Martin sat hunched over a small desk just outside the bedroom he shared with Claire. He had never been much for extravagant things and this little home suited him for now.

Up until a few days ago Martin and Claire were still living in their pre-induction home. That was before the refugee's came pouring in.

He'd offered his home immediately. Now every room, every hallway, even the porch was full—and still, it wasn't enough.

More people flooded in each day.

He felt a hand rest softly on his shoulder. Unconsciously he reached up and placed his hand on Claires and pulled it down to kiss it.

In just three days five different factions had been completely overrun. Larger factions than Martin's own couldn't hold back the constant waves of challenges. One by one territories crumbled and condensed.

Martin had been lucky, only one of his territories had bordered unclaimed land and they defended that border greedily. Already they had repelled three separate invaders. They had won so far. But it had come at a cost.

"It's not your fault sweetheart." Claire wrapped her arms around her husband from behind.

"Ronnie was a good man."

"He was a great man and an even better friend." Martin and Ronnie had been neighbors, close friends—their boys growing up side by side.

Martin had quickly accepted the reality of the new world. The old way of living had disappeared. At least for now. In the meantime?

People died.

Today Ronnie had died. The worst part? It could have been prevented. Ronnie had left the safety of their defenses to try and be a hero. Now his son had no father and his wife had no husband.

"How are his wife and boy doing?"

"Oh, you know Kevin. He's angry." She sighed. "And Janette just kept saying she warned him—Then she just broke."

Martin had nothing against members of his faction being brave, but being brave didn't mean foolish risk. It bothered him that he was angry at his friend. He just wanted to grieve but he couldn't shake his frustration. They had a plan and it was working.

Now they were down one of their best fighters and a good friend. Martin rubbed his eyes.

"I feel like we took five steps forward and ten steps back."

Claire kissed his head but didn't say anything. She knew Martin needed to work things out.

"We just settled on agreements with two of the factions that are completely gone. What's left of them now sleep in the streets of an already overcrowded faction. 200,000 people or more."

Martin slapped the desk lightly and stood up.

"What's worse is that now instead of Allies at our borders we are nearly completely surrounded by enemies. If Tayor and his faction fall, not only will we be completely surrounded but we'll also lose our only source of building material."

Claire hated seeing her husband like this. She knew how much he cared about the people in his faction and how hard he worked to keep them safe.

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"We have men to spare don't we? Can we send some of our soldiers?"

"Soldiers?" Martin scoffed. "Honey, those 'Soldiers' used to be neighbors. Their teachers, accountants, nurses, and some teenagers for goodness sake!"

His voice came out harder than he intended. He sighed and hugged his wife.

"Maybe we could've when we only had one side of our territory to protect. Now? Did you hear the reports of what attacked Javi's faction?"

Claire hugged him tighter. She had heard.

"They are probably exaggerating a little. There is no way just three monsters forced hundreds of thousands of people to flee for their lives."

Martin didn't share the shame belief. He knew all too well what a level 35 could do to a level 22. That really was the problem. They only had a handful of true Elites.

Ronnie had been one of those Elites. In a group of over 200,000 people only a handful of fighters were over level 30. Then you factor in non-combat and children and we only truly had 20,000 true combatants in total.

Not to mention most of those were the dregs and refugees of factions who were forced to leave their territories once their defenses were overrun.

The deaths hurt.

What hurt worse, Martin had done the math. His enemies grew and his allies shrank.

Regional Powers:

New Boise - 279,897

Taylorites - 193,839

Gree Cek - 75,743

Tria Calama - 12,458

Lomtide - 9,345

Martin's faction maintained its top spot, but the number was misleading. Tria Calama had not even been in the top five a day ago. Then after killing Javi and overwhelming his faction they popped in as number five and just kept climbing.

Javi's faction had been third. A faction with more people than Martins. Numbers just meant people. People meant nothing in the face of a high level Elite. They needed more Elites.

Maybe if Javi had agreed to accept some of Martin's fighters to defend his territory before the fallout of the dungeons opening this could have been avoided. But he didn't like the idea of having strong fighters from another faction in his territory.

Now he was dead and his territory was a major threat, along with two others they knew to be outright hostile. Martin hoped that he was at least enough of a power to keep the Tria Calama from attacking.

The way Martin saw it they only had one choice. They needed to flee. The problem remained, how?

Surrounded on all sides they would either have to choose a direction and fight territory by territory until they found an ally to combine with—or….

They could hold out long enough to complete their inter faction teleporter.

Both had their risks. On one hand if they fought territory to territory they might grow in levels and strength but they may also meet an enemy faction more dangerous than those at their doorstep.

Not to mention the logistics of an exodus of 200,000 plus people. Then there was also the issue of the Taylorites flatly refusing to flee, which would mean abandoning a massive human faction to their death.

Three of his borders were demonstrably hostile, and the other too stubborn to run and little help in the form of Elites. The only reason they hadn't fallen yet was the wall that was New Boise.

"Claire. They weren't exaggerating." Martin still held her. "The only chance I see that we have is getting that interfaction teleporter completed."

He held Claire, her head rested on his shoulder. She was a strong woman, a brave and determined woman. He loved her more than just about anything in the world. As he held his wife she began to breath heavily and ragged.

"He's out there you know." Martin stiffened. "I know he is. I just want to see him, you have to keep us safe Martin. I will not leave until I see my boy again."

This was just like her. The world was ending, people dying everyday by the hundreds and no escape in sight and she was worried about their son.

"I know he is, sweetheart." Martin wanted to believe. He did believe, but that is where he and his wife were different. She used that belief to give her strength, a reason to fight.

Not Martin. He hated to believe. It hurt too bad. He was a logical man and it killed him every time his belief and logic clashed. Layton was alone, in a world that demanded support to even survive.

Martin forced the thought away.

"He's our son. We'll get out of this, and I will find him."

The world was changing. Dungeons opened. Factions fell. And somewhere out there, Layton was still alive.

Martin wanted to believe it.

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