The differences between people are starting to become more apparent. My father has raised each of his sigils four times and as of now I’m pretty sure he could fight half the police department to a stalemate. Several of the gold rank adventurers are growing fast as well.

  It works well here in Greenriver, those who work hard also tend to be good natured. Its a feature of living in a rural location. However I can only imagine what will happen when tyrants no longer need armies. I am working on some methods of curbing violence while promoting the growth of those same people. It is a strange task, to incentivize personal power while simultaneously discouraging the harm it would cause to others. I am going to call it Super Powered Capitalism.

  Day 80, Owen Landers

  The Once and Future King of Central America

  Hector Alphonso took a deep breath as he felt power fill him. He was sure it was a placebo effect, but still, every notification was a sign of growth and he loved it.

  Notice: Greater Atmospheric Compressor has been stressed to breaking through the application of high velocity metal pellets. Your ability to control this sigil has caused it to improve. Your focus will increase to reflect this.

  The translucent armor covering his body slowly mended itself into something that looked quite a bit like a cross between a glass suit and armor. He rested the double headed woodcutting axe on the corpse of one of his rivals. The world had changed, but his competitors had not.

  “Jefe, we found the bishop,” David, one of his underlings interrupted from the doorway.

  “Good, take me to him, Abuella will be happy,” Hector wiped the blood of his axe with the curtain. He grimaced when the already bloody curtain simply smeared the fluids.

  “You got it,” David nodded and led the way to the bishop. He had a strange combination of a nine millimeter Glock in one hand with a machete in the other.

  They passed several other cartel members, who were busy cleaning out the bodies. All of them had sigils, and Hector refused to skimp out on family, unlike the government. He nodded in greeting at a few of his more impressive brothers. Their movements were muffled by the carpet, a fact that had made the assault on the government's safe house much easier.

  David stopped before a door at the bottom of a set of stone steps. Several other suited men aimed automatic weapons at the door, but no one had made a move to open it.

  “What’s going on?’’ Hector asked. The bishop had two sigils, but neither was dangerous, healing and communication ones if he remembered correctly.

  “They’ve locked themselves in with the bishop,” The ex-hit man looked unhappy with their current predicament, “They have the bishop and a few clergymen locked up and are using them to keep their people fresh.”

  Hector frowned, men who knew their wounds would be perfectly healed would be brave, “Is the bishop in duress or complicit?’’

  “Unknown,” David took over the explanation, “All we know is that there is a team of special forces members, President Veronica, and the clergymen. All of this is set in a bunker at the end of a long hallway. Before you ask, no we can’t just dig them out, Veronica built the place out of steel and did something to make it resistant to our cutting implements.”

  Hector frowned. They needed those priests. Despite being the leader of the largest cartel in Mexico, he valued his faith. Not because he was particularly devout, but because only a fool threw away their heritage. That and if he could gain the loyalty of the bishop, he would consolidate his power over Mexico.

  He had found that it was always best to lead people by the heart. The corrupt followed money, the deprived followed pleasure, the weak bowed to drugs, and the upstanding were controlled by morals. He liked to believe that he was an upstanding man keeping the three problem elements docile for the people.

  “What kind of weapons and sigils do they have,” Hector asked.

  “FX-05 Xiuhcoatl, I don’t know how much ammo or what sigils they have,” David answered.

  Hector grimaced, it didn’t look good. His armor of compressed air could take a few rounds of five-five-six, but that rifle was automatic and could chew through his sigil in less than a second.

  “Do we have a shield of some kind?” Hector asked, “Get Carlos to reduce its weight, then hand it to me.”

  Ten minutes later a stocky man ran in with the door of an armored vehicle. Hector would prefer more coverage, but he would use what he could get. Carlos had a sigil called Weight Inhibitor, which let him reduce the effect of gravity on any inanimate object by fifty percent.

  “Here you go, boss,” Carlos said, handing the door off.

  Hector grunted as the door was heavy, even at only half its original weight. He nodded his thanks to his junior brother. Then he drew a line in the air with his hand and pushed the door through. A translucent bubble formed around it as he moved forward. This only worked because he was holding the door, it would pop like a soap bubble if he dropped it. A moment later the bubble shrank like shrink wrap to coat the armored door in yet more armor.

  Glancing down at the men with guns on either side of the bunker entrance, “You ready? Victory for blood.”

  “Victory for blood,” the three hit men said as they raised their weapons.

  Hector raised the door, glad for the three extra points in body, “David, now.”

  David pulled the door open, revealing a long tiled hallway. Nearly one hundred fifty meters of straight concrete with no cover and no room to evade. Hector had not even set foot into the tunnel when half a dozen bullets slammed into his makeshift shield. He staggered back before planting his feet and pushing forward.

  Half a dozen more shocks ran through the shield, shattering his condensed air and pinging off the steel door. Then his brothers returned fire. Hector's ears rang as the gunshots echoed down the hallway and his vision was obscured by smoke. He kept charging, letting his brothers cover him.

  The record for the hundred meters was ten seconds. Hector was carrying a car door in a bullet storm so he was happy when he made it in a little under seventeen seconds. As soon as he was in range, Hector dropped the door and swung his ax. His second sigil activated.

  The Tool Projector let him extend the blade of his ax by nearly two meters. The ghostly edge cut the wall, the three special forces soldiers, and the bottom half of the bunker’s door. His brothers flinched at the sight of three well trained men dying in such a gory manner.

  Two more had died in the exchange of fire and one of Hector’s brothers had taken a nasty leg injury. The priests within could fix that in no time. Carlos and David were already administering first aid.

  “There should be another five soldiers and Veronica,” Hector hefted the shield and reapplied the bubble shield, “Victory and blood.’’

  He sliced the bunker open and led the way in. There was more cover within the concrete structure. Well, more for Hector and his brothers. The walls put up little resistance against the edge of his blade. Less than two minutes later he was holding the former president a the point of one of her soldiers' guns.

  “Please, you don’t have to do this,” Veronica cried.

  “Open the door,” Hector gestured towards the electronic lock that kept the clergymen imprisoned.

  “I lose all my value if that door opens,” Veronica glared at Hector.

  In his opinion, the corrupt politician was less than worthless. She wasn’t even corrupt in a way he could use. Hector was wary of simply slicing the door open due to not knowing exactly where in the room the priests were or how thick the door was. So he grabbed Veronica by her hair and smashed her face into the lock.

  She cried out as her front teeth were shattered and her nose broke. Blood covered the lock, dulling the green glow of the electronic buttons. A second bash cracked her orbital bone and gouged out an eye.

  “Let me put it to you this way,” Hector growled, “We don’t need you. It will just take a few extra days. That is what your whole life is worth, forty-eight hours of my week and a few angle grinders.”

  Veronica lifted a trembling hand and punched in the code. Hector shot the ex-president as soon as the door opened. She was no longer needed.

  Ten small rooms branched off from a hallway behind the door. Hector grimaced as he saw that no one would have been hurt by his ax. He had gotten his hand bloody for no reason.

  Each room had a glass wall that let Hector see the prisoners inside. The priests were still wearing the traditional robes that clergy seemed to like. He cut the nearest door open.

  “Take him to go get Romero’s leg healed,” Hector pointed over his shoulder, “Also bring some food for the priests.’’

  He scanned the prisoners for the bishop. Thankfully, Catholicism had a strong sense of hierarchy, if he could get the bishop on board the others would follow. The elderly man was sitting cross legged at the end of the hallway. His eyes were hollow and bags had formed under them from a lack of rest.

  His eyes narrowed when they landed on Hector, “What do you want?”

  Hector smiled at the venom in the bishop’s voice. This man had his respect. Many religious men hid behind their gods, this bishop stood before his. The old man didn’t even flinch when his cage was sliced apart.

  “What do you say about a partnership,” Hector asked.

  “Why would I serve someone who abuses the weak,” the bishop asked.

  “I don’t abuse the weak, I abuse the worthless and extract value out of them that can then be used by the community,’’ Hector said, waving off the objection, “I am not asking you to serve me, I am asking you to partner with me. I have control of most of Mexico, once the Voidlings are removed from the capital, I will have absolute control. Haven’t you ever wondered what you could do if you rebuilt society from the ground up?”

  The bishop frowned, “Any society I build would be opposed to evil people like you.”

  Hector laughed, “You say that like it's a bad thing. I intend to be a king and a king needs loyal subjects, cartels would simply be counterproductive.”

  Angel of Pride

  Zhang Ting lay curled up on her bed. Nightmares flashed behind her eyes as she tried to sleep. She felt jealous of those who had slain an occulo dominus. They could go for a week without sleep. She blinked the image of a blue beam bisecting Shanghai. The upper stories of skyscrapers sliding to the side as a monster stomped on the citizens like ants.

  She had been in one of those buildings. Luck had been on her side. The building collapsed, but something blunted the impact. Ting had awoken to see her own reflection and covered in blood. What followed was a blur but she remembered one thing.

  Notice: You have made contact with spirit manifestation Rex Vulpis. Would you like to purify the taint of Fenrir?

  Ting hadn’t known what those words meant. She had been delirious and simply accepted. Unfortunately, she was surrounded by something dark and slimy and left with the memory of her father and mother hitting the ground before her. The sounds of death had filled her ears until she managed to pull herself out of the giant corpse. Only then did she understand. A massive fox lay on the ground, covered in rubble with a pane of glass cutting into the back of its neck. For some reason, the interface had credited her with the kill. It was a fluke that she regretted.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Zhong Kui, it's time to get up,” the knock and call echoed through the dark room.

  Ting blinked away the visions of her countrymen’s vacant stares. Their broken corpses and the red smears covering the rubble of Shanghai. The knock came again.

  “Zhong Kui, it's time for your treatment,” the voice came again.

  Ting snapped upright and scrambled to the door, ignoring the fact that she was dressed in only a silk robe. She jerked the door open, startling the young women on the other side. Ting needed her treatment, she couldn’t live without it, she couldn’t live with the memories.

  “Take me,” Ting rasped. She looked more like a ghoul than a person. Hygiene was simply not a high priority. So long as she got the blood off her skin and hair in the morning that was good enough. She pressed her palms into her eyes as the thought of blood sent her down a negative spiral.

  “Of course, follow me,” The woman said.

  Ting was led through the underground facility and into a room. President Li Shikai had explained what the room was for. People with mind affecting sigils would suppress her nightmares and let Ting sleep. It had been days and she was not allowed to see them regularly, but she needed them.

  When the door came into view, Ting broke into a run. She left her guide behind and stepped into the room. It was dark save for a light shining down on a lone chair sitting in the center. She could barely make out the masked people sitting around the edges, but it didn’t matter.

  Ting sat in the central chair and waited for sleep to take her. She didn’t wait long. The people at the edges started singing a song about putting down the old mind and taking up the new. Yes, she desperately wanted to set down her old mind. Ting thanked the kind people as she drifted off to sleep.

  The shadowy figures kept singing for a few more minutes before stopping. At that exact moment, Ting took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. She cracked her neck and loosened her back muscles.

  “Are you Zhang Ting?” One of the figures asked tentatively.

  “No, fool. The girl has been put to sleep,” Ting's body stood. She grimaced down at the robe which had fallen open, “If any of you get ideas while I’m asleep, I will rip your eyes out next time I wake.”

  A few of the figures glanced away.

  “We have a new objective for you Zhong Kui,” the first man said.

  A smile crossed Kui’s face, “Need something killed?”

  She rolled her shoulders, letting the robe drop to the floor. An instant later, her entire body was coated in black armor with matching back wings spreading from her back. It was a perk from Greater Celestial Armorer. Wings at base, armor has a greater effect.

  “Uh, no, we need you to inspire some of our soldiers before we attempt to retake Chongqing,” The man took a step back as the wings made the room feel suddenly much smaller.

  Kui’s smile fell, “If that is what our grand leader desires.”

  She spun on her heel and marched out of the complex. China had been hit hard by the invasion and it was about time they took their homeland back. Killing was what Kui did best, but motivating others to participate with her was a close second. She exited the bunker and spread her wings.

  In the distance, she could see row upon row of soldiers and beyond them the burned out shell of Chongqing. Kui launched into the air and sped towards the mass of soldiers. On a large platform before them President Li Shikai stood, giving some kind of rousing speech.

  It mostly fell flat. The thousands of soldiers knew that the president would not be setting foot on the battlefield, despite having two combat viable greater sigils. Thankfully President Shikai had Kui to fall back on.

  As she passed over the soldiers, Kui used Gravitational Conductor to weigh down slightly on them. It was great for adding a sense of, well, gravity to her presence and words. Several soldiers broke their parade rest and glanced up as they felt her pressure.

  Kui did not move to the stage. Stages were quite useless for any being capable of flight. So she came to a halt hovering in the center of the army. Sure it would go against their rigid training in the People’s Liberation Army, but Kui did not care. They would no longer be liberators in name only after today.

  Once everyone was looking up at her, Kui released her final sigil. Demiurge’s Curator, it was the final sigil for reaching ten capacity, and not a greater one, but it was worth it. An aura of power surrounded her, touching every being looking upon her, filling every one of their hearts with unyielding pride.

  “Noble soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army,” Kui said, she could see their hopelessness drifting off them like streamers. However, beneath it all was a dimly glowing core of anger and national pride.

  “You have had everything taken from you. Monsters invaded our world. OUR WORLD!” Kui screamed. Normally a display like this would be disgraceful, but her pride in herself was being fed to everyone below, sparking their own and fanning it into a flame, “They think that they are the hunters, that they can take our lives and our land. This is not a war of self-defense, this war of vengeance!”

  The dark streamers started lightening. Trembling hands were clenched into fists and unsteady eyes were filled with anger. Kui let a savage, bloodthirsty grin spread across her, “I lost my parents, and I don’t intend to lie down and give the monsters a free pass. I will kill them all! I will do it alone if I have to, not because it's right or because it's good, but because I hate them.”

  The streamers started glowing like red hot iron. They had hate, their pride had been crushed. Each and every person in China had lost someone and they wanted payback.

  Kui raised a fist, “Who will kill them with me?”

  The soldiers started cheering. Raising their fists. Was it a good speech, no. A little emotional manipulation went a long way when it came to situations like this. Kui let her aura continue whipping the army into a bloodthirsty frenzy. She let gravity take hold of her again and she fell.

  Using her wings she steered herself towards the stage, landing next to Li Shikai, “Was that good enough for you?’’

  President Li Shikai shrugged, “I needed them to fight, desertion is becoming a major issue. Fighting immortal monsters is not how most want to die. To make things worse, the standard channels to coordinate and reassure my people no longer function.”

  Kui raised an eyebrow at Shikai, “They aren’t immortal.”

  The President nodded, “You know that, I know that, but one can only witness creatures returning from the grave so often before everything seems a bit hopeless. Even burning the bodies doesn’t keep them down if the original killer is deceased.”

  Kui snorted, “You just want fewer mouths to feed.”

  She had no basis for the accusation, the mass deaths in the large cities should have solved any food shortages. Unfortunately, distribution was heavily impacted by the sudden failure of wireless communication. In the end, Kui, didn’t care, so long as Shikai continued splitting her personality, she would kill whatever he pointed at.

  Stalwart Hero

  Mateo staggered into a burned out building. The phantom antlers and claws flickered out as he ducked into the cellar. His gaze panned over the fifty some survivors he had collected. He found someone who looked capable and beckoned the man over.

  “Me,” the large man asked, pointing at himself.

  “Yes, you,” Mateo held out his hand, palm up, reveiling a pair of glowing purple sigils. One was the Pack Guardian that Mateo possessed while the other was from a giant spider, “Some men from EDAP will be here soon to pick you all up. Those of you I give sigils to will be responsible for protecting the civilians.”

  The man paused, “I, uh, I, can you find someone else?”

  Mateo raised an eyebrow, “Who is willing to defend your fellow man?”

  A middle aged woman stood. She was trembling, but she had two preteen children with her. Mateo threw a glare at the cowardly man before focusing on the woman.

  “This sigil will make you faster and stronger, this one will let you walk on walls,” Mateo passed the sigils to the woman. He stayed ready for a surprise from the survivors. There had been times where a desperate survivor had tried to snatch the sigils.

  The mother gulped, quickly absorbing the two sigils. Mateo nodded and stepped back up to the ground floor. A red tinted fog covered Berlin, reducing his line of sight dramatically. A snuffling drew his attention to the alley. Another Werewolf.

  Mateo clenched his fists and moved to the alley. As soon as he stepped through the back door he lifted his hands and caught the rack of horns that tried to spear him. It was a normal response by this point. The greater sigil was far and away better than the lesser one, that and five of his nine sigil levels were in body.

  He let go with one hand and let phantom claws cover his fingers. Fifty people were more than enough to max out his strength, so one hand was more than enough to hold the monster back. His other greater sigil activated. Greater Light Crafter condensed a construct out of light. As a constable, he was limited to the tools needed for his duty. So he created a fire axe.

  The fog was red, thus the construct was as well. It brought back memories of his first slain werewolf when he chopped the weightless tool down between the monster’s eyes. His strength was monstrous when protecting this many people, allowing the weapon to sink up into the beast’s brain.

  Its eyes went glassy and the force pushing on him reduced to nothing. Mateo quickly purified it and put the sigil in his satchel. He let out a sigh, it had been nearly three months, of blood and death. The red fog was wearing on him, lessening his vision to only a few dozen meters.

  A light clap startled him, “You know, I’m pretty sure you are the best dog killer on the planet.”

  Mateo whirled, bringing his hands up into a fighting position. When he saw what was behind him he hissed, “Demon!”

  “Not a demon, seriously why do all you people think that we’re demons,” said the man with golden eyes, pale skin, and two horns curving up from his forehead. Also he had bat wings. When Mateo didn’t answer he sighed, “Demons are fallen angels, I am a corrupted spirit of this world. Corrupted by humans, believe it or not.”

  Mateo had come across these creatures before. Many people had taken to calling the vampires, due to their blood powers, but that was a misleading description. They weren’t killed by sunlight and scoffed at crosses. Garlic still seemed to offend them, but that apparently had more to do with how it made blood taste.

  He had also never seen one without its thralls. Mateo couldn’t let it get into the basement and convert all the people below. So he struck while it was still prattling on about how humans were just tasty bags of blood and sin. His fist connected with the monster's face, his greater pack guardian boosting his strength from six to twenty-one.

  The fog was blasted away from the point of impact and the vampire was launched into a lamp post. It bounced off the metal pole with reverberating gong and rolled for a another four or five meters. Mateo grimaced, the sigil increased strength, not body. His knuckles were likely fractured, his tendons ached from using that much power, and his stamina had been drained precipitously.

  “Son of a Fenris damned… You knower whart?” The vampire staggered to its feet. One arm was broken, a wing was dragging on the ground, and half its face was caved in, “I an goin to mak you eat yo own mudder!”

  Mateo felt rage and fear start rising. The monster had taken a fatal injury, at least its brain should no longer be functioning. He had heard stories about these creatures turning people into thralls and using them to torture their own families. It was part of the reason Berlin hadn’t just been abandoned, people were largely captured, not killed.

  “If a crushed brain isn’t enough to kill you, I’ll just rip your head off,” Mateo growled as his claws flared to life. He dashed in planning to make good on his threat.

  Something hit him from the side. Mateo cursed and grabbed his attacker and squeezed. His clawed fingers sank easily into soft flesh. He looked over in surprise, that hadn’t been monster flesh. Young man, likely only in his teens looked blankly at Mateo, his head barely attached after Mateo’s claws almost tore it off.

  The vampire cackled at Mateo’s expression of horror. He hated these hellish monsters. The boy was dead, the blood in his body puppeted him through the monster's influence. Mateo muttered a quick apology before throwing the corpse through a flower shop’s window and continuing his rush.

  Unfortunately, that delay was long enough for the vampire to surround himself with thralls. Most were the shambling meat sacks, but a few, the still living ones, were more dangerous. Crystalline blood covered their form in patches, forming spikes that jutted out from their flesh like broken bones.

  “If you wub yo people so much, why don you jus join dem,” the vampire laughed as it popped its dangling eye back into its socket.

  Mateo roared and charged. Just because his people were alive didn’t mean they could be saved. He tore into the thralls, hoping to push through with sheer ferocity. Kill the leader, kill the army. He had to protect his people, everyone below was counting on him.

  His waning stamina proved to be his undoing. He jerked the arm off one of the thralls before failing to dodge a grasping claw. A kick ripped the corpse in half, but it gave time for more monsters to grab him. It took him a moment to realize that they weren’t trying to kill him, only hold him still.

  The reason why was quickly made apparent. A swirling, football-sized mass of blood hovered beside the vampire’s shoulder. The monster smiled, exposing its newly repaired fangs, “Don’t give what you can’t take.”

  It snapped the fingers on its good hand and the orb of blood was blasted into Mateo’s face. He felt bone crack and cartilage be smashed, but he was too dazed to pay attention to either. His body was hurled back, thankfully no light pole was in his path, but he did roll to a dazed stop right next to the stairway down to the people he needed to protect.

  He groggily tried to rise, but the thralls pinned him down. The vampire laughed, “Guess you can take it, good showing for a…” it trailed off as it caught the scent of the people below. It grinned and started down the steps “I smell lunch.”

  “No,” Mateo groaned struggling against the hands holding him down. He reactivated his pack guardian. His strength rose but he lacked the energy to move.

  Notice: you have exhausted yourself through the use of Greater Pack Guardian in combat. Your vitality has increased to reflect this.

  Mateo cursed at the bio tech. Vitality was great for recovery, but he needed help now. As if God Almighty was listening another notice showed itself.

  Notice: You have reached ten capacity with a set of greater sigils. Move to promotion requirements or meditate on your past actions to generate your personal sigil.

  Lacking the time to go through his interface, Mateo focused on his desire to keep those people safe. It was the reason he had chosen to join law enforcement. He didn’t need to be recognized, just know that he had a life worth living. Sharp pain filled his whole body as something took hold of him. He writhed, but was unable to move due to his captors.

  Notice: Sigil gained. Greater Stalwart Hero. six titles lost.

  Notice: Title received: First Hero

  Mateo took a moment to see what it did and nearly laughed. Greater Stalwart Hero: You may use your willpower to move your body. Mateo nearly laughed, that was exactly what he needed. He flexed his muscles. Nothing happened. He frantically looked at his interface and tried using that single point of spirit.

  He tried to move again. What followed was strange, his muscles did not flex, but his arm moved. Phantasmal claws tore through the thralls holding him down. He immediately rolled to his feet and lunged down the stairs. The vampire held the mother by her neck, inspecting her like a piece of meat.

  It squawked in surprise when Mateo’s claws wrapped around its neck, “Let's see if you need your head.”

  Mateo squeezed and pulled, wrenching the abomination’s skull from its body. It kept moving, so Mateo tore its heart out too. The people watched him wide eyed as the vampire was finally put down.

  Once the final piece of the vampire hit the floor, Mateo smiled at them tiredly, “Welcome to the new world.”