The way he figured it, the Build an Empire quest required him to sell 100 items, but it hadn't said that he had to sell 100 items to different people. If Charlie had KarmaCoin to spare, why not use him for all he was worth? That meant that Logan could satisfy the requirements of the quest with time to spare.

To make sure he wasn't missing anything, he pulled up the full description of the quest:

[Build an Empire! Craft ten lodestone access points and sell 100 items within 48 hours.]

[Reward for completing the Quest: Lord status. Lord status will allow you to declare yourself the lord of your community, receive pledges of loyalty, and Karma tax.]

[Penalty for not completing the Quest: All future KarmaCoin earnings will be reduced by fifty percent. In perpetuity.]

[Quest Progress: 8% complete. 21 hours remaining.]

Huh. His quest progress had gone up from 7% to 8%. Logan hadn't crafted any additional lodestone access points, so it could only mean that other people had bought items from his existing lodestones back at Richton's Tomb or the cabin.

He didn't like the look of that depleting time. After he finished crafting the lodestone in Damsel's complex, he still needed to find seven other locations. Technically, he supposed that he could sell 100 items here and then craft the remaining lodestones in the same place, but that would be a hell of a waste.

He wasn't doing this just to satisfy the quest… he wanted to build an actual empire. To do that, he needed KarmaCoin. To get the most bang for his buck, he needed to craft lodestones in popular areas, areas where he'd have thousands of potential customers.

But he had no illusions that he could just walk into Damsel's complex, set up his lodestone and then leave. His luck score wasn't that high. Charlie was one thing, but Damsel had soldiers guarding the perimeter of the complex and who knew how many other 'draftees' that she'd converted into followers.

"Voss," said Logan, giving the man a look. "What are the chances that the soldiers at Damsel's complex won't attack me?"

Voss swallowed. "Low, mate. Low like on the level of never going to happen."

"How many are there? Not just soldiers, but people who follow Damsel?"

Voss adjusted his injured hand, a look of pain crossing his face. "The soldiers cycle out, go in shifts, so there must be… at least, what? Thirty? Yeah, I'd imagine thirty at least, mate. Plus, all the others who've been through Damsel's draft system. They might feel like they need to attack you to keep the civilians safe. If you show them that you're not a threat, you might be able to talk them down from violence."

Logan worried his tongue against his cheek. Fuck, this was turning into a complicated situation. How could he quell the loyalty of these Damsel followers while leaving the people who were caught up in this situation alone?

It was yet another case of society breaking down. In a normal world, they could have rounded up Damsel's followers and tried them, brought evidence against them. After all, according to Voss and Lachlan, other people had joined these fighting parties and they'd ended up dying not because of monsters, but because Damsel and Charlie had judged them 'unfit.' They'd killed them.

But who did the killing? And who were forced to join the fighting party, and their only sin was the sin of inaction? Logan didn't like the idea of killing indiscriminately. No, if he killed someone, he wanted to know it was justified.

"These soldiers," said Logan. "Who are they?"

Voss snorted. "The worst of the worst. XP harvesters, murderers. Damsel attracted a pretty despicable crowd, mate." He nodded at Charlie. "But you're asking the wrong man. I wasn't even officially 'in' yet—this was my required fighting party to become a citizen. Charlie's the one who ran the show."

Beads of sweat were trailing down Charlie's face, blood seeping from the wounds on his neck. Logan had stabbed him with his talons, carving deep fissures into his skin and the meat of his shoulders. But even though Logan had forced him to cooperate, there was a calculating glint in his eyes that Logan didn't like.

"Well?" Logan barked.

Charlie blinked, his eyes wide, his expression guileless. "I don't know what he's talking about, mate. Bunch of bull as far as I'm concerned. How can you trust this weakling, anyway? Talks a big game, disparaging Damsel only to make himself look better. No one's attacking anyone, we're a civilized lot!"

"Sure," said Logan, dry.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

All right, then. He'd left Logan with no choice. By now, he trusted Voss' word over Charlie's any day of the week. And yet, there was no reason he couldn't receive confirmation. Moving so fast he must be a blur, Logan grabbed Charlie's arm, clamping down on his wrist, and twisted.

There was the distinct sound of a bone breaking followed by a bellow of pain. Charlie screamed, twisting in his grip, struggling to get away.

"That's not going to get you anywhere." Logan grabbed his other arm, digging his talons in deep. "If you lie to me, I won't just break this arm, I'll tear it off. I think you know the survival rate of someone with an injury like that."

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!" Charlie's face was bloodless. Panting, he stuck his tongue out like an overheated bird. "I'll tell you! Oh shit, don't do it! Please!"

"These soldiers. The ones wearing the uniforms and masks. Do they follow Damsel because they must? Or are they true believers?"

Voss sidled up to Logan, his voice urgent. "Ask him what they have to do to become a soldier."

Logan tightened his grip and then jerked Charlie's arm to the side in an awkward angle, dislocating his shoulder. "You heard the man."

Charlie screamed. "Oh fuck! A kill! A kill! They have to kill at least one person on a draft expedition!" His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Weed out the weaklings, see. Is that what you wanted to hear, motherfucker?"

It would do.

Logan released Charlie, his mouth in a grim line. He'd received confirmation. All the confirmation he needed. Although there wasn't a judge and a jury, there was Logan's sense of justice, and he knew what he needed to do.

The soldiers needed to die.

Damsel was alive; she'd return once her wounds healed and her portal skill reset. The only way to transform the complex was to make it so unattractive to Damsel that she'd abandon it to its own devices. There were XP harvesters, and then there were XP harvesters like the Man in Black. Damsel may have killed people in these fighting groups when no one else was watching, but she'd protected thousands of low-level civilians. Civilians that included children and seniors. There was no way that she would come back and kill them all.

In a way, it was ranking the worst of what this Integration had to offer against the less-than worst. Damsel wasn't the Man in Black. If she returned to a complex devoid of her supporters, full of innocent people, Logan was betting that she'd abandon it entirely.

But he'd have to weed out her supporters in the first place.

Making a snap decision, Logan cracked his neck and then willed out his sword. Picturing Damsel's complex in his mind, he deployed [Threshold Shift] and mentally latched onto both Charlie and Voss.

Logan felt a brief, trickling sensation like he'd jumped through a pocket of cold weather, before he blinked, staring. He'd sent them outside of the complex, back on the street where Logan had initially approached.

That was for a reason.

He'd had a brief thought that Damsel might have teleported here, but unless she was completely lacking in tactics, she would have known that Logan would return. No, she would have gone somewhere else.

"Stay close," he said to Voss. "But not too close. I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

Voss gave him a look of alarm.

Cracking his neck one more time, Logan grasped Charlie by the back of his shirt and then dragged him forward. The complex was fifty feet in front of them. Soldiers were lined up in front of the line of junkyard vehicles, huge tires stacked on top of each other on one side, what looked like a rusty travel trailer on the other.

The soldiers wore black masks, topping them off with black vests and worn combat boots. Unlike Charlie, they didn't have bush knives or swords—instead each of them held a black rifle.

Logan scanned them while at the same time, reaching deep. He'd only done this a few times—once at the resort to intimidate Brad, and once against Thorin to make him back down—but if he could make it work, it would be a weapon on its own.

Back in Pied's Kingdom, when Pied had gotten angry, his aura had incapacitated Logan. If Logan could do the same thing, it might stun the soldiers into giving up information that would delay their death.

Biting his lip, he focused on his core, deep in his gut, and then imagined his aura radiating out of his body in a killing intent, broadcasting violence, a don't fuck with Logan aura. Gradually, he felt his anger ratchet up, his nerves surging, his breathing increasing. Blasting his aura was having the unintended side effect of making him angry. His knuckles creaked, his talons clicking as he clenched his fists.

Behind him, Voss gasped.

Logan turned his head.

Voss had paled, trembling, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide. The fingers on his uninjured hand were twitching spasmodically as if he couldn't help himself. "W-what are y-you doing?"

Well, that answered whether it worked.

Charlie twisted in Logan's grip like a worm, trying to get away from Logan, wiggling, the back of his neck flushed. He couldn't seem to decide between favoring his broken arm or his dislocated shoulder, his broken arm drooping to the side like a puppet's limb.

"Remember what I said, Voss," said Logan as he tightened his grip on Charlie's shirt. Treating him like a sack of meat, Logan dragged him forward, keeping his aura active as he strode towards the line of soldiers.

As soon as Logan got within fifteen feet, their relaxed stance transformed into rigidity. They straightened, pointing their rifles at Logan and spreading their legs.

"Oi! Out for a nice stroll, are you?" asked one, his voice deep, making him sound older. "What's going on, Charlie? Why are you…"

The man became silent as Logan closed the distance, his aura blasting. At the same time, the others shifted, their shoulders slumping, half of them taking an aborted step back, while others shuffled in place, their faces turned away from Logan as if they were trying to avoid his gaze.

"What's going on here?" snapped a voice, followed by a soldier bursting onto the scene without a mask. Blue eyes. A short, manicured beard.

Nettle.

The soldier from before.

Logan scanned him with [Idiot's Inspect], looking for any hints of a stealth class. If Damsel had a necklace that hid her level, others could too.

[Bill Nettle: Level 45. A human being.]

[Highest Stat: Dexterity. Characteristics: A follower rather than a leader. Hidden name: Nettle.]

Nettle blinked at Logan. "Oi! It's the Canadian! What are you…" He swallowed, his eyes growing wide. "W-what are you…" He looked from Charlie, taking in his bloody neck and broken arm, to the grip that Logan had on the back of his shirt, to Voss behind him. "No Damsel, I see."

One of the soldiers muttered, "Aww, fucknuts."

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