He pulled a pair of pins from his belt, cleared some sand from a lower mechanism, and unlocked the massive door in three rhythmic clicks.

  "Show off," Deadsilence muttered.

  HelzBom patted her son on the head as the stone door slid sideways. "Good job, Skid."

  They stepped into the darkened antechamber. Skidmark’s foot landed on a slightly raised pressure plate. Click.

  BOOM.

  An explosion sent the boy flying across the room into a pile of soft sand.

  You received -54 Impact Damage.

  You are now 2 out of 5 away from unlocking Detect Trap.

  "Oh, I’m not letting you get the skill first, kid," Deadsilence challenged. She drew her dagger and began meticulously examining the walls. She found a small control wire and neatly snipped it.

  Congratulations! You are now 1 out of 5 away from acquiring Detect Trap.

  Congratulations! You are now 1 out of 5 away from acquiring Disarm Trap.

  Deadsilence stuck out her tongue. "That’s how a real Rogue does it, son."

  "Hey! I found the first one! And yours didn't even go off! I should get Disarm credits too!" Skidmark demanded.

  Congratulations! You are now 1 out of 5 away from acquiring Disarm Trap.

  "Unbelievable. The system is totally biased toward our son," Deadsilence grumbled.

  "Son, is that really skill-grinding?" HelzBom asked.

  "Yes?" Skidmark said hesitantly.

  "Well, after you unlock Detect, try to actually disarm them," HelzBom said. She paused, then pulled a sparkling, spherical device from her inventory. "Or, actually..."

  She tossed the device into the air. It exploded into a shimmering cloud of fine glitter. The powder drifted through the room, settling into the cracks of the floor and walls. Wherever a trap trigger or hidden mechanism sat, the glitter glowed with a bright, neon intensity.

  Congratulations! Player HelzBom has unlocked Detect Trap!

  "What the heck, Mom! You aren't even a Rogue!" Skidmark yelled.

  "Sweetheart, that feels like cheating," Deadsilence added.

  "Creativity is part of the skill system," HelzBom said plainly, stepping over a glowing tripwire. "Besides, why are you two griping at me? Shouldn't you be racing to see who unlocks Disarming first?"

  The two Rogues looked at each other, then at the glitter covered room. With daggers and tools out, the race was on.