Seeing Captain Apollos one-shot a baronyx stunned everyone on their team.

  The NPC captain had already sheathed his spear without a word, circled back, and had his horse calmly wait for the column to catch up. When they did, he fell back into position as if nothing had happened.

  The soldiers passed the carcass without slowing.

  Jack bit his lip at the sight of the unattended body. He couldn’t just let that much value rot.

  He tapped out a quick message:

  JackOfDiamonds: “Do you think there will be any issues if I harvest it?”

  He received a simple thumbs-up emoji from Amari in response. That was all he needed. He slid down from Snowy’s back.

  “What are you doing?” José asked him.

  “Looting. Wait here, Dad.”

  “Looting… Right, what does that mean again in this game?”

  As his father tried to recall, Jack jogged ahead, hand glowing faintly as [Luck of the Hunter] activated, boosting his luck.

  The loot window shimmered into view.

  You’ve harvested a Brown Male Baronyx.

  2000XP in Butchering

  1 gold and 2 silver

  1x [Baronyx Skull]

  1x [Cliff Dagger]

  5x [Baronyx Scales]

  13x [Large Dinosaur Fat]

  8x [Baronyx Meat]

  “A good haul!”

  He glanced at the soldiers. None showed any signs of annoyance at him harvesting the carcass of a dinosaur he hadn’t killed. He’d done well to risk it.

  Then it hit him like a gut punch. All those distant shrieks of beasts… How many had the soldiers taken down? How many valuable carcasses were out there, unseen and rotting? His stomach twisted at the thought. What a waste.

  Still, the happiness that came from harvesting this loot won out in the end. The timing was perfect, too—the monsters had grown strong enough that even a captain had to step in, meaning the loot had just become valuable enough to make it absolutely worth harvesting, especially with inventory space being what it was.

  Fortunately, he had somewhere to stash it—at least for now.

  He hurried over to Snowy.

  “Dad,” he said, tossing items over. “Can you hold these?”

  “Sure, son.”

  Jack ended up offloading most of it into his father’s inventory, and the convoy was on the move again.

  The cliffs gave way to towers—massive remnants of the once-grand stone faces that had withstood wind and heat, forming an even more confusing labyrinth.

  The scouts had become increasingly busy. Now, Apollos sent troupes of ten knights instead of the usual five.

  “We’ve reached the Frontier!” Horace called from ahead. “The desert isn’t too far.”

  “What is the Frontier?” José asked him.

  “It’s a place for players between levels thirty and fifty,” Jack explained.

  “And I’m level seven…” his father said.

  “That’s right.”

  His father grunted, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Don’t worry, Dad. Look how strong the NPCs are. Nothing’s getting through them. We’ll be fine.”

  “Sure.”

  He still didn’t sound convinced. He wasn’t afraid, Jack realized—just feeling powerless. After a week of dedicated effort on the old lady’s farm, he must have felt prepared for whatever awaited them. Now, he could see just how out of their depth they were.

  “Don’t worry, Dad. I’d be useless against these dinosaurs, too. All of us would. The real game starts once we get the village started.”

  Hearing that, his father’s mood lifted somewhat. “Alright. I guess you’re right.”

  “Yah! Yah!”

  The sudden cries of alarm snapped Jack from his thoughts. Scouts had brought baronyxes toward the caravan about ten times now, but this time was different.

  Knights were running toward the caravan. Not just one scout—an entire troupe. All ten of the riders Apollos had dispatched earlier were galloping full-speed toward them, expressions tight and weapons drawn.

  They weren’t just returning. They were retreating.

  A roar exploded through the canyon path. It was a baronyx—Jack knew the sound well by now—but there was something sharper and angrier in this one.

  It emerged.

  Even at a distance, Jack could tell this one was different. Bigger, for one. Heavier. The beast pushed through the spaces between boulders and crags, or sometimes, even tore through them. Its scales were striped with jagged crimson patterns. A ridge of jagged bone ran along its spine.

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  “An elite…” Jack whispered.

  Captain Apollos was already in motion, his spear flashing into his hand as he kicked his horse forward.

  “Hold position!” he shouted to the caravan.

  Jack watched the captain ride ahead, body low in the saddle. The Crimson Baryonyx spotted the lone rider and bellowed. It surged forward.

  Apollos struck first.

  He veered left, circling the beast’s charge, and with a cry, delivered a wide, arcing slash along its thigh. The captain’s signature strike, which would have felled a regular baronyx in one blow, made the elite stagger—but didn’t bring it down.

  He spun his mount and came around again. A second strike landed cleanly across the creature’s ribs, cutting deep. The beast roared and reared, claws swiping. One massive talon raked the air inches from Apollos’s head—but the captain was already gone, sliding low on his horse’s side like a trick rider in a circus.

  “Unreal…” Jack breathed, chest tight.

  The third strike came.

  Apollos kicked off the saddle entirely, leaping high and driving the spear down from above with both hands. The weapon sank into the beast’s back just behind the skull. The baryonyx shrieked and thrashed, but Apollos didn’t let go. He twisted the spear, pivoted off the beast’s back, and dropped to the ground with the weapon still in hand.

  The elite staggered.

  For a moment, Jack thought it would recover. Its legs quivered. Its jaw gnashed. But after a moment, its body gave out. The massive form collapsed, shaking the ground in its death throes, tail slamming hard against the canyon wall before going still.

  Jack’s heart pounded. Even though the captain hadn’t been able to one-shot this monster, he had still finished it off in three precise, deadly blows.

  “Thank you, Captain!” one of the knights called.

  “We appreciate the save,” another added.

  “Thank you, sir,” came a third voice.

  “It’s alright, men. Back to formation,” the captain said, returning to his place as if nothing had happened.

  Jack was already running toward the carcass of the baronyx elite. A level 40 elite! The loot had to be good.

  You’ve harvested a Crimson Baronyx.

  10,000 XP in Butchering

  Among the familiar haul—scales, bones, fat, and meat—two items stood out.

  Angry Hunger (Rare)

  Anger feeds your hunger. Hunger feeds your anger. You channel that rage into raw power.

  Skill effects:

  Gain x1.5 Strength when stamina is below 50%;

  Gain x2 Strength if health is also below 50%.

  Requirements: Berserker

  Crimson Pauldron

  A piece of equipment fashioned from the remains of a crimson baronyx. It’s a symbol of a warrior’s strength and makes you feel the power of a predator.

  Crafting Grade: C

  Durability: 74

  Item effects:

  Constitution: 10

  HP: 105

  Defense: 10

  Block: 10

  [Shoulder Charge] – Lets you cross a short distance in a flash, knocking back everyone targeted along the way.

  Requirements: Warrior, Level 40

  It was a solid passive skill and a good piece of equipment. The latter was probably up Horace’s alley. Sadly, he was only level 30, so he couldn’t equip it yet.

  “Anything good this time?” Horace asked as Jack caught up to Snowy and climbed aboard.

  “Yeah! Check this out,” Jack said, tossing the pauldron to him.

  Horace caught it. “Sweet! That item skill especially is super useful. You mind if I hang onto it?”

  “It’s yours,” Jack said.

  The trip continued. At first, the gaps between the rocks were only wide enough for a single horse. But as they rode, the cracks widened, the stones grew shorter and sparser, and the ground turned to finer gravel. Shade became scarce.

  Then, they were out of the rocks, and before them stretched an open expanse of yellow hills.

  “The Sand Sea,” Jack said. He could tell why it was called that. It looked like an ocean of clay, sun-baked and frozen in time.

  Captain Apollos didn’t slow to appreciate the view. He led the troops into the desert without hesitation. The soldiers marched as if sand were no different from stone.

  A notification flickered into view.

  You have stepped into the Hinterlands.

  Careful! Death penalties here are more severe.

  Be mindful of the environmental debuffs. They can kill you!

  New title unlocked: [Hinterland Charter]

  Hinterland Charter (Common)

  You have braved new lands that have fallen prey to the wilds and been out of reach of mankind for over a century. People buy you drinks just to hear your tales of this place.

  Title effects: +1 Fame

  Unlock condition: Visit one of the Hinterland regions. (Complete)

  “Jack! I got a notification,” his dad said, already squinting at the floating text.

  “Dad, you don’t have to read it—”

  “You have braved new lands that have fallen prey to the wilds…” his father intoned, squinting up at the floating text with stubborn determination.

  Jack sighed. Why did older people always have to read things out loud? But he didn’t interrupt—there was something kind of endearing about how seriously his dad was taking it.

  “So this is the title thing you were telling me about, right?”

  “That’s right. Well done.”

  “What does fame do again?”

  “It unlocks better missions and lets you enter places you normally wouldn’t. NPCs treat you with more respect, too.”

  His dad nodded. “Good. Respect is good.”

  Jack chuckled. Not long ago, his father had barely tolerated his playing the game. Now he was going through his game rewards with excitement.

  Up ahead, Jack spotted the column’s scouts—three riders, each about half a klick out. One at twelve o’clock, another at nine, and the last at three.

  As the column pushed deeper into the dunes, Jack got his first debuff notification.

  You’re walking in the hot sands of the Sand Sea.

  You’ve been afflicted with a debuff: [Thirst].

  Your fire resistance cancels the [Thirst] debuff.

  Not even five minutes into the desert, and he’d already triggered a debuff. Thankfully, his fire resistance was high enough to nullify it—but the slosh of his father’s water bottle behind him told a different story. José had been hit with it.

  Jack scanned Horace, Amari, and Rob. They looked fine for now

  I’d better keep an eye on everyone. These debuffs seem to escalate quickly.

  Just as he started musing about what he’d cook if they stopped, movement caught his eye—quick flashes across the dunes. Then another. Figures, darting in and out of view.

  Players.

  The nearest knelt in the open desert, pickaxe ringing softly as it struck a rock half-buried in sand. Dull gems were crusted into its surface. The moment the gatherer noticed the column, he stiffened, summoned a camel, and took off toward the Frontier.

  Jack watched as the player took off at full speed, vanishing behind a dune.

  “What was that?” Jack asked Horace.

  “They call them the Edgers,” Horace said. “They stick to the border between the Hinterlands and the Frontier.”

  “Why’d he run?” José asked.

  “Because people hunt them. If you die in the Hinterlands, you drop more items—especially whatever’s in your mount’s extra slots. No exceptions. He probably has a full inventory and didn’t want to risk it.”

  “So if he crosses back to the Frontier?” Jack asked.

  “Even if he gets killed, he only drops one random item, regardless of how full it is.”

  “I see…”

  They soon spotted another player harvesting a cactus. He froze when he noticed the caravan, one foot already planted in the direction of the Frontier. But when he realized the group had no interest in him, he cautiously returned to work—though he never stopped glancing their way.

  More followed. The edge of the Sand Sea had a number of these gatherers. They worked in short, efficient bursts, never straying far from safety. Jack spotted others farther out: some mining, some digging, others harvesting plants and flowers.

  The terrain held valuable loot and danger, judging by how jumpy the gatherers looked.

  I wonder if they’re called Edgers because they stick to the border—or because they’re always on edge. Probably both.

  Something stirred beneath their feet. At first, Jack thought it was his imagination. But the stir became audible. It swelled like a giant hourglass spilling its sand. Around them, gatherers bolted, scattering like startled wildebeest sensing lions on the prowl.

  The scout at three o’clock had begun galloping back toward the group, a large mound of sand on his heels. Something was tunneling after him.

  But the caravan had attracted even more attention.

  Another mound of sand was heading toward them from one o’clock. And another from nine.

  Jack grabbed his ocarina, just in case the soldiers needed a buff. If the Frontier had elite baronyxes, he couldn’t imagine what they’d run into here.