The sergeant kept giving Logan furtive looks in the rearview mirror as they followed the convoy. Her eyes were calculating and wary, and her fingers twitched on the steering wheel. When Logan stared into her eyes, she averted her gaze, her shoulders raising defensively. Next to Logan, the other soldier, Dean, had scooted as far away as possible and pressed himself against the door of the car.

Zachary was in the passenger side seat up front, and he kept running his thumb and index finger over the barrel of his rifle, the back of his neck flushed an angry red.

Ever since his encounter with the rats, Emily and the others' attitude had done a 180. As if one wrong move, one wrong breath, would cause Logan to go on a killing spree.

He held back a snort. If they were that impressed watching him go up against monsters as pathetic as those rats, he didn't like their chances. It was the luck of the draw that they hadn't yet encountered someone like the Man in Black or another high ranker. They needed to level up, and level up fast. It was all well and good if you protected civilians, but if their priorities continued to be helping each person level up rather than leveling up their highest-ranking fighters, they would fall behind.

And fast.

When the sergeant peered into the mirror one more time, staring at Logan with narrowed eyes, Logan sighed. "I'm not the enemy. As long as you don't attack me, I'm not going to hurt you. There's no reason to be afraid."

Dean froze, his jaw ticking, and then he turned to face Logan, affronted. "We're not fucking afraid!"

The sergeant and Zachary had also straightened. Zachery turned around to give him a look like he wanted to bash Logan over the head. "You—"

"That's enough, soldier!" the sergeant snapped. She took one of her hands off the wheel and gestured for Zachary to turn around. "The General ordered us to play nice, remember?"

"Yes, ma'am," Zachary muttered, mutinous.

Dean continued to gaze at Logan, studying his armour and giving him a speculative look. "If we're supposed to get along, you wouldn't mind sharing a few tips, yeah?"

Logan felt like pinching the bridge of his nose. "What do you want to know?"

"How did a man like you manage to advance so high without a real weapon?"

"A real weapon? I have a sword." And other things, like skills that could whither you to an old man.

"Yeah, real fancy. That's not a weapon, bro."

Up front, Zachary grumbled in agreement.

Dean grinned at the back of Zachary's head. "Right? Right! A shiny sword is one thing, but one-on-one, a man holding a gun will always win against something from the Dark Ages. How did you manage to survive? Is that thing you're wearing bullet proof?"

Logan glanced down at his armour. His exoskeleton had never been foolproof, and bullets could do damage if hundreds were shot at him at once, but the truth was that by now, [Regenerate] had advanced so much that if he could grow back a hand in minutes, what did bullets matter? These people were too much in a pre-Integration mindset, trusting in technology and modern warfare when the world had transformed. He liked Dean's reference to the Dark Ages. In effect, trusting in guns was like taking swords and armour to a modern fight against regular soldiers. To survive, you didn't need guns. You needed skills. But how could Logan communicate that without them getting their backs up?

"Some of you must have received skills from the System. Telekinesis? Mind manipulation? Even earth moving skills. The army gave you a huge advantage. Without you, I'm sure many civilians would have lost your lives. But you have to understand that once you advance to a certain level, a soldier with a gun but without a skill is like an ant facing an elephant. Guns, rockets, hell, even bombs, none of it will matter against someone that high leveled."

Dean's expression was mulish.

"You have to get wise to what's in front of you," Logan said, flexing his exoskeleton gloves. "You've been lucky so far. But I'm not boasting when I say that your army, your weapons, none of it will matter against a high ranker who wants to do you harm. If you put any stock in my advice, then you need to pick a couple of higher leveled soldiers, soldiers that you trust implicitly, and work on leveling them up. At least to level 100 to have a chance against what's coming."

"What's coming, yeah right," Zachary muttered and then he pushed his face out the window and into the wind as if he were done with the conversation.

The sergeant had gone back to staring at Logan in the rearview mirror, but this time, her expression was thoughtful rather than wary.

They'd passed what had to be ten blocks by now. Rats continued to infest the streets, but these were low leveled monsters who burrowed through the trash. Every time they passed a large swarm, the convoy paused, radios squawking instructing someone to note down the location.

"Five minutes out," said the sergeant.

"We made good time," replied Zachary.

The windows were open, and the stench of rotting refuse wafted into the car, only helped when they miraculously passed a block that was empty of garbage, office buildings on one side. They kept going, past the next block, then came across more trash and dark flashes as rats scurried by. Based on their direction, they were headed west of the original civilian escort.

The car in front of them swerved to avoid something in the road; but they were too close to do the same, and the sergeant was forced to run over…

Yuck.

The remains of another rat. This one had been the size of a cat. Rat roadkill.

Zachary whooped and put his head out of the open window, staring at the remains of the roadkill with a wide smile. "Got one, fuckers!"

"Private," warned the sergeant with a grin.

They continued pouring down the city for another four minutes and then came to a stop behind the convoy with a creak of brakes. On the right, skyscrapers towered over the street, but directly across from them was an explosion of green; elm trees full of green leaves, lush, green grass, and the trickling sound of water falling from a fountain.

Central Park.

Logan had never been here before, but he knew it was massive—much larger than a typical city park. In the Okanagan, they had parks, but although the city kept small portions manicured and sculpted, the rest was wild, full of unkempt willow trees and brush. Central Park was like a small city in itself.

Logan and the others got out of the car and joined the General and his soldiers who were lined up in front of the convoy, waiting.

"Well, son," said Hawthorne, raising one of his silver eyebrows. "I hope you'll make good on your promise."

Logan looked from Hawthorne to the park. He could see nothing but trees. He knew that if he used [Life Fabricator] to scan for life, he'd be overwhelmed with auras. Instead, he deployed [Threshold Shift], activating the scanning ability that had let him find Lara back in Pied's Kingdom. The sensation was jarring at first—like blinking and opening your eyes to an x-ray—but Logan soon scanned past the trees. Grass. More trees. More Grass. Farther up, there was a murky lake, as well as paved paths and benches.

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Nothing that way.

Could he keep scanning? Furrowing his brow, he turned to the left, going deeper into the park until—

Huh.

A wall. A massive wall of stacked concrete blocks that had to be two storeys high like the Berlin Wall. Although Logan had never been here before, he knew that wasn't normal. Not in a green park. It felt unnatural to try to push past the barrier, but Logan gritted his teeth and made the skill take him past the wall, through it, and out the other side.

Into a mass of humanity.

There had to be thousands of tents—some hastily put together, others constructed of wood and tarps. People were moving around the area, milling in front of the tents, worried looks on their faces. While some looked carefree, lying down on the grass on their backs and shielding their faces from the sun as a street musician played a guitar and sang about hope. Soldiers were stationed on the inside wall, a wall of green and weapons. Although they stared into the crowd with bored looks, they stood at attention, alert.

With a blink, Logan collapsed [Threshold Shift].

"How did you manage to find that many concrete blocks?"

Hawthorne narrowed his eyes. Next to him, a soldier shifted and reflexively moved the rifle swung over his shoulder.

"Another skill?" mused Hawthorne. "You're quite the resourceful man. Well, no use standing around. Let's go."

The soldiers, including Emily, snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!"

They led the way into the park, leaving the street behind. There was a flash out of the corner of his eye behind him, and Logan pinned his gaze on a rat scurrying between buildings, trying to stay in the shadows. It was the size of a bear, its claws dripping with a gooey substance that looked like blood. This one's tail was massive, the base of it as wide as his upper arm, the tail curved over its head like a scorpion's.

The rats inside of the warehouse hadn't given him any trouble, but this seemed different. Something about its keenness, and the way it kept trying to disguise itself gave him the creeps.

Logan scanned it with [Idiot's Inspect]:

[Sewage Rat. Level 94. A sewage rat that gorged itself on sewage and waste that was flush with battery fuel. The fuel warped it and caused its ingrown parasites to surge. A bite from the sewage rat will spread its sickness to its prey.]

[Highest Stat: Wisdom. Characteristics: Good at camouflage. Hidden name: Henry.]

It was another sewage rat, this one over level 90, and sentient at that. At least that's what Logan assumed when an animal gave itself a hidden name. Not to mention that unlike the other rats who had agility as their highest stat, this one must have a Karma based skill.

The rat's red eyes glinted at Logan. It opened its mouth in what he'd classify as a grin, its tongue dripping wiggling worms.

Creepy fucker.

"Well," said Hawthorne, who'd come to a stop and was waiting for Logan. "Are you coming?"

"You have a rat problem," said Logan, pointing at the hidden rat.

"Tell me something I don't know. They're all over the city."

"But this one…" Logan gestured at the rat. "See for yourself."

"I don't see anything."

Logan glanced at the rat who—

Was gone.

The hell?

He'd had it in his sights the whole time he'd been talking to Hawthorne. There was no way it could have scurried away without him noticing. And yet Logan was staring at the same spot, and he could see nothing but brick. Running his thumb over his stubble, he deployed [Life Fabricator], searching for its aura. Off in the distance, he could sense an aura just around the corner of the large building, a hint of life. Not human.

Odd. Did the thing have a teleporting ability? The other option was that based on the System's description of its characteristics, that it had a way to hide itself, just like Logan could do with his armour. Or even more worrying, a way to hide its aura.

But either way, Logan wasn't here to go on a naturalist monster expedition. Especially for a monster that wasn't even level 100. That was hardly any XP at all. He was here to finish his Quest and then get the hell out of dodge.

Hawthorne gave the empty wall a dismissive glance, and then led the way into the park, walking through a path. Trees were on either sides, the faint scent of earth wafting past his nose. Unlike back home, although it was humid here and hot, it was nowhere close to a 100 degrees, roasting temperature. And once they were past the street, the stench of garbage and rot disappeared.

Hawthorne moved further down the path, the soldiers at his back keeping a protective barrier between him and Logan before they came across a row of…

Logan held back a grin. Golf carts. There were ten on each side of the path, looking beat up, some of the seats covered in smears of dried blood, the fronts covered in twigs and leaves as if someone had driven it through a marsh.

"Golf carts?" he asked.

Hawthorne got into the front passenger's seat and then gestured at Logan. "You ride with me."

Logan climbed into the backseat while Hawthorne's escort got into the driver's seat, and another soldier took the seat next to Logan. The driver turned the keys, and the cart sputtered to life, giving off a distinct smell of…

"Wait," said Logan, "this is gas-powered? The System didn't blow these up with the rest of the cars?"

The wind whipped Hawthorn's face as they pushed through the path and headed in the direction of the wall. "Farm equipment, golf carts, they all survived. It's the damndest thing! Wouldn't an AI 'all-knowing' being be able to identify everything that generates carbon? Just goes to show you that its whole premise was bullshit. I saw you eyeing the cars. That's why we're confident that the world can return to normal, son. If enough people have the courage of their convictions, and band together to make sure society doesn't break down. Then the rule of law continues."

"You've forgotten something important."

"What's that?" said Hawthorne as the cart wound around a corner. They passed a fountain and more benches, as well as the remnants of a struggle—discarded backpacks, shoes, smeared blood.

"The purge. I like the idea of returning to society, but that's not a reality to people who are trying to level up so they won't be eliminated by the System in less than a year. You're helping people to level up, great, but if all you're doing is keeping everyone below level 50, you're doing your people a disservice. Coddling them and protecting them isn't going to let them survive. Not in a year."

Hawthorne glanced at Logan, his face back to that expressionless blank. "Who says the purge is real?"

"It's real," said Logan, firm. He may have started to doubt too if he hadn't come across the Silverdagger Clan in the trial dungeon. According to Asthea, there had been many worlds that had already gone through the same thing. There was no way to avoid it. Not without succeeding at the Save Humanity Quest. But shit, how was he going to convince people to help him if they didn't believe the purge was real?

As they approached the wall, Logan gaped. It was one thing seeing it with [Threshold Shift] and another seeing it with his own eyes. They'd erected a wall of massive concrete blocks, stocking them so high that you couldn't peer over the top. Logan couldn't see an end in sight—in either direction. It had to be the length of two football fields at least.

But there was a massive problem. How the hell were they supposed to get inside?

Logan studied the wall, looking for an entrance, but it was nothing but solid stone. He had to give it to them; they'd managed to erect something that should keep out most monsters and XP harvesters. Unless you had a skill that allowed you to fly, or a System generated item like his Pink Sock, getting over the wall wouldn't be an easy feat.

Emily joined them, Zachary and Dean trailing behind her. Logan glanced at them and then turned his attention to the wall. "Why did you choose to move people here? Wouldn't it have been easier to guard another building like the stadium?"

Emily snorted.

"Easier?" said Hawthorne. "It was easier defensively, but not sanitary. Why don't you tell him, sergeant, since you're so expressive today."

Emily straightened, a flush coming across her face. "Yes sir! Sorry sir!"

"Well, go on."

"Yes sir." She gave Logan a grin. "The rats kept coming out of the plumbing and toilets no matter what we did. Came at people when they were in the toilet, if you get my drift. Eventually, we had to barricade the bathrooms and use latrines."

"Forget I asked," Logan mumbled, feeling his stomach slosh.

Hawthorne gave him a serious look, his lips thinning. "I'm trusting you with this location. I'm letting you inside. I hope you understand that it's because I'm trying my best to trust you. To show you that there are no hard feelings for what happened earlier."

Logan froze. "Hard feelings?"

"For you threatening us. That's not something I would normally forgive. But you've convinced me that you're an ally that we could benefit from knowing."

Logan's mouth curdled. If anyone should have hard feelings, it should be Logan. They hadn't overtly attacked him, but they'd been about to. He sighed. That was just more evidence that he needed to craft his lodestone and then get out of here. He would never trust them, and their naivety about the purge and leveling up wouldn't serve them well when they encountered a high ranker who wasn't as benevolent as Logan.

Hawthorne nodded his head at his escort. The driver of the cart lifted a handheld radio and pressed a button. "It's General Hawthorne and his escort, plus a guest. Let us in."

"Code?" crackled back from the radio.

"Level 0."

There was a cranking sound and a slight vibration in the ground underneath their feet. Hawthorne gestured for Logan to back up, just in time for a hole to emerge from the ground.

A trapdoor.

They'd carved it out of the ground, score lines on the edges of the pit showing signs of an excavator. More concrete blocks had been used, this time as stairs.

"In case you're getting ideas," said Hawthorne as he got out of the cart and led the way into the tunnel, "we change the code every hour."

Logan clenched his fists, anger surging. Get in, get out, craft your lodestone. Don't cut this asshole down, he chanted to himself.

***

Logan followed the soldiers into the tunnel, keeping [Life Fabricator] active as he searched for auras and hidden traps. Although he sensed the people inside the fence, a massive swarm of auras that radiated like the sun, there was something else as well.

Something that wasn't human.

Under the tunnel, buried deep underground, there was another mass of life. Burrowing. Digging. And clawing their way to the surface.

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