Time Limit: Two Hours, Eight Minutes

  Carol let Tori stand between Hal Riley and her.

  She hadn’t forgiven the Voltsmith yet. Ever since the Battle of Whiting, her life had been hell—and at least part of that hell was Hal’s fault. Not that she hadn’t been close with Zane. They were twins, after all. She’d grown up with him, and he’d always been there for her. And vice versa, of course.

  The first two Phases had been hard on both of them. Brian’s death had been a gut-punch, especially because they weren’t even supposed to be in Chicago. They were on a trip—their first one without their parents—and neither of them knew what was going on in Denver. Brian had stepped up. He’d done all the ‘dad’ things without trying to be their dad. And while Carol had been less comfortable with it, Zane had always had a sensitive soul. He’d needed that.

  “I’m sorry,” Hal said quietly.

  Zane stared at him, and Carol winced. She hadn’t been able to look her brother in the eye since the Battle of Whiting. It hurt so much, spending all day, every day, with someone and not being able to look at them. And Zane knew he was hurting her, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He hadn’t spoken much since Brian died, but while he’d been under the Fireborn Crusader’s pseudo-control, he’d gone all but mute. All he’d done was stare out the window, toward the southeast. Toward fucking Gary, Indiana. It had been hell. Absolute hell. Every. Day.

  Hal kept going, and Carol balled her fist. She wanted to drive it into his face, but Tori, thank god, was in the way. “I didn’t realize everything the Crusader could do. I didn’t know what the beacon was or how securing it worked. If I had, I’d have waited outside the dungeon and let Carol and Tori catch up to us. We had time. We just didn’t know it, and it got you hurt.”

  Screw Hal! How dare he look at the burn mark covering Zane’s face, shaped like the hand of a maniac? It was his fault, so why was she the one who felt guilty? She’d apologized a dozen times over the last couple of days, and Zane had just ignored her every time.

  But he wasn’t ignoring Hal, and that wasn’t fair.

  Carol’s nails dug into her palm. She clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt.

  Then a hand snaked out and cupped her clenched fist. She looked down. It was Tori’s. The other girl smiled up at her. “You looked like you could use the support.”

  Carol nodded slowly and focused on loosening her fist. As her hand relaxed, Tori’s fingers threaded between hers, and she squeezed softly. “You know, it’s not entirely Hal’s fault. He’s an idiot sometimes, but Zane’s his own person. He was always going to go after Taven.”

  “Because of Brian?”

  “Yeah. But not just him.”

  As Hal kept talking, Carol tried her best to tune him out and focused on what Tori had said. Yeah. It made sense, and she wanted to kick herself for not seeing it. Zane was a sensitive soul, and he needed a father figure. He’d all but fallen in love with the rogue during their tutorial. Losing him hurt. And then…

  “Oh my god,” Carol whispered. Her hand tightened against Tori’s. “Tommy.”

  “Yep. Like I said, he was always going to go after Taven,” Tori said again. She didn’t pull her hand back, and she smiled up at Carol.

  Then Zane nodded slowly. He reached out and hugged Hal Riley. He hugged the man. Carol couldn’t believe it, but when he let go, there were tears in his eyes. Zane slowly turned toward her, eyes tearing up more by the second. “I’m sorry, Carol. I tried so hard.”

  Tori’s hand slipped out of hers, and for just a half second, Carol felt a sense of loss. Then the girl’s palm pressed against her back, pushing her toward Zane, and she hugged her brother for the first time in days.

  And she decided that maybe, with time, she could forgive Hal Riley.

  Time Limit: Thirteen Minutes

  Calvin sat on the roof of Cindy’s Garage, staring off to the southeast. He’d climbed the ladder, swearing just enough to let Hal know how much he hated it, but the two light beers—warm, of course—and the sandwiches he’d found weren’t going to take care of themselves. Hal needed the break, and Calvin was going to give it to him.

  The Voltsmith’s eyes flicked back toward Museumtown, and Calvin shot him a glare. “No point. You can’t burn the candle at both ends all the time, and you’ll have plenty to do soon, Hal.”

  Hal nodded slowly. He lifted his can and took a sip, grimacing.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  They’d talked a lot on the way back from Green Bay. Most of it had been about Hal’s rambling plans for Phase Three. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew he was ready to do something. Integration had weaknesses. He’d killed a dungeon—two, if his theory about how they were built was correct and the Hand That Feeds’s first floor counted as one. With a little more understanding, he was pretty sure he could start adjusting their rules instead of brute-forcing them.

  And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Voltsmithing’s Principles, according to Hal, governed more than just dungeons—more than Integration, even. The thing he kept calling a World Engine ran on Charge, and it was susceptible to the same rules as Hal’s creations. If it was real, that was. Calvin hadn’t been to school in a while, but he didn’t remember any geology lessons about a World Engine.

  Hal looked out at the light reflecting off Lake Michigan’s water, then took a long pull from his can.

  “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Calvin asked.

  The Voltsmith nodded. Then he went quiet. Calvin sipped at his beer and waited.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  Calvin snorted and stared Hal right in the eye. “Yep. Hal Riley, I’ve known you were crazy since the moment I met you. No one who chose the Hardcore Tutorial was sane—and if they were, they didn’t come out of it that way. But that’s not what you’re asking, is it? Didn’t think so. You’re asking if you’re making the right call. I can’t tell you that. The Consortium bastards might be able to, but they ain’t gonna tell the truth. What I do know is that, once you get started on this, they’re gonna try to stop you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Hal stared out at the lake.

  “They’re not gonna like this at all. But I think the mission’s a good one. What you found in the Whole New World? That’s some screwed-up shit. Life force and stuff.” Calvin shivered and finished off his beer. The sandwich was better—an Italian sub.

  “I think I can do it, though,” Hal said after a minute or two.

  “Break it? The system? I know you can. I heard about what you did to the Fireborn Crusader.”

  “No. I know I can break that. But Integration…Listen, Calvin. At the end of Phase One, I knew this whole thing was a mess. But it was a problem, and I assumed that the Consortium had hit a solution to a real problem and stopped there. It wasn’t a good solution, but it was viable. Like, uh, duct-taping hose together in your engine. It keeps the car running, but it’s not a good fix. After seeing that beacon’s guts, though? I’m not so sure Integration is a tape job anymore.”

  “So, if it’s not a jury-rigged fix, it’s intentional?” Calvin asked.

  “I’ve thought it might be since the Whole New World. And as soon as that timer ticks down, I’m cracking that beacon open, tearing it apart, and making sure I’m right, because if I am…If I am, Phase Three’s rules won’t matter. Museumtown’s going to stop playing the Consortium’s games, and I’m going to fix Integration.”

  “Big claim. The aliens have all the power.”

  Hal nodded seriously. Calvin shivered as the Voltsmith stood up. “They do. But there are flaws in that power. That’s what I did before Integration—I found problems, and I solved them. This is just a bigger engine.”

  Calvin let the conversation die. He stared southeast, down Lake Michigan’s shore, and waited for the timer to tick down.

  Congratulations on surviving Phase Two: The Graft!

  Phase Three will begin after a few short messages.

  [Three hundred twenty] Waypoint Beacons were discovered during Phase Two of Integration, and of those, [Two hundred fifteen] were successfully activated. [Earth’s] population sits at [921,572,390] as we move from Phase Two to Phase Three.

  With [Earth] and [Solemnus Six] successfully grafted, the time has come for expansion.

  To pass through to the final three phases of Integration, the remaining [two hundred fifteen] safe zones must secure territories capable of providing for their occupants and defend them against both other factions, the [Solemnus Six] native species, and various new, deadly monsters.

  Tier Two, Three, and Four Dungeons will continue to operate in all contested areas, but defeated dungeons will no longer respawn.

  The Consortium wishes all remaining [Homo sapiens] luck with Phase Three.

  It could have been worse.

  That thought made me sick. Almost half of what was left of humanity at the end of Phase One had died. A few more phases, and the species as a whole would be in trouble. But even so, the thought wouldn’t leave my head.

  I stared to the southeast. A purple light shot up way down the Lake Michigan coast, brilliant and bright in the evening sky. Another, similar one burned due east, right over Museumtown, and one so faint it was almost invisible wavered far to the north.

  “So, they made it through without him,” Calvin said. “That’s bad news for us.”

  “Is it?” I asked as I stood up and headed for the ladder.

  “Yep. They’re gonna be looking for territories, same as us. This phase is gonna get ugly. You think the Battle of Whiting was bad? Wait until the goal is warfare.” Calvin groaned as he stood up. His can was empty, and he crushed it quickly, then left it on the roof. “Yep, this is gonna be one ugly motherfucker of a phase.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “You’re gonna start tearing into it, aren’t you?” Calvin asked.

  “Yes. It’s time to figure out if the beacon can give me some clues about Charge—and about Integration.” I was halfway down the ladder before he started working his way down, and a new system message popped up.

  Terraforming in Progress…

  Dungeon Seeds Recalibrating…

  Resource Level Audit in Progress…

  Welcome to Phase Three, [Hal Riley]!

  Team: Hal Riley, Tori Vanderbilt, Calvin Rollins, Museumtown Safe Zone, The Rat’s Nest Safe Zone, The West Side Safe Zone

  Objective: Occupy Viable Territory (0/1)

  Time Limit: Three Weeks

  When I got to Museumtown, Tori was waiting for me. So were Zane and Carol. The Telekineticist waved. “Hey, you just got all that, right?”

  “Sure did. You were right.”

  “I told you it was going to be RTS. We’ve had MMO dungeons and objective-based PvP, and—“

  “You were right,” I repeated. “Strategy games made sense, especially if the Consortium wants us all dead. I’m heading for the Reliquary of Bones. It’s time to pop that beacon open and start learning the rules of Integration.”