One by one, the members of Clan:LESS sprang into action. They fired into the sky, but it amounted to nothing. Before they could train their sights on the creature, he struck. The horned serpent plunged into one of the gunships and ran through the soldiers on board. Clan:LESS fighters were tossed from his path like grass from a lawn mower. He carried the remnants of the boat deep underwater. Dozens of gamertags flew toward the sky as members of Clan:LESS departed the Spirit World. Silence returned for a moment before the leviathan resurfaced underneath another boat and trapped it in his jaws, shaking it from side to side in the air like a dog playing with a stick.

This beast was Mishi-pizhiw, perhaps the most intimidating of Bugz’s creations.

Mishi-pizhiw dove out over the water and his body crashed down across a huge tranche of the Clan:LESS armada. More than a hundred gamertags evaporated upward. In an instant, with the contours of the battle now shifted, Bugz was owning Clan:LESS.

“Retreat!” Alpha screamed, diving into the water just moments before the razor-sharp fins on Mishi-pizhiw’s back tore his boat in half. The ensuing wake swamped Alpha’s energy cannon. It blinked on and off listlessly a few times before sinking into the lake, never to be seen again. One of the remaining boats plucked Alpha from the waves as he and the surviving members of Clan:LESS made a break for the shore.

Once Alpha was safely on board the boat, Bugz heard him scream to his followers, “This is not a retreat, we are simply regrouping! We must always win!”

CHAPTER 4

Their horde now wrecked, Feng and the other Clan:LESS survivors beached their boats on the shore. He looked over his shoulder at the water-borne beast bearing down on them. Neither he nor any of his clanmates saw Bugz directly ahead of them, swinging her obsidian sword, until the first heads began to roll. More gamertags ascended to the heavens.

Feng tripped as he jumped off the boat and fired blindly behind him. From his hands and knees, he struggled onto the muddy shores of Lake of the Torches to reload his gun, cursing to himself as he went.

“Regroup on the far side of the mountain!” shouted one of Alpha’s henchmen, carrying their injured boss across his shoulders like a firefighter. Feng touched the raised Ø branded onto his arm.

“Well, they say Alpha likes to get carried away.” Joe grinned at his own dad-joke as he ran by in the direction of the retreating soldiers.

As Feng tried to get back to his feet, he saw a pair of sleek black shoes before him. Emblazoned on their vamps—in the style of traditional Anishinaabe moccasins—was a design familiar to many across the Floraverse: a neon-pink flower adorned by Day-Glo-green leaves. He looked up past the shoes, and past their owner’s hips, ripped torso, and shoulders.