I pulled up my status sheet for what felt like the thousandth time.

  [Displaying status sheet.]

  Name: Aiden Kaesor

  Species: Human

  Level: 27

  Class: Auramancer

  Bloodline Class: Hollow Web Lord

  [Bloodline of the Hollow Web Lord] - The dormant power of the Web Lords lay within the essence of your being. That power has now been awakened. Enhances all vision and Gaze based effects. Enhances race based physique with Bloodline traits (25%). Unlocks additional Bloodline skills.

  Bloodline: Hollow Web Lord 98%.

  Titles: Bloodline Hegemon, Soul-Sheer Conqueror, Auric Bastion.

  Attributes:

  Strength: 62 (50+12)

  Dexterity: 62 (50+12)

  Endurance: 47

  Intelligence: 32

  Perception: 46

  Charisma: 52

  Luck: 60 (28+7+27)

  Unused points: 21

  Hollow Web Form:

  Strength: 74 (50+24)

  Dexterity: 66 (46+22)

  General Skills:

  [Inventory (Common)]

  [Sprint (Common)]

  [Venom Resistance (Uncommon)]

  [Ambush Predator (Uncommon)]

  [Familiar Soul Bond (Common)]

  [Analyze (Common)]

  [Venom Assimiliator (Rare)]

  [Mana manipulation (Rare)]

  [Constellation of Soul (Unique)]

  [Pain Mitigation (Uncommon)]

  Class Skills:

  [Spirit Forge]

  [Aura Manipulation]

  [Auric Armour]

  [All-Seeing Eye (Unique)]

  Bloodline Skills:

  [Web walker's Grace]

  [Authority of the Hollow Web]

  [Hollow Web Metamorphosis.]

  [Fell Gaze]

  Spells:

  [Gaze of Bane]

  [Edge Glare]

  While it was certainly much more impressive than it had been when I was an idiot scrambling around the Soul-Sheer and trying not to die, it unfortunately hadn't changed much in more recent times. Most of the improvements I'd made had been things that weren't reflected by the simple numbers and names on my status sheet. After all, it didn't list casting time or variations of Spells. The System, it seemed, was happy enough to give up hard information when it was warranted, but was loath to give up anything that would be considered peripheral. At least that was the impression I had of it.

  A half step back and a flicker of thought dismissed my status sheet as a fist flew past, just barely missing the tip of my nose. "You're going to have to try harder than that, System enhanced reflexes are no joke," I said as I turned on my heel, slamming an open palm into my brother's back, right between the shoulder blades. An ugly crack of air resounded through the training room, followed by a long bout of hissing and curses from Sean as he stumbled several steps. "If you're going to try to punch above your weight class, it's going to be an uphill battle. The numbers don't lie, and they are an ice-cold bitch when you're on the wrong side of them."

  "The shit am I supposed to do then?" He groaned, trying to reach his back where I'd struck him. "Trying to hit you is like trying to catch lightning in a bottle. Pointless and painful." I couldn't help but snicker a little at his predicament.

  "You're kind of up shit creek without a paddle, little brother. I've got almost four times the amount of Dexterity you have, I'm a better fighter, and I have more experience than you. This would be much more even if any of those things weren't true."

  "So, skill issue, and get good, is your sage wisdom, Aiden, really?"

  I barked out a harsh laugh. "Unfortunately, that's the long and short of it. It's easier against monsters, mostly. While some of them are quite smart, my experience has been that they're still basically animals. People are a whole different game."

  A high pitched beep rang through the training room, the sound of my phone going off. I waved Sean off to take a break while I dealt with it. Flicking through the menus, I found a message from Uncle Wolf.

  Looks like you get your wish. There’s a situation up north.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  You're on deck, kid. Come up to conference room A-2, and we'll go over the details.

  "I've gotta go see Uncle Wolf," I said, turning to Sean while I pocketed my phone. "Think about putting some more points into Dexterity. The Strength helps a bit, but as far as anyone knows, Dexterity is the best for your reflexes." I was quiet for a moment, "You should see if Victor and his team will spar you for a while. Probably be good for both of you."

  "Yeah, yeah, get out of here. Say hi to Uncle for me." I waved as I turned and left the training room, leaving Sean alone to figure out what was next for himself.

  —-

  I found Uncle Wolf seated at the head of the conference table, rapidly swiping on a tablet. Judging by the grimace that his face was twisted into, whatever was going on was squarely in the 'not good' category. Not that I had thought otherwise, but at least it didn't seem like it was world-endingly bad. Just mildly catastrophic rather than totally cataclysmic.

  “Uncle.”

  His head snapped up from the tablet display.

  "Aiden, take a seat." Immediately, his head was back down, gaze once again fixed on the tablet screen. I slipped into one of the nearby chairs and waited for him to speak. There was little point in badgering Uncle Wolf for information, even less so than usual when he was focused like this.

  The silence lingered, disturbed only by the soft tapping of Uncle Wolf’s fingers against the tablet.

  "There—" Uncle Wolf finally tapped the screen with slightly more force than necessary. The large screen at the head of the conference room behind him flicked to life, displaying a map of Canada. It looked like standard fare, all the familiar lines marking the boundaries between provinces, the smattering of points marking large cities and population centers. Pretty standard stuff.

  The map zoomed in on the northern portion of the map, specifically the northwest territories. As the map zoomed in courtesy of Uncle Wolf, still swiping away at the tablet, filled in red circles began to appear all over the area. Each one has a series of numbers inside. For a moment, I did understand what I was looking at, until one of those circles appeared just a few hours outside of Yellowknife. The largest city for miles and miles.

  00:14:32:56

  "Fuck…" The word escaped my lips as I stared at the circle, with what I now realized was a time counting down, Counting down to a dungeon Breach. A dungeon breach near a major city.

  “You see the problem.”

  “How the hell did they miss this?”

  "They didn't. Not entirely, as far as we can tell." I watched Uncle Wolf drag a hand down his face in that way that screamed 'I need a coffee and a cigarette'. "Best we can figure, it came out of nowhere, and it was missed for a while, but eventually flagged for clearing with 40 hours on the clock. Plenty of time." He drained the large mug at his side of its contents in a single gulp. "They sent a five man team in to clean it out, all tier 2. Shouldn't have been an issue. The whole team was wiped out as far as we can tell. No contact for more than 16 hours."

  I watched another circle on the map blink and increment, the soulless digital clock rolling to 00:14:28:13.

  "That's not great. Yellowknife is a four hour flight. Not a lot of time there."

  Yeah," Wolf muttered, voice flat. "Welcome to the north. We're not even sure what flavour of dungeon it is. Glitches on every drone and system probe we send in. That's not the only problem either, the first of several, really."

  I waited patiently for him to continue, leaning back in the office chair, eyes fixed on the large screen.

  "The Vish are up there as well, doing what exactly? That's anyone's guess at this point." He said, "But by this point, people at the top levels are starting to ask pointed questions about the Vish and their possible involvement with the situation up there." A few quick swipes at the tablet's screen and new markers started appearing on the map. Black markers presumably marking locations where the Vish were known to operate or had been spotted. There were dozens of markers in Yellowknife itself, and then more spreading out into the surrounding wilds. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the placement of the markers, no discernible pattern. Not one I could make sense of, at any rate.

  "On top of all that, we, meaning David and I, think there are at least two other teams in the area that could handle this," Uncle Wolf cast me a look full of meaning, "which means this is at least partly a pretext to get you involved in the wider situation up there."

  "I'm not about to complain about that," I said, a sly, involuntary smile touching the corner of my mouth. "Especially not if I get to crack some Vish heads in the process, I'm not done with them yet."

  Uncle Wolf's eyebrows ticked up, just enough to register amusement—or maybe relief. "Just remember, they aren't the job, the dungeon is." The light from the map screen caught the deep lines on his face, but didn't soften them.

  I glanced back at the countdown, running quick mental math. "Even if I caught the next flight north, I'd have less than ten hours on the ground before that dungeon pops and we have monsters running through the streets of Yellowknife."

  "We're arranging a private jet," Wolf said, "but you'll be running point. There isn't enough time to get a proper team up with certain individuals being… uncooperative, and others being less than desirable. Such as your old friends on team seven. We'll be keeping you as far away from each other as possible." It took me a moment to remember who Uncle Wolf was talking about, but eventually the memory surfaced. The group that had barged in after that first dungeon I ran for the Banner had been called Team Seven. Lovely people, if lovely was code for obnoxious and irritating.

  “Probably for the best. I don’t think David would be happy with me if they went missing.” A saccharine grin spread over my face at the thought.

  What happens in the dungeon stays in the dungeon, though. I thought to myself. There had been some threats made during our previous encounter. As much trouble as it would likely cause for David and Uncle Wolf, if I had to, I'd bury that bunch in a dungeon and piss on the unmarked grave for good measure. I wouldn't feel bad about it either.

  "We're pulling a team from the western seaboard to go in with you; they'll meet you at the Yellowknife facility. I'll have the details sent along before you're in the air."

  "You realize I'm probably just going to leave them to their own devices, yeah?" I laughed, "Leader of men, I am not."

  "You say that," Wolf said, and let the words hang. "But you have this weird way of dragging people into your pace anyhow. Or at least along in your wake. Don't break the team, okay?" The look he gave me was half warning, half pride, and all uncle. "Their home facility would like them back in one piece."

  He rattled off the flight numbers and when it would depart, then started running through a rundown of the situation up north. The finer details of Banner politics and personnel, all the little grievances and rivalries that would shape how this operation would play, flew over my head, or at least were categorized into ‘not my problem.’ What actually mattered was that I was finally getting the go ahead to see what all the hubbub was about up north.

  "Uncle, we both know you've already assigned me a driver who already knows all this, so I'm gonna go pack up, yeah? Good talk." I chuckled at the incredulous look on Uncle Wolf's face as I rose from my seat. He was caught, and he knew it.

  "Fine, have it your way, kid. You'll get an info dump sent to your phone anyway."

  "See, was that so hard, Uncle?" I pointed a shit eating grin his way.

  "Get moving, you little shit."

  I went without further comment.

  I had to take the wins where I could get them against the sly old wolf.

  —-

  Kels Morton was not having a good day.

  "What do you mean we're getting shipped out to wipe asses up north?" He crossed his arms, massive biceps bulging against the tight fitted shirt he wore. "We've got enough work to be done here as is." His glare was fixed on the director sitting across the desk from him. She looked like a businesswoman, long comfortable in her own skin and with the power she wielded. Graying hair up in a severe, tight bun, that did her sharp features few favors.

  "I told you Director Giffle is sending his own asset, and he's called in a favor. Hence, you and your team are going up north with this, Kaesor." Kels watched as the director's cold gray eyes flickered away from him to the monitor on her desk, presumably to check whatever dossier she had access to on this Kaesor guy. In Kels' mind, that was as good as admitting she didn't know jack about the guy either. He suppressed a snort. "Fine. We'll do the damn job. Any other bullshit I need to be aware of?"

  She grimaced, which, on another day, Kels might have found hilarious. "Kaesor's going to run more or less solo. You're to offer support, keep the situation contained as best you can until he neutralizes the anomaly. You're there to keep things from getting out of hand and to provide support if the Vish get involved. If the Vish bring it, you bring it worse. Clear?"

  Kels considered mouthing off, but settled for a grunt and a curt nod. “When do we fly?”

  Director Aube’s eyes flicked to her clock, then back at Kels. “Less than three hours. You and yours are already packed,” she said. “You’re dismissed.”

  Kels waited just a moment; there was something else the director wanted to say. He'd worked with her long enough to know at least a few of her tells. Her head canted, just enough to pin him with a sideways look. "One last thing, you are also under explicit instruction not to provoke Kaesor. He is… not a sociable asset." She paused, lips pursed. "But extremely effective. More than the numbers might otherwise suggest."

  Kels grunted, not bothering to hide his disdain. "Effective is one word for it."

  He knew the reputation. Kaesor was like the bogeyman the interns read about on the forums: first day, not even a signed contract, and he soloed a tier two dungeon after coming out of nowhere. The weird kept coming, rumors of some sort of transformation type Skill, strange stat numbers, and other such weirdness that didn't fit into any of the neat boxes that made sense to Kels as a Ranker.

  "Fucking team's gonna hate this. Shit." Kels grunted to himself as soon as the door to the director's office was closed behind him.