Ankara, Brekinar Family Home

  The Pioneers gaped as they stepped inside the Brekinar family mansion, taking in the stunning display of opulence in a moment of silence.

  A deep black carpet, soft and fluffy like an animal’s hide, rolled out in front of them over a white marble floor. The atrium was larger than many buildings, with a high ceiling that overlooked a vast, open central space. Velvet couches lined the dark, walnut-wood walls, above which were paintings of battle scenes and exotic planets. A large set of gold-lined double doors stood in front of the Pioneers, each one even taller than Gon. Two crossed axes, outlined in blazing fire, were carved into the wood above the doors with a reflective, rubellite substance. They emanated an intimidating aura, the reflective substance creating the optical illusion of flickering flames along their edges. Above them was the stuffed head of a large, ursine creature with angry crimson eyes. Three more animal heads were hung on the other three walls, one for each. An ebony, golden-eyed dragon hung on their left, a blue-eyed, yeti-like humanoid hung on the right, and a red-furred, emerald-eyed feline hung above the entrance behind them. All were roughly the same size, and all of them were caught up in a menacing snarl. On the high ceiling above, a large painting depicted a muscular human battling a humanoid, troll-like creature nearly twice his size.

  As the Pioneers stared, O’Riley muttered, “Not exactly subtle, is it?”

  They all turned to look at the mop-headed man, and he shrugged defensively, “What? It isn’t. Sure, the place is nice and all, but it screams…”

  “Death and murder?” Jordan suggested helpfully, waggling his eyebrows. O’Riley nodded, “Yeah. A little too much in the murder department. No feminine touch.”

  “’Devin O’Riley: Master of the Feminine Touch’ was not something I expected to see today. Or ever.” Jordan instigated, fighting back a teasing smile. To make things worse, Plincaron chimed in with legitimate curiosity, “Sergeant O’Riley, are you criticizing the decorative choices of one of the most powerful and wealthy clans in the Empire?”

  The ex-factory worker really looked embarrassed now, replying, “No, I wouldn’t dare. All I’m saying is-“

  “You’re saying that this place looks like it was built by a bunch of frat bros with too much money and a fetish for killing things.” Stanoslav weighed in, interrupting O’Riley and speaking as bluntly as ever. However, when the Pioneers turned to look at him incredulously, he remained unrepentant, “What? Never said it was a bad thing, did I? I think it looks great! It’s Mr. ‘Feminine Touch’ over there who thinks it’s a problem.”

  “Everyone knows women make for better decorators than men, generally speaking.” O’Riley argued back, growing redder by the second, though continuing to dig his hole deeper, “Even I can tell nobody worked too hard to make sure that things match around here. They just threw around a bunch of nice paintings and hunting trophies.”

  “I think there is a symbolism inherent to the paintings.” Markus interjected thoughtfully, simply trying to add something intelligent to the conversation but further burying O’Riley all the same, “Many of them depict major victories or discoveries made by notable Brekinar clan members. The trophies are less meant to match the décor and more intended to record significant achievements.”

  “Utilitarian to a fault, these Brekinar warriors are.” Jordan said, nodding sagely and pretending to be academic even as he just wanted to see O’Riley squirm, “Their walls tell a story because they were added to naturally over time, as their achievements added up. Or do you think it was intentionally laid out this way, Da?”

  Markus was opening his mouth to answer before O’Riley blurted out, “All right, all right, I get it. It’s all beyond a simple man like me. Now, are we going to look around or what?”

  “We find something to eat first.” Markus ordered, the veteran back to business, “We need to use this time to recover and get stronger above all else. We can explore later.”

  They all nodded and followed the leader through the double doors and into a posh living room. After a bit more poking around, they found the dining room and the kitchen, where the real work began.

  The Pioneers immediately began rooting around in the refrigerators and cupboards, looking for the most valuable Psionic resources they could find. Markus explained that there should be no problem with this, since the Commander had given them permission to use the house’s Psionic resources to their utmost when he’d said, ‘keep whatever you can find.’

  That said, the E class Pioneers would die on the spot if they tried to eat Alpha or Beta class ingredients, so some caution was required. Markus sternly warned them not to eat anything without his permission. Instead, the Pioneers piled a bunch of resources on the granite island in the middle of the kitchen, with the intent of inventorying things before preparing a full meal. Fortunately, all the food had detailed labels, which Jordani inspected as he helped lay the bounty out:

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  “Leg of an Ironhide Ox, Low Gamma Class. Primary Attr. Constitution.”

  “Body of a Yaban Manok, High Delta Class, Primary Attr. Dexterity.”

  “Liver of a Kantamifor, Mid Beta Class, Primary Attr. Str.”

  The Codex confirmed the labels when it had enough information to do so, and Jordan felt his excitement mount. This was going to be a good dinner.

  Once they’d laid out a nice spread, the Pioneers went through the food and distributed it according to their stats and suitability. Gon’s abilities revolved around Constitution and Strength, so he took food that leaned into that, while Jordan gravitated toward Dexterity and Psyche. Though, remembering some of his past injuries, Jordan also took some of the Constitution-focused meat that Gon didn’t need. There was more than enough food for everyone to take what they wanted and still have leftovers, and they hadn’t come anywhere close to emptying the cold storage. The E class Pioneers stuck with D class food at the highest, while the D class didn’t go beyond G class resources. Markus grabbed what little A class stuff they’d been able to find, alongside a substantial quantity of the B class stuff. Then, they got to cooking.

  It quickly became clear that there were too many cooks in the kitchen. The cooking space couldn’t easily accommodate all the Pioneers at once, and most of them didn’t have culinary skills beyond roasting things over an open fire. So, they decided to divide up their labor. O’Riley, Markus, Plincaron, and Zufall would cook for everyone. In the meantime, Jordan, Gon, Stan, and Hernandez would search the mansion for additional resources. They wandered the first-floor halls separately, examining the various nooks and crannies of the household yet ultimately finding little besides more martially decorated rooms.

  It got so exasperating that, at one point, Jordan walked in on Stan tucking one of the Brekinar family paintings into his Codex storage. Jordan called out, “Stan! Don’t steal the paintings. We’re supposed to be looking for Psionic resources. We’re not here to loot the place!”

  “The Commander said we could keep whatever we find. Well, I haven’t seen shit besides these oil paintings, so I’ll take’em! They’ve gotta be worth something…”

  “The commander’s point in sending us here was so we could rest, recover, then get back to the battlefield. The implication was that we were supposed to keep the things that would make us stronger. How is a painting going to make you stronger?”

  Stan turned toward one of the still-hanging paintings, depicting the Empire triumphing over the forces of the Oligarchy on a mountainous planet, then turned back to Jordan, his voice warm with the notion that he knew he was full of it and simply didn’t care, “Inspiration!”

  “Oh, great. Inspiration. I’m sure you’ll feel real inspired when the commander comes home, finds half of his paintings gone, and starts looking for the culprit. And…what the-…Where are the drapes?”

  The drapes were, in fact, gone. And the culprit was right in front of him.

  Jordan would swear, to anyone who would listen, that he was not a goody two-shoes. Practical jokes and goofing off all had their place. But stealing from the most powerful people in the Empire was not a smart move, even if there was a decent chance that the commander would look the other way. Other members of the Brekinar clan probably wouldn’t be as generous, and there was no need to poke the bear. Many of those members wouldn’t be happy that they were staying there in the first place. So, Jordan got Stan to put the painting and the drapes back. Apparently, the man had also stolen a valuable tea set and some antique weapons, which went back as well.

  With that over with, they met up again with the other two searchers and decided to split up. Hernandez and Gon would take the second floor, while Jordan and Stan would check the basement.

  Stepping down a wide flight of metal stairs, the human duo found a basement that was even larger than the house above it. There was a shooting range, a boxing arena, a weapon repair desk, and a sauna. And that was just the first floor. There were two more floors below that, containing nearly every amenity imaginable for a clan of serious fighters. It all operated at a scale that left the duo speechless once again. They’d expected the basement to be a simple concrete box, but they’d obviously gotten a lot more than they’d bargained for. Luckily, it was mostly open space, and the two of them breezed through the first and second basement floors quite quickly. Unluckily, they found nothing of value, and both men were starting to get fed up before they hit the third floor.

  “Jackpot!” Stan called out upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, and Jordan, following hot on his heels, saw precisely what he was talking about. Embedded into the wall was a massive safe door, taller than most men and much thicker. Jan tried opening it to no avail. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the door required biometric scanning and three separate passcodes to open.

  “Ah, come on!” Stan cried out again, mirroring Jordan’s own irritation. Stifling the feeling, he messaged his father about the find, only to get a cryptic message in return, “Leave it for now. Go answer the door.”

  Confused, Jordan puzzled over the message before his Enhanced hearing picked up the distant ring of the doorbell several floors above him. He told Stan about the message, and they both retreated to the ground floor, the other man grumbling the entire time. This time Jordan sympathized with him more, and he was weighing the pros and cons of actually letting Stan steal some paintings as he opened the front door:

  “Hey there, kid! Hope you didn’t start the party without us!”

  Who could it be but the remaining members of their little gang? Peralta, Scalia, Lao, and Ramirez all stood on the mansion’s doorstep, somewhat worse for wear but clearly mostly healed. Behind them were two metal crates and a Hovercar that’d just begun to take off. Peralta elaborated, “The boys from medical gave us a ride, along with some supplies that were requisitioned just for us. Weapons and ammo, but some Psionic stuff as well. Apparently, the order has come out from on high. ‘Loosen the Imperial purse and upgrade the city’s defenders.’ That includes us.”

  The two men let out exclamations of joy, and they moved to help carry the cases inside. Once the loot was finally secured, both Stan and Jordan embraced Ramirez, happy to see their old friend. Though the man’s words sobered them both up, “I cannot believe James is gone. He was taken from us far too soon.”

  They went quiet again, sharing a solemn moment for their fallen friend. Jordan half expected Stan to bark out something about revenge again, yet the man remained uncharacteristically silent. Peralta was the first to speak once more, gesturing to the boxes, then to the kitchen, “With these, and with whatever the Colonel’s got cooking in there, we’ll have a chance to avenge Macneil and Organon. We’ll grieve once we’ve done that.”

  They all nodded, and Jordan stepped forward to shut the front door. It closed with a loud clack, and the Pioneers got back to growing stronger.

  ?? Even gods need to be held sometimes

  What to Expect:

  - An epic, multi-book space opera with a large found family and multiple POVs.

  - A powerful but emotionally vulnerable protagonist with chaotic powers he struggles to control.

  - Strong, capable, and sometimes morally gray women.

  - High stakes, cosmic threats, and detailed world-building.

  What NOT to Expect:

  - LitRPG/System elements

  - Lone wolf power fantasy

  - A story that is only about romance

  This story contains mature themes, explicit sexual content, and graphic violence. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

  90+ Chapters in the first month

  500,000+ words already written and backlogged