The bell stays decorative. The crowd learns to breathe. And Drew—Empty Hand Warrior, mop in tow—walks into the capital square to end a monster made of applause.
The Titan isn’t a dragon. It’s echo, optics, and bad habits with a choir. To beat it, Drew has to plate a Ring Charter at knee height, starve the rafters, and teach a city to count: Four = Double-Hold. Six = Ladder Reset. Eight = Quiet Ready. Nine = Anchor Feet. Ten = Clean Punch (Hands First). No swords. No passes. No tiers.
Sabotage? Of course. Sir Paywall pivots from ‘safety’ to ‘scoreboards’—until his crest melts into Pride Pins and becomes actual hinges. Vendors try ‘gold cash-outs.’ Choirboys eye the clapper. Drew answers with Single Signal (hands > horns), Stage Door footwork, Barrier Bash micro-corrections, and tea poured on two'''late.
This is a finale about method over spectacle: kids reading law at knees, benches doing hero work, and one open-palm placed on the beat that turns noise into furniture.
Expect:
• LitRPG energy with civic craft and clean, inventive fights
• A citywide Ten-Count set piece you’ll want to reread
• Running gags, posted plates, and a bell that finally retires with dignity
• A goodbye that feels like a handoff, not a trumpet blast
If you’ve ever wished a hero would win with timing, kindness, and a properly seated hinge, this one’s for you.
Read Ten-Count now and see how a city learns to fight with its hands—and keep the bell quiet.
Genre: Science Fiction
The Titan isn’t a dragon. It’s echo, optics, and bad habits with a choir. To beat it, Drew has to plate a Ring Charter at knee height, starve the rafters, and teach a city to count: Four = Double-Hold. Six = Ladder Reset. Eight = Quiet Ready. Nine = Anchor Feet. Ten = Clean Punch (Hands First). No swords. No passes. No tiers.
Sabotage? Of course. Sir Paywall pivots from ‘safety’ to ‘scoreboards’—until his crest melts into Pride Pins and becomes actual hinges. Vendors try ‘gold cash-outs.’ Choirboys eye the clapper. Drew answers with Single Signal (hands > horns), Stage Door footwork, Barrier Bash micro-corrections, and tea poured on two'''late.
This is a finale about method over spectacle: kids reading law at knees, benches doing hero work, and one open-palm placed on the beat that turns noise into furniture.
Expect:
• LitRPG energy with civic craft and clean, inventive fights
• A citywide Ten-Count set piece you’ll want to reread
• Running gags, posted plates, and a bell that finally retires with dignity
• A goodbye that feels like a handoff, not a trumpet blast
If you’ve ever wished a hero would win with timing, kindness, and a properly seated hinge, this one’s for you.
Read Ten-Count now and see how a city learns to fight with its hands—and keep the bell quiet.
Genre: Science Fiction
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Used availability for Craig Zerf's Ten-Count