Atlas couldn’t help but bask in the satisfaction of the people loving the play. It was one of those rare moments where things just clicked.

  “So, Atlas,” Amber's voice pulled him back to reality, “what are we going to do with all these bones and armor we’ve collected?”

  Atlas gave her a lazy grin, “Well, I kind of thought I’d throw that problem to you and John.” He chuckled to himself, ‘This is so much better than having to rely on Clark in my first life. May that fucker never rest in peace.‘ Out loud, he added, “But hey, your bone armor’s coming along nicely. What are you at now, level 1.5-something?”

  Amber’s eyes lit up, “We’re actually up to version 1.7 now. Those bestial bones really helped.”

  Before Atlas could respond, John burst into the room, interrupting their conversation with an urgency that had them both turning toward him.

  “John,” Atlas greeted, “we were just talking about—”

  “Forget that,” John said, “this is more important.”

  Atlas raised an eyebrow, “Oh? What’s going on?”

  “There’s a new vending machine.”

  Atlas blinked, processing that. “Whoa,” he said, his voice genuinely surprised. “That is new.”

  The vending machines had always been a bit of an enigma, constantly evolving. He liked to think it was some ripple effect from his choices, not anything big but enough to keep things interesting. ‘And this was definitely interesting.‘

  John leaned forward, practically buzzing with excitement, “Yeah, and now... we can make mounts.”

  Atlas’s jaw dropped slightly, “Mounts?” His mind raced at the possibilities. He pictured himself charging into battle alongside Portilla and Crushir, riding some massive war beasts. ‘That would be so badass.‘

  John nodded eagerly, “Yep, all we need are remnants of corpses.”

  “Well then,” Atlas said, grinning wide, “I think we should definitely try that out.”

  “Wait,” Atlas paused, “how are we on coins? I don’t want us experimenting and throwing our finances out of whack.”

  Amber chimed in with a confident smile, “We’re doing great. That horde raid paid off, and the dungeon coins you brought in put us ahead. We’re set.”

  ‘‘‘

  POV : AMERICA UNITED

  Jed Lawson was already having a terrible day. The new wave of refugees had brought a whole slew of problems, and just as he was trying to focus on his card game—his one escape from the madness—one of his men had the nerve to interrupt.

  The extra annoying thing was that his cards were looking good too, two pair, consisting of aces and eights.

  His fingers twitched over the deck as he glanced up, his patience hanging by a thread.

  “Jed,” the man started, his voice hesitant, "we're getting increased sightings of skeletons. That skeletal horde we heard about from Fort Bone… seems they’ve breached the walls and are rampaging through our territory."

  Jed’s eyes flicked up, cold and sharp. “What the hell?” he spat, leaning back in his chair. His mind raced. ‘Skeletons? Here? That couldn’t be right.‘

  “There ain’t no skeleton dungeon around here.”

  The man swallowed, visibly uncomfortable under Jed’s piercing gaze. “Well…” he shuffled his feet, glancing at the other men around the table, “It might not be a hundred percent random that these skeletons popped up in our territory. There’s a play about it. Have you seen it?”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Jed’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he narrowed his eyes. He hated when people danced around a point. “What play?” he growled, a warning tone in his voice.

  The man coughed. “Err…” he hesitated, “maybe you should watch it.”

  The room had grown still. Jed could feel the eyes of the other players on him, waiting, watching. The air felt thick with nervous tension. He threw his cards down with a sharp smack against the table, irritation gnawing at him. “Alright, looks like we’ve got ourselves a field trip.”

  Jed rose, his movements slow and deliberate. His men followed, the atmosphere shifting as they realized the storm that was brewing within him. They teleported to Fort Bone without a word, the crackle of energy around them barely registering over Jed’s growing fury.

  ‘‘‘

  Once at the Grand Theater, Jed sat down, his face an unreadable mask as the show began. But as it went on, his expression darkened, his hands gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white. His blood boiled.

  “What the hell?” he hissed, his voice low, dangerous. ‘How dare they use my image!‘ The actor on the stage barely resembled him, and yet they’d managed to turn him into a walking, talking stereotype, mocking every aspect of his life. And that part about Olivia? ‘I didn’t meet with her to talk about any damn alliance!‘ His heart thudded in his chest, the insult cutting deep.

  The play mercifully ended, but the conversation about skeletons had just started.

  One of his men cleared his throat nervously. “Well, uh, I think from what I heard in the tavern… The skeletons didn’t just breach the walls. Atlas had adventure teams lead the skeletons straight through. Figured we should get a share of them, I guess.”

  Jed felt a white-hot rage flare up inside him. He stood abruptly, pacing in front of his men like a caged animal. “I didn’t ask for no damn skeletons in my territory!” His voice boomed, vibrating with fury.

  His man shifted awkwardly. “Well they definitely didn’t ask us whether we wanted any. We just… got them.”

  The final thread of Jed’s patience snapped. He slammed his fist into the armrest with a force that made the whole chair shudder. “I’m getting payback for this,” he growled, his eyes wild with anger. The room felt small, too small to contain the rage burning inside him. “Send out the army, and put a bounty on those skeletons. We can’t have 'em rampaging around if we want to win those hundred tokens.”

  His men nodded, but the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. Jed stood there, breathing heavily, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge. Atlas had crossed a line. And Jed? He was about to make sure everyone knew just how big a mistake that was.

  ‘‘‘‘

  Jed and his men stormed toward the castle, every footstep heavy with the weight of his simmering anger. The air around him felt charged, his men silent as they approached the entrance. A guard stood at the front, straightening up as he recognized Jed—ironically, from the very show Jed had just watched.

  “I’m Jed Lawson from America United, I want to speak to Atlas.”

  "Atlas isn’t here," the guard said, his voice steady, though a flicker of recognition passed across his face. "But Olivia’s in town, if you want to meet with her."

  Jed’s jaw clenched, his mind racing. He was pissed, but had no interest in starting a bloodbath—not yet, anyway. "Fine," he grunted. "Take me in."

  The walk through the castle halls felt suffocating. Each step echoed off the walls, amplifying the tension boiling inside him. When they reached the war room, the sight of it made Jed’s gut churn. The trophies hung high, looking down on him like silent witnesses to Fort Bone's victories, each a mocking reminder of the Portal Crushers' strength.

  Olivia was waiting, composed and confident as always. “Jed Lawson,” she said, a small, calculated smile curling at her lips. "Is this your first time in our town?"

  Jed’s reply came sharp and cold, "Sure is. Don’t reckon you’ve been down to our parts, have ya?"

  Olivia’s smile didn’t waver. "No, I’ve been there. It’s a nice place. I like the whole frontier justice and American Wild West feel of it."

  Jed’s gut twisted. Something was off. "Funny," he said, eyes narrowing like a hawk sizing up prey. "I don’t recall ever meetin’ you before."

  Olivia’s eyes gleamed, but her tone stayed casual. "Well, we were kind of busy running around trying to put out fires."

  Jed wasn’t buying it. His temper flared hotter. "Strange how in the play we’ve crossed paths, but in truth, we ain’t never met, huh?"

  Olivia laughed, a light, dismissive sound. "Oh, the play!" she exclaimed, waving a hand. "I don’t know how that part wound up in there. But you know how those scriptwriters are. You give them a little bit of a story, and they embellish it like it’s a cloud of cotton candy. It just gets fluffier, sugarier, and has no substance to it. I wouldn’t worry much about it."

  Jed’s fists clenched at his sides. "Change it."

  Olivia’s expression softened, but her words remained firm. "I really can’t. We’re not dictators here. Will has his own rights to the theater, and we don’t have the ability to just cancel the show or make him change something just because we don’t like it. In fact, Alexander has lots of problems with the show."

  Olivia didn’t bother to mention the real reason Alexander didn’t like the show—he thought they didn’t make him look handsome enough. That detail, she decided, was best left unsaid.