Sacrifices
Author: Charles Dean
Date: 2018-05-08 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Adventure; Games
Description: Desperate to save as many people as he can from a horrible fate in the cruel game of the gods, Lee and his small group of friends abandon the relative safety of Satterfield for the great city of Kirshtein. Tensions within the city have reached a breaking point after the arrival of an enemy Herald, and Lee is soon caught up in the struggle for power. Captured, imprisoned, and forced to fight for his life on the blood-soaked sands of the Kirshtein arena, Lee has to figure out how to survive long enough to mend the rifts in the broken city before it falls apart completely. Armed with new skills,

War Aeternus: Sacrifices

Written by: Charles Dean

Edited by: Joshua Swayne and Richard Haygood

Copyright © 2018 by Charles Dean

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: Rock Hard and Ready

Chapter 2: Tight Fight with a Brewer’s Delight

Chapter 3: Pub-to-Pub Sales God

Chapter 4: LIVE TONIGHT: Thirsty Gladiator Bares All!

Chapter 5: The Starving Artist: Combat Edition

Chapter 6: A PL in Hell

Chapter 7: The Vanishing Pants Trick

Chapter 8: Meeting the Dad is a Walk in the Park

Chapter 9: Beer Bro Reunion

Chapter 10: Screw the Messenger

Chapter 11: A Story About Dragons

Chapter 12: Expiration Date

Epilogue: The MC Needs to Get Laid Already

Bonus Chapter 1: Miller’s Loss

Game Manual

(Stats, Characters, Races, Items, Skills, Locations, Quests, Monsters, Gaming Terms)

About the Author

Other Books by Charles Dean

Prologue

I must apologize before you go further into this book, for I will be lying to you. I will be using only fiction to tell the truth. My words will be a distracting contrivance of smoke and mirrors that I will use to shine light on the beast that is man, the divine clay, shaped by God, hardened by reason, broken by time. I hope, in the end, my sin of deception can be forgiven by you, the reader.

The Book of Lee ~ Prelude, Verses 1-3

Augustus sat in front of a bank of monitors, his tiny chimpanzee head slowly swiveling back and forth from one side to the other as he took in everything. Images reflected back that would appear as little more than simple static to any mere mortal, but in reality, they were captured moments taken from the various lives he had lived, each playing at thousands of times the speed at which they had been lived. The frenzied torrent of information was something that even most gods would have trouble following, and he alone amongst this region’s Council of the Gods was able to comprehend all streams simultaneously. He was, after all, the closest to actual divinity, however far away that might actually be.

The memories playing before him were only just that: brief flashes in time that captured all the women he had loved across all the different realities. The still frames flickered past at lightning speed, and he felt the irresistible tug of affection to visit those lost loves. He often felt that same longing, the desperate ache in his gut, that pulled at him to visit those times and relive those moments.

It wasn’t a question of ability that stopped him. Someone with his level of talent could step into any point in any reality at any time. He could travel to the exact time shown on any one of the screens on a whim, instantly regaining anyone and everyone lost to time as easily as stepping from one room to another. Yet, despite being more than capable, revisiting the past was an unspoken crime forbidden upon pain of death. Augustus was forced to settle for reliving those memories vicariously, forever destined to watch as a third-party observer. He could do little more than watch the loves of his eternally-long life, each one still living and breathing somewhere in the vast expanse of time, live happily ever after with the version of his former self that was displayed on the screen.

If he dared to step into any of those moments again, the Clockmaker, the being who had created the game, would wipe out his entire existence in an instant. The crime of popping into a timeline at or before a previous visit wasn’t a rule that he or any of the other gods had been told, but it was one that they simply took as fact. It existed in the same way that the laws of gravity did: unspoken but undeniable. Every god who had tried to violate the prohibition had been extinguished, and enough had tried over the eons that very few ever dared question it any longer. Trial and error were how one often learned the true rules of the universe.

Another such rule, for example, was that each deity must fix their consciousness in the prime reality, the reality of the gods. This prevented any one god from using his powers to spy upon the future of that reality, thereby learning the future winner of the games. Each reality thereafter was, in essence, a separate save file with the potential to be played out until completion. No one realm would ever impact another, and the gods’ influence was limited by their inability to interfere or cheat--something no other god wanted to worry about with stakes as high as these.

That also meant, of course, that Augustus only ever had two real options: he could either socialize with the other gods, most of whom wouldn’t even speak to him so long as he wore his multifarious animal disguises, or he could spend decades staring at the screens in his room, watching and rewatching digital memories of his temporary, partial excursions into other worlds.

Conveniently, and fortunately, the rules of the game were provided in clearly-stated, big blue pop-up boxes for every god to see, and they were always given in advance. The other caveat, the one that prevented anyone from cheating as soundly as gravity kept one’s feet planted to the ground, was the prime rule, which was always stated first: “You may not kill another god outside the game or outside using one’s Herald to kill another, thereby extinguishing that god’s life.” This same rule also helped maintain civility between the gods, even when the games were being played.

It was also this same rule that was on Augustus’ mind when he was interrupted.

“You’re the only god I know that would torture himself like that,” Mary’s voice called out from the doorway as she entered Augustus’ room. “Why do you insist on watching them again and again?”

“The same reason you insist on showing up here despite knowing who and what I am,” Augustus replied as he changed into his human form, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Sometimes, we just can’t help ourselves.”

“Why did you never try to find happiness with another god?” Mary asked. “Someone less mortal?”

“You mean like you?” Augustus asked. He swiveled his chair around, finally tearing his eyes away from the bank of memories and stood up. “You want to know why I fall for mortals when the end result is inevitable? When death is all that waits for the ones I love?”

She quivered, automatically taking a step back as Augustus rose to his feet. “Yes, that’s . . .” Her voice faltered but her mouth continued to move.

Augustus laughed snidely. “You can’t even stop yourself from trembling, yet you ask this question? What god would still share my bed for any reason but fear if they knew my form and knew what I had done?”

“But”--Mary’s shaking lips stiffened--“you could.”

“What?” Augustus took one large stride forward, and she reflexively moved back even further. Her steps were small, however, and Augustus was right in front of her before she could escape. He leaned in slightly and then reached up with a single hand, turning her chin upward and forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Relax. Take a deep breath. We’re only at the beginning. We have a lot of work to do, a game to watch together, and I can’t have you breaking now.”

“Yes.” Mary nodded and then moved away from him again. “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s a good girl.” Augustus smiled down at her still. He didn’t miss the way she defensively cover her chest with her arms or the way she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. Eons have passed, and still this is the reaction I elicit . . . Was my crime so grand? Was my sin so great as to push all who know me into such a state? “Now, tell me why you’ve come.”

Mary spoke, and it sounded as if she were forcing the words out. “The meeting . . . Siegman called for another, but you never replied. I wanted to make sure you didn’t show up late and upset anyone.”

“You mean you wanted to protect them?” Augustus brought up the messages he had been ignoring while watching his past loves. “I see. We’ll be cutting it close on time. Do you want to take a nice walk over there together?”

Mary’s feet quickly carried her back to the door, her eyes always glued on Augustus. “No, that’s okay. Thank you. I’m just going to head over there so that I’m not late. I’ll . . . I’ll see you there.” Then, whipping around in a single fast movement, she darted out the door as if she were escaping a burning building and too scared to look back.

Augustus laughed again. “Good girl,” he said quietly, watching her beautiful figure as she retreated. Abandoning his human form once again, he shapeshifted into a silverback gorilla and followed after her.

-----

“Augustus, it’s already bad enough that you show up to meetings as monkeys, rats, dogs and whatever other animal you seem to fancy at the time, but must you also further disrespect our gatherings by showing up late?” Siegman’s voice, exasperated as always, carried across the room as Augustus entered.

The gargantuan ape sauntered across the room unhurriedly, his knuckles dragging across the ground, and seated itself in a chair. As soon as he touched the chair, he began changing shapes yet again--the seat simply wasn’t made to accommodate a hefty primate--and assumed the form of a golden retriever. Given the list Siegman had thrown at him, it seemed appropriate. Truthfully, he rarely morphed into canines. He loved most animals, but dogs were generally clever enough to warrant an exception. They always sensed when he walked around the world wearing furry coats of disguise, and they instantly knew he was a fake. So, he tended to avoid mankind’s protectors and stuck to creatures that didn’t bark so much.

Augustus snickered as he eased into his chair. “Sorry about that, Siegman. I lost track of time.”

Siegman seemed so stunned by the apology, despite the fact it was sandwiched within a snide and sarcastic tone, that he didn’t press the issue like he normally would have. “You? Sorry? I see . . . Well, we have a lot on the table for this meeting, and I wanted to get it started as soon as possible. Since I see that everyone is now here and paying attention, let’s start off this discussion with the first pressing event: we’ve had the death of our first god from the new game.”

Augustus’ eyes shot wide open, and his back straightened. “Wait, are we celebrating? Is this a drinking occasion?” he asked, looking at Siegman in anticipation.

Siegman, Cadwe and a few other gods looked at Augustus with dismay, but the rest didn’t react at all. Sord, the Loot God of Rising Numbers, never even bothered to lift his head from where it was buried in his arms on the table.

“What?” Augustus asked indignantly, looking to everyone around him. There wasn’t a hint of joy or amusement to be found on any of them. “You all should lighten up. It’s not like most of you have any skin in the game to begin with.”

Only, Sord, Mary and Augustus had Heralds in the game, but he understood why they were so reticent to cheer on the death of a god. Lee, Augustus’s Herald, who also happened to be a descendant of Angelica, the Goddess of Regret, had recently killed another Herald. In doing so, he had also killed the God of Storytelling, successfully ending the existence of a being most would call immortal. This god hadn’t been a friend of theirs, wasn’t from their region, and most of the people present had never met him, but he was still one of their own.

No matter how many gods entered these wars between the avatars called Heralds, it was rare for more than one to leave the war alive. This death had been a clear reminder of the mortality that most liked to pretend they didn’t have--a thing that was almost a guarantee once they were drafted into one of the Creator’s games. Almost everyone at the table would inevitably die sooner or later, and a death in games was a somber promise of that fact. Even the most arrogant god at the table, Siegman, was humbled to the point where Augustus’s reiteration brought nothing more than disdain from him.

“On our bed, she rests her head, unseen we watch with dread. Each night we sleep, to counting sheep, while she counts out our lives--our memories, the fresh archives, nothing truly survives. But grasp we do, with each platitude, hoping it will occlude--only to find, our hope to bind, left us and her entwined, on the covers, in the bed, where she’ll one day kiss our head.” Cadwe rattled off his poetry as if it were open mic night at a run-down dive.

Augustus looked over at the woefully-depressing teenager-like God of Poetry and decided, like everyone else at the table, to simply ignore everything he had just heard. “How about you, Mary?” Augustus smiled at the beautiful Goddess of Blood. “Are you sad about this? Or would you perhaps like to celebrate and share a drink with me?” Augustus pulled a flask from the ether and tossed it across the table.

To everyone’s visible shock, Mary didn’t instantly reject the proffered liquor. Instead, she grabbed the container from the air and held it up in front of her, offering a toast. “I will drink to the fact my Herald still yet lives,” she said, popping open the top and chugging half of the twenty-ounce flask.

“Something doesn’t smell right,” Erik said with a frown.

“You really shouldn’t try to pun off your own name. It’s dull,” Sord grumbled at the God of Smells and Spices. “Improve your humor stats with practice elsewhere if needed.”

Augustus chuckled at the scene. “I’m still not sure why you are all so depressed. You knew this would happen.”

“Yes, but we thought it would happen later,” Siegman responded. “The war has only been going on for little more than two months, not two years. You should very well know that these games generally last several hundred years. The first death is usually only inflicted after sufficient time has passed for each of the Heralds to seed their religions properly. Your Herald has upset the balance of things and broken longstanding traditions that most gods within these games hold sacred.”

“I know!” Augustus proclaimed, elevating both his glass and the tension at the same time. “Isn’t it great? My Herald set a new game record! It’s especially impressive when you think about how your stupid penalty set him back by two months, but he still managed to beat another Herald in his first couple of days! Gotta love an upset, right?”

“That Herald was weak and cowardly, and his death was to be expected. Your Herald only broke the traditional waiting period and sped up the process,” Siegman chastised. “With such a serious matter, with the life of gods on the line, both he and you should show more respect to the process.”

Lenfers, the God of Architecture, leaned forward and stuck out his hand. “I’ll have a glass,” he said, causing everyone to be a little nervous. Whenever Lenfers made his move in a conversation, it was generally at someone else’s expense.

Even though he thought something was odd, Augustus was still happy to oblige. He pulled another flask out of nowhere and tossed it to Lenfers. “That’s the spirit, brother. Glad you could join us.”

Lenfers snatched the flask out of the air and immediately took a swig. He then held the flask in front of him and studied it carefully before looking over at Mary. “I see,” he said. “Mary is indeed acting differently toward our furry friend. She showed up just moments before him, as if they came together and separated just before entering. Since he was late, and she’s generally always early . . .” He trailed off, looking back down at the alcohol.

With that, the whole table turned to look over at Mary. She sat quietly, suddenly fixated on draining every last drop from the container she clutched tightly. She held the flask up as if it were a shield, and the stares from the other gods were a wall of arrows she was trying to fend off.

Lenfers resealed his flask and tossed it back to Augustus.

“Given the situation, Angelica’s silence is to be expected. But what have you done, Mary?”

“She’s just worried about her Herald,” Augustus interjected, defending Mary. “Ease up.” It might have seemed like a casual comment to anyone else, an errant god choosing to suddenly play the role of the white knight and stick up for his friend, but Augustus knew that his words would only add fuel to Lenfers’ suspicions--suspicions he wanted to stoke. “She faces her own death every day with little to no control over it. Perhaps you could be a bit nicer?”

Lenfers turned his gaze from Mary to Augustus. “I see. Interesting,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting indeed.”

Mary gave Augustus a weak smile and then went back to trying to pull whatever remained in her flask out for consumption, causing Augustus to cackle softly.

Chapter 1

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 17

Health: 270/270

EXP: 4002/10500

Primary Stats:

Power 27 (28)

Toughness 27 (28)

Spirit 27 (28)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 14

Intelligence 121 (127)

Honor 5

Faith 622

Personal Faith 213

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Novice Level 9

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Novice Level 9

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Lee’s heart skipped a beat as he watched three of his spears sail through the air. He needed their placement to be absolutely perfect since any slight deviation from the plan could result in either his or one of his friends being killed. He forced himself to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat and willed the knots in his stomach to relax, but his body refused to cooperate, and he remained as tense as ever. There was a certain level of stress that came with any fight that promised to be as intense as this one, and until he knew whether or not his gambit was going to pay off, his heart was going to hang suspended in his chest.

Come on . . . Come on . . . Come on . . . Lee’s first spear nailed its target right in the side, but then it just bounced off as harmlessly as if it were nothing more than a foam bullet striking a man in chainmail. The Cragaboom wasn’t even bothered by it. The giant, spherical beast had countless rows of razor-sharp teeth, four thin, metallic-looking, spider-like legs, two actual rock cannons mounted on its forehead, and since it was nothing but living rock, it was far more durable than his spear was damaging. The second and the third spears struck one after the other, but they too careened off of the creature’s craggy exterior without dealing any damage.

“We’re under attack!” a voice yelled. One of the numerous cultists present who worshiped the beast had finally realized what was going on. The clansmen cared for the Cragaboom in the same way that a modern-day American might a cat: they provided all of its necessities and took care of its needs in return for some sort of imagined benefit and a very real sense of security when they slept. The beast had already proven itself useful many times over by protecting them from the town’s militia and other law-bringing forces, but there was one very real problem with the relationship that posed a problem for everyone involved and many who weren’t: the Cragaboom had a very real taste for flesh, and it seemed to treat any humanoid as an especially tasty treat--a treat that the cultists were more than happy to provide.

“To victory, brothers! Come on! Let’s show these bastards what we got!” another one of the cultists shouted in return. With that, the group charged in the direction from which the spears had been launched.

The Cragaboom turned as well, and a large, cylinder-like drill shot out underneath it and plunged into the earth beneath its feet just as two more spears were launched toward the creature. The first missed entirely, flying off wide, but the second struck it in one of its four large eyes, drawing out a long, loud and pained cry.

Come on . . . Come on, you bastards . . . Lee waited anxiously with bated breath, watching as the cultists surged ahead and followed the flow of spears back to their source. Time crept by slowly as he waited for the exact right moment to spring his trap. That’s it . . . a little closer . . .

“Where is he?” one of the cultists shouted in confusion. They had reached the spot the spears had been flung from, but no one was there.

The beast recovered from its wounded eye and twisted about while looking for any sign of its attacker, clearly prepared to fire off the tightly-packed chunks of earth from the twin cannons on its head at a moment's notice.

“I don’t know, but what in the heck is this?” another one asked, spying the ballista Lee had set up there. He had fashioned a rather large crossbow-like mechanism and secured it to a tripod which he then planted into the ground and rigged to function with the cutting of a string rather than the actual pulling of a trigger.

“It’s a trap!” the man behind him yelled, finally realizing what was going on.

But it was too late. The words hadn’t even left his mouth when a log fell behind them, and a series of long, heavy ropes with spikes threaded through them sprang up from the ground. The weight of the fallen tree snapped the barbed rope against the trees all around the group and then pulled it tight, effectively trapping the nine cultists who were closest to the ballista inside a makeshift cage. One unfortunate man who was too far to the side was caught up in the ropes, impaled by the barbs and hoisted into the air, where he hung suspended, unable to move.

“Crap! Cut through them!” someone yelled. The same man rushed over and began hacking away at the nearest set of ropes, but it wasn’t going to do him very much good. Each strand was thick enough that it would have taken minutes of hard work to hack through alone, but the hardened barbs made it doubly impossible to get a good swing at the actual rope. To make matters even worse for the cultists, Lee had spared no expense in planning the trap: he had wired up dozens of ropes and strung them together to ensure that no one would ever be able to climb over or under and escape.

You can come back now, Lee thought to his telepathically-connected golem and constant companion, Ethan. He let out the breath that he had been holding and felt his heart finally start up again as a bit of relief flooded into him at the first sign of a flawlessly-executed plan. Now, Lee only had one thing left to wait for.

“Those traps better not steal my glory!” Miller boomed in warning from beside him. Lee’s Firbolg friend was vehemently against this type of sneaky, underhanded behavior, and he chose that exact moment to not only voice his complained but also charge the Cragaboom with his spear in hand.

The creature immediately turned to face the Firbolg warrior and fired off the giant clumps of dirt it had prepared from the twin cannons affixed to its forehead. As soon as the first two shots were discharged, it pushed the huge drill on its underbelly into the earth again, quickly pulling up massive quantities of dirt before reaching down, scooping it up, and reloading its weapons. If it weren’t for Miller’s reflexes, which were abnormally quick for someone so large, he likely would have been smeared across the ground by the two-foot-wide projectiles. As he was, however, Miller was nimbly able to dodge the speeding cannonballs of dirt and easily avoid them.

This was the final cue that Lee had been watching and waiting for. He popped out of the woods, a dagger in each hand, and charged forward side by side with Amber.

“Come on, you bastard! Is that the best you can do?” Miller laughed, taunting the Cragaboom as he slammed his spear into the ground and let out his infamous Drunken Shout. The inebriating war cry had originally done nothing more than make everyone within its area of effect drunk for ten seconds, but it had grown in strength until it was an almost-permanent debuff. He couldn’t cast it as often as before since the timer between uses had grown in conjunction with the duration of its effect, but it was much more useful now--especially against monsters. Most creatures had little-to-no tolerance for alcohol, and the Cragaboom was no exception. It began wobbling on its metallic legs as soon as the debuff hit and automatically retracted its dirt drill as it struggled to remain standing.

“Let’s go, you filthy rock! Show me your strength! Drink in the fresh taste of my justice and prepare yourself for death!” Miller’s taunts rang out as he closed in on the beast from in front, and Amber and Lee rushed in from behind. They weren’t as bold as the brash Firbolg, and they weren’t as strong, but they were much faster.

The trio didn’t even make it halfway to the beast before the fourth member of their party made her appearance. Like Lee, Ling had waited until the creature was afflicted by Miller’s Drunken Shout before making her move. She stepped out from behind cover and unleashed a string of arrows, firing them off one after another in rapid succession. Most of them bounced off of its craggy exterior the same as Lee’s spears had, but three well-placed shots struck their intended targets. One by one, the arrows whizzed into the creature’s remaining three eyes and rendered it blind.

“I’ve got your cover!” she called out. “The rest is up to you!” She then turned and concentrated her fire on the cultists after that, leaving her friends to finish off the beast on their own.

Lee didn’t have time to see if she actually hit any of them, but he knew that the foolish zealots wouldn’t likely make it out of his trap alive. They were completely unarmored, they weren’t carrying shields, and they didn’t have any sort of ranged weapons of their own to fire back with. Lee already knew from experience that they were far too reliant upon the ranged abilities of the Cragaboom to take archers as a serious threat. It was magically more accurate the further away its target was, and they had likely never even given thought to a contingency plan in the case they weren’t able to depend on its defensive capabilities.

“Thanks,” Lee mouthed in Ling’s direction as they reached the beast. It was squirming in place, twisting back and forth in agony as it desperately tried to cope with being stricken both blind and terribly drunk.

“Ready?” Amber asked.

Lee nodded, stashing away his daggers as he ran up to the creature and cupped his hands together. “Go get ’em!” he shouted encouragingly.

She placed one foot into his cupped and locked hands, and he used all of his strength to boost her up on top of the ten-foot-tall stone behemoth.

“Got it!” Amber shouted back. She sheathed her daggers as soon as she was aboard, dropped down onto her stomach and began crawling across the beast.

Her job was simple and straightforward: get on top of the creature, make her way to its forehead, and cut away the cannons that were mounted there. The artillery worked using a weird suction system, and they were the only fleshy part of the beast’s body that was vulnerable aside from its eyes and mouth. The brute didn’t have arms or any other way to touch its own head, so as long as nothing interrupted her, the creature was as good as dead at this point. Lee knew that there wasn’t a chance of it surviving Amber’s meticulous cutting, so he just pulled out his dagger and turned toward the incoming cultists.

“I can’t believe you’re letting her get all the credit for the kill!” Miller grumbled loudly, slamming the butt of his spear into the ground. “And we’re going about it in such a cheap way! We should be fighting it fair and square, mano-a-mano.”

“There are still enemies behind us,” Lee began impatiently. “Do you want to argue while Ling gets all the kills, or do you want to come with me?” He laughed at the rhetorical question since he knew that Miller wouldn’t argue so long as he had something to fight, and he had something to fight fairly.

“Fine!” Miller may not have been fully satisfied with Lee’s answer, but he clutched his spear, turned around, and charged the cultists anyway.

“What are you doing?!” one of the cultists cried when he spied Amber, who was already working away at removing the turrets.

“Get away from the sacre--!” another one of the cultists protested, crying out and raising his sword as he yelled, only to be instantly silenced by an arrow. Another series of arrows suppressed the people on his right and left too before either Miller or Lee could make it to the first person.

Seeing the pattern, Miller finally lost his cool. “NO! I WILL NOT BE CHEATED!” He hurled his spear so hard that it pierced through the last living person and transfixed him to a tree six feet behind where he had been standing. The force of the blow was so powerful that a crack formed in the tree’s trunk.

You have killed the Cultists and the Cragaboom. Your party has been awarded 1 gold, 74 silver, 19 copper, 1 Eye of the Cragaboom, 1 rock gut, and 2763 Experience. Your share is 43 silver, 55 copper, 1 rock gut, and 690 Experience.

“That was well done, team,” Lee said as he turned and started walking back to Ling, both Ethans swooping down from the air to land on his shoulders. Despite occupying two separate bodies, the two shared a single collective consciousness that was closely linked to Lee’s own--likely since they had been crafted from his spirit--and they seemed to have been influenced by his quirks. His shoulders were his golems’ favorite perch, and they often returned to alight there after a hard-won fight. Old school Japanese RPG-style victory music routinely ran through his head at the finish of every fight, and the little flying mice often performed matching victory dances to go along with it.

“Well done? Team? I didn’t get to do anything!” Miller raged, his face turning red enough to match his hair. “Where is the glory in distracting something?! I want to fight another! We need to hunt another one! I won’t let this be how it ends!”

Lee glanced over to check on Amber and found her still lying atop the now-dead Cragaboom. She was covered in blood, her chest heaving up and down as she sucked in air, and she looked exhausted.

Well, we do need the gold from the bounties these things and their cultists give . . . The loot drops aren’t bad, and the EXP is good . . . “I think that’s possible,” he responded.

“Without your stupid traps and cheats!” Miller demanded. “Justice should not be delivered through such foul means. It sours the effect and spoils any earned righteousness!”

“I actually agree with Miller,” Ling said. “They aren’t really needed. They helped at first, and they were absolutely necessary two days ago when we started using them, but we can handle this without them now. I think it’d be quicker if we just located a camp and cleared it out on our own. I can easily suppress most of the weak cultists without help.”

She was right: they didn’t actually need the traps anymore. But Lee needed them. He needed to perfect them and to understand them. Intricately-planned and thoroughly-prepared traps might not be as efficient as just bashing enemies into the dirt one after another, and they were a waste of time for someone who was already plenty strong, but they were a godsend for someone who was as weak as he still was. Ramon, the traitorous bartender that Lee had stopped during his first major quest, had taught him just how deadly the right trap could be if it was in the right person’s hands.

Augustus, the God of Alcohol and Crafts, had told him that he was over two months behind every other Herald in terms of progress and growth. He wouldn’t come straight out and tell Lee where the others were in terms of power or levels, but he had plainly hinted at the fact that they were likely snowballing in strength. If Lee was going to stop the other Heralds, he needed something that he could use to catch them off guard. He needed to kill them as quickly and mercilessly as Ramon had killed David--instantly knocking him out of the fight with the opening of a single door.

The sound of clapping echoed out from behind one of the trees along the border of the encampment, silencing their conversation and pulling Lee away from his thoughts.

“Very good! Not even a single scratch on your group! Very good indeed,” a man called as he emerged from the woods. He and the four others with him were all grinning broadly as they walked out of the shadows to greet Lee and his gang. “I have to say: we almost couldn’t have done it better ourselves.”

“Almost,” the man on his right, a purple-haired, black-toothed humanoid that Lee didn’t recognize, said.

What in the heck is he? Lee asked his tutorial prompt.

He is a variant of the Human race. While his particular branch of Humans comes from a separate universe than yours, they have no significant genetic differences. The current changes in his appearance and dental deformities were established recently.

I see. Lee nodded along to the tutorial as he read the giant, blue prompt that appeared.

“That’s right. Even your leader knows we’d do it better,” the purple-haired man pressed, mistaking Lee’s nodding along with the system notes for an acquiescence to his group’s braggadocios claim. He flashed a smile, showing a wicked-looking, tooth-filled mouth, and then laughed. “Which is why we’re going to have to get you to hand over the core: so that we can turn in the bounty.”

“I see.” Lee verbalized his thoughts this time, his head still nodding along as he sized up the group. He was uncomfortable with the fact that his pair of golems hadn’t detected them. That meant that their Sneak skill had to be even stronger than his.

When he had reached the Novice tier of sneak, it had given him a unique bonus: Harder to Notice if People Aren’t Paying Attention. It was as if their senses magically overlooked his existence.

It was a small change, but it was the only thing that would have allowed every one of them to navigate around his mices’ vastly superior vision and sense of hearing. Their feat also gave him a rough idea of how they stacked up. They’re probably our level if not higher, he concluded. He wanted to give the others a warning not to act impolitely, but when he turned his head to try and signal them, he realized that Miller was already breathing deeply, red-faced, and smiling broadly.

Crap, Lee thought, backing up a step.

“Easy there,” the one who had clapped said. “We’re not trying to start anything. All we’re saying is that you should hand over the bounty and walk away, boy. Otherwise, we’ll kill you and your friend and then have a little fun with those two girls of yours.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lee shook his head and took another step back, quietly using his inventory to put away his daggers and pull out his tower shield and sword. “You really think that it’ll go exactly how you want it to?”

“I don’t think it’ll go that way,” the Firbolg in front said boastfully. “I know it will, boy. It always does. And what’s a Human like you going to do about it? You’re just going to have to take it--just like those pretty little things next to you will once you’re dead,” he said snidely. “Now, come on, boy. Don’t make me soil my hands by killing one of your stinking kind. Just hand over the bounty before things get ugly.”

“Miller,” Lee started as he shifted another inch backward. “What do you think about having a drink with them?”

Miller was clearly ready to burst, and a quick glance at both of the girls told him that they were having trouble maintaining their calm as well. Each looked as if she were ready to vomit, but their worried expressions eased a bit when they heard Lee.

“I think a drink is perfect,” Miller answered.

“I might have shared a drink with you,” the leader said, looking at Miller pointedly, “if you weren’t hanging around their kind. I’m not about to throw away my dignity like you have. Look, we’ve talked enough. You’ve got ten seconds until we start shedding blood. Ten . . . Nine . . .”

“Buy them a round, Miller,” Lee insisted. He hefted the sword and shield that had gotten him through so many fights and prepared himself as best as he could on such short notice.

“Let me send them straight to Augustus,” Miller said, once more slamming his spear to the ground activating his Drunken Shout. It was obvious from their sudden wobbliness when the effects hit them, but all except a lone Firbolg among them weren’t nearly as affected as the Cragaboom had been. Like most bar-traveling adventurers in this world, they had probably drunk more than their fair share of alcohol, and they had probably spent far more than their fair share of time in bar fights while drunk; so, unlike the monster, which had trouble recovering from the effects of the shout, most of this group was only stunned for a split second. Their eyes glazed over a bit as the sensation of being inebriated hit them in a wave, and they braced themselves for the inevitable conflict.

No one from Lee’s group so much as hesitated. They were all used to taking advantage of the Drunken Shout, and they had long since grown inured to its effects. Lee slammed straight into the Firbolg Leader, throwing his tower shield up in front of him and ramming it into the Firbolg’s body as hard as he could. The giant man was thrown back and sent tumbling to the ground, unable to recover his balance in time. Lee wanted to move in for a quick follow-up attack, but before he could get close enough to swing at the downed man, the purple-haired one came in and stabbed at Lee.

Crap! Lee grimaced, involuntary flinching as the 32-damage attack sank into his arm and then panicking when he saw the weapon flash in front of him followed by the number. It wasn’t a particularly high amount of damage--in fact, it didn’t even make up more than twelve percent of his total hit points--but the combination gave away his opponent’s level. He had seen that exact weapon being sold to a traveling merchant not too long ago, and he remembered it as being nothing more than a simple, steel dagger that did four damage. So, while the roguish-looking, purple-haired bastard wasn’t tricked out in anything fancy--his gear might even be mistaken for a starter’s--he was actually level 26.

The leather armor Lee was wearing blocked 8 damage, so such a weak weapon wouldn’t normally do any damage at all. Simple math said that 8 damage canceled out 4 damage dealt. For him to take 32 damage, the purple-haired Firbolg had to have 36 points in Power. Assuming that he started with close to the same ten base Power that normal Humans did, and assuming he gained one additional point per level, it meant that his opponent had to be around level 26, a full nine levels over Lee.

That realization raced through Lee’s head as he shifted his shield, blocking the second attack and turning it away. He took advantage of the poor follow-up and thrust forward with his sword, stabbing directly into the dagger-wielder’s stomach. A brief look of confusion flashed across the man’s face as Lee’s blade found its target, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from attacking once again. His daggers flashed out in rapid succession a second time, and Lee barely had time to throw his shield back in front of him to stop both attacks. The flurry of attacks continued unabated, and Lee struggled to quickly come up with a plan while he was hidden behind the inch-thick barrier of wood and steel. The speed with which the man attacked was terrifying, and he knew that he couldn’t take him head-on, so he had to come up with something else.

Trying to assess the situation without having to pop out from behind the tower shield, he swapped to using Little Ethan’s two pairs of eyes to get a better grasp of what was going on in front of him. The two flying mice had the perfect vantage point from which to observe the fight. The purple-headed goon was ducking up and down and weaving from side to side, constantly trying to maneuver past Lee’s shield, and the Firbolg that Lee had knocked over was still trying to get back onto his feet behind him. Unlike with the lanky Human on the other side of the shield, Miller’s Drunken Shout seemed to have been much more effective on that lone Firbolg, who never made it more than halfway up before his wobbly legs sent him back to the ground again.

He saw Miller raging as he fought another one of the four Firbolgs, a big, fat man with a unibrow that put Miller’s nearly Neanderthal-level forehead hair to shame. The caterpillar-browed behemoth was doing his best to fight Miller off with a two-handed broadsword, and it wasn’t going well for him. Miller, in an uncharacteristically-calculated manner, countered each of his opponent’s blows without even bothering to go for a strike. Every time the giant blade came in for a horizontal slash, Miller promptly diverted it toward the ground. Each time the man came in for a vertical, downward attack, Miller dodged it. It was strange, but it was Miller’s version of playing with his food, so to speak, and the grin that was planted across his face belied some as-of-yet-unseen point to his defensive game.

Meanwhile, Ling was firing arrows at the pair of Firbolgs that Amber was fighting on Lee’s right. She wasn’t having a great deal of success since one of them had a large tower shield too, and the other had such high dexterity that he was always able to be where the arrows weren’t. Despite her lack of success, every arrow she fired pushed one back just a little more. Amber was quick--in fact, she was far faster than both Lee and Miller--but she lacked the strength necessary to properly parry and stop attacks. If it weren’t for Ling’s steady fire, Amber likely would have been in trouble, unable to defend herself from both opponents, and he could only imagine what that could mean.

Lee grimaced as the horrid thought ran through his head. No, focus on the fight in front of you. She’ll live longer if we get to her quicker . . . Lee steeled his nerves as he watched the crazy, purple-haired Human try and poke a dagger around his shield. You know what? If he wants to get past me so bad, and I need to end this fight sooner to help Amber, then maybe I should just let him. All I need to do is control how and when he gets past my guard. The goon circled around him once more, and Lee made his decision.

“Miller, I need you to kill that guy off quickly!” Lee shouted, simultaneously sharing his idea with the two rodents circling above. “Amber can’t hold those two off on her own.”

Lee waited a few seconds to make sure the timing was right and then pushed back on his feet as hard as he could, making a little space, and then pulled his shield open to expose his chest. Come on, you bastard. Lee grinned as he watched the fish dive toward the bait. Just as he expected, the man completely lost track of his surroundings as he rushed forward, ready to make quick work of what he thought to be foolish and easy prey. The two mice swooped down onto either side of the man’s head and chomped their teeth into his eyeballs.

Lee closed the gap for his enemy, quickly stabbing him right in the abdomen as he screamed and flung his daggers up to stop the mice. Even with Lee’s sword in his stomach and both of his eyes being chewed at, he still managed to cut one of the mice in half. His dagger jammed into the mouse on his right eye before piercing through its body, killing it nearly instantly and sending a wave of pain through Lee.

You have taken 54 feedback damage through your psychic connection to your Golem.

You have learned the proficiency skill Mental Fortitude. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. This skill improves one’s resistance to psychic-based magic attacks.

You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 123.

“Ahh!” Lee couldn’t help but scream himself as the dagger dug in and his clay creation’s consciousness was forcibly expelled from one of his vessels. The feedback damage was less than twenty percent of his remaining hit points, but the pain that accompanied it made it feel like much more. It felt like someone had taken a dull icepick to his head with enough force to split his brain into two pieces. Nevertheless, the pain didn’t stop him from digging his sword deeper into the man’s stomach, angling it up underneath the man’s rib cage and into his lungs.

The game had a way of rewarding you for striking vital points. If you could stab someone’s heart, slit a throat or stab an eye, the system that determined damage would give you the kill much quicker. So, in this case, a punctured lung would be just as effective as striking someone numerous times. It wouldn’t normally be an instant kill, but with the amount of damage the two rodents had done before one died, it would be enough to guarantee the man a quick death. Lee felt his blade cut through the last remaining layers of flesh as it popped into his intended target, and he quickly withdrew his weapon and backed up a step.

He had never lost a creation before. They had gone through most of his adventures and quests unharmed and unhindered, often striking only at the most opportune moment, and Lee had no idea what to expect now that one of them had been killed. The pain was pulsing through his head like a raging river, and he could feel rage and hatred flowing through the remaining golem with such great intensity that it was hard to put even one or two of his own thoughts together over the emotional noise.

You have killed Slarzar the Spiney. Your party has been awarded 540 Experience. Your share of this 135 Experience.

Ethan, go channel that hatred on Amber’s behalf. Try to kill one of those good-for-nothing scumbags so that she doesn’t have her hands as full . . . Lee closed his eyes and focused, driving out the pain for just a second so that he could send the order. He could see the fight more clearly from the golem’s perspective as the flying clay rodent whipped its head around to take an assessment of the potential targets.

Thankfully, in the dozen or so seconds that he had spent finishing off his own target, Miller had listened to his cry for haste and efficiently disposed of his own. He had cut up the man’s thighs and shins so badly that the corpulent oaf couldn’t even stand up. As if he knew that he was being watched, Miller smiled toward the rodent before executing the now-crawling man by stabbing his spear through the Firbolg’s back.

“Ha!!!” Miller let out a single note of laughter as he pushed the shaft deeper, stilling the bloated Firbolg’s final twitches.

Your party has killed Rotunus. Your party has been awarded 11 silver, 80 copper, a superior-quality steel sword and 585 Experience. Your share of this is 2 silver, 20 copper, and 146 Experience.

“Good,” Lee said to Miller. “Now, come over here and help me hold this guy off so I can--”

“Save your woman? Be the hero? Fine. Deny your paladin the glory that is his! I’ll just have to take solace in knowing that justice has given me the leader of this evil cohort while you double down on heroics!” Miller ripped his spear from his victim’s back and rushed toward the enemy leader at full speed.

The poor guy was clearly the only one in his group who couldn’t handle his alcohol. He had finally stabilized himself and pulled out a spear that was, at a glance, both fancier and larger than Miller’s and had begun to use it as a means to stand up. Lee wanted to dash over and help ensure that the man died before he could enter the fight, but his nervousness about Amber’s situation only grew as he watched her take a slice from one of the Firbolg’s daggers in her lower back.

Crap! He sprinted toward her despite knowing that he wouldn't make it in time to save her from being diced up as the aggressive, dual-wielding Firbolg pressed his advantage.

Lee’s surprisingly-emotional golem summoned up a wellspring of courage and dived headlong toward the man. Ducking and dodging past the shield-carrying Firbolg, the flying mouse swooshed through the battle and slammed headfirst into the dagger-wielding Firbolg’s bright-orange, hair-covered, elephantine right ear. The blow wasn’t really much to write home about. In fact, it was clear that, even with all of his efforts to build up speed and power, the impact still amounted to as much deadly force as a softly-tossed kitten landing gently in a gamer’s lap, but it was more than enough to create a distraction.

The small ball of clay bounced off the right side of the man’s head, causing it to jolt to the left momentarily as the man turned to see what hit him. Since the sword-and-board user was occupied with Ling’s arrows, it offered Amber a small moment’s reprieve. She lunged forward with a hard right punch, blade still in hand, and her clenched fist seemed to glide across the man’s outstretched arms and reached the man’s neck. The weapon she was holding dug into the Firbolg’s jugular, and a stream of blood came pouring out. The sanguine river only doubled in volume as she retracted the blade with a rough slash.

Unwilling to even give the sorry sucker a moment to realize he was wounded, she stabbed forward again. This time, she slammed her left-hand weapon into his chest, creating a sort of handle, and then snaked the dagger in her right hand through the gap in the man’s leather armor around and into his armpit. Rather than pulling out her blade quickly like she had with his throat, she twisted the blade as if she was trying to clean out a glass, but her hands were too big to get the sponge to reach the bottom. It was gruesome, but not nearly as bloody as her first attack.

Your party has killed the Hammond. Your party has been awarded 19 silver, 76 copper, a 1.75 carat emerald of above average quality and 583 Experience. Your share of this is 4 silver, 19 copper, a 1.75 carat emerald of above average quality and 145 Experience.

Lee kept running even though he knew that he was going to arrive too late. As much a relief as the man’s gory demise was, Amber still wasn’t out of the fire just yet. There was still one Firbolg left standing. He was massive in stature and size and yet nimble enough to continuously shift his shield such that the now-porcupine-looking front caught each of Ling’s well-aimed arrows. He even grinned as he blocked one arrow after another as if he was enjoying himself. Lee knew that this type of quick movement probably wouldn't be possible in real life and was likely the product of the system enhancing his speed and coordination, but it was still impressive and mystifying to watch.

“Chase the dog’s tail!” Lee called to Ling as he closed in on him. While Ling hadn’t been particularly social lately, constantly returning to her room or home to take care of things whenever Lee was caught up doing something that involved talking, the two had still been training together a lot. They had even developed a series of codes that were to be used when fighting larger bounty monsters in case something unexpected happened or their plans went awry. ‘Chase the dog’s tail’ was one of those codes.

When Lee slammed his shield into the Firbolg’s, breaking off most of the embedded arrows before he was repelled and sent harmlessly back five feet, Ling strafed around so that she was lined up with the man’s back. While she moved, she kept firing one arrow after another at the man’s left ankle and foot. None of the arrows landed, and the man shifted around in order to dodge the incoming fire, but that was exactly the desired effect: to slow him down. Once Ling was in a position good enough for Lee’s liking, Lee rotated in the opposite direction to the man’s right side. This forced the already-frustrated Firbolg to make a decision: he could face Ling and block the barrage of arrows and take a sword in the back, face Lee and take an arrow in the back or try to escape both of them and somehow maneuver around so that the two returned to his front by backing up. Ling would actually have to move much farther than the Firbolg in order to stay at his backside, so backing was a logical choice given the alternatives, and it wasn’t actually an impossible task if he was quick enough.

Unfortunately for him, he found out that his foot had been blocked by the shaft from one of Ling’s arrows as soon as he took a step, and the Firbolg nearly ended up falling backward. Lee struck during that moment of confusion. The man’s shield reflexively moved to intercept the short sword, but as he turned to block, a series of arrows sank into his back one after the other. Ling’s arrows flew quickly and assuredly that she was able to land three hits in the brief moment he had turned to block Lee, and once his guard was disrupted, the impact was enough to prevent him from turning toward her. A chain of pointy, wooden, doom-sticks struck home until his eyes rolled up, and his knees gave way.

Your party has killed Segorn. Your party has been awarded 23 silver, 20 copper, one reinforced tower shield and 512 Experience. Your share of this is 5 silver, 5 copper, one reinforced tower shield and 128 Experience.

Your party has killed Muschap. Your party has been awarded 4 gold, 1 silver, 58 copper and 544 Experience. Your share of this 1 gold, 27 copper and 136 Experience.

Lee was able to finally relax when he saw the system simultaneously announce the last two deaths. He looked over at Miller and then winced when he saw the enemy leader’s mutilated body being tossed to the ground. His eyes darted over to Amber, wanting to see how she was holding up, only to see her squatted down over the body of her enemy, stabbing away at his chest with her knife. Her face was beaded with sweat, the man’s organs were exposed, and blood was flying everywhere, but the only thing he felt was a deep sadness--a sentiment shared by Ethan as he landed on Lee’s shoulder.

Lee glanced over at his remaining companion. Still worried about her, even after losing your other half? The tiny golem’s reactions were sometimes so perfect that Lee believed it could understand and speak his language perfectly, but at other times, it just stared at him blankly as if it never processed anything he said or did. Essentially, his mouse golem’s personality had turned out to be a weird hybrid between those of a cat and dog. Fine, I’ll help you out even if you don’t thank me. Lee leaned down and picked up some clay. It took him a few moments, but he activated his skill and gave his new creation life.

Your mastery of Golem Sculpting has progressed from the rank of Novice Level 9 to the rank of Novice Level 10. Golem Sculpting now allows for the sculpting of two golems. Current Combat Bonus: 165.32%. Golems created by Golem Sculpting may now take up an additional 5% more space. Current Max Space: 5.56 fluid ounces.

There we go. Good as new, Lee thought to his mouse. He knew that Ethan wasn’t the same though. Despite its rage at the people attacking Amber, the mouse now had an ingrained fear of danger after its duplicate’s demise that was even stronger than before. Lee had felt his golem’s death as vividly as if it were his own, and that sudden amputation of an extension of his own consciousness was a wound he would remember as well.

“Woah, so that’s the process,” Ling gasped as she walked over and studied the newly-created mouse, firing off a series of questions that Lee didn’t know the answer to. “That is incredibly neat. The light that comes out of you . . . Is it always the same color? That’s the same color as when you heal us. If you used other magic, would it be the same then too?” Unfortunately, since Lee was a Herald and the supposed son of a god, he was expected to know the answers to each of her seemingly-random questions. He knew that they were rooted in the fact that she was just now discovering the world around her after living her entire life as a mindless, prompt-following NPC, but that didn’t make them any less silly or absurd at times. Whenever he tried answering ‘I don’t know,’ she just pestered him to ask Augustus, a figure who was rarely if ever present to respond.

“I’m sure time will answer that question for you,” Lee responded, brushing off her curiosity without giving a straight answer--which was really the only way to handle Ling’s inquisitiveness.

“But can’t you--” she pushed, momentarily causing Lee to panic as he realized that his tried and true trick from the last week might not be enough until Amber came over and cut her off mid-sentence.

“I think between the magic and the fight, he is just a little drained, darling,” Amber added hastily as she interceded, passing Lee a knowing smile as she did.

That woman knows me better than I do sometimes, he thought as he admired the sight of her lips hooking upward into a lopsided grin.

“That’s not it at all,” Miller proclaimed boisterously, shaking his head as he walked over to the impromptu huddle. “Our Herald is trying to teach the importance of paying attention and not just taking answers as they are given to you. Have you not read any of the great Book of Lee? Even as our Herald, the deity of our order and the divine beacon of our faith, he is not to be the source of all our answers. He is not telling you that he won’t give you the answer but to use your senses and wit to derive it so that you don’t become dependent on others for your knowledge. It’s as the book says in the earlier chapters: taking information for granted without investigating or thinking or questioning on your own and giving up your skepticism is the way in which a people can be easily--”

Lee quickly took a step forward and put a hand on the giant man’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’ve read it, Miller, so it’s probably old news. But what’s new news is what just happened there.” Lee motioned over to the first man Miller killed. “Amber was in dire straits. Why did you take your time on that one?”

“I had to challenge myself, to learn and to test what I could do. I had to study him because”--Miller looked at the Firbolg’s body--“because my justice was too weak.”

“Huh? Because what?” Lee had heard the words through Ethan’s ears and not his own because they had been spoken too softly for him to pick up. He actually felt bad for calling out Miller like this. His Firbolg companion had saved his life dozens of times in the last week, but the fact still stood that Amber might have died because Miller had been toying around with his opponent.

Miller clenched his spear tightly and said, “Because nothing. There is no excuse. Justice should be swift, crushing and unapologetic. I won’t allow hesitation or personal feelings to get in the way of battle again.”

“I’m still curious about what’s going on with these five. Isn’t it illegal to steal the bounty from another group? I’ve never heard of this happening before,” Ling said, crouching down next to one of the bodies. “Even the lowest of the low in Satterfield never once tried to cheat another party out of their bounty from the Hunter’s Guild. That’s like a death sentence there. If even one person reports it, and it’s investigated and confirmed, then the guilty party is almost always guaranteed to be tracked down and assassinated.”

“Yeah, that is a bit weird,” Amber agreed.

Miller and Lee, both foreigners to the world, shared a glance with each other before looking back toward the body that Amber was poking at and Ling was hovering over. He didn’t understand how Miller knew he wasn’t from this world at all to begin with, since Miller never actually referred to him as a player, only a Herald, but he did. It was clear from the way he talked to Lee, how he would slip and talk about the metagame by accident more often than one ever should with an NPC, what his view was.

“Did they say anything to you during the fight?” Lee asked, looking over at Amber. “Or maybe to you?” Lee asked Miller this time.

Amber shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Same. He just said some stuff about, well . . .” Miller, in a very un-Miller-like way, trailed off and shifted around the truth, leaving it unsaid. It was obvious from his facial expression that he was hiding something and that he wasn’t skilled at deception.

“Well?” Lee pushed, hoping it would yield something fruitful.

“Nothing important is all. He was just trying to speak the usual words of a villain,” Miller grumbled. “They’re all the same: the self-righteous, pretending as if they’re divine, yet all the while hurting and ruining the lives of those around them.”

Easy, buddy. That could describe us if you don’t word that more carefully. Lee cringed at the response. The reason he was in a four-man party right now, even though there were over thirty able-bodied men and women who were training every day and willing to join them on their hunts, was because he didn’t want to get someone hurt because of his actions--but that didn’t mean that someone hadn’t suffered on his account. It had been around six weeks since the events of his first trip to this world, and he still saw the faces of David and those who had died trying to help him when he closed his eyes at night. They haunted him any time he tried to sleep, so when Miller talked about self-righteous people thinking they’re divine and ruining the lives of those around them, the words drove into Lee like a two-inch spike through the chest.

“Should we . . . umm . . . report this?” Amber asked, pulling her knife out and beginning to saw off the head of the dead man. “I mean, if we don’t, what if they think we’re the ones that sniped the bounty? The Hunter’s Office says to report any issue, not just issues still existing.”

“That’s a good point,” Lee agreed. He hadn’t dealt with the Hunter’s Office as long as the natives of this world had, so he could only nod and pretend that he knew what she was talking about, but he knew that they meant business. He had heard plenty of stories during his short jaunts through other towns. Players broke the rules, and the whole party was killed in their sleep as a result. “Do we need their heads though?”

“Yeah,” Amber replied as she continued to saw through the man’s bone with her steel dagger. “They might have a bounty on them. If they’re so brazen as to go around trying to snipe our monster hunter bounties, someone might be wanting them dead.”

“Or they may be very important people,” Lee thought aloud. In his world, people who acted however they wanted usually did so because they had the money to do whatever they wanted--like celebrities that could commit a dozen felonies and end up with less than twenty hours of community service and little more than a slap on the wrist and a word of warning. “Toting these heads around looking for a bounty . . .” Lee trailed off, watching how zealous Amber was in disfiguring the man’s neck.

Amber was slowly becoming more and more aggressive as she came out of her shell. Despite her efforts during the assault on the Herald of the God of Books and Stories’ fort, she had generally been somewhat reluctant to jump a into violent confrontation. She had been one of the primary voices demanding reason when Miller wanted to storm in and stick a sword into everyone’s gut and be done with it. She had been the first and last person to stand up for the townsfolk and insist upon the value of their lives when Miller accused them of ‘ruining his mood’ with their hesitation

Now, however, she was slowly beginning to change. It was somewhat inevitable since her days as a prisoner and a sufferer of violence were slowly becoming more and more distant, and it was most readily apparent in the way she tackled her role during fights now. As long as Lee’s group was the one initiating the attack, she was calm and collected. She would keep her head down, stay in her lane, and get the job done without a second word or any fuss. Whenever things went wrong, or whenever they ran across a group of thugs who had sought them out, however, she’d quickly lose her temper and fly off the handle. It was when she wasn’t in control that things started to get out of hand. She hadn’t gone as far as Miller yet--that was to say she hadn’t gouged out a man’s eyes, removed his collarbones, or gutted someone yet with quite the same zealous fervor that the Firbolg would--but she was slowly pushing the boundary between necessity and brutality. When one or two stabs would do the job, for example, thirty or forty seemed to do it better, and she considered that perfectly reasonable.

The thing that worried Lee the most was that she would be sobbing the entire time. Lee thought that it was like some part of her knew she was acting out as a result of her time being imprisoned and equated that loss of control to the time she had spent enslaved. She knew that what she was doing was awful, but she couldn’t stop herself either. It was hard to watch, and no one was brave enough to say or do anything about it. Lee figured that he knew--as much as a bystander could--what she was going through. He knew that she was torn up because of it, but he didn’t know how to help her. The group would simply finish up with whatever they were doing and then step out of the way, wait and watch. Something about what was happening to her echoed against something hollow inside of him--something that he couldn’t put his finger on and didn’t want to deal with himself.

“Yes?” Ling asked, pulling Lee back to the conversation.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. “Toting the heads around could bring more trouble than the bounty is worth. I know that we’re desperately short on money at the moment and need to hire more people, but is it worth taking that risk?”

“He did use the words ‘your kind’ a lot,” Ling mused, ignoring Lee’s concern. “Like he wasn’t the same sort of adventurer we were. That type of pompous talking could definitely be someone from a wealthy family.”

“Hmm . . .” Lee tried to recall the conversation. It had been blocked out by the fact that Miller had acted like he was going to kill everyone on the spot no more than three sentences in. No, that’s not right. This one wasn’t all on Miller. They threatened my people. Miller didn’t push me. I did this because I wanted them dead. The more he thought about it, the more he was not only glad he killed them but kind of wished that he had taken the time to kill each one of them individually, especially their leader. Maybe Amber’s right. Maybe their bodies need to be desecrated, Lee thought as he pulled out a knife and went to the one who made the threats. “I guess that we might as well carry them all if we’re going to carry one head for a bounty.”

“I’d really rather not,” Ling protested. “I think . . . I think I’ll leave that to you three.”

“And if we get a reward?”

“I’ll expect you to buy me and my dad some fried chicken with it, of course.” Ling grinned for half a second, but as soon as her eyes made contact with the sight of Lee roughly hacking the dead man’s head off, she grimaced and turned away.

Out of all the things you’ve seen, this is what grosses you out? Lee just shook his head and kept working. “Doesn’t our church own the largest chicken vendor in Satterfield? Pretty sure we’re taking over the entire town with sales of just chicken and fries.”

“Yeah, but it’s always running out. I feel bad taking from the kitchen when the wait can be nearly thirty minutes at dinner time,” Ling said, tilting her head and watching Amber with a strange expression.

“So, you’re saying you want to save us effort and money and help the church by spending our hard-earned loot on other people’s inferior chicken?” Lee gave her a quizzical look. How does that even make sense?

“She could just be trying to help businesses out. After all, does not the good Book of Lee say--”

Lee cut Miller off right away by saying, “I know what the good book says.”

Ever since Lee had brought back his book, Miller would continuously quote it at him like it was the end of all arguments and Lee had never read it. In less than three days, Miller had transformed from going around spouting ‘Justice, Justice, Justice!’ to quoting ‘The Book of Lee’ whenever he could in an argument. If Lee hadn’t known Miller before he started reading the Book of Lee, he’d have thought that Miller was some sort of philosophy professor who specialized in religious text.

“But helping people aside, I’d still rather cook for you myself than pay someone else to do it for me,” Lee said.

“Well, then, if you insist on being so sweet and hand making my dinners . . .” Ling paused, putting a finger to her lips as she contemplated something. “Then buy the ingredients and make me something I’ve never tried before. Otherwise, I’m going to take all of my reward money and spend it at Bankey’s hole in the wall food joint on those vegetables you seem to hate with such a passion.”

“Fine, fine. If I can find the right ingredients, I’ll make you something new,” Lee conceded. Truth be told, it was what he wanted to do anyway. He desperately needed to raise his cooking skill if he was going to ever unroll the next part of his plan.

“Well, I’m done here,” Miller announced, holding up two freshly-severed heads. “I can’t wait to see how much fried chicken and beer these bounties might get me.”

“There might not necessarily be a bounty,” Ling reminded him. “You guys might just show up at the town looking like a pack of murder-happy vagabonds for nothing.”

“Vagabonds? What vagabonds look as sharp as we do?” Amber asked as she finished wrapping the head in a green cloth. “I don’t care what you say about us looking bad, I think the uniforms Lee assigned us look great.”

“I like them too,” Miller agreed, tugging on his chest armor with his free arm. He didn’t seem to care at all about tidiness and easily gripped the two heads by their hair. The whole group was dressed in camouflage. It wasn’t proper camo, as he had no idea how to get that effect without the Book of Augustus’ help, and he didn’t have a tailoring level, so applying dyes through the book even with his Intelligence was currently not possible. He had considered devoting some effort to making clothes at first but then decided that he didn’t feel like spending a ton of time picking up a variety of skills that would each require large segments of his time, especially considering how each progressive tier of the skills he was focusing on had so far yielded exponentially better rewards. It made much more sense to focus on just one or two crafts and one fighting style and max them out as quickly as possible.

“Well, we’ll find out when we get there,” Lee said, giving his usual shrug as he started heading toward town.

“Wait!” Miller said, stopping him.

“What’s up?” Lee asked.

“You think we could take the long way back? I used my resources to map us out a route that should take us through a dozen Dire Troll camps.” Miller pointed off in a direction that was far to the left of the town. “Won’t add more than three hours to our trip.”

Lee thought about it for a moment then looked up at the sun to confirm the time. “Yeah, that’s good thinking,” he said. That’s good . . . thinking. He mentally said the words again, pausing at the word thinking. Something about the way Miller asked, the way he worded things, felt off to Lee. It didn’t sit well with him. Is it just because it was out of character? he wondered as he stared at his bloodthirsty companion.

Chapter 2

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 17

Health: 270/270

EXP: 6200/10500

Primary Stats:

Power 27 (28)

Toughness 27 (28)

Spirit 27 (28)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 14

Intelligence 123 (129)

Honor 5

Faith 622

Personal Faith 213

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Novice Level 9

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Novice Level 10

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Unlike Satterfield, which was basically a small, close-knit hamlet comprised of thatch-roofed stone buildings, Kirshtein was actually large enough to contain the seas of people that swelled through its gates every morning and night. The buildings were constructed from red brick and capped with dark-grey slate roofs, and they sprouted up as if they were trees competing for sunlight in a forest, towering unevenly between three and six stories tall and casting shade on narrow alleyways that slithered and crooked like tiny streams between them. The main roads were also much larger than Satterfield's, and they were easily able to contain the multitudes of people and carriages with ease, one only ever rarely bumping into the other as they diffused into the heart of the town.

Lee couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable as he walked back into the city with his friends. The malaise stemmed from how chaotic the place was. Between the size of the city and the uneven layout, it was hard to keep track of where he was mentally in relation to everything else. He had constantly gotten lost as he tried to find his way around on his first visit, and he had even gone so far as to pay a beggar to show him around. He had done his best to take note of landmarks that would help him find his way back again if needed, but it was still a challenge to find his way from one side of the city to the next.

The second source of his problem was from the hundreds of people all around him. They were tightly pressed together in the streets, passing him constantly, and he had a nagging fear that someone working for one of the other Heralds might take advantage of the crowds and stab him in the back, ending his budding religion as quickly as it had started. There was no way to defend against it or predict where it might come from. Each and every passerby was suspect, and even with his golems’ help, he still couldn’t keep an eye on every person within stabbing distance at the same time.

Finally, he was stressed out because he hadn’t been back to Satterfield since yesterday morning, and he had an itch in the back of his mind telling him that he needed to check in on his congregation. The entire town had quickly morphed into the de-facto capital of his Church of Bacon and Booze, as he jokingly thought of it, and after the first restaurant-maintenance-fiasco, he didn’t trust the others to handle things. His flock might be great at pounding back beers and spreading the merriment of the order, but without Lee’s cooking ability, they couldn’t produce the fried chicken that had become their staple fast enough to keep up with demand. Like an idiot, Lee had bought the two places adjacent to Ramon’s tavern and morphed them into a single large ‘church’ that held way more people than the kitchen or the staff could ever hope to handle. Despite his experience in restaurants and his cooking skill, he felt like he was constantly behind. The whole experience brought back repressed memories from his days working in the service industry that he would rather not remember at all.

“You know you do have enough faith to go back a few times,” Augustus, the god who had first sent him to this world, reminded him.

It didn’t help his mood any that he was constantly being watched by a drunken god who preferred the guise of a primate rather than that of his own skin and spied on him like the paparazzi over a reality TV star. To make matters worse, Augustus seemed to have an innate ability to always know what Lee was thinking. “Oh, don’t look constipated! I’m just trying to be helpful. I don’t know if it’s appropriate or ironic that you take life way too seriously as the Herald of Alcohol. You really just need to get a few drinks in you, get laid and relax. This game isn’t going to end anytime soon, so you better learn to enjoy the breaks you get.”

Lee assumed that Augustus meant well, but it was hard to take him seriously. The god was sometimes bitter, abusive and insulting, and he often lashed out at Lee for any little perceived shortcoming. Even when he did decide to provide Lee with some form of advice or information, it was often mocking, degrading and biting--sort of like this mild pestering that Lee was experiencing at the moment--but Augustus could be sincere and charming on occasion too. His random personality swings made it impossible for Lee to ever predict which side of Augustus he was going to see.

“What would I even do if I went back?” Lee asked.

“I don’t know. Learn a few skills like you did before? Maybe finally bang that Russian chick who was following you around with that dopey grin and puppy-dog eyes?”

Lee involuntarily recoiled at the suggestion. He wasn’t disgusted at the idea of sex, per se, he was just annoyed at Augustus for trying to push him into doing it. “I don’t need to hook up with a random chick.”

“Fine! Don’t have sex! Just go ahead and play the part of the Japanese main character in almost every anime and build up a harem of women that you never make it past first base with!” Augustus laughed so loudly that his voice echoed through Lee’s head.

“I’m not doing that. And my life is not some cartoon!” Lee protested, but Augustus’s laughter only grew greater.

“Sure, sure. You’ve literally had a girl sleep in your bed every night since you got back to this world, and you have yet to even grab some--”

“Will you stop it!” Lee shouted, cutting off Augustus. “I don’t need any relationship advice from my sometimes-literal-dog-of-an-ancestor. I’m doing fine.”

“Doing fine? Is that what you call it? You’re leveling up like a regular player without taking advantage of your status as a Herald at all, and you’re still using that crutch I gave you to get anything of meaning done with your power,” Augustus chided, his discontent evident in his tone. “Come on! Let’s go back to the other world for a while. Heck, if you want to think of me as a dog, I’ll shapeshift into one and help you pick up girls. Girls love dogs, right?”

“What crutch? What do you mean?” Lee asked, still focused on the discussion of powers.

“That? Well, I can’t spell things out. That’s cheating. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight. I’m sure you’ll be begging me to help out once the sun sets . . . to get you to a nice beach where you can eat, drink, spend time with women, drink some more and do crazy things like any descendant of mine would if his intelligence weren’t zero! Because right now”--he paused to chuckle--“this is just sad to watch.”

Lee frowned. Augustus was quick to mock Lee’s intelligence any time he didn’t immediately comply with the god’s wishes--apparently even when Lee refused to risk making a woman like Amber, who had likely gone through hell when she had been a slave, relive old wounds by being in any way pushy or forward.

“Just keep your offer. I’m not going to need it tonight,” Lee answered with some hesitation. He made sure to emphasize the word ‘tonight’ since he might actually need to take it up soon. Even if he was annoyed at Augustus for pressuring him into behaving in a way that he didn’t feel was natural or for mocking his life decisions, the idea itself wasn’t a bad one. More time in own world meant another opportunity to acquire more knowledge and the chance to refine the skills he already had. In turn, that meant more power and an increased chance of surviving in this world. After his last visit, it had become clear to him that the time he spent in each world benefited his time in the other. And, as reluctant as he was to admit it to Augustus, he did like the looks of Masha, the Russian girl Augustus kept referring to.

Augustus’ annoying laughter cascaded in the back of Lee’s head. “See you tonight!” he finished, and then the laughter disappeared instantly.

Well, that’s not creepy at all. The edges of Lee’s mouth pulled downward as if they were caught on fishing hooks and yanked toward the ground with enough force to pull the Loch Ness monster.

“Something wrong?” Miller asked, putting a hand on Lee’s shoulder.

“No, just”--Lee looked around--“just feeling uneasy.”

“A beer,” Miller answered resolutely. “You need a beer.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry, boss. I’ve got you covered.” Miller grinned as he pulled out one of his spears, ignoring the fact they were in the middle of the street in a large city that frowned upon the use or arming of weapons within its walls in any way.

People turned in alarm, and Lee’s eyes opened wider as he realized what was about to happen. It was like watching a car wreck in slow motion as the jolly giant lifted the spear and slammed its butt down onto the ground, letting out his Drunken Shout onto Lee and every single innocent bystander around them at the same time. Lee was used to the experience, so he wasn’t too horribly affected, but as he turned and looked around, he grimaced at the horror of what happened around him. The blast of inebriation slammed into the unsuspecting populace like an alcoholic hotbox, leaving everyone except for Lee and his group teetering back and forth in an alcoholic stupor and struggling to stay upright. He watched as two horses which had been pulling a sort of two-wheeled carriage just stopped and lay down, their weight heavy enough to tilt the carriage forward on its single axle. A clear thump from inside the cab let Lee know that the likely-sloshed passengers had roughly crashed to the front end of the carriage. Even worse, a group of children who had been playing nearby started spinning in circles and grabbing onto one another for support in a rather funny, cute, childish yet alarming sort of way.

Holy crap, Miller! You didn’t just get everyone here drunk: you managed to get a classroom’s worth of children intoxicated! What the heck is wrong with you? Lee was caught between his desire to laugh and his frustration with the oaf’s inability to sense basic propriety. You don’t get children drunk! He wanted to shout the admonition, but he refrained for now. He knew that he would have to lecture his Firbolg companion later on the basics of social acceptability and decorum, but this wasn’t the time or place for it.

“We have to get out of here. Now,” Lee said urgently, hurriedly grabbing Amber’s hand and pulling her through the crowd. He glanced back to make sure that Miller and Ling were following him and then ducked into an alleyway as quickly as possible.

“Where are we going in such a rush?” Miller asked, beaming with pride.

Someone covered in that much blood and carrying around severed heads shouldn’t look that happy. It’s more unnerving than listening to Augustus talk about sex. “We’re going to turn in the bounties and these heads,” Lee answered, coming up with the first excuse he could. “I just figured we should do it as soon as possible so we can get to the bar quicker and make sure we have a place to crash tonight.”

Miller paused, his expression deflating before his grin returned. “That’s right! Great idea! You’re always using that head of yours, Lee!” His own massive noggin bobbed up and down in acknowledgment. He paused, and something crossed his face that looked like he was either thinking or trying to push out a fart. “I bet that, if we knock out the stupid money chores early, we can try to tackle at least thirty different beers each. I hear this town has beers shipped in from across the entire region!” Miller wiped the drool from his mouth when he finished speaking. It was evident exactly how eager he was for beer.

Lee frowned. What the heck? I like beer as much as the next guy, but that would leave me looking more irresponsible than a group of barely-employed adults skipping work to hang out at an overpriced cafe in the middle of New York.

“That, on top of the cost of the inn for the night, would cost us over half of what we’ve earned today.”

“Oh, that’s right . . .” Miller groaned, his goofy grin drooping until it matched Lee’s frown. “We have to pay street price for the beers here. That’s just not right. Aren’t you the son of the God of Alcohol? Shouldn’t you be able to turn water into ale or something?”

“I could try, but things didn’t turn out well for the last guy who turned water into alcohol,” Lee chuckled. “He ended up never being able to drive home.”

“Why?” Miller asked as all three of Lee’s companions looked at him in confusion. “Did he get the horse too drunk to steer the carriage? Is that even a big deal though? Couldn’t he just walk?”

Drunken horse? Oh, God . . . Even though Lee had just seen real-life equine inebriation only moments earlier, the mental image still made him laugh. He shouldn't have--it probably counted as animal cruelty to some groups back home--but the thought of all the antics a drunk horse might get up to was still amusing. After his little laugh, he noticed the bewildered expression on Miller’s face and said, “He couldn’t drive because . . . Well, I guess he did walk everywhere, but . . . Just . . . You know, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, forget him then. Here.” Miller passed Lee a waterskin. “Try changing this into beer. As the son of a deity, you can do anything. I have absolute faith in you.”

Lee did his best to think of how he would approach such a feat. He used magic whenever he healed someone, which was fairly often, and he used it when making clay into a golem, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with the process. He pulled some of his spirit and funneled it into the waterskin. He thought of beer while circulating the mana through the water, and after a minute or so, he knew that something had changed. He couldn't tell exactly what had happened, but he knew that some of his mana was missing, so he stopped and opened the waterskin and poured a drop of it into the palm of his hand to inspect it.

“What is it?” Ling asked, inspecting the dark-violet-colored liquid. The small drop glowed visibly in the palm of his hand, letting off a small amount of amethyst-tinted light. It clearly wasn’t beer, but it definitely wasn’t water either.

“I don’t know,” Lee answered. “It looks . . . weird.”

“You don’t know? You made it!” Amber grabbed his hand and flattened it out so the bead of purple water was even more prominent.

Well, if it’s anything like video game logic, then blue is for mana potions, red is for health potions, and purple is for . . . Lee didn’t have time to finish his thoughts on the matter before Miller stuck out his finger and did his best to scoop it up.

“Oh, that tastes delicious,” Miller said as he popped the drop of water in his mouth. “But it’s not alcoholic.”

“Here, let me try.” Ling grabbed the waterskin out of Lee’s hands with such dexterity that it made Lee question whether she was an archer or a thief. “Wow, that’s amazing!” Ling exclaimed with an extremely satisfied look on her face. “But . . .” She paused, took out a knife, and made a small cut on her arm before proceeding to drink some more. After a few sips, the cut on her arm healed up.

They all watched in awe and disbelief as the skin butterflied across the wound and the red line vanished, leaving behind only the drops of blood that had already escaped onto her pale skin.

“Drinking it made me feel just like I do when you heal me,” Ling explained. “It felt warm and nice, so I thought it might have the same effect.”

That’s right! Blue is mana, red is healing, and purple is both! Lee took back the flask and downed a large swig of it himself. Although it wasn’t even close to being as much as had gone into making the purple water, some of his mana actually was restored. It figures that a world based on video game mechanics would follow the standard video game rules. Isn’t that right, system?

It’s more appropriate to say that all video games follow the principles that this world does than to say this world follows the principles of your video game worlds. Blood is the source of life, and so that which restores life naturally would often appear red. Water nourishes the spirit, and so that which heals one’s spirit will carry its color, blue. The two colors combined are purple. Your video games have copied life, and this system is the basis of life. Therefore, the egg, in this case, came after the chicken, as your expression goes.

Lee wasn’t expecting it, but the system actually responded, and it answered in what felt like a somewhat-defensive manner. System, you don’t actually have a personality, do you? he asked hesitantly, remembering how all its previous answers were straight to the point and devoid of excess.

Amber tried the elixir next, and the same happy, satisfied expression that Ling had spread across her face. Only Miller appeared to be dissatisfied, staring at the waterskin with his distaste evident on his face. “It’s nice, but it’s still not beer,” he grumbled.

“Well, just because this isn’t beer, it doesn’t mean that I can’t make beer at all. I think . . . Hold on, there’s a store over there across the street. Let’s see if they sell some supplies I need,” Lee said, having managed to find a grocery store after only looking around for a second. If there was one aspect to this town that he found admirable, it was that there were restaurants and grocery stores everywhere. If there was an area large enough for stands, there were farmers or merchants trying to pawn off produce and merchandise.

“What? It might still be possible?” Miller called out as Lee dashed to the store.

Within a few minutes, Lee had the full kit of ingredients needed to make beer. The shopkeeper only sold by the barrel or box and not by individual units, but that wasn’t a problem since Lee’s strength was nearly three times that of a normal man’s back home--which was easily enough to hold a cart full of groceries without feeling any strain. The problem was stacking and balancing the containers and trying to maneuver around the store awkwardly without dropping anything. Despite being focused on the goods he was gathering up, he couldn't help but notice a strange man in all black staring at him. The tall, blue-haired man was flanked by two armed guards and spent his time talking with the grocer as Lee navigated through the store like a circus performer trying to balance ten spinning plates.

“A brewer, are you?” the man asked, studying Lee through squinted eyes.

“No, not really.” Lee shrugged and then mentally kicked himself for shrugging in front of a stranger who clearly looked like he was in a position of power. It was a bad habit he had built up as a way of deflecting direct answers, and it was one that needed to go if he were going to pass himself off as the enlightened, know-it-all prophet type. Avoiding direct answers was fitting enough but shrugging like an ignorant chump certainly wasn’t.

“Then what are all these supplies for? It appears as if you have all the necessary ingredients for brewing beer,” the man observed, looking over the boxes that Lee was balancing.

“A friend wanted me to try something. That’s all,” Lee answered before turning his attention back to the grocer. “So how much for all of this?”

The grocer smiled as he started counting the boxes.

“Haikai, just take an inventory and let me know what our good Human brother bought later. I’ll pay for it myself,” the man said, examining Lee once more.

“That’s not necessary.” Lee declined with a shake of his head. He knew better than to take free things from a stranger. “I’ve got it.”

“No, I insist. Please, allow me to take care of this,” the man repeated, giving a soft smile that didn’t match his inquisitive glare at all.

“But . . .” Lee’s protest trailed off and died out.

“If he says he’s paying, I ain’t taking your money,” the grocer said. “Just treat it as on the house, and have a good day.”

“Well, thank you. Thank you very much,” Lee replied, finally relenting uneasily.

“Don’t mention it. I’m Connacht,” he said with a tiny, polite nod of his head. “Consider this a greeting gift from one of us to another.” The way he said ‘one of us to another’ threw Lee for a loop, but he didn’t waste any time thinking about it. He still needed to get back to the group.

“Well, I’m Lee. It’s been a pleasure,” Lee said bowing his head to match the other man’s gesture.

“Nice to meet you, Lee. I hope your day is fruitful,” the man said and then went back to talking to the grocer about an order.

Lee glowered at the boxes and felt the man’s eyes follow him as he left. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the whole situation seemed off--and dangerous. What in the heck was that? Don’t tell me rich people in this town are actually that charitable. Why was he being so nice?

Lee made his way back over to his group, who were waiting at the mouth of the alley across the street from the store. He noticed a strange look on Amber’s face as he walked up to them.

“Should you really be buying food with the head of a Firbolg strapped to your side?” Amber asked. “Not worried about that contaminating anything?”

Lee wanted to facepalm. Crap. I’ve been walking around with it for so long that I forgot it was even there. “Well, no need to fret about it now. Here, take it off of me. I need to handle this stuff.”

“Sure,” she said, unfastening it from his waist as Lee started unpacking the boxes.

Pulling everything out and setting up his operation in the narrow alley left things pretty cramped, but it kept his wares and activities away from the foot traffic on the side of the street. The last thing Lee needed was a careless passerby accidentally tripping over his impromptu brewery.

“What are you going to do with all of that stuff?” Miller asked.

“You’ll see,” Lee answered cryptically. “Do you have any bottles of water on you?”

Miller shook his head. “That skin was the only water I carry. You know, the ‘in case of emergency’ water.”

“I have some,” Ling offered, pulling out a container. It wasn’t much, just forty-eight ounces and not nearly enough for what he had in mind.

“No, we need more. Hold on.” Lee ran about a hundred feet down the block to a different shop he had spotted. There he bought a few extra bottles of water--figuring he’d want to further practice using his spirit to make restorative beverages later on--along with two wooden barrels, which he filled with water before returning to the alleyway. He could have gone back to the first grocery, but he wasn’t exactly keen on running into the generous man again. Generosity in a world filled with murder wasn’t something that he was keen on trusting. In this land, everyone with power had ambitions, and those ambitions very well might leave Lee dead in a ditch if he wasn’t careful and got too close to them.

Arriving back at the alley once again, Lee set the barrels down and quickly freed up his hands by practically tossing the water bottles at Ling in a rushed hand-off. He eagerly continued setting things up for his new project without even bothering to explain what he was doing to the rest of the group.

“Okay, so now what?” Miller asked.

“I think he’s going to make us beer,” Ling said, looking over the ingredients.

“Yes! That’s the hope,” Lee affirmed. “Let me give this a try.” With that, he put the ingredients on top of the two barrels and then channeled his magic in the same way that he had before. He concentrated on the process of how beer was made as he did it and watched as the ingredients were ripped into a mist by his spirit. Then, after turning into an ethereal cloud, they passed through the wooden walls of the barrels and bound with the water. Even though he couldn't see it happen, he felt it as his mana instantly carried out the entire brewing process.

You have learned the divine skill Nectar of the Gods. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. This skill allows one to transform mundane ingredients into tipple fit for the gods!

You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 125

Recipe Learned: Augustusfest Beer #001

Effects: Unknown.

For fully mastering a new recipe, you have gained 2 Intelligence. Your current Intelligence: 127

He popped open the top of the now-full water barrels, and sure enough, there was beautiful, bubbly beer inside.

“Holy sweet mother of delicious-looking amber nectar!” Miller exclaimed as he quickly pulled out an empty mug and dipped it into the container.

“HEY!” Amber acted indignant at the mention of her name, even if Miller had only meant the color.

Miller held up the mug, staring at it lovingly.

“Well?” Lee asked.

“Well, what? You should have a mug on you and at least two for the ladies. Do you think I’m going to be the first to try out this religious holy water by myself? No! We must all share in its greatness. This is beer that Augustus himself has deigned to bestow upon us. How dare a mere mortal like me take honor away from the deity that has blessed us by greedily drinking it before another? Before the son of that same god himself?”

You weren’t that righteous about it a moment ago when you just smashed your finger into my palm. Lee shook his head as he pulled out three mugs, filled them and passed one each to Ling and then Amber. “The location isn’t going to bother you too?” Lee asked, musing over their choice to stop and start drinking on a narrow back alley.

“Not if it doesn’t bother you,” Miller said, holding out his drink.

“Welp, here we go,” Lee said. And here’s hoping I didn’t make a batch of poison that will kill us all. Lee clinked his mug to the other three before the four of them quickly downed the drinks.

This . . . Lee thought for a moment. This is amazing. This is better than any beer I’ve ever tasted! Apart from enjoying the delicious flavor of the brew, Lee could also feel the status effects of the drink wash over him.

Augustusfest Beer #001 has temporarily increased your Power by 1 and your Charisma by 2.

“This is indeed a beverage of the gods!” Miller proclaimed. “As to be expected from the Herald that brought us the divine gifts of fried chicken and bacon!

“I’m going to agree with Miller: this is definitely a beverage of the gods. Did Augustus teach you how to make this?”

“And you did it without a crutch,” a voice snickered in Lee’s head.

“Alright, Miller, you wanna hold onto these beers while we go turn in the bounties?” Lee asked.

“No problem,” Miller said. He pounded the top back onto the barrel to seal it up before hoisting it and the unopened one above his shoulders. “The sooner I get this beer in my belly, the better! It would be an absolute injustice to not make sure these barrels are empty by the first crack of light tomorrow.”

And this is why you’re not a much higher level than I am. Lee just shook his head. It was understandable that Lee had needed to forego a lot of leveling since he had spent a lot of downtime setting up the church, passing out the pamphlets and books and making sure that operations on the restaurant side were running smoothly, but there wasn’t a good reason for Miller to not be leveling. Sure, Lee felt safer knowing his stalwart companion was nearby at any given moment, but he didn’t understand why Miller spent so much time drinking and not gaining experience--especially considering killing things in a brutal fashion was basically his modus operandi at this point.

“We could also try selling it,” Amber suggested. “I know we need more money for the restaurant’s expansion and to hire and train more staff. These barrels might be a quick way to make some.”

“That’s . . . not a bad idea. But let’s see how well these two sell first.” Lee smiled at Amber and gave her hand a squeeze.

Miller shook his head vehemently at the idea.

“Sell them? What? That’s nonsense. If you insist on selling these precious beverages, then let me borrow some money so I can buy them.”

Lee, Ling and Amber all just stared at him. You’ve got to be kidding me. “Yeah. No. We’ll get you more when we run out, big guy.”

“But how can you be sure it’ll taste this good? This delicious ale is divine! Can we really risk pawning it off? Just let me borrow some money. We can make some more barrels and sell those instead,” Miller insisted.

“Are you saying that you don’t trust that I can make another? Do you have no faith in me as a Herald?” Lee asked pointedly, taking advantage of Miller’s naive religious fervor.

“What? No. Not at all. I would never doubt you as a Herald!” Miller responded, quickly trying to dodge the charges as they started walking. “I’m just . . . No, you’re right. If we can sell these, then fine. We’ll use the money to buy enough materials to make twenty more of them!”

Well, that was a quick change of tune, Lee chortled as they made their way out of the alley.

The Hunter’s Guild that they arrived at shortly after was itself a mix between a tavern, an inn, a bar, a mall and a classroom. It was hard to describe exactly how all of those factors came into play, but they did. Unlike every other building on the block, it was solid wood, wider than it was tall, and only went up three stories. The entrance was a wide-open space that let people easily move in and out, as even the door to the Hunter’s Guild itself was large enough to accommodate even the most obnoxiously-large pickup truck a man could buy without a problem.

The right side of the building was comprised of shops filled with people who bought and sold everything from fishing knives to full plate armor and even custom writing kits designed for the adventurer on the go who still wanted to send a letter home, and each shop was just as large as the full-sized stores outside. Next to those were rows of tables where people sat and listened to adventurers give lectures on how to trap certain monsters, ways one might use a sword when fighting various critters, or even what herbs to look for when one was out and about.

On the left side of the entrance was the ‘workspace.’ It was an area where one would go to either turn in bounties, sign up for bounties or even register bounties on creatures that caused trouble or posed a threat. If someone had the money to post the bounties, there was always someone that would take them up, but for the most part, all bounties were generally state-sponsored. Scouts combed through the kingdom and then registered all potential troublemakers with the Hunter’s Guild, and then the country would tell the Hunter’s Guild how much they’d be willing to pay to have that threat removed.

Behind the bounties offices was a series of bars and butcher shops that sold an extravagant selection of alcohol and meat. Since proof of a kill was often required for bounties, people continuously walked in with fresh meat, and these shops were the first ones to buy, cut, dress and resell it. People would often buy a meal or a beer and then walk over and listen to whatever lecture was going on at the time.

There was a large set of stairs in the middle corridor that led to the second and third floors, which were both filled with private rooms available for rent. They were some of the most expensive rooms in the city, especially for their size, but they were also some of the most convenient due to their locale. And, most importantly, there were well-trained and seasoned guards posted in the halls each night to ensure that people stayed in their own rooms and that no one was killed in the middle of the night.

In all, it was a fairly good starting model for what Lee eventually wanted for his church in Satterfield, although he admittedly needed to entice more people to come to the tiny town before that dream would ever even come close to being a reality. Right now, his church was essentially a super-light version of the Hunter’s Hall that was barely one-twentieth the size.

Amber entered first, carrying all of the heads in front of her as they all mosied into the Hall, and she drew more than a few simple stares. Even just for a moment, it seemed like Lee’s little group was officially the star attraction for some show the Hunter’s Guild had commissioned or the opening act for a circus.

“You know that you aren’t allowed to kill other hunters,” one of the people, a short, blue-haired Firbolg man said as he watched them enter.

“I didn’t act--” Amber began before being quickly cut off.

“Thank you for sharing. Have a nice day,” Lee interjected and put an arm on Amber’s shoulder, cutting off her retort right where it started. The Firbolg was unsteady on his feet, swaying back and forth, and he was likely as drunk as if he had taken Miller up on a drinking challenge--and Lee didn’t feel like dealing with a drunk at the moment. “Just ignore him,” Lee said to Amber when she shot him an annoyed glance for interrupting her.

“Fine,” she harrumphed in answer, and the group continued on to the main desk.

They only had to wait in line for a few minutes before they were noticed by the staff there. “You aren’t supposed to kill other hunters,” the man said as soon as he saw the heads Amber was holding.

Amber looked back at Lee as if checking if it were okay but then just barreled into her explanation, talking a mile a minute, before he could actually answer. “I know we aren’t, and we didn’t want to. We were hunting a Cragaboom, we had just killed it, and they came to take our bounty. We didn’t know what to do, so we thought we’d report it to you guys. We figured that, if they tried to kill us over claiming the Cragaboom’s head, they might have actually killed others and that, even if there wasn’t a bounty on them, we should notify you of what happened right away.”

The man behind the counter leaned back, and his scowl deepened as he looked at the heads. “You’re trying to tell me that an upstanding Firbolg like him tried to waste his time bothering with the likes of you?” the man, who was a Leprechaun himself, grumbled. “How are we supposed to know you’re telling the truth?”

“You could just investigate it.” Amber’s frustration leaked through in her tone. “I mean, that’s your job, right? Not mine, last time I checked.”

“Amber.” Lee said her name quietly in warning as he placed a hand on her shoulder. He could tell the whole thing was going to escalate quickly at this rate, and he could feel a growing sense of panic gripping his chest. Nope. This isn’t good. Even if we’re in the right, we don’t have the power or authority to act this way, woman!

“Yeah, it is your job, and you shouldn’t doubt a young lady,” Miller said, pushing himself between Amber and the counter. “I was there too, and they tried to take my head. Are you going to tell me that was justified?”

“No, sir, of course not. I would never insinuate that a gentleman like--

“Like what? Go on. Say it, you spineless bastard.” Miller’s rage started to grow, infusing the large room with a sudden tension.

“I would never deign to besmirch your kind.” The once-arrogant Leprechaun was now practically groveling before Miller.

“Look at me,” Miller demanded, reaching across the counter and grabbing the Leprechaun by his leather chest piece. “Look me right in the eyes. If I find out that you pulled any of the sneaky crap that your treacherous, bootlicking kind is known for, I swear to you: I will hunt you down, rip your arms right out of their sockets and drown you in the blood that spills from your still twitching limbs.”

What the hell? Lee stifled a groan and said, “I think what our overzealous compatriot is saying is that we’re not here for trouble.” He pulled both Amber and Miller back a step. “We’d just like to notify you of the issue, collect our money, reserve four rooms for tonight and be on our way.” Lee had a habit of reserving an extra room for Amber, even if she never used it. It was odd and costly, but he wanted to know that she ended up in his bed every night because she wanted to be there and not just because that was the only option she had.

“The money for three Cragaboom bounties is . . . 6 gold pieces.” The man handed Miller the cash and then backed up from the counter as far as he could while still sitting in his chair before adding, “While I’m required to thank you for your service, I feel obligated to let you know that I still have to report this issue to the higher-ups. A male Firbolg with three”--he paused a second--“Humans have killed another esteemed party. It’s required, and they’ll do worse to me than you will if I don’t report it. Now, were there more parties involved? Perhaps a witness to corroborate your story?”

Your party has been awarded 1800 Experience for completing three medium difficulty state quests. Your share is 450 Experience.

Ling and Lee sighed in perfect harmony.

Please don’t take Miller’s threats lightly. “I’m sorry to say there are none, and we thank you for your time. We’ll be on our way now.”

The Leprechaun looked like he wanted to stop the group--he opened his mouth and held out his hand--but then he ended up not saying anything. Lee used his golems to watch as the clerk signaled to another man in the room.

You should have listened to Miller. Lee sighed again as they walked to the lecture tables. Some days, the nonsense piled up and made him sigh so much that he thought he was either practicing meditation or trying to expand his lung size.

Ethan, keep a watch on what’s going on. I smell trouble.

The four of them sat at one of the open tables, and Lee mumbled, “It’s too open.”

“Hmm?” Amber asked.

Ling even raised an eyebrow as she looked around. “You’ve never complained about it before. Is something wrong with this particular table?”

“It’s just . . .” Lee glanced to his sides and then to Miller holding the barrels of beer. “I think we need to go to the alley. Now.”

Miller looked at Lee for a moment, confusion written across his simple face. Then, his whole face expanded as if he had been struck by a brilliant epiphany. “It’s because you finally saw reason and don’t want to share our beer with anyone!” Miller said enthusiastically. “That’s great! Great! GREAT, I TELL YOU!”

Easy. You’re not trying to sell cereal. Lee nodded. “Something like that. Let’s just say that I think some uninvited guests are going to try and ruin our good mood if we eat here.” The two golems were efficient in their work, and they had already picked up on the fact that there was a group approaching. He pushed himself back to his feet, urging the others to follow him. They were clearly curious and concerned, but they did as he suggested and rose with him.

Thanks to the golems’ scouting, he knew exactly where the would-be aggressors were coming from, so he led his own little group in the opposite direction, dodging them at every turn so that they didn’t bump into any of the men that were now being ‘alerted’ to the problem within the Hunter’s Guild.

“Lee, what’s going on?” Ling asked, following closely behind. “I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush.”

Miller shook his head. “Because he wants to drink the beer sooner, of course. Simple concept, woman, simple concept.”

Lee couldn’t help but chuckle at that response as they made their way out of the Hunter’s Guild and into the back alley across the road.

“Should we keep going?” Ling asked as Lee came to a stop.

“No. The main street isn’t visible from here. Only a few houses,” he answered, checking to make sure there were no potential witnesses to what was about to happen. “This place should be perfect.” Their back was against the wall, and he somehow knew that they were going to either have to win this fight or wind up dead. Those men weren’t coming to question Lee and his group, and they weren’t coming to follow up on any investigation: they were coming for vengeance, plain and simple. He could see in the way they stalked around and how they kept a hand on their weapons at all times.

“Perfect for what? I don’t see a table or chairs. I don’t see anything here that would make drinking perfect,” Ling said, looking around.

“Who says he planned on drinking?” a voice asked in greeting. Lee had already known that they were there because of his connection to Ethan, but now he was finally able to see the four Firbolgs and two Leprechauns with his own eyes. “He didn’t come to drink. He came to die.”

“Yeah, he knew what was coming, the cledor rat,” a feminine voice added. “You people always have a sixth sense for knowing when you’re about to die, don't you? Just like rodents.”

“Don’t worry about it, Little Ethan. She didn’t mean rodent as an insult,” Lee said aloud to his tiny mouse compatriots and then quietly turned and nearly whispered, “Into the forest, against the mountain” to Ling, only turning his attention back to the menacing group in front of him once he saw Ling acknowledge his statement with a nod.

The Firbolg in front cackled snidely, his laugh bouncing off the walls in the most grating fashion possible, and asked, “Who you talking to, boy? Although you’re right: ‘rodent,’ for your kind, isn’t an insult. It’s an apt description for the type of gutter-trash you are.”

Lee had the pair of Ethans silently slip along either side of the alley, each carrying a thin wire between their teeth as they ran forward. They wrapped the wires around the first fixtures that they could find that was below knee height, gutter pipes ran down the wall from the third floor and into the sewers beneath the street.

Trap set. Lee smiled, not actually realizing it’d go off so smoothly until he noticed that all six of them were staring at him and that not a single one had looked down to see the mice.

“You keep saying ‘trash’ and ‘my kind,’ but I have to ask you a question.” Lee took out his sword and a shield while trying not to appear rushed. He had been so busy trying to orchestrate things that he ended up being the last in his group to arm himself.

“What’s that, boy?” the man asked, revealing the pair of daggers he used for his own weapons.

“Well, I just want to know . . .” Lee spoke slowly, dragging out both his words and his question as he waited for the man to edge closer to the tripwire. “How is it going to feel if you end up getting gutted like a stray cat in some nowhere alleyway by stupid, filthy trash?”

“Oh, boy, stop talking about things that’ll never happen,” the man scoffed, leaning back and letting out another laugh. He was joined by most of his friends, but then a spear flew through the air and pierced straight into his kneecap.

“Ha ha ha!” Miller let out his own boisterous, mocking laugh this time as he pulled another spear out of his inventory. “If you keep talking with such a disrespectful attitude to the leader of our church, I’m going to kill you myself before our Herald has a chance to!” he declared proudly, smiling to himself as he watched the man grab his knee while screaming in pain.

“You son of the town tart!” the man bellowed. “And you people?! What are you doing?! GET THEM!”

Miller threw his second spear before anyone even so much as moved, this one landing directly in the man’s throat and pushing him back into the Leprechaun behind him. “I told you I’d kill you myself if you kept running your mouth, you blasphemous bastard!”

Your party has killed Campbell. Your party has been awarded 19 silver, 40 copper, a low-quality steel helmet and 742 Experience. Your share of this is 4 silver, 85 copper, and 186 Experience.

The others charged forward. The first in the line of attackers snagged his foot on the tripwire, slamming into the ground face first, and Ling planted an arrow straight into his arm. She shot another one at the same arm, and the man dodged to the left to avoid it. Ling followed with yet a third arrow at the same part of his body, and the man strafed even further to the left. When his left shoulder was almost touching the wall, Lee pounced. He used his large shield to slam the man directly into the wall. Having caught him there, Lee used every ounce of strength he had to hold him in place, pinning the man’s chest and arms between himself and the building behind him. Ling immediately followed up Lee’s maneuver by firing off a series of arrows aimed directly at the man’s head, loosing five in the span of only a few seconds. The first tore through his scalp above his ear, shaving off a line of hair and causing him to scream out in pain, but a second shot right into his open mouth and shut him up for good. One last arrow sank into his face below his left eye, and Lee held him there and watched the lifeblood pour out of his skull.

You have killed Paul. Your party has been awarded 19 silver, 61 copper, a full plate iron chest piece and 810 Experience. Your share of this is 4 silver, 90 copper, and 202 Experience.

The moment Lee’s shield had become occupied with holding the would-be pincushion against the wall, the Firbolg that had been behind him a moment ago stepped forward and struck out with a whip. It lashed into Lee’s back and dealt 28 points of damage as the thorny, spiked chain slashed into Lee’s armor. Lee had been expecting to be on the receiving end of an attack. The entire alleyway was far too narrow for multiple people to fight at once, so he knew that he’d be the center of attention the moment he had stepped in front of Miller and the others with his large shield--but he hadn’t expected it to hurt so bad.

“Can’t you just wait your turn to die?!” Lee howled as a second attack struck him again on the back, peeling off another 19 hit points. Thankfully, Lee’s now-dead victim was out of the way, and he was able to lean into the blow and take the hit across his shoulder rather than his back. If he hadn’t, the blow likely would have done as much if not more than the last hit. He backed up and maneuvered his shield in front of him, turning to face the enemy,

“I can’t get around you, Lee!” Miller complained. “Lee, let me at ‘em. Let me kill that bastard!”

The only way the massive Firbolg was going to get around Lee and his shield in the narrow alley was if at least one of them turned sideways, and that would have left the one who turned vulnerable and unable to dodge any incoming attacks for a couple seconds. Lee likely wouldn’t be able to maneuver around a wounded Miller with his shield to effectively cover him if his friend were critically hurt while shimmying past either, meaning that the spearman would be open to every other attack that came after as well.

“No, I have him,” Lee replied without ever taking his eyes off of his opponent. He held his shield up in front of him, constantly vigilant and ready to intercept the next blow from the whip. He also noticed that the man was holding a dagger in his opposite hand and made a mental note that he was going to have to watch out for that as well.

Only a second passed, but then Ethan knocked over a stack of metal trash cans just behind the man. The clinking and clanking as the fell to the ground set off the man’s hair-trigger nerves, and he lashed out with his whip once again. Lee tried to block it with his shield, but he was too slow bringing the clunky shield around in time, and the tail-end of the whip snapped around his sword arm. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the blows that had landed on his back, only dealing 4 damage as it wrapped around his bracer, but it left him vulnerable.

The Firbolg yanked back on the entangled whip with all his might, and Lee lost the battle of strength flat out, almost instantly losing his stance as he was pulled forward. He tried to throw his shield out in front of him in order to block any incoming damage, but the man’s left arm snaked around the shield just as Lee came within reach. The dagger he held there stabbed cleanly into Lee’s side.

Damnit! Lee cursed in his head and gritted his teeth. This time the man had landed a vital strike, and 141 hit points had been knocked off in a single blow. The pain of such a massive critical was enough that he knew he would have passed out if his body wasn’t full of what he felt was enough adrenaline to bring a dead horse back to life for a few last kicks.

You have suffered internal organ damage. You will take 3 points of damage every 3 seconds until healed.

A little bit of terror clamped his heart as his eyes saw an 89 floating there with his health bar, and his mind raced and tried to figure out what to do next. The bleeding effect placed a timer on his life. No matter what, the battle had to end in less than four and a half minutes or he was a dead man. To make matters worse, this whip-wielding Firbolg was no joke. Even when Lee had slammed into him with all his weight, the man barely moved. Lee had no idea what to do to handle this.

Lee pushed off with his shield, trying to back away and create some space between them, but he couldn’t budge so much as an inch. The whip was still wrapped around his arm, holding him firmly in place, and the dagger was already on a return trip.

I’m going to die!

Seeing no other alternative, Lee abandoned his attempts at getting to a safer distance. He slammed his shield forward into the man rather than trying to pull away and simultaneously twisted his weight to the side. The maneuver gave him enough room to sidestep around his opponent while turning him around at the same time. The whip-wielder’s back was exposed to Miller, Ling, and Amber, but Lee was likewise exposed to those behind his opponent as well.

Both parties took advantage of the play, each rushing forward, but the duo was closer to Miller than they were to the man’s friends. Lee’s attempts to back away from the man had been fruitless, but they had succeeded in slowly shuffling the man away from his own group one small bit at a time. Miller had been eager to get into the fight, and he didn’t waste time when the opportunity came up.

You have killed Bjurstrom. Your party has been awarded 18 silver, 42 copper, a steel sword and 922 Experience. Your share of this is 2 silver, 80 copper, and 231 Experience.

Lee was already turning back around before Miller even finished his work. Another sword swing struck him across the back for 31 more damage, leaving him with 57 health left after the bleeding effect ticked off another point. Thankfully, he was able to get his shield up and block the next attack. The impact from the swipe still knocked a single point of damage off his bar, but that wasn’t high enough to bring Lee into the panic zone yet.

A new challenger approaches, Lee thought ruefully, taking a deep breath and studying his opponent. Like Lee, this one was using a sword and a shield. Her shield wasn’t as large--she had opted for a buckler--but its worn appearance, riddled with dents and scratches, let Lee know she had used it before. A lot. Her blue eyes were trained on him as she gave him a wicked-looking grin as if to say, ‘I’m going to kill you,’ while she twirled her sword around in her hand. He wasn’t sure if she was doing that to show her talent with a blade and intimidate him or to invite him into attacking her while her guard was down and her sword wasn’t being held properly, but if the effect was to cause him to freeze, it did, and another point of health ticked off his life bar, leaving him with only 55.

While he was trying to figure out how to defeat her, Ling came in with a suggestion from behind him. “Forest into the mountain?” Ling offered, letting Lee know she had a clear shot to do it. Lee readied himself, signaling by only the slightest nod that he would risk repeating the tactic.

At that moment, an arrow flew past Lee’s right side and struck her buckler. She was able to deflect it safely, but the small movement forced her just a little to the right. The next arrow came whizzing by and forced her back and a little to the right again. Things seemed to be looking like they would go smoothly.

It’s going to work again, Lee thought confidently.

But then the girl took the initiative. She pushed herself away from the wall the moment she came in contact with it, using her momentum and the added force to barrel right into Lee. He was able to absorb most of the impact on his shield, so it didn’t do much damage, but it was just enough to stop Lee from slamming into her like he had planned. Ling’s last shot, which had been neatly aimed at where the woman was supposed to end up, pierced directly through Lee’s shoulder blade and pulled his health down another 28 points.

Crap. Lee used the last bit of energy he had to push back at the girl with everything he could. She might have been stronger than him, but with only twenty-four seconds of life left now thanks to the bleeding effect, Lee had all the incentive he needed to summon up every bit of strength he could muster. He closed his eyes against his better judgment and pushed forward. He didn’t stop until he heard the clink of her chainmail shirt on the wall behind her, closely followed by the sounds of a very, very short-lived scream. Then he opened his eyes to see she was dead.

Your party has killed Sarah. Your party has been awarded 2711 silver, 1420 copper, a gold wedding band and 790 Experience. Your share of this is a gold wedding band, 6 silver, 78 copper, and 197 Experience.

He immediately looked down the alleyway in expectation of an attack on his unprotected side from the two remaining enemies, but he was greeted by the surprising but ultimately-welcome sight of a massive barrel of beer hurtling through the air toward his assailants. The projectile cask smashed into the two remaining enemies just before they could reach Lee. The weight of the barrel of beer combined with Miller’s throwing strength was enough to crush the first one and send both to the ground in a heap.

“Get down!” Miller shouted.

Lee heard the heavy steps of his friend behind him as the Firbolg took a brief running start. Guessing what was coming next, Lee quickly did as Miller had instructed and dropped to a kneeling position, ducking his head for good measure. The hulking warrior leapt over Lee the next moment and landed on top of the stunned attackers with a spear in hand and went to work.

Part of Lee really wanted to watch what was happening, but he knew that he didn’t have much health left. He currently had 9 seconds before he was all bled out.

“The purple water!” Lee shouted. Amber, who hadn’t been able to help at all during the fight, seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. She pulled out the water Lee had imbued with special properties earlier and tossed it to him.

Six seconds left. Lee cringed as he chugged the entire contents of the waterskin. Sure enough, while it didn’t fully heal him, it immediately closed the bleeding wounds and restored roughly 75 hit points, putting him back up to a much more comfortable 81 health. It wasn’t exactly down to the one-second wire, but it sure as hell felt like it to Lee.

Your party has killed Paladino. Your party has been awarded 17 silver, 42 copper, superior-quality leather pants and 850 Experience. Your share of this is 4 silver, 35 copper, and 212 Experience.

Your party has killed Danielle. Your party has been awarded 15 silver, 93 copper, a box of knitting supplies and 844 Experience. Your share of this is a box of knitting supplies, 3 silver, 98 copper, and 211 Experience.

Divinity Power: Life in Death activated.

“I don’t ever want to come that close to dying again,” Lee said aloud, holding the now-closed-up wound on his side.

“How close was it?” Miller asked.

“Six seconds,” Lee answered honestly.

“Well,” Miller said, turning to Ling. “It wouldn’t have been that much if you had just watched where you shot those--”

“Miller, it wasn’t her fault. We got played. Not just her, both of us. I was just as much to blame, so please don’t--”

“But she almost killed you! You were fighting for the righteous cause of justice, delivering swift death to those who would oppress her, and she shot you in the back!” Miller’s anger was palpable. “AND THE BEER!”

And there’s the real source of your frustration. Lee suddenly realized why Miller was lashing out as he looked over and saw that the barrel that had smashed into the two men had broken and was leaking out horribly all over the alleyway.

“Well, then don’t just watch it! SAVE WHAT WE CAN!” Lee ordered, pointing to the beverage.

Miller didn’t even stop to answer as he rushed over to the broken wooden container and began working on it.

Lee turned to Ling and gave her a half-hearted smile as the Firbolg scrambled to come up with a way to store the remaining beer before it all poured out of the cask. He could see in her face that, even without Miller chiding her, she was pretty torn up by what had happened. She just stared at him, lip quivering, and didn’t say a thing for a few minutes.

“He knows you didn’t mean to,” Amber said, putting an arm around Ling’s shoulder. “It’s okay. These things happen. It was a tight space, and you were incredibly helpful. Without you, he might not have made it that long in the fight, so don’t beat yourself up.” Amber poured on one reassuring phrase after the other, but it didn’t seem to have much effect.

Ling stood there staring dumbfoundedly and glassy-eyed despite Amber's continued assurances and soothing words, and she looked like she was on the edge of tears. Her trembling lip and erratic breathing certainly made her appear as if she was on the verge of a breakdown, she just stayed there, staring at him, and then turned around. Lee thought for a second that, if there hadn’t been a wall behind her, she would have already darted like a deer breaking the magical spell of the headlights. She might have even tried to run past him, but that side of the alley was now closed by a greedy Firbolg. When she turned her head back, Lee could see that her eyes had started to swell with shiny pools of water as the tears finally welled up.

“Hey, it’s okay. These things happen, and I’m still here,” Lee said comfortingly. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. I consented to the play too.” Lee had nicknamed the formations and strategies they used ‘plays,’ since the closest analogous concept he could think of in the real world was when American football players would shout random words like ‘Blue 42,” and it would have a very specifically-executed formation and plan of attack tied to it.

“I just . . .” Ling bit her lip again, leaving marks as her teeth withdrew. “I don’t know what I should have done . . . what I should do. Do I take the shot and risk hitting you next time? Do I not take the shot because you might die? Do I give you more leeway so that I don’t risk it and just accept that fewer arrows will hit? What should I have done? How do I . . .? What do I do? You have to tell me what to do because I can’t be the one that kills you. You can’t die. You can never die.”

“Woman, shut up and stop whining,” Miller called out from the pool of spilled beer that he was now literally drinking off the ground. He had started skimming his cup across the ground in order to scoop as much of the large puddle as he could before chugging it and trying again. Lee wasn’t sure if he was able to get more than a few drops at a time, but he did seem determined. Without even looking up, he continued to berate Ling. “If he had died, it would have been because Augustus meant for it to happen. Didn’t you read that book of his? Do you think he fears death? Haven’t you been around him at all?”

“I . . . I . . .” Ling hesitated, her eyes darting between Lee and Miller. “I did. I read it.”

“Then you should know that death for him is a step up from this life. If he dies, he’ll just end up hanging out with David, who was far better company than most of the people I remember running into here,” Miller insisted. “But if you don’t believe me and end up killing him by accident, don’t worry, woman. I’ll send you off to be with him myself so your mind will be at ease.”

Lee put his foot down on that right away. “You will not. If something happens to me, you need to kill the slime I was fighting, not the friends I was with.”

“Why not both?” Miller asked, seemingly oblivious to Lee’s point. “It’s not like death is a bad thing.”

“Because I SAID SO!” Lee had had enough of Miller’s arrogance. He often let the Firbolg push him around because their goals aligned. Helping people, running headlong into danger, doing the right thing--Miller was the type of person that Lee didn’t know he had wanted to be before he was kidnapped and dragged to the new world. Even as dumb as he sometimes seemed, there was something to be admired in someone who always did what he thought was right regardless of the consequences. It was the reason Lee rarely fought against Miller’s pushy mannerisms, but this was just one thing he couldn't tolerate. “You will wait for Augustus himself to decide when her time is up, or when any one of our flock that messes up in a fight’s time is, and that’s final.”

Miller stopped scooping the beer for a moment and looked over at Lee. “If the Herald insists,” he said. His dry tone and odd facial expression as he said it both left Lee confused.

“And as for you”--Lee turned to Ling--“you just need to execute the moves as I say, stop worrying about what could have happened and focus on what actually did happen. Six of them are dead, and two of them were your kills. Thank you,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. You didn’t almost kill me. You saved my life.”

Too cheesy? Too much? Lee tried to read her reaction. Her lip had stopped quivering the moment Miller had yelled at her, but she hadn’t wiped away the tears, so they were still fighting against gravity and clinging to her eyes as she looked at him.

“You’re . . . You’re welcome,” she mumbled.

“What was that?”

“You’re welcome.”

“That’s better. Now, help me with this.” Lee pointed to the arrow still sticking out of his back. In the heat of the fray and the emotional aftermath, he had forgotten to pull the arrow out of him. It still hurt, and the stinging there and in his side where the dagger had struck him was only getting worse as the adrenaline faded from his system.

“I’ll get it!” Amber volunteered so quickly it made Lee realize his faux pas.

Crap. Did I just ask the girl who is torn up about a friendly fire incident to pull her own arrow out of me? God, I’m so stupid. Lee winced at his mistake.

“You don’t have to tell me. I already knew,” Augustus’s voice chimed in just to make that awkward and overused sitcom burn.

Not you, the actual one. Lee cursed at his kidnapper right as Amber yanked the arrow out of his back. Surprisingly, even on the way out, the arrow did two points of damage and added a bleed.

You are bleeding. You will take 1 points of damage every 10 seconds until healed.

“Crap. That seems to have just re-opened the wound. Anyone got a bandage?” Lee asked. When they shook their heads, he just gave up on the less-draining way out and summoned his spirit. He hadn’t been very successful healing himself in the past, but he also hadn’t needed to worry as much, so he hadn’t practiced. His Divinity Power, Life in Death, had always healed up DOTs or life-threatening issues once he managed to kill the opponent. That’s why it wasn’t a big deal for him to rush a heal when he could just sit down, bandage himself up and heal the old fashion way, but the arrow hadn’t been from an enemy that he could kill. It had been from Ling. In a way, this made friendly fire far deadlier than any neutral or hostile party attacking him. There might even be a time where he would have to choose between staying alive or killing off someone who fought side by side with him, not that Lee ever imagined a scenario where he could actually kill someone he fought side by side with. He’d probably just take the death in that hypothetical case--or at least that’s what he told himself as the thought popped into his head.

Okay, I can do this, Lee told himself, taking a deep breath and circulating the spirit energy throughout his body the same way he did with the other people he had healed. It took a few moments, but it worked. He could feel his flesh mend as it stitched itself up across the wound, his injuries healing up and even the bruises disappearing. After less than two minutes of work, his entire body had been healed, and he still had a third of his spirit left. “Could you hand me a few water bottles?” Lee said to Ling. She didn’t respond verbally but quickly produced all the bottles she had on her and started giving them to Lee.

Lee then took the bottles and started filling them up one at a time with his spirit, turning each one purple. Unlike the first time, he was able to do the whole process in a much more energy-efficient manner and managed to turn seven water bottles completely purple.

Recipe Learned: Mana Water

Effects: Unknown.

For fully mastering a new recipe without the assistance of a recipe book, you have been awarded +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 128

Miller finished his alleyway beer-cleaning service and walked back over while watching Lee fill the last bottle with mana. “He sent them after us,” Miller said as Lee looked up at him.

“Yeah, the wretch has a death wish,” Lee replied while nodding.

“Are we doing this now, or do you want to wait until our next trip?” Miller asked, being unusually reasonable.

“Do you think you can sleep well with him still alive?” Lee asked. He wasn’t one to normally encourage a ‘rampage.’ Nevertheless, half of him was hoping Miller would push them in that direction.

“Does Augustus have a way for us to kill him and everyone in the Hunter’s Guild at once?” Miller asked, and Lee could see a quiet fury in Miller’s eyes that hadn’t been there for nearly a week.

“You want to burn the place down? I mean, the building is wood, but I am sure they have measures against it,” Lee responded, looking in the direction of the Hunter’s Guild as he tried to remember the details. “Also, there are too many innocent people in there . . . good people that don’t deserve that.”

Miller nodded. “That’s right. Innocents. Well, what does Augustus suggest?”

Why are you being so calm about this? Shouldn’t you have already rushed in there and started killing? “Well, I don’t know about you, but my guess is that he’s probably going to head home when he gets off work. I don’t think the employees sleep at the same place they work, especially with the cost of rooms there. If you don’t mind being a little sneaky about it, we can snag him then.”

Miller’s neck flexed, and his chin retreated as disgust painted itself across his face. The idea of ‘snagging’ someone in a stealthy and underhanded method clearly didn’t appeal to the Firbolg at all. “Are you sure this is the best idea Augustus could come up with?”

“You could also get him on the way to the bathroom or pay a girl to seduce him into a secluded area,” Amber suggested. “Back when we were . . .” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Back when we were on the mountain, we used to always talk about doing that to our jailers. We used to always say that, if one of the jailers ever got too far out of line, we’d lure him away from the others, kill him off and then bury him before anyone was ever the wiser. I don’t know if it’d work, but I used to run through ways I’d do it in my head a thousand different ways every time I closed my eyes at night.

Lee thought about it for a moment. “That could work too, but it seems much riskier. It would also tip him off to the fact that we’re still alive. We can’t use either of you because then he’d know we were still around, and we can’t hire someone because we don’t know anyone in the town we can trust.”

Amber frowned. “We could just camp near the bathroom and gut him when he goes in though?”

“I’m not sure I want to deal with that crap,” Lee said. “Let’s just stick to the alleyway idea.”

“Isn’t there a plan that doesn’t involve us scurrying around like the rats he thinks you are?” Miller asked. “Doesn’t Augustus have a way for us to kill him honorably without having to fight the whole town?”

“Didn’t we already defeat the enemy in honorable combat?” Lee looked over at the bodies. “This isn’t combat. This is just us tying up a loose end. Compared to our skirmish with those six, this should be like putting the icing on a cake.”

“Putting what on a cake?” Ling asked curiously, finally wiping her eyes dry.

“Icing is . . . You know what? Never mind. I’ll show you next time we’re near a kitchen,” Lee said. How the hell do they live in a world without icing? I thought the lack of bacon was bad enough, but they don’t even have any of the other substitute comfort foods either. What sort of monstrosity of a place is this? Lee couldn't help but pity the people of this world, and he began to feel like he understood how these people could be so violent and murderous toward strangers.

“You better have some for me too,” Amber said, snuggling up to Lee’s arm as she grabbed one of the purple bottles away from him.

“Fine! I’ll have enough for everyone,” Lee laughed. “But, right now, we need to focus on how we’re taking the bad apple out of the bunch before he spoils our fun.”

Ling grabbed one of the now-purple water bottles that Lee held out for her. “I think your plan is fine,” she said agreeably.

Miller hesitantly took the bottle extended to him as well. “Fine. If it’s what you think is best. But, in the meantime, let’s have some of this divine beer. We’ve already been interrupted enough.”

“Did you manage to save enough of that barrel to hold you for a bit?” Lee asked, pointing to the broken one on the ground.

“Yeah. Through painstaking efforts, I have recovered some of the fallen Brave Brother’s Brew,” Miller answered, puffing out his chest as he produced a now full mug of beer.

“That’s . . . not a bad name. Okay, well then, you drink that. I need to take the other one and go find us more supplies. We’re still incredibly far behind what we need in order to finish restoring Satterfield.” Lee grabbed the still-intact, full barrel of beer from next to Miller. The look of horror on the Firbolg’s face was priceless, and it looked as if he were watching his own beloved firstborn son being taken from the crib right in front of him by an evil monster.

Amber burst out laughing at Miller’s expense. “Relax, Miller! Lee will come back with more, different, and even better beers. Just have some faith in him!” she said between fits of giggles. “I’ll go with him to make sure we get you a good one, big guy, so don’t you worry at all.”

Miller looked like he wanted to say something, and his mouth hung open for a minute, but after a second, he closed it and just nodded. “Alright then. I’m going to listen to Augustus and hide here and make sure that weasel doesn’t leave before we notice.”

“Suit yourself. Enjoy the beer. And Ling, you mind making sure he doesn’t get in over his head?” Lee asked.

“If you think that’s best,” Ling said.

Lee liked having Ling around. She’s always a team player, Lee thought to himself, walking out of the alleyway with his barrel of beer and Amber.

Chapter 3

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 17

Health: 270/270

EXP: 7889/10500

Primary Stats:

Power 27 (28)

Toughness 27 (28)

Spirit 27 (28)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 14

Intelligence 128 (134)

Honor 5

Faith 622

Personal Faith 213

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Novice Level 9

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Novice Level 10

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 1

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Amber and Lee managed to walk for nearly ten minutes without either seeing a restaurant that might buy the beer or exchanging a word between them. It was an awkward sort of silence that felt peaceful at first given the hectic, high-stress nature of the life-or-death fight that Lee had just walked away from, but it started to wear away at him after a while. To make things even more awkward, he was hyper-conscious of the fact that this was the first time they had strolled through town together in a while without even touching, much less holding hands.

“Something bothering you?” Lee asked, no longer being able to take the pressure of the silence weighing down on him.

“Umm . . .” Amber looked over at him and then nodded. “Yeah. Something is.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Amber answered, shaking her head.

“Did I do something wrong?” Lee asked. “You were fairly peppy a few minutes ago. Is it something I said?”

“No.” Amber shook her head again.

“Then . . .?” Lee left the question open, hoping she would fill in the details.

“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Amber answered, her tone on edge. “Just leave it alone.”

“Sorry. You were just being quiet.” Lee didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, it’s been a stressful day,” Amber replied. “I think I need a drink more than Miller, but I guess that can wait.”

“Alright,” Lee sighed. He didn’t have much experience with relationships, but he knew that, if someone didn’t want to talk about something, they wouldn’t. Pushing would only make him into the bad guy. “Well, let’s try to get rid of this quick then.” Luckily, bars, like groceries and restaurants, were a dime a dozen in certain parts of the city, and Lee gave her a smile as they walked into one of the first establishments they came across.

The bar was relatively empty since it was sometime between lunch and dinner. There were a few patrons sitting at the counter, and one or two tables were occupied by some depressed-looking drunks, but save a few clinks, hushed whispers and the occasional noise coming from the back, the entire place was relatively quiet. Conversations were otherwise either muted or non-existent, and none of the excitement or energy he had grown used to from his own bar in Satterfield were present.

“What can I do for you today, good sir?” the bartender asked, breaking the quiet.

“A beer, but not for me.” Lee did his best to put on an old-timey, hokey salesman voice and slapped on an over-emphasized smile as he walked in.

“Then for that lovely lady by your side?” the bartender asked.

“No, for you!” Lee responded cheerfully. “Today, I bring you the finest beer, compliments of the gods themselves, as a tribute to your continued efforts to improve the lives of so many great and wonderful people in this city. If not for your hard work, these people who work and toil such long days to make this fair and wondrous city even greater might never relax at the end of a hard day.”

The load of lies that Lee was spitting was obvious to everyone in the tavern, and while someone might have wanted to call him out on it, not a single one spoke out--likely due to the fact that Lee was spouting compliments as much as nonsense.

“A beer for me? From the gods?” the man asked, suspiciously eyeing the barrel Lee held. “Are you sure it’s not poison? Did my wife send you?”

“That’s alright,” Lee said. He set the barrel down and pulled out two mugs before filling one completely from the cask and then pouring half of its contents into the other. “I can tell you are doubtful, but don’t worry.” Lee downed the contents of the second mug and offered the first to the bartender. “See? No poison. You don’t have to worry about your wife trying to kill you--or, well, you don’t have to worry about me being the instrument of your demise at least.”

The bartender glanced between him and the mug of beer skeptically. “From the gods, eh? You know, that’s pretty ballsy of you to say. Despite the current crowd’s appearance, we’re one of the best zymurgists in town.” He swirled the beer around in the mug, looking down at it appraisingly.

“Well, I can’t fault you if you don’t want to even trust me enough to try it. I was just told by a god above that you were the one to see . . . that you were the one to give this gift of beer to.” Lee smiled as he sealed the barrel shut and then lifted it onto his shoulder once again. “Come on, beautiful,” he said while motioning to Amber. “We have two more bars to visit and reward for their service, and we can’t spend all of our time with a man who won’t even let me offer him a free beer.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” the barkeep said hurriedly. “I’ll try your beer since you’re one of us, and I don't want to turn down your good intentions. Here, let me get you one too. It’s on the house,” he said. He poured a beautiful, deep-golden liquid into a wooden mug and passed it over to Lee. “We have to stick together these days.”

“Indeed. We’re all brothers in the same struggle,” Lee replied, clinking the wooden mug he had been handed against the one he had given the barkeep before they both took large, healthy swigs.

“Holy crud!” Lee exclaimed as he wiped his mouth. “You weren’t kidding! This beer is amazing. That crisp flavor . . . that smooth texture . . . the aftertaste . . . You’ve definitely outdone yourself.” While Lee’s reaction was definitely above and beyond, something that immediately caught the attention of everyone in the bar--as was his intention to do so--it was the barkeeper’s reaction that really kept their interest.

“What . . . What in the world is this? Beer of the Gods indeed! Where did you get this? I need more. I want the barrel!” the barkeep insisted, greedily eyeing the container and licking his lips at the same time. “I want the whole thing.”

The few patrons in the bar began to wander over as well. “Wait, can I try some?” one asked.

“I kind of want to try it too,” another one added suggestively. It wasn’t spoken directly to Lee but to the man next to him and loudly enough for Lee to overhear.

“Well, while I’d love to sell it to you all on an individual basis,” Lee said to the people around him. “What type of herald of good news and tidings would I be if I came to reward this fine man for his outstanding service by giving drink directly to his customers?”

There was a collective grumble from everyone but the bartender at this remark.

“I’m sorry . . . It just wouldn’t be fair to the proprietor of such a wonderful place,” Lee said. “And . . . I really shouldn’t let you have this entire barrel. I mean, I was only told to bring you a mug of it.”

“I need that barrel,” the man insisted. “I’ll pay you full price right here, right now for it, even if it’s missing some since we’ve each had a cup.”

“Half a cup,” Lee corrected. “But that’s not the point. I still need to bring one of these beers to another bar, or else I might anger the god, and his wrath is violent and deadly.”

“Come on, man. Enough with the religious talk. We both know why you’re here, so cut the crap and tell me the price,” the bartender demanded.

“I really am just--” Lee spoke slowly, leaving enough space between his words for the bartender to easily interrupt.

“The price. Just tell me the price.” The man wasn’t going to hear any of Lee’s charade.

“Well, let me pray on it a second,” Lee said, bowing his head.

Then Lee laid it on thick. He made sure every word was over the top and exaggerated as he closed his eyes and practically shouted in his efforts to invoke some holy conversation with a not-so-godly figure that he knew could hear him even if he had whispered. “Augustus, if you could, in your infinite wisdom, find it within yourself to grant more beer to these good and honest patrons who do this holy work on a daily basis for the good of humanity, then I would be much obliged. I, as your humble messenger, would find this as a great gift and dedicate myself even further to your cause!”

The people around the bar all just watched Lee with uncomfortable-looking expressions as he went above and beyond the pale with his theatrics. Lee didn’t have to. The whole process was painfully awkward for him--and probably more so than for the people watching--but he needed to try and earn faith at any venue he could, so he figured it was perfectly reasonable for him to add some divinity to an already-delicious beer.

“A great gift? Even further to my cause?” Augustus’s voice snickered in Lee’s head. “And all I have to do is let you sell the beer you made yourself to a bunch of drunks in a bar? That seems easy enough.”

Shut up. You know I’m not really talking to you, Lee snapped back.

Lee could hear a monkey’s high-pitched, cackling laughter in the background. “But you said my name. Is there another ‘divine Augustus’ you’re familiar with besides me?”

I’m just doing this to get you followers, so be quiet and don’t make me lose concentration.

“Fine, fine. But next time, try to get me more attractive, beautiful followers. Unlike you, I actually have an interest in that sort of thing.” Augustus’s cackle faded off into the distance, letting Lee know that the conversation was finished.

“So? You gonna keep playing games? Or sell me your stuff?” the bartender asked pointedly, and everyone else watched expectantly.

“Well, here’s the thing. The man upstairs says you can”--Lee stretched out the word, elongating the vowel as much as possible--“buy this one, but there is a catch.”

“A catch?” The bartender sighed. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Well, Augustus says that he needs two things, and they are both non-negotiable. The first is that you must tell people that this is the great divine beer of Augustus when you sell it to them.” Lee paused just long enough so that the bartender could agree to his first condition.

“That’s easy enough,” the bartender consented, his tone the forced-sort-of-friendly that Lee knew was fake. “Now, what’s the real catch? Come out with it so that we can be done with this charade.” If he were a betting man, Lee would have placed his bottom dollar on the fact this bartender was doing everything he could to be patient with him, but he didn’t care. He needed the act to come to fruition.

“The second thing is that you have to buy more than this cask,” Lee said. “He says you can only purchase this in multiples of seven.”

The bartender heaved a huge sigh of relief. “That’s fine. We usually sell four or five barrels a day of the regular brew once the rush hits, so buying more than one isn’t a problem. But I’m not paying until the product is delivered. I don’t care how holy you think you are. Payment on delivery.”

“Great. Well, the price is eleven silver,” Lee stated plainly. He knew that liquid was sold by the standardized barrel in this world. Each yielded a small amount over one-hundred and fifty-five beers that would be, by the Imperial measurement system, about twenty ounces. In an outskirt town like Satterfield, most of the beers would only cost someone between three and five copper pieces at most. However, in the city, Lee knew that they would have to pay upwards of ten to twelve copper pieces a drink. This meant that even if he sold the barrel at eleven silver, the barkeep would still be making at least four and a half to seven and a half silver in profit per barrel, and Lee would, assuming he remembered the prices at the grocer correctly, still be making just over eight silver profit himself.

“Eleven silver?!” the bartender gasped in shock, slightly outraged. “That’s highway robbery! No one pays more than seven silver a barrel!”

“Ah, well, that’s alright. If the price is too much, don’t worry about it.” Lee smiled before turning around to signal Amber that they were about to leave. He could tell that the bartender was cursing to himself and screaming in his head.

“Wait. Wait! Don’t be like that. I’ll give you ten silver,” the man countered. “How about that?” He had given up on significantly moving the price down and was now trying to gain just a little leeway.

“I’m sorry,” Lee said, shaking his head disappointedly with a sigh as he turned to leave. “Augustus set the price, not me. I wish I could help you . . . I really do.”

“Fine! Eleven silver is fine, but I need a lot of barrels for the night shift. How many can you get me in one go?”

Lee leaned forward and said, “Brother, if I may call you that since we are both here to serve others, there is no number that Augustus cannot fulfill. In fact, I can tell right now that you still doubt that these are divine beers, beers sent by Augustus, the God of Alcohol and Crafts himself, which is why the number of beers that can be produced is a number you cannot fathom. The only reason Augustus requires any money at all for them is because he wants to help you out even further in the afterlife by using your money to help others and thereby increase the number of good deeds you have done in this life.”

Lee hated asking for money for a religious cause since it made no sense in practice. It was as bad as the televangelists who claimed that donating a jet to some random pastor would help them get into heaven--as if an all-powerful deity would actually need money from a poor person that could barely afford to pay their own bills. But Lee wasn’t an all-powerful god, so he had to ask. He had to get the money, so even if it left him feeling sick to his stomach, it was the best solution he could think of.

The man’s long face was so exasperated with Lee’s proselytizing that he looked ready to smack Lee, and he probably would have if he didn’t want the beer.

“Okay, ye of little faith, how about I prove it to you?” Lee said. “Tell me the number of beers you need, and I’ll be back with proof.”

“Picking up beers and bringing them here is proof that they’re divine?” one of the visibly-vexed and impatient customers asked.

“I’m not going to pick up beer. I’m going to call for Augustus to make the beer here,” Lee said.

“Fine, I want sixty barrels of beer then,” the barkeep insisted. “You think your Augustus can produce that much instantly?” he said, making it into a challenge.

“He can, but it must be in a multiple of seven, remember?”

“Okay, then sixty-three--or seventy! Let’s see him handle that many so quickly. I’ve never heard of this Augustus brewery, so they can’t be in town. I’m curious how you’ll manage this.” The barkeep was clearly exasperated with Lee’s antics after having put up with them for so long, and this was now quickly becoming an act of defiance more than an actual order.

“Well, I’ll leave this one with you and these fine patrons and be back with more, so have the money ready! I’ll be back, and I’ll be conjuring up the beer right in front of you. I just need to go get some containers and pray for a bit.” Lee smiled to himself as he turned and left with Amber.

As soon as they were outside and headed to the grocer, Amber tugged on his sleeve. “I thought you were the one who made it, right?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Trust me when I say that, if not for Augustus, I wouldn’t be here,” Lee explained, extending a hand and tussling her hair. “So, this will still be his work, and he’ll still be the one taking the credit.”

“But . . . shouldn’t you still get some of the honor?” Amber questioned. “You’re literally producing perfect beer instantaneously. Why give away all the credit?”

“Because it’s important for the faith,” Lee responded patiently. “Also, if they thought I was the sole party responsible, what’s to stop someone from trying to use or secure me in a way neither of us wants?”

Amber sucked in a quick breath of air before scrunching her face up like she had just bitten into the sourest piece of candy on earth but couldn’t spit it out. “Yeah, I don’t want to think about that,” she said. “But you’re not lying to us about other things with Augustus, are you? Augustus is real, isn’t he?”

“Of course he is. Like I said: I wouldn’t be here without him,” Lee answered, trying to whisper softly enough that no one could hear them. “Which is why I am not lying here.”

Amber latched onto Lee’s arm. “Not lying, but I don’t think you consider it the truth either. It doesn't feel right. Please don’t use that kind of truth when telling me things--and especially about Augustus.”

I don’t think I use any kind of truth to tell you anything in regards to Augustus! Lee felt a pang shoot through his heart. He genuinely cared about Amber, so lying to her was that much more difficult for him, but the consequences of not lying might be even greater. Still, there was no way that he could make her a promise that he wouldn’t lie to her in the future. In the end, he just rubbed her head without saying anything as they walked to the grocer.

There was no way for him to carry all seventy barrels of water easily--even if he had been able to use his inventory to quickly stash the other ingredients--so he paid to have them delivered directly to the bar. The grocer thought it was strange, but since he was being paid, he loaded up a cart with some of the shop hands, left one to guard the store and unloaded all seventy barrels at once right at the bar’s doorstep.

Heaven’s Hammer, Lee thought as he looked up at the sign while walking in. Kind of ironic, given my current task and what I’m pretending to sell.

“What is all this? These are barrels of water! I ordered beer, not water! I’m not paying no eleven silver for a barrel of water!” the bartender shouted. He was practically huffing as he stomped around the several-dozen wooden, water-filled casks now sitting where two tables previously were.

“Of course they aren’t the beer,” Lee laughed. “But they will be soon. I didn’t want to just dump seventy barrels of beer right into your establishment without a way to store them. I prayed to Augustus, and he said he’d bring beer . . . But he didn’t say he’d store it.” Lee caught a disgruntled look from Amber, and he knew that she wasn’t happy with his lies.

“Oh, really? You’re telling me that all of these barrels of water are going to magically turn into barrels of beer?” the man asked skeptically as both he and the crowd gathered around Lee.

“If I said that, that means it will be true,” Lee responded. He reached down to one of the barrels and stealthily hid his hands as he pulled the ingredients out of his inventory and funneled them into the water. “See?” Lee asked after he had finished converting the water into alcohol. “One barrel of beer, just as promised by Augustus.”

The man’s brows were furrowed as he peered inside. Sure enough, instead of clear water, there was a rich, golden-colored beer. He reached behind him, grabbed a mug from the counter and then proceeded to taste it. “Woah, this is the real deal. This is it. This is the divine beer! But . . . But how?”

You have learned the proficiency skill Sleight of Hand. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. This skill improves one’s ability to hold, manipulate and use small objects deftly without onlookers noticing.

You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 130.

“So, along with the first, that’s 22 silver you owe me now,” Lee said with a smile. “And do I have your faith?”

“Hold on on a minute. How did you do that?” the bartender questioned.

“He could have just told the grocer to tell us they were barrels of water,” one of the patrons observed. “How do we know that they weren’t all beer already?”

“Yeah, this could still be a trick,” another agreed.

“Okay, you think it’s a trick?” Lee challenged, pushing a barrel toward the man. “How about you open it then?”

The dubious man did just that, opening the container to reveal nothing but clear water. “Now, watch carefully,” Lee said. “Watch the water very carefully.” He emphasized the words, making sure their attention would be on the water and not his hands that would be cycling the ingredients from his inventory, and then subsequently into the water, to make the beer. It had been hard to hide the ingredients the first time without everyone watching his every movement, so he was hoping this simple set of words would keep them distracted. However, while everyone else was staring at the soon-to-be beer, Amber was watching his hands.

Your mastery of Sleight of Hand has progressed from the rank of Initiate Level 1 to the rank of Initiate Level 2. Sleight of Hand now allows for better unseen manipulation of small objects.

Due to improving Sleight of Hand, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 131.

Dangit, woman. You already know the trick! Stop being so obvious with your eyes! Lee wanted to snap at her, but he just smiled at her instead. It was half-hearted and apologetic because he knew that he had helped crush her spirit by revealing this small part of his greater lie. I should never have brought her for these transactions. That was my mistake.

“Holy . . . Is this real?” the man gasped in shock as he watched the water transform.

“Taste it,” he quickly ordered the bartender.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” the bartender spat back, but he still dipped his mug in and sampled the beer. “It’s the same. It’s the same, and it’s just as delicious. What the heck? How? How is this possible?” They had gone from squinty-eyed skeptics to wide-eyed and bewildered so quickly. It would have been pleasurable to watch if it weren’t for the fact that, as their eyes grew wider in disbelief and shock, Amber’s continued to narrow little by little with each of his actions.

A week. A full week, and nothing I said or did cast doubt. But I put on a show at a bar for a bunch of drunks, and she suddenly starts doubting me? Lee was a little disappointed by her lack of faith, even if it was entirely justified, and he really was a liar.

“Now, do you understand? Augustus can deliver whatever amount you desire, and I, as his messenger, shall make sure that all your orders are met,” Lee proclaimed, once more returning to his disgusting used-car sales pitch.

Through continued use of deception, you have received +1 Deceit. Current Deceit: 15.

“I . . .” The bartender’s mouth hung open, and where his words failed to come out, another patron’s quickly did.

“Turn all of my water into beer, and I’ll believe any damn thing you say for the rest of my life,” one of the patrons quickly volunteered.

“I don’t need convincing either. That’s a miracle! That’s amazing! I don’t see how this is possible! Who else can do this?! Even the best mages I’ve seen in this city can only blow stuff up or heat things. This is changing the very nature of a liquid!” the man exclaimed loudly.

The bartender nodded right along in agreement with his patrons. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life. Here. This is the money I owe you. I’ll pay. I’ll pay, and I’ll thank Augustus. I had no idea. I had no idea that my deeds had been noticed or that all my years of working hard to make the best beer would leave me actually blessed by a god. I’m so sorry that I doubted you!”

The man’s genuine and heartfelt words pierced Lee’s conscience like daggers, but he didn’t let it show. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal, and I’m just the messenger. If you want to show your honest devotion”--he stopped as he pulled out few of the remaining copies of the Book of Lee that he still had--“please spread the good word,” he continued, kicking into high gear, as if he were trying to talk the group into timeshares. “It’s not required, and I’ll still sell you the beer, but it’d be nice. Also, feel free to visit our church in Satterfield if you ever have the time. We don’t have this beer there yet. This is special. It has been gifted specifically to you at the moment for your service to humanity, but we do have another set of treats I think you’ll like. Just ask for bacon or fried chicken and waffles.”

“For my service to humanity . . .” The bartender scratched his chin as he thought about that. “Bacon and Waffles? Because I served humanity, even when others wouldn’t?”

“Satterfield, huh? That’s not too far from here. What’s the church doing set up there? Why wouldn’t you start it here?” one of the patrons asked.

“Because Augustus told me that the people there needed help,” Lee said, looking over at Amber, whose frown quickly morphed back to a weak smile at that line. And I’m glad I got there when I did.

“Can anyone come?” the man asked.

“Anyone is welcome, and we’ll always do our best by Augustus to have a table and place to stay for you if you come,” Lee promised.

Those types of questions continued as Lee changed the rest of the water into beer. The crowd of patrons insisted on watching the entire time, and for some reason, it seemed to continuously amaze them. He thought that they’d get tired of the party trick after watching it several times, but they only grew more and more enthusiastic each time.

Your actions and deeds have successfully converted three people to your religion. Faith has increased by 8. Current Faith: 630.

By the time they left Heaven’s Hammer, they were beloved by everyone. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t believe that Lee was the messenger of an actual god. In a way, he wished that he was. It would have been better than getting stuck working with this offshoot member of some divine pantheon playing a sick version of deity survival games.

“So, you only came to Satterfield because Augustus told you that people needed help there?” Amber asked when they got farther away.

Lee nodded. “You could say that.”

“But he didn’t actually tell you to save us?” Amber pressed.

“Did he have to?” Lee asked back. “If you put a hungry fox in a chicken coup with only one chicken, aren’t you responsible for that chicken’s death?”

“Yeah, but you’re not a hungry fox,” Amber said.

I am, just not in the way you think. Lee groaned at the terrible joke. “No, maybe I’m just as simple to Augustus. He knew me, and he knew that I would see that the villagers needed help--just like you know that a fox would find the chicken. He set everything up and watched the result. So, is he to receive blame or credit?”

“Mmm . . .” Amber thought about it for a moment. “So, you were a pawn?”

“Absolutely.” It felt good to finally answer one of her questions truthfully. He was, without a doubt, a pawn in this game of gods. “I definitely am . . . in a way. But, considering it helped me save you, I’m okay with that. If I hadn’t been a pawn, I can’t even imagine what would have happened to you.”

“I see . . .” Amber bobbed her head slightly. “Okay, so that’s your type of truth, is it?”

“Is that bad?” Lee asked.

“No, but I still don’t like it,” she humphed.

“Is that what was bothering you earlier?”

“No, it’s . . . It’s something else,” she answered.

“Okay then. But you’ll tell me when you have time?”

“Of course. Speaking of time, we still have plenty of it before dinner or that weasley Leprechaun is likely to change shift. Does Augustus want us to go sell some more beer?”

Her tone was slightly sharper as she asked the second question, and Lee couldn’t help but worry because of it. Considering that he had just walked out of that bar with a little over 560 silver pieces, or 5.6 gold, in profits, as well as several more potential converts, he absolutely wanted to do it again. The only problem was that he now felt uncomfortable doing it with Amber in tow. “Are you sure you’re okay with me doing this?” he asked. “I’m going to have to tell truths that you don’t consider to be whole truths--truths that you don’t seem to like all that much--because Augustus expects me to take care of these things.”

She frowned while looking down. “I’m . . . I’m fine with it,” she sighed rather unconvincingly. “Let’s just get it done so that we have money for Satterfield. I know you’re really working hard for the town, and that's important.”

“Thank you,” he said, rubbing her head again, “I--”

Something suddenly caught his attention, however, and he left the next words unsaid. There was a man just ahead who looked just like one of the guards from the first grocer he had visited in town. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn the man was following him.

-----

After visiting several more bars and confusing the hell out of a few more grocers, Lee finally returned to the alleyway, carrying two barrels of beer with him. On the way, a death notification popped up.

Your party has killed Seamus. Your party has been awarded 11 silver, 20 copper, a superior-quality steel sword and 517 Experience. Your share of this is 2 silver, 80 copper, and 130 Experience.

He expected to find a drunk Miller chatting with Ling, but instead, he saw an entirely different sight. There was a Leprechaun lying flat on his back in a pool of his own blood. His arms had been ripped off and carelessly thrown to the side, but it appeared as if someone had cauterized the wounds on his torso and sealed them closed to prevent him from bleeding to death.

“I wish you hadn’t left me here to watch that,” Ling said when she saw Lee coming towards her. “He . . . The Leprechaun left work early . . . likely to either report the incident to his higher-ups or find those guys from earlier and make sure it was done, and he came straight to this alley. Then Miller . . . Miller had fun.” Ling gestured to the body. “It wasn’t . . . pleasant.”

“Don’t blame me,” Miller said defensively. “It’s not my fault at all that this happened. I told him exactly what I’d do, and the idiot came straight to us. His death was inevitable.” Miller kicked the body with his toe as if proving his point. “The slimy, traitorous bastard couldn't even do us the dignity of trying to fight us face to face. What a coward.”

“Mmhmm . . . But how did he know to come here to follow up on the muscle?” Lee asked.

“I saw him speak with the guard at the door of the guild as he came out. The guard pointed in this direction, so he must have told him where we went or where his friends went,” Ling replied.

Lee glanced down at the body of the man who, per Miller’s threat, had been drowned to death by the blood that had drained of his once-twitching arms. He didn’t know how that would have worked, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how horrible of a sight it must have been for Ling to watch.

“Yeah, and he could have definitely killed him in a quicker, cleaner way,” Ling said. “He didn’t have to be so gruesome about it.”

“I had to keep my word. If I don’t keep my word, then what good am I? If I promise something, I have to follow through,” Miller said.

“Yeah, honesty is important,” Amber agreed. It was ostensibly an agreement with Miller, but Lee knew that it was a dig at him more than an acknowledgment of Miller’s point.

“Well, our mission was a success,” Lee proclaimed, finally putting down the two barrels he was carrying. “We managed to raise 2,750 silver pieces for the town. I don’t think we can repeat the same trick again soon though. We may have talked several bar owners into overstocking on our stuff.”

“And this barrel tastes as good as the first two?” Miller asked, grabbing one of the casks.

Lee laughed. “Isn’t there only one way to find out? How ‘bout we go to the Hunter’s Guild now and crack it open?”

“Aren’t you worried about the guard at the front door? He obviously saw the people from earlier and now this Leprechaun all follow us into this alley,” Ling pressed. “He might cause trouble for us, and the bodies are tucked out of sight but not perfectly hidden.”

“That’s a fair point,” Lee agreed. “The way I see it, there are plenty of backdoors to shops around here. Everyone who followed us in might have left the alley through one of them. As for us and our leftovers, we’ve been walking in and out of this alleyway with beer barrels, right?”

“Yeah, and-- Oh.” Ling immediately picked up on what he wanted to do.

“Can you get us three or four more while we use the broken one for the first set of parts? I don’t know how many we’ll need, but it’s better to be on the safe side.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Ling nodded once and vanished around the corner while Lee and Miller went to work chopping up the bodies so that they’d fit easily in the barrels. It was gruesome work, and no one but Miller seemed to be at ease with it, but it had to be done. He had hoped Amber would help, but she followed after Ling.

“Something seems to be bothering everyone today,” Lee noted, but it was also a question directed at Miller as he finished cutting an arm in two and tossed both parts into the semi-broken barrel.

Miller nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re madder today than usual, aren’t you?” Lee asked. He clearly recalled how much more aggressive, angry, loud and argumentative Miller had been. Normally, he’d just agree to do what Lee asked of him. He’d argue sometimes that it wasn’t ‘right’ or ‘just,’ but he wouldn’t try to blatantly go against what Lee wanted or create a huge row over it.

“He’s not the only one that needs killing in this town,” Miller said, gesturing over to the body he had mutilated while Lee was gone.

“Ah.” Lee felt like he was starting to pick up on the source of Miller’s rage. “So, you’ve come to this town before then? Before we met?”

“You might say I’m familiar with some of the people--some of the types of people--that live here.” Miller’s voice might have seemed calm at first, but the way it just barely quaked and vibrated, the way he emphasized his syllables, made it clear that he was growing madder by the second.

“You’re not going to tell me, though, are you?” Lee asked, sensing that Miller’s use of vague answers was intentional.

“We have inventories. Why are you insisting on carrying stuff around all over the place?” Miller asked irritably.

“Because I still haven’t dropped off all of the supplies from our last trip, and my inventory is nearly full, so I thought carrying might be easier,” Lee replied.

“Mine’s not though. You could have just asked me. I can chop up these bodies and throw them in my inventory if you insist on hiding our good deeds like some sort of villainous serial killer. Ling has figured out how to use an inventory too, and so has Amber.”

“Yeah, I know they have.” He had seen them use theirs frequently, and Amber had watched him cycle the ingredients from his own only a short time ago.

“So, you’re trying to do it all yourself?” Miller asked. “You want to save the world alone? Take on all the danger by yourself? Do everything you can before asking someone else for a hand?” Miller was practically fuming now as he laid into Lee. “Is that why you sent my hard-working Paladins to level in some of the safest areas around Satterfield? And why you won’t let villagers leave the town unless they’re in pairs?”

I was only trying to figure out why you’re mad. What is with all the questions? Lee didn’t like where this was going, but he couldn’t not acknowledge the issue. “Yeah, kind of. Maybe I just don’t want people to get hurt because of me.”

“You think they want you to get hurt because of them?” Miller, for someone who often came off as an idiot, was being rather clever today. Lee never expected that he might lose an argument to the lumbering giant he often thought of as a friendly oaf, but he was rapidly running out of verbal space to maneuver.

“This is my mission. I’m the Herald,” Lee argued, leaning back against the wall after cutting up the second body. “The responsibility is mine.”

“It became theirs too the second they joined your cause. Let me tell you . . .” Miller paused what he was doing as well and gave Lee a hard, stern look. “You can try to be a hero, you can try to take on the world yourself and get revenge, get justice, bring order to a chaotic existence, but you’re going to wind up dead. Take it from someone who knows. Take it from someone who tried that route before.”

“Tried it before?” Lee didn’t know very much about Miller’s past, but he was beginning to get the idea that it might have something to do with why he was so mad. Lee had always suspected that something had happened that caused the Firbolg to show up late to the game--he had only been a level ahead of Lee the first time they met, and Lee knew that he only started several months after everyone else--but he had never asked. There must have been a reason Miller was so good with the spear when almost everyone else they ran into was more or less a novice. It was as if he was already as skilled as a journeyman or an adept with the spear from the moment they met.

“I don’t need to talk about it. I failed. I failed by trying to take on the world alone,” Miller said with a sigh.

“And you’re not doing it again right now? Shouldn't you be telling me what your troubles are if you have something you need help with? I’m always here for you,” Lee said. “Just let me know how I can help or who we have to kill. I trust you, and I trust that if you want someone dead, there is a good reason behind it.”

Miller raised an eyebrow curiously. “Without me even telling it to you?”

“I trust you,” Lee reaffirmed.

“But not enough to trust me with your problems?” Miller said accusingly, instantly switching the topic back to one where Lee was on defensive the first chance he got.

“I get it. You’ve made your point. You want to store these pieces in your inventory so that we can move along?”

“It’s fine now,” Miller answered. “Although, I’m still curious about what you’ve got in your inventory that’s eating up so much space.”

“Spare bacon, Books of Lee, some miscellaneous stuff I’m working on for the town.” There wasn’t anything that was a super-secret. It all just ate up space. The only thing that he was really hiding was the technology he was trying to port into this world. Without the ability to use electricity, as apparently that was against the rules of the game, he had been constantly racking his brain as to what he could ‘invent’ to reduce the amount of manpower needed to maintain towns like Satterfield. The less time people spent working their day-to-day job, the more time they could spend farming experience, combat skills and items from local mobs around the town. Right now, Miller’s Paladin Order of Lee numbered fewer than fifteen people. Even considering how tiny the town was, that number was still rather paltry. If Satterfield ever faced a real threat, there was no way they’d adequately be able to defend the place.

“I’ll be more than happy to hold all the bacon for you,” Miller volunteered.

Lee laughed, feeling the tension ease a bit. “I’m sure you would, but would I get it back?”

Miller’s own deep and hearty laugh echoed off the walls. “Depends when you asked for it back. Or how much beer I’ve had.”

“So, basically, if I give it to you to hold on to, I might as well consider it eaten by the end of the week?”

“Hey, don’t be that way. I’ll save you a plate no matter what. Can’t eat bacon alone.” Miller grinned, and Lee couldn't help but think that, if someone walked into the alleyway they were in, they’d be greeted by a rather horrid sight as they would find two men holding bloodied blades while chopping up bodies and laughing like mad men.

Once they were finished, they dropped off the corpse-filled barrels in a trash deposit and made their way back to the Hunter’s Guild where they ate and drank their fill for the rest of the night. Lee turned a few more drinks into beer with some of the leftover materials he had as a party trick, trying to work up a few more converts, but overall, they spent the time enjoying themselves at the end of a stressful day before retiring to their respective rooms. Amber didn’t say a word as she came back from a bath and crawled into the bed, and Lee crawled in next to her thinking the long day was finally over, even if it hadn’t been a full hour since the sun had set. It was as peaceful and mundane a night as any--until Ethan woke up Lee by sending pure waves of panic into his thoughts.

“What’s . . . What’s going on?” Lee sat up in bed while trying to figure out what Ethan had spotted. He swapped his vision over to the rodent’s and was greeted by the sight of at least twenty Firbolg and Leprechaun guards making their way toward the rooms they occupied. They were dressed in studded, black leather armor with short swords and bucklers, and they reminded Lee of a discount version of a Roman legion that couldn’t afford proper tower shields and had settled for whatever they could find instead.

Are you sure they’re here for me? Lee asked, studying the mouse’s view. The question was answered a moment later when they stopped right in front of his door.

“This that cledor’s room?” they asked.

One of the Leprechauns from the front desk snaked past them and into view. “Yeah, he’s in there with a woman,” the Leprechaun said before handing the man an almost comically-large ring of keys. “Please be quiet with the arrest though. The other guests are sleeping.”

Lee looked up at the group of soldiers and then swapped his vision back to his own. He quickly nudged Amber awake and whispered, “Put some clothes on, but don’t make a sound. Quickly. We don’t have much time, so I need you to follow my instructions without question.”

Amber nodded as she got up and started dressing, equipping her armor one piece at a time. I knew sleeping in the buff would come back to haunt me, Lee thought, as he did the same. He turned to Amber once he had his clothes on, remembering what Miller had said to him earlier. “Look, you know how to work an inventory,” he stated quietly.

She nodded.

“Good, take this and put it all in yours. They’re coming for me and me only. It’s the town guards, so I don’t think I’ll be in any immediate danger, but it’ll be best if none of this is on me. I don’t know what they’ll try and keep. They might search you since you’re here in the room with me, so split it up between Ling and Miller at the first chance you get, okay?” Lee ran through the instructions as he cycled his entire inventory over to Amber. After it was done, he swapped back to Ethan’s eyes and watched the guard as he fiddled with the ring of keys.

“Amber,” Lee spoke softly, reaching out and caressing her face.

Since they were in a room without a window, there were only two real options. One was to exit that door and fight his way out of the Hunter’s Guild, but at that point, he’d probably never be able to step foot in the town again. He’d be blacklisted at best and hunted down like a dog by bounty collectors at worst. The second choice was the only reasonable one, but it was still grating and bad: to turn himself in peacefully. It was the only way that he could hide Amber and shield the group. There was still the hope that they’d figure out what was going on and spring him from jail in due time too if that became necessary. He had just handed Amber a ridiculous amount of money, so he had a little faith that she’d be able to bribe the right person, grease the right palm and get him free. That plan gave a lot better odds than trying to fight twenty well-armed and trained soldiers to the death in a narrow hallway after being caught unprepared with his pants down.

“Yes?” she asked after Lee had gone quiet for a moment.

“Hide. Under the bed, somewhere--it doesn’t matter. I’m going to turn myself in. Let Miller know what happened. Save me this time,” he said with a wry smile. I get to be the damsel this time.

Amber bit her lip but then nodded and crawled under the bed, placing a pillow on each side of her so that she wouldn’t be visible without someone removing what looked like clutter that had been shoved underneath.

With her hidden, Lee got up and walked to the door. “Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” he asked as he opened it.

All of the guards looked a little surprised that he had heard them, but the closest guard to the door, a tall, red-haired Firbolg female that even Lee had to admit looked amazing in her leather outfit, just reached out and grabbed him. “You the uppity rat who has been killing off honest people? Acting all high and mighty like you’re better than them? The same upstart, cledor rat who has been undercutting the Berlong brewers by peddling your swill?”

“I don’t think I’ve killed anyone who hasn’t--”

Lee couldn’t even finish his sentence before a hand struck him across the face. It was so rough that Lee was surprised it hadn’t done damage. “If I wanted to hear from one of this town’s swine, I would have told you to squeal. You answer my questions with either a ‘yes’, a ‘no,’ or an apology for your incompetence and inability, you little worm!” The woman was carrying on and shouting at him as if she were a drill sergeant in a Hollywood film. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Lee responded.

“Now, answer the question: Are you the party responsible for murdering good citizens within the city limits?”

His gut told him that it’d be the same as going to a trial and pleading guilty if he confessed, so he had to deny it. Every bone in his body told him that she only wanted a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ so that he’d never have the opportunity to explain what had actually happened. Then, it would be treated as an admission of guilt in whatever court of law this city had, and it’d be an open-and-shut case. They didn’t have DNA testing, and they probably didn’t have trial by a jury of peers, so it was likely that getting quick confessions was their way of handling criminals.

The other problem was that if he said no, he needed an explanation. Wait, this language . . . it’s not English. It’s just me hearing and saying it as English. The translator is picking ‘murder’ instead of ‘kill’ for a reason. If we’re being strict about definitions, then I didn’t murder anyone. Even in this world, no one considers a self-defense kill to be murder. What are these guys playing at?

“No,” he said.

Another slap hit his other cheek. “Don’t lie to me. Weren’t you just about to confess a moment ago? We have witnesses who say you went into the alley where they were. They didn’t come out with you, and they weren’t found in the alley.”

And you know they followed us in there to kill us, don’t you? I get it now. Ling was right: We should have just killed the guard. Lee gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything.

“Go on, confess. Tell me you murdered citizens of this town so that you don’t waste any more of our time!” Her already too-loud-for-indoors voice was starting to reach the point where Lee really wanted to put a finger in each ear and turn his head to avoid potential spittle.

“No.” Lee repeated himself and closed his eyes as he knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, the slap hit him square in the chin, nearly lifting his body off the ground with its force. For a woman who looked more akin to a cartoon princess than a medieval knight, she packed one hell of a wallop.

“I’m being nice, and that’s more than your kind deserves. Why don’t you save me the damn effort and come clean! Tell me what I want to hear so that I can make both of our lives a lot easier! Or else! You have no idea what’s coming next!” she yelled. Lee could see a few of the other guards behind her starting to snicker, and a few were clearly trying to repress cackles.

“No,” he answered firmly. He had been beaten continuously by poor decisions in fights, Ling’s well-placed attacks during training, and Miller’s inability to control his strength when patting him on the back. There was no way that he was about to break from a verbal lashing.

“Fine. Have it your way, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, and don’t think you’ll get a chance at leniency again. I was just going to use you as a toy if you had been an obedient little dog and just told me what I wanted to hear, have you do the occasional chore and whip you when I’m bored, but since my kindness isn’t good enough for you . . .” Her face twisted around in disgust and she growled, “Drag this filthy rat down to the dungeon. Beat him if you like. He’s got a busy day ahead of him.”

This is all a complete farce. What kind of justice system is this? You’re punishing me for telling you I don’t need to be punished? Don’t I get a say in this? Shouldn’t I at least get to face my accuser? Lee’s urge to reach up and smack this woman was compounding by the minute, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Four men stepped forward, pushed him to the floor and placed shackles around his wrists. He received more than a few kicks as he tried to stand up, taking nearly twenty points of damage just from the small effort. They dragged him back to his feet after they got their kicks in, punching him in the gut one last time before yanking on his chains to pull him forward.

“That’s right, cledor rat. Come along now.” One of the guards jerked the chain shackling Lee, forcing him to stumble forward after the sudden yank.

“Don’t bother talking to an animal,” the Firbolg Captain cautioned as the guards passed her by, dragging Lee in tow. “It obviously can’t understand our good intentions.”

Lee winced when another guard hit him and did his best to not lose his cool as he was dragged out of the building in shackles just like the animal they were making him out to be. He knew that it wouldn’t help if he overreacted, and his only solace was that they hadn’t bothered to check the room after he walked outside to meet them. If they were treating him this badly, if they had been ready to imprison him from the start without giving him so much as a chance to defend himself, then there was no telling whether or not they’d rope in a girl he was with too.

He was keenly aware of all the people watching him as he was dragged outside. The Firbolgs and Leprechauns alike seemed rather happy--a few even occasionally raising mugs to the guards when they yanked his chain--but the Humans’ reactions were much less jovial. They turned their heads away, and the few who maintained eye contact stared at him lifelessly as if what they were seeing was an unavoidable and expected everyday occurrence. Lee’s eyes fell on one man in particular that held his interest: the same gentleman he had seen at the grocer who had insisted on buying all of Lee’s ingredients for him.

-----

After parading him through what must have been a two-mile scenic route through the city, they finally arrived at the prison. Unlike the rest of the town, which was by and large constructed from red brick, the prison was built from large, grey stones. It was completely surrounded by guards, many of whom were on patrol, and all were dressed in black leather uniforms with gold-colored etchings that were almost identical to those the guards behind him wore.

The guards marched him inside and brought him to an unceremonious stop in front of a large information-booth-looking structure. There were three in total, and there were guards behind each, processing prisoners as they were escorted through.

An old Human man sat behind the stone kiosk to which Lee was taken. He was the only Human in the entire room aside from Lee, and he stood out like a sore thumb. That, combined with the fact that he was the only person over the age of forty and that he had a beard which was so long it could have been wrapped around his waist and used for a belt, made him an anomaly. All of Lee’s problems lately seemed to have stemmed from Firbolgs and Leprechauns, and it made him uncomfortable to realize that only he and this old man were Human.

“He was arrested for murdering six Firbolgs by himself--single-handedly--while even his group watched on in horror. We didn’t know what he was capable of, so we decided not to take any chances,” the woman who had berated him spat angrily.

“I murdered no one.” Lee was quick to speak out and correct her, but as soon as he did, he was struck again. Yay, another 3 hit points gone! Over the course of the journey, he had dropped from 270 hit points when he first opened the door to 209 from the frequent kicks, jabs and other assaults.

The old man winced when he saw Lee struck. “You shouldn’t talk out of turn,” the old man advised without any of the hateful tone that everyone else used present in his voice. “If you just learn your place now, life will be easier on you.”

“What happens to me here doesn’t matter,” Lee said defiantly. “It’s what happens in the other world that’s important. If I’m here, doing nothing and accepting this injustice, then who is out there helping others?”

This was the first time he had spoken in his sleazy, charlatan manner and actually meant it. It didn’t matter what happened to him here. He could always find a way to go back to his world where he could rest, relax, have fun and play games. The way Augustus had explained it to him, Faith was only consumed in the back and forth of the trip. How long he spent there didn’t matter. He could theoretically stay there for all eternity, and it wouldn’t age him. If his understanding of the system was right, he could spend a thousand years there living out a good life without ever losing a day here. What worried him the most was that, if something happened to him here, or if he ended up being some pet toy for some crazy, psychotic, power-tripping guard captain, he didn’t know what would happen to Satterfield. He didn’t know what would become of Ling, Amber, Miller or any of the other companions he had spent time with here. This war of the Heralds seemed ridiculous, and the people involved seemed to be violent, kill-first-ask-questions-later types with no sense of humanity. That was the only reason he needed to make sure he got free somehow: so that he could continue helping people. That was why, regardless of how painful the abuse became, Lee refused to give in and tell them what they wanted.

“Other world?” The man’s eyebrow raised for a moment. “There is no other world for our kind. Maybe some time will teach you reason, loosen your lips, and make that tongue honest. You’ll understand what’s best for you in time, and then you’ll wish you had listened to them sooner.”

“That’s right. Listen to the man who knows better. He’s the only one that’s trying to help you out here,” one of the town guards said, punching Lee in the lower back as he did so. “But if you never want to be honest, that’s fine by me.”

What the hell kind of justice is that?

“Sir, I’m so sorry, but please don’t be so open about violating our prisoner conduct laws,” the old man said. He wasn’t telling him not to hit Lee, just that he needed to do it somewhere that wasn’t so open and visible. “We have rules for a reason.”

“Yeah . . . We wouldn’t want him to get away with murder because the arrest wasn’t handled properly,” another young Firbolg chimed in. “We have a duty to record all that happens in this building, and it all makes it to the judge. I may have not seen what occurred just now clearly--there was something in my eyes--but I can’t say that I saw nothing if others saw it happening too.”

The guard lowered his head. “I understand, sir. Won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, take him to . . .” The young Firbolg seemed to have taken over Lee’s processing. “Hmm . . . It seems that both dungeon blocks B and C are close to emptying out. How about we throw him in cell 264C.”

“But . . .” The old man on the other side looked like he wanted to interject, but his mouth just hung open in shock.

“Excellent idea, Jenkins! Your wisdom and foresight are absolutely commendable traits!” the guard captain declared. She let out a deep laugh, and other the guards joined in on her unexplained joke.

This can’t be good. Lee’s previous discomfort only deepened as he saw these twisted beings laughing so hard.

“I’m sorry, young man. There is nothing I can do for you now.” The old guy sighed and then opened his gate and let the guards through. “I hope you’re right. I hope that there is another world for you.”

Lee’s panic grew as he was marched down long hallways and constantly deeper into the building. The old man had made it sound as if he had just been transferred from a permanent prison sentence to death row. He knew there was nothing he could do to change anything right away, but as they dragged him down a flight of stairs and through the prison, he had both golems start scouting the area for every tiny detail they could find. He wanted to know everything he could about the prison just in case there was ever an opportunity to escape. He was still holding out hope that Amber or Miler would come up with something from the outside to help him out of this situation, but barring that, he was going to be as prepared as possible to make a move if it came up. Unfortunately, he quickly came to the conclusion that the prison was impenetrable. It was dark, dank, and the air holes for the basement level, which he was apparently in, were so small that even Ethan might not be able to worm his way through. And, to make matters worse, the cells were on the sides of long corridors that only had a single exit, which was guarded by at least four guards at all times.

“What?” Lee asked.

“Your inventory. Empty it out and give us the contents. We know you have a lot of money, so just hand it over now,” the guard demanded. “We’ve heard all about you swindling local merchants out of their money, so just be a good little rat and hand it over.”

“What? I don’t have anything in my inventory!” Lee said, refuting the claim.

The man didn’t bother arguing. He just pulled out a weird stone and handed it to Lee. “Put this in your inventory then,” he pressured.

Huh? “Why?” Lee asked, looking down at it curiously. He regretted the question as another strike landed across his face. Great, 204 hit points now.

“You know what it is. It’s an inventory check stone,” the guard spat and then sighed. “Your inventory has to be empty to put this in it. It’s standard procedure. We have to make sure you don’t have any devices, food, clothing or other items that you could use to break out or make your stay more comfortable,” the guard explained as if he were an annoyed airline stewardess showing him where the exits were for the fifteenth time in the same flight. “Just empty your inventory, hand over the gold to us, and we’ll make sure to check it in for you.”

Lee took the stone and placed it in his inventory right away, much to the shock and anger of the guards who had escorted him. His instinct to unload everything he had onto Amber had been correct. He hadn’t known what type of dirty tricks they would try to make him give up his stuff, but he had figured they would try something. “There. See? I don’t have anything on me,” Lee insisted. “I gave it all away to the church.”

“The church!” The guard punched him in the gut and then shoved him into the cell and slammed the door behind him. “You rotten little ingrate. Just keep making this harder for yourself every step of the way. You should have kept some money knowing we were going to come for you when you murdered those innocent men. Now, give me back the stone.”

Lee had no issues tossing the small object back, and he was somewhat relieved to see the door close: it meant that there was at least a semi-present wall between him and the guards, so he’d at least have some sort of warning before someone punched him again.

Lee turned around and looked at his quarters. There was a pile of straw on the floor, a bucket that Lee knew the purpose off but didn’t want to think about, and a very tiny, very slow trickle of water leaking from a crack in one of the walls that disappeared in the floor. The cell was a tiny ten-foot-by-five-foot box, and as Lee’s eyes darted between the pile of straw and the bucket, he felt like he was going to lose the delicious dinner he had eaten earlier.

Well, Augustus,” he thought glumly, “you were right: I’d much rather have spent my night in my real world. He did his best to lie down and get comfortable on the straw but quickly learned that it was impossible. The dirt floor was hard, the straw was itchy, and the constant dripping of water was an incessant annoyance.

“Little late now. Maybe tomorrow,” Augustus’s voice laughed in his ears. “I can’t believe you passed up my generosity and ended up here. There’s no way I’m going to let you off the hook with a simple ‘You were right, I was wrong.’ How about this: get me at least one follower, and I’ll renew my offer. That shouldn’t be hard. This is a prison, after all. Your fellow prisoners should have plenty of time to think and no way to escape listening to you, so do your thing and get me another member of the flock.”

That . . . Lee looked around at all the people whose faces were pressed against the bars as they stared at him. That shouldn’t be too hard. At least I already have their attention.

“Not tonight. Get some rest first. You’re going to need it,” Augustus’ words were ominous, and his tone was dark, making it obvious he knew something that Lee didn’t--and that made Lee’s mood sour all the more. After the beating he had just received, the last thing he wanted was to spend the night in this awful place, much less with a drunken, gloating god holding something over him. Sleeping in the other world and waking up here would have been much better. “Hey, don’t act like I don’t look after you.”

Fine, fine. I’ll get some rest, Lee grumbled to himself and Augustus. Shouldn’t take long at all to do a miracle and get a follower tomorrow.

“Oh, you’re right. This challenge might be too easy. I want you to convert a guard, one of the Firbolgs or Leprechauns.”

Lee’s jaw nearly fell off. What the? Have you not seen how much they hate me?! That’s not possible! Lee wailed his protest, but all he got in return was the sound of a chimp’s grating laughter.

Just when he thought Augustus was gone, though, he heard one final phrase from the troll of a deity. “I’m doing this all for your own good,” the god whispered patronizingly.

Fie! The heck you are! Lee shouted profanities and insults in his head, but it was no use. Augustus was clearly done talking to him for now, and so Lee finally took the shape-shifting god’s advice and went to sleep.

Chapter 4

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 17

Health: 270/270

EXP: 8019/10500

Primary Stats:

Power 27 (28)

Toughness 27 (28)

Spirit 27 (28)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 18

Intelligence 131 (137)

Honor 5

Faith 650

Personal Faith 222

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Novice Level 9

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 2

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Novice Level 10

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 1

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Lee woke up to a loud clanking sound coming from down the cell block.

“Cellmate 264, wake up! You have a visitor!” a voice called out.

264? Lee blinked his eyes open. He hadn’t expected to be able to sleep well, but between the combination of drinking and being beaten, he had passed out within seconds of closing his eyes. Isn’t that me? Lee brushed straw and, for some reason, fresh grass out of his hair and off of his clothes as he stood up.

“So, you’re the divine zymurgist that I’ve heard so much about,” the visitor said, already talking to Lee even before he came into view. “I hear you’ve been up to a lot in the short time you’ve been in Kirshtein.”

“More than others, less than some,” Lee answered, catching sight of a Human dressed in funny clothes that Lee could only assume was formalwear. He was wearing tall, black boots; frilly, red pants and gold, white, and black puff wear of the sort that was popular at court during the 1500s--back when they liked clothing to accentuate rather than slim down its wearer--and the only thing the man was missing to be right at home in an Elizabethan court was a cape. As much as Lee wanted to mock the man’s attire, one glance was enough to tell him that this man was both rich and important. There was no peasant in town that could put together garments like that or afford to keep them clean.

“How may I help you?” Lee asked at last.

“Mmm . . .” The man let out a disapproving breath as his eyes ran up and down Lee in a rather uncomfortable manner. “I expected more of you from all the stories.”

“I’m more than others, less than some,” Lee responded curtly. “If you’ve come for a beer, you might have to come back later. I’m all out of fresh water--and apparently luck--these days.”

“I see that. No, I came to meet you and inform you that I will be taking on your case in court--when it reaches court, that is. I’ve already put together a line of witnesses, written evidence listing the rather . . . financial motivation . . . of some of the guards to tell things in a certain light and character witnesses to vouch for you. I am Gregory, and I’m here to tell you that you are in good hands with me as your lawyer. I assure you: I’m the best that money can buy.”

“Ah, I see. That’s great,” Lee let out a sigh as he stuck his hand forward, only to have the man stare at it as if he were a leper. “I don’t know how Amber got ahold of you so quickly, but that’s such a relief to know she already found one for me.”

“Amber?” The man watched Lee’s hand until he finally took the hint and pulled it back behind the bars again. “I know no such person.”

“Ling? Miller?” Lee guessed, only to see the man still shaking his head. “Then . . .”

“I don’t bother myself with names. I was hired, and here I am. I assure you that, as long as I’m overseeing your case, you’ll be fine. The result isn’t etched in stone, but it should . . .” The man looked toward the entrance to the hallway, seemingly rather irritated by something. “It should be in a few weeks if . . .” The man again turned his head back to the entrance before huffing and shouting, “I say, did your superior not inform you I was here? I need a few more minutes with my client. Be gone until I’m done. You two know the rules: I am to have privacy with my client!”

“We know the rules, but your meeting is over. He’s scheduled for the first fight of the day. We have to get him cleaned up and in the sands at an hour past first light,” the guard answered back impatiently. “Way I figure it, we’ve already been nice enough just by allowing you talk to him to begin with when he’s got such an important date.”

“What? That’s madness! There is no way he could be slotted for a fight before his court hearing. He still hasn’t been proven guilty! What type of half-baked sideshow are you running here?!”

“Look, you old blowhard, Captain Delilah sent out orders last night. Cell 264 is to fight off against a Glubinsa an hour past first light. Now, unless you want to join him on the sands, you’re gonna have to cut your conversation off early!” The guard chortled at his own bad joke, obviously far too concerned with having his own little bit of authority usurped by someone he considered an inferior.

“Why, I never! What is your name? To be so disrespectful to a man of my stature!” the lawyer objected.

“Careful with those threats,” the guards sneered. “This ain’t the old days anymore. Things have changed, and your type should learn how to handle that change, old man. Otherwise, you just might end up on the sands with him.”

“This is breaking court procedure. You can’t have them fight to the death until after their trial! Everything about this is illegal! I will have your necks!” the man harrumphed and then turned and started walking out, leaving the two guards where they were to eye Lee up and down. “Don’t think this is over,” the lawyered called back. “I’ll get you out in no time now. They’ve broken too many laws!” But Lee could barely hear him, and he could only see his figure storming out thanks to his use of Ethan.

“Alright, hands against the wall, or we’ll gut you right here. Don’t try anything funny,” the guards warned, not that it would have made a difference. Lee had already thought about trying something, but Ethan could now clearly see ten guards stationed in the other room, who were just sitting around and talking. Even if he killed these two, healed up, and managed to get one or two of the other convicts to help him, there was no way he could escape.

Well, I guess I’ll just have to trust that lawyer. Even if it was certain death, he still was tempted to try breaking free since everyone made it sound like he had just been given a death sentence anyway. He knew for certain now that he was going to have to fight a Glubinsa to the death, whatever a Glubinsa was, and the only thing stopping him from making a desperate attempt at escape was the thought that he still had a chance at being a law-abiding citizen in the future.

Lee was dragged by the arm and escorted across the prison and into a large, sand-covered hallway with a heavy iron gate at the opposite end and two more guards watching whatever was happening on the other side of the gate.

“Fresh blood?” one of the guards asked, turning his head to look at Lee.

“Yeah, he’s set to fight a Glubinsa.”

“So, we need to arm him and get him out on the sand?” the guard asked, looking over behind him at a weapon rack that was near the gate. There were three or four each of almost every type of weapon a man could imagine from the dark ages hung there. Nothing as exotic as a battle poi, sai or kama were present, but everything from a halberd to a dagger seemed to be represented.

“We could,” the guard escorting Lee responded as he began unshackling Lee’s arms and legs. “We could do that, or . . .” The man looked over at the sands. “Well, his kind should be able to handle a Glubinsa unarmed, right? I’ve heard Humans are wily and clever, often using their heads to cheat and ruin others all the time. I’m sure he’ll think of something.”

“Him? Clever? If he were so clever, he wouldn’t be here in the first place,” the other guard responded, laughing at the idea. “We should give him . . . Something? Maybe a large rock?”

“No. He can earn some points and buy his first weapon the same way others buy their second and third.” The guard’s big, dopey ear-to-ear grin just made Lee want to punch him right in his Neanderthal-esque unibrow.

Lee might not have been particularly comfortable with killing innocent people, but his desire to free himself and kill even one of these guards was growing with every sentence that left that stupid lug’s mouth. He suddenly had other things to worry about, however. The two guards swung open the gate, and Lee was thrust forward onto the grayish brown sand of the colosseum. While the middle of the arena was wide open, there were nine thick, heavy pillars sprouting up along the outskirts, holding up a large stone roof that hung above the arena. The arena itself was circular, with a radius that appeared to be roughly a hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy-five feet wide. Other than the usual footprints and divots in the sand, the arena floor was relatively flat.

“Come on, god boy, show us a miracle,” one of the guards taunted.

Oh, right. Not only do I have to get out of this place, but I also have to convert a guard at the same time. Thanks, Augustus.

“So, uhh . . . Where is this . . . Glubinsa?” Lee asked skeptically, looking out at the empty sands. He was kind of surprised that there weren’t many spectators. In fact, the seats were barely ten percent full.

“Not even a weapon?” he heard one of the audience members call down. “They must really hate you!”

Yeah, you figure? Lee looked up to find a Human eating some type of food that he had never seen before, something he assumed was the equivalent of popcorn.

“Don’t worry. He’s in there somewhere,” the guard called to him with mock assurance.

“Huh? He’s in here somewhere?” Lee muttered aloud. The timing of the warning was fortunate. The moment he looked back to the sands, he saw a red, semi-transparent liquid shoot up from the ground beneath of him. He did his best to dodge by jumping back, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the liquid still grazed his right arm.

Lee hadn’t expected it to sting so badly or deal 13 points of damage the moment it struck him given that it was just a dark-red liquid, so the damage notification came as a bit of a surprise. He watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as the clothes around the wound corroded, though they didn’t completely disintegrate, and the cloth became riddled with holes.

“What the hell?” Lee grabbed the burn on his arm with his opposite hand, still feeling the sting. He studied the creature in front of him and realized that it was nothing more than a voluminous pile of gelatinous red slime. It seemed to move by collapsing in upon itself and then pulling itself up in the direction it wanted to move as it reformed, which meant that Lee was easily able to avoid its attacks just by backing up slowly--and he already knew firsthand that its touch alone was reason enough to keep his distance until he figured out how to handle it.

Really? What is this? The first fight of an RPG quest? Why is there a slime? I’ve been in this world far too long to just now be fighting slimes. Lee’s gamer instinct forced him to mock the life and death scenario he was already in.

Just as Lee was processing how he was supposed to fight this thing barehanded, now understanding exactly how sick the stunt the guards had pulled on him was, the Glubinsa upped the ante. It flattened itself completely out then shot up while spinning around. Four large globs of acid shot out from its main body, and one was aimed directly at him. He flung his body to the right, but he wasn’t quick enough. The glob grazed his left shoulder and shaved off another 13 points of health on contact.

“How in the hell am I supposed to fight this thing?” Lee screamed in frustration as he turned and ran. Over the course of twenty-four hours, he had gone from ‘Oh, this is happy-go-lucky! I’m so rich!’ to ‘And now you’re fighting to the death. Good luck!’ He was willing to take suggestions from just about anyone at this point, and thankfully, someone provided one for him.

“Come on, Human!” one of the Firbolg guards called to him with a laugh. “I thought you could perform miracles thanks to that stupid Human-loving god of yours? Just turn him into beer and drink him!”

“He’s not wrong,” Augustus’s whispered into his head. “You are capable of performing miracles, and I do love me some human women.”

You mean, like, with my own faith? Lee tried to keep a healthy distance between himself and the Glubinsa slime while doing the math in his head. He actually did have a handful of personal followers, and as a result, he was, in fact, a novice deity. He just didn’t know what all his divinity powers were. He knew that he had access to Life in Death, which wouldn’t help him here, but one other power was hidden, and there were two others which were still listed as locked.

“What? Are you an idiot? Your miracles are from me, not your little summer camp’s worth of followers. Use the skills I gave you to save yourself. I swear, for someone who has such a high Intelligence stat, you really don’t spend enough time thinking.” Lee couldn’t see Augustus, but he could have sworn that he could hear the god shaking his head. “Do you know how much trouble I’d get in if they found out I spent so much time helping you stay alive? This is as close to cheating in this game as it can get without us both dying.”

Huh? You only gave me a few skills. The only thing you did was give me the ability to make golems, get stat boosts from being drunk and craft beer. He didn’t see how either of the first two were supposed to be helpful in this scenario. Ethan would likely melt instantly if he came in contact with the Glubinsa, and he was short on high-octane booze at the moment--not that running around while intoxicated and fighting for his life didn’t sound tempting. The only other things he had ever received from Augustus aside from the Book of Augustus--which was basically nothing more than a glorified crafting manual that taught him to make fried chicken and a few other miscellaneous things--was his newly-discovered ability to make damn fine booze if he had the ingredients handy.

Wait . . . That’s right! I can craft anything so long as I have the Intelligence, the skill, and the materials! He looked around him, desperately trying to find something to work with. He could probably try to craft a stone sword out of one of the pillars, but he wasn’t sure how helpful that would be. The only thing I have here is sand, but if it has lime, silica or something else in it, the most I could hope to craft would be glass. Wait! Lee suddenly had an idea. He wasn’t sure what the sand was made of, but it was at least somewhere to start. He didn’t have the book on him, since he had left everything in his inventory to Amber, so he ran as far ahead of the slime as he could to create a large enough gap to give himself some time to work.

“What are you doing?” one of the Firbolg guards yelled. “We all know you’re going to die. Stop dragging it on.”

“Your kind should just be more accepting of your fate, scum!” another jeered.

There were a few more jabs at him, but Lee ignored them. Instead, he bent down and pushed his spirit into the sand beneath his feet. From there, he was able to use his mind to picture, and then subsequently form in real life, three small glass throwing stars. He had never held a throwing star in his entire life, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and he sincerely hoped that his bow training with Ling would somehow carry over to his ability to accurately aim this projectile as well.

You have learned the divine skill Glass Smithing. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. This skill improves one’s ability to create and shape glass structures using sand.

You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 133.

He carefully hefted them to test their weight then turned around and hurled one at the Glubinsa. It was pretty far off, and as Lee watched the piece of glass soar through the air, he instantly knew he’d never cut it as a sewer-dwelling, shell-covered, reptilian warrior. His throw let down generations of children who grew up worshiping the mystical arts of the culturally-insensitive television ninja.

Disheartened, he circled around the slime and away from the wall so that he’d have clear room to run once the Glubinsa got closer to him. He knew that he was likely to miss his next throw as well, so he waited until the Glubinsa drew close enough that he was confident he could hit it. While still laughably bad, his next shot sent the ninja star whizzing straight through the slime and into the sand on the other side.

Lee ran around the Glubinsa, drawing it out again, and then circled around and grabbed the piece of glass, a sly smile creeping onto his face. His makeshift projectile had passed through the creature without doing any real damage, but unlike his leather armor and skin, the glass didn’t seem to be vulnerable to the Glubinsa’s corrosive damage.

Okay, Augustus, I got you now. Lee grinned as he ran to the other end of the colosseum as fast as he could. Once there, he knelt down, placed both his hands onto the ground and began channeling his spirit in a large circle. He pulled and moved the sand, drawing it toward the center and condensing it as quickly as possible. As if it knew that Lee was setting up a trap, the Glubinsa began shooting acid projectiles at him again. Lee tried to dodge the globs of slime without withdrawing his hands from the sand, which resulted in an awkward type of squirming contest as he dodged the fly blobs, and he ultimately ended up with his other shoulder singed horribly by the caustic, corrosive jelly.

“Look at that!” one of the guards called out with a laugh, misinterpreting what Lee was up to. “The little Human is finally accepting his fate!”

“You think he really gave up? I thought he’d have more spunk than that. I kind of wanted to see him die kicking and screaming to his god,” the other guard added, laughing at Lee too.

Lee clenched his teeth and jerked his head at the last second, successfully dodging the slime’s next projectile. Unfortunately, the Glubinsa also spit out another quickly after that he had no chance of out-maneuvering, and he lost another 13 hit points when he was struck on his right knee. Lee felt like he was suffering from the worst case of ‘need to scratch my nose but both of my hands are full’ ever with the two new, irritated, itching wounds brought about by the jellyfish-level acidic slime, but he resisted the urge to retract his hands and touch them.

Lee cursed and continued pushing his mana through the sand, readying his trap. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of sweating, hoping and even praying to his actual god, the Glubinsa walked into the trap. Lee activated his crafting skill and started transforming the sand around the Glubinsa into glass. The process wasn’t very fast, but neither was the Glubinsa--and, thankfully, he had chosen an area of sand that was just large enough to prevent it from escaping. While the walls of the thin glass circle were rising, the Glubinsa shot its acid out, trying to corrode the encompassing crystalline wall.

Lee kept his spirit flowing into the structure, constantly reshaping the glass into a smaller and smaller prison. It was eating up his mana a few percentage points every second, but it was worth it as the ten-foot diameter shrank to six feet and then three feet, and the glass wall doubled and then tripled and then quadrupled in thickness. By the time he was done, he had safely enclosed the entire Glubinsa in a large, spherical glass ball without any room to move. It had cost him over a quarter of his mana, far more than he spent using Nectar of the Gods or making any of the cooking and crafting recipes from the book had ever taken, but he had essentially recast the skill over and over again as he reshaped the dome into smaller and smaller increments.

Your mastery of Glass Smithing has progressed from the rank of Initiate Level 1 to the rank of Initiate Level 2. Glass Smithing now allows for faster formation and manipulation of glass at a lower Spirit cost.

Due to improving Glass Smithing, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 134.

The glass has a slight red tint . . . Like the water he had transformed, the glass had changed color once it had been infused with his spirit. Is it stronger than normal glass?

“You might have trapped it, but the fight isn’t over, boy,” one of the guards said.

The other was too busy staring at the scene with his mouth hanging open to comment.

You really want me to convert one of these jerks? Lee grumbled.

“If you don’t let it out and kill it by sunset, we’ll have to kill you,” the guard continued.

He thinks that I’ll be corroded and die once I let it out. So, I either let it out and ruin my hard work, or I wait until sunset and get stabbed to death by pointy sticks. Maybe I could just throw the glass at them and let the Glubinsa swallow one of them hole? No, no, that won’t work.

“I see. Aren’t you the clever one . . .” Lee nodded to himself and scratched his chin as if he had a deep thought. “You’re certain that I’ll die if I let this beast out, right? And if I don’t, it gives you the perfect excuse you want to kill me. You think this is a win-win for you, don’t you?”

“You got the gist of it in one try, boy,” the guard taunted. His partner was still slack-jawed and staring in awe--and he wasn’t the only one. Over half the sparsely-populated arena had been shocked into silence.”

“You’re certain of my death then?” Lee asked.

“As certain as I am that you can’t pull another stunt like that. You’re out of tricks now, aren’t you, boy?” the guard said. “If you weren’t, you’d have used another one to kill it instead of just leaving it trapped. “

“Mmhmm. You’re positive about this?” Lee questioned, continuing to bait the guard. “After all, you’re better than me, and you probably can’t kill it, right?”

“Right. Why do you have to keep stating the obvious? Just let it out and hurry up and die so that we can move on to the next act,” the guard grumbled impatiently.

“Oh, I’m going to let it out, but what you want wouldn’t be very much fun for me. How about we make a bet instead?” Lee asked. “I take it that someone like you, someone of supposedly-wonderful moral character, isn’t the type to break his word, is he?”

The guard stared at him. “Of course I wouldn’t break my word. I’m sure you’re a dead man, but what do you have to bet with me?”

“I can tell you where the money is.” Lee shrugged, pretending as if it were a little thing. “The money I made from selling beer.”

The guard’s eyes widened. Even his partner’s did. “What do you want?”

“A good bed, for starters. A larger, cleaner room, preferably one with some space to stretch my legs. A pillow. Can you get that for me?” Lee asked.

“I can, but what’s the bet, exactly?” the guard asked hesitantly. He was likely able to meet Lee’s terms, but he’d probably have to pull a lot of strings to arrange it.

“I bet that, not only will I not die when I let this beast free, but I’ll even be able to touch it without being harmed. I’ll put my whole fist inside to prove it.”

“If you die, who will tell us where the gold is?”

“I’ll tell you with my last dying breath,” Lee said. “You know that I’m a holy man, right? Then you should know we don’t bend the truth or deal in falsehoods,” he lied. That’s all he had been doing since he took up the mantle of Herald.

“Fine. I’ll take the bet, but you need to hold your hand in for a few seconds. None of that quick in-and-out stuff!” the guard barked. It seemed he had already started to suspect that Lee had a trick in mind, but he wasn’t going to back out now that Lee had built him up and goaded him into accepting the ploy.

“Great. Now, give me a moment.” Lee chuckled to himself as he placed his hand on the sealed-off glass bubble. As he looked inside, he could clearly see the golden core that was the Glubinsa’s nerve center, the brain that controlled the creature.

Now, come on, magic liquor machine. Show me what you can do! Lee let his spirit flow through the glass container and into the Glubinsa. Just as he had guessed, the liquid itself wasn’t actually a part of the Glubinsa: the creature just had the ability to control any liquid around it. The liquid surrounding the core was just a compound that happened to be very acidic. Lee pushed his spirit further and further into the liquid, imagining the same process he had used to make beer and the purple mana and health potion. He didn’t specify beer, he just started imagining that the liquid wasn’t corrosive and was a liquor instead. He felt his spirit drain out of him as it cycled through options, trying to change the base ingredients into any alcoholic beverage possible. He was at a little under 80 percent when he started, but by the time the process was done, he barely had 45 percent left.

Your mastery of the divine skill Nectar of the Gods has progressed from the rank of Initiate Level 1 to the rank of Initiate Level 2. Nectar of the Gods now allows for the production of stronger and more delectable drinks at a lower Spirit cost.

Due to improving Nectar of the Gods, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 135.

As soon as he finished the process, he could feel the Glubinsa twisting in agony as it had trouble coping with the new alcoholic liquid in which it was drowning, trying to make it more acidic but failing. Lee used his magic to reshape the glass one last time, making a hole in the top, and reached his arm into the solution and grabbed the core, yanking it out of the beverage.

Just as he was about to crush it, ending its existence once and for all, he heard Augustus’s voice in his head: “Put it in your inventory,” the deity told him.

Huh? I can’t put living things in my inventory, Lee thought, but he still attempted it and was surprisingly successful. What the? How is this possible? Lee was curious until he realized that it wasn’t a living entity. It could move, it could attack, it could pull energy from its environment and make it into acid, but it didn’t need that to sustain itself. It was a construct, like a golem or a homunculus from his favorite video games, made by someone’s magic and spirit the same way he had crafted Little Ethan, and it was now his. This is going to come in handy later, Lee thought, wishing he still had the three pages from the last Herald on him as he did these death matches.

“I said a few seconds!” the guard called out.

“Oh, right,” Lee nodded, sticking one hand in for a few seconds. “This suit your tastes better?”

The guard stared in disbelief, his face now matching his companion’s.

“My faith in Augustus is far stronger than any acid or poison. Do you think this will harm me when he protects me?” Lee asked, taking advantage of their dismay to proselytize some more.

“That’s it. Pile on the compliments, you professional sycophant. If you keep this up, I’m just going to have to think of more ways to help you,” Augustus laughed into Lee’s head. “I just didn’t know your belief was so passionate.”

“That’s . . . That’s not possible. That acid is strong enough to slowly erode even iron! How are you doing that?” The guard’s now-saucer-wide eyes darted all across the container as if to see what the trick was.

Lee guffawed. “You’re not understanding, are you? My faith is stronger than the beast. It hurt me because I had yet to pray, but now that my prayers have been answered, what damage can it do to me?”

“That’s . . . N-no, no, this . . .” the Firbolg stuttered, tongue-tied. “H-how . . . How can a Human . . . That’s not right. A Human shouldn’t . . .”

“Watch and learn then,” Lee said, deciding to risk a few more percentage points of his mana as he reshaped the glass container once again. This time, he formed it into a glass barrel, which he was able to hoist up and drink the liquid from. Imbibing the monster wine was hard due to the size of the rim, and some of the alcohol spilled across his chest, but the effect must have been beautiful to watch as he could hear the entire crowd gasp while he swallowed several large mouthfuls of the once-acidic beast. This . . . This kind of tastes like . . . like a really delicious sangria. I didn’t think I’d get such a fruity flavor out of such an absurd slime. And . . . Lee looked at his arm where the burn had happened earlier as he put the barrel down. Sure enough, just like the purple liquid he had created earlier from water, this alcohol had a good amount of his spirit in it. And it healed him as he drank the beverage. The stinging disappeared, and his hit points climbed from 205 all the way back up to 270.

God, that feels so much better. Lee sighed happily with relief as the persistent, stinging pain subsided, and his body was enveloped by the serene, warm feeling of the healing spell.

“Now, you see that anything is possible with faith. Even the deadliest of fiends can be pacified and made inept should Augustus bless you.” Lee surprisingly felt completely comfortable lying to these people, guards and popcorn-eating spectators alike. You get off on watching innocent people fight to the death? Fine, then don’t mind me if I trick you some for my own purposes.

“I . . . I . . .” The guard’s stammering returned, and Lee noticed that he wasn’t the only one who was dumbfounded. There wasn’t a single person in the entire audience that was still talking as they stared at him.

“Will you get right on my accommodations in the jail?” Lee asked, not letting the guard keep up with his arguments. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to have lied before Augustus, would you? While he is kind to those with faith, he is equally cruel toward those who break vows before him, and you don’t want to know what curses he can strike a guy down with.”

The guard’s face fell. “I’ll take care of it,” he said seriously with a nod. Lee didn’t care whether that was because he was actually an honest man despite his horrible prejudices, or whether he was scared of being cursed. Lee was just happy that he was going to have a nice bed to sleep on.

“That’s great to hear,” Lee said. “I appreciate it. So, when do we leave? I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’d love to lay my head down now.” Lee said as he cracked his neck and stretched his arms as if making a point.

“Go back?” the guard asked in astonishment. This time, he was the one to laugh. “I think you’re mistaken: this was only your first fight of the day. Since you’re still alive, you get to fight the next challenger.”

“Are you serious?” Lee asked, absolutely aghast.

“It . . .” The guard looked down at the ground as he answered. “It’s not my choice. Just stay in the arena and wait for the next contestant.”

“Can I at least get a weapon?” Lee asked incredulously.

“Maybe you should start praying now to your god so that he has the time to hear your pleas. Your next fight is against three Devilkin, and I doubt even he can save you from their scorching flames.”

“And no weapon?” Lee repeated. “Didn’t you say something about earning points earlier? About being able to exchange them for a weapon? Well, where is my weapon for this fight?”

The guard snickered and asked derisively, “Didn’t you say that nothing could hurt you as long as you had your faith? Just do the same to these that you did to the Glubinsa, and you’ll be fine.”

Lee swung through the full range of the emotional spectrum, going from feeling happy and relaxed after having defeated what was a life-threatening foe to raging mad. He reached down into the sand and quickly used his newfound magical glassblower skill to craft himself a medium-sized shield and a scimitar. He dug up a stone and used that to form the handle and cross guard so that, if the blade shattered, it wouldn’t rip his own hand to pieces in the process. He wanted to do the same with the shield, but his spirit wasn’t infinite, and he was already down to 30 percent. He figured that he’d just discard the shield altogether if they were using metal weapons or something that would be strong enough to break his magically-reinforced glass.

The less-talkative guard snorted as he watched Lee create his sword and shield, but there was clearly a little bit of awe in his voice when he said, “See? And you wanted a weapon from us.”

“This still isn’t fair and reeks of foul play,” Lee muttered, sugar-coating his dissatisfaction as best he could. There were other things he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure the translator would have an exact match for certain creative variants of ‘fish monger’ that he wanted to spew in their direction.

Since the Devilkin still hadn’t shown up, and he was already ready for the fight, he decided to take a moment and look at his new creation’s stats while waiting.

Glass Sword of Plus One: grants a bonus +1 Damage. Damage: 3. It’s Fragile. Handle with care.

Glass Sword of Plus One? Is that because the skill is only plus one? Does that mean if I level up Glass Smithing to Initiate Level 2, it’ll allow me to make +2 weapons? Or does it progress at a slower rate? Despite not having the answers he needed, he was happy with the skill. It was the best piece of news he had received since he had arrived in the town. Compared to his ability to make money selling beer, this and any similar ability to craft could change everything. He would be able to change battles by providing superior weapons and armor to his people. This could turn the tides of a war. However, even as excited as he was about the future prospects of his talent, he was still rather depressed about the damage. For his level, most of the drops and weapons he received were nearly four times as good as this sword. The only saving grace was that, even with the low numbers, it gave him a ton of range he wouldn’t ordinarily have.

“What? Did you think being a drunk was all I was good for? Did you not remember that I’m not just the god of alcohol, but also of crafts?” Augustus’s voice echoed through Lee’s head, stressing the last two words. “That’s right, you little brat: You’ve got my blood in you. You’re far craftier than the ordinary drunk.”

Why do I feel like every compliment you’ve ever given someone was just a way for you to compliment yourself?

“Mmm . . .Three imps. This should be a fun one for you,” Augustus whispered back jokingly as three waist-high, pointy-eared, red-skinned creatures straight out of a dungeon-crawler walked out of the gate on the opposite side of the arena. “Easy, right? No problem for you, I’m sure.”

If you were me, how would you fight them? Lee asked. He was hoping to get some advice on how to handle the trio of long-tailed, beer-bellied miscreants who were busy cackling amongst themselves and talking in some weird, demonic dialect. Either the system’s translator didn’t work on some monsters, or it was just gibberish meant to distract the enemy. Their speech was not only high pitched and scratchy but also rushed, and the only thing that he could pick up on sounded like ‘Raka knee shoot!’ Or it might have been ‘Raka needs you’?

“Me? Oh, that’s a tough one. Half of me would want to summon up one of my empty, giant barrels of sake--because you can’t drink only beer if you want to stay in shape--turn into a massive hamster and then run them down from within the safe confines of my huge, makeshift hamster wheel. The other half of me would want to treat any form of excessive exercise as an odious offense and just morph into a T. rex so that I wouldn’t have to worry about whether they were chewy or crunchy as I gobbled them up like so many housewives have promised to do but have never done with their chihuahuas.

Lee had to stifle a laugh. You’re insane. You know that, right? Even if he was frustrated that his ancestor was of no help at all, the mental images were amusing.

“You asked how I would do it, and I told you. Don’t get upset that I’m not used to thinking about fighting in that . . . weird sort of hope-and-hit, helpless flailing you call combat tactics.” Augustus must have actually morphed into the hamster because Lee could hear the pitch of his voice getting higher.

“Why don’t you try changing shape? Who knows? You are my kid. If you could turn into a T. rex, this problem would be solved instantly.”

Lee shrugged. It’s not the worst idea. He focused his mana on trying to change his shape and felt his energy circulate within the confines of his body. Just when he thought he started to feel a change, nothing happened. Do I not have enough mana? Lee wondered, and as he thought about it, he heard a horrendous laughter in his mind.

“I can’t believe you actually tried it! Man, I thought you were intelligent! Come on . . . You gotta make me work for it a little more than that,” Augustus taunted. “Changing shapes is something any deity of my caliber can do. I’m the God of Alcohol and Crafts, not the God of Moose Men Helping Teenagers Defeat Brain Parasites. Seriously, it’s like you don’t think at all sometimes.”

You’re an ass, Lee grumbled and grated his teeth. That little attempt had cost him time, and now he had even less to figure out what to do about the imps.

“No, a hamster. But I did go as a donkey during my trip south of the border,” Augustus said.

“What’s he doing now?” the quieter of the two gate guards asked

“I think he’s praying to his god to protect him again, but who knows? It’s not like it’ll work. That fire of theirs burns everything to the bone, and water only causes it to erupt and grow faster,” the guard responded. “He’s a dead man this time for sure.”

The other guard didn’t seem to share his buddy’s enthusiasm when he said, “You’re just hoping that because you don’t want to pay up.”

Lee couldn’t help but think back to cooking fires. Wait, these people aren’t drilled over and over again at the start of every day for the first six years of education to stop drop and roll. If they got hit with a grease fire, they’d screw up and toss water on it. They wouldn’t know to either cover it in a substance like baking soda or sand or that you should just suffocate the flame instead of flailing about and letting it breathe. Lee felt a little bit relieved. Thank you, modern science.

There was no way that his shield would be able to block every attack, but at least he now knew what to expect. He watched as the imps approached, still cackling like corny costumed witches on Halloween.

“Alright, come on, you little bastards,” Lee taunted. Since he knew their method of attack, which was apparently an oil-based fire, he’d just use his glass shield to block as much as he could and stab at them. Despite the burning attack that he knew was coming, the imps didn’t look that threatening. They didn’t have sharp claws as far as he could see, they didn’t have thick spiked tails, and they didn’t even have jaws conducive to biting. If their mode of attack was just going to be fire attacks, he could put them out and heal his injuries back up. “Let’s do this!” he shouted, charging forward with his shield at the ready, not wanting to be as passive as he had been in the previous encounter. He was tempted to make glass walls that he could use for cover, but he didn’t want to use up all of his spirit in case he needed it to recover quickly.

The imps attempted to correct his cocky attitude when all three opened their mouths and shot out fireballs simultaneously. Fire rushed toward Lee, missing him but still sending a heat wave that left at least one hair on his head singed in the process.

What the hell? They weren’t kidding! How the heck am I supposed to stop, drop and roll when I’m surrounded by basketball-sized blobs of napalm? Lee switched course and ran to a nearby pillar rather than directly at the enemies. Okay, there are three of them, but they seem to move as one. If they stay together . . . Lee looked at his surroundings. Then I can use annoying arena tactic one, a warrior’s main tactic against any ranged fighter: running the heck away and hiding behind stuff.

“That’s it, kid,” Augustus noted, seeing what Lee was up to. “And to think: your mother used to be so worried that all you did was play video games. ‘If he keeps playing those games, they’ll ruin his life,’ she said. I wonder what she’d think now.”

Quiet, I need to focus. Lee did his best to silence his abusive ancestor’s backseat heckling. He flattened his back against the pillar. He switched his eyesight from his own to his golem’s, and he was able to see exactly what the imps were up to--and he watched as they stood in place for nearly five minutes. The wait was agonizing. He knew that he apparently had to kill them before sundown at the latest, or he would be shot to death by the guards watching over the colosseum, but he had a feeling that the bored crowds might call for an early execution if he just stood there playing hide and seek with the imps for too long as well.

He took advantage of the fact he had two golems and used one of them to scan the audience while he waited. No sign of Ling, Amber or Miller . . . While disappointing, he figured it was for the best. If they showed up and cheered him on, it would only implicate them in whatever nonsense he had apparently gotten himself involved in. Lee didn’t think for a minute that they didn’t show up because they abandoned him. He kept searching, but the only familiar face he managed to recognize was the creepy guy who had been popping up everywhere, standing in the back row with a hood on as if it did anything to hide his face. Lee wanted to turn and look at him directly, to yell out at him and find out why the guy was following him, but that wasn’t possible. Not only would it have alerted the man to the fact that Lee knew he was being followed, but it would require Lee to round the pillar and potentially take a giant ball of fire to the face.

I’ll just have to remember to hunt the guy down and milk him for information when I get out of here, Lee noted as he took a deep breath. He was starting to get bored, and a few jeers and boos from the Firbolgs in the seats let him know he wasn’t the only one. The only bright side of the wait was the fact that his mana had climbed back up by 2 percent. Considering how low the fight with the slime had left it, and subsequently how much mana had been eaten up making the small, two-foot blade of glass, he needed the break to restore the mana. This also left him with plenty of time to test exactly how fast his mana came back.

System, can you make a timer appear so I can count out the passing seconds?

You meet the parameters for me to assist you.

Will you please do that? Lee asked after five seconds passed and nothing appeared.

I will if you require it.

Please do. Lee felt a little annoyed at having to be so specific.

Certainly: 00:00

Alright, start it now. Lee watched as the floating set of digits popped up in a blue box in front of him. He marked the time when his mana was restored one percent and then waited to see when it would tick again. Every two minutes and forty-four seconds. That means I will recover a little over twenty-one percent of my mana per hour. With Amber, Ling and Miller around, he hadn’t had time to do this magical combat stuff before. He was always around other people, and he had become reliant on traps and traditional weapons like swords and a bow to kill enemies. This was the first time he had needed to actually depend on his spells to survive since he arrived in this world.

Well, with a little over two-thirds of my mana bar missing, it will only take four hours then to get it back. That shouldn’t be too hard at this rate. Either they probably don’t want to chase me around with their small legs, or they know what I’m up to . . . Or maybe they’re just so stupid they forgot that I was here the moment I stepped out of their vision.

One of the guards started yelling at the imps impatiently.

“You stupid imps! Kill the damn prisoner already!” one of them said.

“Yeah, burn the little Human alive!” a Firbolg from the stands shouted, chucking what Lee was relatively sure was a tomato at him but without enough force or accuracy to even come close to hitting him.

The tomato hit the ground with a splat, and the combination of verbal taunts and the thrown fruit were enough set the imps in motion. They started around the pillar in a wide arc, and fortunately for Lee, they stuck together in a small cluster just as he had expected. All he had to do was shimmy a few inches to the side at a time in order to match their movements and remain hidden from their line of sight. Since he was basically the center of the circle they were moving around, he was able to easily outmaneuver them with nearly zero effort.

Can’t hit me if you can’t see me! Lee remembered exactly how annoying this used to be in video games when he was playing as a character with a bow. All an opponent had to do was find any large enough object that couldn’t be easily destroyed by the in-game mechanics and then keep rotating around it so that the opponent never could get the game to allow them to take the shot. With Lee being as stealthy as he could and using the golems to show him a third-person view of the entire arena, he was easily able to do it with such perfection that he wondered if the imps might suspect he wasn’t even there anymore.

The game of cat and mouse continued on for another few minutes with one of the imps yelling at the other two and even going so far as to strike his companions as he urged them to move around the pillar faster and faster, but it was all to no avail. No matter how fast they ran or how often they changed direction, they couldn’t catch Lee. Finally, they gave up and did what they obviously feared most: they moved in closer, one wary foot at a time until they were right on top of the pillar.

Lee didn’t run away from them this time. He circled straight to them as fast as he could, whipping out his sword and slicing it hard at the first imp to come into view. He wasn’t expecting a lot of damage given the sword’s low Damage stat, and the second it struck, the sword dug into the imp’s flesh and then shattered faster than a dropped smartphone screen. Little shards of glass flew everywhere, sinking into the imp’s flesh. The other two creatures panicked at seeing Lee appear so suddenly and so closely, and they opened their mouths and shot out two giant fireballs point-blank as if they were acting on reflex. Lee threw his shield up at the last moment, although he had truthfully been expecting something of the sort, and hoped that he would be able to mitigate some of the damage.

The fiery liquid that sustained the fireballs splashed off his shield, splattering everywhere and even coating the imp he had just struck. The heat alone was enough to strip six hit points off Lee, but he had barely gotten hurt compared to the imp, which had been turned into something resembling a lit marshmallow. It screamed out shrilly in a combination of shock and surprise. Lee took the opportunity to quickly stick the imp one more time for good measure. The creature then bolted away before succumbing to its wounds and a scorching demise, collapsing in the sand a short distance away.

You have killed a Devilkin. Your party has been awarded 1 Devilkin skin and 500 Experience. Your share of this is 1 Devilkin skin and 125 Experience.

Lee pressed the attack, stabbing straight toward the next closest imp’s bloated beer belly with the remaining half of his crappy, broken sword. He wanted to avoid striking anything solid again out of fear of the remainder of his blade shattering completely, and sure enough, his sword sank in, easily ripping through the imp’s flesh when it was too slow to move. The imp twisted and turned, and its mouth opened and closed as it worked to process what was happening. Lee quickly pulled the blade out and pushed it in again in order to make sure that the job was done. In a desperate attempt to stop Lee, the imp grabbed onto his sword arm as the blade was entering his stomach and held it firmly. Then it exploded.

You have killed a Devilkin. Your party has been awarded 1 Devilkin skin and 500 Experience. Your share of this is 1 Devilkin skin and 125 Experience.

Lee gasped in horror, the adrenaline surging through his brain causing him to watch the whole thing in slow motion as the imp’s flesh separated and flames shot out. He raised his shield as quickly as he could, but the beast’s dying attempt to latch onto Lee’s sword arm made him too slow. Flames erupted outward from the combustible monster, covering over a third of his body. He closed his eyes as the last possible second, so he never saw the incinerating attack that burned through his gear and flesh alike, but he felt it. His pants were singed and scorched until they were little more than tatters and his right arm’s armor, as well as a good chunk of his chest and stomach protection, was simply destroyed.

His shield cracked under the concussion of the explosion and shattered into his arm, riddling him with small glass shards and letting flames pass through unabated. These fires weren’t as intense as the original wave, but combined with the harm dealt by the ruined shield, he had taken 243 points of damage. Lee thanked his lucky stars that the slime had provided him the chance to heal up. If he had gone into the fight with anything less than full health, he would have been killed on the spot.

You have killed a Devilkin. Your party has been awarded 1 Devilkin skin and 500 Experience. Your share of this is 1 Devilkin skin and 125 Experience.

The bleeding damage over time caused by the glass shards disappeared before it even showed up, but the fire didn’t cease at the imp’s death. Lee was speckled with glass, and he didn’t have many hit points left, but he knew that he had to put out the flames at all costs. Without even checking to see if the third imp had suffered as badly as he did, Lee dropped to the ground and rolled about in the sand, putting out the flames while using his mana to patch up the wounds on his body and heal himself. It wasn’t incredibly effective, and he was actually taking damage from the shards on his body being pressed back into him as he rolled around, but it was still better than nothing.

Once the fire was extinguished, he stopped and checked his condition. 19 hit points and 19 percent mana left. What are the odds? Lee looked at his bars and the area where the imp had self-destructed in his face. He caught sight of the other imp as well--or what remained of him. Looks like you didn’t do any better. He wanted to sympathize with the imp that had been taken out in his companion’s kaboom, but he just couldn’t. There wasn’t even a proper corpse left to sympathize: only broken bones, ash, and some still-burning flesh.

If I lie here, do you think they’ll take me for dead? Lee didn’t even want to move as he slowly circulated his mana to restore his health. That’s a thing, right? I can just play dead, and they won’t make me fight again? Lee winced as he felt his mana expel a shard of glass from his cheek. He didn’t want to admit it, that he was partially shallow and egotistical as he healed himself up, but he also really didn’t want any of these cuts or tears to leave a scar on any place too visible.

“Talk about an explosive finish,” Augustus chimed in from wherever he was watching. “That fight was the bomb.”

Lee closed his eyes and tuned out the rest of whatever Augustus added after those two awful puns in a row.

“You’re still alive?” one of the gate guards yelled over to him. “If you’re still alive, raise a hand or something, or else we’re going to have to shoot your body just to make sure you’re dead.”

What kind of stupid logic is that? Lee thought as he slowly raised his hand. “I’m just taking a breather. Is that not allowed either?”

“No, it’s allowed. You’ve also earned enough points for a weapon or gear if you want to select something before the next fight.”

“Another one? Seriously?” Lee yelled back. He could feel his headache growing. “Don’t I at least get a lunch break?”

The guard actually didn’t say anything as he stopped and considered Lee’s request.

“We’ll give you a lunch break if you can win another fight or two,” the guard shouted back. “You can’t get hurt, and your god is blessing you, so that shouldn't be a problem, right?”

Lee looked down at his skin. He looked like he was fully healed despite the fact he really wasn’t. The healing that he had done had closed over the punctures and cuts as a priority, so to the untrained eye, he appeared to be in perfect shape. He can’t tell I’m injured. He must think it’s another trick like when I stuck my hand in the once-acidic slime to grab the core, Lee realized as he stood up and dusted off what little remained of his pants.

“If I say I’ll be fine no matter what, will that stop you from sending more enemies at me?” Lee asked.

The guard shrugged. “It’s not us, brat. It’s the boss. He said to keep grinding you down until you die, so we have to try. If you don’t die, at least we won’t lose our jobs if we make a strong effort. Sorry it has to be this way, but maybe you shouldn’t have angered someone so powerful.”

Huh? “When did I anger anyone?” Lee asked. The guard had lost enough of his previous venom that their conversation actually felt somewhat amiable. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but he seemed to be more resigned about their respective roles rather than relishing in them.

“You seriously don’t know? You came into town flaunting the heads of honest Firbolgs, you killed honest sellswords, and you helped out suppressed Human establishments. How can you not know your own crimes? You’re clearly supporting a cause that is doomed to fail! And now you are doomed to die because of it. Don’t blame me. I’m just following orders.”

“It’s whose orders you follow that matters,” Lee shot back, hoping that his habit of being overly preachy and that his constant and terrible attempts at being philosophical might help. “We’re all following someone’s orders, after all, whether they are our family’s, our boss’s, our country’s, our god’s or even our own--but it’s whose orders that matter. If your boss is the type of man who cannot even uphold justice when you work at an institution responsible for the city’s justice . . . Well, just ask yourself what type of world you are helping to make and if you’d want your children or grandchildren to live there. Because . . . Well, who knows? They might be the next to stand where I am. Would you be okay if they died because someone was just following orders?”

Yep, I definitely need to attend church more often when I go back to the real world and take a damn philosophy class. This was the most horrible attempt at sounding smart or deep that I’ve had yet, he continued ruminating while he pulled out the slime-based alcohol and drank some to help fix the rest of his wounds and recover some of his missing spirit. The guard just gave Lee a weird look, something between morose and lugubrious, and then looked away without making any actual comment.

Wait, did that actually sink in at all? Lee’s interest perked up as he chugged down a bit more of the alcohol, and he felt the Drunken Appreciation skill kick in. Should I save some of this for tomorrow or later today in case I need it then?

The silence inside the arena was broken as the gate on the other side of the sands opened and a canine-sized, dragon-looking beast with tan, sand-colored scales covering most of its body stepped onto the sand. It had a protruding mouth like a gecko’s, golden reptilian eyes and a long, boney, whip-like tail. Lee watched in fascination as the beast entered the arena and then in shock as it propelled itself toward him much faster than the creatures in the previous two fights, drastically cutting down the amount of time he had to analyze it.

“What about the weapon?” Lee yelled over at the guards as he started moving toward his starting gate.

“Hey, don’t blame me! I told you that you had the points. You just took too long to come over and select one. Don’t you know we’re on a schedule here? The audience pays the colosseum per fight!” the guard yelled back.

With that hope dashed, Lee looked over at the pile of debris left from where the imp had exploded. He figured there could be something sharp, jagged or flammable there that he could weaponize.

He was back up to 108 hit points, but with barely 22 percent of his mana remaining, it wasn’t a pretty picture. Lee had been quick to translate his spirit into health, but that left him with precious little mana left to divvy up between healing further and making weapons, so he figured he had better find a weapon rather than make one at the moment if he could. Unfortunately, as close as he was, he still didn’t even clear half of the distance to the imp’s remains before the mutt-like, scaly-lizard-thing landed on his back, knocking him down. It apparently moved even faster when it saw an opening to strike. Lee took the roll that had practically been forced on him along with the 23 points of damage and used the momentum to kick the beast off of him. He tried to spring upright after the gymnastic feat and get back on his feet, but the thing was on him as quickly as he had knocked it off. It pounced at his chest, digging its claws into the last remaining vestige of his upper armor and tearing away another 14 points of health. The meager upside to the continuing attacks that left him doing his best to hold onto his 71 hit points was that they let Lee know the creature’s level wasn’t that high. If it were, between the earlier attack and this one, he likely would have been dead already. Lee didn’t know how to handle the creature, and he tried to fling it off him, but it wasn’t of any use. The lizard-dog just dug in deeper and clawed out another 14 hit points.

Well, screw you. Lee was so incredibly frustrated that he couldn’t make it to the remaining glass shards or bone fragments and use them as a weapon. He hadn’t moved very far away during the break, but the creature was just too fast and was able to keep him pinned down. Unable to shake the thing off, he threw his own body back as hard as he could and pulled the creature with him. He took another 4 points of damage in the process, but the sand whelp let loose a high-pitched squeal, retracted its claws and dashed away from him. It ran about twenty feet away, circled around and then charged in for another attack. This time, however, Lee shifted his weight and dodged the attack when it pounced.

There we go! All that time fighting wolves is finally coming in handy! Lee took a deep breath and focused, trying to keep his confidence up as he watched the sand whelp. I can do this. It’s coming at me just like a dog, and I’ve fought dozens and dozens of wolves much bigger than it. Some were even a higher level than it too. Although . . . none of them could think. Is he . . . planning something?

As if to answer Lee’s question, the sand whelp started moving in a zigzag pattern, no longer charging directly at him. This time, instead of pouncing, it twisted its body around and whipped its tail at him at the last moment. Lee caught the tail on his left arm, the attack fortunately striking the small shred of leather armor that was still intact and reducing the damage taken to only 8 points, but the strike still stung like hell.

Crap, it’s going to whip me to death! Lee wailed as he realized what its plan was just as it scurried around and came in once more. After being struck by its long tail, he could tell that the little bony bits sticking from its end were not only rigid but sharp and designed to cut. The creature skid to a halt in front of him and allowed its momentum to slide it along the sand past Lee, whipping him in the back as it moved past. The entire thing happened so shockingly fast that Lee couldn’t even dodge it. He ended up losing 14 more hit points this time, and a system message popped up to let him know that he was now bleeding for 2 hit points every 3 seconds just as his back was slashed by the sharp, protruding bones.

“I thought you couldn’t be hurt? What happened to your god?” the guard taunted. “Wasn’t he supposed to protect you from all damage?”

“Maybe the Sceilewolf is just more blessed by his god. Between a Human and a Sceilewolf, I can tell you which I’d prefer,” one of the audience members called out loudly, laughing at Lee’s situation.

Forget you two faithless fiends, Lee cursed, even though he didn’t have any faith in being invulnerable or Augustus helping him at all either.

He watched as the Sceilewolf circled again, its snake-like tongue flickering out as it changed direction and went in for another attack. It moved too fast to predict where it would strike next, and that was the biggest challenge at the moment, but he reasoned that the clever little lizard was probably going for his back again, so he whirled around as soon as it started moving forward, reaching out his arm as he tried to block the incoming attack. He ended up taking another 14 points of damage as its spiny tail struck him across his chest instead of his back, and the bleed jumped from 2 to 4 hit points of damage every 3 seconds.

The bleed ticked for the second time, shaving off the promised 4 points of damage and leaving him at 25 remaining health, and some distant part of his brain told him that he should be more panicked than he actually was. He was so focused on the whip-tailed assailant in front of him that he wasn’t even thinking about how many hits he had left before he died. He twisted to the side while holding his hand out exactly where it had cut him on the chest last time and turned as the creature lunged in.

Success! He absorbed the blow on his bare hand and took another 14 points of damage, leaving him with only 11 health left, but he was able to grip hard onto the tail, positioning his hand as to avoid the sharp, bony protrusions, and stop it from escaping away. He quickly grabbed it with his other hand and heaved back, dragging the monster with him as he moved over to the closest pillar. Moments later, Lee lifted with all his might and spun the creature around as if it were a ball attached to the end of a rope. He felt a wave of nausea strike his stomach as he spun around, but a moment later, the lizard crashed head first into the stone pillar. He dropped the reptilian beast to the ground, and without letting go, he spun back in the opposite direction and repeated the process. The bleeding damage ticked again, dropping him down to 7 health.

You’re cutting it too close, you stupid little jerk! Lee cursed himself in his head as he slammed the reptilian beast into the pillar twice more in quick succession. Another 4 points drained from his health bar and left Lee with only one more tick till death just as a notification popped up.

You have killed a Sceilewolf. Your party has been awarded 5 Sceilewolf scales and 872 Experience. Your share of this is 5 Sceilewolf scales and 218 Experience.

Divinity Power: Life in Death activated.

He stood there panting with 3 hit points left. Why does it always feel like it’s coming down to the wire each time? Lee grumbled as he began transferring his mana into health so that he would have a comfortable buffer before the guards or someone killed him with a slap on the back.

He felt a weight slowly ease off his chest as his health bar climbed back up. He had wanted to save some mana for a last-resort trick since he had so little of it left, but after that fight, he just didn’t trust the next one not to kill him instantly. There we go. Near zero spirit left, Lee thought as he looked at his stats. But that feels way better, he noted, trying to chug the remaining alcohol from the slime. He now had 168 hit points, and even if his mana was kapootz, that gave him a good bit of breathing room.

“Umm . . .” the guard who had been taunting him began. “We need you to exchange your points now,” the guard said, rather insistent this time.

“Oh, for a weapon. Yeah, I need a sword. How many points do I have, and how many points is a sword?”

“Well, the point value on swords varies. A standard iron sword is only 5 points, and you have 19. You earned 5 points for the Glubinsa, 5 points for the Sceilewolf, and 3 points for each of the Devilkin. Unfortunately, I can’t let you exchange your points for either sword,” the guard said.

“What? Why can’t you?” Lee asked. “If I have the points, just give me a sword. Do I have enough left over for a shield? Is there a better sword I can buy?” Lee questioned.

“Well, the problem is that the only clothing we have here is leather armor, and for a chest piece and pants, that will cost you about 15 points: 10 for the pants and then 5 more for the chest piece.”

“I think I’d much rather have a weapon and a shield than armor. There isn’t much left of the stuff I’m wearing, but it’s still not as important as a weapon,” Lee insisted. “So just give me the sword. Let me see the selection. Those are the rules, right? You can’t break the rules, can you?”

“Yeah, no. I just got word from the higher ups. It appears that several noble ladies have insisted you buy armor instead of a weapon.”

“So, they insist I die, and I must die? Give me the weapon.” Lee was being indignant, but he felt he had every right to be in this scenario. Who the heck do these noblewomen think they are to demand I spend my hard-earned points on armor when I want weapons?

“Please don’t make me say it out loud, sir,” the guard said, unusually polite given his continuous rude outbursts.

Since when am I a sir? What don’t you want to say out loud? That you’re being unfair, and this isn’t just at all? If you’re going to be a villain, then just be a villain and say it! Don’t hide behind the requests of noblewomen!

“If you don’t want to admit to your faults, then just give me the blade!” Lee insisted, his anger continuing to grow. “I’m fine with that.” He had no idea when the gates would open, and he desperately needed a weapon. The last fight he was in would have been ten times, if not twenty times, easier with a weapon. There was no way that he would have lost so many hit points if he could have had the reach and sharpness of a good sword against that thing.

“Sir, I didn’t want to have to say this, but after the last scuffle, your lower clothes are torn and burned away so badly that your private parts are on display. There are women and children in the audience. Kindly pick out a pair of pants and a shirt and put them on so we can carry on with the fight.”

“What? Are you serious?” Lee blinked. “You can send me to my death, you can watch and jeer as a wild animal tries to kill me and eat my corpse, but you have an issue with my privates?” Lee wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He came from a society where sex and nudity were still somewhat taboo, although violence was pretty easy to find on TV and in games, but this level of prudish delicacy while enjoying such bloodthirsty sport was just absurd.

“Should I wave it around for them to see? Would that help more?” Lee asked, backing up and making sure the whole colosseum got a good view. “Go ahead! Take it in!” Lee shouted with a raucous laugh. “Why don’t we just compromise? Give me some pants and a weapon. That’s fine, right? After all, I came into the arena with a working pair of pants. It's your stupid games that took them away.”

“Look, you ungrateful Human, I’ve been trying to be polite. Here, take the leather chest piece and pants and put them on, or I’m going to order the colosseum archers to shoot you dead where you stand. Why must you constantly make things difficult when I’m trying to be nice?” The guard grabbed a leather armor set before opening the gate and tossing it through. “Just learn to be a little respectful, you ingrate.”

“Hard to be respectful when you’re sending me to die without a weapon!” Lee countered, but he still went to put on the armor.

This is actually an improvement. He had been wearing a chest piece and pants that gave him 12 and 15 armor respectively before, but the stats on these were much higher. Both the pants and the chest piece were 20 armor, and they each added a bonus of 2 additional armor against light projectile attacks.

“Here, this too.” The other guard, the one who had been much more silent and less obtrusive and insulting, tossed him a pair of matching leather shoes.

“What are you doing? He doesn’t have the points for that,” the mouthy guard said.

“It’s only two points, and he is going to his death without a weapon. It’s not like I won’t be able to collect them back,” the guard retorted. “Just let him die with a good pair of shoes, okay? Even if he is a Human, he deserves that much.”

After Lee put on the matching shoes, which were 20 armor and also added +1 to his Sneak skill, Lee made sure to thank the guard that had given him the surprisingly-exceptional footwear.

Okay . . . fine. It’s not a weapon, and this whole thing is unfair, but since he’ll catch flak for giving them to me, I need to treat him well in the future as thanks, and these shoes are pretty good. He didn’t think he’d ever want to help one of these city guards out, but this particular one had at least not been too bad.

“So, who am I fighting next?” Lee asked the guards.

“Ah . . . You’re fighting . . .” the guard began, “He’s the undefeated Leprechaun of Lumperknell.”

“Huh? You’re sending me against an undefeated fighter without a weapon?”

“Good luck,” the mouthy guard said, sneering at him.

“Don’t ruin the shoes. I need to put them back into storage when you’re done with them,” the other guard also added.

“Thanks,” Lee said to the guard that had given him the freebie and then just frowned at the other one.

It was at this point that Lee started using Little Ethan to see his next competitor. The average Leprechaun that Lee ran across was generally lanky, about the same height as a Human, but never muscular. This one, of course, was the exception. He was exactly the same height as Lee, but he unfortunately wasn’t at all lanky. His muscles were gigantic. He looked like a men’s fitness magazine’s front cover dream model. He didn’t have a chest piece on and was wearing a chainmail skirt, but his weapon, a huge longsword, was impressively massive. He also wore a metal plate helmet that was without a single dent.

I have to buy a chest piece, but he doesn’t even have to wear one? That’s nonsense. What kind of system is this? It’s too bad-- Lee had started to complain about this scenario and why he didn’t have a weapon when an idea struck him. With that, he sprinted toward where he had lost his glass weapon and shield, reaching down and grabbing the stone hilt and tiny shard of glass that was still hooked on the hilt before running to a second location. It’s too bad indeed. Lee smiled as he thought of his plan. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be the first one to put a dent in his undefeated record.

Lee got to the location he wanted before Silinus even left the gate on his side, but when the Leprechaun stepped into the arena, he took his time, something that Lee was grateful for. Every second that passed was one more he could use recovering his mana and spirit.

“People of Kirshtein!” Silinus called out as he left the gate. “I implore you to give this fiend a weapon. Let this filthy Human scum know that, no matter what the case, he will never be as good as his superior counterparts. No matter how many monsters he slays, nor how great his blade may be, he will never be able to reach me with it!”

That’s it, buddy. Keep talking. Keep bragging and let me build back up my mana. He was so happy with his idea, sure of his victory, but that didn’t remove the insecurity that came along with a low mana bar.

“Well, it seems they won’t hear my request.” The Leprechaun extended his blade, pointing it at Lee, and his high-and-mighty, greater-than-all attitude soaked through his pompous voice. “But I must kill you nonetheless. Just know that your death was certain, and their lack of kindness on these sands changed nothing! Your defeat was written in stone, and your destiny is to die before me. Let the world know that you shall become the three hundred and forty-fifth man to die on these sands by my hand!”

“Come on now, extra. Don’t ruin your first gig by overacting,” Lee taunted, using a line he knew the gladiator wouldn’t understand. “Why don’t you just come over here so I can save the camera getting ham grease all over it. You’re a terrible tough guy, way too clichéd.”

“Camera? Acting? What are you talking about? I’m here to kill you! I’m here to bath these sands in your blood!” Silinus shouted every word so that no one in the audience would be unable to hear him. “Give your meaningless life the glory of dying by my hands! You should be honored because, even if you lived a hundred years, this is still the highest honor your kind would ever be able to attain.”

“You this. Your kind that. I’m really getting tired of hearing all of this stuff. Why don’t you just come on over and accept your death? Why must you shout such boring lines to the audience? Are you trying to put them to sleep before the show?” Lee wasn’t great at insulting people, but he still tried his best at repeating some things he had heard on the Internet during his days gaming. If only most of the people throwing insults had been over the age of fourteen, maybe they would have given me better material, Lee mused to himself. Even if he didn’t spar as well verbally as he did with an actual blade, however, his toying with Silinus still did its job. During all the banter, Lee had meandered from the exploded imp over to the charred remains of another and started to casually do a little poking around with his foot, keeping one eye on the blowhard Leprechaun who was inadvertently giving Lee more than enough time for his plan.

“Fine. You disrespect me, but I shall still honor you with a good death at my hands. Now, come at me! Show me what a blessed man can do before he dies!” Silinus shouted, stopping forty feet from Lee.

“I need you to move closer. Could you charge at me or something? Really put your effort into killing me?” Lee was completely honest as he stared at Silinus. “It’s not that I can’t kill you there, but I just . . . I didn’t get much sleep, and I’m feeling lazy at the moment. Please come closer so that I can kill you with minimal effort.”

“You . . . you stupid, pretentious moron! I am trying to give you a decent and honorable death, and you insist on looking like a clown before the executioner’s axe? Well, then fine!” Silinus yelled even louder, hoisting his sword in the air and charging straight at Lee.

As soon as he saw Silinus get close enough, Lee bent over and snatched up something from the ground at his feet. He said a little prayer, tossed the strange item toward Silinus, and then threw the remaining glass shard on his blade at it while it was still in the air before jumping behind the nearby pillar and shielding his body from the expected aftermath. This was the crux of his whole plan. Of the three Devilkin, two had been blown to pieces, but one had died slowly from fire and bleeding damage away from the other two. While most of its flesh had burned to smithereens, his bones and at least one large fluid-filled sac weren’t. That sack held the kaboom juice from the imps. He had known instantly how it would work: once its fluid was exposed to air, it was only a split second away from igniting in a devastating explosion, much like the one that had nearly ripped him to shreds earlier.

There were so many ways his plan could go wrong, but before he could even fully get behind the pillar, he could feel a wave of heat and concussive force slam into his side and rip 27 hit points off of him. It wasn’t much, but that was rather impressive considering the fact that he was over forty feet away from the imp sac when it had gone off. Without a shield to block the liquid from dousing his body, and due to the fact that he had caused the explosion--meaning Life in Death wouldn’t save him from damage over time--he immediately dropped to the ground and started rolling. The fluids that soaked his body and threatened to burn through his newly-purchased armor were quickly extinguished.

You have killed Silinus the Slayer. Your party has been awarded 3457 Experience. Your share of this is 865 Experience.

You have gained the title Cheat Code Fighter for using a shocking level of trickery and unprecedented guile to overcome an opponent multiple levels higher without sustaining damage. This title permanently confers +2 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 137.

Cheat Code Fighter? Lee hated being called a cheater, but the Intelligence boost was always welcome. After all, higher Intelligence meant that he would learn skills faster, and his skills were the one undeniable advantage he had. He might not be a higher level or have better damage or even speed than his opponents, but the skills gave him a decided edge against many foes. Because of his high Intelligence, he had managed to reach proficiency with sword fighting and other skills that most people his level wouldn’t come close to.

Lee pushed himself up from the sand and walked over to survey the scene. There were dozens of small pieces of the once-mighty Leprechaun, but there were no signs of his sword. His armor was shattered, and bits of it were strewn about along with scraps of the erstwhile champion. Guess that explains why I didn’t get loot? Or maybe fighters here aren’t rewarded with weapon and armor drops? What a mess. “Uhh . . . I think you should have made him wear something with better flash protection too,” Lee said, laughing at the corpse. “That is, if you’re really worried about fighters displaying their goods to the audience.”

I really shouldn’t laugh at the dead, but he deserved it. Honor me by letting me die by his hands? What type of nonsense is that? Who the heck wants to be one in a long list of names of people who died miserably in front of others for money? What kind of dumb logic is that? That’s almost as bad as the reasoning that says showing a body part half the population is born with is more offensive than murdering someone with an exploding imp gland for everyone to see.

“Oh, wait, forgot to ask . . .” Lee looked over as he cycled his mana to restore the small fraction of health that he had lost from the explosion. “Does this earn me enough points for a weapon yet?”

Each of the guards looked like they wanted to say something, but nothing came out. They just stared at him.

“You said he was undefeated, right? So, he must have been worth a ton of points, right?” Lee asked.

“H-he,” one of the guards stuttered. “He was worth thirty points.”

“Excellent! Well, my clothes are still intact, so can I please pick a weapon now? Maybe get that lunch break I was promised?”

The guards and audience just gawked at him incredulously. It was as if no one in the world had anticipated that an unarmed, low-level Human could pull off a stunt that would kill the undefeated champion of the arena in less than a few seconds--and with a makeshift monster bomb at that.

“You know,” Augustus chimed in, “the only real downside to that victory is that now we’ll have to wait to find out what your little converting liquids into alcohol trick would have done to that imp’s jet-fuel insides. After that slime, I really wanted to go on a multiple-world tour and convert every liquid-based monster into a liquor. What do you say to a father-son-style bonding trip? We can hunt down one of those imps and then see if their napalm turns into something spicy when you hit it with your weird version of my crafting skill.”

You want to go on a vacation with me? Lee chuckled. Really?

“What? It’s been a while since I’ve had a good drinking buddy or tried out a new alcohol I liked. Don't say ‘no’ just yet. Think about it a bit. We’ve got an entire world to convert and a game to win first.”

Why do I feel like you being nice is always scarier than you being a jerk? But he didn’t say no to the offer. He didn’t know when he’d still need Augustus’s help, and he did know that he wanted to go back to earth even more now than he did last night. If he was going to survive this trip through a prisoner’s worst nightmare, he’d need to brush up on some fighting skills and learn to use his weapons from an actual professional.

“Stop being so paranoid. We’re family! When I mess with you, it’s because it’s my job to tease you,” Augustus said patronizingly.

“If you want lunch, fine. I’ll get someone to escort you to your . . . lunch table,” the guard finally answered, bringing Lee out of the quick back and forth with Augustus. “As for the weapon, you can pick a weapon when you get back. We’ll have to up your fights anyway, since your opponents were apparently too easy. Can’t have the audience paying good money to watch one of you cledor rats have an easy go of things.”

“You want me to take him?” one of the two guards at the other end of the hallway asked.

“Actually, can you take over my post? I want to make sure he gets the treatment and lunch he deserves after embarrassing me in front of the colosseum personally.”

Lee cringed. Please tell me I’m not going to get hit again. I’m really tired of getting hit. He wasn’t sure what was waiting for him, but he knew with the way that guard, who had yet to give him an inch of consideration, was smiling at him, he wasn’t in for a great time.

Chapter 5

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 17

Health: 270/270

EXP: 9352/10500

Primary Stats:

Power 27 (28)

Toughness 27 (28)

Spirit 27 (28)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 18

Intelligence 137 (143)

Honor 5

Faith 670

Personal Faith 225

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Novice Level 9

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 2

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 2

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Novice Level 10

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 2

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

After being led out of the arena and along a hallway, up a staircase, and then down another corridor, Lee finally arrived at a destination that was, surprisingly enough, actually above ground. The drab room he ended up in was even more spartan than his original cell, lacking anything on the walls or floor to differentiate it from a solid stone box, and was only slightly more livable than some of the dorm rooms he had occupied during college. Unlike those, however, this was a very large box. There were four light-colored wooden tables, each with four chairs surrounding them, and there were seven Humans sprawled out on the hard stone floor who appeared to be sleeping soundly.

Rather than the occasional torch that had been used for light in the dungeon below, the room relied on sunlight that filtered in from metal slats placed near the roof. The final two feet of the ten-foot wall contained several of these, and they allowed just enough light in to stop the room from being completely dark.

“Well, here we are: your new home. See? It’s a bigger room than the last one, just like you wanted,” the guard laughed. “And it’s even got fresh air. I’m sure you’ll fit right in here.” The guard pushed Lee forward, forcing him into the room. “Don’t worry, the bed here is much more comfortable than the one in the cells. You can even sleep on one of the tables if you want.”

Lee’s face fell as he realized the little victory he had won with his bet in the arena had just landed him in even hotter water. “That’s not what we agreed on,” Lee stated.

“It’s the best I have for one of you filthy cledor rats and more than you deserve. I shouldn’t have to keep my word to one of your ilk, but putting you here with your own kind is more than charitable and better than you deserve.”

Lee’s eyes narrowed as he watched his jailor shut the door behind him and lock him in his new cage. “What about my lunch?”

“Oh, right,” the guard droned derisively, his tone grating on Lee’s ears. The lout reached into a pocket and pulled out a heel of bread about the size of Lee’s fist and shoved it back through the bars after slamming the door shut. “I forgot that His High Holiness needs a proper meal. Eat up, priest. Don’t even bother crying to someone that I shorted you on the meal. I’ll just say you lied, and who’re they gonna believe? Me, a respectable and employed Firbolg? Or you, a convicted, con-artist Human?”

Lee had mistakenly thought that his miracles on the sand--if they could be called that--would have convinced them to be a little nicer. Unfortunately, it seemed as if all of his efforts and hard work had crumbled.

Did anything even make headway with them? Lee sat down with the piece of bread and looked up at the rather large openings near the roof. They weren’t big enough for a grown man to fit through, but a small child might make it. Lee guessed that they weren’t worried about anyone trying to break free given the thickness of the steel and the height of the bars.

“You can’t get through them,” a voice said as if reading his thoughts. It came from a man who looked to be somewhere between fifty and sixty years old with gray hair, gray eyes, a long nose and a thin frame. “Even if you did, there are between ten and twenty guards depending on what time the shift is just outside, and they’re always itching for an excuse to kill you. Don’t do it.”

“Is that so?” Lee asked without taking his eyes off the slots. Both golems had failed to follow him as they had been spying around the colosseum while he was being escorted to the cell, and he was still trying to figure out exactly where he was through their eyes.

“Yeah. You can see the box from the center of the sands. We’re on the side facing the prison. The other gladiator arena, where they put the non-Humans, is on the side facing the city walls. It’s much nicer--or that’s what I heard from one of the arena stars before the split anyway.”

“The split?” Lee raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the man. He was finally able to spot the room through his little golems’ eyes thanks to the man’s description. Got you, he thought, having one of the two flying mice land above between the bars.

“Yeah, the big split that happened a while back,” the man explained.

“What happened then?” Lee asked. “I’m new to town.”

“You came to this town willingly, as a Human, even though you aren’t from here?” The man shook his head and let out a long, heavy sigh. “That’s a lot of balls, man, a lot of balls. If I had known how bad things would be after the schism, I don’t think you could have even paid me to step foot in this town. Honestly, the fact that Humans still live here at all surprises me. Why haven’t they moved on?”

“What happened? Come on,” Lee pressed. “Don’t make me keep asking.” He was incredibly confused. Didn’t I see tons of Humans walking around, and haven’t I been to plenty of Human-filled bars here?

“You really don’t know? Well, I hate being the one to tell you, but . . . This town was originally a pretty stable oligarchy. We had noble families from five of the major races, abundant trade from every port, a thriving economy, and all was well with the world.” The man’s eyes seemed to grow a bit as he talked about the past. “Even I was doing well, tutoring the eldest prince of the elected king of Kirshtein. He was a good man, and so few will ever share the traits that made him great. He would have been a wonderful leader in the future.”

“Would have . . .” Lee caught the softly spoken words, and he knew what they meant by the man’s long gaze: the boy had been killed.

“Well, a little over two months ago, one of the ten infamous Firbolg Heralds came to town. He started preaching right outside the main palace every night for all to hear. It was horrendous stuff about how Humans were inferior, how Firbolgs were born stronger, faster and smarter--basically better in every way--and how even the Leprechauns, Dwarves and Aes Sidhe were superior. No one thought much of it the first day or two, but then one of the thirteen ruling factions, a Firbolg family, invited him in. The Tigernach faction members were already elitists to begin with, so when that awful Herald started spewing wicked slander about Humans, no one thought anything about it. They hoped that it meant he wouldn’t be showing up at the palace to annoy us every day.”

“I take it things didn’t go too smoothly after that?” Lee asked. His brain was already filling in pieces of the political story that he hadn’t even been told. It was a familiar tale that he had heard dozens of times over back home. The only difference was that race actually meant differently-colored skin or ethnic background there and not an entirely different race of humanoids like it did here. To say that Firbolgs were stronger here wasn’t a lie. They had better starting stats in that area, so there really wasn’t an argument to be made, and it wasn’t entirely biased to say they were born better at certain things. Anyone who had seen Miller tear through a group of foes like he was a chainsaw-wielding engineer slaughtering zombies could understand exactly how much stronger Firbolgs were.

That said, delusions of true superiority were such an easy crutch that Lee already knew where it was going the moment this man started talking about a Herald preaching that Firbolgs and Leprechauns and the other races were better than Humans. No one wants to feel bad about their lot in life, but over half of the people in any town are below their own personal bar for what ‘successful’ means. So, to prevent themselves from feeling ‘worse’ than their counterparts, most set random, abstract reasons for why they are better than others. ‘I’m an X, and the job of an X is hard and necessary. If you’ve never done it, then you don’t know what I’ve gone through and how vital I am.’ Worst-case scenario, people end up saying, ‘Oh, those people are just stupid because that occupation, that race, or that group is bad. Since we’re not them, we’re better.’

The non-Human races had likely started to get behind the idea that at least they weren’t Human. Even though they weren’t successful--they didn’t have wealth and renown, a beautiful wife or a manor in the country--they at least weren’t Human. They were Firbolgs or Leprechauns or whatever and thus better than a significant portion of the population simply because of that fact alone. The fact that every race in the game had advantages and disadvantages didn’t matter. Even though power and might weren’t everything in a fight, the fact that Firbolgs had a penalty to certain stats like coordination and reflex when they started was conveniently overlooked. The result was that they had created a social order based solely around their specious concept of racial superiority in order to create social standing for themselves. The consequence was that they had completely denigrated and destroyed Humans’ ability to function within the same city.

Lee wondered how they’d feel about the fact that one of the weakest fighters in Satterfield, a Human named Ramon, had been one of the most challenging opponents he had faced off against since he arrived on this world. Lee still went to sleep even now thinking about how he could incorporate Ramon’s tricks into his own fights--much more so, in fact, than he ever worried about the speed or strength he might need to compete with his Firbolg companion, Miller.

He was still mulling over this universal social issue that he had apparently stepped into while the old man continued. “Didn’t go smoothly? Well, depends who you ask though,” the man said. “If you were part of the Tigernach faction, then yeah: things went swimmingly. They drummed up enough support within a week to challenge the king by pulling together the help of every other Leprechaun and Firbolg family. They had five of the thirteen seats between those two races alone, and it gave them a large enough minority to issue a challenge.”

“A challenge?” Lee wasn’t sure what that meant. “Wouldn’t it just be called a vote?”

“Vote? No, a challenge. You have to send a champion in who will fight all of the champions of a house one after the other by himself. If he wins the challenge, the head of his house becomes the acting representative of the city until he passes away, either from a new challenge or old age. At that time, the city would revert back to its oligarchic roots, and leaders would be elected. It’s a stupid law from way back in the day when this city was founded on blood and battle. The council then felt that a weak house would drag the town’s martial ability in the wrong direction, which would cost us ground in the great wars that were fought when the city was founded. You only need a third of the seats to issue a challenge, but it hasn’t been relevant before now because no one has ever done it. It’s simply too risky.”

“I take it that the Herald acted as the champion of the house?” Lee asked knowingly. The old man nodded. “And then he went undefeated?” The man nodded again. “But how? That doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t there have been at least one good fighter who could have stopped him?”

“Oh, there was. The previous champion of my household, House Alastar, was an undefeated gladiator by the name of Hunter. He was so skilled in the arena that the idea of a challenge would be ludicrous. He alone defeated nearly ten people in a single fight. The way he worked his war maul was marvelous to watch. Unfortunately, he went missing three days before the challenge was issued along with two of our other top fighters, Arand and William. We found out later that their food had been drugged with sleeping agents, and then they were kidnapped from their own homes and shipped off to a nearby town, where they were held for a week before being let go. It left us wholly unprepared.” The man sighed heavily again, clearly distraught over the story he was retelling. “When they showed back up, it made us look even worse--as if they were cowardly and fled.”

“So, the usurpers won easily, didn’t they?” Lee guessed, filling in the blanks. “The Herald came in and beat the leading faction, a Human faction, without contest and played it up as if Humans were just inferior and victory was a common sense, guaranteed outcome. No one knew about the underhanded schemes or the dirty ploys, so the propaganda about Humans being second class only spread further.”

“That’s exactly it . . . except that the fight didn’t go over so smoothly. Lacking a champion, my employer and benefactor--one of the greatest men to ever live--took to the stage himself. He fought hard, majestically, you might say, with skill that no one knew he had, and the battle was too close for anyone who saw it to look down on either party. Unfortunately, he still died. It was rough to watch. It was the worst day of my life. The only thing that made it worse was when the Firbolg and Leprechaun factions started spinning lies about how easily he was trounced and how the fight was humiliating for any Human spectator.”

“That’s not good, but it doesn’t explain how you were arrested. And shouldn’t there still be other Human factions?”

“There are two left, but one of them went the way of the Dwarves and the Aes Sidhe, packing up their bags and leaving as soon as the climate changed,” the man replied.

“The Dwarves and the Aes Sidhe left too?” Lee was confused by this. “But wasn’t it the Humans who were being targeted? Why did they leave?”

“Well, a Dwarven Herald showed up a week or two later and led that entire race away. One of the two remaining Human factions asked if they could go as well due to the political climate. As for the Aes Sidhe, well, they were closer to the Dwarves to begin with, so when the Dwarves left, and they saw a third of Kirshtein’s Human population going with them, they tagged along too.”

“I see.” Lee nodded along, his frown deepening. The only bright side to this entire story was that at least a good number of people had made it out before things got too bad. “But when did things reach this level? And what got you in here? Did you protest the changes?”

“You’d be surprised, but it didn’t take long. One minute you’d be sleeping peacefully by yourself in a bed, the next minute you’d be getting beaten and dragged through the streets to the jail. Most of the Firbolgs and Leprechauns took to hating us Humans like a fish to water. By the end of the first month, they were arresting anyone with power--anyone with wealth or influence--inside the town on whatever bogus charge they could. They took our money, promising to give it back if we were cleared of the charges, but there was never a trial. Arrested Firbolgs got fair trials, good cells and lenient judges. But us? Well, I was arrested for supposedly stealing from a man I’ve never heard of in a part of town I’ve never visited. Like everyone here, they threw me in the gladiator pits, and I was one of the few that lived. Most of us wealthy ones die. That way, they never have to worry about giving back the money.”

“So . . . the Firbolg Herald appointed his own people into the justice system the moment he took over. Since you had both money and influence, that’s why you’re here.”

“It happened last month for me,” one of the Humans on the wall said, breaking into the conversation. “They didn’t even bother telling me what court case I was obstructing. Too lazy to make up one, I guess. I went from being the knight captain of the town guard to being stuck here. They’re slowly trying to starve me to death with the occasional piece of bread and some water every now and then, and they don’t even let me fight. It’s a shame, but I guess they thought I’d make them look bad.”

“I’ve been here for a month and a half,” the old man who had filled him in said. “I’m just a lot better with a sword than those bastards thought I’d be. I’m Dave, by the way. Or as my arena name is these days, The Old Fart-Whistle.”

“I’m Pelham,” the knight captain said as he stood up and walked over, pulling up a chair so that he could sit down at the table too.

“I’m Lee. And I think I was arrested because I actually did kill nine or ten Firbolgs and a Human recently. So . . . starve to death, is it?” he asked, looking down at the bread he was still holding.

“They do whatever they can to make us look weak and miserable when we reach the arena. They want to keep selling that same song and story about all Humans being terrible fighters. Hell, they have that guy, Silinus the Slayer, kill most of the new arrivals who show any promise. Makes them look better and us look worse,” Pelham grumbled. “I’m sure that once my muscles forget how to work from always being locked in this container, and I shrivel up like a haggardly old man, they’ll let me have my chance in the arena. They’ll let me in for one last fight so that they can showcase the superiority of some guy in perfect shape with the best gear money can buy.”

“Starvation . . .” The word hung on Lee’s lips.

“Yeah, we said that already. You’re still in shock, huh?” Pelham asked.

“He’s new. Leave him alone,” one of the other men lying against the wall said. “He probably didn’t know what was coming for him when they locked him up.”

“He killed Firbolgs--a damn lot of them too. How could he not?” Pelham laughed. “I wish I had been there and seen the look on those bastards’ faces when you showed them that arrogance and lies and trumped-up social classes don’t stop death from finding ‘em just the same.”

“So, no one has eaten properly since they got here?” An idea kept swirling around in Lee’s head.

“You’re really stuck on that, aren’t you? You don’t seem that large for a glutton. You one of those high-metabolism kids that needs ten solid meals to make it through the day?”

“No,” Lee answered with a smile, looking over the group. “I just worked up an appetite from killing Silinus earlier. Was hoping to wash down that victory with a good mug of ale, but now you’re telling me that I won’t even have food. This just won’t do.” Undefeated Leprechaun built to squish noobs on their first day? Not anymore! Now, I just need to milk this for some faith and get some food in the process.

Lee checked in on his pair of golems and told them. Go and find out what you can. We need food quickly. The mice were happy to oblige. The people in the arena had essentially been eating junk food while watching Lee try to stay alive. While he was in the arena, fighting for his life, there were several food vendors they had seen.

“Wait, you killed Silinus?! They made you fight him right off? That’s crazy. You must have really ruined the mood of the guards or someone higher up.” Dave shook his head.

“He could be lying . . . trying to make himself feel big since he’s stuck in jail,” Pelham suggested. “Kid, don’t bother. We’ll know sooner or later. Few people could give Silinus a fair fight if they were skilled and armed, but you are going to tell us you beat him barehanded?”

“You can believe what you want,” Lee replied distractedly. He was so busy looking through one of the rodent’s eyes at the moment that he wasn’t fully engaged in the conversation anymore. There was no point in arguing about small stuff to impress them when what he needed wasn’t their respect: it was the faith points they would generate. “It won’t bother me. As you said, the truth will come out in time.”

“You gonna pretend that you didn’t just mention that to sound big? That you weren’t about to go on bragging and bloviating about how great you were in the arena on your first day? Come on, kid. If you’re going to brag, do it right. Puff out your chest and say whatever exaggerated nonsense you think you can get away with. Make it creative. Don’t say you killed ten Firbolgs or that you killed Silinus. Say that you killed over a hundred and murdered one of the Heralds while you’re at it.” Pelham ranted on, continuing his challenge of Lee’s boast, laughing as he did.

Lee wondered what Pelham would think if he knew he actually had killed a Herald and at least a dozen Firbolgs, if not more, thanks to his conflicts in Satterfield. He decided that since Pelham would think he was lying no matter what he said, he might as well have fun with the old knight captain. “Maybe I should tell you that, one time, I freed a group of enslaved Humans while killing over forty guards in the process with my trusty Firbolg best buddy and a beautiful archer.”

“Ah, there’s a good story. How about you go into more detail about the women. We’re all men here. They don’t let women fight in the arena after all. So, add in some more girls . . . that beautiful kind that just crawls into bed without a single prompt.” Pelham continued chuckling without any way of knowing that he was describing an actual character in Lee’s story to a T.

“Let’s not forget food fit for the king and queen of Spicy Noodle Chicken Surprise themselves. Did you have feast after feast after saving all of these women?” one of the previously-uninterested parties lying on the side of the room said as he sat up to join the conversation. “Gods, what I’d give for a nice juicy slab of meat and some fruit.”

“And a nice bed. You must have had the best beds in the world back when you were in town, right? The kind that doesn’t leave you exhausted the next day after a whole night of tossing and turning?” one of the other Humans chimed in as he sat up too.

“I’d be lying if I told you there wasn’t a bed there that would make every bed in the entire town of Kirshtein look like a lumpy pile of burlap sacks. Its sheets were so smooth and crisp that a Kirstein monarch would find that his own bed felt like a pile of straw by comparison,” Lee replied wistfully.

“Oh, really? And I’m sure your home was also more impressive,” Pelham continued. “Probably had a room so well decorated that even the most nitpicking wife couldn’t find fault with it.”

“Well, it depends which wife is nitpicking. The queen from this world? Never. My mother? She’ll never approve of any place I live, and no room will ever make her happy, so it’s all a crapshoot really.”

“Oh, but that isn’t the end, is it? I’m sure you also--” Pelham was about to lead Lee into more hyperbole, but Lee was having so much fun with the conversation he couldn’t help but interrupt.

“Took over a castle? Of course. How else do you think I killed the Herald inside it? Single-handedly defeated knights and dragons in an epic battle as a score of beautiful women watched? Absolutely,” Lee said, piling it on. Even though every word was true, more or less, the others were laughing as if he were the biggest gloating fibber in existence. “Let’s also not forget the fact that people practically worshipped me. I think it’s because of my good looks, but they are all also hung up on the fact that I came back from the dead.”

“So, you can’t die, huh? That explains why you’re still alive with those tiny arms of yours. I hate to tell you this, but you’d make a terrible knight, much less gladiator. A cheat ability like not being able to die is the only way you’ll make it through the month.”

“Cheat ability? Well, you know, when I first got in the fight with them, they sent a Glubinsa to slime me. Just to show them how amazing I am, I turned the entire thing into booze before their eyes and drank it. You should have seen the look on those two Firbolg guards’ faces--especially after I made a bet with one for better living quarters.”

“Come on, man! You’re killing me! That’s too much! You gotta give me time to breathe,” Dave gasped between fits of laughter. It apparently didn’t take much to make them laugh--likely due to the fact that they’d had nothing to entertain themselves with for a month--but Lee appreciated it nonetheless anyway.

Even as he was speaking, he was also managing his golems. They had found one of the nearby food vendors but were struggling to carry their bounty back to him. The two mice had grabbed the food from either side and dragged it like it was a pizza on the sidewalk, but that didn’t work. They had stealth on their side, but moving food was visible, and they couldn’t drag it along quickly enough so that a guard wouldn’t notice.

At this point, Lee decided to change tactics altogether: he had the mice eat the food. They wouldn’t actually digest anything since they were really just clay sculptures, and instead, the food just went into the hollow containers that were their stomachs. Their size expanded a bit as their bellies were filled, and thus their own size bit by bit as they kept snacking on the vendor’s grub and then running away with it over time. Normally, Lee would have felt awful about stealing from people. He knew they were just trying to make a living the same way he was, but after they had jeered and sneered as they watched him fight for his life, he somehow didn’t mind taking from their stalls without paying. If every person in the colosseum was profiting off his potential death, he felt it was a fair price to pay.

The downside to the Little Ethans grabbing food bite by bite was that they were actually chewing it. It wasn’t intentional, but they had to bite off pieces and swallow small bits at a time. Eventually, the two mice, now shaped like tiny little balloons, made their way back to him. They were able to sneak past the guards and extend their paws through the grate that made up the door to where Lee was waiting, ready to take the contents of their hollowed-out clay stomachs into his inventory. He positioned himself next to the door and then leaned back against it so that no one could see what he was doing.

“Eager to go back out?” Dave asked as he saw Lee move from the chair at the table to leaning against the door and mistook his action. “Feeling cramped in here too? It’s okay. You’ll get used to it. You’d be surprised. I was restless too at first, but you can get used to anything given enough time.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lee answered, and then he began to lie. “But I have to pray. This bread”--Lee tossed the small piece over to Pelham--“just isn’t going to cut it. After hearing you all reminisce about my past adventures, I want more.”

“And you think praying is going to get it for you?” Dave asked, scoffing. “I’ve been praying every day since I got here. Not because I’m religious and not to any particular god since I never had one before to begin with, but just ‘cause I got nothing else to do. You showing up is the first new event that one of us has seen in a month--other than the occasional fight, of course.”

“Yeah, I’m going to agree with Old Whistle-Fart. If it ain’t the starvation that kills us, it’ll be the boredom,” Pelham added as he happily ate the bread he had been given. “Hours and hours of boredom. We exchanged tales at first, but you run out of those after a while too. Thanks for this, by the way, but don’t expect me to ever have enough to return the favor.”

“Hmm . . . So, you prayed to no god and got nothing in return? That sounds about right,” Lee said, stretching out the conversation and setting up his next bet in the process. “That means the reason you don’t believe in one is that you have never gotten anything from one? That also sounds fair if not a bit circular.”

Dave nodded, “Yeah, you could sum it up like that. That and, you know, having to watch the family I took care of my entire life have the father brutally murdered before my eyes and the son arrested and sent off to prison where he rots in the dungeon based on ludicrous charges as we speak.”

“Hmm . . .” Lee sorted through the items in his inventory that the rodents had given him. Not enough time had passed for him to produce a feast, but he was able to actually make a good meal for himself and one other person. He gauged the room for a minute, scratching the non-existent beard on his chin as he contemplated a way to help them out and earn himself some faith in the process. “Well, what if I make you a deal, Dave?”

“A deal?” Dave looked at him skeptically. “Don’t tell me you’re actually one of those religious types? Why does this subject always require bartering?”

“Oh, I might be a religious type, but I’m also a man of logic. I understand exactly where you’re coming from. Why believe in something if there is no proof? Blind faith, the idea of belief without evidence, is just silly. I agree. But, fortunately . . . I have evidence with me.” Lee’s statement evoked a groan from almost everyone in the room to groan. Knight Captain Pelham even shook his head in disappointment as if Lee had gone from just a silly greenhorn everyone could poke fun at to the awkward religious nut preaching in the corner in less than a second.

Dave rubbed his forehead and knitted his brow as he looked over at Lee. “Kid, you really need to stop joking around. Just give up on this praying thing and try to get some rest. There’s no telling when one of us will be called again.”

“So, you’re not even going to hear my bet out? Give me a little benefit of the doubt!” Lee put on the best hurt and offended expression he could muster, seeing that just trying to get some basic consent in the conversation was going to be an incredibly-uphill battle. “Alright then, that’s fine,” he said, maintaining his feigned indignation while secretly applying his cooking skill. Unlike the slime-to-alcohol conversion and turning sand into weapons, this basic form of crafting was done with little to no effort. Cooking didn’t seem to eat a noticeable amount of mana. Lee was able to make batch after batch of fried chicken with the cooking skill and not feel the slightest bit drained, but one glass sword and a shield had left him with nearly no spirit leftover. Focusing his mana, he transformed the first set of ingredients: some pieces of chicken and herbs that the rodents had snatched and place into his inventory, creating spiced chicken nuggets.

He pulled the crispy bits of flavorful meat out into the real world and held them out in his right hand. “It’s a real shame then because I can’t give you anything if you can’t give me something in return. Your logic is solid. After all, why would you believe in something you have no proof of? You need something to give something right? I’m the same.” Lee popped some of the fried chicken nuggets into his mouth, making sure to pause between bites.

Their jaws hit the floor, and they stared at him wide-eyed and in shock. These people knew better than anyone what an ordeal it was to be brought into the jail. Like Lee, they had been searched and had everything stripped from them when they were arrested and lost everything on them to the confiscation racket that the guards were running. There was no way they would have been able to slip in food undetected, and there was no way that Lee should have been able to do it now.

“What?” Lee asked, feigning surprise as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. This was the exact reaction that he had been hoping for. “Do I have something on my face?” Like someone fishing for a compliment or an apology, he was going to force them to spell out exactly what he wanted.

“You know exactly what!” Pelham bellowed in disbelief. “Where in the world did you get those? How did you get them past the guards?

“I don’t know . . .” Lee paused long enough to take another bite of some fried chicken. He was hungry, and a measly handful of bread wouldn’t cut it. The fried chicken nuggets were exactly what he needed, hitting the spot and giving him some much-needed comfort food in the middle of what promised to be a dark road to a much more awful future. The only regret he had was that there wasn’t any hot sauce, barbecue sauce, honey mustard or something great to dip them in. “Do you really think the guards wouldn’t check my inventory? They tried to rob me last night, but I just prayed to Augustus, and here they are. Delicious, savory nuggets of goodness.”

“Come on. Don’t be like that. Tell us how you got it,” Pelham urged. The savory aroma of the juicy golden morsels was already permeating the cell. “And share some with me too.”

“Yeah! You have to get us some of that,” Dave echoed. “I haven’t eaten a real meal in so long I’d kill for some good . . . whatever that is. It really smells delicious.”

“Well, then you have to pray for it,” Lee said. “Pray to Augustus sincerely, believe he is here, and I’ll give some food to you as well.” The reason he didn’t just tell them to convert and wait for the Faith stat increase was because he needed time for the two golems to actually scrounge up more food. On the off-chance every single person honestly converted, he wouldn’t have enough for everyone.

“Stop playing games,” Pelham demanded. “Just give me some food, boy. I’m starving. Can’t you give your seniors in both occupation and age a little respect and deliver up something good for me?”

“Yeah, just give us some food,” Dave pestered. “I haven’t eaten in so long. Don’t hold out on me.”

“Forget you two.” One of the guys laying down, a member of the earlier batch of men that had mocked Lee, stood up and started speaking. “If I have to convert, so be it. Just give me anything to eat. Just feed me. Look, Augustus, I promise to stop imagining doing dirty things with Guard Captain Delilah if you just give me some damn food.”

Your actions and deeds have successfully converted 1 person to your religion. Faith has increased by 1. Current Faith: 671.

I think Augustus would prefer if you were more lecherous, not less. Lee had to contain a chuckle as he remembered the interactions he had had so far with Augustus about the subject of sex. I’m pretty sure Augustus might even give me an instant miracle of choice in the other world if I bent the guard captain over for him to watch. His dirty old man powers are far greater than those of any wanton, libidinous geezer I’ve met so far.

Lee, both amused at the promise and not expecting to win these prisoners over to be so easy, did his best to keep a straight face as he used his cooking skills and then opened his hands to produce fried vegetable tempura. “Augustus tells me your faith is real, so here you go. Have at it.”

Not seeming to care that it wasn’t the same chicken nuggets Lee had eaten earlier, the man dashed over to the door and grabbed the food, scarfing it down with abandon. “Thank you! Thank you!”

Lee felt wrong about trying to hold a prisoner to such an absurd and random promise. “But . . . he says not to bother keeping that promise. He doesn’t care what you do on your own time. Just keep believing in him.” Lee really wished he had some copies of the Book of Lee on him as he watched the man happily return to the wall with the four handfuls of food that he had been given. He didn’t need another case of someone aggressively interpreting the religion however he wanted, whenever he wanted, and the book would have provided a sound foundation between right and wrong.

“Good call,” Augustus said, his voice suddenly sounding off in Lee’s head. “There is no way I’m going to bother with a small fry to ever check up on that promise anyway.”

You jerk! Those are your Faith points. Be somewhat considerate, Lee mentally grumbled at Augustus. Anyway, one down, a few more to go.

“Kid, stop holding out and give me the food. If you have some for him, you have some for me too.” Pelham stood up this time and took a step forward. Lee couldn’t tell from his expression alone if he was going to attack and try to forcibly take food from him, but his posture and glare both hinted at that being a real possibility.

“It’s not my food to give. You have to pray first. If Augustus agrees, he’ll send food. Then you can have some.” Lee took another load of random bits of food from a golem that had once more made it to the door.

Due to the sneaky activity of your golems, your mastery of Sneak has progressed from the rank of Novice Level 9 to the rank of Novice Level 10. This skill improves one’s ability to stay hidden, move silently and act undetected.

Due to improving Sneak, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 138.

“You aren’t pulling my leg here, are you, kid?” Pelham asked. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”

“Go ahead and try. What do you have to lose? Sincerely pray and believe, and I’ll give you food,” Lee insisted, motioning with his hands to do so. “Give it a go.”

“Fine.” Pelham, looking skeptically at Lee, closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this, but uhh . . . Augustus, give me some damn food already.”

Your actions and deeds have successfully converted 1 person to your religion. Faith has increased by 1. Current Faith: 672.

What kind of weird conversion was that? Lee hadn’t expected it to work. There was no way he could have anticipated that an angry ex-soldier who was stuck in a prison with such a poor attitude would convert. Lee knew that the man had to really believe for a sincere faith-generating conversion to occur. How desperate for food is he?

Doing his best to time the food generation to coincide with the prayer, Lee started piling up as many of the tiny, little, nut-like, popcorn-shaped crunchy kernels as he could. “See? That easy,” Lee said as he stood and extended his hands. “Welcome to the fold, brother.”

“Me too!” Dave, whose mouth had yet to close, finally said enthusiastically. “I need food too, Augustus!” he shouted and stepped forward.

Unfortunately for Dave, no faith notification popped up for the old man. He was likely much more set in his beliefs than a single conversation could change, and as such, Lee didn’t know what to do. Give him some food for trying and pressure him more? Lee debated in his head.

Before he got a chance to get the answer, a knock came on the door and a guard’s gruff voice came from the other side. “Dust yourself off, boy. You’re needed on the sands again. And don’t try any funny business on your way out.”

Why not? There is no way there are archers on both sides of the hallway . . . If I have to start planning a breakout, this is actually probably the best time to do it, he decided. He used one of the golems, who was currently returning with food, to verify his assumption. Yup, barely any guards here. I’ll just have to be quiet about the killings when it’s time.

“Hey, give me some food before you leave,” Dave insisted after hearing the guards. “I need to eat too.”

“But your faith wasn’t sincere.” Lee shrugged as he stood up and brushed himself off. “Who knows though? I’m feeling generous.” Lee sighed and pulled out some of the remaining popcorn-like nuts from the pile he had given to Pelham and passed them over to Dave. “Have at it. Hopefully, I’ll be back later, and you can pray for more.”

“Wait, that’s not right. I prayed. How come they got more?” Dave griped as the door opened and two of the guards appeared.

“What are you all excited about?” the guard asked as he opened the door, but then his eyes saw Dave and Pelham both standing there with handfuls of food. “And where did you get that? Which one of you beady-eyed cledor rats stole food and brought it in here?!” the guard demanded.

“It wasn’t stolen! We prayed and received,” the first convert said as he stuffed his face with all the food he had left on him, likely fearing that the guard might take it away from him now that he had seen it.

“That’s right!” Pelham nodded and then mimicked the man’s actions and stuffed his face too.

Dave, while not as quick as Pelham, followed suit as well. The three of them now looked like chipmunks with their cheeks stretched out to hold in the grub while they chewed.

“What in the--? I need an explanation! Now! Did you do this?” the guard said, turning to Lee. “You gonna be a troublemaker here, you filthy rat, or you gonna tell me where you got the food from, boy?”

“I’d love to, but you wouldn’t believe me if I did, so can we skip the lecture and just move straight to the fight? I’m feeling the need to flex a bit for the over-eager, bloodthirsty Firbolgs who can’t get enough of my beautiful self.” Lee’s words were cocky, but it was really just because at this point, his frustration with the Firbolgs’ rude and inconsiderate manner had reached a breaking point after hearing the backstory of the town.

“It’s a miracle . . . just like what they said he did on the sands . . .” The second guard muttered in a voice that was barely loud enough for Lee to hear.

“Quiet, you,” the first guard demanded, reprimanding his comrade. “I swear, Oran, you need to stop listening to what idiots tell you. You really think he can perform miracles? Drink a Glubinsa? You ever heard of anyone drinking a Glubinsa like it was booze?”

“What?” Pelham said through a mouthful of food. Drinking the Glubinsa was one of the boasts Lee had offhandedly mentioned earlier to pile on to the ridiculousness of the supposed lies he was telling. He never recounted the feat as if it were something that actually happened. “He really . . .”

“Like I told you, I drank the Glubinsa and then murdered the mighty Silinus the Slayer without a weapon. You can ask them if you don’t believe me,” Lee said as he stood outside the door, waiting for his escort.

“Yeah, but he cheated. It was a cheat!” the guard blurted out, confirming the story. The Firbolg was still venting his frustration as he shut the door behind him, leaving the room full of prisoners to their thoughts.

Lee was looking at the guards in a new light by the time they reached the arena. Part of his brain had written off their behavior earlier as just people treating him poorly because they thought he actually was guilty. He had imagined that their rude, indifferent behavior was because they hated criminals or were just humongous jerks. Now that he knew the nature of the political and social situation in the town, all the ‘cledor rat,’ ‘your type,’ and ‘filthy human’ comments started to make sense--and he couldn’t help but loathe them for it all. He didn’t even want to exchange words with them.

“Hey, did you give this punk food when you brought him over?” the guard who had escorted him back asked. “Haven’t we told you not to feed the prisoners?”

“I didn’t give him a thing,” the racist loudmouth retorted. “Why would I give him anything?”

“Well, if you didn’t, somebody did. We caught him sharing food with other prisoners, and they weren’t the normal scraps of bread that we allow their kind every now and then. It was a full meal, and it smelled better than anything any woman has ever made me, my own mother included. Now, because of whoever let this rat get his hands on that food, we are going to have to starve out that group for twice as long. Three of them were scheduled for fights this week, and we don't have anyone who will fit the captain's description. Half of those disgusting Humans are fat and happy thanks to your incompetence.”

“I am telling you: I didn't give him any food! Why would I give that filthy Human anything? I want him to suffer just as much as you do. He embarrassed the hell out of me earlier!”

“Don't play dumb. Everyone heard you talking to the prisoner on the sands this morning. If you weren’t trying to help him out, then what the heck were you telling him? You're not seriously friends with this long-faced rat, are you?”

“I’m telling you: it wasn’t me. Just ask anyone. I've never helped a single one of those dirty-blooded bastards in my life, and anyone you ask will back that claim up.”

Lee was in a difficult spot. Half of him really wanted to tell the guard exactly what he wanted to hear, that he had gotten the food from the guard who brought him to the cell earlier. If Lee corroborated the accusation on top of the fact that the guard had no other explanation, it was likely to land the jerk in trouble. It would only be a small blow, but it would give him some small satisfaction to know that this guy was suffering because of him. However, Lee decided to hold back on that impulse. If he followed through, it would be terribly short-sighted. He would inadvertently invite skepticism as to the nature of his earlier ‘miracle’ with the food, a racket he was currently trying hard to sell. He didn't know how pressed for time he actually was, and he didn't want to risk undermining any of the activities that could potentially generate Faith points.

On top of that, there was also an even worse possible outcome: he might be seen as somebody who cooperated with the guards against the prison inmates, people whom Lee had a feeling he would be stuck with for quite a long time. Still, despite that, he couldn’t help smiling and giving the guy a wink, which the accusing guard couldn't see, just to make him sweat.

“Hmph. Maybe I'll actually look into this and see exactly what type of character you are. Sympathizers aren't welcome here. If the captain finds out that you're one of them, your fate will end up worse than his,” the accuser sneered. “You better pray that I don't find anything out, or it's your head before his.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about because you won't find anything out. My slate is clean.”

Lee interjected, not hiding his distaste for them or their conversation. He said, “If you gents are going to spend the entire afternoon arguing, then how about you give me my weapon, open the door and let me get out into the arena so that I don’t have to listen to you squabble back and forth like a couple arguing over who gets to keep the dog in the divorce.”

“What did you say?” The guard that had escorted Lee from the cell turned and struck him across the face, shaving off 5 hit points. He was now back at 194 hit points after his little break, a small amount of regen and a lot of mana cycling, so the blow wasn’t as devastating as it might have been before he was taken to the cell. It wasn’t a lot--certainly not an amount he’d ever be comfortable having given the last few fights--but it was still a big enough buffer between him and death that he wasn’t worried about instantly croaking from a blow unless an imp blew up in his face again.

Against his better instincts, Lee goaded the Firbolg even further. “Hey, don’t hurt the merchandise,” he pressed with a laugh. “You wouldn’t want to scuff my beautiful face before I have to perform.”

“You little--” The guard hit him again, drawing another 5 points of damage and causing a cut on Lee’s face as the pokey part of one of the man’s buckles struck his cheek. “Watch your tone when you’re talking to your betters.”

“Betters?” Lee laughed as he took a finger and drew it across the cut, using some of his remaining 12 mana points to boost himself up to 203 hit points and remove the cut at the same time. He gave the guard his most wicked grin as he performed this little act of defiance. “Could you point one out for me? I can’t seem to find any.”

The guard’s eyes flared up in anger, and he was just about to hit Lee again when someone called out and stopped him. The passive guard from last time, Oran, the only person who hadn’t entered the conversation yet, called out. “Stop! You can hit him all you want when the sun sets, but until then, he takes his licks on the sand. Be professional, and don’t forget yourself. Our job is to satisfy the paying customer, not our own animal urges.”

While Lee was rather happy not to be struck again, he knew that this particular matter wasn't over yet. He knew that the guard would try to get revenge on him later and that being interrupted now had just worsened things for him. Lee didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but it felt really good to act so obnoxiously arrogant to these particular guards. “Right. I’ve got a performance to give, adoring fans waiting to see my much nicer face after having to look at ugly mugs like yours all day long, so please point me to the weapons rack so I can arm myself and go put on a show.”

“You know, this won’t help you convert any of them,” Augustus said in Lee’s head.

Convert them? I’ll deal with that later. They’re just lucky that I can’t get away with killing them right here and now. Lee didn’t let his anger show as he put on his best award show smile.

“Arm yourself? How many points does he have again?” the guard who had hit him asked.

“He has thirty, which is enough for a steel weapon,” Oran responded.

“Great, then. Quaid, give him only iron. Don’t let him spend a single point on steel. I think that will be a good start at teaching this rat his place in the gutters,” the higher-ranking guard said.

“Fine, if you insist.” Quaid, as the guard who had been the biggest pain in Lee’s neck was apparently called, looked rather ticked off at this development. “Then we’ll do it your way, but that Spiddlendra is about to hit the sands, and he needs to be there first for dramatic suspense.”

“Then do your job! I’m off, and I better not hear about you giving him any food again!” The guard let loose a salvo of saliva as he shouted this warning before he angrily stormed off.

“Dang, that guy really needs some bacon,” Lee laughed. “Too bad I don’t have any on me.”

“What?” Quaid asked. “Stop talking to yourself and pick a weapon. You want a halberd, a sword, a dagger? What you need?”

Lee looked over all the weapons. He was comfortable with both swords, daggers, and unarmed combat, but he was very tempted by some of the other weapons on display. He saw a bow and a quiver of arrows that he thought might be useful, and he spied a halberd, a spear, and a buckler designed to go with a spear that he also thought might be good. He was tempted by many of the other options as well, especially the flail, but in the end, he decided to stick with the sword and shield. So long as he didn’t go against an enemy with heavy-plate-style armor, it would be a good option.

“I'll take the long sword and the shield then,” Lee said, reaching for the two.

“Fine, but iron only,” Quaid said, stepping over before Lee could grab the steel weapons. He handed Lee the worst-looking medium-sized shield and sword on the racks. The sword had a ding in it, and when Lee went to inspect it, the description read ‘Damaged Long Sword.’ It had 10 damage, which was still rather impressive for a long sword, considering the previous one-handed weapons he had come across on average seemed to do only 8 to 9 damage at best. Steel swords always did more than iron, but the iron ones were easy to find, and when it came to arming people at Satterfield for a worst-case scenario in which the town was attacked, Lee had wanted to go the steel route but settled on iron due to its cheap and abundant nature. The shield was also better than the one he had previously been using.

Shields had an armor score of their own. It was something Lee hadn’t thought to check when he first came to the world, assuming all shields would roughly just block what was in front of them, but he had learned the hard way what happened when its breaking point was exceeded. Each part of the shield was able to take damage equivalent to its armor score, which, for this particular shield, was 108. He had discovered that shields would actually break once the damage was exceeded, but the final blow would still be reduced by roughly two times the shield’s score. His new 108 armor shield, for example, would block all but 84 damage from a 300-damage attack, such as an imp exploding point-blank.

“Good choice. Perfect for a rodent,” the mouthy guard snapped at him. “A good wooden wall to hide behind. Should we drill a hole in there for you to sneak your cheese through?”

“I mean, do you have any cheese for me?” Lee asked, ignoring the obvious insult. Don’t worry, Little Ethan. Rodents are awesome. Especially flying ones.

“Just shut up and get in there,” the guard grumbled angrily, opening the door and shoving Lee through impatiently.

Lee was actually hoping that his enemy would be a person--a Firbolg who hated Humans, preferably--and that fact disturbed him. People had two arms, two legs and generally all fought within a range of common techniques and generally used a limited range of weapon types. Given the practice he had fighting people, they would probably be a whole lot easier to deal with than a never-before-encountered monster with bizarre physiology, an unknown range of motion and unpredictable offensive capabilities. Of course, the fact that it’d be easier to imagine the face of that guard on a humanoid opponent also helped. The thought hung in his mind as the gate open, and he was actually a bit relieved when his opponent turned out to be a monster, even though that presented him with more unknowns in the impending fight. Why the hell would I want to take a person’s life just because I’m pissed and don’t want to deal with the hassle of fighting a monster again? Lee kicked himself mentally for that line of thinking. Then he strolled toward the middle of the arena, keeping his head just high enough to see over the shield and prepared to jump in any direction at a moment’s notice.

He didn't have a clue what this monster was, but he knew that he didn't want to be unprepared when it struck out at him. It wasn't very large compared to some of the creatures he had fought, but it had the rough shape and look of a centipede, a multitude of crawly legs and gross exoskeleton included, and Lee found it intimidating. He swallowed as he watched it crawl toward him across the sand, the hundred little legs sounding off in a highly-unnerving rat-a-tat. Each leg was about the size of his shin, and they hurriedly brought the fifteen-foot-long body toward him. Even more unpleasant were its two sharp, blade-like arms, each likely five feet long, which the creature used to pull itself toward Lee even faster than the legs could carry it alone.

The creature stopped when it was about twenty feet away and raised the front half of its body into the air, swaying back and forth as it fought to support its massive weight. Then, the creature’s face split in half horizontally to reveal two sets of mouths, and a spike suddenly shot out at Lee.

Yup, the shield is always the best! Lee wasn't fast enough to move out of the way completely, but he was still able to move his body so that if the spike pierced through the shield, his vital organs wouldn't become kebabs on the other side of him. After a thud let Lee know that the damage was done, he lowered his guard to look at the creature. The monster seemed to smile grotesquely, its face splitting open even wider before launching a full volley of spikes toward him. Lee grimaced, but since the shield had blocked the first hit, he decided to put more faith in it as he charged toward the monster.

Perfect, Lee thought as the shield proved its worth. Then, as Lee reached the demonic centipede, a flash of inspiration hit him. He faked an advance the same way Ling had often done against him in sparring bouts and grinned to himself as the creature took the bait, swiping its two massive arms down toward him. The monster stood a full foot higher off the ground than he did, and it put a good amount of its weight behind the two blows. Having anticipated the attack, Lee caught its arms on the spikes that had been planted into his shield.

“What is that cledor rat trying to do?” one of the guards asked.

Lee turned his shield, shifting the creature’s arms to the side, and then took another step forward, slamming all of his weight behind his shield and driving it forward into the monstrous centipede’s body. Not only did the spiky shield slam appear to rack up damage--Lee felt the series of bone-hard points dig through the centipede’s exoskeleton--but it also pinned the centipede’s left arm between his shield and its body.

The Spiddlendra frantically tried to grab Lee with its right arm, but he somehow managed to maneuver his legs and torso out of the way each time it snapped at him, avoiding its grasp by mere inches. The monster pulled back, trying to yank the arm free, and Lee allowed himself to be carried along. He continued pushing forward when the beast tried to stop, and this time, he shoved his sword forward into the joint between two of the centipede’s many rings.

The giant insect squealed as Lee pulled sideways, separating the two rings and yanking the hideous creature forward. He vaulted over on top of its back as soon as the centipede hit the ground, lifted up his shield and slammed its bottom edge down into the creature over and over again in quick succession. The monster cried out helplessly, squirming about and thrashing from side to side, but Lee refused to stop. The taste of victory was in his mouth, and unlike every fight he had had before, this one had yet to come with a price tag, so he attacked as fast and hard as he could, praying he could kill the big, ugly bug before it had a chance to throw him off.

As he kept smashing his shield down onto the creature and stabbing into it with his word, the monster’s high-pitched screams got quieter and quieter until he eventually saw the message he was hoping for:

You have killed a Spiddlendra. Your party has been awarded a Spiddlendra carapace and 1208 Experience. Your share of this is 1 Spiddlendra carapace and 302 Experience.

You have learned the rare combat skill Blood Shield. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. It is often said that the best defense is a good offense and that a shield is one of the best offensive tools a soldier can use. Through unorthodox use of the shield, your skills with the tool have improved, and your reflexes have improved when both blocking and assaulting enemies with the shield.

You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 140.

Lee took a deep breath to let his nerves calm down as he slid off of the corpse and surveyed at his latest kill. This is just what I needed. Lee grinned ear to ear as he studied the carcass. A small part of him was able to understand how Miller was so desperate to inflict pain and destruction on something. It was the same feeling he had felt only moments ago.

“Come on!” Lee demanded of the crowd as he looked up at the people in the stands. “At least give me a few cheers!” The crowd had been nothing but Firbolgs, Leprechauns and only one or two Humans that morning, but now it was at least thirty percent Humans, and most of them were at the front of the stadium watching. He recognized some of them as people from the bars he had visited the night before.

“It’s really him! He’s really amazing!” one of the Humans said. He had the golems move through the crowd while he was fighting, not only looking for new potential targets to rob for food, but also trying to keep an accurate count on the gates, the guards, and how hard it would be to potentially break out in the future.

“I can’t believe he did it. He didn’t even get hurt,” another one of the Humans gasped.

“Psh! He’s just a Human. How special can he be?” one of the Firbolgs grumbled.

“Well, when is the last time we saw a Firbolg fight one of the Spiddlendras without taking a single hit? That was a flawless victory, and he was under-geared, and you know it!” a Human spat back.

“Ugh. Don’t get cocky. It was a lucky round, nothing more. He won’t last another,” another the Firbolg grumbled.

“Lucky round, huh? I think I’d like to get lucky one round with him. The way he fought . . . it was so . . . so dreamy . . .” A Firbolg girl who didn’t look to be a day over twenty leaned against the railing in front of her, right next to the old-looking Firbolg who had just tried to jinx Lee with bad luck.

“Don’t say that. What is wrong with you? He’s a cledor,” the old man next to the girl complained. “I’m not going to let you watch these vermin fight again if this is how you behave.”

“You misheard me, father. I didn’t say anything!” the girl lied, and even though it was clearly a falsehood, Lee could tell from the man’s facial expression and nod that he was ready to believe it wholeheartedly.

So, I have groupies--and Firbolg groupies at that! Lee tilted his head back and laughed.

“Stop right there,” someone said, suddenly drawing his attention away from spying on the crowd. He whipped his head back and forth as he searched for the speaker, only to realize that the command wasn’t being directed at him--it was being spoken to Little Ethan.

“I know what you are, and I know who your master is,” the man continued. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of letters that appeared to be four or five deep. Lee automatically knew that each had been written by a different person from just a glance at the handwriting. “I need you to deliver these to your master on my behalf.”

Lee hesitated. So, he knows that I am in charge of Ethan, but he doesn't seem to know that talking to Ethan is the same as talking to me. He had the mouse nod its tiny head before grabbing the papers out of the man’s hand. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect since the golem he was using didn’t have any food in his stomach at the moment. Ethan stood on his two rear legs, fold the papers in half, rolled them up, and shoved them down its throat. It must have been a strange sight for the man to witness, but Lee had no other way of delivering them without potentially losing them or ruining the writing on the little notes

He was especially curious what the letters said, but he knew that he would have to wait until later to find out. He could have read them through Ethan’s eyes, but he didn’t want to give away any more of his tricks than the man already knew.

“So, what am I fighting next?” Lee asked, turning back to the guards at the gate. He could see their opposing emotions on their faces. The guard who had first given him a pair of shoes and stuck up for him earlier when he was getting struck, Oran, was actually smiling as he stared at Lee. The other, however, was shooting daggers out of his eyes faster than the Spiddlendra’s spines had shot out and struck his shield.

“Hold your horses. We don’t have another opponent lined up just yet, so just give it a moment. We will,” Quaid responded with the creepiest smile Lee had ever seen outside of a b-rated horror flick.

Lee grimaced and then decided to be productive with the time he had. He looked down at his shield and realized that the spikes were partially being held in place with a large glob of what appeared to be some type of adhesive saliva. The greenish goop had splattered across the wood as the spikes struck before hardening and sealing the spikes in place. Lee hesitantly picked up one of the largest rocks he could find within the sand underneath his feet, which was only about the size of a fingernail, and touched the green material.

Huh. Lee tried to push the rock into the slimy-textured, three-to-four-inch-thick solid monster spit that was sprayed across his shield and holding the spikes in place with little luck. What a deadly combination that is. First, it stabs you and then it seals the projectile in place and prevents you from pulling the spike out. Lee frowned as he considered the fact that this particular blob of spit he hadn’t noticed earlier might have ended him if things had gone just a little differently, or if he hadn’t had a shield.

After a bit of consideration, he decided that he needed to make sure the spikes wouldn’t fall off. They had been such a crucial part of his last victory that he was willing to put a few points of his incredibly small mana pool into making sure they didn’t go anywhere. He expanded his mana into the shield and began concentrating on the disgusting goo. Each spike was sharp and thin and about a foot and a half long, and they would be incredibly useful in future engagements if he could use them the same way as he just had yet again. Unfortunately, when he tried to use his spirit to merge the wood and spines, he felt a massive pain in his head.

What the hell was that? Lee thought as he pressed his right hand against his temple and closed his eyes.

That was feedback pain created from an attempt to use an amount of spirit that exceeded your current capabilities. The pain occurs when one's spirit is cycled into a spell and then back into the individual after the spell manifestation fails. The conversion of spirit from spell form back into its neutral state can also cause psychic damage if the amount of spirit being converted back is too high or the user’s mind is too weak.

What the heck? This was the first time he had run into a potential wall and been faced with a risk since he started experimenting more with magic. It left him with an interesting conundrum that he would have to watch out for and worry about when trying new spells. On one hand, the less mana he put into the attempt, the more likely it was to fail and cause him pain. On the other hand, the more mana he put in to ensure that the magic actually succeeded, the more pain he would suffer if it still failed. Well, that’s just great. Lee was less than happy with this discovery. It was something he should have learned a long time ago and in a safer environment if he had ever been given the time to teach himself about the skills he had been given when he arrived in this world. He kicked himself when he thought of all the wasted time he had spent doing less important things over the last week.

Wait, then why didn’t I get hurt from the failed attempt to turn into a giant animal earlier?

In this case, there was a spell corresponding to the attempted use of spirit. In that case, there was not. You currently have no spells nor the ability to manifest a spell sufficient to accomplish that desired task. As a result, you were merely cycling the spirit through your body to no end.

Ah. Lee nodded. This was at least one silver lining to a recently-discovered dark cloud. Even though the entire process could cause him massive amounts of pain, he would be able to tell whether or not the potential of a spell existed by cycling his mana. He could start with a small amount to check whether or not it was even possible before investing a ton and risking a painful feedback.

Too bad my mana is too low to really do anything. Well, that’s not true. Glass doesn’t seem to take nearly any mana at all to make. I can make some of that . . . but . . . Lee pondered what to do, his eyes darting between the people as the guards organized another fight for him. Part of him knew he should wait. He should hold off and save his mana for an emergency. Part of him was convinced that prudent conservation was the best course of action, especially when failure in this particular game-like world resulted in death. The other part of him just smiled. The more the Firbolgs had tried to break him, harass him and make him bend, the more cocky and foolhardy he felt.

He bent down and funneled as little mana as he could into the sand and made a small, eight-ounce goblet before standing back up with it. He was rather happy that the transformation of sand into glass was apparently one of the cheaper functions in the game. He then took the slightly-purple, glowing glass and filled it with a little bit of the last remaining drops of the slime booze and held it up to the crowd. “Augustus will not stand for those empty cups! If you are to watch his miracles, and I, his Herald, perform for you, then the least you can do is honor him with a drink!” Lee shouted to the crowd, before downing the beverage and wiping his lips as if he would actually spill a single drop of that miracle juice.

He knew that it irritated the guard that hated him, but the crowd actually seemed to like it. The girl who had been fawning over him immediately raised her hand and ordered a drink from a nearby vendor. So far, so good, Lee thought with a smile. “Come on, drink with me, people!”

He looked around him for anything that could potentially be turned into something to drink--or, better yet, alcohol if he was lucky--and his eyes fell on the corpse of the monster he just killed. Well, who knows? Maybe it’ll work. Despite his earnest hopes for success, he couldn’t help but wail internally as he scooped up a cup of its blood and ran his spirit through it. Success! Lee rejoiced as he noted the change in the blood. The little show had dropped him back down to 1% mana again, but the eight-ounce cup of blood was now a fresh cup of what he mentally labeled as ‘monster wine.’ He then yelled out, “For Augustus!” before downing the entire cup.

“That’s so sweet. For me?” August’s voice responded, chuckling at Lee. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I’ll pass.”

Your actions and deeds have successfully converted 11 people to your religion. Faith has increased by 11. Current Faith: 683.

Lee laughed to himself when he saw the boost in faith. I only said ‘for Augustus,’ but what I really meant was ‘for faith points so that Augustus will send me home soon.’ I have to invest if I want a return, you know?

Chapter 6

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 17

Health: 270/270

EXP: 9654/10500

Primary Stats:

Power 27 (28)

Toughness 27 (28)

Spirit 27 (28)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 18

Intelligence 140 (147)

Honor 5

Faith 683

Personal Faith 225

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Novice Level 10

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 2

Blood Shield Initiate Level 1

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 2

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Novice Level 10

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 2

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

What else can I do with Faith aside from bringing additional resources and comforts to this world?

“Oh . . . you mean, like, aside from bringing something to this world from your own or going back?” Augustus asked. “I suppose that's possible. I think that there could be other things we could do with your Faith, but I'm not going to give you any ideas. I'd rather leave that for you to figure out.”

That’s just ridiculous. Lee couldn’t understand why Augustus was hiding something from him when it only made them both less likely to succeed. What do you mean ‘figure out’? Aren't you the one who's supposed to tell me these things? If you don't tell me, then how am I going to figure it out?

“Sorry about that, little guy, but if I told you everything right now, then we’d have nothing to discuss over our family’s Thanksgiving dinner,” Augustus laughed, “which is a lot worse of a scenario than you not knowing a few little details about this game. Trust me: as soon as I start talking about my political beliefs, people get furious. The second I say that I'm a huge supporter of the world-eating, four-eyed, purple-horned monster from another dimension, people start acting like I shot their dog. So, what if he's killed a few hundred million people and technically murdered countless species? I still think his policies on alcohol consumption are the best.”

Lee didn't even want to touch that one with a ten-foot pole. After years of being raised in one of the most volatile and hostile political environments, one that was so bad that he had actually seen an old lady get attacked for wearing a wrong-colored shirt while walking past a rally, his natural instinct was generally to shrink away from the conversation the instant politics was brought up--which is exactly what he did. Instead of responding, he just looked at the crowd and tried another angle of attack. Augustus, did I manage to convert one of the guards? Or was that Faith only from Humans?

“Surprisingly, that Faith boost came from Firbolgs. As far as I can tell, all of the Humans at the colosseum here are ones that you converted earlier.”

Lee nodded to himself at that answer. Okay, so at least I'm making some progress. I just need to keep putting on this show, perform some random miracles and keep pretending to be this larger-than-life character I’ve started to craft for myself. Except, I won't be able to pull anything off until I can recharge some more mana.

“Stop showing off, you bastard,” a voice called jovially from behind, interrupting Lee’s thoughts and the little show he had been putting on.

Lee turned around to see Dave standing there and holding a weapon.

“Dave, what in the hell are you doing here? Don't tell me I actually have to fight you.” Lee had actually been worried about that prospect. He wouldn't exactly put it past the guards here to make him fight other Humans, especially ones that he had already introduced himself to and gotten to know. It was the type of cruel and twisted thing that he could easily imagine one of these racist jerks doing.

“Oh, no. Don't worry about that. We're not going to make you fight him. It just wouldn't be a challenge, and there wouldn't be any entertainment in it. No, you two are going to fight a group of monsters instead. I've selected some of the best I could find. In fact, you probably already remember the first since you hunted them, or should I say stole their bounties, before arriving in town,” the guard said.

Cragaboom. Lee gulped. He had full faith that he and his team would be able to kill a Cragaboom with little to no effort if they had been there to support him. But with only a single other man at his side, someone with whom he had never even trained or fought beside once? The idea was far from appealing.

“Don't look so disappointed,” Dave said with a chuckle, misunderstanding Lee’s look of concern for dissatisfaction. He hefted his weapon, a giant, two-handed flail with spikes on its end that were the size of Lee's hand and a ball that was even larger than a standard-issue basketball. “It's not like a Cragaboom is actually a tough fight. We’ll handle it in a few seconds. Just watch. I’m only surprised they let me out of that prison to come join you. Let's make it a good one since I don't know if this will be my last fight before they lock me back up.”

Lee shrugged. “If you say so. I just hate the idea of fighting that thing and not getting paid for it. You know that they go for two gold a pop at the Hunter's Guild? And here we are fighting one for free.”

“That's what happens when they put all of the best adventurers in jail. If you had been here three or four months ago, you would have had trouble getting more than twenty silver pieces for a single Cragaboom. Just watch me for a moment, and I'll show you how it's done.”

And, just like that, Dave stepped forward and lunged toward the Cragaboom with blinding speed just as it entered into the arena. He didn't even give the creature time to orient itself before descending upon it with his giant flail, smashing into it so hard that it lost half of its teeth and was thrown onto its back before its drill could so much as penetrate the colosseum’s sand. The monster screamed and shifted while trying to stand up, but Dave just struck it again with the flail, smashing pieces of rock and bits of its razor-sharp teeth out with the devastating blow.

“See? All yours now. Go ahead and take the finishing hit,” Dave said as he turned around and looked at Lee.

Lee was left standing in shock. He hadn't expected Dave to even be able to hold up his own weight, much less to be able to cripple the creature in two blows, and it left Lee wondering how Dave had even been captured in the first place. Lee didn't exactly have a high opinion of the guards that had arrested him to begin with, and Dave seemed to be much more skilled than Lee had been he was brought in.

“Well, are you going to take out the damn thing? Or do I need to do it myself? I thought I would give you the kill shot out of politeness, but if you don’t want it, that’s fine.” Dave picked up his flail and broke one of the Cragaboom’s arms off with a single hit.

“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll take the kill,” Lee said, not turning down free experience. Cragabooms were worth a lot, and he didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. He walked over, smiled a thank you at Dave, and then stabbed the Cragaboom until the death notice appeared.

You have killed a Cragaboom. Your party has been awarded 1 Eye of the Cragaboom and 3498 Experience. Your share of this is 875 Experience.

You have reached Level 18! Your level increase has boosted all primary stats by 1. Your current Power, Toughness and Spirit have been adjusted to 28. You are 12471 Experience away from Level 19.

“Thanks,” Lee said when he was finished.

“It's no problem. I'll be sure to leave some entirely to you in the case we’re fighting a group. You can get more training in that way, but I just couldn't help myself with only one of them here and me not having stretched my legs in forever.”

Lee was tempted to tell Dave that it wasn’t a problem if he wanted to kill everything on his own, but then he remembered that he was sorely lacking in skill. “Well, if you give me some time to pray, I'll be able to get us some drinks to celebrate this as thanks.”

There was little time for celebrating, however. The guards had seen how quickly the Cragaboom was killed off and sent out a new wave of monsters. Instead of something fancy and new that Lee had never seen before, it was just a pack of twenty dire wolves: big, mean, ugly dire wolves. Lee took a knee as he pretended to pray to Augustus in the most showy and lavish fashion possible, and he didn’t even have to move as Dave cleaned up the canine carnivores. One hit from the wrecking ball at the end of his flail was all it took to cripple and maim a wolf.

“You want me to leave these for you to take the kill shot on as well?” Dave asked. It was obvious that the amount of experience he would get was nothing to him and that he had no qualms at all about just giving it all to Lee. Since Lee was still at the starting line of his adventures, and he was desperate for the EXP, he quickly nodded while taking care not to interrupt his fake prayer. Lee sighed. I wish my mana would fill up faster so that I can stop pretending. The things I have to do to be a good con man.

He took the time while he was waiting to have the golem that didn’t have a gut full of letters start stockpiling food under one of the seats closest to their prison cell. He figured that, even if the guards didn't stick him there again, it would still be much easier to take food from that location rather than having to go searching for it every time.

“Father.” Lee cringed when he heard Dave say the word. “I know you’re praying to the god for food or booze, but you might want to take a moment and kill these wolves. If we take too long, they might shoot us full of arrows.”

“Ah, fine. One moment then.” Lee quickly moved from wolf to wolf, shearing their heads off by using the edge of his shield. So . . . this is the joy of powerleveling . . . It was a common trick in most video games--to have a pro who was near the top level help out noobs who had just started--and it could turn a seven-to-ten-day grind into a three-to-four-hour one. The earlier fights had already been a huge boost to his experience, and he now had the pleasure of getting more even-tougher kills at a faster rate.

In return, Lee did his part too. Every time his mana increased by 10%, he would take 3% of his total and convert a large portion of the blood he collected into liquor so that the two would have something to drink. He even went so far as to use some of it to create glass cups and plates to take the extra drinks with him.

This routine continued for a while. The faster Dave knocked them down and Lee finished them off, the faster the guards let out more mobs. They kept coming in droves for hours, and while Lee helped as much as he could, he was barely present in most of the battles. Thanks to the difficulty of his opponents and the speed at which Dave would destroy them, Lee was jumping levels like crazy, however. He started the day at level 17, and by the time his mana bar hit 40%, he was already over three-fourths of the way through level 19 on his way to level 20. It was insane. They were doing their best to punish Dave, to push him into the ground and make him eat dirt, and yet here he was: a mass-murdering, flail-wielding beast who was pushing Lee to heights that might have taken weeks to reach on his own.

The guards stopped the waves of monsters when the sun disappeared behind the colosseum, and by the time the day was done, his inventory was stocked full with monster parts, and he was halfway through Level 20. All things considered, it was a very good day for Lee. The random miracles and glass working had even managed to convert some of the audience. He had racked up quite a healthy bit of Faith, and he was now just one guard shy of easily making his way back to the real world.

Thank you, teacher. Lee laughed to himself as he looked at the heaps of bodies strung across the sands. He studied the guards as they opened the gates and prepared to lead him and Dave back to the cells. He was going to make his final gambit now. He reached into his inventory and pulled out a full glass of monster-blood-turned-beverage, and as he walked up to the guard who had sympathized with him earlier, he extended the glass. "Here, this is for your troubles. I hope that it wasn't too much of a hassle bringing in a new contestant on such a hot day. I'm sure they woke you up even earlier than me, and I hope there's no hard feelings."

Lee hated being nice to somebody who was, without a doubt, judging him solely on his race. It actually made his stomach twist and turn, but he needed to do this. Out of all the guards that he had run into, Oran was the one with whom he had the most positive interactions. He knew that the more time he spent talking to somebody, the less likely they were to judge him superficially. As long as the interactions were pleasant, the fact that he was a Human would matter less and less. That's why, even though there was still a big social divide between them, he did his best to try to be nice. He needed a win. He needed this guard to believe in him. He had already performed several miracles that were said to be impossible, so if he was going to convert one, this Oran fellow would be the one.

"What the blasted lands do you mean by this? What are you trying to do?" the guard asked suspiciously. He stared at the glass as it was handed to him and then swirled the liquid around before giving it a sniff as if it were poison.

Lee took the glass back from the man and then sipped it before handing it back. "It's not poison, and it's perfectly fine to drink. Go ahead and give it a try."

After a moment's hesitation and a little more twirling of the beverage inside the glass, the guard finally took a small sip.

Quaid guffawed when he saw his comrade taking a sip of a beverage handed to him by a Human, and his facial expression was priceless. "What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t take that from him! How do you know you're not cursed now? You've seen the ridiculous magic he's done inside the arena, and for all you know, his honeyed words are just to help him spring this trap. Why would you even drink that?"

"It doesn't taste that bad! In fact, it’s better than anything I've had served to me in the last year. It kind of tastes like . . . that delicious, fruity stuff the Aes Sidhe used to make.” The guard took a big gulp this time and swished it back and forth in his mouth. “Yeah, just like that but less sweet.”

"It could still be poisoned. There are sweet poisons. You still might die from that crap, so why in the blasted lands would you drink it?" the guard admonished his coworker, reaching over to grab the glass from the man's hand but failing as the imbibing guard stepped back and held onto the cup firmly.

"Gentlemen, you have nothing to worry about. This is a gift from Augustus. He is doing this, sir, because your good friend believes. He knows that he is already considering him and believes in his abilities. Unlike you, who are still filled with doubt, this man has seen the light. There are none that cannot be blessed by Augustus, and a little faith will go a long way. For those who have absolute belief, anything is possible.”

He could tell from Oran's expression that he was slowly but surely being moved in the right direction. Unlike his companion, this man was wide-eyed and calm. He was drinking from the cup Lee had given him, nodding right along with Lee's words. Maybe this particular Firbolg isn’t that racist. Or maybe he needs belief for something . . . He might have lost a loved one? Or maybe he was close friends with a Human before the schism?

"I would have thought that my performance and the things I've shown to you would be enough. But, if you still need more convincing, you know exactly where to find me. After all, you're the ones walking me home tonight." Then, before he turned to leave, Lee decided to take a stab in the dark. "But, before you do, I want you to know that Augustus can help you with what has been weighing on your mind.” He intentionally kept the subject as vague as possible. It was a trick he had seen on TV a thousand times, and he had no real belief that it would work in real life, but he figured it was worth a try. It’s only one guard, so if this fails, what’s the most I lose? Lee smiled, putting a hand on the guard’s shoulder. “He already knows your problem.”

"His problem?" the other guard said, looking very confused. "What problem does he have, and how in the blasted lands is your stupid god going to help him? Stop trying to yank his chain, stupid cledor. It's just a stupid waste of your time and ours."

"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about,” the guard responded, wrapping both of his hands around the cup Lee had given him and tensing up.

"Yes, you do." Lee had to hide a ridiculously-big grin as he realized exactly how vulnerable this poor man was. He wasn’t necessarily any nicer than the other guard; he was, however, less inclined to succumb to peer-pressure-induced prejudice. Some recent, tragic event had given him an unusual burst of empathy. "Augustus knows of your loss, and even though you think no one can tell, he can."

Yup, I’ve hit a new low. I’m picking on the worst emotional scab a person can carry to further my shameless lies. Lee faltered as he realized what he was doing--taking advantage of someone’s recent loss to push his own agenda--but then he remembered how he got here and why he needed to convert this guy, and he suddenly didn’t feel bad about his behavior anymore.

The guard looked away and sighed. “But . . . you can’t help. It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late for Augustus to help,” Lee said, resting his free hand on Oran’s other shoulder. “If your intentions about this matter are pure, he can save what is already lost.”

“He . . . He can?” the guard asked hesitantly.

The other Firbolg was clearly growing angrier with every passing exchange. “Stop listening to this tall-browed cledor rat! He’s just trying to get into your head! He’s messing with you!”

“But . . . He knew! And even you didn’t! I didn’t tell anyone at work, so how could he know?” Oran asked confusedly.

Doubt had seeped into the guard’s head, and Lee relished it. I don’t know. I just took a second gamble, and your face told me I was right. How the heck are people so gullible? Then he remembered that they probably had little to no formal education most of their life--something that had taught him to doubt and question almost everything. Yup . . . Thank God for required education as a kid that stressed critical thought. I could have ended up like this guy without it.

“He could have . . .” The other guard floundered as he tried to come up with an alternative reason. “I don’t know, man. I just know that he’s a cledor. A rat. Look at that stupid mile-high forehead and those bulgy eyes. He’s a cledor rat. And they lie. They all lie. He’s lying, and he’s trying to use you. That’s what they do, man.”

Lee waved his hand dismissively, pushing aside the other guard’s doubts. “Why would I trick you? I gain nothing from this but your faith, not freedom, reprieve or better living conditions. Even if you believe, I could still die tomorrow.” They don’t understand the religion game or faith points, so as far as they’re concerned, I just removed their only good reason to suspect an ulterior motive. “You don't have to release me or do any favors for me. You just have to believe. That's all Augustus asks of you. We can ease the suffering.” He wasn't even sure if the guard had lost a family member or friend, but he knew that it was someone close to the guard, or else his talk right now would have been dismissed already.

"But . . . How is he going to help her? She's dead. You can’t bring the dead back to life, can you?” The guard paused, looked at Lee and then shook his head. “No, you can’t. That’s stupid. It’s a stupid question. Don’t try to play games with me.”

"I'm not playing games with you, and no, I won't bring anyone back to life," Lee said, looking the man directly in the eyes. "Instead, what I can offer you is peace of mind. This world is full of hardships. It's a test of our endurance. No one can avoid suffering in this world, and even if we brought her back, she would just suffer again. The trials and tribulations of everyday life would weigh on her day after day. What I’m offering is something different, something that is even better than life here in this world.”

"What could possibly be better than life here?” the guard asked, his voice shaky and unsteady. “That doesn't make sense. If she's not alive, then of course she won't suffer. But she won't know happiness either. She won't exist at all. How is suffering worse than not existing?" Lee had obviously hit a nerve. The only thing that bothered him was that he still didn't know anything about who this person was. He didn’t know how old she was, what she looked like, or how she was related to the guard. He only knew that this person was a woman who was close to the guard.

"When we die, our soul stays alive. It goes to a place that nobody wants to be, and Augustus can help. He can take her soul from their and move it to a world where she will never suffer again . . . a world where all of her needs will be met and happiness can be achieved without effort . . . a world without hunger, stress or pain." Lee did his best to maintain eye contact while keeping a straight face. Given his situation, he couldn’t say he really liked the man, and the guards were all complicit in Kirshtein’s rotten justice system, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that what he was doing was wrong. No matter how much he told himself that the reason he was doing it was for the people back in Satterfield or the people who were currently suffering in this town, he couldn’t shake the sleazy feeling it gave him. If he didn't make it back to his world, and he didn't train, then everyone would be worse off for it. He needed the skills and knowledge he could develop there to help everyone, but this step in getting there was anything but easy.

"So, you're saying that she’s currently in pain?" the guard asked anxiously, his eyes growing wide and his mouth hanging open.

"I'm saying that she doesn't have to be . . . that she didn't have the choice when she was alive. But you do now. All you have to do is accept Augustus's open hand. Do that, and both of you will never have to worry about what happens after you die again. If you believe in Augustus, you can be with her when you die. That is, just so long as you don't take your own life to get there.”

Through continued use of deception, you have received +1 Deceit. Current Deceit: 19.

"That's nonsense! You heard what the one true Herald said," the other guard protested, interrupting Lee’s speech. "He said that those dastardly, weak-armed Humans will say anything they can to twist and manipulate us. He warned us that we shouldn’t listen to them because they’re nothing but liars! He's lying right now: there is no afterlife! There is nothing. She's dead, and there’s nothing that you can do to bring her back."

Lee silently backed away. He had already delivered what he considered a fatal blow, and he didn't see the need to push further. If he pushed any more, he would come across as desperate. Desperate people don't make sales, and that's exactly what he was trying to do right now: sell. It was clear that the guard had taken the bait from the expression on his face, so Lee didn’t see the need to comfort him any longer. Instead, after allowing the man a moment of reflection, Lee said quietly, "I'm not going to force you. Augustus can help you if you want, but he doesn't have to. It's your choice."

"I don’t know about the dead or a life after this one, but faith fed my belly when I was starving, so I highly recommend it. But, then again, I'm kind of biased," Dave added from behind. "Anyone who feeds me will generally have my support."

"You lost loved ones too. Don't think that Augustus won't take care of them as well," Lee said. He couldn't exactly tell what Dave’s resulting expression was meant to convey, but he knew that Dave didn't look comfortable as he shrugged and looked away. The subject was obviously still too sore for him.

The guard looked away again as well. "I . . . I don't know what to think. If you say he can help . . . then . . . maybe . . . No, I don't know."

"Well, your choice. Gentlemen, I think it's about time somebody brought me to my cell. I'm kind of knackered from being attacked all day long, and I think that my buddy and I could use some relaxation, some drinks and a place to rest our heads. I've heard that you fine fellows have quite the selection of dust-covered dirt floors to sleep on, and I’ve had my eye on a certain special cramped space next to a sweaty old man who hasn't bathed in months. It seemed lovely, if you don't mind me saying."

“Right,” the other guard said, turning to face Lee and striking him across the face so hard that it did 6 damage. “Don't think I’ve forgotten what I owed you from this afternoon.”

That’s right! You only stopped hitting me because I still had to go on the sands. Lee grimaced as he remembered that but quickly controlled his expression so that he wouldn’t give the smug idiot any more satisfaction. “That’s it? Didn’t want to collect interest?” Lee taunted, earning him another strike. He was now short 12 hit points from full health since he had had plenty of time to heal via mana usage and basic regeneration during the power-leveling adventure earlier.

The angry guard snarled as he struck Lee a third time and then turned back to the other guard. “If I think that you are taking his words a little too seriously, then I'm gonna have to report you. We might work together, but I won't tolerate a sympathizer."

“I'm not stupid enough to buy into what he is saying," Oran said. Lee almost burst out laughing because, as a soon as the guard spoke, a notification for Faith appeared in front of him in the usual blue box.

Your actions and deeds have successfully converted 1 person to your religion. Faith has increased by 1. Current Faith: 684.

You get that, Augustus? Is that a receipt for my ticket home? He knew that the god was watching, and he didn’t even need an answer to know that it was exactly what he needed. He would have to wait until nightfall and some alone time, but this was still great news nonetheless. Step 1 of the plan? Complete success. Step 2? Figure out how to afford all the education I’m going to need in the other world. Between the powerlevel, the knowledge that he was going to get a trip home and the fact that he had survived the sands, his first day at hell-camp, gladiator edition, was going swimmingly.

“Right. Hey, Dave, do you play poker?" Lee asked, walking off in the direction that he knew his cell was in. “I feel like a few drinks and a game of poker would be perfect after the day we’ve had."

"What's poker?" Dave asked as he followed along. "I never heard of it."

"It's a card game like . . . Something you can play with your friends while drinking. You guys have card games, right?" Lee didn’t even have to look over to know that the answer was no. "Never mind. I'll just have to teach you guys. I'm not sure what we'll bet to keep the game fun, but I'm sure we can think of something. After all, if I'm going to be stuck in prison, I want to fulfill every single childhood cliché I can--and one of those was playing cards with other inmates."

Dave laughed, ignoring the spiteful look the guard cast in his direction. "A game? Sounds fun, so you can count me in."

Everybody was waiting for them as they arrived back in the cell, and as soon as Dave and Lee walked in the door, the entire room stood up. Half of them had their hands open and waiting, and Lee knew exactly what they wanted. They were hungry. It was doubtful that the few he had helped before he left had shared any with the others, and now they all wanted some too.

Luckily enough, one of the golems had been hard at work gathering ingredients for Lee’s dinner the entire time he was away. The stockpile of food was close enough that it would only take a minute to make a run back and forth, and it had grown so big that the rodent had been forced to dig a small hole into one of the thick colosseum walls in order to keep it hidden. Sadly, they hadn’t yet been able to tunnel through completely. That was something that he was going to have the two golems work on overnight. If they could tunnel a connecting path, even with a tiny hole, then it would be the perfect way to sneak food in and out without risking either of them being caught.

Lee pretended to pray, just as he had done before and then started distributing meals to those who professed belief in Augustus, which earned him a few more faith points. It took a while to get all the meals together since there were so many more this time, but he was able to use the time to convert more of the monster blood he had harvested into something drinkable while he was waiting. The whole process took Lee nearly half an hour, but considering that it earned him a good amount of faith and improved both his stealth and sleight of hand, he considered it time well spent.

Your mastery of Sleight of Hand has progressed from the rank of Initiate Level 2 to the rank of Initiate Level 3. Sleight of Hand now allows for better unseen manipulation of small objects.

Due to improving Sleight of Hand, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 141.

Due to the sneaky activity of your golems, your mastery of Sneak has progressed from the rank of Novice Level 10 to the rank of Journeyman Level 1. This skill improves one’s ability to stay hidden, move silently and act undetected.

Due to improving Sneak, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 142.

Then, while Dave was bragging about his exploits on the sands and everyone had stopped paying attention to Lee, he took that time to pull out the stack of papers that he had received from the mysterious man. Amusingly, Miller's letter, which was on top, started off with a series of titles: 'To the Herald, the God of Fire, the Son of Augustus . . .’ The exhaustive intro consumed nearly three lines of text, but the message then rapidly devolved into a series of slurs, profanities, and angry promises as Miller explained the graphic, gruesome and horrifying ways that he would use to kill the people responsible for arresting Lee. His descriptions were so vivid and thorough that Lee had no problem imagining every single kill, and he knew that the Firbolg wouldn’t hesitate to fulfill his promises. It was slightly-comforting knowing that someone would go to such extremes for him, but it was also disturbing in its own right.

The next letter was from Ling. It was rather well written, and the handwriting was so immaculate, so neat and perfect, that Lee was suspicious as to whether or not it might have been printed from a computer. She added a unique flourish to each letter in a way that reminded him of the stereotype of middle-school-aged girls capping the letter ‘i’ with hearts when they wrote love letters.

Still, despite its flowery typography, the letter’s contents were more or less nothing more than a diary written in third-person. Rather than saying anything about herself, she had instead opted to write about what was going on with everyone else in the group: the madness Miller was seemingly experiencing and the depression Amber was going through. According to her, Miller had gone off the deep end the moment he learned that Lee had been arrested, mumbling to himself about how they need ‘more soldiers,’ about how ‘the army was too small’ and about how ‘Satterfield wouldn’t be enough.’ The Firbolg’s obsession was apparently bad enough for Ling to start becoming concerned. Amber and Ling had originally wanted to head back to Satterfield, but Miller had apparently needed convincing. He had wanted to go to another town instead for some reason that Ling couldn't comprehend. They were finally able to convince him to focus and head to Satterfield, but only after offering to help him complete the errand he was so insistent upon. They would apparently have to wake up very early to help him with this, and as such, Ling apologized that her letter wouldn't be very long.

Somehow, Ling seemed even more worried about Amber. It had taken the young woman nearly an hour to stop crying after Lee was arrested, and she had apparently gone on about her brother for quite a while as well. She whined about how Lee was going to leave her the same way her brother had--to disappear after being abducted and to never return or be seen again.

The news made Lee reconsidered the nature of his relationship with Amber for a moment. What exactly are my feelings for her? Does she view me in the same vein as a family member or . . .? It was hard to pin down his own feelings and put a label on them because, other than sleeping next to her and occasionally holding her hand, they hadn't done anything that two friends wouldn’t do.

Lastly, he opened up Amber’s letter. Unlike Ling’s, which somehow managed to feel cute and neat despite its dire contents because of the handwriting, this one was hastily written in a chicken-scratch-like drawl that reminded him of his own and was blunt and straight to the point. There were no promises of vengeance and no updates on what anyone was doing or how they felt. Instead, it was filled with questions. How come Augustus hadn't helped Lee when he was arrested? Why didn't Augustus help him now? What could possibly be so wrong with the town that they would arrest an innocent person? Why are there two Heralds? The last question offered some small insight since it let Lee know that someone had explained the situation to them in at least some capacity.

A number of other small questions like how Lee was doing or if Lee had food in prison or if he could sleep or if he was comfortable filled up the rest of the letter. She finished with ‘Come back soon’ and a signature resembling something that would make a doctor envious. Lee felt like someone had punched him in the gut as he read the last line. He didn't know why, but not seeing something like 'Love you,' 'I miss you,' ‘Yours truly,’ or any of a dozen other expressions of endearment at the letter's close made him feel somewhat amiss.

Dave must have been watching because he started laughing the moment Lee’s expression turned sour. Walking over and sitting down next to him, David sighed and said, "Ah, the famous prison break-up letter. I think every single person here has gotten one of those in the last month. It's really a shame. It almost makes me thankful for the fact that I’m the only guy who was single when I got here--not that I haven't gotten one of those letters before. I received more than my fair share while I was in the military. Apparently, ‘I'll love you forever’ really means ‘I will love you unless we happen to be separated for more than two months.’ That’s apparently how long I can be away from a girl before she comes to her senses . . . Or maybe it’s about how long before she realizes exactly how many better-looking guys are out there. But, then, that could just be me. It might actually just take that long before the alcohol wears off and they realize what a mistake they’ve made and think, ‘Oh, god, what if our children have his face?’ And then they write the letter. I always ended up looking exactly like you do right now. Happened every deployment. I always enjoyed the part in the middle where they tried to blame you for it, like it was somehow your fault that they were breaking up with you."

Lee would have corrected Dave on his misunderstanding, but Dave didn't even seem to pick up on the fact that Lee wanted to say something. He just kept on talking without so much as a pause to take a breath.

"The fact that yours took less than a day to show up is actually a blessing. I mean, if she couldn't even wait a full day, then she’s probably been meaning to do it all along anyway. So be happy. Be grateful. If you manage to get out of here alive, you won't end up wasting your time on a woman who was too indecisive to break up with you beforehand. Trust me: all you’ll have to do is pick a bar, show up and use those divine tricks to get yourself a pretty bartender. Bartenders are the best, let me tell you. I've always dreamed of hooking up with one of them. Not the male ones of course. You know what I mean. Those beautiful, wonderful, alcohol-dispensing creatures sent by Augustus himself to bring joy to the hearts of men. Yeah, with your talents, you'll easily succeed where I haven't. You can go where no old and grumbling man like me has gone before."

Lee wanted to correct Dave and explain to him that bartenders weren’t actually divine messengers sent by Augustus, but then he ended up laughing along with him instead. After all, based on the way that he was talking, he might just have a better understanding of Augustus than Lee did. For all the previous talk of honor, the man was currently reveling in the good old days of women and alcohol, and if he had managed to mention crafts, then he would have been on track to take up the mantle of a proper disciple worthy of Miller’s zealousness--the newer edition, anyway, with all of the murder-and-beer-loving goodness with new women-chasing lectures included.

Good job, Dave, Lee thought to himself. Now, we just need to introduce you to bacon. Something struck Lee as odd, and it took him a moment to puzzle out what it was about the analogy between the two men that wasn't quite right. Then it hit him: In the entire time that Lee had known him, Miller had never actually mentioned or talked about women. Despite all the time that they had spent together, not once had they talked about love, crushes or even a nice figure. Does Miller even like a callipygian woman? What kind of features do Firbolgs look for in a woman? What if he’s into Neanderthal-level unibrows and hair on the arms? What if that gorgeous guard captain earlier is actually really ugly for Firbolgs, and that’s why she was so angry and mean? She probably hangs around men all day long and still can’t get a date outside of a Human, and now with the racism ramped up to a whole new level, she can’t bring any of her boyfriends home. Yup, that has to be it.

“Well, if it helps you to continue to make fun of me, we aren’t even really dating,” Lee said, holding up the letter. “She just shows up in my bed at night.”

“So, you sleep with her, but aren’t dating? Kids these days. What is wrong with you? Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not about the quantity of the women you sleep with? That it’s about the number of the times you get to sleep with a woman?”

“We don’t even sleep together like that. We . . . actually sleep . . .” Lee cringed as he said it. He knew that he was going to be in for a ton of ribbing.

“Wait, you . . . You aren’t cursed to never bed a woman again as a priest in exchange for your magical powers and stuff, are you? Augustus doesn’t have those kinds of Heralds, does he? Or . . . are you one of those kinds that are into guys? Now, don’t get me wrong. I heard about things like that during my days as a soldier, but--”

“No, nothing like that,” Lee said hastily, cutting him off. “We just haven’t known each other very long . . . And, well, it’s just complicated . . .” Lee shook his head, trailing off before he said something that would likely be offensive. Wait, why the heck am I even explaining anything to you to begin with? I don’t need to prove anything to you. My relationship with Amber or Ling or any woman is between me and the girl.

“You could try explaining it to me,” Augustus’s said as his voice popped into Lee’s head. “I’m kinda curious myself. You’re supposed to be the Herald of Alcohol and Crafts, and you haven’t been to a single party, much less hosted one. You’ve had a few nights drinking, sure, but you’re severely lacking on the ‘hold my beer’ moments since you got here. You should be more proactive in spreading the lifestyle.”

“Complicated? What’s complicated?” Dave asked, oblivious to Augustus. “If you like a girl, you like her. If you like her in the kind of way that you want to bed her, then just tell her. Either she says ‘no,’ and you respect that and move the hell on, or she says ‘yes,’ and you get to have some fun. No harm, no foul, no need to waste your time chasing fool’s gold or waiting forever to mine the real stuff.”

Augustus’s cackle was grating Lee’s mind. “The man has a point.”

“Well, I still got another letter to read. Let me get back to it,” Lee responded a bit curtly.

“Go for it. I’m also just surprised you managed to get one in here, much less four. We usually only ever get mail and letters at the end of the week, but I guess, with you being a Herald, maybe there is some secret way to get letters from believers. Not sure how they send it, though . . .” Dave kept muttering to himself as he stood up, dusted himself off and went back to the place he had laid down earlier to sleep.

“A word of advice,” he said as he stretched out on the ground, “Keep the letters. Even if you don’t like what they say, they gotta be softer than this hard ground.”

Lee frowned as he leaned back and pulled out the final letter. This one was just as precise and orderly as Ling’s, but it was neither cute nor personalized, and Lee didn’t know the sender.

Lee,

I’ll keep this short and to the point: I must apologize for getting you arrested. I also offer my sincerest condolences that we went through the trouble of finding a lawyer that, while great at his craft, is pompous enough to ensure the guards overseeing your arrest would insist on trying to kill you off early via the colosseum. You must understand that, if I hadn’t done this, you were slated to be killed as you tried to leave town in the morning. I received word of your assassination contract, and I regret to inform you that, even after contacting the organization, we can’t get the bounty removed.

For that reason, we found it easier to simply put you somewhere safe where you wouldn’t be motivated to take an unnecessary risk. The colosseum isn’t that bad. We have faith that you’ll be able to stay alive, especially since we bribed the guards to pair you with Dave. He is reported to be the greatest Human fighter to still be alive in Kirshtein. We are aware that the sleeping conditions are atrocious, and that you’ll likely miss your party, and that is why I am explaining the situation to you now. You may consider it a betrayal, and you may wish it in your heart to take revenge on us, but please understand that my master and I are doing this for your own good. We cannot afford to let the only Human Herald die before our town is freed.

Impress the people, earn a name, and hone your skills in combat. We cannot prevent the trial from occurring for more than a week, two at tops, and at that point, you will be free, and the assassins will come for you. I’ll also do my best to pass letters from outside in and from inside out. If you wish to forward any instructions to your friends, find two blank pages attached to this one for your use.

Both I and my master wish you the utmost success. Be well, our Herald, and I hope you will forgive us for acting in the best interest of our cause.

The letter didn’t have a signature or name to go with it, but Lee knew it was most likely the same man who had passed the stack to Ethan. Lee took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down so that he could think over the events. So, this wasn’t just because of the murdered Firbolgs. They thought that I was good enough to handle the colosseum without any issue, but they didn’t trust me to be able to go up against the assassins that have been hired to kill me. Who would even want to kill me to begin with? Lee stared at the page in front of him as he tried to unpack all of the information that was there and what had been left unsaid.

“The other Herald, you idiot,” Augustus answered for him. “Why would you even ask a pointless question like that? Have you forgotten that, besides the racist bigots in this town, there is still a representative who is hell-bent on destroying all the other ones? This is, for better or worse, a sort of ‘there can be only one’ kind of world unless someone collects all the fragments of the world stone.

How many fragments and Heralds are there? Lee asked Augustus. Are there a ton? Is it hard to find them?

“World stone fragments? Far fewer than Heralds. There are only a handful, all pretty well hidden, and once you collect them all, it unlocks the final trial. But that’s the type of gambit that most don’t want to deal with when it’s much easier to just send lackeys to kill off any upstart, divinity-claiming magic users,” Augustus explained. “With you flaunting my name everywhere, how did you not think someone would want to kill you?”

Of course, because if I knew someone was associated to you, I’d definitely think about killing them too, Lee snidely shot back.

“Hey, your mother is associated with me! And by blood! Are you going to try to kill your mother?” Between Lee’s remark and Augustus’s comeback, Lee felt like he was back in grade school.

Well, at least I guess there’s comfort in knowing that someone definitely is trying to kill me. It’d be worse not to know. It’s also good to know who is keeping me alive, Lee thought, looking over at Dave.

“So, you got things straightened out in your head yet?” Augustus asked. “Ready for me to send you back to The Land of Beer and Honey?”

Yeah, I got a rough idea of what I need to do, Lee answered with a nod.

“Which is? ‘Cause you can’t just kill the Herald and fix this town. I shouldn’t be giving you too much advice, but you need to think hard about how to handle this. If you don’t, you might be buying a comb at the price of your hair.”

Lee recoiled at the last line. What does that even mean? How are my goals not clear? Get better at fighting so that I can free myself? Free the Humans in this town from these racist Firbolgs? Do my best to reduce the number of people that have to die in this world over the fighting of Heralds. Isn’t that always the goal? To help the people out?

“See, it’s thinking like that makes me think you’re such a moron,” Augustus said scoldingly. “You need to use your head and drink some beer. You could learn a thing or two from Miller--or Dave. He seems like a great guy too.”

Lee just sighed, having had enough of this conversation. Just send me back when you’re ready.

“Sure. That’s fine. I’ll send you back sometime in the night. Just don’t waste your time before you go to sleep,” Augustus said. “You’ve got a busy day tomorrow, in both this world and the other.”

Lee didn’t know exactly what he needed to do once the conversation was finished, so he passed the time thinking about what Augustus had said: that his ideas were too short-sighted. Even if he often mocked Augustus, growing frustrated and treating him like nothing more than an idiotic, drunk, frat guy from college, Augustus was still a being that had been around for a long time. No one lived that long without learning a few things, and he had probably seen dozens of scenarios just like the one Lee was currently in. The worst part was that Lee really didn’t know what to do after he got free. How do I stop the decline of a city that has already reached the point where justice has devolved into madness? How do I save an entire race of people from such a horrible fate when they and so many others have already fled in terror?

Wait a minute, they didn’t confiscate our weapons . . . It would have made sense for the guards to take the prisoners’ arms as soon as they were done with the fight in the arena, leaving them defenseless in the jail cells, but they hadn’t. He started to ask Dave if this was typical but saw that he was already asleep with his hand resting on his belly and a smile planted on his face. Well, I’d be pretty content too if I got to eat a proper meal for the first time in months, Lee thought, deciding not to bother the man further by waking him up. If they mistakenly left him with his sword, even if it was only because of its low-quality nature and inferior material, he wasn’t keen on letting anyone know he had it on him. He had enough points to get a new one tomorrow, something he definitely planned on doing, but he was going to hold onto this one for as long as he could.

An idea struck him as he looked around his cell. Sure enough, the tables were all put together using metal nails. I hope you don’t mind . . . Silently sliding over to it, Lee began trying to pull one out. He thought he might be able to get it by wiggling it with his fingernail a bit and digging around, but it turned out to be an utter failure.

Worse comes to worst, I have to spend some mana healing my hands . . . Lee grumbled to himself as he put a hand on the dirt floor and tried to shape the hard-packed earth into a hammer the same way he had made the sand into glass. The only thing that happened was that his initial 1% mana usage resulted in a shock straight to his brain

Great, Lee thought, rubbing his head to try to assuage the pain. Swapping tactics, he had his two golems gather up sand from the arena and bring it to him. It took a while, but he eventually had enough to feel confident about his chances. Next, he had them fetch nails from the seats around the colosseum. Using their teeth and claws, they were easily able to dig nails out of the chairs. Lee even made sure to have them target the chairs in the fancy-looking boxes first. He wanted to make sure that the butts hitting the ground when their seats collapsed were properly rich and pompous.

Once the materials were in Lee’s hand, he started to form them. First, he started with the sand. This time, he was able to take his time and check with the system to find out exactly how things worked. According to the system, the sand weighed a little over three grams. Pushing his spirit into the small pile, he molded it into a glass object and then glanced down at his mana bar. Surprisingly, it hadn’t even moved.

What in the heck? he thought, a little annoyed that he couldn’t do the calculations. System, did I even lose mana making this little glass bobble?

Yes. A percentage of your spirit did go into making the item, but it was too small for your current mana bar format to display.

Okay then, Lee thought, pulling out a nail instead. The system informed him that the nails were a little bigger than the two-inch finishing nails he was used to seeing back home and weighed just over a gram. Holding up three, he pushed his spirit into each and fused them together. Once again, he realized the amount used was so small that he couldn’t even see the difference.

He wasn’t sure how much spirit he would need, but he figured it wouldn’t be a problem for something so small. The total fusion occurred seamlessly, and at first glance at his mana bar, he was shocked. Wait, that didn’t use any mana either? Lee wondered, staring at the bar, but then he realized that wasn’t the case. No, it used some, but just a small amount. It used about .3% of my total mana, Lee noted. Then he pulled out some more nails and continued his experiment of merging them, noticing that it seemed to use exactly .1% mana per 1 gram of metal he was melding. This meant that 10 grams would eat an entire percentage point, and it would take 3 percent of his total mana to shape a single ounce of metal.

You have learned the divine skill Spirit Smithing. This skill is currently at Initiate Level 1. This skill allows the forming, shaping and tempering of metals using Spirit alone. The skill also increases basic understanding of metal weapons and armor. Spirit Smithing improves mana management by 5% per rank and improves the durability, armor value and weapon damage of metal items by 2.5% per rank.

You have been awarded 2 Intelligence for discovering a new skill without the assistance of class trainers or a manual. Current Intelligence: 144.

Lee had been hoping for this to happen, but he frowned as soon as he read the numbers. This means I’m a long way off from crafting my own weapon from iron, doesn’t it? It meant that the ability to craft a shortsword or a longsword was in the future, but with such a small, incremental improvement, it would be a very long time before he was able to craft armor. Given that even a smaller sword would weigh at least around 2.5 pounds, or about 1130 grams, he would need a 13% increase in his mana pool or a good decrease in the cost of Spirit Smithing just to make a small sword. It was going to be a daunting amount, and Lee was quite glad he had experimented with the nails first, measuring out the ratios before sinking his entire spirit bar into attempting to make a big weapon only to receive the feedback damage that would occur afterward.

Lee wasn’t sure what he wanted to make with the nails, but after a lot of thinking, he started changing and fashioning them into coils. After some playing with the nails a bit, he also realized that the weight of the item also helped determine how long it would take to smith it with mana. Thanks to the system’s calculator, he was able to figure out that each ounce of metal would roughly translate to a tad over a minute of time.

Finally, satisfied with his results and running out of materials to work with, he decided to just keep making and remaking the springs to raise his Spirit Smithing. He did this over and over again until he finally ran out of mana. At Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 2 and with zero mana, he finally gave up and went to sleep.

Right as he was passing out, he noticed one final system notification:

Your mastery of Golem Sculpting has progressed from the rank of Novice Level 10 to the rank of Journeyman Level 1. The Journeyman rank grants a 20% speed bonus to all golems. Golem Sculpting now allows for the sculpting of three golems instead of two. Current Combat Bonus: 178.60%. Golems created by Golem Sculpting may now take up an additional 5% more space. Current Max Space: 5.56 fluid ounces.

Due to improving Golem Sculpting, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 146.

Chapter 7

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 20

Health: 300/300

EXP: 9002/17000

Primary Stats:

Power 30 (31)

Toughness 30 (31)

Spirit 30 (31)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 19

Intelligence 146 (153)

Honor 5

Faith 740

Personal Faith 234

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Journeyman Level 1

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 1

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 2

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 2

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 2

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

Lee awoke to find himself in his own incredibly-comfortable bed and covered with wonderful, thousand-plus thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, his head firmly planted on a perfectly-soft pillow. It felt so good compared to the miserable dust-covered ground that he couldn’t help but sigh that would have been inappropriate if overheard by a woman. “Oh, you sweet, beautiful pillow. How much I missed you.” Lee clung to the item in question, hugging it against him as he rocked back and forth. “You’re the best. Don’t ever leave me.”

“You done? I’d tell you to get a room, but you’ve already taken it to bed,” a voice teased from the doorway. Even though it didn’t quite sound like Augustus, he figured it was him anyway and didn’t even bother turning over to check.

“Shouldn’t you be drinking somewhere?” Lee asked as he let go of his pillow and rubbed his eyes.

“Well, it’s a damn bit early, but I like where your head's at. Good suggestions, my man,” the voice replied.

“Good. Then you can do that and let me get a little more sleep, you peeping bastard.” Lee tried to preemptively shrug off what he assumed would be an incoming lecture. He had heard enough from Augustus last night, and he didn’t need to hear anything else first thing in the morning. He already got the message: things weren’t going to be as cut and dry as ‘Go here,’ ‘Kill that’ and ‘Quest Complete.’ Killing the Herald simply wasn’t enough. Even if he did, the town would still be in turmoil, people would still be out of jobs, and Humans would still be in jail for things they didn’t do.

“I would if I could, but for some reason, there are blind women in the world who need my help,” the voice responded, and Lee felt a thump on the side of his bed. “Poor, poor blind women. If only they could see, then life would be easier.”

“What in the heck are you talking about?” Lee grumbled, giving up on getting any extra sleep. I’ve got tonight, so I suppose it’s not a complete loss. Lee thought as he rubbed his eyes and stood up, walking over to the dresser to find some clothes.

“Woah, man, no wonder that girl is blind. I didn’t realize you slept in the buff! You should really give a brother warning before you just hop up and almost put someone’s eye out with that thing!” The speaker laughed so hard that he fell into a coughing fit.

“What in the world are you talking about? How have you not--” Lee stopped mid-sentence. He was about to ask Augustus why he would care when he could clearly see everything that Lee did in the other world when his eyes finally identified the person in his room. It wasn't Augustus. It was Wolfe. He had to change his sentence immediately: “. . . tried sleeping in the buff before? It’s great. Give it a try some time.”

Wolfe laughed. “I would, but with ladies always knocking on my door looking for more than I’m willing to give, a brother has to stay dressed and ready to bolt at any moment. You know that with my handsome face, I can’t let myself be snared or caught in one place. Now, come on and put some damn pants on. We gotta move.”

“Why are we in such a rush again?” Lee asked as he pulled on some slacks and threw on an oxford shirt.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Wolfe complained in an exaggerated fashion. “It’s because women are blind! I’m telling you: it must be all that reading those good girls do. If this chick had even one good eye, do you think I’d be sitting here dealing with you right now?” Every time Wolfe complained about doing something, it meant he felt like he was doing Lee a favor and making a huge sacrifice for Lee.

“Whatever you say, but I’m still confused.” Lee threw on some pants and headed to the kitchen to fix a meal, and Wolfe darted ahead of him and used his foot to seal the door shut.

“Yo, easy there, man. Can’t be walking out looking like that. Go wash your hair and take a shower first. You smell like something that popped out of a barrel on Night of the Living Dead, you white tar-man.” Wolfe pinched his nose.

Well, I’ve been sleeping on the floor for two nights, fighting disgusting creatures in an arena and haven’t seen a shower since . . . So yeah, that checks out. Lee gave himself a sniff as he thought about the past few days. Yeah, that definitely checks out. “Can’t I grab some breakfast first? And why didn’t you tell me that when I first woke up? What was the point of ruining a good pair of pants and a shirt for a few seconds of use?”

“Stop asking questions! Clean up and don’t come out of your bedroom until you're looking presentable," Wolfe insisted.

Lee stopped himself from whining even though he really wanted nothing more than to head into the kitchen and prepare himself a cup of tea and then drink it while reading a nice book in peace and quiet. Between the guards, his prison mates, and then either Amber, Ling or Miller's continuous presence before he was arrested, he hadn't had any time alone in over a week. It wasn't something he thought he would miss, but when he woke up in the real world, it was something that he was craving in the same way a person suddenly wanted popcorn when they stepped into a movie theater.

With the way that Wolfe was going on about women being blind, he was probably angling to take Lee out and set him up with some girl who had a friend that he was trying to hook up with. Lee didn't know where they could go out at this hour in the morning, but Wolfe had a strange way of showing up and demanding that the two of them try and pick up women at odd locations and at random times in the day. Thankfully, this behavior had been all but stopped once video games entered their friendship. Once that happened, Wolfe had spent most of his days playing games with random girls on the Internet instead of dragging Lee around like an awkward third wheel while he tried to hook up with anything that looked good in a dress. It had been the beginning of a peaceful era for Lee, even if it meant that the amount of time he spent socializing had dropped to hermit-like record lows. Without Wolfe, he was able to hole up and read books on weekends that otherwise would have been occupied almost solely by Wolfe’s attempts to get laid.

After cleaning back up and throwing on a new set of clothes, kicking the barely-used ones into the laundry hamper near the bed, Lee walked back to the kitchen. There, he was greeted by the sight of Masha and Olga sitting at his table and chatting with Wolfe. Oh, God. This can’t be good. Wolfe and a church crowd? I’m going to get banned from community events, aren’t I? Lee stared at his friend, who was laughing and telling jokes, in abject horror. He liked Wolfe’s jokes. In fact, he would say Wolfe’s sense of humor was his favorite part about the guy. Whenever Wolfe was really having fun, however, those jokes could be dirtier than Augustus’s and more inappropriate than making wisecracks about bombs in an airport.

“Oh! There’s the man himself!” Wolfe turned to face Lee with a big grin on his face, giving him a not-so-subtle wink. “There’s my brother from another mother. Man, Lee, what took you so long? The three of us were about to go out and get breakfast on our own.”

“Huh? I . . .” Lee trailed off and looked around the room, his brain processing the situation as quickly as it could. Then, with less tact than an old man in a nursing home dealing with a new attendant, Lee blurted out the first question on his mind before his wit could think of a clever response. “Why exactly is everyone here? Did I forget about something we had planned? Were we supposed to do something?”

He had to ask. Less than a second had passed between when he had left this world and when he came back thanks to the fact that the other dimension was on an entirely different timeline. Whether it was a day or a decade that passed in the other world with Miller and Amber, less than a second would pass in Lee’s home world. Still, it felt like an eternity to him, so it was only natural that he couldn’t remember every detail about what had been going on before he left.

"Wait, you don't remember?" Wolfe looked at Lee as if he were a disappointed lover and Lee had forgotten an anniversary. "How could you? We've been talking about this for a month! How could you forget what we planned to do today? I can't believe you! I thought we were friends, but clearly, that love was one-sided."

Lee knew instantly from the fact that Wolfe had yet to actually mention what event he had forgotten and how he was keeping the entire thing ambiguous that there had never been a plan. The only reason Wolfe was there was exactly the reason he had said before: to go pick up chicks.

Lee looked over at the two girls. "Well, we didn't have anything planned, did we? Is there a charity event going on today? I'm sorry if I forgot. I've been a little stressed." Lee already started making excuses for his poor memory in anticipation of being deemed unreliable.

"Oh, actually, that's . . . um . . . not why we're here. There’s no church event today. It's just . . ." Masha looked over at her friend and pursed her lips before looking back at Lee.

Olga put an arm around Masha's shoulder and then looked over at him as well. "We . . . We were in the neighborhood, actually, and decided to drop by and invite you out to breakfast--or maybe brunch or lunch,” Olga said, quickly finishing Masha’s thought. “We weren't sure if you would have already eaten or not. That’s when we ran into Wolfe, when we were going to push the buzzer to get in. He . . .” Olga looked over at Wolfe with a furrowed brow and then looked back at Lee. “He insisted on talking with us, and we mentioned that we were here to visit you, so he let us in. Said he was on his way to cheer up a friend who hadn’t been getting out much.”

"I see." Lee looked at his watch. It read 9:17 a.m. "Well, I haven't eaten yet, and some food sounds great. Just what brought you two out to this side of town? If I'm not mistaken, you don't live nearby. I think I remember you living near the church?”

Wolfe laughed at Lee’s question and slapped his hand against his face. “Honestly, brother, if you ever die before me, I’m exhuming your corpse and cracking that head open. Gotta be the densest material on earth inside your head . . . or maybe a hamster on a wheel. Can’t tell sometimes.”

Huh? Lee had been feeling rather ambushed by the fact that there were three people in his apartment, but he finally realized what was going on. Oh! Lee, you moron, what the hell?! Lee wanted to facepalm too, but that type of obvious gesture would only further embarrass him. He was half-expecting to hear Augustus’s voice chime in with some obvious insult at how stupid he was, but then he remembered that the wayward god only showed up as an animal in this world. The drunken deity never spoke to him through telepathic communication. He’s watching though, right?

“Sorry, it’s early for me, and I have to be honest: I really didn’t expect anyone to come by. I still haven’t had my morning tea. So, maybe before breakfast, we can--” Lee started to put together a plan, but Wolfe cut him off right away.

“Nope! Mimosas. Bottomless. There’s a cafe down the street. We’re going!” Wolfe proclaimed, heading for the door. “Come on, you two ladies can tell me how you met my less-attractive-than-me brother while we eat some croissants, drink some fancy mid-morning lady drink and make the abominable hot sauce, bacon, eggs and fried-chicken and waffle sandwich.”

Olga and Masha stood up, but they didn’t head to the door right away. Instead, they looked over at Lee to see if he was in on the idea.

“Wolfe, who the hell would ever think you’re better looking than me?” Lee responded with a laugh as he walked over to the door to signal that he also consented to the plan. It’s like Augustus said: I have an eternity here if I need, so I have plenty of time to figure out what to do about the town, find a trainer and get back on course. One morning won’t kill me or put me behind schedule. Chuckling to himself, Lee opened the door and held it for the trio of mid-morning interlopers. Come on, Little Eth-- Lee started to think to the golem that wasn’t with him. Oh, that’s right . . . Lee frowned, feeling somewhat empty and naked without his tiny hive-minded rodent counterparts. It’s too bad the system won’t let me make a golem in this world too.

Your skill level in Golem Sculpting currently allows the making of one additional golem.

The system notification appeared, answering his frustration instantly. Lee was so shocked by the news that he stopped mid-step and stared at the text, wide-eyed at the implication. Wait, system, I can use magic in this world too? I mean, I know you translate stuff for me here too . . . But can I use magic and level up here as well?

The rules of this reality do not correspond to the rules of the great competition in perfect symmetry, but many forms of magic and abilities carry over due to the fact they are rooted in your own personal ability and nouveau-divinity status. To prevent cheating, experience gained in this reality will not be applied to your person until the end of the competition.

Looking for clarification, he asked, So, wait . . . I could use most of my skills, but no matter how often I use them, it won’t let me level them?

No, one may not advance existing skills in his original reality and then bring them back into the competition. This does not mean, however, that one cannot improve one’s reasoning and understanding about skills for the sake of advancing them faster within the competition. There is also the potential to acquire new skills in the original reality under special circumstances, but they cannot advance past Initiate.

“Alright, fine, Lee. If you’re going to stand around like a zombie, we can get you some coffee too,” Wolfe said, throwing a hand on Lee’s shoulder and giving him a nudge forward. “You gotta snap out of it this morning, man. I swear, it’s like you’re not even here.”

After what seemed like forever in the other world, constantly battling for survival--even more so now that he had a new career as a gladiator slave--Lee wonder if he really was there entirely. Part of him still felt like it wasn’t. “Ah, sorry.” Lee gave a light-hearted chuckle in return to Wolfe’s antics. “Just realized a problem with your plan.”

“What’s that?” Wolfe asked, looking over at Lee.

“The hot sauce at that damn place is terrible,” Lee answered, doing his best to return the silly go-out-and-have-fun mood Wolfe had established. “Let me grab a bottle.”

“You trying to make me look bad by busting out your own hot sauce? Come on, let’s just get going. You’re going to embarrass me with that type of thinking,” Wolfe complained, giving Lee a slight shove on his back.

Lee and Wolfe passed the time on the walk goofing off, and their loud and boisterous attitudes dominated most of the conversation. The girls quietly whispered stuff back and forth as they watched the shenanigans, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Lee was there in the moment, but he was still thinking about what the system had told him: that he could use magic. Even as they sat down and ordered, Lee couldn’t help but stare at the oranges the restaurant had placed in a bowl in front of him while Masha and Olga regaled Wolfe with tales of their joint charity work. Lee knew that Wolfe would be horrified by the idea of doing unpaid labor, and it was amusing to watch him feign interest in their story while hiding his true feelings.

Hmm . . . Party tricks are my thing these days . . .

A buzzing in his pocket brought him back to reality, and Lee quickly extricated his phone. He cringed when he saw the message from Wolfe that was waiting for him: ‘Hey bad wingman theres two of these girls. Theyre here for you. Do I have to do all the heavy lifting?’

Wolfe texted Lee again in an incredibly stealthy way, so sneakily that Lee barely even noticed his friend’s hand movements under the table. “Not saying that i won’t. i’ll be happy to jump on a grenade for you -or both- let me know ahead of time so i can prepare myself for the sacrifice.”

Lee looked over at him and then, without any of his friend’s subtlety, he punched Wolfe’s arm. What in the heck is wrong with you? You know these are my friends, you bastard! Lee shook his head.

“Owe! What was that for?” Wolfe protested as the table went quiet.

“You know what you did,” Lee said, tapping on his phone.

“I . . . I’m not doing punch-bets with you in the future again,” Wolfe replied, quickly covering up the indiscretion and covering for Lee at the same time, so he wouldn’t rat him out to the ladies.

Lee interjected before Olga could carry on talking about the volunteer work. “You know, actually, I was just thinking . . .”

“You been doing that a lot lately. You should stop. It’s not healthy,” Wolfe said. “Unless you got something on your mind we can help you with? Is it work related? They giving you a hard time at the office again?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Lee said, picking up an orange and tossing it in his hand. Might as well get some practice here, right? “I just was thinking . . . Wouldn’t it be nice if we didn’t have to use the juice?”

“You just want to drink the champagne straight?” Masha asked, voicing the conclusion the other two were probably jumping to as well.

“No, I still want a mimosa, but I just would like a fresher one, you know?” Lee stood up and went to find the bar, returning a few moments later with an unopened bottle of champagne.

Wolfe’s eyes followed the bottle. “What are you up to now? I mean, if you just wanted to drink straight champagne, you could at least have gotten a better brand.”

Well, I might have, but considering I have no idea what this will do to the champagne, that probably isn’t the best idea. “Actually, I’m being cheap since it’s not just the girls here. I would have gotten them a nicer bottle, but I was worried you’d drink it all first.”

“Hey! That’s . . . only half true. I’d only drink half the bottle,” Wolfe protested.

Masha followed up with one of the prettiest smiles Lee had seen in a while. “So, you would be willing to buy me a nice bottle of liquor?”

“Sure. What’s your drink?” Lee asked as he sat down, grabbing and dragging the entire bowl of oranges to his side of the table.

“I’m . . . I know it’s a stereotype, but I like vodka actually,” she answered. “It really hits the spot well if you pair it with some delicious pirozhki. I can actually make you some sometime if you like. You will see. It’s a great combination.”

“Really? That sounds nice. I’ve never actually had pirozhki before.” Lee placed the champagne bottle down next to the orange bowl. “If you’re offering to make some for me, there’s no way I won’t take you up on that.”

Olga gave Masha a mischievous wink. “Great, sounds like a date then. I shall act as the witness, and neither of you two is allowed to back out.”

“Hey! Foul! I call foul!” Wolfe shouted as loudly as he could while still using an indoor voice. “None of that talking in Russian, and . . . Wait, Lee, when the hell did you even learn Russian? How come you never told me you knew it? What’s going on here? Are you actually a robot replacing my friend? Is that what all the quiet stares into nothing are lately? You’re experiencing glitches?”

“Hey, they aren’t glitches,” Lee said, laying a napkin over both the champagne bottle and the oranges. “I told you exactly what I was thinking about. I was thinking about having a delicious mimosa with fresh oranges.”

“And what are you going to do? Hocus pocus the two together under the sheet?” Wolfe asked.

Lee smiled, actually happy for the setup. “Actually, it is kind of a magic trick, isn’t it?” he asked, lifting the cloth up so they could see the unopened bottle and the oranges still separated before placing the sheet back on top. “You see, watch my hands.” He placed one hand on the cloth covering the bottle and the other napkin covering the oranges. “I’m not doing anything funny now, am I? You can all see both my hands, can’t you?”

Masha, Olga and Wolfe all nodded, each focused on Lee’s hands as they tried to figure out what he was up to. Lee used his spirit to try and craft the two together, attempting to mix the oranges into the bottle without opening it. Using his spirit in this world felt weird, but it wasn’t so strange that he didn’t also know exactly what he was doing. Sure enough, just as he had made countless dishes before in the other world, he was able to use his spirit to mix the essence of the oranges into the champagne bottle. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was that the ratio of orange juice to champagne was much higher than the very tiny bit of leftover space in the unopened champagne bottle allowed for, and it left him with quite a predicament.

Well, the bowl for the oranges isn’t exactly going to leak, right? Lee looked at it questioningly, double-checking to make sure how big it actually was. Ah, perfect. With that, he continued mixing the oranges with the champagne, but he split the mimosa into two parts: one went into the bottle, completely filling it, and the other went into the orange bowl along with the two remaining unused fruits.

“Hmm . . .” Lee mused.

“What? You got us sitting here in anticipation for nothing, didn’t you?” Wolfe asked as he reached over for the cloth. “Just give up the charade.”

“In the month or so I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever known Lee to be the type to lie,” Masha said before Wolfe could yank the sheet away.

“That’s because you don’t know him like I do. He always likes to--” Wolfe pulled the sheet away, and he went quiet. He just stared at the unopened champagne bottle, now colored orange, and a bowl with only two fruits filled over halfway with the same drink.

“Leave his talkative friend speechless?” Olga smiled as if his befuddlement was a win for her and as if she had done it herself. “Yes, he seems quite good at that.”

“How did you do that?” Masha asked, reaching a finger out and putting it in the mimosa, only to retract it and give it a taste. “You’re amazing. I mean . . . That’s amazing. How did you do that?”

“Yeah, what she asked. How did you pull that off?” Wolfe asked in amazement. He grabbed the bottle and popped the top before pouring it into his empty water glass.

“Well?” Lee asked, waiting for his loudmouthed buddy to give it a try. Wolfe sipped the glass a moment later and then downed the entire thing.

“What the hell, man? I don’t know what’s more impressive, you speaking Russian or you learning how to make this drink. How is this a regular mimosa? This is amazing. This is delicious. This is divine. I swear, if I could make these, I would be the king of all brunch menus! I would be the BRUNCH LORD EMPEROR!” Wolfe went to pour himself another cup only to have the bottle snatched by Masha.

“You men should learn the importance of treating the lady first,” she scolded as she poured a cup for Olga and then herself. “Don’t be so selfish. It’s brutish.”

Watching his friend get lectured caused Lee to chuckle quite a bit.

“Yes, Wolfe. You should learn to treat a lady properly,” Lee said, repeating her sentiment and rubbing salt into the wound. Wolfe, no longer holding the bottle, instead scooped a cup of it from the orange bowl.

“So, are you just not going to tell us how you did that?” Wolfe asked.

“Nope.” Lee noticed that their waiter had been watching them the entire time he was doing his little trick. The guy was likely just as curious why someone who had ordered unlimited mimosas would also order a separate bottle of champagne, especially at the price they charged per bottle. “But I am going to show you how to make this breakfast absolutely amazing, so watch me here,” he said, raising his hand.

“Yeah, excuse me, can you add an extra plate of bacon to each of our orders?” Lee asked as if the event never happened.

“Uhh . . .” The waiter seemed to have lost his ability to speak. It was obvious that he was curious about what Lee created and that he desperately wanted to try it, but Lee knew that neither Wolfe nor either of the ladies would share a drop.

“You’re right: one won’t do. Let’s have two plates. I forgot how little bacon they give you when you order it in a restaurant.” Lee nodded as if the waiter’s lost speech was a coherent sentence chastising the petite nature of a single order.

Wolfe facepalmed when he realized that Lee wasn’t actually performing another trick but just ordering bacon. “I swear, when you die, it’s going to be because I stabbed you over some nonsense like this.”

Olga, unlike the others, actually spoke up to defend Lee. She said, “If he doesn’t want to say how the act is done, don’t pester him. You should know that magicians are very secretive.”

“I just didn’t realize how secretive. Not even telling your own blood that you have this talent?” Wolfe pouted in an overly-exaggerated fashion as he quickly finished off another one of the magic mimosas and went for a third.

Lee shook his head. “But we’re not blood-related. Come on, stop kidding around and enjoy your drinks.”

“We could be. You don’t know that. What if we have the same dad?”

“I’m fairly confident that’s not the case.” Lee chuckled, making obvious gestures at the clear skin, hair, eye and ear shape differences between him and Wolfe. “Absolutely positive.”

Wolfe shrugged. “Your loss. Anyway, what’s next on the agenda for today after brunch? It’s not often we got a full crew together at the start of a day.”

“Popcorn,” Masha said, her face turning red as she tightly clenched her now empty glass of alcohol.

“Popcorn?” Lee raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.

Olga looked over at her friend, her own face sharing Lee’s confusion. Then a second later, she nodded and placed a hand on Masha’s arm. “What I think Masha wanted to say was that it would probably be a fun idea to go to a movie after this.”

“Nnn.” Masha nodded. “I had wanted to see that new video-game-style movie, Awaken Online.”

“Really? Awaken Online?” Lee tried to remember what the plot to that movie was. He knew everyone had loved it, but he seemed to remember it being out for a while. “You don’t mean Ascend Online, do you? That’s the new one if I’m not mistaken. Isn’t that the one in theaters right now?”

Olga whipped out her phone and pulled up an app with movie listings. “Seems they’re both still in theaters, so we can see them back-to-back if we take our time here and don’t leave for an hour. Sound good to everyone?”

Okay, just today. I’ll let today slide, and then I need to get back to saving the . . . other world, whatever it’s called. “That sounds great, and we can buy Masha some popcorn.” Lee gave Masha a warm smile as he lifted up his drink and toasted to the rest of them. “To a well-planned day of being lazy bums.”

“Well . . .” Wolfe looked at his watch. “I was going to say that I had a raid planned, but screw it. I’ve been wanting to see those movies forever, but last time I went out, I got dragged to that stupid Bathroom Knight movie. I have no idea why in the hell they spent so much of their time and money and CG on the fight sequences but still couldn’t get the damn flap to not flash me during the start of the film. Seriously . . . too much for my eyes.”

Remembering that he had already accidentally flashed Wolfe this morning too, Lee couldn’t help but snicker at his friend’s protest. “I think you meant The Bathrobe Knight. But, well, maybe if you stopped abusing spare-key privileges, you wouldn’t be suffering from so many bad memories.”

“Whatever. Anyway, do you have any other tricks?” Wolfe asked.

“Well, I got one more.” Lee glanced down at the unused fork next to where the waiter had yet to put a plate of food. “But . . . before I can show it to you, I’m going to need something in return.” Lee’s mouth moved, and the words came out before he could stop himself. He was so used to proselytizing that the sentence escaped him the moment he was asked to perform a trick.

“Oh, my!” Wolfe faked a prudish English accent as he covered his mouth. “He’s going straight for the demands, I see.”

“No, no. I seriously need something from you guys first.” Lee quickly thought of a way to cover up his proselytizing slip. “I need you all to give me your forks, and after I’m done with this trick, go steal some more from the waiter.”

“Our . . . our forks?” Olga asked curiously as she handed hers over.

“Yeah, sorry about this. Now, I’m also going to need you guys to name a ridiculous animal,” Lee said as he took the forks from his three friends.

“Well . . . how about a tortoise?” Masha suggested. “They seem silly.”

“Ah, good. Then the last step is that I need you three to keep your eyes closed for forty minutes while I go to the store and buy the props I need.” Lee laughed as he covered the forks with his napkin and placed his hand on top of them. Let’s see how this works. The forks shouldn’t be more than thirty grams, so I should have enough mana since four will only eat 12% of my bar. Now, maybe I can improve my understanding of the method of smithing even if I can’t improve the skill itself. He was about to focus on them the same way he had been at first, but he quickly realized that he was going to run into a problem. If he followed the same method he had previously used to shape things, he would have trouble actually arranging them into finer, more delicate shapes. When he had crafted glass, it had been easy to make things like a cup, a giant dome, a shield or a sword. They were very simple items with very simple shapes, so pushing the spirit through to shape them wasn’t difficult.

This time, however, he wanted to do something more. He stared at Masha, and while he pushed the spirit into the forks, he let the spirit move on its own instead of trying to shape them right away. He focused on Masha’s face while imagining the image of a fat tortoise. The more he thought about them, the more he was able to let his mind fill in details of the image. Slowly but surely, it became increasingly precise, and he was able to feel his spirit moving underneath his hands inside the metal clump of erstwhile forks. His instincts to take hold of the process and put in extra effort or interfere kept trying to take over, but he pushed aside the urges and just let his mind do the rest of the work. Sure enough, even though he hadn’t seen the finished product, he knew that the result was better than if he had mentally tried to control every motion of the shaping process. Unfortunately, the process left him feeling more drained than he had anticipated.

System, that felt like more than 12%. How much of my mana was used? Lee asked, not having the mana bar handy to instantly check.

You used 35.4% of your mana to shape the object below.

The system’s answer puzzled Lee as he had mentally calculated out roughly 12%, not almost 36%. Wait, no, that’s right. This isn’t iron I’m shaping. It’s steel! Of course it would require a different amount! Lee felt like an idiot. Why didn’t I think about that? He wanted to hit himself. If he had tried to show off any more, it could have eaten up all of his spirit and caused him to suffer a mental backlash.

“What’s with the face? Did the trick not work?” Wolfe reached for the napkin only to have his hand swiped away. “Do I need to distract them with tales of that one time you and I got drunk at that bar in Fukuoka? What was it called? Happy C--”

“Nope!” Lee declared, instantly interrupting that story. “Nope. No no no. No one needs to hear that story, and nothing is wrong with the trick. In fact, it’s done.” Lee pulled the napkin away and revealed a small steel statue.

Wolfe was the first one to respond, and his one word seemed to encapsulate the mood.

“Woah,” he said, his mouth hung agape.

“That’s . . . that’s stunning . . .” Olga commented.

Masha turned a new shade of red and silently bit her lip as she stared at the statue.

“Go ahead. It’s for you,” Lee said, picking up the statuette and handing it to Masha. “I think it will suit you nicely.”

“I . . . I can’t take this.” She shook her head, trying to reject the gift, but she didn’t put up much of an effort as Lee simply pushed the statue into the palms of her hands.

“It looks just like her,” Olga marveled. It was a replica of Masha in the outfit she was wearing that day, except she was also riding a giant tortoise that looked like it was wearing armor.

“Holy crap, man, how did you . . . What did you? Dear God, brother, your game has exceeded mine!” Wolfe exclaimed, drawing attention to the table. “That’s it. I give up. I thought I knew you! I THOUGHT I KNEW YOU!” Wolfe stood up dramatically. “But lo! Lo and behold, I knew NOTHING!”

“Is that how it is?!” Lee feigned indignance and didn’t even try to quiet his friend down as Wolfe flexed his acting chops. Normally, Lee would have cracked and offered to tell Wolfe how he did the trick--or whatever Wolfe was after--just to get his friend to sit down and stop making a scene. This time, however, after having to deal with his miniature, cult-like speeches at the bar in Satterfield and Miller’s constant, overly-energetic and enthusiastic behavior, he didn’t really care. Augustus had once told him that you reach a point when you realize that the people laughing at you never cared about you, and the people having fun with you are thankful you’re being silly, so it’s easier to just let loose. As such, Lee just went with it. “Is that how it’s going to be? You’re just going to throw our history away because of one tiny thing?”

“Yeah, that’s how it is.” Wolfe looked surprised for a second but then carried on. “All of these years, and you never thought to tell me you were a Russian sleeper agent with mystical, magical powers?”

“Well, maybe I could have trusted you more if you hadn’t told people about the secret to my origin story!” Lee declared.

“Please stop! You two are embarrassing us!” Olga proclaimed, interrupting Lee before he could make up a ridiculous story about being bitten by a radioactive gargoyle.

Lee and Wolfe looked over to see that she had turned red and that Masha had buried her face in her hands. The two men exchanged a meaningful look with each other, chuckled, and then sat back down.

Wolfe waited a moment and said, “I’m still not cool with the spy-level double-agent secrecy you got going on here. It just ain’t good. We’ve been friends forever. You should have helped me--” Wolfe censored himself. Lee knew he wanted to say that he should have helped him pick up a Russian chick sooner, but with Masha and Olga right there, neither could finish that sentence without making things more awkward than they already were. “You should have helped me by translating the Russian movies I could have pirated. It would have saved me a bunch of money on movie tickets.” Wolfe tried to make a recovery, but from Olga’s growing scowl, Lee reckoned at least one audience member didn’t buy it. As he looked over at Olga, he noticed that there was a kid with his parents behind her, holding up a phone and pointing it at the table. Crap, as if the gorilla incident over a month ago wasn’t enough of a publicity issue.

“As touching as this bromance conflict is, why don’t we just enjoy the drinks and go to the movies, okay?” Olga asked.

“Do you speak any other languages you haven’t told people?” Masha asked, finally picking her head up. “You’re not actually a spy, are you?”

Lee snickered at the question. “If I were, do you think I’d tell you? I wouldn’t say it’s that I speak other languages, I just think that you’d be hard-pressed to find a language I can’t speak and understand.”

The entire table stared at him. “Wait, really?” Masha asked as Wolfe stared at Lee, his left eye giving the occasional twitch.

“Yeah, really,” Lee answered honestly. There was a small voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn’t be so forthcoming, but he didn’t see any reason to lie to the people at the table.

“Hmm . . .” Wolfe stroked his chin contemplatively and remained silent as the conversation turned back to drinks.

The rest of brunch, they talked about the movies they were about to see, the books that had inspired them and their favorite games. Lee was rather surprised to find out the two girls played games at all. They didn’t play MMOs like Wolfe and Lee, but they were very big on what Lee often referred to as ‘fetch games.’ These were the type of game where people spent hours chasing achievements in a repetitive environment that claimed to be open world. As much as Lee would have liked to mock those types, he actually liked them too. They scratched an itch in his brain that sometimes just needed scratching.

Afterward, Lee and the two girls went to the movies, while Wolfe ended up excusing himself. Although Lee wasn’t sure why, he knew that his friend was mad about something. It wasn’t like he minded, but no amount of anger had ever made Wolfe walk away from a date with a nice woman. Still, Lee was able to sit smack dab between two amazing-looking women and watch movies, so it was such a change of pace from the world he had been in. Even if he hadn’t been there for a prolonged period, the adventures he had experienced had been enough to make him feel like this world, his home world that he had spent decades in, was the strange and foreign land. This was the world that felt more like a vacation away from reality than it did somewhere that he had worked and lived for years.

It was actually something that he had thought about a bit when he had come home for a while after killing the last Herald. As best he could figure, it was most likely due to how intense the other world was. Every action, every thought, every move or slight hesitation could shape or change people’s lives, and even lead to their--or even his--death. Every decision he made, even the split-second choices he made in the heat of battle, carried an absolutely-enormous amount of stress with them. Even if he wasn’t conscious of it at the time, he often replayed the scenes back through his mind at night, ruminating over whether or not he had made the proper decision.

The colosseum, the racist guards, the brutal, and the out-of-nowhere beatings that made no sense had done so much to break him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t the same man that he had been before going in. He had lost his recalcitrant senses of propriety and agency that had once been ingrained into him. That loss was what had let him make a scene with Wolfe. He was able to simply shrug off people’s stares and attention and carry on regardless of what they might think of him. It was the same thing that had allowed him to act like an idiot to the crowd at the colosseum, flaunting his defiance in their faces as he took on the role of a braggadocios blowhard. Their treatment, their push to shame and belittle him, had made him shameless. They had tried to force him into behaving the way they wanted, and he had turned into a rebel. Truthfully, those changes left him with mixed emotions. Even if the Firbolgs hadn’t succeeded in sculpting who he was, they had still changed him. The whole experience had come perfectly at the end of one of the most stressful weeks, when he was at his most malleable, and it had changed him.

At one point, even though he was comfortably watching people in a movie, he was tempted to just get up and go start on the tasks he had assigned himself for this trip. He actually had to force himself to sit and relax and not just get up and go back to work for Satterfield’s sake. No, relax. You can take a little time off, whether you take a day or a millennium, it won’t matter in that world. You need to de-stress. Even though he knew he wasn’t really wasting time, since he had as much time as he needed, it was hard to reconcile that in his head.

Lee was actually pretty happy with the fact that the movie theaters served beer since it helped with the stress relief a good bit. That plus a drink at lunch in between films left him feeling pretty chilled. Unfortunately, his steady imbibing throughout the day also meant that Lee was still far too tipsy to drive the girls home when the movies were over. Olga lived downtown like Lee, but apparently Masha lived far enough away that a car would have been convenient. Masha said she really had no problem walking and preferred it over public transportation, but she also told Lee that the walk was going to take a while. When Olga gave him a ‘what are you waiting for?’ glance, he took the hint and was more than happy to oblige. Lee took the opportunity to volunteer his services to walk Masha home. On the way, Lee enjoyed the benefits of his improved Charisma and Intelligence stats in making conversation. Eventually, the witty remarks and clever jokes gave way to more personal topics.

“So, do you ever think about going back, or . . . going there in the first place, I guess? I don’t think you’ve told me where you’re actually from,” Lee asked as they stepped off the sidewalk and into what looked like a large park Lee had never noticed before. It was rather empty for a park just after sunset.

“To Russia? No, I’ve thought about it, but I’m from here in all ways that matter,” Masha answered, edging close enough to Lee that the hairs on his arm brushed against her.

Is it okay to go for a hand hold? We’re not officially dating . . . but . . . Lee looked over, painfully aware of the fact that he was second-guessing himself. This felt like a date, but he was just walking a girl home. Screw it. What’s the worst that could happen? Lee reached over and grabbed her hand in the least subtle, most awkward way possible. Masha didn’t refuse, though, and she even did her best to acquiesce, tightening her grip around his hand in a vote of confidence for a moment.

“I don’t think many ways matter when it comes to where you’re from,” Lee said, picking the conversation up a moment later.

“No, they don’t,” Masha replied. “I grew up only talking to people from Russia since my father had me homeschooled, but I’ve spent more time here than most people. I love it here. I love the movies, the drinks, my close friends like yo--” Masha, who had turned to look at Lee as she was talking, blushed and turned her head away before she finished the word ‘you.’

“Well, I like you too,” Lee said and looked at her with the first completely-genuine smile he’d had for days. “But yeah, I know what you mean. So, homeschooled? That must have been fun. Is that why you started getting more heavily into church stuff? A way to socialize?”

“You could say that. It wasn’t fun having a birthday party that no one showed up to. I complained to my dad that I needed to go to a real school to make friends, but he just told me, ‘Your circumstance is just the easiest thing to blame. Change what you give if you want to change what you receive.’ I don’t think I understood it at all when I was younger, but my uncle said it basically meant I needed to just look harder at what I could do with other kids. The church was just the easiest solution, since, by default, they always met on the days I had off from homeschool.”

Lee nodded. “That makes sense.”

“So why didn’t you tell your friend?” Masha asked, bringing the topic back to Wolfe, the languages and the magic tricks. “If you could do all of those cool things, why didn’t you tell Wolfe you were spending time learning other languages?”

“Hmm?” Lee slowed down as he pondered the question. The honest answer was that he hadn’t spent much time learning any of the languages at all. Instead, he had a cheat system that carried over from Augustus’s demented life-or-death game that acted like the best translation app in existence. “I don’t know.”

“It seems like something you would tell him . . . unless he’s right. Unless you really are a secret agent,” Masha giggled.

“Yeah, it is something I should have told him.” Except . . . How?

“Were you worried it would tip the balance?” Masha asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Relationships are usually built on balance. If one person feels like they are inferior, it might upset the nature of the friendship. Maybe you’re worried that, if he knew you had all of these talents and abilities, it might have upset the balance of the friendship.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Lee responded doubtfully. How could one person having something good for them affect their relationship with someone else? It can only improve it, right?

“I wish I didn’t believe it either. I’ve just seen it so often. If someone learns you’re rich, they go from wanting to be your friend to sometimes wanting something from you and sometimes just not hanging out with you. It makes distance where there was none. It’s like the priest at our church: even though everyone knows he is just a person, no different than you or me, they all treat him differently. I think he mentioned that you were one of the few people that didn’t treat him like a preacher and instead just talked to him like he was a person last time we spoke. That’s something I liked about you.”

“Are you sure you just didn’t like my rugged good looks?” Lee borrowed one of Wolfe’s deflection lines when she mentioned liking him, but he wasn’t sure why. The topic didn’t deserve to be belittled with too many jokes. “No, I think I know what you mean.” He had been going through that with the townsfolk from Satterfield. He actually liked Miller the best because, even if he called Lee the ‘son of a god,’ he still did his best to treat him like a noob. To Miller, Lee was nothing more than a preacher who had been pushed into playing hero. “I’ve gone through that a lot myself.”

“Me too,” Masha sighed with a frown. “Too often.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re short on friends, though. Olga seems great. And what about that guy who volunteers with you on occasion?”

“Him? He’s . . . He’s someone who works with my dad. He’s not my friend, even if I might have mistakenly thought he was once. You can’t be friends with people who see you as an assignment . . .” Masha muttered the last sentence in such a low voice that Lee could barely make out the words despite being right next to her.

An assignment? Lee recoiled at the statement. He understood a bit about what it was like to have status separate him and others, not by his own design but by theirs, but he had no idea about her word choice. “So not to shoot my good luck in the foot . . .” Lee began, changing topics and moving to the question that most guys in his situation wanted to ask but probably shouldn’t. “What made you brave up so much to come after me? There are plenty of other guys that you talk to way more at the office and at the church.”

“Ah. . .” Masha paused. “I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe just your aura? You feel different, like you’re special.” She took her time as she searched for each word individually. “When most guys talk to me, I feel like a prize or an object or a goal but . . .” She slowed her steps to match the halting pace of her words and said,” I must be stupid. This is such a dumb reason, but with you . . . With you, it always feels like I am average. I am just a person. I am not prettier than the next girl, an object to be won, and my status isn’t special, and who I am doesn’t matter. I just feel like a normal person when I’m with you. That’s all I want sometimes. Maybe, in that way, I’m using you. You don’t mind, do you? You don’t mind if I want to go out with you just so I feel average? That’s not mean or insulting, is it?”

“No, of course not. I’m just happy you showed up. Your timing couldn’t have been better.” Lee gave her his best smile, and he couldn’t help but feel like his Charisma stat was at play. The rest of what she said might have only amounted to ‘I went after you because you were the only guy who didn’t go after me,’ but the sentence about the aura, that definitely smelled of a decent Charisma stat.

Wait . . . What does she mean by ‘status’? He wanted to ask but held back. She had just said that she wanted to feel normal, like everyone else, so bringing it up probably wasn’t the best idea. Lee bit his tongue. If she doesn’t want to tell me, then that’s fine.

Suddenly, for some reason, even though they were in the middle of a beautiful park, Lee’s combat instincts made him panic. It could have been the fact that the entire park was empty and devoid of wildlife, yet he could swear he had heard something rustle the leaves.

Then everything went quiet. He knew what came next once the noise stopped, and it made his heart pound. This isn’t the game world. Who would attack me here? He was suddenly caught between three competing instincts. The first one was incredibly powerful. A part of him sensed the danger and felt certain an attack was about to come from somewhere, and it wanted to use Masha as a shield. Lee knew the urge, it was the Bloody Shield skill that he had gotten earlier in the colosseum, and it urged him to create a shield in the absence of one--even if it was made using another person. The second instinct was to push Masha aside and get her out of the way before something bad happened. Finally, there was the persistent thought that this wasn’t a world with violent bloodsport and roaming monsters. He needed to obey the normal rules of society, and that meant not pushing a grown woman down in the middle of the park.

No, it doesn’t matter if I embarrass myself. Better safe than sorry. Lee made the snap decision to move her out of the way, and no sooner than he had grabbed hold of her than his fears become reality. Something that looked like an arrow zipped past the spot he had been standing and disappeared into the growing dark.

“Crap! Someone’s attacking us!” Using the incredible strength given to him by the game world, he easily lifted her up and dashed for the trees, realizing that he could use them for cover. Once he had created a little distance, he gently set her down behind one of the trees and immediately spun about, searching for where the dart had come from.

Ethan, where-- Lee’s habit kicked in before he realized there wasn’t a golem nearby. They were both back in the other world. Crud, crud, crud, crud. How am I supposed to handle this fight blind? Lee panicked a little as he realized that he wasn’t going to have the rodent’s extra sense to help him out. He wasn’t actually worried about himself: he was worried about Masha. If it were just him, he easily would have been able to escape the park and run away from the attacker before anyone could catch him. He might be able to run while carrying her, but it seriously slowed him down, and he was almost certain to be caught if he tried to escape with her in tow.

“Lee, don’t wo--” Masha started to talk, but Lee put a hand over her mouth.

“Hush,” he whispered. “The less noise you make, the better. I don’t know who is after us, but you need to make your presence small, super small, so that you don’t draw the mob’s aggro.” Lee used gaming terms to describe this real-world encounter without even thinking about what he was saying.

“I am trying to tell you,” she started to whisper when he removed his hand, “that you don’t need to--”

Don’t need to worry about you? Lee didn’t have time to deal with the clichés. Searching around on the ground beside him, he quickly found a large, long stick lying on the ground. It was about the same size as a longsword, and even though it was bent and didn’t look particularly sturdy, it would have to do. He ignored the rest of Masha’s predictable ‘leave me behind; save yourself’ spiel and rushed over to grab the stick, making sure to keep his body as low to the ground as possible. As he had expected, another dart whizzed past as soon as he moved.

He turned and ran once the stick was in his hand, charging back in the direction that the dart had come from. He didn’t want to leave Masha alone in case there was someone else there, someone who might attack while Lee was off chasing after the shooter, but he didn’t really have a choice. The only two options he had were to either wait to be shot or to attack the person doing the shooting. The decision was a no-brainer.

Finally spying the figure, someone dressed in a grayish-black ninja-like outfit, Lee made a beeline toward him. He dodged back and forth around the trees in his path, hoping that they might at least stop a projectile from striking him. Once he was about twenty feet away, the man dropped his bow and pulled out a large sword.

“You’ve done well to make it this far, but here is where you die, young man!” a deep voice taunted as Lee approached. The man stepped out of the shadows and lunged toward Lee with a solid forward thrust.

Lee didn’t take the time to wonder what someone was doing in this world with medieval weaponry. He had been expecting to fight someone with a gun, so fighting against sword was a blessing. He swung out with his stick, smacking the blade away and to the side with a soft thump, and then pressed forward and used his momentum to drive his shoulder into the man’s chest. With his stat-enhanced strength, his assailant was sent flying backward. Unfortunately, and much to Lee’s chagrin, the man stopped himself short of crumpling into a heap, instead popping up with his weapon at the ready.

Lee chuckled a little. Nice balancing act, but you’re hurt now, aren’t you?

The man didn’t make an advance, instead holding his position as the two men studied one another. The ninja’s positioning was solid as far as Lee could tell, and he looked like a samurai ready to take on the world. Lee almost wished that he could take the time to study his fighting style so that he could emulate it later on.

“Lee! Lee, don’t!” Masha yelled from behind, reminding him that he had to finish the skirmish and get back to her in case another threat was prowling around.

He didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on the opponent in front of him. Then, without warning, Lee rushed forward, ready to defeat their assailant with one quick attack. Unlike before, however, the man was prepared. He struck aside Lee’s stick, reversed his blade, and struck the hilt directly into Lee’s gut as he stepped to the side. Lee was carried forward by his momentum, and an extra shove from behind pushed him even further on. Lee twisted to the side as he went past, desperately trying to regain control of his body, and stumbled as a result. The man lashed out with a swift kick, planting it into Lee’s rump before he could react.

Lee took the blow as gracefully as he could, but it left him disoriented. Fearing that the man’s sword might cut him down if he was as careless again, he pushed forward and created some distance rather than trying to turn and re-engage. When he didn’t hear any footsteps behind him, he felt confident that he could turn around without fear of taking a quick thrust in his back as he did so.

“A young man and a charging bull: both are easily defeated by the emotions that blind them to reason. Come, meet your death, young man,” the voice taunted again. This time, he closed in on Lee.

“My time will not be decided by you,” Lee said as he let out all of the air in his chest, straightened his back and prepared to take another blow. He edged forward again, but rather than trying to swat away the man’s attack, he completely ignored the incoming strike and went for a clean thrust of his own. It was a risky move, but he was willing to bet on the fact that he could heal himself in this world too.

Lee felt the impact on his chest from the man’s weapon and that of his own as it struck the man’s shoulder. Unexpectedly, the sword didn’t cut into him. It didn’t even really hurt. Is my natural armor value too high? Lee wondered, looking down as he backed up a moment.

“Ah, that was unexpectedly painful, Lee.” The man grabbed onto his shoulder where Lee had struck him. “I think you have broken something.”

“Dad! Lee! You two, stop it! Or I will leave right now!” Masha yelled, stamping her feet as she approached.

“Dad?” Lee blinked and then looked over at the man. The six-foot-three, gray-haired, blue-eyed old man stepped closer. Masha had turned on the flashlight app on her phone, and Lee could now see his features very clearly. He could also see the reason why the sword hadn’t gone straight through his chest: it was a practice sword covered with foam.

“When will you let me have a nice moment with someone without ruining it?!” Masha protested. “How could you embarrass me like this? You’re the worst sometimes!”

“Masha, you know the rules,” a different, seemingly-female voice said. This one was much further away, but it was still clear, and it even sounded familiar. “You’re not allowed to be on your own without a qualified bodyguard, and what was the harm in testing the new boy?”

“But on the first date?!” Masha’s face was beet red. She was either frustrated or embarrassed or both--it was hard for Lee to tell.

“I’m honestly surprised he could move so quickly and fight so well. You shouldn’t be mad. You should be proud that you found a boyfriend with such capabilities. Now, we just need to teach him how to use more modern weapons too.”

“He’s not-- We haven’t gotten that far,” Masha responded with a sigh.

This type of thing must happen a lot if she’s taking it so gracefully. Lee scratched the side of his face as he looked around, unsure of what to do or say. I mean, we did talk about going out, so . . . I thought we had gotten that far, but I guess the word ‘boyfriend’ hasn’t been used yet. I guess she’s still not sure. Both Lee’s mind and eyes were starting to wander, not really focusing on the situation at hand. Despite the man’s age, the bout had been enough to trigger the fight-or-flight mode that Lee had been living in constantly in the other world. With his nerves ready for action and no danger around, Lee was suddenly painfully restless. It was almost too quiet, and Lee wanted to pick up his stick and hit the fifty-something-year-old man again.

“What are you two talking about? And how long were you following?” Masha asked, throwing out questions in a huff. One was aimed at the old man and one at the approaching girl.

“I’ve been following from the start,” the voice answered, and Lee was able to make out that it was Olga’s. “Like I said, you know the rules. You can’t leave home without a bodyguard.”

“Ah. Well, I just wanted to know if what Olga said was true.” Masha’s dad popped his necked, stretching and retracting his arm. “Olga said that he could speak multiple languages, so I said a few things to test his Mandarin is all.”

Ah, that was Mandarin, was it? That explains why Masha didn’t understand what was being said. The conversion was so fluid that he hadn’t even noticed it changing. The same thing had happened with his boss at work when he first returned to the real world. He had carried on an entire conversation with her in Spanish--much to her embarrassment--without even realizing that he was speaking any language other than his own native tongue.

“Ugh. This is the worst end to a first date ever,” Masha groaned, looking like she wanted to cry. “You two knew I liked him! And you were the one who dragged me to his place to ask him out, so why would you ruin it like this?!” Masha wailed.

“Hey, I’m sure he just wanted to make sure you were safe.” Lee rested his arm across Masha’s shoulders, hoping to calm her down. This was the first time that he had ever seen the feisty girl truly blow up, and while it was cute, he figured it was for the best if he stopped it soon. “It’s completely normal for a girl’s dad to worry about her, and it didn’t ruin anything.”

“Mmm . . .” Masha’s face was already red with anger and frustration, and now it turned brighter with embarrassment as she snuggled Lee’s arm. “If you say so,” she mumbled.

“Well, Masha, go help your mother make dinner and set aside some tea for your guests. I have a lot to talk about with this young man you have brought. Olga, how about you make sure Masha makes it home safely.”

“Yes, Dad, but no childhood stories.” Masha didn’t argue, but she hesitated before breaking away from Lee’s half-hug, looking rather reluctant to part. Seeming to think better of something, she darted off after a moment.

“So . . .” The old man studied Lee for a moment and then extended his hand with a small wince. “I’m Alexander, Masha’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Lee responded as he grabbed the man’s hand. Hmm . . . Lee paused, staring at the older man’s hurt shoulder. He felt somewhat bad about being the only one who was perfectly fine after the encounter, and he figured that the man was trustworthy enough to use as a test subject. Let’s see exactly how much of my ability works in this world. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he liked the man’s attitude. Anyone who would go to those lengths just to make sure that his daughter would be safe with a new potential boyfriend was admirable, albeit weird.

“I’m Lee . . . Although, I suppose you already know more about me than I know about you.” He focused his spirit into the man’s arm as he shook his proffered hand, channeling the ability through Alexander’s body and into the injury.

“Ahh . . .” Alexander let out a brief sound of discomfort, his eyes popping open in alarm, but then he looked down at his shoulder with bewilderment. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“It’s a magic trick,” Lee chuckled. “Just a simple magic trick. I thought you’d already have heard that I’m good at these things.” He retracted his spirit after the spell was mostly complete and released the man’s grip.

Alexander rubbed his shoulder and then turned his attention to Lee. “I see. Well, I will keep your secret, but we both know that wasn’t a trick. Now, come. We have much to discuss, a little to drink and not enough time before dinner to do everything.”

Chapter 8

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 20

Health: 300/300

EXP: 9002/17000

Primary Stats:

Power 30 (31)

Toughness 30 (31)

Spirit 30 (31)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 19

Intelligence 146 (153)

Honor 5

Faith 740

Personal Faith 234

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 6

Sneak Journeyman Level 1

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 1

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 2

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 2

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 2

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Lee and the old man walked through the park. Lee hadn’t expected a motormouth who would start shooting off words at a mile a minute, but he had expected him to get to the point--or to even just say something. Anything. Instead, Masha’s father remained completely silent, and the quiet unnerved Lee. Just as he opened his mouth to speak and break it, however, Alexander spoke first. He said, “You’re faster than most men I’ve met.”

“Well, it wasn’t by intention,” Lee said quietly. After having made things awkward, Lee had decided that he was going to mess with Masha’s dad a bit by intentionally misunderstanding a few things to get his revenge. “I mean, she came over to my place first. I didn’t exactly expect to wake up and find a woman in my apartment.” Lee looked over to see that his attempt at trolling not only hadn’t worked, but he seemed to be chuckling instead of acting even the slightest bit upset.

“You know what I meant. You’re fast, and that hit you gave me wasn’t normal. It hurt far worse than it should have hurt. I thought a bone had been broken.”

“Well, is it fine now?” Lee asked as casually as he could.

“Yes, which raises new questions altogether. I won’t tell your secrets, but I cannot deny my curiosity over their origins. Masha might not know this about you, but I do. I know that, between your work, your school before it, and your friend circle, you have no Chinese or Russian friends, and you have never taken a Chinese or Russian class. I know this, and combined with your physical abilities, and with what you have done to my shoulder . . . my intuition tells me to be very wary of you. Those with your abilities are never without agendas and influence. Even if you don’t have either now, you will in time.”

“I don’t think you need to be that concerned. My only agenda is to watch some movies, take your daughter out to dinner now and again and keep volunteering at the church. As for influence, I’d say it’s limited to being able to get my family to make me a meal every now and then or getting my buddy to go out for drinks with me.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe? One does not gain abilities quietly without having a goal since, in order to acquire them, one must pay a price. In all my decades of life, I have yet to see anyone gain so much without paying an equally-steep price.”

Lee nodded along to the words. He couldn’t help but think of the number of lives he had ended to get where he was now. Dozens of people--granted, very horrible people--had died to give him the refined version of the skills he had now. He had almost died multiple times to grow those skills. The healing ability, for instance, had been learned during a gamble he made to save Ling’s life in the mines near Satterfield. “I suppose I did pay a very high price,” he said at last.

“You paid a price for something, but tell me you have no intent or desire to use it?” Alexander asked incredulously.

“Maybe you could say I’ve already used it. But what does that matter? Is a quiet life so bad?” Lee asked.

“No, it isn’t. If you had told me you had grand ambitions and great plans, I think I would have been much less happy with you pursuing my daughter. A quiet life is exactly the type of future she needs. A quiet, peaceful, happy life. No one tells you this when you start off, but ability, talent, resources . . . They are all burdens that weigh us down. Their cost is so great that most people will spend the rest of their lives paying for them even after they obtain them. The only time you will know peace is when all these things are gone, and then . . . Well, many men are haunted by their absence once they have lost them, and they think that it is an even worse price to lose them.”

Somehow, Lee knew exactly what this man was trying to say. He didn’t know if there was actually any truth in it, but the words rang true. “I see. Still looking out for your daughter, are you? That’s good to hear, I suppose.”

“I always am.” Alexander’s voice grew sterner as he stopped and looked right at Lee and said, “Which is why I shouldn't have to tell you that I will have you tortured and then killed if you hurt her in any way.”

Lee had anticipated the threat. It was basically expected from every good and caring girlfriend’s father. But after it was said, there wasn’t really any place to pick the conversation back up. He could have said ‘Don’t worry!’ and then laughed about it with him, but for some reason, his mind wandered back toward the other world. What would happen to Masha, Wolfe, or his family if he died there? Would his sudden disappearance devastate them? Was there a way to avoid it? He was so wrapped up in these types of depressing thoughts that he didn’t notice the time pass until they were at Masha’s house.

“So, this whole place, this park . . .” Lee trailed off as the realization dawned on him.

“Yes, it’s just my yard,” Alexander answered with a laugh. “And this is the most beautiful house in the entire city. The real estate is worth more than the building. “It always drove my accountant mad that I would waste this much space, but I think that it is sometimes important for men like us to have a place to go to when we want to get away from things--and, then, the more distance between us and the outside world, the better.”

“Spoken like a true introvert. By the way, I hate to ask this so far after the fact, but where did you train? You seemed very steady with that blade,” Lee commented.

“Oh, that? I trained in a few things, but mostly I like to pass the time sword fighting with friends. Kendo, European longsword--it beats golf.

“There you two are,” Masha called from the kitchen door. “I’ve set the table, and mother said the meal will be ready soon. We’ll be having beef stroganoff, and I’ve already opened us up a bottle of wine to go with it.”

“Sounds great,” Lee called back, and the two made their way inside.

The family was rather pleasant, and her mother seemed particularly happy to hear about what Lee did for a living, which was nice. The way she nitpicked him with questions about his life, he half-expected her to have been a professional inquisitor or interrogation specialist, but it turned out she only managed a shop in town where she sold arrangements made from the flowers that she grew in her backyard.

Afterwards, he had to endure the occasional ‘Why can’t you find a good Russian boy?’ comments Masha’s mom made to her, but as awkward as the comments were, Lee almost burst out laughing when he saw Alexander’s eyebrows start twitching when he overheard his wife whispering these things to Masha in the kitchen, unaware of the fact that Lee could both hear her and speak Russian.

“She means well,” Alexander said as he stood up, “but maybe we should retire to the study in order to save some of my dignity as a host in case she decides to say something worse. I’d like to play a game of chess with you while we wait for Masha to clean up if you don’t mind.”

“We could help them out if you like. Many hands make light work, and it’d be done much quicker if we joined them,” Lee offered.

Alexander looked between the kitchen and his study and said, “Well, there are only two sinks in the kitchen, and I had kids so that I wouldn't have to do chores. I don’t know why my wife even insists on helping out. What’s the point of raising a kid if you can’t get some manual labor out of her every now and then?”

“Alright then, chess you said?” Lee might have agreed too quickly, but the alternative was that he argue his way into doing dishes, a thing he hated to do even in his own apartment

“Yes, of course.” Alexander patted Lee on the back as the two headed into his study, where they started up a game. Lee didn’t say anything when the man took the white side, the advantageous side, and he slowly began to roll out all of his pieces. One by one, he was able to slowly build a wall of pawns to block and contain the white pieces, making it so that, if any of his pawns were taken, the piece who took it would quickly be felled by a pawn, bishop or knight supporting it. It wasn’t a fancy strategy--Lee wasn’t that great at chess--but this particular plan made sense to him. He didn’t want to be aggressive and making moves across the board until he had a better feel for the game.

It was somewhere near the end of this wall creation that Alexander let out a little bit of what felt like a sinister movie villain laugh and then looked up at Lee. “You are scared to lose them, aren’t you?” Alexander picked up one of his pawns and held it in the air for a moment. “You think that this threat means much because if I take one of them, you will avenge him right away. This is the threat you use to protect your minions.” Alexander hovered the pawn in the air for a moment and then placed it in a spot where it could easily be taken by one of Lee’s own.

Lee was even tempted to do it, but if he did, his wall would be broken. The second his pawn took that one, one of his other pawns would no longer be reinforced. Not to mention, the pawn that acted offensively would be taken quickly just the same. It left Lee in a bit of a predicament. In the end, Lee moved to reinforce his own threatened minion with a knight instead of grabbing the pawn.

This drew another soft cackle from Alexander. “I want to point out that this is where you lost the game.” Alexander picked up a pawn and made a move, taking Lee’s own. “Your hesitation to make sacrifices, to give up even an inch of ground, has ensured your defeat.”

Lee didn’t understand at first what he meant, but it was clear a moment later. Alexander took the pawn, and then a series of rapid exchanges occurred until Lee’s wall was open, his king was exposed, and Alexander’s bishop had placed Lee in check. Lee stared at the board with absolutely no idea how to salvage the game. If he moved his king out of check, Alexander’s knight could easily take another one of Lee’s few remaining pawns and place him back in check. On the other hand, if he moved his rook to block it, he’d find himself quickly back in check and minus a rook. Alexander was right: the game was over. He had lost.

“Do you understand your loss?” Alexander asked, his voice not at all conceited.

Lee nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“That’s good. This game has told me the last bits of information about you that I needed to know. Take it as a compliment that you were defeated for the reason you were. It only means that you’re not suited to lead, not that you’re a bad person.” Alexander smiled warmly as he reached under the table to produce a bottle of vodka with two glasses.

“I thought we were going to have tea?” Lee asked.

Alexander poured both cups as if Lee’s answer was a foregone conclusion. “This is my tea, and you will drink with me.”

“So, I’m not suited to lead,” Lee repeated as he took the old-fashioned tumbler. “I suppose you’re right.” He tapped his glass against Alexander’s before taking a good swig of the vodka. Maybe it was due to his skill Drunken Appreciation, but it didn’t burn at all going down. It just tasted sweet and felt warm in his belly.

“Not yet at least. Most men aren’t when they are your age, though, so don’t take it as an insult. It’s a compliment in its own right. Where I come from, they say that no good man makes a good leader. It’s not hard to see why. In order to be a good leader, you must be hungry and have that ambition for the influence you lack. A good leader sees the organization he runs, the people he is in charge of, not as people, but as pieces of his power--and he will grow his power at all costs.”

“Even if that cost comes at the price of his people? Those pieces of his power?” Lee asked as Alexander took another swig of his drink and then proceeded to line up another chess game.

“Let me show you the answer,” he said, turning the board so that he was black this time. “I want you to go for my king as fast as possible and try to throw away as many pieces as you can in the assault.”

Lee frowned at the requirement, staring at the board. He knew that he would be more aggressive once he got used to the game, but that didn’t mean that he felt comfortable throwing away his pawns just for a quick win. Either way, he listened to Alexander and did as he was told. He started out with a quick offensive using his knight and the pawn in front of his king.

“The Scottish gambit,” Alexander observed with a nod of his head, taking Lee’s knight. “It’s a good strategy.” It was a hard and early loss of a major piece, but several moves down the road, Lee had actually managed to secure a win.

“There you go.” Alexander grinned as he toppled his king. So, you have potential after all.”

“Yeah, but that playstyle felt uncomfortable,” Lee said. “But I was able to pull it off.”

“It felt uncomfortable because it is hard to throw away pieces for you, isn’t it? But it got you the win, didn’t it?”

Lee couldn’t help but agree. The aggressive style had left him in control of the entire match. “Yes, it did.”

“And if you look to the side, you’ll see that you lost much less overall, even though you lost more pieces at the start.”

“Ah . . .” Lee conceded the point again. Alexander was right: his ability to sacrifice pieces as if they didn’t matter at all had actually helped him preserve more of them than if he had cared about losing them.

“So, you understand now?”

“I . . .” Lee looked at the board. Alexander’s point was clear. “I understand.” If he was worried about his people, he couldn’t chase victory. If he didn’t chase victory, even at the sacrifice of his people, then he would be defeated, and he would lose much more than just the few pieces at the side. “But I’m also confused.”

“How is that?” Alexander asked. “Should we play another game?”

“No, I’m just confused why you’re worried about whether or not I can lead.”

“Call it an old man’s hobby,” he chuckled. “You’re talented, you’re bright, and you have great taste in women. Maybe I just want to nurture you to be more than a crappy office worker. That way you can provide for whatever woman you end up with in ten years--though I hope that it is Masha and that she is happy.”

“Well, I’d drink to that, but I seem to be out,” Lee said, looking at his glass. If Masha’s father wanted to help him learn a few things, things that were helpful for leading, he was more than okay with it. Even as he was staring at the chessboard, he was already starting to see a plan come together. He stared at the knight he had lost during the opening of his attacks and thought, Alexander is right. Miller is right. I’m being too cautious. Even if I reach the pinnacle of combat, of abilities, death is all that awaits me against a larger army. I need to learn to use more of my people, to throw them into combat and keep the good ones for the appropriate time.

The lesson started to seep into Lee’s head. From the first decision to cut back on forces to his fight in the alleyway, he had been trying to do so much himself. In the end, it only meant that he was going to lose more. If he couldn’t stay alive, Satterfield was doomed. If he didn’t secure the town of Kirshtein, their grasp would spread outward and swallow Satterfield whole. He needed to be ambitious because the slow and inevitable creep of defeat would destroy everything if his own ideology didn’t win--and even if he did win the slow battle, the casualties would be too great.

So I need to do a Blitzkrieg, don’t I? Just like the Firbolg Herald did. Lee nodded to himself, the beginning of a plan forming in his head. There was just one piece missing. Hoping to gain some additional insight, Lee asked, “If you’re a leader, then what do you do to keep them all in order? Like the pawns lined up here? This is just a game, but in real life, the pieces will move without your consent. How do you stop that?”

“Charisma? A common cause? Fear? Machiavelli once wrote, ‘When a Prince is leading his army and has many men under his command, he must never turn his back on cruelty, for without it, no army can be maintained.’ Well, I’m paraphrasing perhaps, but the examples are riddled throughout history. The one Machiavelli first turns to is Cesare Borgia, whose cruelty unified the Italian people and returned them to peace.”

“So, a man must be both callous and cruel to be a great leader?” Lee was curious if another chess game would spawn to reinforce the lesson, but Alexander merely refilled their cups and sipped at the vodka.

“No, he doesn’t need to be cruel. Cruelty is necessary, but it doesn’t always have to come from the leader. It doesn’t even have to inflict its wounds upon the people it inspires. Its presence must just merely be felt,” Alexander said. “Although, you must keep in mind that these are just my musings . . . my thoughts. I’m sure other leaders think differently, and no one person’s way is entirely wrong. Some just result in different endings. If you had absolute control of the board, you might have protected all of your pawns without having to make a sacrifice. If you are loved enough, perhaps the idea of cruelty is entirely unnecessary. Don’t take what I say for granted: I’m just giving you the lessons a life of leading has given me in hopes you can use it to better your own.”

“And what do you lead?” Lee asked, taking a swig of the vodka, savoring the smooth flavor.

“Lead? Nothing more than a family. I’m just a father.” Alexander’s line was said smoothly as if it were rehearsed.

“A very well-off father,” Lee noted, “with very good taste in vodka.”

“If you like it, perhaps you should come by to sip some more of it some time. I’m sure Masha would love the visit, and I could always use a sparring partner,” Alexander offered.

“Dad,” Masha called, interrupting their little meeting as she came in. “Don’t go hogging all of Lee’s free time. And mom says she needs you in the kitchen.”

Lee knew what that meant: ‘Get out, old man! You’re bogarting my friend!’ It made him chuckle. Lee stood up politely and moved to leave with Masha. “We’ll definitely have to spar some time, but I could use a martial arts instructor or two if you know any,” he said by way of parting as he left.

Lee and Masha ended up spending the rest of the night on the porch in rocking chairs, enjoying the moonlight and a very thorough conversation about whether it would be easier to face off against a giant bear with a laser or a pack of armored wolves.

Lee wanted to talk to Masha all night. Listening to her discuss what it was like growing up with such a unique lifestyle and hearing her talk about everything she loved was the perfect way for him to spend his evening. The best part was that he didn’t have to deal with any religious Q&A, bother anyone about converting, debate which beer best honored Augustus while drinking at three in the morning or decide whether Augustus would prefer someone to craft something or drink something in his honor. He didn’t even have to listen to Miller’s long and graphic descriptions on how best to kill someone with a spear--Miller often assured Lee that, while impaling took longer, the effect was worth the effort. In all, the relatively normal conversation about games, movies, food, and silly, childish jokes was a pleasant change.

He likely would have sat with her until the sun came up, but a black car pulled up in front at some point, putting an end to their conversation. A man stepped out, walked around the car, opened the door and only said four poignant words: “Your ride, sir.”

It was the least subtle curfew call Lee had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but laugh even as he had to leave a conversation he didn’t feel was finished. Lee was tempted to go in for a goodnight kiss before leaving since he and Masha had been so close and so comfortable for the entire night, but an abrupt cough from the chauffeur stopped him before he could make a move. He wanted to say something, but he also knew the man was acting on behalf of the father who was politely not bothering them.

The driver took Lee straight to his apartment without being told as if he had driven the route before. It was rather unsettling, but Lee tried not to think about it. He had already jumped in head first, and it was too late to complain about the water possibly being too hot.

Lee almost jumped out of his skin when he opened the door to his apartment until his brain caught up with his body. There, waiting for him to return home, was a bear as large as he was, propped up on his couch and watching television.

“You’d think that, with nearly a thousand channels, there would at least be one show to watch,” the bear growled.

“What in the heck? You’re getting fur everywhere,” Lee complained. Still, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and joined the god on the couch.

“It’s a small price to pay to maintain my figure. Gotta stay extra fluffy ‘cause girls love the teddy. You know, you really shouldn’t be drinking when you’ve got work in an hour.”

Ah, that’s right. Work. Between his first day back and the time in the other world, he had spaced out on his mental calendar. “I can’t believe I almost forgot,” Lee sighed, standing up.

Augustus opened his paw and looked at Lee expectantly. “Hey, pass me that since you’re not going to drink it.”

Lee actually felt a little glee as he shot down Augustus’s request. “Work isn’t for an hour. Who says I’m not drinking this? It’s not like I drive to the office.”

“Well, could you at least go get me a beer and pop the top? These stupid ursine hands--claws, paws, whatever--don’t handle tiny beer openers very well at all. I tried shrinking them down a bit, but it’s still on par with trying to adjust the tiny screws in a pair of glasses,” Augustus grumbled.

“Well, maybe you should have just changed into a monkey,” Lee suggested. “Then you’d be able to work the fridge and steal all my beers without any effort.”

“I did a primate during my last visit here with you. Wanted to change things up.” Augustus just extended his paw again, and it only took a moment for Lee to crack open another cold beer and pass it to the bear. “So why are you going to work? You know you could just cheat at cards, cure some rich person or do any number of things to make a ton of money and not have to show up again, right?”

Lee nodded. “Yeah, but wouldn’t that ruin the simplicity of this life? I mean, if-- Wait, cheat at cards?” Lee stopped halfway to his room. He had planned on changing into work clothes but suddenly came to a halt when something occurred to him. “Do you mean? Could I . . .” Lee set down his beer and went into his home office, where he began digging around for something.

Augustus swiveled his bear head around to follow Lee as best he could without getting up from the couch. “What are you up to now?”

“Well, it’s not smithing, but I’m wondering if it falls into the category of other crafting things.” Lee opened up a pen and dipped his finger on the ink, then placed the other hand on the paper. “If it does, then I think I may have found my way out of that stupid prison when I get back.”

Lee started to work his magic. He used the same technique as when he made the statue for Masha the day before and ‘sculpted’ the ink onto the paper. The whole process only took a few seconds since so little ink was used and no real transformation was occurring, and he couldn’t help but feel a little elation as he opened his eyes to check on his work.

“This is it!” Lee exclaimed. “This is exactly what I needed!” He had transformed the blank page into a short, two-sentence letter using the same fancy font as the menu from the restaurant. The letters were so immaculate and perfect that it looked as if Lee had printed the page, not written it using his crafting skill. “I gotta say, Augustus, you’re a genius sometimes.”

The bear had silently crossed the room in the few seconds Lee had closed his eyes, and he was now hovering behind Lee, staring intently at the page. “I’ll take credit where I can, but I think this case is just a little insane. How is printing off a menu item onto a blank page going to get you out of prison? I also don’t think I’ve ever done this before. Pretty smart move there, kid.” Augustus slammed Lee’s back with one of the massive paws, knocking him forward and causing the opened pen to spill a little ink on his shirt. “Also, you might want to clean that up.”

“Don’t even act like you weren’t trying to point me in this direction,” Lee chuckled. He knew better by now. As much as he disliked the annoying self-proclaimed deity, Augustus didn’t waste words of advice on him often. Lee had dutifully gone to work every single day during the entire month he had been home after his initial visit to the game, and Augustus hadn’t bothered to mention cheating at cards or getting money any other way in that entire time.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” the bear answered, feigning ignorance. “I was just going to say that you could use the new sculpting talent to make a golem for this world. I know you didn’t get a chance to read the ability update, but you should be able to make at least one more.”

Lee shook his head. “Uh huh. Sure. If I made a creature here, could you bring it back to the other world? Would that go against my usual bacon transfer quota?”

“Nah, the golems are connected to you. It’ll be fine,” Augustus answered. “You might want to consider something more than just mice. Maybe a tiny T. rex?”

Lee put down the page and went to change into work clothes. “I think I’ll stick with the rats,” he called as he left the room. “But I do need to get to work. Thanks for the tip.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you do it or not, but why haven’t you just told Wolfe the truth?” Augustus asked. Even though he was roughly the same height as Lee in his bear shape, it was incredibly intimidating to be face to face with such a fierce-looking, predatory creature. “Why are you ruining one of your only true friendships by making secrets for no reason?”

“So, there isn’t a penalty if I just tell him that I’m actually on my way to becoming a god? That the system in a game world I’ve been transported to is stuck in my head? And that I can now understand all languages?”

“No harm whatsoever. There just isn’t an upside either. You can’t go about earning faith in this world for the competition, so it’s all on you how you want to play the game here. You do get that, don’t ya? That world . . . that is your real world now. This reality is just the relaxing game you play during your breaks.” Augustus placed a paw on Lee’s shoulder, and it was so heavy that Lee might have actually been pressured downward by the weight if he hadn’t been enhanced by his leveling. “You’re thinking about things backward. This . . .” Augustus motioned with his other paw at the apartment around Lee. “This is the dream world. This is the inconsequential realm of freedom. Here is where you’re king. Here is where you can be an unchallenged devil or the holiest saint. This is your relaxation. This is your downtime. This is the fleeting world you go to so you can avoid an existential crisis as stress from your real job--that of a Herald--starts to weigh you down and break you. If you don’t learn that now, you’re going to lose more than just Wolfe as your friend, and you’re not going to get what you need from this trip.”

Lee balked at Augustus’s claim. “I don’t buy that for a minute,” he insisted. “This world is still my world. It’s still the one I was born and grew up in. This isn’t some game, and these people’s lives matter just as much as mine.”

Augustus’s speech went from that of a coarse bear voice to a much more mellifluous snake voice as his shapeshifted. “There is no reason to lie to me, kid. I’m on your side. I’m not the snake in the grass trying to get you killed. I’m just telling you what you already know. This is your virtual heaven, so relax, enjoy it and don’t let this little gaming vacation take so long that you forget how to get your job done.” With that said, Augustus’s snake head lunged forward and grabbed Lee’s beer bottle in its mouth before slithering back over to the couch with the bottle stuck firmly between its fangs. The serpent coiled up on the seat and then adjusted the bottle so that it could down it in one go. “Also, I need another beer.”

Lee blinked. “Yeah, no. I think you can get your own this time. I’ve got things to do.”

“Hey! Don’t be like that!” Augustus whined.

But Lee just ignored him.

-----

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. Lee ended up spending his lunch break with Masha, Olga and their crowd and then went looking for a martial arts instructor who specialized in weapons after work. He was hoping to find someone who would be able to school him in some ancient and unknown technique that was vastly superior to all other styles but had somehow been lost and ignored for centuries like in the movies and books he had seen, but that fantasy evaded him. Instead, he found an instructor at a fencing school who specialized in saber duels and who, for a little extra, was willing to train him privately after the normal class.

The rest of the week passed the same way. Augustus occupied Lee’s couch in various animal forms, drinking beer and watching television. Lee spent Friday with Masha, some time playing chess with her father, and the evening talking on the porch again. It was nice, but when Saturday rolled around, Lee ended up having Wolfe over to his apartment in the morning.

“So, I ditch you for two movies, and you dip out for a whole week’s worth of MMOs?” Wolfe demanded as he pushed through the door, holding a twelve pack.

“Been pretty busy, starting up martial arts and sword fighting. You wanna join?” Lee asked.

“Wait . . . What? Why? Are we going LARPing or something? Or . . . Wait. This is for VR stuff coming out, isn’t it? Lee, you’re brilliant sometimes!” Wolfe seemed to jump from depressed to excited in less than ten seconds. “How the heck did I not think of that? It’ll be too late once they’re actually out. The price of sword fighting instructions will double or triple as people rush to pick up skills and get good at the new wave of virtual-reality-oriented fantasy games, but we’ll be prepared.”

“Well . . . you don’t need it. It’s totally useless. In fact, you probably won’t be able to pick up a single girl. Might even hurt your chances,” Lee said. “It’s like magic, but you don’t even get the benefit of a party trick to show for your efforts.”

“Oh,” Wolfe answered, the wind having been knocked out of his sails. “Then why are you learning it?”

Lee shrugged. “I don’t know. Same reason I play video games? I want to imagine that I’m better at killing stuff than I am? I wouldn’t have even told you about it since I thought, ‘Hey, Wolfe is only interested in games and girls,’ but you got kinda bent out of shape about the languages thing so . . . I figured I’d at least let you know what I’m up to.”

Wolfe sighed, popping a beer. “Ah. I mean, is there really nothing to gain? No purpose to it at all? If not, why are you doing it, man? I don’t get you.”

“Fun isn’t its own purpose?” Lee countered.

“It is. Sometimes things don’t need to be more than just that, but . . . can’t you pick something to have fun with that isn’t a sausage fest? Maybe yoga instead of martial arts? Maybe you could do that dancing stuff girls like? I mean, I think hanging around you is enough in terms of my guy-time expenditures. Don’t want to really double down on it.”

Lee stole one of Wolfe’s beers and cracked it open. “Hey, you don’t have to join. I just figured I’d give you a heads up. I’m checking out a few places today, but if you don’t want to join, you don’t have to. I one-hundred percent understand. I’ve got a girl, though, so I’m not just doing this to pick one up. You can join or not--it's your choice--but I’m heading out in an hour.”

Wolfe looked down at the pack of beer and said, “Make it two so we can kill a few of these, and I’m in. The place is within walking distance, right?”

Lee laughed. “Yeah, it’s within walking distance. Also, I’m doing dinner out with Masha tonight. You should bring a girl and join us.”

“You buy the first round, and you can count me in for that too,” Wolfe said. “I’ll pick up the second, and hopefully, you can do one of those magic tricks to get us a third for free.”

They visited six different places before finding a little off-the-beaten-path dojo that he liked. Even though the place called itself a dojo, it was more of a mixed martial arts training facility, and Wolfe seemed more enthusiastic about the grappling and jiu-jitsu side of the training once he realized his sparring partner was a girl and not a giant sweaty dude--something about the possibility of which he had complained to no end on the way over.

-----

Nearly three weeks went by without anything of note happening aside from the fact that each chess game with Masha’s father became more and more difficult. It was as if the old man were either steadily dusting off cobwebs and growing better, or he had been going very easy on Lee during the first few matches and was steadily removing the handicap. Lee was also somewhat sure that Masha’s father was getting ready to murder him the second Masha missed a curfew. It was weird dating a woman over twenty and having to make sure she was home at a certain time, but the dates were fun, and as much as Lee felt odd about having to bring her home before curfew, he actually did enjoy the chess games.

Lee started to want to stay in the comfortable life longer. He was mentally preparing to justify staying for years in order to master the fighting styles--in which he had only just reached the very bottom level of amateur--since they proved to be incredibly effective at letting others beat him despite his godlike stats and real combat experience when he awoke to discover that, instead of being in his comfy bed next to a phone filled with text messages from Masha, he was once more in the prison cell. The stench, the hard floor, the lack of any proper pillow--it was just as awful as he remembered.

What the hell, Augustus?! Lee wanted to scream. He was so frustrated and upset. Why the hell am I back here?!

“Yeah, about that. I’m gonna need you to come in on Saturday,” Augustus’s voice came through, very monotone and followed by a sip at the end. “It’s just, you know, we lost a few people, and I really need you to come play catch-up for us.”

Cut the bad boss impression. It’s too real at the moment. You said I could stay as long as I needed! That I could enjoy the other world as much as I wanted! So, what the hell am I doing back here? Lee screamed out his complaints in his mind, mentally yelling at Augustus as loud as his thoughts would allow.

“Sorry. I meant to leave you over there for a lot longer. I was honestly gonna let you stay as long as you wanted, but when you started talking to your mom about fencing during your weekly calls, and a weird video surfaced on BluTube about you using your powers in public--some funny little clip involving forks being turned into a turtle or something--well . . . I kinda had to act quick. Sorry about that, but if the other deity in your lineage found out what I was doing, pushing you back and forth like a ferry between the dimensions, it’d only be a matter of time before she raised hell, and the rest of them penalized me. You thought the penalty I got you at the start was bad? Believe me, they can do worse.”

What? What other deity? And what penalty? The two months?!

Lee got the gist of the situation right away. He wasn’t supposed to be in the other world, and Augustus was close to getting caught, so he had brought Lee back to save his own ass, but the two points made no sense. He understood how a BluTube video with magic could get him in trouble, but he had no idea how talking to his mother might spread things.

“Hey, stop being so mad. I left you there as long as I could. Do you think the other Heralds are being ported back to their homes? No. Just you. So, be happy, alright? And go grab yourself a beer. I used some of the Faith points you’ve earned me and filled your inventory with a ton of beer and bacon to make up for the fact that I had to send you back early before you could make more progress with that Masha girl--not that I think her dad will ever let her sleep over.”

Lee sighed. He wanted to be more upset, but he realized that, all things considered, Augustus wasn’t the bad guy here. He was trying to hook Lee up with trips home, which Lee apparently wasn’t even supposed to get at all. Augustus’s explanation was believable since Lee imagined the lying little shapeshifter constantly did stuff like this.

“Oh, yeah, and one other thing,” Augustus continued. “Since I knew you’d be bummed out about missing the date tonight, which will still happen when you get back to the other world, I thought I’d give you two presents. One should help you further your martial arts practices, and the other one should help remind you of the girl you’re missing. They’re both in your inventory, so go nuts.”

Lee was incredibly skeptical that Augustus would be this thoughtful, but when he saw the two ‘presents,’ he immediately understood. That bastard. He’s still messing with me, Lee thought, laughing a little at the joke though. The first item, the one Lee assumed was meant to help him with his ‘martial arts practice,’ was nothing more than a bottle of gin with the label ‘Drink in case of OWEEEEE’ written under the word ‘gin.’ The second item, the one to remind him of his girl, was a lingerie catalog.

One of these days, Augustus, Lee thought, hoping the drunk deity was listening. One of these days, I’m going to smack you for all of this nonsense.

“Hey! I did you a solid. Just open the lingerie catalog. You’ll understand,” Augustus urged encouragingly.

Lee looked around, making sure everyone else was still asleep, before rolling over to hide what he was doing and opened the catalog. There were plenty of beautiful women in skimpy underwear, but smack dab in the middle was a picture of Lee and Masha awkwardly holding hands. It was from the first night he walked her home. She was incredibly beautiful, and remembering that night made him chuckle.

“What you laughing at so early in the morning? Whole thing still seems funny to you?” Dave’s voice came from over at the other wall, startling Lee into putting away the picture.

Augustus, you know that’s a total invasion of privacy, taking pictures without our--and especially her--consent, Lee thought, but . . . Thanks.

“What? Is it top secret? You’re not a sleep-laugher, are you? That’s going to make this prison even worse than it already is, Mr. Chuckles.” Dave took Lee’s silence as an invitation to tease him. “Some of us like to sleep without listening to the new guy cackling to himself like a mad man in the morning.”

“I take it you didn't get any rest, did you, old man?” Lee just chuckled even more and even louder.

“Nah, I slept like a baby. Augustus is the best. That’s for sure. I haven’t rested with a full belly in forever.”

“You can second that,” another waking old man said, standing up and patting his belly.

“So how long do we have until they pull us into another set of fights?” Lee asked.

“No idea, but it’s usually half an hour after the sun cracks, so we got time. You mind asking Augustus if we can have a good breakfast first? I could use some food before we spend the whole day slaughtering those racist bastards and their monsters.”

Lee glanced over in the direction of the golems. He could always feel the two mice in his mind in this world, and their presence was something he had greatly missed while he was away. He couldn’t say with any certainty, since he had been fortunate enough so far to not actually lose a limb, but the absence felt to him like waking up and finding out his arm wasn’t there. He had grown used to using them as extra sets of eyes and ears, generally for coordinating movements and gathering items, and then the next moment they were both gone. If he hadn’t been bounced around on an impromptu hang out with Wolfe and Masha without time to process that feeling, it probably would have been a lot worse.

“Yeah, I think Augustus won’t have an issue helping us scrounge up some food for the faithful,” Lee answered. He sent the mice out to start gathering more foodstuffs and loaded the table up with plates of bacon and glasses of beer. He couldn’t help but chuckle about the fact that the annoying shapeshifter had actually been the one responsible for their meal, even if he had credited the egotistical, divine malefactor for nearly every meal he used his powers to produce.

After grabbing some of the bacon and taking a good swig or two of the beer, Lee went back to the corner and started working on a new sculpture. It was another mouse, just like the previous two, with wings, big ears, beady eyes and sharp claws. Where this golem differed, however, was that it was a little larger and designed to have a more capacious hollow space inside. It was also incredibly light, its entire body weighing less than an ounce and a half. He then took the nails that he had stored away and slowly added a layer of metal over the creature, covering it from tooth to tail in a shiny iron coat. Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 3 gave him 15% better mana efficiency when crafting, and adding the metal coating to the golem only took up about 14% of his total mana bar. Considering how little a few ounces of metal actually was, it felt like a bit of a rip off to him, and he couldn’t wait until he could finally start sculpting larger structures, weapons, devices and the like with metal.

Once it was done, Lee held up a new and improved, larger, shiny metal golem. He considered activating Golem Sculpting right away and completing it, but he decided not to, opting instead to wait until he could use the tiny bit of remaining space on the golem’s maximum volume bar to add a last finishing touch.

Since one of his golems was busy fetching food and storing it up for the day, he had the other start working on his plan to get out of this prison cell. He didn’t need to bust out right away if his captors were going to do nothing but spend the entire day power leveling him with monsters and fights, but he did need to plot his escape soon just in case their game plan changed. He couldn’t rely on this mysterious benefactor’s word that they wouldn’t harm him and that he would be safe in jail.

Before he could make any headway, however, Lee was once more thrust into the colosseum. The day went by much like the previous one, with Lee doing as much as he could to support Dave, but with Dave carrying the brunt of the work. Unbeknownst to the older man, he was also power leveling Miller, Ling and Amber. Lee was somewhat concerned by the fact he didn’t see any experience coming from those three, but he brushed it off as Miller working on his army instead. It was hard for Lee to imagine that the Firbolg would be capable of not killing anything for very long if he was in the incredibly-irate state implied in Ling’s letter, but he had to assume that Miller was focused on breaking him out of prison.

He made sure to use crafting skills every time his mana regenerated over the fifty-percent mark so that they would be leveling up as well, and he soon noticed the efficiency of his healing was going up as well. He started at a comfortable 300 hit points when the day began, and by the end of the day, he was able to convert 1% of his total mana into 15 health. That meant that the rate of healing either scaled with his total hit points or scaled with the unviewable total mana. The latter was a strong possibility. Since he only ever knew the percentage of mana remaining, not the actual number, the best he could do was guess.

“You know, you're getting a little better at this,” Dave commented as they stood over the corpses of their enemies at the end of the day. Lee had raised his level quite a lot: after a full day of killing, he had gone from halfway through 20 to just starting 23, his Swordplay skill had increased to Novice Level 7, and Glass Smithing had increased to Initiate Level 6.

“Nah, you’re just getting the hang of things again. Gotta polish off those cobwebs and kill a few people to get back in shape,” Lee said, picking up a shield he had dropped. Only moments ago, he had used it to split a Leprechaun’s chest cavity in two, slamming it into him over and over again.

Your mastery of Blood Shield has progressed from the rank of Initiate Level 1 to the rank of Initiate Level 2. It is often said that the best defense is a good offense and that a shield is one of the best offensive tools a soldier can use. Through unorthodox use of the shield, your skills with the tool have improved, and your reflexes have improved when both blocking and assaulting enemies with the shield.

Due to improving Blood Shield, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 152.

That particular fight had been both clean and messy in one sense of each word. The Leprechaun had taken Lee for an easy fight and rushed forward with a two-handed mace. Lee had known that his modified shield wouldn’t block the blow very well, and it might even have knocked out some of the spikes that he had been using a lot to catch and twist enemy blades, so he had tried using a slightly different tactic. He had dodged to the side while using his sword to try and divert the hefty weapon’s trajectory. It had been somewhat effective, giving Lee just enough room to outmaneuver the heavy steel head before it dug deep into the sand.

He had then used the edge of the shield to slam the Leprechaun in the chest, disrupting his opponent’s flow before he could bring his weapon up again. Then, taking advantage of the semi-stunned foe, Lee had punched forward with his sword, piercing through the man’s chest. Unexpectedly, when Lee had tried to retract his blade, the Leprechaun had been pulled forward along with it. It was likely due to a combination of bad footing and a firmly-lodged sword, but it turned out to be advantageous to Lee. Before his opponent had been able to regain his balance, Lee had thrust his next stab straight at the man’s shin and followed it up with another slam from his shield. The net effect had been to leave the screaming Leprechaun on the flat of his back.

Lee normally would have gone for a quick and clean kill, but that’s when Bloody Shield had activated and things had gotten messy. Lee had ended up dropping his sword, grabbing his shield with both hands and lunging on top of the fallen man. The bottom edge of the shield wasn’t designed for what Lee had in mind, but that hadn’t stopped him from slamming the shield down into the Leprechaun’s torso with all of his strength and body weight. Yet, as painful as the brutal attack had looked, it hadn’t done very much damage. Undeterred and spurred on by Blood Shield, Lee had repeated the process time and again, driving it back down into the exact same spot on the man’s chest. He had hammered away on the man’s sternum like it was a stubborn nail he was trying to push through ten inches of the finest hickory one could buy, and little by little, the screams that had originally punctuated his attacks had softened as his shield had dug deeper and deeper into the victim.

Lee probably would have kept going until the shield’s dull metal edge hit the sand, but one of the blows had ended up getting the shield caught in the Leprechaun’s spine. Lee hadn’t taken any damage at all, so the final fight of the day had proven to be quite neat and easy; and, given that Lee was now dripping from head to toe with blood, it was by far the messiest and fiercest fight of the day.

“So, after that . . .” --Dave pointed at Lee’s victim--“you gonna drink his blood like you do with the monsters? Or you think the poor bugger has had enough corpse defilement? I mean, you could leave the poor sod’s mother an open casket if you want, but if you want to keep on, that’s fine too.”

Lee looked down at the dead Leprechaun and said, loudly enough for everyone in the audience to hear, “Actually, I feel awful about having to kill him.”

“What? Why?” Dave asked, walking over and kicking the body. “He was going to murder you. Don’t be silly! What’s there to feel bad about?”

Lee turned his attention to the audience. He knew that the eyes of a full colosseum, nearly half of which was Human, were watching him intently. Even with all of the speeches and all the acting he had done and all the miracles he had performed in the past, this was the largest crowd he had seen since he arrived--and its total silence left him anxious and put his stomach in knots. Well, this is going to have to do, Lee thought, letting a moment pass as he reached down and covered the Leprechaun’s eyes in what he hoped would look like a somewhat caring moment. It’s not like I’ll have another chance if I keep waiting. The golems have been working hard, and the plan for tonight is already set up. Lee had managed to exchange letters with Connacht’s man during his lunch break, and in one exchange, he had gotten every piece of information he needed.

“I feel awful about it because, just like us, they were made to fight their brothers. They were made to dance like puppets before a crowd. But . . .” Lee paused, waiting a moment for dramatic effect. “If we had met in the street, we could have been friends. I’d have bought him a beer. I’d have poured a tall one in the name of Augustus and toasted the meeting of a stranger and new friend. But, instead, here he lies.”

Dave didn’t seem to catch onto what Lee was doing yet, but he was playing the perfect fiddle. “You would not have bought a Leprechaun a beer. That’s stupid. They’d never accept it!” he proclaimed.

“Why wouldn’t I? After all, in the coming days, we’ll be facing mutual extinction. Why couldn’t we have been polite to each other before we all possibly died fighting shoulder to shoulder?” Lee could feel the confusion from the audience. He even saw Dave blink a few times more than needed.

“What are you talking about?” Dave asked in confusion. “What extinction are we facing?”

“The great one. The one that I have come to herald: the end times for Kirshtein.” Lee kept his words as vague and ominous as possible. He knew that those watching weren’t there because they were impressed by his speechcraft, a skill he was so poor at that the system didn’t even recognize it. Rather, they were all there and listening intently because of the miracles he had performed. That’s why he didn’t hesitate in keeping them properly entertained. He knelt down in the dirt and started pouring all of his remaining mana into the sand. This was much more complicated than making a large bowl like he had previously when he trapped the acidic slime, and his mana bar dropped pretty quickly.

Dave looked incredibly concerned. “What end times? Out with it. What’s happening?”

“Well, Augustus told me that this city would face ruin--that a force would come in and divide its people,” Lee said as he finished his structure. It wasn’t nearly as detailed or intricate as he would have liked, but there beside his feet was a model of the town made of solid glass, shining with a glowing a purple light. It was at this point that Lee began working on a second sculpture, much smaller than his first: an army with a dragon soaring above it on wiry glass supports.

“You see,” Lee continued, “Augustus knew that Kirshtein was doomed. He knew that the Dwarves, Humans and Aes Sidhe would leave in droves. He knew that, as soon as the other races were trampled, the Firbolgs and the Leprechauns would vie to be kings of a shrinking hill.”

Lee used his sword to cut a line down the center of the city, splitting it into two pieces. He looked around to make sure that his magical display still held the audience’s attention and realized that, while they were watching, it was only in disbelief. Most of them didn’t even believe in Augustus despite the fact that Lee had changed monster blood into alcohol right in front of them along with countless other miracles. It might have been because he was the weaker of the two contestants, but more likely, it was simply that their bias against Humans prevented them from believing one could be a representative of a real deity. No matter what the case, their apprehension was visible.

“So what?” Dave asked matter-of-factly. He had caught on to the fact that Lee was up to something and was playing along now. “That’s just the way life is. These things happen.”

“Do they? Has no one ever wondered why the town was split and broken into so many pieces so quickly? More damage has been done to this city’s social structure in the past few months than has occurred in the last few hundred years, yet no one has wondered why.” A few people whom he could see nodded their heads at that.

Lee knew that people who didn’t have modern distractions like video games and television or books were likely to spend their free time gossiping and discussing the state of affairs. They probably had a very firm grasp on the situation, and even if they didn’t want to admit it, they were likely very keenly aware of the fracture he was calling attention to. There was no way to avoid the noticeable decrease in the city’s size when nearly half of its population had abandoned ship in the last two months.

“Well, I’m here to tell you why you are being split up. It’s not because it is for your own good, and it’s not that Humans or Firbolgs are any worse than one another. No, as I have come here to this colosseum to prove, we Humans can hold our own just as well as Firbolgs or Leprechauns. It’s because they need us to be separated. They need us to be split apart and at each other's throats so that they can break us with little to no effort,” Lee said.

“Who are they?” Dave asked. He was playing his part verbally, but his face had no expression even closely resembling shock, surprise or even curiosity.

“They will be revealed in due time. I know you think that I’m a prisoner here . . .” Lee looked around through a golem’s eyes, deciding this gamble was worth it. There was a small chance they’d shoot him, but he needed to take it for dramatic effect. “But I am not,” he continued. “I came here of my own volition and will leave as such before you see me again. Don’t bother showing up to the arena tomorrow. I will not be here. The purpose Augustus has given me for Kirshtein is almost complete. I have brought merriment to the downtrodden in the form of alcohol, I have brought miracles to the faithless, and I have heralded tidings of what is to come. How you prepare and what you prepare . . . it will all be upon you. When I do return again with the Paladins of my order, it will be at the eve of war, and your final trial will already be at your doorstep in plain sight for all to see.”

Dave blinked. “What are you talking about? ‘Final trial’?”

“That will be easy to tell soon enough. Time is short, and if you people choose squabbling and infighting over working together to prepare, that’s on you. I have said enough.” Lee took one last look at the glass city, the army and the dragon he had created. “I’ll see you all again very soon, and I hope you are not fractured to the point of dying when I return.”

With that, Lee left. Seeing the performance was over, Dave simply shrugged and followed after him. “You didn't really mean all that stuff, did you?” Dave asked. “Is Kirshtein really going to be attacked soon?”

“It is, and we will be free before it happens,” Lee responded. “So, when we get back, you better enjoy your dinner. Tonight will be busy, and you will need your strength.”

The two reached the guards at the exit.

“Hey, how many points are we up to?” he asked Oran. “How much loot can we purchase now?”

Oran looked at him and said, “Well, if we go by adjustments, he’s got a few hundred, and you’re at one hundred and seventy-three. I can round it up to one hundred and seventy-five for you,” he said, eliciting a stare from the other Firbolg.

“So, what is the nicest armor I can buy?” Lee asked. He wanted a weapon--badly--but he was worried that they might take it away from him if he purchased a good blade, and that would defeat the purchase.

“Well . . . depends on the type. You can afford a full metal plate armor set. That’s about one hundred and fifty points. There is also a reinforced steel shield you can get, and that’d be roughly fifty points, or you can get a fine studded leather armor set for the one hundred and seventy-five total.”

Lee liked the idea of plate, but he wasn’t confident he would have any comfort with it since it wouldn’t be a custom fit. He also didn’t know if they’d need a ton of adjustment time to get it to fit him properly. With leather, he was confident that he could just tighten straps and that it would work out. They likely had plenty of armor roughly his size, but unfitted plate armor would be much worse. On the other hand, he really did want a stronger shield. The one he had now had done him a ton of favors, as the bone spikes that had gotten stuck on the front thanks to the now-blood-soaked and hardened adhesive spit were working wonders for him, but he still wanted something with better durability.

“You know what? Screw it. I’ll go for the studded leather armor,” Lee said.

Dave patted Lee’s back. “Studs for the stud, eh? Good choice. You’ve already got that shield, so what’s the use of doubling down on killing your mobility?”

It was the ugliest brown imaginable, and the condition of the studs varied from a smooth lustrous shine to tarnished and dull, and there were scrapes in a few places that made Lee wonder if it had seen battle before. No, of course it probably has. Why wouldn’t they just fix up a piece of armor and toss it to the next guy instead of making a fresh new set? Despite its ugly appearance and preowned status, it didn’t stop him from eagerly opening up the stats page and smiling as he looked at the impressive numbers. Both the top and bottom pieces of the set gave him 25 armor each, a drool-worthy increase over the armor he had received the day before, which he had thought pretty good at the time. Lee couldn’t help but shake his head and grin a little stupidly.

It seems like basically everything offered to the prisoners here is better than anything that can be bought back in Satterfield, Lee thought as he looked over the numbers. He took a moment to equip the armor, turned the old equipment back in, and then left to the prison cell with Dave.

As soon as he was locked inside, he immediately began stacking plates of bacon on the tables and filling up mugs of beer so that the other prisoners would have food and drink. He also took the time to retrieve the supplies he needed from the golems. He didn’t intend to begin his plan right away, but the time wasn’t far off, and he needed to be ready when it came.

Alright, I’m going to have you drag Miller here as quickly as you can, Lee thought, sending the message to one of his golems. The prison break is likely going to be rough, and we need his crew in position to help us in case things get dicey. Miller had made it all the way to Satterfield and organized a small army. It was impressive how fast the Firbolg had acted.

After making sure that Miller would be waiting for him, he leaned against the door and acted like he was praying. Dave hit the table when he saw what Lee was doing and muttered something along the lines of, ‘If he’s praying, then we should too,’ and, ‘Only good meals we’ve gotten in months, so we should show some respect.’ The hungrily-eating bunch of prisoners stopped stuffing their mouths long enough to get down on their knees, lower their heads and at least looked like they were praying as well.

Lee was too focused on observing a mouse as it carefully snuck through the maze of guards to deliver the last remaining bottles of black ink and folded pieces of paper. Lee’s warning about what was to come had the guards on high alert, making the task even harder now than it had been before. To make matters worse, there were even more stationed nearby than there had been before, ostensibly so that they could keep a watchful eye on Lee and whatever it was he was planning.

Well, that just means there is a much higher chance of this getting bloody, but it shouldn’t disrupt the plan at all though. “Hey, you guys need to stop with the praying and get to the eating,” Lee urged.

“Are we really going to get out of here?” Pelham asked. “Dave said we’re getting out of here tonight.”

“Yeah, but maybe not alive if you don’t eat well, get some rest and mentally prepare yourself,” Lee warned in a soft voice, holding a finger over his mouth and hoping that the universal sign for ‘shhh’ in his world carried over. “Dave has had a chance to warm back up to violence, but the rest of you haven’t. There’s a very good chance we might run into one or two people that will stop us on our way out.”

“But how are we even going to get out?” one of them asked, stuffing his face with bacon a moment later.

Lee felt bad not knowing their names. He knew that he should have learned them all the day before, but given his circumstances, he had gotten swept up and lost in the chaos of his own life. He wanted to address them personally, to give them specific orders, but he couldn’t. Instead, he was forced to just avoid using their names like they were estranged, drunken hookups whose names he couldn’t remember.

“That’s simple,” Lee answered. “We pray. Augustus has told me when to pray and how to pray and promised me that we would be granted freedom within a minute of doing so. But, for the moment, I’m going to need some privacy and quiet. I need to have a conversation with the big man about what we are going to do.” Lee moved to the corner of the room, removed a fist full of bacon from his inventory and munched on it as he received the pilfered goods from the golem. Finally, he added the ink to the metallic-covered rodent he had made earlier, activated Golem Sculpting and gave it life.

There were some spots on the mouse he had missed, but it all smoothed over during the animation process, spreading across the metallic surface. Perfect. Lee smiled down at his creation. The golems had served their purpose without the slightest issue, but this one would be capable of so much more. Its claws weren’t made from hardened clay, but razor-sharp metal instead. Its central cavity was larger, meaning fewer trips would be needed if it had to run back and forth while carrying something, and most importantly, it had a level of built-in stealth the other two didn’t during the night time thanks to its black coating. A large, solid, black object darting around wouldn’t be that stealthy during the day, but at night, the camouflage would be peerless. In fact, Lee was considering whether or not he should add different dyes to each of the mice so that they would have their own environments or conditions for perfect stealth--perhaps adding blue to one of them so it could sneak through the waters unnoticed or adding green to one so it could run through grass nigh invisibly.

With the third golem done, there was only one final thing for him to do: make the key to the whole plan. He had already used a golem to not only fetch and store plenty of pieces of paper but to also hunt down the locker area where the guards stored the extra keys between the shifts. Thanks to the prison’s meticulous nature and quick organization, he had been confident that he knew precisely which key was the one he wanted. Then, he had memorized every facet of the key’s shape.

Now, with that in mind, he took the nails that he had been blacksmithing with before to raise his level and began crafting the key. He laid the metal out on the paper to make sure there wouldn’t be any issues with the length or proportions when he began visualizing and then proceeded to go to work. This process took a lot longer than even golem crafting. The amount of metal might have been small, but the amount of mana needed was huge. The keys at the prison were larger than most, and it took just over 90 grams worth of iron to replicate. This meant that Lee was close to losing ten percent of his total mana just shaping a single key, and that gave him even more incentive to take his time and make sure it came out flawlessly on the first try and prevent wasting any mana.

Once he was finished, he passed the key to the newest golem, who unceremoniously used its larger frame to gobble as much of it up as he could, though the tip was left protruding from its mouth, and then squished his way through the hole and out of the cell. After that, it was just a waiting game. All he could do was hope that the cover of darkness and the night shift would come soon.

Once the changing of the guards occurred, Lee stood up. Smiling to the men around him, he said, “Alright, gentlemen. It’s time to have some fun and stretch our legs. Are you ready?”

Chapter 9

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 23

Health: 330/330

EXP: 1977/25500

Primary Stats:

Power 33 (34)

Toughness 33 (34)

Spirit 33 (34)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 19

Intelligence 152 (159)

Honor 5

Faith 787

Personal Faith 245

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 7

Sneak Journeyman Level 1

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 2

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 6

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 2

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 3

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

Lee had been planning this since he had first played a game of chess with Masha’s father, and he couldn’t help but grin as he looked at the eager prisoners. They weren’t well-armored, and they didn’t have any weapons, but he had been reminded that they were being starved in the giant cell for a reason: they were experts. From the former Knight Captain Pelham to the destroyer on the sands, Dave, they were likely all the best that the fallen faction of Humanity still had to offer in Kirshtein. The rest, those who couldn’t handle fights or weren’t incredibly powerful, had already died on the sands to monsters.

The only two things limiting them from being a threat were the facts that they didn’t have enough food to muster the energy to put up a good fight and that they mostly didn’t have weapons or proper armor. Lee had been letting them eat and drink to their heart’s content for the past forty-eight hours, solving the first problem, and he even had a fix for the second.

“Well, since you’re ready, I think it’s time that you armed yourselves for what's to come,” Lee said, pulling glass swords from his inventory. The base damage on them was still only 2, but with Lee’s Glass Smithing at Initiate Level 6 now, the weapons had a total of 9 damage each. Combined with the power bonus from their levels, the newly-made weapons would deal a high amount of damage rather quickly--so long as they didn’t directly strike plate armor. There was still an issue with their durability, but Lee had done a little testing while Dave was going slaughter-happy and found that each increase in his glass working also increased the durability of the shields he produced. He wasn’t certain if that bonus carried over to swords he created, but he could only hope so as he handed out the weapons.

“Now,” he began, “we’re going to have a lot of fighting ahead of us, and these weapons are not easy to reproduce. You need to take care of them. Don’t assume that these are as strong as steel. They might be gifts that Augustus has told me to give to you, but they are still only glass. They will break and shatter if you try to parry or block with them, so only use them for stabbing. Aim for soft spots, and don’t try to cut through thick pieces of bone.”

“They didn’t confiscate my weapon,” Dave said, tossing Lee back the short blade only to have it snatched out of the air by Pelham.

Pelham twisted the blade in his hand, testing its weight and balance. “‘I’m used to using shields with short swords, but I’ll take the challenge,” he said. “And we can’t use them to parry? Sounds like a blast. We wouldn’t be knights if we didn’t give ourselves a massive handicap so that the fights were fair and balanced, now would we, men?”

Lee wasn’t sure if he was doing a proper sword kata, but his movements were beautiful to watch. The sword spun around so quickly and so smoothly that it left after afterimages and tracers in its wake, reminding Lee of someone waving around a colored sparkler.

I have to keep these men under my command after this is over, Lee thought as his eyes darted between the dual-wielding Pelham and Dave, who had just pulled out his tried and true giant, two-handed flail. Each one of them is like another Miller but with a different weapon of choice.

The man closest to Pelham laughed and remarked, “You say that, but you have two blades. I’m stuck with one!”

“I’m not sure how honorable and just a prison break is for a knight like me,” another said, giving the weakest laugh he could as he touched the blade. “But I think I’ve had enough of the law. I don't think I ever should have let them arrest me in the first place.”

“Yeah, if I had known how they would treat me, I’d have killed a few of them before being dragged in here,” the man by Pelham replied.

“Hey,” Pelham interjected, cutting them off before the conversation ran too far astray. “Lots of us have family on the outside. Would you have wanted to see them butchered just for pride while we were locked away? You did the right thing, and now a god is rewarding us, so form up proper. Mister Herald Lee here is expecting us to facilitate some good old-fashioned bloodshed as we claim our freedom, and I damn well better see every single one of you complying.”

Lee blinked, doing his best to hide his surprise. Nameless prisoners numbers two through eight used to be knights under Pelham? Were they all arrested at the same time, or did they get dragged here separately under different charges? He regretted that he hadn’t spent more time listening to their tales. Nope, no time for those thoughts. Lee shook his head and pushed away his curiosity. Ethan was quickly approaching the door, and he didn’t plan on making the little guy wait.

Lee didn’t have a complex plan. The most difficult part had been in finding a route that would limit his encounter with the snipers on the towers, but it was fundamentally simple: sneak out, kill anyone that noticed them and hide the evidence. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll give the signal when it’s time to open that door. It’ll be unlocked, and when it is, we will need to secure the guards as quickly as possible. Pelham, I know you’re eager for blood, but I think Dave should be the one to go out first since his weapon is better. I also suggest you all form one party and equip any loot you get as soon as you get it. Oh, and one last thing: I need those of you in the middle to carry corpses whenever possible. The last thing we want is for dead bodies to signal our presence before we’re out of here, and we can’t have an exposed flank, so the people in the back don’t need to be the ones lifting dead weight.”

“I’ll volunteer for that,” one of the redshirts said, stepping forward.

“Me too,” his companion said with a nod. “I’m not as good as Taj with a weapon, but I can hold my own. I used to be a blacksmith before I was locked up, so I’m used to lugging around the dense blocks.”

Blacksmith? Perfect! Satterfield’s gear has been sorely lacking, so I need to get him back there as soon as possible once we’re out of here. If I didn’t know first-hand how racism is hobbling this town, I’d laugh at the fact the guards didn’t put such a valuable craftsman to work instead of out on the sands. Oh, well. Their loss.

“Alright then, men,” Lee said as he looked over at the door. He had the mouse carrying the key scurry up the door and force the key into the lock. The two guards stationed outside would likely hear the noise, but another of the little mice was already prepared to intercept them. It launched itself into the air and landed on one of the guard’s faces, flapping and beating his wings to obstruct the guard’s vision.

“Get it the hell off!” the guard yelled.

Before his comrade could fulfill the request, however, the now-unlocked door burst open, and Dave came through and smashed the man in the face. The giant spiked ball at the end of his flail caved the man’s skull in as if it were striking a water balloon, and blood exploded everywhere.

“Less messy!” Lee advised as the golem dropped off the other man’s face and flew away.

The rodent’s departure gave the guard only a second of vision before the spiked ball of Dave’s flail crushed his rib cage in and smashed him against the wall at the same time.

“There. Less messy. But honestly? I don’t see the point. If someone comes by and finds this room unguarded, they’re going to know something is up,” Dave protested.

The blacksmith stepped forward to grab the corpse, but Lee stopped him. “No, you guys, cover the blood with dirt and sand. Make it hard to see. I’m going to throw this body into the cell and lock the corpses up behind us. There’s no reason to carry more than we need to.” Lee hoisted both of the dead men’s remains over his two shoulders, lugged them back into the cell and then unceremoniously dumped them against a wall behind the door. Before he left the bodies, he snatched a set of keys off one of them. He didn’t know what locked doors he might come up against ahead, and, as a rule, he knew that one should always collect keys when in a dungeon.

“So where to now, boss?” Dave asked as Lee stepped back out of the door. The floors and walls were filthy with dirt, but there wasn’t any noticeable blood.

“Alright, follow me,” Lee said, walking in front of the group. “Augustus has told me exactly which turns to make.” He didn’t even have to use his mental connection to know that Ethan was upset with Lee attributing credit to the drunken deity once again.

They took several twists and turns through the labyrinthine prison, doing their best to dodge as many of the guards as possible. The golems had been exploring the prison for days, and they had developed a fairly competent understanding of where most of the guards were stationed and how to avoid them. As such, the group made fairly decent progress as they worked their way toward the entrance. They only had to kill a total of eleven guards on the way, and each was traveling either in a pair or alone. The whole operation seemed as if it would be a success, coming off without a single real hitch, but then an uneasy feeling started in Lee’s stomach. His brain kept screaming, This is too easy! Something isn’t right! This is too easy! Something is wrong here! over and over again, but the group continued around each corner unobstructed.

Dave rounded the final corner first, and the barbaric old man dropped the last three remaining guards before the rest of the group had time to even react. He turned to the rest as they joined him and remarked, “Seems like Augustus really is looking after us. It looks like freedom will finally be ours.”

“Yeah, it seems that way,” Lee said, watching the door as the group scuffed dirt over the bloodstains and the body-holders picked up the fresh corpses. “Now, I guess the only thing left is for us to get free of this area. Once we’re out, you need to find Connacht’s faction. It’s the last remaining one that will put you all up. I’ve already written him and let him know that you’re coming, and he’s helped each one of your families reach a safe point, so they won’t be able to hold any leverage against you.”

Pelham’s ears perked up and he suddenly looked interested. “Connacht? That arrogant upstart is actually going to help us out? What’s he after? Why hasn’t he done anything sooner? He could have gotten us out legally if he wanted, but he just watched us get rounded up and tortured. How can we trust him?”

Yeah, good points all, but who else are you going to trust? “Do you have someone else in a position of power who will look after your families and loved ones?” Lee asked the obvious question rather than trying to challenge him. “I’ll see that everything is taken care of if you do.”

“No,” Pelham answered. “But I don’t have any loved ones still alive to mention. I don’t need to throw in with his lot. I’m fine just sticking with you. I owe my freedom to Augustus anyway.”

“Mine just died of old age,” Dave said. “I’d like to help you as well. I’ll do what I can to help protect this town.”

Lee felt a wave of relief. He looked over at the first two redshirts, only to see them turning their heads and not meeting his gaze. “It’s fine, guys. Don’t worry about it. You have family and people you care about. You need to take care of them. Connacht will help you do that, so stick with him. He might not be the best guy to have in your corner, but he’s the only one you can look to. After the war is done and things settle down, you can move your families to Satterfield. I’ll personally see to it they are fed, taken care of and employed. I’ll find something for everyone. You can trust me on that.”

“That sounds good,” the blacksmith responded. “My family will be the first to move.”

No matter how happy he was at the prospect of getting a blacksmith for Satterfield, Lee still decided to cut off the chatter. “That sounds great. But we need to get moving. Let’s not count our chickens before the eggs hatch. We’ve got just one last door, and Augustus won’t tell us what’s on the other side of it.”

The golem guiding Miller was fast approaching their location, but Lee’s reinforcements on that side were still a way off. The two golems with Lee couldn’t get through the wall to see what was on the other side because there weren’t any holes. This part of the prison had the worst airflow and was sealed up tight. The only reason Lee knew this was an exit was because he had mapped the whole structure out already, and the door had been open when the rodents went through during the day. The lack of information made Lee incredibly uncomfortable, more so because of how easily they were able to get so far. He wanted to believe it was his skill and planning, but he didn’t have an ego large enough for that. He had been defeated way too often by Masha’s father.

“Well, ready to leave?” Dave asked as he walked toward the door.

“No!” Lee finally made a gut call. “This isn’t right. I have a bad feeling about this, and Augustus won’t tell us what’s on the other side. There should be a lot more soldiers in the room north of us, but I think it’s worth exiting through that one instead. I think it’ll be safer.” Lee took a deep breath to steady himself. We might get hurt or lose someone, but it’s better than walking into a trap and having us all wiped out or having someone die without even getting the chance to put up a fight. He remembered all too well exactly how David had been killed as soon as he opened the door to the bar when they went to take down Ramon.

The group pressed ahead and soon went through a slightly-harder spot. The fight should have been more brutal than it was, but the guards were all comparatively weak. They were throw-away fights compared to the ones that Lee and Dave had faced in the colosseum.

“Can we go through this door?” Dave asked as he kicked some dirt over the final blood spot. “Or maybe you want to go clean out some more of the prison and kill more of these corrupt Firbolg bastards as we leave?”

“Honestly”--Pelham twirled his wrist to fling off the excess blood from his blade--“I don’t mind that plan. It’s not like they weren’t going to kill us once the time was ripe. I have no problem returning the favor if you want to keep exploring the prison.”

Lee shook his head. “No, this door should be good. I still can’t tell what’s on the other side, but it should be okay.”

He readied his shield, hoisting it in front of him, and opened the door. It was pitch black outside, but the rodents’ eyesight was keen enough that he could spot out a lot of movement. Before he could even take one step backward, Dave, Pelham and the others pushed forward into the open street in front of this prison exit, preventing his retreat in the process. The excitement of freedom for those that had been locked in a cage and starved for over a month was too much for the people behind him.

“FRESH FREAKING AIR!” Dave shouted, dropping his two-handed flail on the ground as he stretched his arms and took in a deep breath.

“Hey, easy there, big guy,” Lee cautioned. We’re still making a prison break. No need to announ--” Lee’s unfinished word bled into the loud, thunking sound of steel burying itself into wood.

Lee was finally able to make out the faces of people around them, but he had already known exactly who they were as soon as he noticed that they were there: this was the same group that had been responsible for arresting him at the Hunter’s Guild, the one led by the female guard captain, Delilah, who had wanted to make him a slave. She was currently carrying a crossbow, and his instinct from Initiate Level 2 of Blood Shield kicked in the moment he saw it. His arm shot out before he even realized what he was doing, catching the bolt she had shot on his shield and saving Dave from a fatal blow. It happened so quickly that Lee didn’t even have time to think, and if the guard captain had pulled the trigger a second sooner, Dave’s brains would have been pasted across the faces of the guys behind him.

“Ah . . . you make me tingle, little man.” The guard captain’s lips slowly curled upward as her upper teeth jutted out and bit across the top of her lower lip. “So young, so vibrant, so talented . . . I can’t wait to take you alive and break you. They didn’t let me keep you the first time, but I’ll have you this time. I’ll be the first master of a slave Herald in all of Kirshtein, and I’ll be sure to abuse you as I wish.”

“What’s going on?” Dave questioned, reaching down and grabbing his flail. “Why are you here?”

“I’m kind of curious myself,” Lee said, looking at the group of twenty-one people. With their numbers, weapons and armor, he had no doubt there was a good chance that his small force would be overpowered if the fight dragged on. These weren’t the rinky-dink lackeys that Dave, Lee and Pelham had cut through earlier: this band was organized and looked to be veterans.

“What is going on? Well, I think it’s rather obvious, don’t you?” Delilah said. “I’m here because I knew he would be here,” she said, pointing to Lee.

Lee didn’t say anything. He just did his best to look dumbfounded and curious so that she would keep talking. The more time he bought, the closer Miller, Ling, Amber and the others would be. Once they arrived, things would be better. They had a number of capable fighters who would even out the odds, and then they would stand an even better chance--especially if Miller showed up before the fight broke out and flanked the captain’s group.

“Oh, that face is priceless,” Delilah chuckled. “You’re wondering how I knew you’d be here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lee said, baiting her into a longer villain’s monologue. “Why would you pick this particular exit? How did you know which one I’d use even when I didn’t?”

She licked her lips. “Ah, that question. The easy one. I picked this door because I didn’t underestimate you. Everyone else thought you were an idiot. They thought you’d take the first and easiest door, the one with the fewest guards. The Grand Warden spotted that Human scum from Connacht’s little worthless faction here and took from your speech that he had fed you intel somehow. We could only assume that he must have bribed a guard and gotten you keys and maps. If a fool looks at any of the maps, then there is only one possible exit that a fool should take--the one of least resistance,” she explained.

“But we didn’t take the easiest one. This wasn’t the best route,” Lee countered, pointing out the obvious.

“Right. But that’s why those idiots are all at the other door. They’re waiting for you with rows and rows of archers and guards, ready to kill you where you stand. It was a nice plan too since no one will say a word if they kill you and your merry bunch during an escape. Connacht will just have to admit his defeat and our Herald’s superiority. They were certain you’d take that door because it leads out into a dark alley that was almost always vacant and empty. It had very few to no regular guards stationed in the anteroom, and it was close to your cell. As for me, well, I liked their plan, but I knew better. I’ve watched every single fight of yours!” Her massive chest rose and fell, and her cheeks reddened. “I knew you were special . . . so special, so smart. I knew that you wouldn’t fall for an obvious trick like that. You’re just not the type.”

“So how did you pick this one?” Lee asked.

“Because it was the next easiest one if you were next to the door leading to the trap,” she said as she used her right hand to grab at her own chest. “It just leaves me so excited thinking about it: the rat caught in my trap. I thought you were a worthless dog when we first met, just another Human piece of scum with delusions of grandeur, but now I know better. You’re not a worthless dog. You’re a clever little monkey that needs to be spanked and beaten and punished for not knowing his proper place.”

“I would like to say I’m much more handsome than a monkey.” Lee did his best to smile despite the fact that her sexually-aggressive tone, the nature of her words and the way she was moving were all both arousing and incredibly disturbing. She’ll be dead soon--or you will be--so don’t worry about what she’s saying.

“I wouldn’t push your luck,” she cooed, clearly aroused. “Monkeys at least have a reason for their scruffy and unclean faces. But I think we’ve spent enough time--”

“Wait.” Lee stopped her before she could switch from dialogue to combat. “I have to ask: what’s with the slave thing? Are you having trouble getting a real boyfriend?”

“Captain would never--” The man on her right started to speak, but she yelled at him the second he started.

“SILENCE! Did you think that you were allowed to join the conversation? Know your place,” she lectured, pulling out a sword and slashing at his armor hard enough to draw blood.

Wow. Lee blinked. She’s full-on psycho. Wolfe had always told him that good looking women were prone to be crazy since so few people would call them on their nonsense and risk losing a chance at bedding them, but this woman was the first time Lee had actually seen the mythical ‘crazy-yet-hot’ situation in such vivid and striking detail.

“I gotta be honest, boss. She does it for me,” Pelham said from Lee’s left. “She just does it for me.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I’m only going to keep one little slave boy, and it isn’t you,” the captain said. “So, tell me: which one of you wants to die first? Or maybe you can turn yourself in to me? Make the process less painful now and much less painful later.”

We could barricade ourselves inside the prison and force them through a choke point until Miller and his crew arrive . . . Lee looked around, trying to figure out exactly how he was going to handle the situation. Or . . . “I have one last question first,” Lee started again. He had no illusions that he could buy them even a minute longer. The captain’s face made it plain that she was getting antsy, and he could feel that she was likely getting ready to attack them no matter what, so he decided to give out his formation order to the others in a way that wouldn’t immediately trigger the battle.

“What’s that, my little monkey?”

“Can you . . . Men, throw the dead bodies in front of us! Make a line of them! Quick!” Lee shouted.

“What?” Pelham and Dave asked the same question simultaneously, but those behind did exactly as they were told. An entire night of barking out orders along with getting them through the maze without a single casualty or injury had instilled enough trust in the men with him that they didn’t bother questioning him at that crucial point. They rushed forward and stacked up the twenty-five odd bodies to create a pseudo-barricade between his group and the guards. The captain had cleared out a large, double-laned street, leaving about thirty paces between the two, so space to work with wasn’t an issue. The only problem was the terrain was too even for his taste.

Lee moved forward and positioned himself right behind the corpse wall. He hadn’t learned much about battle from his fencing instructor, but between Alexander’s lessons and his saber instructor’s notes, he had learned exactly how important terrain was. The bodies in front of them might not be enough to block projectiles, but it seemed like the only guard with a ranged weapon was the captain. She might actually be able to shoot one of the men who didn’t have a shield every now and then, but the mound of bodies helped even the odds. They were slippery with blood, and they created uneven surfaces that the enemy would struggle to get over if they charged. They would break momentum and force the attackers to be cautious with their assault. Footwork was one of the most important parts of a fight, and that simple barricade had created a hazardous trap for their foes, forcing them to choose between unsure, poor or inconvenient footholds or simply remain at a distance.

“Clever, clever monkey,” the captain said, noting the line of haphazardly-tossed corpses with a smile as she threw her crossbow to the side and pulled out a zweihander. “It seems I’m going to have to bend you a little before you’ll break. Men, charge!”

Lee’s men rushed forward to man the wall, pulling out their swords.

“Dave, go to the right flank. Kill anyone who tries to get around and surround us. Pelham, you take the left.” Lee wanted his two best fighters to guard the most vulnerable spots. The lines of corpses were solid, and they had the prison building at their rear, so his only real concern for the moment was stopping the initial surge. If he couldn’t do that, what little advantage he gained from the corpse wall would disappear completely, and Lee’s small band of escapees would be swallowed up like a paramecium being eaten by an amoeba.

Dave and Pelham quickly moved through to the sides, and two of the redshirts shifted to fill the openings. Lee had hoped that his little trick would give him a quick win, but the crazy woman just ignored the corpses, pushing through them. Just as she had almost cleared them completely, she jumped into the air and heaved her whole body at Lee. With the speed and ferocity of the swing, it looked to Lee as if she were trying to cut the sky above him in two, and when it hit him, that description felt even more real. Lee was used to being knocked around by strong opponents, but her momentum didn’t just knock him backward: it buried her sword into his shield and drove him down.

Lee’s arms flailed back as he tried to catch himself and dissipate the strike’s power, and by some stroke of fortune, her sword was torn from her grasp as the two went tumbling back. There was a brief struggle as she fought to remain upright, but then she lost her fight against gravity and collapsed forward as well, landing on top of him. Despite being disarmed, she had the advantage of leverage, positioning, and two free hands to work with. Lee, unfortunately, couldn’t even so much as wrestle his shield free from underneath her pressing weight, and when he tried to feebly attack her back with his sword, she pinned his other arm to the ground as well. She pulled back with her free hand and struck down, landing a solid blow across Lee’s jaw. His vision flashed to black as the blow struck, 17 health was ticked away, and he was left disoriented from the force of the blow. She struck out twice more in the same fashion before he could get his bearings, dropping him from 330 to 279 health in mere seconds.

“Suffer, my little pet! Suffer for me!” Delilah licked her lips sadistically before smashing his face in two more times with her fist.

Lee reflexively shrugged his head to the side and unsuccessfully tried to hide it behind the edge of his shield, but she still managed to strike him yet again. Desperate to get her off of him, he hooked his leg around hers and bucked his hips to the side, flinging her up and to his right. Her weight pressed down on his sword arm as she landed, causing him to drop his weapon, but she landed with a small yelp and a grimace, and Lee realized that she must have come down on her own dropped weapon.

He tried to bring his shield around and use it as a type of bludgeon, hoping to slam it into her face and force her off of his pinned arm, but she wasn’t having it. She reached out and wrapped herself around Lee, pulling him against her and squeezing tightly. He automatically wrenched his arm between them and pressed against her, hoping to push her away, and he watched as her eyes grew wider.

“You’re not supposed to touch those without permission from your master!” she hissed, even as he realized what he was pushing against. “Perhaps I’ll take off this armor and let you try them unobstructed if you behave. I might even let you give them a kiss.”

“Ugh! Will--” Lee pushed even harder, using his legs to create leverage and move forward as he did so. If he couldn’t create distance between them by pulling away, he figured he might as well switch things up and try pressing ahead. “Will you . . . just . . . shut . . . up?” Lee gasped out the words as the two fought against one another. He twisted around to the side and then climbed up onto his knees so that he could leverage his weight against her. Just as he positioned himself on top, his hand slipped forward, and he collapsed down onto her, his forearm pressed against her throat.

He had never choked anyone before, and he didn’t have a clue as to how the mechanic would even work in this world. He wasn’t sure if suffocation would be a slow-building ticker that would eventually cause a knock out followed up by fatality if the choking persisted, or if it would act as a damage-over-time that slowly drained her health. It was a huge oversight in Lee’s knowledge of the game, and his ignorance made him kick himself while he pressed down, taking advantage of the situation. Her face started to change colors after about a minute, and her slightly-bluish complexion gave him hope that it was working despite the lack of any technical way to verify that assumption.

“Lee, I don’t know what type of kinky stuff you Heralds get into, but you need to finish up quickly. We’ve got more company, and we’re having trouble holding as it is,” Dave yelled over the crowd. “There’s another Firbolg rushing toward us at full speed, and it looks like he’s bringing reinforcements.”

What? Reinforcements? A Firbolg? Lee blinked. It was at that point that he realized exactly who was coming and smiled as he switched tactics. Dave and the others might be panicked about the newcomer, but with just a glance through a golem’s eyes, he knew exactly who it was.

“It’s Miller!” Lee shouted happily.

As if on cue, a giant spear soared through the air and tore right into one of the enemy Firbolgs. Dave’s relentless slaughter on the sands must have paid off in powerleveling the angry Firbolg. Even from the ground, wrestling with psychotic enemy leader, Lee could still see an improvement in both speed and power as the spear dug into the guard, the force carrying both the spear and the Firbolg several feet back and leaving the man gruesomely skewered.

Your party has killed Norman. Your party has been awarded 25 silver, 12 copper, a well-polished Iron Helmet and 756 Experience. Your share of this is 9 silver, 3 copper, and 189 Experience.

“Lee!” Miller shouted when he spied Lee grappling with the enemy leader. “It’s her! It’s them!” Miller’s shouts grew louder as he charged forward, pulling out another spear from his inventory and hurling it. “It’s those bastards who defied law and order and wrongfully arrested the very Herald of Augustus!”

Lee didn’t have any reason to feel bad or guilty for what was about to happen to the woman he was fighting with, but he did. He knew Miller, and he had read the letter. He had read every single word that Miller had written, and Lee didn’t doubt for a minute that he would fulfill each and every violent promise down to the letter if possible. “I’m sorry,” he said to the captain. “You win some; you lose some. But even a wench as crazy as you doesn’t deserve what’s about to happen to you.”

Letting go of his hold, he instead began climbing over her instead of trying to strangle her. He wrestled himself free a moment later, propelled forward and into the dirt.

“Huh? What . . . What are you . . . talking about?” she asked confusedly, gasping for breath. Whatever confusion she might have felt wasn’t reflected in her movements, however, and her hand instantly snaked out, trying to grab ahold of her sword.

Lee was a bit slower in making a move for his weapon, but it didn’t matter. The fight was already over as far as he was concerned. It had been done with the moment Miller arrived with reinforcements. He grabbed ahold of his sword and turned back to the mentally-unsound captain just as a spear ripped through her right knee, causing her to scream out in pain.

Just like he promised, Lee thought, remembering the second and third pages of the letter that Miller had written. Lee turned to survey the rest of the fight, a privilege he hadn’t had when he was focused on staying alive earlier, only to see that his small band of Humans had managed to hold. There was only one dead redshirt, and almost everyone else was sporting one wound or another. The blacksmith was cut up really badly, his hand covered in blood and the glass sword Lee had issued him shattered about his feet--but he was still alive for the moment. He was desperately trying to stop a Firbolg from crossing the barricade, and in such horrible shape, it was obviously a losing battle.

Lee panicked over the prospect of losing someone so valuable, and he was in motion even before his brain caught up with what his body was doing. But he didn’t even make it to the man before a series of arrow rained down into the Firbolg. Ling’s work was fast, her aim was accurate, and the aggressing Firbolg died before he even knew what happened.

Your party has killed Adham. Your party has been awarded 20 silver, 40 copper, a high-quality leather belt and 789 Experience. Your share of this is 5 silver, 10 copper and 197 Experience.

Ling, Amber and three archers began to finish off the rest of the guards, and Lee turned back to the captain. She was in screaming pain as she tried to claw her way toward the prison across the ground. A spear had ripped a hole in her knee so large that everything on that leg from her shin down was only held in place by the skin around the hole.

“Miller, why aren’t you using drunken shout?” Lee asked, feeling a little sick as he watched the sight. Just die already! Lee walked over to her with his sword in hand, ready to finish the job before Miller could torture her anymore.

“No! She needs to feel it all! She tried to break my family. She tried to take those I care about! She needs to feel every single bit of this!” Miller yelled. He closed the distance with a large leap over three corpses and then, without even missing a beat, he took a new spear and stabbed it hard and deep into her remaining knee before stepping on her shin, twisting the spear around and severing her leg at the joint.

“Miller, we’ve won. You don’t need to do this. It isn’t justice. It’s vengeance.”

“Justice is vengeance,” Miller said flatly as looked back at Lee. “Those who commit evil, those who do wrong for selfish reasons or aid in the vile and wicked actions of others, cannot be tolerated. We must teach them. We must teach them to their very bones!” Miller paused, lifted his spear and then shouted as he stabbed down and into her lower spinal column, somewhere around the middle of her lumbar area. “This is Lady Justice. This is her vengeance meant to educate anyone who watches about what will happen to all those who dare defile her name!”

Lee had been elated to see his friend only moments ago, but he now felt a ball of indescribable discomfort make its way down his throat and into his stomach. “Miller, finish the job. We need to be out of here.”

Miller shot Lee a look that, even after spending nearly all day with the man for a week, he had never seen before. He thought that Miller was going to put up an argument, but the Firbolg just grunted before taking out a sword and kicking her in the side with so much force that she was flipped over onto her back. Even if the previously-tough commander had been the worst person Lee had met in all of Kirshtein, her agonized screams were tough to bear as Miller cut her open from sternum to waist.

“No,” Miller said, stopping Lee as he readied his own sword for a quick finishing blow. “This won’t take more than a second.”

How many hit points does she have left? Lee watched as Miller planted a foot against her upper chest, bent over, and shoved his arm into the cavity he had just created. He retracted his blood-soaked hand a moment later, her heart clenched in his fist.

“Done,” Miller said emotionlessly. “We can go now.”

Your party has killed Delilah, Captain of the Kirshtein Guard. Your party has been awarded 5 gold, 20 silver, 88 copper, a high-quality crossbow, 9 crossbow bolts, a studded leather collar and 1800 Experience. Your share of this is 1 gold, 5 silver, 22 copper and 450 Experience.

Lee wanted to leave, and he wanted to talk to Miller about what was simply just right or wrong and what taking something too far meant, but he knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. One glance at this scene and anyone who had previously been on his side in the colosseum would change their tune. Crushed limbs, opened intestines, arrows pierced through skulls and pools of blood--it was a public relations nightmare.

Your party has killed Llewelyn. Your party has been awarded 15 silver, 42 copper, a good-quality spear and 721 Experience. Your share of this is 4 silver, 11 copper and 180 Experience.

Your party has killed Meaghan. Your party has been awarded 17 silver, 16 copper, well-polished iron greaves and 775 Experience. Your share of this is 4 silver, 22 copper and 194 Experience.

The death notifications kept flooding in. Amber and Ling had each finished off a half-dozen stragglers, adding to the carnage. “No, now we can’t,” Lee said, shaking his head. “Grab the bodies. All of them. We might have to kill the guard at the gate, but we can’t leave these here.” If someone sees this in the morning, we’ll go from the heroes of the colosseum, the magic men of yesterday, to the haunting horrors of tomorrow.

Dave just looked at the scene and nodded. “That’s probably for the best,” he said, grabbing three bodies in one quick motion and tossing them over his shoulder. “Just lead the way.”

Lee didn’t want to have to deal with any further corpse desecration from his buddy, so he grabbed the captain’s body and tossed it over his own shoulder before starting to head out of town. While Lee had been preoccupied that day with leveling and crafting, his golems had been in touch with Connacht’s man. One of the letters that the prince had sent during the most recent of the clandestine hand-offs to Little Ethan included a small map with a meeting location, so he didn’t have to worry about where they were going. When they reached the gate where Connacht had told them to meet, he found the prince along with fifty soldiers there waiting for him, each holding a crossbow pointed at Lee’s group.

“Sorry about my people here, my friend,” the prince said as he raised a hand, signaling for the crossbowmen to stand down. “I have to take precautions. I’m sure you understand.”

Lee blinked. Is this a betrayal? “Did you fulfill your side of the deal?” Not knowing whether he would be turned into a pincushion before a fight broke out, Lee decided to act under the assumption that the prince was just being paranoid. After all, with Miller’s group included, there were over thirty trained killers in front of Connacht, and several were very highly-skilled people from a separate faction.

“Indeed. Everything has been completed perfectly, and you will find my preparations quite satisfactory,” Connacht said, inspecting the men behind Lee with so much concentration that it was obvious the prince was studying them in detail.

Lee felt relief wash over him. That’s not the look of a man sizing up his enemy. No, it’s the look of a man unboxing a new toy. He’s trying to see what he bought. Lee didn’t know how he was able to tell that subtle difference, as he normally couldn’t read a person’s face if it were spelled out in size forty-two font and he was ten inches away before his first venture into this realm, but now he could. Perhaps it’s the Intelligence or the Charisma or just the continued use of my Deceit stat. All of those either require me to read a person’s face or give me a bigger brain to do so.

Connacht’s smile grew as he pulled out two scrolls and handed them to Lee. “If this is the end of our transaction, I suggest you get moving. If your plan is to go well, then you don’t have much time to waste. I’ll take care of these men for you. You don’t need to wait around and see to it.”

Lee turned back to the trusty crew that had gotten him this far. “Brothers,” Lee said, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, “it’s been fun. Stay safe, and if you ever need to, make a trip to Satterfield to drink with us after the war.”

“The war?” one of the crossbowmen asked, and then his eyes widened with fear. It was clear from that look that Connacht’s men were disciplined and that speaking out of turn wasn’t allowed.

The prince looked over at him, giving the man a dead-eyed stare for a moment, before turning back to Lee. “Godspeed, my friend. Godspeed.”

Lee nodded and then took off through the exit the prince had prepared along with the people from Satterfield, Dave and Pelham. He could see Connacht’s displeasure the second Dave and Pelham moved to join Lee as they passed by, but he chose not to comment since he already knew the conversation would bear no fruit. Sometimes, it really is just better to ignore the problem. Lee laughed to himself, drawing a look of confusion from Amber and Ling. Especially when the conversation would end up treating talent like tools right in front of said talent.

The group didn’t make it more than twenty feet past being out of eyeshot before Lee was struck in the back by a tackling hug that sent him flying forward. He hadn’t been anticipating the embrace at all, so when it hit him as hard as it did, he could do little other than reach out and hope to catch himself.

“What in the heck?” Lee asked, peering through a golem’s eyes to find out who had attacked him. He had expected it to be Amber, but it was actually Ling.

“You big freaking idiot!” she scolded from atop his back. “How could you let yourself be captured so easily? And why would you stay in there so long? Don’t worry me like that!” She squeezed him tightly as Lee used his stat-enhanced strength to push away from the ground push-up-style and avoid eating a face full of gravel.

“I didn’t really have--”

“Don’t you try that! I know you! You could have figured something out. You could have seen it coming. You were stupid! You were incompetent! You were careless! You were . . . Just don’t do that again!” Ling exclaimed, still hugging onto Lee’s back. Lee looked over with his head to see Amber just staring at him, her eyes watering.

Yeah, I guess it was difficult for them. After everything they went through in Satterfield, they had to watch as someone they cared about was taken away again. Lee slowly stood up, his Ling hug add-on still installed. He didn’t know why, but he was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t Amber. He shook the feeling off as soon as it manifested and looked over at Miller, but the Firbolg remained silent. He seemed to still be mad. His face was so flushed with blood it matched Lee’s hair, and he seemed to be oblivious to the entire world as he stared ahead, ignoring the horseplay right next to him.

Amber blinked a few times when Lee looked over at her, and she pursed her lips as if she was considering saying something, but she remained silent.

“You okay?” Lee asked, ignoring the angrily huffing Firbolg between them.

“Yeah,” Amber answered, swallowing hard. “I knew you’d be back. I knew you’d be okay. I knew you’d be safe. I knew it even if the others worried because . . . because you had to be. You couldn't leave. You’re the one who will keep us all safe, so you’d have to come back to do it. That’s why I didn’t cry then, and I won’t act relieved now.”

Huh? Lee blinked in confusion. He had no idea what she was talking about or why that was the answer to a simple question. “I just meant that your eyes are watering, and I thought you might have had something in them.”

“I don’t. They aren’t,” Amber said tersely, turning her head away and then doing the most awkward and awful hide-the-tear wipe Lee had seen since his friend Wolfe got dumped in middle school by his first crush right before class started.

“It’s fine. I was pretty torn up and worried about you guys too,” Lee said, walking over and putting an arm around Amber as he talked. “You people are my family, and it was really hard to spend a night without you--especially with the beds they have in prison.”

“I said I was fine!” Amber let out the weakest-willed and softest-voiced shout Lee had heard as a protest. “I said I was fine,” she repeated, even softer than before. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t cry. I didn’t break down. I held it together until you got back. I kept everything you gave me safe. I knew you’d be back.”

“She’s lying. She cried,” Ling said, snitching on their mutual friend as she hopped off Lee’s back and dusted herself off.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be tough. I’m here for you again.” Lee gave Amber a half-hearted smile as the left side of his mouth hooked up slightly. “I’m just so happy to see you again,” he said, reaching out to hug her. She shrank away at first, pulling away from him, but then quickly reversed direction and pressed into him and hooked onto his clothes as she started sobbing.

Miller turned and gave Lee and Amber a look of disgruntled frustration.

Lee wrapped her up in his arms like a snug, miniature burrito, and covered as much of her back as he could while holding her tightly against him and allowing her to cry into his chest. He didn’t understand her reaction at first, but then it slowly dawned on him. She was used to people being taken away from her. Friends and family had been ripped away with no hope of her ever seeing them again. That was the cold truth about her time in captivity and her life in Satterfield before Lee showed up. Her instinct was to put her head down, pretend like nothing was wrong and tolerate or adapt. That way of life in response to the unthinkable had probably been beaten into her harder than Lee could imagine.

“There’s nothing wrong or weak with being sad when someone is taken from you,” Lee said gently, running one of his arms up her back to pat her head as he held her. “It’s natural, and it’s good to get this off your chest. It’s okay,” he said, patting her head again. “It’s okay.”

Amber didn’t say much in return. She just sobbed for a few minutes with Ling standing behind her and then, after collecting herself, she straightened up, dried off her eyes and nose on Lee’s chest armor and then took Lee’s hand in her own.

Yeah, I can see her going a little crazy. Lee glanced over at Ling, remembering what she had said about Amber in her letters. She must have kept all of her emotions bottled up and stacked them all aside for later. Other than tackling him with a hug that lasted longer than the normal friendship hugs allowed, Ling was the only one of the three people in his inner circle who seemed to be collected. Miller was outwardly composed, not bothering to say anything or give anyone a hard time, but it was evident from the expression on his face and his actions earlier that he hadn’t taken Lee’s capture that well either.

Lee felt touched. He had friends in the real world who would show up at the hospital when he got hurt, but none of them had shed tears for him. His family hadn’t even really cried when he had been stabbed and was close to death. With those things in mind, he was saddened by what he had to do. He turned to look back at the other members from Satterfield that had come to the fight, and he couldn’t help but feel a sinking pit in his stomach. They had each shown more emotion than his own family, and they had known him for such a short time.

They actually care about me. They care about me in a way that I haven’t really known before in the other world. Sure, my mom loves me, and my dad loves me, but they don’t even call or visit much, and we barely speak to each other. I went two days without seeing these bastards, and they’re killing me with the emotions. What the hell? They should be used to losing people, so why do they have to do this to me? Lee sighed heavily as he swallowed down the ball of regret.

He knew what he was going to do, and he knew the consequences it would bring. He looked at the group of people who honestly and openly cared about him, and it made him want to call off his plan. He wanted to pack up his bags and go home. His actions and the plan that he had put together and used Connacht’s info to verify would inevitably lead to at least one death. He could lose half or even all of them. Other people would be the ones to deliver the blows, and other people would be the ones to take their lives, but he was the one setting it all in motion. Each step he took toward a potential victory would, without fail, guarantee death. He was the one pulling the proverbial trigger, and everyone else was just the hopeless bullets leaving the gun’s chamber.

Chapter 10

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 23

Health: 330/330

EXP: 5281/25500

Primary Stats:

Power 33 (34)

Toughness 33 (34)

Spirit 33 (34)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 20

Courage 20

Deceit 19

Intelligence 152 (159)

Honor 5

Faith 787

Personal Faith 245

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 7

Sneak Journeyman Level 1

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 2

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 6

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 2

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 3

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

The group managed to make it fifteen miles before the sun cracked across the sky in the morning. They started in the middle of the night, and while their trip was slowed down by constant fights as they hacked up every monster, creature and critter they came across for EXP, but the pace at which they moved between skirmishes was fast enough to make up that difference. The EXP was split in half since the reserves, Miller’s First Order of Lee, would take on half of what was available while Miller, Lee, Amber and Ling took on the other.

Miller had wanted to combine the parties now that Lee was there, but Lee shot down the idea as soon as it popped up. He knew that, while it might help the recruits with experience and teach them to act cohesively, he didn’t want a single unit. He wanted two units. He had learned his lesson about believing that his little four-man posse could take on everything alone, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want the flexibility of having a small elite unit surrounding him. After his conversations with Alexander, he had come to the conclusion that he needed to make use of the extra manpower as much as he could. Before, he would have sent them back to town the second he had been rescued. Now, however, he wanted to take advantage of a small, skilled group of fighters as much as he could.

As Masha’s father had once said over a chess game, ‘Some of the sword is lost during the sharpening, but without the whetstone, the weapon will never serve its purpose.’ He had to accept that, in order to keep the blade sharp and able to cut through his foes and defend Satterfield, he had to grind it. And that would inevitably lead to deaths.

Every decision I make will lead to someone dying though. Lee took in a deep breath and struggled to accept this fact. He had wanted more time to process it all in the other world where he had emotional support from Masha. He wished for more time now so that he could collect his thoughts and steel his nerves, but that had been taken from him. All he could do was press forward, shaky nerves and all.

The group managed to get six hours of rest in the middle of the day. Lee didn’t want to risk building a fire, and they spent half an hour covering thick tarps with fallen leaves so that their little napping spot would be invisible in the woods unless someone came dreadfully close. He was happy to find Amber still snuggled up to him, even with others being able to see them, clinging to him just like she had done the night before. Thankfully, there were no tears this time. It was just a cozy, familiar comfort on a laid-out sleeping roll that felt a million times better than a dirt floor.

They woke up a few hours past noon and then pressed on, each group practicing their formations and strategies every time they came across another group of monsters. Lee spent his time teaching Amber and Ling to flank an enemy's sides. He would rush in first with his shield raised, and then Miller would come in a few feet behind with his spear. The two would isolate and pin down as many melee targets as they could while Amber and Ling fanned out in opposite directions and stayed at range to attack the enemy. The formation was solid against an even number of foes that were significantly weaker than they were, but it only worked well against five or more if Ling and Amber were able to intercept the opponents who broke off and charged before they reached them. No matter how hard Lee tried, he wasn’t able to tie down more than two opponents of his caliber at a time, and Miller was only able to burst-kill one before getting stuck with one himself. It was a limitation to the formation, which Lee called Umbrella Rain.

There was also another issue with the formation: Amber’s range attacks. In a burst of inspiration, Lee had decided to give Amber a new set of daggers when he had realized that glass weapons made excellent disposable tools. The group had crossed a stream with sandy banks, and Lee had taken the opportunity to both collect a ton of extra sand as well as begin making throwing daggers. Amber’s aim was horrible at first, needing nearly three throws to hit a target 10 meters away, but over the course of a day, she managed to reduce that to only one miss every five throws. It was a pretty good rate of improvement for someone who had no experience at all with such weapons, but it came at a price.

In one particular fight, for instance, Lee had been doing his best to hold down two lizard-like humanoids wielding swords when Amber moved in to support him. She had tried to fling four daggers in rapid succession, but she only hit half of what she had been aiming for. The initial two landed in the enemy closest to her, puncturing its side and right thigh. The third one missed and the fourth one, to Amber’s shock, landed squarely in Lee’s left butt-cheek. It was an honest mistake, but that didn’t stop Lee from wanting to curse and yell the moment the dagger struck. He wanted to chew her out for what was, quite literally, the biggest pain in his rear end, but he couldn’t. He was the one who had encouraged her to make the swap to throwing weapons, and she needed the practice. The fact that she was practicing in real combat against live targets spoke to just how necessary it was for her to get better. This was the only way that he could think of to keep her safe without forcibly removing her from the battlefield--something that she would never allow.

Thankfully, by the end of the second day, Amber started to improve. Even Miller, who had kept his distance from both of the girls while they learned the new formation and worked on their maneuvers, decided that he was ready to break his brooding silence and risk coming closer.

“You gonna tell me where we’re headed?” the Firbolg asked.

“Maybe. You gonna tell me what’s been eating you?” Lee returned a question for a question. He didn’t have anything to hold over Miller as a conversational bargaining chip, so he could only hope that Miller’s curiosity was enough to get him to open up. Who would have thought I’d ever want a giant, muscle-covered comic-book-style justice lover to open up about anything? But he did want that. He wanted things to return to the status quo, or what had been status quo before his arrest, as soon as possible.

“Nothing. Nothing is eating me,” Miller responded, his voice dripping with ire. “I’m just wondering why we’re not returning to Satterfield to work on our army so we can kill that Herald. The longer that fiend is alive, the more people he’s going to hurt and the more families he is going to break in two. Nothing is eating me, but he is going to eat a beautiful land and destroy all that is good and holy. We must deliver him to justice, so why are we headed this way when Satterfield is in the opposite direction?”

“You know this Herald, don’t you?” Lee had a hunch that this wasn’t just Miller’s usual vindictive anger. “You’ve met this one before, haven’t you?”

“I . . .” Miller was about to deny it but then just went silent. The quiet persisted for several minutes as they continued to walk, and then he said, “I knew him. I knew him very well.”

“Do you know the god that he serves? Miller, I hate to pry, but any and all information you can spare would be good. If we’re going to defeat him, I need to know it all.” Lee could only assume that vengeance was the proverbial carrot that would get Miller to talk at this point. As much as he hated using it on his friend, he needed all the information he could get.

“He serves Deigha, the Firbolg Goddess of Ice. Since you’re a Herald, you probably already know that there are myriad deities taking part in this skirmish, but unlike most of the gods that players run into, this one is still active. She’s not only active, she’s violent, manipulative and ambitious. She rules over half of my home world with an iron fist, constantly preaching about the superiority of her bloodline since she placed her descendants into the positions of monarchs, feudal lords or nobility in every city across every nation that worshipped her. The purer and closer one’s blood is to hers, the higher up one is on the chain.”

Lee was starting to understand exactly what was going on with this particular goddess as Miller spoke. He said, “And since she’s a Firbolg goddess . . . the nobility and monarchs . . .” He trailed off rather than finish voicing his thoughts.

“Right. They’re all Firbolgs too. They’re all big, over-sized Firbolgs, each and every one of them. It’s a point of pride. They brag about the purity of their blood and how they are above everyone else because they have ‘god’s blood’ running through their veins. It’s what they use to oppress other groups, other people and other races. Races like Humans.” Miller punctuated the end of his sentence with a spit.

Lee couldn’t even normally pick up on subtle cues, and he felt like his Charisma stat was at work when he followed up by saying, “And one of those people they oppressed was someone close to you.”

“My fiancée,” Miller answered with a sullen nod. “She . . . Kate . . . was a Human--one of the frail and tiny ones like you.”

Lee held his protest at the insult in the back of his throat. He knew Miller meant no harm. He probably did look frail and weak to Miller. Everything the giant did resonated with strength and power, but Lee had to think his way around fights. He had to rely more on skill than strength to survive, a point that this world’s Firbolg Herald often seemed to stress about Humans. “How did you end up meeting?” Lee asked, letting his Charisma auto-pilot dictate the conversation rather than try to milk Miller for information right away.

“Funnily enough, she worked at a church,” Miller laughed. “One of the churches my family had set up. Because of my . . . status . . . I had to tour those churches once a week and deliver the good message. I had to talk about how great Deigha was, how powerful her bloodline was and how Deigha’s majesty would protect the town and defeat all of its enemies. Because all of the servants were from the lower races of Farann, this meant that I had to deal with the Humans organizing and laboring away at the events. It was, as I am ashamed to admit, what I used to think of as the worst part of my week.

“That is, until I met her around my nineteenth birthday.” Miller’s pace slowed down and his eyes glazed over. He wasn’t even looking at Lee as he talked at this point: his eyes were staring up and to the right. It seemed like he was looking at some important point in the sky that only he could see as he talked. “She was everything I was told to hate about a Human. Instead of being strong, tall and sturdy, she was short, dainty and fragile. Whereas we were told to be cold and calculative, she was kind and sincere, and she helped everyone around her. She even lacked every semblance of pride or arrogance, taking all scoldings and insults with a smile. Even among the other Humans working at the church, she was like a lone flower trying to stick her head up in a sea of redwoods. But, for some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her no matter how hard I tried.

“Which I did, of course. I tried my best never to look at her since I knew the feeling was wrong. I actually went out of my way to avoid her, and when we had to interact, I would curse her with the worst insults I could think of, only to have her smile back at me with those beautiful, tiny eyes, never failing to maintain her smile as she returned every insult with a compliment, every shout with a pleasant tone. It was infuriating. I ended up going out of my way to think of how to rile her up and anger her, spending each day out of church planning some prank, some mischief, or some clever remark that might upset her.”

“And then you started going out of your way to see her more too, didn’t you?” Lee asked, stifling a chuckle as he thought about a nineteen-year-old lovestruck Miller shouting insults at a pretty girl to show his affection as if he were a five-year-old on the playground.

“Indeed. And it didn’t stop there. I started thinking of ways to see her away from the church too. I’d contact the church and send her out to projects I was conducting. I would work her to the bone on anything I could, from our housing projects to our farms. If anyone needed something from me, I called her as if she were my only Human servant. She was my butler, my maid, my courier, my construction worker . . . I made her do every task I could think of. This lasted for a month or two, but she still refused to complain. If I woke her up in the middle of the night to sweep a road on the other side of the town, she just said, ‘yes,’ ‘please’ and ‘as you wish.’ It was sometime in the middle of the second month of me doing this that I started relying on her.

“I used her so much that she became indispensable to me. I felt endeared to her in a way that all the anger and teachings of a thousand years couldn’t work out of my blood. I would call her to help with a restaurant and then make her sit and eat a meal with me, saying that she had to test the food for poison or make sure that it was up to taste. I would call her to the park to rake up the leaves, claiming they were an eyesore to the good Firbolg people, but then I would ‘accidentally’ bump into her and just happen to be heading the same direction so that we could walk together.

“I realized that I liked her far beyond her cute and adorable gaze and well past those pretty eyes and smile. I liked the way that, unlike anyone in my family or circle of friends, she listened to me. She clung to every word I said as if I were the only person in her universe when I talked to her. Even if we were taught to be cold and calculating, I liked how she would always put aside everything to help out others when no one was watching. I liked how she would draw pictures of places that never existed during her free time, saying that, as long as she could imagine a world, it was every bit as real as it needed to be. I even liked the way she moved when she walked outside on a sunny day . . . It was as if she were doing a slow and cheerful dance.”

“What did you do? How did you make the first move?” Lee asked. “I’m assuming that, with the social structure, she never would.”

“Indeed. She couldn’t. Any member of a subrace caught trying to woo a Firbolg, especially one from the nobility, would find themselves caught and killed quickly.”

“So how did you get around that?”

“It was during a work trip. We were setting up a new warehouse overseas, and I couldn’t find it in myself to be away from her for more than a day, much less the three months that it would take to get everything operational and running for a business. There were plenty of servants in the new town, so everyone expected me to just go there myself, but I complained to my father. I said that I didn't want to waste my time teaching a new servant how I liked to be waited on, and he told me I could go to the church and request her--which I did.

“I didn’t know it at the time, but she was furious about it. She was taking care of her mother, and since I dragged her away from her hometown, it meant that she had to leave her mother in her younger brother’s hands. It actually turned out to be a blessing since it gave him a level of structure and discipline that he didn’t have before, so she did eventually forgive me.”

“And the trip?” Lee asked, cutting off the tangent at the start.

“Ah, yeah. Well, the trip probably wouldn’t have been the last straw if there weren’t complications. On the second night there, when she was bringing me my food at the inn, an ice storm hit that made traveling incredibly dangerous. I could have made her go through the hail and risk her life like so many other nobles would have done in my shoes, but when I saw the fist-sized rocks of ice raining down upon the roads and forcing even the bravest of men inside, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The inn didn’t have any other rooms, so I told her to just stay with me for the night, that she could sleep on the couch . . . except, well, we didn’t sleep. I ended up staying up the entire night talking to her, but this time, I was doing the listening. The more she spoke, the more entranced I became. By the time I regained my senses, it was already nine in the morning. She got up to leave, saying she was going to go fetch breakfast, but when she stood up, still captivated from the night before, I kissed her.

“How did she end up taking it?”

“Poorly,” Miller laughed. “She said she wanted to, but it wasn’t right--that it wasn’t proper--and rushed out the door. The rest of that week, of that month, was spent with me chasing her. I had to have her; I had to be with her. I ate every meal in my room so that we could be together as a couple without people judging me for being a nobleman talking to a Human. I had her carry little things so we could walk together through parks and down scenic routes without it looking like it was a date. It was magical, and it came with a feeling I didn’t think I’d ever experience before I met her.”

“Was it only noblemen who didn’t eat with Humans? Did other Firbolgs?”

“Yeah, others did. The poor especially associated with Humans. There were always mixed-race children sprouting out of the woodwork, but no one paid them any heed. They were considered just above Humans, but both the proper Firbolgs and most Humans rejected them, so that small social boost didn’t do them any good.”

“I see. So, what happened next?” Lee asked.

“Well, nothing happened next. It just continued on and on with her returning my affections more each day and me being less able to stand being away from her. By the time the business trip ended, I just had my father schedule me another one. We spent the next four years together that way,” Miller said, smiling fondly at the memory. “Then, against her better judgment, I got her to agree to marry me.”

“That . . .” Lee gulped. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”

“It should have been. It was the happiest day of my life. I called my father to tell him the news, and I thought he’d be furious and throw me out. I was prepared to work a decade to get him to accept her, but all he did was tell me that he couldn’t be happier for me. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe my ears. He insisted that I bring her home for the holidays so that he could meet her. I had to make sure that he knew she was a Human over the call, but he said it didn’t matter, that he would love her as a daughter no matter what. She was even more surprised than I was when I told her what he had said. To this day, I can still remember the dance that she did-- a cute little peppy step while singing about how happy she was.

“I can still . . .” Miller paused, swallowing so hard that Lee could hear the saliva squeeze down his throat. He looked over at his big friend to see his eyes red, watering and bloodshot and decided to not push the story further and let him finish at his own pace.

A minute later, Miller picked the story back up. “She was beautiful and happy and foolish. We both were. While we were planning the vacation home from our latest work trip, my father had called the church and notified Deigha’s high priest of everything. When we got home, we had no idea. We drank to our heart’s content, everyone was nice to us, and it seemed like the perfect day. My soon-to-be-wife was nearly crying from happiness since my family’s acceptance was her biggest concern. It was the largest potential roadblock in our life, and she had spent more than two weeks pacing nervously, thinking about how to handle everything if one of my parents didn’t like her. I didn’t know at the time why she was worried. To me, there was no way anyone wouldn’t love her.

“But, when the night ended, I found myself feeling more tired than normal. So, like a dunce, I went to bed early. They had put a sleeping pill in my drink, knocking me out so hard that I didn’t even notice as they wrenched Kate from the bed. They didn’t even bother shutting the door or silencing her or making it quiet. They . . .”

Miller paused again, this time stopping physically as well as verbally. Lee didn’t know how long the two girls behind him had been listening, but they stopped too, and Lee could see their eyes glued to Miller as they waited for him to continue.

“And . . . And her screams managed to wake me up despite the pill.” Miller’s cheeks flushed red, and Lee could see the anger in him as he talked about it. “I could hear them, and I came down, and it was the first time I felt the power of justice’s call surge through me. I don’t regret what I did. I don’t regret ripping my brother’s life from his limp body. I only lament that I couldn’t kill my father too. I regret that, as I was killing them . . . as I was tearing apart my closest blood relatives for what they had done to Kate, that I couldn’t drag that wench to my home and shatter her too.”

“The goddess?” Lee asked, clarifying the ‘her.’

“Yes, the goddess. When my father had called the church to tell them what had happened, she had devised the plan for my family. She had set the whole thing up and even told them what sleeping pill to use so that I would still wake to see it. She told them to make sure my woman screamed because the anger and hate would wake up my divine blood. This was all a blessing to them. To them, this was supposed to be the night I was baptized as her Herald after my anger ignited the blood.”

“Wait, isn’t she the Goddess of Ice? Why would anger trigger that?” Lee asked curiously.

“She is the Goddess of Ice, and she preaches that everyone should be cold and calculating, that they should strategize and think above all else, but that isn’t her nature. That’s just the nature our goddess wishes was hers. I didn’t know it at the time, but as I studied my enemy, I learned that she is the Goddess of Ice and Hate, and to access her powers, one needs a hate so deep that he can freeze his own heart forever. Nothing can remain but hatred. This is her nature. The Goddess of Grudges is a more apt description.”

“That’s . . .” Ironic. Lee kept the musing to himself, but he couldn’t help from pondering it over. She is the Goddess of Grudges, and the person she wanted to baptize as a Herald only has a grudge against her. “Terrible,” he finished aloud, deciding on a word that was tactful instead. He had somewhat hoped that his Charisma would take over again and sort out his diction, but it didn’t, so he grabbed the first word that didn’t sound like the emotion it really invoked, pity, and threw it out in his place. “I can’t believe she would do that.”

“I couldn’t either. Nor could I believe that my family would. They were going to use some other event to trigger my hatred, but when they saw I was with a Human, they only saw an opportunity. They claimed that she was just a bloodline whore and that death was the best gift they could give her for her crimes. If they had known the real Kate, those words would have never left their mouths. If they had taken a chance and truly gotten to know her, none of that would have happened. Even if Deigha ordered them to kill her a hundred times and begged for them to do it, no one that knew her would be able to do it.”

She does sound amazing, Lee thought, turning his head a moment to meet eyes with Ling and then Amber. Ling seemed to just be depressed now, but Amber was as teary-eyed as Miller. She had overheard the whole story and taken it to heart, and it reminded Lee that she had a sort of empathy that was rare and needed to be treasured in a friend.

“But if you’re not her Herald, how did you get here?” Lee asked.

“I signed up for the games, of course,” Miller answered with a sigh. “Even if I wasn’t first on the list for the player slots, our world was one of the god-aware ones, and it had the first draft for the game. I was in the 150s when the games were announced, and it took me half a year to kill my way up to the top 10. Deigha was furious, but per the rules, she couldn’t do anything to me outside or inside of the game once my name was on the list.”

“And . . . you wanted to come to the game? To do what? Kill her Herald and make sure she doesn’t win? Will that be enough?” Lee asked. “Is there a way to follow you after the games to your world and help you deal with her there?”

Miller stopped again in his tracks. “Lee, do you not know what happens to a god if the Herald dies?”

“They lose the game?”

“The god dies, Lee. The god dies with the Herald. This isn’t just a game of survival for the Heralds: it’s a game to determine which gods are allowed to exist for the next dozen millennia. Only one can be chosen unless all of the world stone fragments are found and even then, only two may live.”

Lee gulped. This was a bombshell of information that he hadn’t expected.

“Yeah, sorry I forgot to mention that,” Augustus chimed in inside his head.

If I die, he dies. These words repeated in Lee’s head several times as he processed what was being said. The arrogant shapeshifter had been a complete jerk to him from the moment he had met him, save a few redeemable moments of comradery that didn’t even nearly make up for the other smart-aleck jabs Augustus threw at Lee whenever the opportunity arose. The broad implication was that Lee had killed a god when he took the life of the Herald of Storytelling, and it put things in perspective as to why Augustus was treating him the way he did. He had lived thousands of years, and his behavior was likely picked to best nurture Lee and increase his odds of winning. When he had rescued Lee, he didn’t do it just for Lee, he did it for himself too. If Lee had died in that slave barracks by Satterfield, Augustus would have died along with him.

“You didn’t know?” Miller asked, his face as blank and confused as Lee’s was stunned.

“I didn’t,” Lee answered morosely.

“Does . . . does that mean that, if Lee dies, the people Augustus is taking care of in the other world won’t be okay?” Amber injected herself into the conversation. “If Lee dies, does that mean David and the others who have gone before us will suffer in the afterlife?”

What afterlife? You mean that story I stole and spun from an actual religion just to comfort the grieving people of Satterfield so they wouldn’t feel as awful about the deaths of their loved ones?

“Even if Augustus perishes, the land he sends his people to shouldn’t,” Lee answered, leaving some ambiguity at the end of the sentence. He wanted to sound like an expert on the subject, but a part of his brain was still calculating the ramifications of what each stance would mean and which would be better for the society as a whole.

If he were to strictly proceed based on which part would be better for him, he would have immediately denied the possibility that an afterlife could exist without Augustus. It would have created an incentive for his people to protect him at all costs; but, even with the sacrifices he was planning on making, he couldn’t justify his or Augustus’s life as being worth more than any other from among the people of this world. They might have just been NPCs to players like Miller, but to Lee, they were just as real as he was--and that meant that their lives were just as important as his own. The only difference was that he needed to stay in control to make sure that as many as possible reached tomorrow. That was a mentality he had to have, and it was quintessential to being a good leader. That’s also why he couldn’t commit to the other answer entirely either. He might need to use religion to entice people to keep him alive just the same in a future conflict, lest his absence create an even larger problem for them.

I can’t believe you left this detail out! Lee cursed at Augustus in his head. How could you not mention that?!

“It felt like a need-to-know basis thing,” Augustus answered, and Lee could almost hear him shrugging through the psychic communication. “You didn’t need to know, so why bother telling you?”

How did I not need to know? I’ve been gambling with more than just my life here, and you never thought to tell me?

“Aww . . .” the god replied condescendingly, and his smirk was almost visible in his words. “Don’t tell me that you’re now more worried about dying because it might get little old me killed.”

That’s not what this is about, and you know it. So, spill it! Why the hell did you keep it a secret?

“I had reasons, and I don’t need to explain them to you,” he growled, swapping from mocking to irritated almost instantly. I don’t even need to justify anything to you since you’re going to do what’s best to stay alive whether I say anything or not, so stop being dramatic. The true God forbid, I just wanted to put a little less pressure on you when you arrived in this world. I swear, ungrateful humans are a commodity that never runs short.”

Whatever, Lee harrumphed in his head.

“So, this goddess . . .” Lee tried to change the topic back to the important details. “Do you know her Herald?”

“Yeah, I know him. I’ve met him. When Kate died, I promised myself that I would avenge her. I promised a debt of blood that I have been paying back one sanguine corpse at a time to the Goddess of Justice that looks after me. This one, though . . .” Miller sighed. “This one defeated me. It wasn’t an honorable battle. I was stabbed in the back, but it was a loss all the same. When I first arrived in this world, I trained non-stop. I spent a month and a half building up my skills amongst the evil creatures of this world until I caught word of where the Herald I was destined to kill resided. When I burst through his palace and tried to kill him, however, he had a hundred bowman shoot me down before I could come within ten feet of him. I never even so much as got a chance to swing my spear in his direction before I was face down on the ground. Dead. It was a brutal death, and per the rules of the game, it sent me back to square one. I could have opted to just have my body warped to the next game’s beginning and start over as some players choose to do if they die during the first three months of this realm, but I stayed because he was still here.

“I ended up in Satterfield after that, and you know the rest. I can’t offer much information on this Herald, only that he is every bit as conniving and meticulously detail-oriented as his goddess claims she is. Several challengers have come before him, and each one is picked off in the shadows. Even when he was taking over the city, he never fought his fights fairly. He poisoned his opponents with drugs that would hinder their combat ability, kidnapped the tougher ones and held some of their families hostage. That’s how he fights, and he’s very good at it. I think I could win if I fought him now, but I have no way of saying for certain. He will surely wield the powers of cold and the strength of hate as is the bloodline’s gift, but I don’t know what other abilities he has.

“Do you know him personally?” Lee asked. If Deigha’s Heralds were all picked from her bloodline, and her bloodline was all given royalty, there was a chance that Miller might have run into him at some noble ball.

“Yeah, this one I do. He’s my first cousin from my father’s side. He was a childhood playmate even though his rank was higher than mine on the family tree.”

“What about personal details? Something I might be able to use?” Lee inquired. He didn’t know what to expect, but being able to set a trap that the Herald wasn’t expecting might be helpful.

“I don’t know if it will aid you since you also have that type of rat-like, scheming brain as he does, but I could tell you that he hates action movies and likes to watch romance. He spends most of his time reading books, but he never reads the same one twice. I don’t know anything else. He was my cousin, not my brother.”

Mmm . . . Lee thought to himself. He’s likely to hole himself in his patron’s library then. At least I know where to find him if I ever need to track him down. “Thank you. I’m sorry for bringing this up. I know it must be difficult to rehash.”

“For Augustus,” Miller said, and then the four of them left it at that. Lee knew Amber wasn’t happy dropping it there and that she would have a million questions, but they had slowed down for several minutes and needed to pick the pace back up again if they were going to remain on schedule.

With that, the four of them and their band of merry men traveled a few more hours until Miller smacked Lee on the shoulder. “Hey, you forgot to tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Lee asked, confused.

“Where we’re going. That was the deal,” Miller said.

Oh, yeah. That was the deal. Lee laughed to himself. He had completely forgotten about the fact he had agreed to tell Miller some of his plan after hearing the Firbolg’s sad story. “Well, from the intel I’ve gathered through Connacht, we should be coming up on a rival town’s military expedition shortly. They have four armies, and this one is coming dangerously close to Kirshtein. Apparently, from what Connacht has told me, they make this patrol with their eastern forces regularly. This unit makes up roughly a third of their active forces and circles by this side of the city once every four months. We actually lucked out that they’re this close to Kirshtein since normally we’d have to travel much farther.”

“And . . . why are we on our way to this group?” Amber asked. Instead of simply hanging behind like she did previously, she was now holding Lee’s hand again just like she had often done when walking through towns.

“Because we need to find their messenger and make sure they get the right letter, of course,” Lee explained, pulling out a blank piece of paper. “Their messenger will always come to the town carrying mail from their city some time after the sun sets, so we need to intercept him as soon as possible.”

Amber grabbed the paper from Lee’s hands and studied it, turning it over a few times as she tried to puzzle out the deeper secret she was sure it was holding. “I’m lost. You want to deliver some blank piece of paper? Is there a point to that?”

Lee smiled. “Actually, it’s not done yet. That’s why I brought this.” He pulled out an inkwell too. “It’ll be a completed letter when we get there. I’m just missing something at the moment.”

Amber nodded and then pursed her lips before adding, “Well, I’ll leave you to it, but you’re not going to be doing anything shady, are you? Like you did in town at those bars?”

“Shady?” Ling looked over at Amber. “What did he do that was shady?”

“He gave credit where credit wasn’t due,” Amber answered without explaining it all the way. Lee almost laughed out loud as he felt all three of his golems nod their head in agreement with Amber’s statement.

“Oh.” Ling frowned as she gave Lee a contemplative gaze. “Did you try to take credit for anything in particular?”

“No, it was the opposite,” Amber clarified a little while keeping her answer vague.

“That makes sense,” Miller chimed in, joining the conversation and smacking Lee’s back. “This one has never been good at anything but modesty.”

“You really don’t need to put it like that,” Lee laughed. “I’d like to think I have a ton of good qualities.”

“Indeed, little man. That’s the spirit. Don’t let the bad hand you were dealt get you down,” Miller said with a hearty laugh, causing the two girls to also join in with giggles of their own.

Lee just sighed. “I guess . . . since I’m not good at it, I won’t be making any beer or alcohols tonight.”

Miller’s eyes shot open. “WHAT?!”

“No reason in doing something you’re not good at,” Lee said. “Since you don’t like my drinks, I’ll just have to refrain from making them.”

“Never! You must never stop making them! I will hear none of this blasphemy! As the very son of the God of Alcohol and Crafts, you must work tirelessly to master both beverage and food in his name, or you will bring shame upon your heritage!”

“Nah, I think I’ll just give up. I’m not good at it,” Lee taunted, having way too much fun watching his friend panic.

“That won’t do!” Miller insisted.

“Actually,” he replied, giving his friend a moment of hope, “maybe you’re right. Since I’m not good, I will need practice.”

“That’s right. That’s the way to think.” Miller nodded, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll simply have to drink it all myself though since it wouldn’t be just or fair to share a bad product with others,” Lee added as soon as Miller looked relaxed, causing the Firbolg to fluster up again in indignation.

“No! How will you know when you’ve gotten better if others aren’t there to taste test?!” Miller protested once more.

“Oh, that’s right. I will need taste testers.” Lee scratched his head and pretended to contemplate it. “Where will I get them?”

“Of course--” Miller started to speak but was cut off by Amber right away.

“I’ll take that bullet for you, Miller. No reason to volunteer. I’ll be the taste tester on all your future batches, Lee.” Amber smiled and squeezed Lee’s hand as she looked up into his eyes with a mischievous and knowing look written across her face.

I thought you weren’t a fan of me playing the cunning crook!

“No, a lady should never have to suffer the indignities of trying a bitter beer. I’ll take that burden on solely for myself,” Miller said proudly, an air of nobility circling around him as he looked up at the sky. “I will not allow an injustice like that to occur even if it requires me to sacrifice myself.”

“Aww . . . But Lee treasures your friendship too much!” Ling said. “Can’t you tell? He wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing bad beers with you. I’ll just help Amber out, and between the two of us, we should be more than able to handle this challenge.” She gave Lee a sly wink as she latched on to his other free arm before flashing Miller an innocent smile. “I would never want anything to come between such close friends.”

“Friendship isn’t as important as duty or honor. I must drink these beers in your place,” Miller insisted once more, finishing the sentence with a loud ‘hmph’ sound.

“If my beers are bad, I can’t have you drink them. Sorry, Miller, end of discussion. A man has to have a little pride in his work,” Lee finished, killing Miller’s last hope of getting out of his sobering predicament.

Miller about-faced much faster than Lee anticipated. “That’s . . . I admit I was wrong. I have erred in judgment and seek forgiveness. Please do not cut me off from the holy fountain of magical beer, the beautiful drink of Augustus.”

“Ah. Well, if you say it like that . . .” Lee left the sentence hanging with an unsaid-yet-understood ‘the answer is a maybe’ feeling.

“I do! You are very talented, amazing and incredible, and I was wrong to doubt you.” Miller’s continued piling on the praises one after the other, causing Lee to laugh as he watched his friend acting like a kid who had their video game privileges taken away.

“Alright, alright, fine.” Lee just shook his head. His friend was so easy to mess with that it almost wasn’t fun . . . almost. “It looks like we’re here anyway, so”--Lee turned around to his crew and put a finger over his mouth--“we all go quiet after this. No words need to be shared. What I’m going to need to happen is this: you guys”--Lee pointed at three of the archers one by one--“will follow up as our back up. I trust you’ve learned how to sneak around well enough, and your armor is the perfect shade for this vegetation.”

“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.

“Your goal is simple. We’re going to be exchanging something with someone, not killing him, and you’re going to trail us by twenty feet. If you see someone sneaking up and about to spot us, you take him out quickly and silently. Don’t let a single one of them make a sound. We want our target to be absolutely unaware of our presence.”

“Yes, sir,” they once more consented in perfect harmony.

“Excellent. Now, Miller, I’m going to need you to do something equally important,” Lee said. “I’m going to need you to not kill our enemy the second he appears. I know that’s going to be rather difficult for you, but I have faith. What you’re going to do is restrain him to the best of your abilities. Get a hand over his mouth as soon as possible. Ling, you keep an arrow ready for his mouth if Miller fails. Amber, you assist Miller in the capture.”

“We aren’t killing our enemy?” Miller blinked. “How is that justice?”

“He’s not really our enemy. He’s our friend; he just doesn’t know it yet,” Lee responded, shrugging off Miller’s response. It was clear, even from Miller’s story, that he had a one-track mind with only one method of solving problems: violence. “He’s going to be how we will defeat that Herald and kill that goddess you hate, so show him the respect of leaving him alive.”

Miller’s eyes went wide, and his pupils dilated as Lee mentioned killing the goddess. “Are you sure that it can be done so quickly? I think we should be training, preparing for battle. If we grow stronger, victory will be assured. We need to harden our troops, double our efforts, build an army and march against his town.” Miller had a fire in his eyes that Lee hadn’t seen since they first set out to burn alive the guards that were holding the people of Satterfield captive.

“Yeah, it can be done. I will get you your vengeance,” Lee said resolutely. “I will get the people of Kirshtein their freedom and their lives back. Even the Firbolgs who don’t know they need rescuing too.”

“I don’t think the Firbolgs are the ones that need help. They seem to have a pretty good grasp on how to be evil there,” Amber added.

“No, they have a pretty good grasp on how to be afraid and controlled. They’re being danced like puppets, and if we don’t help them, they’ll never know happiness either,” Lee sighed. You just can’t treat another person like they do, and it not take a toll on you too.

“As long as the Herald dies, as long as the goddess dies, then the rest of the details don’t matter,” Miller said. “I want to rend that bastard in two. I want him to die a slow and painful death with her watching . . . with her suffering the way I have for all these years.”

Yup, definitely more on the vengeance than justice side of things. Lee thought it but didn’t say anything. “Well, just make sure we don’t kill this messenger and try not to injure him if you can help it. Pin him as quickly as you can.”

Miller nodded. “I can do that.”

“Alright then,” Lee finished, moving forward. “You’ve all got your orders. Let’s go. Follow me closely. I’ll lead the way.”

“Are you going to use Ethan to scout for us?” Amber asked in a whisper low enough that the three Paladin archers behind them couldn’t hear.

“Yeah. I’ve got two of them scouting as we speak, and I’m leaving one behind with the others just in case something happens so that we can get back to help them if there is an emergency,” Lee answered.

-----

Lee couldn’t help but both marvel and tremble at the size of the army’s camp once they were in sight. Tents were lined up in row after row with in such numbers that he couldn’t even begin to count them. He had no idea how soldiers and scouts could report accurate numbers of enemy troops with such easy. He may have been able to pick up ten, twenty or even a hundred at a glance, but this was in the thousands, and there was no way that he could even fathom the size of it, much less count it after a single look.

They made it around the outside of the camp unnoticed, which was a good thing. If a single enemy scout or spotter had gone missing, it would set the army on alert. That was a worst-case scenario. The last thing he wanted to deal with the enemy doubting their intel and being on guard. When they reached the gate that Lee assumed was the most likely one for the messenger to come through, he had his mice fan out and look for the messenger. It wasn’t sundown yet, so they still had plenty of time--time that Miller wanted to spend leveling--but Lee knew that this should take priority.

Lee spotted the messenger moments later, making his way toward him on a unique mount. He knew that both horses and other mounts existed in this world, but this was different from anything he had expected. It was a large, six-legged mammal with a wide rib cage and a naturally-hard, gray, bony exterior on top of its body that didn’t blend well with the brown fur that covered the rest of it. Its stubby head protruded forward like a turtle, and its neck was so large that it blended into its shoulders. Its six feet were strangely jointed, looked as if they had much more flexibility than most mammals and were capped with hooves.

There were two depressions in its armored, tortoise-shell-like back that functioned as seats, although only one was currently occupied. The rear seat was empty except for a set of bags.

The thing was moving so fast that Lee was afraid he might not have a chance to properly intercept it, but before he could give an order to Ling or the archers that they would need to take it down, his thoughts and plans were interrupted by a large status window.

Your mastery of Sneak has progressed from the rank of Journeyman Level 1 to the rank of Journeyman Level 2. This skill improves one’s ability to stay hidden, move silently and act undetected.

Heraldic Skill Bonus: Sneaky Old Space Wizard. Due to your growing mastery of Sneak and status as a Herald, you have gained the skill add-on Sneaky Old Space Wizard. You are now able to magically create distractions to help you sneak into more places. Like an old space wizard sneaking around a weapon of planetary destruction, you can throw your voice and create other distracting sounds that seem to come from any origin within 30 feet of your location.

Due to improving Sneak, you have received +1 Intelligence. Current Intelligence: 160.

Perfect. Lee grinned as he read the new bonus. It didn’t fit with what he considered Sneak’s purview since it called attention to him rather than misdirecting it, but this was exactly what he needed. The ability to create a voice from anywhere within thirty feet would stop the messenger in its tracks. The only thing he needed to do was make sure he acted quickly enough.

“Ling, I’m going to try to get this guy by myself,” Lee said as the group crouched in the thick brush surrounding the military’s encampment. “Follow me. If I fail, I need you to snipe him off the mount before he gets close to the army. If they see him, our plan fails.”

“Got it,” Ling answered in a whisper.

“If her arrows miss, my spear won’t,” Miller added assuredly.

“Even so, I need you to wait here with the others. You’ll just have to be our last line of defense,” Lee said, feeling confident since he now had two backup plans.

With that, Lee snaked through the brush straight toward the mounted courier. He tested out the skill a few times as he went, projecting a voice that was barely louder than a whisper from different locations in order to make sure he wouldn’t mess the skill up when it was time. It felt strange to use as, unlike his other magic-related skills, this one didn’t require him to channel any of his mana. Rather, it just required him to think the phrase or sound he wanted to say first, just imagine where he was casting the sound from and will it so.

Lee made his move when the messenger was between thirty and fifty feet away. He started off with the voice casting, shouting, “Hey! Wait up!” behind the messenger, causing the flustered Leprechaun to turn his head and look over for who was shouting behind him. He didn’t slow his pace much, maybe halfing it, but it was enough. Lee shouted one more time with the sneaky ventriloquism as he had the metal-covered Ethan take to the air and shoot toward the man.

“Who’s there?” the man asked, turning around in every direction to see who kept calling to him. It was too late for him by the time he turned forward again. The mouse pinned itself across his mouth and restricted his airflow, digging its claws into the sides of his face and latching on firmly. The messenger tried to scream, but the metal mouse made it impossible.

The Leprechaun let go of the reins, trying to pull the golem from his face, and Lee used the athletic abilities his levels had given him to jump up and tackle the man off his mount. It wasn’t the most graceful maneuver, but Lee hit him squarely in the chest. Both bounced down the mount and awkwardly rolled off the creature and onto the ground. Lee grabbed ahold of the courier’s arms and tried to pin him to the ground with one arm while pulling a blade with his other. A moment later, he was pressing the sword against the messenger’s neck. Sensing that it had lost its passenger, the mount came to a stop a short distance away, patiently waiting for its rider to return.

“Quiet! If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Lee growled in the coldest, most villainy voice that he could muster. “I’m keeping you alive because I don’t need to kill you, so here’s what you’re going to do: you’re going to stop moving, stop fidgeting, stay deathly quiet and listen to every word I say. If you so much as drop a bead of sweat I don’t like, I’ll slit your throat right here. Nod if you understand.” He knew that he shouldn’t enjoy this since he was basically threatening to kill a man, but it felt like he was the badass ninja-like spy in an action thriller.

The Leprechaun nodded as his mount started walking over to them slowly.

“Great. Now, here’s what’s going to happen,” Lee said, letting the golem unlatch from the man’s mouth and sending it to fetch Miller and the others. “First, I’m going to have you strip down. You’re about my size, so I’ll be needing your armor. The next thing that’s going to happen is I’m going to take your . . .” Lee looked over at the mount, signaling to it with a nod of his head. “I’m going to take that thing, whatever it’s called, and I’m going to ride off for a bit. If you stay here and keep your mouth shut, I’ll deliver both of them back to you. Nod again if you understand and twice if you understand and agree.”

The man quickly nodded twice but didn’t say anything. “Good. Now, just wait a minute before I let you up. Then you undress to your skivvies.”

The wait didn’t take long. Miller arrived a moment later, and he was all too happy to keep the man pinned at spear point.

The stolen uniform was rather refined. Very closely matching one of a Roman legionnaire, it consisted of a metal cuirass with baltea straps hanging down from a cloth tunic underneath it. The only real difference was that there weren’t sandals to go with it. Instead, he had proper leather boots that matched the color of the tunic: white with gold trim. The best part about the outfit--at least for Lee, anyway--was that it came equipped with a gladius, shield and pilum as if it really were straight out of a Roman legion. If he were in the real world, he would have absolutely celebrated this moment to cosplay as a soldier from one of the greatest military forces of its time. Now, however, he was worried that the army would be far more sophisticated and efficient than he hoped. The better this army was, the worse it was for Lee.

“I like the look,” Amber commented as she eyed Lee up and down. “You look very handsome.”

“Mmmhmm . . .” Ling didn’t say anything but gave a slow up and down with her eyes as she added her approval.

“I kinda like it too, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to any outfit with a skirt,” Lee laughed, stretching his legs a little and enjoying the breeze.

“Nonsense. A good battle skirt is exactly what a true man needs!” Miller said as he looked Lee over. “It doesn’t stifle you, locking away your pride in a dungeon of clothes.”

“Then why don’t you wear one?” Lee looked over at him. “I mean, if it’s so important to a man.”

“Because . . .” Miller thought about it for a minute as he looked at Lee. “Because a man must also endure hardships.”

Lee laughed as he shook his head. “You’re something else, Miller,” he added. He felt like in the last day or two, especially after hearing Miller’s story, the Firbolg had lightened up a lot, and he and Lee were much closer. Before, Miller seemed like he was just a die-hard justice freak who dragged Lee from battle to battle, but now, there were tones of his personality and humor popping through in a way that Lee couldn’t help but appreciate.

“Alright. So, what’s next?” Amber asked. “You gonna deliver that piece of paper already?”

“Not yet. There’s one more thing I need.” Lee walked over to the mount and opened up the mail satchel. It took several minutes, but he eventually found the one letter in the entire stack that had a wax seal on it. “Excellent. This should do it.”

Once the letter was in his hand, he used his crafting power to separate the wax seal from the letter, keeping it perfectly intact, before opening it up and examining its the contents. The writing was neat, done in what looked like a traditional blackletter font. After committing it all to memory and making sure he understood exactly how the person had written each letter, he gave the text a final scan.

General Brigid of Kildare,

No additional orders from His Majesty. Maintain patrol route.

Lord General Mogue

It was such a short and neat letter with no wasted words. The signature at the bottom had a stamp next to it as well. The mark next to the general’s name had the picture of a dragon with its wings spread out circled by a wreath of flames. Dragons, huh? This couldn’t be more perfect. Lee smiled as he looked at the messenger.

Lee took the blank paper and the inkwell and began to channel his power into it. The process was much quicker than it had been with other skills, like metal or glass working, but he was still able to fuse the ink onto the paper without any difficulty at all. He copied the pattern of the letters and created a nearly-perfect forgery of Lord General Mogue’s handwriting, even going so far as to copy the stamp next to his name. In less than a minute, he had a new, completely different letter that contained exactly what he wanted, and it was a perfect forgery. He then stuffed the letter into the envelope and slowly melted the seal back into place using the same process. With that, the falsification was complete, and he now had everything he needed.

“So, this is just like a horse?” Lee asked his group as he hopped up onto the messenger’s mount.

“Yeah, except it’s a lot rougher of a ride, especially since you’re wearing a skirt,” Amber laughed. “Have fun with that.”

Lee frowned, and as he climbed onto the built-in saddle, he felt exactly what she was talking about. Even though the man had laid out a soft pad, the rock-hard plating of the creature’s skin was so rough and angled that it was incredibly uncomfortable. To make matters worse, the ride was so bumpy when the creature started moving that Lee quickly became worried he might never have children. He was certain that this was indeed a method of travel built for women only, and he couldn’t help but feel a great deal of pity for the poor messenger who had been forced to ride great distances on this thing’s back.

All the same, it didn’t take long for him to arrive at the camp. The two guards posted at the gate gave an odd fist-over-heart salute and then gestured for him to come to the side rather than passing directly through the gate.

“Evening, Scout Captain,” the guard on the left said. “I’ll watch over your Krunklerump for you and distribute the mail. The general has requested that the next messenger head to her immediately, so don’t worry about stabling the beast.”

Scout Captain? That’s my rank? Lee returned their salute, and he was happy for the fact that the uniform he had taken was of sufficient rank to afford enter and leave without question. Lee hesitated, not knowing the other man’s rank and wanting to avoid a faux pas by using the wrong term. He would have just said ‘sir,’ but then he remembered that military personnel only used the word ‘sir’ to close sentences when talking to a superior--at least in the movies he had seen, anyway. That wasn’t the case when a superior spoke to a subordinate, so he held his tongue and simply rushed out an agreement instead. “I’m on my way.”

“Very good, Scout Captain.”

Wait, where is she? Lee couldn’t tell one set of tents from another, and there were thousands. “She’s in the usual spot, right?” Lee asked, looking off to the right.

The guard grabbing the reins of the Krunklerump shot Lee a confused look as he followed Lee’s eyes. “Yes, it’s in the usual spot. Right down there.” He pointed out a direction. “Four rows from the western mess tent.”

“Thank you.” Lee nodded at him and took off. Every moment he stayed was another that he might mess up and blow his cover. He had no background knowledge of their military customs, but those were likely strict. If the guards grew suspicious, he’d be in trouble. The mistakes he had made just then were likely written off because he held an apparently superior rank. No one wanted to correct their boss in his world, and the same seemed to hold true in this one as well.

Once he found the right block of tents, the general’s stood out like a sore thumb since it was the only purple tent in a sea of white cloth. Lee stopped and stood outside for a minute, hoping to collect both his thoughts and his breath. Even though the flap to the tent was firmly closed and heavy enough that no one would be able to see through, a voice called out to him from the inside almost immediately.

“You gonna come in or stand there all day waiting for precise orders?” a woman’s voice asked impatiently.

“Coming. Sorry, General.” He took a stab at the owner’s identity since it wasn’t likely that there were many women besides the general in a military camp.

Lee opened the flap and walked in to find a gorgeous woman seated in a wooden chair with a book open in front of her. She was wearing a white dress that was trimmed in gold that matched the tunic Lee had taken from the scout. Her lanky Leprechaun arms and narrow figure gave her the appearance of an elf from one of the earlier fantasy movies of his time, and if she had pointy ears, he actually would have taken her for one.

“A Human,” she noted as she turned the page. “I suppose even Humans can climb the ranks in our military if they work hard enough. You should be proud: you’re a testament to your people.” She took out a bookmark and saved her spot before setting the book down.

“Thank you, General. Your words honor me,” Lee responded as a true sycophant would.

“I’m honestly surprised. Don’t your kind lean more toward banking and usury? How did a Human like yourself make it into the military when our city could always use more traders?” Even if her comments were insulting, which they likely were, Lee ate them up. Each slur or stereotype was a chance for him to learn more about this world and to better understand what did or didn’t match with this reality. If he was going to be a spy again or work his way into their society for devious purposes in the future, he needed to know everything about their culture.

“I wouldn’t know, General,” he replied, keeping his answer as short as possible.

“You wouldn’t? No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” She gave him a weak smile. “Your kind is only clever when it suits them and stupid when it suits anyone else. But at least you’re better looking than any of the other Humans I’ve met.”

“Thank you, General. I’m glad my looks please you.”

“Indeed.” She put a finger over her mouth as she stood up and walked over to him. “A Scout Captain that lingers for compliments before delivering the capital’s report. Interesting.”

Lee panicked for a moment, and it took him a bit of effort to control his heart beat so he wouldn’t give away his identity. “As you say, General.” He pulled out the letter and presented it using both hands and with a slight bow of his head.

She accepted it but with a wry smile.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she chuckled. “I’ll have to thank your superior for sending me entertainment with the letter.”

“I shall be sure to pass that message on, General.”

“No, don’t,” she said dryly. “I was only kidding.”

“As you say.” Lee bowed his head again. He wasn’t sure why he was falling back to a tradition palette that included extra honorifics and heavy amounts of bowing, but since it hadn’t killed him yet, he saw no harm in keeping it up.

“No.” She stopped him as she opened the letter. “You’re not dismissed. I’ll need to draft the reply, and you’ll need to wait for me to give it to you.”

“Ah.” Lee felt like an idiot. The messenger carries mail both ways. How could I be so dense? “Of course, General. I was only going to step outside so you could read in privacy.”

“There’s no need for that. We all serve the same cause,” she declared boldly, pulling a sword out from behind her chair and setting it on the table next to her book. She removed the wax seal, opened the envelope and removed the letter without ever looking away from Lee.

Does she suspect me? He looked at the sword and then back at her. Of course she suspects me. I’m being an idiot and saying stupid things. I have no idea how I’m supposed to act or what I’m supposed to say. Lee waited, studying her every movement as he prepared the fastest escape routes in his head. After pulling out the letter, however, she let out a breath of air, and he almost sighed in relief along with her. The only thing that stopped him was that he didn’t want to cause any more damage or draw any more attention to himself.

The letter was much longer than the one that Lee had used for the basis of the font, and the general read and re-read it several times before setting it down on top of her book. “It seems that you are not the bringer of good news.”

“My apologies, General.”

“No need. It’s not your fault. You’re just the dog playing fetch.” She waved her hand at the letter. “No, it’s the bastard behind this letter.”

“Your pardon, General. I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Humans only understand when it suits them, and this letter suits no one. Either way, give me a moment. I’ll have your reply shortly.”

“You’re too kind, General.”

“So, you keep saying,” she sighed. “Although what I’m about to do is far from kind.”

“This action you must take . . . It troubles you, General?” Lee’s instincts took over once more, and he let his shoulders sag a moment, dropping the tense, straight back and upright posture he had maintained since he first arrived. She was exposing her feelings, being vulnerable, and some part of Lee knew that he had to match that sentiment. “I apologize for speaking out of line, but it seems to trouble you greatly.”

“It does,” she answered with a nod, walking over to a cabinet in the tent and pulling out a bottle of wine. “But I can’t let the troops know that.”

“I understand, General,” Lee said. “But that only makes you more kind, not less.”

“If you knew what I was about to do, you wouldn’t say that,” she replied, pouring two glasses of wine and walking over to Lee.

“You do the action because you are duty bound. It bothers you because you are kind. You have only proven yourself to be more gentle-hearted, not less, by being so aggrieved by the action duty demands of you. You should not take it to heart. I don’t know what could fluster a woman of your caliber or shake her faith in herself, but so long as any unkind thought causes you such pain and consternation, then I will still count myself among those proud to serve in your command.”

The general seemed to hesitate as Lee spoke. Her hand that was halfway outstretched to give Lee one of the cups pulled back momentarily as her brows creased. “If anyone in this room is kind, it is you, Human.” She sighed and then extended him the drink. “No one has ever spoken to me like that before.”

“I apologize for speaking out of line, General.”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I shall hold those words in my heart when you leave, and they will be my beacon when I doubt the path ahead. You’re right, after all. We all must play our part, but our feelings are our own, and how we feel about what we do is sometimes just as important as what we do. I cannot let you speak of these words or my doubts outside of the tent. If the troops were to know I had even a single reservation, it would be bad for morale. So, consider that drink my bribery for your silence.”

“I need no bribery but to know my actions please you, General. That alone could keep me warm on cold nights and inspired even on the darkest of days.” Lee was usually one to push for the consumption of bacon, but for some reason, he felt that he needed to serve this woman a heavy dose of cheese first. The letter he had given her was so depressing that he could only imagine what she was going through, and even though he was the one to cause her burdened state, it still pained him just as much.

The words he had spoken about one’s trepidation when committing unkind acts were important: those words were just as much for himself as they were for her. He too was shaken by the actions he had to take, but still, he knew he must press on. To share this burden of being a leader with another leader, even if she was blissfully ignorant of his standing and hand in the current situation, was comforting to a degree.

The wine was good, but it wasn’t anything close to what he could make for himself or even what he had transmuted from the slime. The other drinks had flavor: they were sweet and smooth and ran down his pallet easily. This one was bitter--not the bitterness of a red wine’s tannins or spoiled alcohol, but something dry and tart and difficult to swallow.

Once glance at her expression told him that the wine was just as bitter to her despite the fact she had never tasted his own vintage. Every small sip made her frown, her brows creasing a little more than her normal expression, and she pursed her lips afterward as if the moisture had been sucked from them as the wine passed over her lips.

The two of them drank silently in disappointment. This quiet lasted for a quarter of an hour until she finished her cup and was done scribbling a note onto a piece of paper, which was placed in an envelope and sealed with her stamp.

“Thank you,” she said, looking down at her cup. “Thank you for letting me put off what I must do for even a moment. You, my dear scout captain, are indeed the kind one.”

“It was an honor to be of assistance, General.” Lee hated that he had done this to someone. Being so close and sharing a moment with someone who might inevitably be one of his victims was hard to deal with, but it had to be done.

She handed him the letter and said, “Take this to command and report that His Majesty’s loyal servant has received her orders and will carry them out at once. For the glory of Birnefeld.” her voice lacked no enthusiasm, even as she went through the motions of praising her state.

Lee took the letter--and a deep breath with it--and left the tent. He made sure to keep his head down as he left the camp so that he wouldn’t draw any attention to himself. When he finally reached the gate, took the mount and left the base, a system notification popped up to let him know that, in case he had any doubts about the outcome of his mission, it was a success.

Title: The Great Deceiver

Some men’s lies can ruin a moment, some a day, some even can tell lies that might ruin a life, but to you that is nothing. You are no petty cozener. With one lie, you have potentially damned two empires.

Effect: +10 to Deceit. +5 Charisma. -2 Honor.

The great deceiver indeed. Lee’s scowl deepened as he galloped the six-legged mount back toward where his friends were holding the real messenger hostage.

Chapter 11

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 25

Health: 350/350

EXP: 28432/32500

Primary Stats:

Power 35 (36)

Toughness 35 (36)

Spirit 35 (36)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 25

Courage 20

Deceit 29

Intelligence 160 (168)

Honor 3

Faith 787

Personal Faith 245

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 8

Sneak Journeyman Level 2

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 3

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 10

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 3

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 3

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

The Great Deceiver

Miller was no longer struggling to hold the man down but was sitting on him instead while chatting with Amber and Ling, and all three perked up when they heard Lee approaching.

“Did you deliver the letter? Are we closer to killing the Herald?” Miller asked, standing and yanking the messenger up with him.

“Everything worked out fine,” Lee answered with a nod. She even drafted a reply to send back to the capital.” He held up the letter as if showing them proof, making sure the messenger saw it clearly as well.

“You bastard,” the man spat. “Do you know what level of crime it is to impersonate an agent of His Majesty? You’re going to be hanged as soon as I get to a camp and report this.”

Lee blinked. “Seriously? You’re just now making that threat?” He took off his clothes and changed back into his leather armor. Rather than returning the uniform, however, he decided to keep it. He didn’t know when he might need to impersonate a scout captain in the future, and he wanted to keep his options open.

“Well, if you have what you want, then what do we do with him?” Miller asked, signaling toward their prisoner.

“That’s a good question . . .” Lee said slowly as he thought about it. “We could just kill him, bury the body and pretend we never ran into him.”

“Yes, we could,” Ling agreed with a nod. “That would be the most logical way to handle it.”

“Or we could give him the letters and force him to walk back to town. All we have to do is leave a guard or two behind to kill him in case he turns around,” Lee suggested.

“Then wouldn’t we be down two men? If they’re guarding him, they aren’t going to be with us. We are going into battle soon, right? We have to go in with all of our might and crush the enemy into pieces. We cannot afford to leave anyone behind,” Miller countered.

“The only other alternative is that we kill him then,” Lee said.

“We could just keep him as a prisoner? Let him free when the time is right?” Amber suggested. “Having an extra prisoner might be helpful. I’m sure you’ll think of a way to use him in the future.”

“Like a slave?” Lee’s face twisted at that idea. Nope. I might be a liar, but slaver? I won’t be that.

“No, maybe just a guest until we find the opportune time to let him free,” Amber continued.

Lee thought about it for a minute and then nodded his assent. “Alright. That makes sense. Good idea, Amber,” he said, leaning over and putting an arm around her. “You’re a genius sometimes.”

Ling and Miller both shook their heads at Lee’s display of affection, but Ling pulled out a rope and began binding the prisoner. It only took a few minutes, and then Lee threw the bound hostage over the back saddle of his own mount before climbing on top and leading them all back to camp.

Lee had the rest of the group form up and march at full pace back toward Kirshtein. Unlike the route and speed they had traveled when moving toward the army, where they had frequently detoured and killed everything on the way, their journey back to the city was direct and hurried. Lee didn’t even let Ling waste a moment nocking an arrow to shoot a rabbit on the side of the path.

Lee pulled out the letter that the general had given him when they arrived, opened it up with his craft so as not to destroy the seal and read it again. It wasn’t long, probably no more than five or six hundred words, and most of it was spent discussing troop condition and how many rations they had managed to stockpile along with minutia of the army camp’s politics. He didn’t know why the general had made such an impression on him when they hadn’t met for more than a moment, but she had. If not for Masha’s beautiful face lingering in his mind, he might have gone to sleep thinking about her that night. There was some intangible thing about her that he couldn’t put his finger on exactly, and it had stayed with him.

“You got a woman on your mind,” Dave said as he came up on Lee’s side and sat down next to him, looking over at the letter Lee was holding.

Lee sighed as he put away his letter and then pulled out two cups and filled them to the brim. “I don’t think I ever don’t have one on my mind.”

“Mmm . . . That’s why I’m so good at fighting, you know,” Dave said as he took the beer.

“That you always have a woman on your mind?” Lee asked.

“Nah, the opposite. It’s that I never have one on my mind,” he laughed. “I used to figure that I’d happily accept if fate wanted to give me a woman, but I wouldn’t ever chase one.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lee said, nodding along. “And since fate never wanted to give you one, you never had to split your time between women and training.”

“Hey!” Dave protested. “Don’t put it so bluntly! It makes me sound sad or lonely.”

“You’re not both?” Lee asked.

“Simply cruel, brother. After all we’ve been through, can’t you be a little nicer? Add a little sugar on those words?” Dave pleaded. He jabbed Lee’s arm, but nothing hard enough to even warrant a point of damage.

Lee laughed. “Yeah, I am pretty cruel, you know?”

“I know!” Dave agreed. “I have a rough idea of what we’ve just done, and I don’t think I’d ever have the stomach to do it myself.”

“Maybe,” Lee said. “Maybe. But I didn’t see any other way around it.”

“Mmhmm.” Dave just continued to nod. “If Augustus is forcing you to do it, then you have to do it. That’s just the way things are. We’re mortals, and mortals must move to accommodate the will of the gods. You’re just lucky your god isn’t a particularly cruel one. After hearing pieces of your friend Miller’s tale, I don’t think I’d ever want to live in a world that was run by a god like that.”

Augustus is forcing me to do it? Lee blinked at the words. He thinks that I’m doing this because I’m forced to? Would he think less of me if he knew it was my plan, my decision, and no one at all was making me do anything?

“Hey, don’t let it get to you. Drink your beer and give me some more of that bacon,” Dave insisted. “There will be plenty of time to be depressed tomorrow.”

“Why do I get the feeling that, if I’m depressed and mopey tomorrow, you’re going to say the same thing?” Lee laughed.

“Who says? Maybe I’ll just hang you upside down and shake you until the bacon falls out. That might be easier than trying to deal with your personal issues. We’ve got work today, and we’ll have work tomorrow. If there is a tomorrow after tomorrow, we’ll probably have work then too. You can be depressed and mopey when you’re dead. You’ll have plenty of time for it then.”

Lee enjoyed hearing versions of his idioms twisted in this world. Back home, it was ‘There is plenty of time to rest when you’re dead.’ Here with Dave, it was ‘You’ll have plenty of time to be depressed and mopey when you’re dead.’ It was a clear and stark difference in the lifestyles and attitudes of the two worlds, but it amused him even more that this came from someone who had been locked in a prison with nothing to do for weeks on end.

“Maybe,” Lee said and then didn’t add anything else. He just drank his beer with the same quiet attitude that he had enjoyed with the general. This time, though, he had Dave on his side, rambling away about the old days as he made inappropriate jokes and demanded more beverages. Eventually, Miller showed up, and then the two of them demanded a lot of extra beverages. They got along together perfectly, though Lee wasn’t sure if Dave knew Miller was actually serious about the justice talk or the ways in which he planned to kill people or had killed people. Dave chuckled or laughed at each story and example as if it were a joke, and Lee could only shake his head as he remembered some very clear details about how he and Miller had done some of those gruesome killings together.

Eventually, Lee set aside several extra rounds so that they wouldn’t bother him and went to his tent with Amber. Not only did he not have to talk with her, but he was able to enjoy the added pleasure of not having to listen either. They lay together, curled up and snuggled together as the sun went down, and Lee watched the general’s army through the eyes of a golem.

-----

“You know, you have to get up eventually,” Amber muttered when morning light struck through the weak flaps of the tent.

“Not yet I don’t.” Lee shrugged off her admonition and turned over instead.

Amber, still in her birthday suit as she usually was when they slept together, rolled over on top of him and pressed her weight down against him. “If you don’t get up, no one will know what to do now that morning has come. You need to do that whole leadership thing you do,” Amber pleaded. “I’ve seen what it’s like when you’re not around, and trust me, you need to get up and take charge.”

“Not yet,” Lee repeated with a shake of his head. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, and he was very keenly aware of how much time he had left. He had about five hours, and if he could, he preferred to spend all five of them in the bed. There was a very real possibility that this day might be his last, and no amount of last-minute prep would change his odds. The only thing he could do was enjoy the time he had, and lying in a comfortable bed seemed like the perfect way to do it. “I’ll get up and tell people what to do when it’s time. Just let me sleep,” Lee pleaded.

“Ugh, you’re so incorrigible sometimes,” Amber sighed, her soft milky-white chest tempting Lee far more than it ever had before as it pressed down into him with each breath she took.

“So I’m told, but I’m still not getting up.” Lee made an effort to clench the blanket tighter as he pulled it over the two of them. It was a reflexive reaction since his mother would simply jerk the blanket off of him in the mornings and let the sun do her dirty work. When people pestered him now, or when an alarm clock went off, that blanket was wrapped as tightly as possible.

“Fine, fine. Then we’ll just wait in here. If you’re not going out, then I’m not going to go out and deal with them either. After how much Dave and Miller drank last night, I don’t want to anyway,” Amber said. “Miller is bad enough when he’s drunk off his magic-powered shout, whatever that thing is, but it’s even worse with Dave.”

Lee nodded. “It was like watching two college kids discover beer for the first time last night,” he laughed.

“College kids?” Amber questioned as she gave up resting on top of him and slid to the side so that she could stare into his eyes. “What’s a college kid?”

“Oh.” Lee blinked. “That’s right. You probably don’t have colleges. They’re basically institutes where young adults are forced to leave their parents and go learn a bunch of stuff about the world. They don’t let children drink at all where I’m from, and parents are very strict about enforcing that, so when they get there . . . well, the kids go wild. Years of being told exactly what they can and cannot do adds up, and the moment they are free to make their own decisions, they usually start with alcohol. It leads to a bunch of people drinking far more than they ever would normally.”

“Where you’re from . . .” Amber trailed off. “Are you like Miller? Are you from a different world? One ruled by some god? Are you from the world with his goddess or maybe a world that Augustus runs instead?”

Lee hesitated. He had to be careful with what he said to Amber since she seemed to hold onto and remember every single word that came out of his mouth. She seemed naturally bright, and along with that intelligence came an inability to just blindly believe what Lee said like many of the others did.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. There’s no harm in that, right? I can just tell her the truth, right? He half-expected a bolt of lightning to come down and strike him for the sin of breaking the unspoken rule about not mentioning the fact that he was from another world, but nothing happened. Welp, if you’re not going to stop me, I’m going ahead with it, he mentally told the system. “I’m from a world far more advanced than this one. As for the gods . . . Well, Augustus isn’t ours. I was picked by Augustus for some complicated reasons, but he was definitely not my deity before that,” Lee confessed. “It was actually kind of shocking for me since the world I came from didn’t have any of the magic and sorcery of this one.”

“Really?” Amber’s eyes filled with wonder like a kid learning about the world for the first time. “Tell me more about it,” she asked eagerly.

Which is exactly what Lee did: he told her everything. He told her about his time playing video games with Wolfe, about cars and movies, about planes and trains and computers and televisions. He didn’t leave a single detail out, and before he knew it, his time was up. He had spent over five hours telling this eager listener every detail he could about his world, and she had just lied there, enjoying his story and adding in fun details about her own as she shared parts of her life with him. The only reason they stopped was he knew that General Brigid’s army would soon be approaching Kirshtein.

“It looks like I’m out of ‘not yet’s,’” Lee said as he stood up and started putting on his clothes.

“That’s fine. You have to tell me more when we get back,” Amber said as she did the same. Lee hated to see Amber put on clothes but loved the attractive way in which she did it.

“I will,” he promised. “When this is over, just you, me, some alcohol and more stories. I want to hear more about your life too.”

With that conversation over, Lee walked out to greet the surprisingly-sober bunch of misfits he had grown accustomed to traveling with. “Not a single drunk among you?” Lee asked as he looked at them. “Et tu, Miller?”

“And me what?” Miller blinked. “Oh, sober. Yeah, well, the magical booze-distributing boss and Augustus both seemed to have been gone all morning, so we’ve had nothing to drink.”

Lee looked over at the two kegs worth of beer he had left the less than twenty people to see it all gone. You drank all of that in one night on top of what I gave you beforehand? Lee sighed. He was kind of glad he hadn’t left more, or when the fight started, they might be far past the inebriated level that gave them the bonuses of Drunken Appreciation and straight into the blackout level. I cannot leave Miller and Dave together in the same bar if I’m the one footing the bill.

“Well, gather round. At least you’ll all be clear-headed enough for what’s about to come,” Lee said as he pulled out some papers and began using his power to carve out a detailed map of the city on the pages, complete with little arrows and markers for where they’d be going in the city.

“Woah,” Dave said as he watched the process. “That’s amazing.”

“Still not as good as the bacon,” Pelham harrumphed.

I left you guys alone for one morning! What the heck?! Lee, whether through Charisma or common sense, could tell that the atmosphere was oddly much more negative against him than usual.

“Okay, so here’s what I understand of the city from Connacht’s letters,” Lee said, “and here is where we are,” he added, pointing to where the circles with their names in tiny font were. “Our goal in this siege is not to win the battle. Connacht and the other Humans have already put together an army--they’ve been preparing for this fight for nearly a week--and there is no doubt they have had scouts reporting the numbers as well as our location. If they weren’t ready to hold this off, we’d be hearing about it already.”

Pelham nodded. “That makes sense, but can you trust someone who is spying on you all the time?”

“Why not? I trust my wife, and that woman won’t let me go to a friend’s house without double checking it with his girl. She keeps better tabs on me than Ramon did before payday,” a Satterfielder whom Lee had yet to exchange words with said with a laugh, easing up the tension in the atmosphere.

“Well, regardless, we don’t have much of a choice but to trust him. The only other alternative is to go in even blinder than we are now and to have no assistance on the inside,” Lee said. “I won’t lie. I don’t like trusting him any more than you do, but I’m doing this for the same reason he’s helping us. It’s what’s best for the moment.”

“Politicians,” Miller harrumphed. “There is no justice to be had from their kind.”

“Yeah, no justice at all.” Lee smiled at his friend, who was once more in full bull-headed angry mode at evildoers. “But let’s get back to the task at hand. I’m going to need to break us up into three groups. The first is going to be with Miller and his Paladin order,” Lee said, pointing to the spot on the map where they were. “Your mission is going to be the most crucial. You need to rally over here and here”--he pointed toward two of the gatehouses--“and hold the enemy at all costs. The forces of Kirshtein are likely to form a heavy front-facing military and leave their flanks open to any stealth troops. I know how much you hate stealthy stuff, so this should be an easy task, but if this gatehouse falls, we’re in trouble. We need it as an exit if things go wrong, but more importantly, I can’t let the attacking army gain entrance.

“So just stop the bad guys from coming through an easily-defensible gate?” Miller asked. “Easy enough. I will crush every little insect that dares try to sneak past me,” he declared proudly. “My spears thirst for blood after all this waiting.”

“Well, there is one caveat . . .” Lee said with some hesitation. “I need you to treat all non-Humans as enemies. If they’re from the city, try to stop them if you can without killing them, but don’t let anyone through that gate.

“With the way the troops are going to roll out and where the Herald is located, if we move quickly, we should be able to catch him before he reaches the battlements. The natural path toward the best spot to view the battle while remaining at a distance will lead him through this point . . .” Lee marked a spot on the map. “That’s where we’re setting up our attack. It’ll be close enough to the actual combat that we will be able to reach it easily, and more importantly, our actions won’t draw attention at all from those in earshot of us if things get out of hand.

“Anyone who hears a battle occurring will think that it’s noise from the actual engagement and stay focused on their own fight. We will be banking on their amateur formations and tunnel vision, but from what little information I’ve gathered, this will be the case for sure. They haven’t finished restructuring the military to match their racist agendas, so they’re short nearly two-thirds of their leadership since they had to replace all of the old captains and commanders that got their position from the previous king’s nepotistic hiring practices.”

“So why does sealing off the gate matter then?” Miller asked. “If no one is going to assist him, what good is that?”

“No one will assist him so long as we don’t get heavily pressured on that side. That means, as long as the gate looks like it will hold indefinitely, their commander won’t send any troops to reinforce it. He won’t be able to see the situation on the ground from his tower, but he will be able to see the situation at your tower from his. Not to mention, if someone gets through, we’ll be sandwiched on both sides by foes. That’s not acceptable. We need to make sure he’s the one who is getting flanked, not us.”

“I can do that,” Miller said confidently with a determined nod. “But I’d rather be there to make sure he’s dead. Dead-dead.”

“I know you want that,” Lee said, “but I can’t let you be there. You’re a brilliant fighter, nearly peerless, but Augustus said the plan won’t work if you come with us.”

Miller didn’t take this well at all, slamming his spear on the ground and batting a glass mug so hard it flew over fifty feet before smashing into a large tree outside the camp. “I MUST BE THERE TO SERVE JUSTICE TO THAT EVIL CREATURE!” Miller bellowed.

“Do you not have faith in me? In Augustus?” Lee asked, pressing the issue. This is why I’m not having you come with me: you may be a great fighter, but you’re too angry to be reliable if something comes up. We’d have to change the plan at the last minute and not engage.

The strategic liability Miller presented was something Lee had given a great deal of thought on the road back. He knew that Miller wanted to be the one to deal the final blow, but a huge part of him also knew that, if Miller were there, they’d be committed to the engagement no matter what. In the worst-case scenario, a very real possibility, the Herald might show up with fifty or sixty troops. If he did that, then Lee knew his own forces had a very good chance of dying in the skirmish before anything played out. It wouldn’t be good at all to engage them, but if Miller were there, they would have no choice. He had lost the love of his life to this Herald’s goddess, and given the way he violently overreacted to certain triggers such as Lee going missing or people being kidnapped in Satterfield, there was no chance in hell that Lee believed Miller wouldn’t charge straight into battle the moment he saw the Herald. After all, Lee might have done the same in Miller’s shoes.

“I have faith that you will deliver me justice, but how am I to receive it if I’m not there? She must die by my hands. I must kill her. I must rend her lacky piece from piece until the world collapses around her, and the light dims from her eyes as it did for Kate. I. Will. Kill Her!” Miller shouted. “I MUST KILL HER!”

“Woah!” Dave put a hand on Miller’s shoulder. “You need to chill out, brother. Which is more important: your vengeance or your presence?”

Miller’s face was now a solid red that matched his hair, and he didn’t say a word as he stared dead-eyed at Lee. Lee felt like he was challenging him, a game of mental chicken to see who would blink and yield first. The stare only lasted a minute or two at most, but for Lee, it felt like an hour as he glared down his hulking Firbolg friend, barely breathing as he maintained eye contact. He knew that if he didn’t stand his ground here, there was no way he’d be able to move Miller or anyone else in the future. This was an incredibly-important point for a commander since a leader who didn’t have control of his own troops was doomed to failure. That was a lesson that Alexander had made sure to explain to Lee several times for some reason.

“Fine!” Miller growled, breaking the silence. “I’ll hold that gate. Not a soul will get through, but I need your promise that the Herald dies today.”

“You know Augustus delivers when it’s time. Have faith in this one, Miller. Have faith that Augustus and I won’t let you down.” Lee spoke forcefully, staring at Miller for a few more seconds before dropping his eyes back down to the map below them. “Alright,” he continued, focusing on the need to strategize, “next, I’m going to need you two to move here.” He pointed at Dave and Pelham. They were essentially his strongest members at the moment. While Lee was much more confident in his ability to kill people than he used to be, he still didn’t have the faith that he’d ever be able to best Dave in a fight.

Dave was an insanely-strong fighter with that two-handed flail in his hands, and Lee had seen enough of Pelham’s work to know that he was not one to be taken lightly either. The two of them together could probably handle Lee’s inner circle in a fair fight. The only problem was that they had little to no defense to speak of. Pelham had taken to dual-wielding blades like a certain dark elf ranger, and Dave waved around the two-handed flail like he was hitting propped-up sandbags, never taking care to worry about whether or not they would hit him back. Even without good armor, his offense was so quick and devastating that he hadn’t been punished for this behavior in the colosseum. In the real battle, however, there would be archers. There would be people using ranged attacks that could take him out from afar before he ever had a chance to so much as raise his weapon. That’s why Lee had to be careful when planning where to put these two powerhouses. He had to use them carefully if he planned on keeping them around.

The spot that Lee had marked for them was actually a bar on the opposite side of the open public square that he had decided to use for his engagement with the Herald. “Your job will be simple: I’m going to need you two to wait there for my signal. He motioned for one of the golems to join the older man, and Dave held the rat in his hands so carefully that it looked like he was picking up a newborn baby.

“Is this your signal?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, it is. What’s going to happen is this little flying rodent is going to take off through the door the second it's time for you to move. All you need to do is follow him. Do that, and you’ll be fine. When you’re following him, assume that your orders are to kill the Herald on sight if the little mouse takes to the air and to hide and wait for a flanking opportunity if it stays on the ground. Easy enough, right?”

Amber grabbed the mouse from Dave’s hand and held it up by its paws. “How does it even work?” She poked it a few times, prompting Lee to snatch it from her and hand it back to Dave.

“It works very delicately, so stop poking at it,” Lee laughed.

“Alright.” Amber frowned. “But . . .”

“Sure. After the fight, I’ll let you play with one.”

“You have more?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, he’s Lee, the king of the rats,” Miller proclaimed with a nod. Lee didn’t know if he meant it to sound the way it did, but after experiencing Humans being compared to rodents so often by the racist Firbolg guards, Lee still winced even if Miller’s comment was pretty much in line with the conversation.

“I prefer to just be called the cheese king,” Lee replied with a smile, shaking off his irritation. “Alright. Lastly, we have the three of us. We’re going to be needing your two groups to follow your courses cleanly and evenly. If you do that, the three of us should be fine. Granted, if you see a Firbolg or Leprechaun on the way to your destination, kill him without hesitation. If we get intercepted, this whole plan will go to hell.”

“To hell?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, it’s . . . It’s an expression. It just means we’ll be damned,” Lee clarified.

“Ah, yeah. Damned. That’s bad. So, go to a bar and kill all the potential enemies on the way to the bar. That sounds easy enough,” Pelham commented. He rotated the map a bit and put his finger over his little circle there, taking a moment to trace the path that Lee had set for them toward the bar. “This shouldn’t be a problem. I like killing, and I like bars. You good too?”

“Me? Of course I’m good,” Dave chortled. “Though I think I’ll stick to just liking bars. I’m too old to enjoy anyone dying these days.”

Pelham nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Okay. So now that we have that worked out, does anyone have any further questions?” Lee asked the group. “Are we all good?”

Miller, Dave and Pelham looked at the map, and Miller studied it very intently for someone who would be the first to reach his destination and only have to camp the rest of the fight. At last, they all nodded.

“I’m good,” Miller said.

“Same,” Dave and Pelham both agreed.

“Then we move out. Miller, you go first. Dave and Pelham, wait for me here. I have one final task to do before we leave, and I’m going to be relying on your escort just as much as I’ll be relying on your help in the future.”

“That’s fine, but can I keep the little guy?” Dave asked as he poked the mouse in the stomach. “And can he get drunk? You gonna mind if I give him some beer?”

“Do you even have any beer?” Lee shot back

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me: can we have some beer?” Dave asked.

Lee paused and looked at the approaching army through the golem he was using to scout. I’ve got enough time, not much, but enough. “Uh . . . okay. Here, since this might be our last drink together, and I don’t know which one of you will make it back with me, let’s celebrate early.” Lee produced mugs and a magical brew. He didn’t have too much left--they had been consuming it at a good rate--but he had enough for this. He even pulled out a little bacon, not too much to give anyone post-meal fatigue, but enough to taste and enjoy with the beer.

“Cheers,” he said after everyone had grabbed a beer.

“Cheers,” they echoed him. Lee wondered if, without the translation system, the toast would be several people saying the same word ‘cheers’ in imitation of him or whether it would be just a cacophony of individuals’ words clamoring over each other.

With that done, Lee, Ling and Amber marched over to the field outside the section of wall where General Brigid’s army would most certainly attack. There he waited for the army to reach its stopping point. Even if he had managed to spur the general to war using a forged document, that didn't mean that everything would go smoothly. In fact, since she seemed like an incredibly-competent general, he had full faith that she would stop at a perfect distance from the city’s tall walls to prevent anyone from launching an attack against her while she prepared her own siege equipment. It was only natural. No general, not even Agamemnon approaching Troy, would charge a fortified city without siege towers at the very least, trebuchets and rams at the most.

This sensible strategy presented a problem for Lee: he needed the enemy to engage right away. He needed them to wage battle the moment they reached their enemy’s walls. Thus, this is where Lee further helped things along. When the army’s march slowed to a crawl, Lee took out one of the three magical sheets of paper he had gotten from the Herald of the God of Storytelling after vanquishing him and began scribbling away on one of them.

At first, he had tried to use his magical ability to envision the ink scrawling across the page in perfect lettering, but the paper resisted any changes from his spirit by sending a small but painful shock back at him. Lee shook out his hand and then pulled out a quill and inkwell so that he could go about it the old-fashioned way. Strangely, the moment his quill touched the page, he knew that he was unable to pull it away. The paper was a magical artifact, and its hold on him was seemingly absolute. He couldn’t stop writing, and one word after another flowed onto the page until both its front and back were complete with the story he wanted to tell. The only problem was that it was far from the ideal story he had imagined. There were several pieces that were flat out contrary to his desires, but it was still close enough for his purposes. He could only speculate that the pieces that had been changed were altered because he had no control over his enemies and their actions or their responses to what he had planned.

“What did you just do?” Ling gasped.

A loud whoosh, like the sound of large amounts of air being displaced all at once, drew their attention to a nearby field that lay between the general’s army and the city walls. There, two large dragons rose slowly up from the ground, crawling their way into being as if they were exhuming themselves from graves that didn’t exist and displacing large swaths of land and air in the process. Both the army and the archers on the walls stopped and stood frozen, watching in horror and fascination as if time had stopped. When the dragons, which were each over thirty feet tall, had finally broken through, they raised their heads up, spread their wings out and roared. The cry was so loud and powerful that Lee felt its magical strength from where he was standing.

“I don’t know,” Lee said, swallowing hard at their majesty. This was beyond any of his greatest expectations. He had anticipated the weak-willed and pathetic, whelp-like drake that he had fought when clashing against the Herald, but these two beasts were so immense that they would have fit in perfectly as the main antagonists of a band of home-seeking dwarves. “I don’t know at all.”

The two dragons reached back into the earth and grabbed large rocks between their claws before taking to the skies. They flew straight up, perhaps seventy or eighty feet into the air, before adjusting course and swooping down directly toward the city’s walls. They weaved back and forth around each other, spiraling through the sky and leaving trails of spirit in the wake. Even from far away, Lee knew that those ripples of spirit were thick and dense, just like the ones he used to craft weapons and create healing potions.

Just as they were about to crash into the gate, they suddenly spread their wings and ground to a halt. The two beasts shoved forward, using their combined momentum and strength to hurl the massive boulders forward like weightlifters would a medicine ball. The walls exploded under the force of the attack, the stalwart defenses that had stood for years shattering instantly. The archers on top were either shredded by stone fragments that were sent flying by the blast or sent careening to their deaths on the ground below, and those who didn’t immediately die from the fall would be trapped under the rubble, but the effect was the same. Huge fragments from the walls went flying back into the city, scattering across homes and buildings alike. Lee was too far away to hear the screams, but he knew that they were sounding off within the mist-like cloud of dust and dirt that shot up into the air.

But the assault wasn’t finished. The archers who remained on the untouched sections of the wall broke out of their awe-induced torpor and began firing at the dragons, and the massive beasts retaliated by sending two distinctly different waves of breath attacks at their enemies.

Both of the dragons were straight out of a European myth, having the same stocky bodies, expansive wings and sturdy limbs of that variety of dragon, but they varied from each other in color. The one on the right was a deep dark-jade color, and as he was attacked, he let forth a wave of acidic mist toward the archers nearest him. The corrosive cloud billowed out at the archers, hanging in the air and spreading out slowly. This acidic mist melted the flesh of its prey, leaving behind only the armor and weapons of those it came into contact with behind. The other dragon was solid orange, and a scorching stream of flame billowed out from its maw, incinerating those left in what Lee imagined was a much more humane way than its counterpart. Nevertheless, the dragonfire was equally as destructive. Even the stone underneath the archers’ feet was blackened as the men were turned to ash.

The dragons let out triumphant roars, sending the few remaining survivors to their knees, clutching their heads in pain. The mighty dragons then took to the skies again. Given the opening that had so suddenly presented itself, the soldiers lined up in formation and readied their shields and spears, doubtlessly terrified but obediently anticipating an order to charge. None came. The beasts’ attack on the city had provided as much trepidation as it did opportunity. This was also the part of the story that Lee hadn’t wanted. This was the part that had been written against his will. He wanted the soldiers to rush through the breach and storm the city recklessly, but he knew that wasn’t going to occur since the storybook page had already told him that no such charge would happen.

The two dragons, feeling that their invitation to enter the city was being ignored after so kindly opening the door to the city’s visitors, circled around to the area right behind General Brigid’s army at full speed. Anyone would be petrified by those monstrosities, but the soldiers bravely stood their ground, refusing to concede even an inch or turn and run. The dragons let out another roar as they swooped over the lines, and yet General Brigid still refused to order the charge. Frustrated and angry, the two dragons dove into the back line with claws extended and slashed at the troops. After seeing what happened to the archers on the wall, the soldiers finally broke rank and charged forward toward the breach and away from the dragons. Bravery could only be counted on for so much, and they had no faith in being able to handle three-story-tall behemoths that could melt lines of men with a single breath.

I should just use these bastards to kill the enemy Herald, Lee thought as he watched the mayhem. Even I wouldn't stand a chance, so how could that guy? How could anyone face one of those dragons?

“I’d be careful about that,” Augustus’s voice popped into Lee’s head. “Your tasks were to unite the town and to grow in rank. If you take the easy way out now with that piece of paper, all your scheming will be wasted. You might kill the Herald, but you’ll only gain governance over a worthless scrap heap of a town.”

Is that the only reason I need to be careful? Lee asked, wondering what other regulations went with the pages.

“Well, that and the limitation of the page itself. A well-told story can change the destiny of men, but it cannot change the fate of gods,” Augustus said.

That’s nonsense. That’s exactly what it has done right here. Without this story, you and this Goddess of Ice would both be alive tomorrow. Now, one of you two is damned to die today.

“I don’t think any fate is certain until it’s written in the history books,” Augustus added ominously.

The god’s words echoed through Lee’s mind in the usual cryptically-unsettling manner that any of his warnings did, disquieting his heart and sowing apprehension in his mind. Is this all going to be for nothing? Lee thought as rows and rows of troops rushed forward to avoid the two dragons that spurred them onward, leaping behind and slashing at the stragglers.

General Brigid was trying to organize her troops and salvage the situation. She straightened the broken lines even as they rushed forward, spacing out the troops and turning the tides of madness back into order. She couldn't get them to turn around or stop, but to her credit, the general was able to make their attack look surprisingly organized.

“For His Majesty! FOR THE DRAGON KING!” she shouted as she charged her horse toward battle, and the soldiers all repeated her words in unison. Their cries blended together, equaling the power and volume of the dragons’ roars, even if their voices carried none of the same magical energy.

The troops started funneling through the hole the deadly beasts had made when they reached the wall, General Brigid leading the way. Lee wanted to stay and watch, but his plan had to be completed. The dragons, having forced the army forward so that they were sandwiched between the city and their ferocious claws, dove headfirst back into the ground and vanished into the grass without so much as destroying a single blade in the process. Their massive forms seemed to tunnel back into whatever earthen grave they had initially crawled out of until they disappeared from existence.

“Let’s go,” Lee said, beckoning the two women at his sides as well as the golem he had used to scout out General Brigid’s troop movements. The four quickly moved to collect Dave and Pelham before continuing on toward the town. One of the golems had flown on ahead, scouting the town and searching for the Herald, and it had just managed to spot the Firbolg. Lee wasn’t sure he’d be able to recognize the Herald, but the unique clothes he wore, the way people treated him, and the cold bursts of magic he gave off made it obvious who he was. Spurring the charge had taken longer than expected and cost more troops than Lee had initially planned, but at least one part of his machinations had gone smoothly. He had identified his target, and everything seemed to be right on course.

After parting ways with Lee and Pelham at the bar, Lee’s small group proceeded to the middle of the square, the area in which Lee hoped to intercept the Firbolg Herald, and he began setting up traps as quickly as he could. He strung out tripwires and hooked them to some of the large crossbows he had left over from their time hunting the Cragaboom before he was arrested. He didn’t have much time to work with, so he had to do his work quickly. He ordered Amber and Ling to keep the park clear from bystanders until his main guest arrived, so the two of them worked in concert to kill any unlucky Firbolg or even Human that came their way.

Amber had leveled up her proficiency in Sneak even faster than Lee, and she was able to make great use of the skill as she bounced between targets, killing her prey as easily as if she were chopping up tomatoes on a cutting board before melding into the shadows and disappearing.

“You almost done?” Ling asked anxiously, holding her bow at the ready in case anyone came into sight who shouldn’t be there.

“Yeah, almost,” Lee answered. “Just one final touch.” He set about preparing the last trick he had up his sleeve, something he had been saving for an occasion just like this one: bottles of oil with cloth shoved down into them. They were a rough approximation of a Molotov cocktail that he had learned how to make thanks to BluTube. The fuel wasn’t as flammable or explosive as something from the modern era, where purification methods were vastly superior, but it would be enough to get the job done. He opened half of them up, removing the cloth and spilling the oil across the road the Herald would travel. Then, so that it wouldn’t be obvious, he collected some leaves from around the park and kicked them around so that they covered up the oil.

“You’re evil. You know that?” Ling remarked as she watched Lee work.

“I’d like to think I’m quite a nice guy.” He responded with a nonchalant shrug, but her words stung, causing him to lose what little joy watching the majestic dragons and the charge of the beautiful general had given him. “He’s almost here! Get back and hide!” Lee motioned for both of the girls to disappear.

Lee positioned himself in middle of the road just shy of where he needed the enemies to stop and firmly held onto his shield as he waited for his opponents. The wait stretched on for what felt like an hour as he watched them approach him through the eyes of one of his golems. The enemy troops marched in perfectly-synchronized order, four rows of five led by the Firbolg leader, who looked exactly like Miller and emanated rings of icy cold as he walked. His troops were dressed in standard black leather armor, and each carried a small shield and spear.

Lee had initially expected the Firbolg Herald to be geared with at least leather armor, or potentially even plate, and he had refused to believe what he saw the first time he spied him through Ethan’s eyes. Seeing him as he approached now, however, there was no denying how ridiculously he was dressed. Despite the ominous rings of frost that emanated out from his feet with every step, the Herald was dressed as casually as if he were on his way to a business luncheon; and, rather than any type of functional armor, he was garbed in white khakis and a loose-fitted blue shirt, his hands casually stuck in his pockets.

The Herald’s lack of fear as he walked toward a battlefield was unsettling, and Lee panicked a little even as he gave the order for one of the golems to leave the bar and lead Dave and Pelham to their position.

Lee couldn't take his eyes off the group as they walked down the path, and he knew that the Herald could see him from where he was at the moment. He wasn’t hiding his position at all. Even Ling was in full view as she had ignored Lee’s directive to hide. Instead, she had stayed poised, collected and out in plain sight. She had an arrow nocked and at the ready as she slowly moved up beside Lee.

Well, at least she’s confident. She had all of the calm, collected determination that Lee didn’t feel at the moment. Despite his outward calm, he was freaking out. His brain was studying those twenty troops and worrying over the worst-case scenario. If his traps didn’t do their job, there was no way he could face even ten or fifteen incredibly-skilled fighters, much less twenty who were accompanied by a powerful magic user--which he had a feeling all Heralds were.

I wonder what his powers are. Lee’s eyes flickered left to right as his brain kicked into overdrive. How in the hell is the Goddess of Grudges, which Miller assures us is her true identity, going to manifest her powers in a Herald? Lee suddenly wished he had thought of this more in-depth or at least gotten it out of Miller before the fight started. For all that Miller had told him about this Herald, and for all that Miller had given him in terms of information about the Herald’s goddess, he was still woefully short on knowledge or understanding of the Herald’s weakness.

My weakness: failure to properly plan since I get caught up spending time naked in bed with Amber too often. Lee sighed. It wasn’t the worst weakness to have, but it definitely was making him kick himself right now.

“So, you have finally returned,” the Herald called as he approached Lee. “My name is Devin, by the way. Devin McGuinness.”

“I would have thought with a name like that you would be stouter,” Lee shot back as he eyed the man up and down. Of course he has the most Irish name I could imagine besides O’Brien. “Well, I’m Lee. It’s nice to meet you.”

“No last name?” Devin’s eyes perked up. “Just Lee? Interesting. I thought a civilized man like yourself would have at least come from a society large enough that last names were required. I can understand why these podunk towns with less than two-hundred people have no need for them, but I had always imagined your true home was larger.”

“You’re not worried about this meta talk?” Lee asked, buying time.

“Meta talk? Oh, you’re a gamer in your world, are you? That makes sense. You don’t look like the business sort, and you’re definitely not the sporty kind either. I should have taken you for either a reader or a gamer,” Devin said, nodding to himself rather knowingly.

“I could be a business sort,” Lee said as he urged Ethan to hurry Dave and Pelham. He wanted them to get closer so that they could properly flank the Herald when the traps went off and the fight started, but they were still in route at the moment.

“No, no, you couldn’t be. The fact you’re here now talking to me is proof of that.” Devin’s tone, while laid back, became more derisive as he mocked Lee. “The armor too. You’re the try-hard gamer who thinks that this whole competition is an adventure. It’s written all over your face. Pathetic.”

“What’s so pathetic about wanting to gain levels or even ‘try hard,’ as you call it?” Lee asked. He couldn’t understand this guy’s logic. In a world where he might be attacked and die at any point, the idea of leveling up and getting better at combat just seemed like a natural thing to do.

“Really? You want me to spell it out for you? Well, I suppose it’s only fair. If, by some miracle of an upset, you manage to win, I shall at least impart to you some knowledge so that you stand an even better chance next time. Honestly, I thought about killing you off dozens of times while you were in the colosseum, but it was just so fun to watch the rat race through the maze.” Devin leaked arrogance from every pore as his pretentious and insulting tone grew to grate across Lee’s ears.

“You see,” Devin continued, “you shouldn’t be fighting at all. Look at me for instance. Do you see me with weapons and armor? No, because they’re not needed. Magic classes and the benefits of being a Herald can all generally be activated at a range. We’re essentially the few and lucky mages of this realm. To make adventuring and questing on your own even more counter-intuitive, you can form groups that can gain experience without you. The title you will get as a penalty for abusing this just imposes a small -5% decrease on the more useless stats anyway. How have you not realized that? Instead of fighting, you could have been working on growing your faith while trained, higher-level, better people go out and level for you. The fact that you didn’t even understand such a basic concept is a testament to the failures of Humans. You haven’t even learned to take advantage of others properly.”

“Humans haven’t learned to take advantage of others properly?” Lee couldn't help but crack a sad smile when he heard that. “I don’t think you’d ever say that if you saw the history of my people. There is no ultimate depth to the cruelty to which mankind has sunk in the search of power and authority. We have done it all and more. It’s not that we didn’t learn to use and abuse other people for our goals. Rather, it’s the opposite. We always knew how to do that. It’s cooperation that took us time to learn. It’s teamwork that I had to understand.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Pathetic. Cooperation is just group selfishness. It’s something even monkeys, wolves and . . . rats can do.”

“What is with you damn Firbolgs and calling Humans rats? You think that’s an insult of some kind?” Lee was still rather annoyed with the racism thing. “And what’s with that . . . cle . . . cleh-something curse word you guys keep spitting at us? Are those words from your world, or is everyone just an idiot here who can’t come up with proper insults?”

“It’s a derivation of a phrase meaning ‘big forehead’ in our native tongue. It’s a slur against Humans because your people have unsightly-long foreheads to begin with, and a good number of you bald so fast it only makes it worse. The term was actually native to this town long before I arrived, so you don’t need to take it out on me. As for the rats . . . Aren’t you? You band together when it suits you, and you split apart when it doesn’t. You lack discipline, hierarchy, and proper monarchs to lead the people with honor and dignity. Like rats, your kind scatters to the wind the second something goes wrong, unwilling to sacrifice themselves for any greater good.”

“Ah. So that’s the basis of your insults,” Lee mused. “Really poor taste, but I guess that’s the best you can do when all the decent, self-respecting men would have already turned their back on that goddess of yours. What were you? Fifth choice? No, that doesn’t sound right. Fifteenth? Maybe twentieth? Thirtieth choice? How many died or betrayed the goddess before she found a sap like you? I’m not even sure how she got you to stay, given how they trigger your powers.” Lee laughed. He didn’t find anything funny. He just wanted to make sure Devin knew he was mocking him and wanted Devin to feel his existence was a joke.

“Fourteenth, actually.” Devin didn’t seem phased. “It honestly would have taken a lot of work to get to first if it wasn’t for that friend of yours . . . What was his name? Miller, right? Ah, a good man. He managed to kill all the candidates I couldn’t personally eliminate. It made my job quite easy. As for whom I had to sacrifice . . . Well, it wasn't a soon-to-be wife or anything. It was just my only son. It’s not like I can’t make more of them in the eternity I will have after this competition while living as a god.”

Your own son? What kind of monster are you? Lee was appalled. He wanted to stab him, to destroy his existence and remake it just to crush it again. This was the type of scum that every society on Earth would be better off without. The fact that he was alive, the fact that he was breathing the same air as Lee, was an insult. No sane man would ever be able to sacrifice his only son for anyone or anything. Lee was tempted to just charge him and try to bury a blade in his neck, and he understood even better than before why Miller really wanted to be the one to kill this guy, but he had enough wherewithal to stick to his plan.

Lee wanted to make sure Dave and Pelham were in position before he ended the conversation. He had to stall until they arrived. His only worry was that the Herald would smell the oil. One wrong whiff, and he’d bolt, making Lee’s laid-out trap function as nothing more than a temporary wall to deter the enemy--not that it wouldn’t be useful to slow them with Ling around to snipe a good many of them, but he wanted to get the most utility out of the trap when it was sprung.

“Alright. That is a sacrifice, but what’s the point?” Lee asked, buying as much time as he could. “It’s not like your goddess will protect your son’s soul. It’s not like you'll ever get him back. Was that really worth it in the scheme of things?”

“Yes,” the man answered back. “Not that you would understand logic, but it’s simple math. One-hundred years of his life versus eons of mine--which is more valuable? How is that not an easy call to make? Did I hate her at first? Absolutely. But that’s just the nature of the beast. No power comes without a price, and it only took me a minute to understand that. If I had to kill a hundred people that would live a hundred years each just to preserve a nearly-infinite life for myself, why wouldn’t I? The logic is sound: for the greater good, the greater utility.”

“Well . . .” Lee looked down at the ground and then smiled. Not only had the Herald stopped in position over the oil, but so had the twenty men behind him. Unwilling and unable to wait any longer lest the opportunity pass him by, Lee pulled out his first Molotov cocktail. Devin didn’t even blink when saw it, he just watched as Lee used the torch he had been holding to light the rag before tossing the bottle.

One of the troops rushed forward as soon as the bottle left Lee’s hand and blocked the projectile with his shield, and as the makeshift bomb struck it, the burning oil splattered all across his body. The first bit of flaming liquid hit the ground and ignited the oil there in a sudden flash, but the Herald just watched and smiled, obviously not caring that the man in front of him was screaming in pain.

A blue ball of energy appeared in front of Devin’s chest and expanded outward in a spherical orb. In no time at all, it had encompassed the entire area and quenched the spreading fire before the oil-based flame could even reach the Herald. Then, continuing its growth, the ball encompassed not only Devin and the nineteen remaining soldiers, but also a sizable chunk of the park. It seemed as if the energy dome were a snow globe, harboring its own unique climate. Trails of blue light spread out from the circle on the ground and ran to the top of the globe before turning into snow and falling down around the inside of it.

“Now!” Lee shouted, but he didn’t have to. Ling had already nocked and fired three arrows in rapid succession at the same time Ethan jumped from pre-prepared crossbow trigger to pre-prepared crossbow trigger.

Unfortunately, both the arrows and bolts were snared by the light-blue energy waves and slowed the moment they entered the snow globe field. Ling’s arrows were either thrown off course or easily avoided, only weakly striking against the men’s armor before bouncing away harmlessly when they did make contact. The bolts, however, which were fired from the much-larger and spring-wound crossbows, where still effective. They ripped through the first people they came in contact with, and four were dropped instantly.

Your party has killed Evan. Your party has been awarded 25 silver, 12 copper, fine leather boots, an embroidered handkerchief and 898 Experience. Your share of this is 6 silver, 3 copper, fine leather boots and 224 Experience.

Your party has killed Hiro. Your party has been awarded 37 silver, 78 copper, a well-polished steel helmet and 899 Experience. Your share of this is 9 silver, 20 copper and 225 Experience.

Your party has killed Mort. Your party has been awarded 23 silver, 51 copper, a leather belt and 883 Experience. Your share of this is 6 silver, 13 copper, and 221 Experience.

Your party has killed Brody. Your party has been awarded 31 silver, 67 copper, steel gauntlets and 892 Experience. Your share of this is 8 silver, 16 copper, and 223 Experience.

Devin, who had watched the four bolts go off, grinned and clapped. “Well done! And with a rat at that. I see the terminology suits your race in more ways than one; but, sadly, this is where you die. You won’t be able to reload them with that tiny creature, and if you move to retreat . . . Well . . . I don’t think you’ll be able to do that.”

Lee suddenly realized why Devin was so calm: it was a trap.

“That’s right.” Devin gave Lee the most punchable smile he had ever seen as the cold and calculating Herald stood nonchalantly beneath the falling snow. “I knew you’d be here. I didn’t know when you’d be here, and I wasn’t sure how you would get the enemy to attack at this time, but I knew you weren’t entirely an idiot. I watched as you plotted your way out of that prison, so I had a good understanding of what your capabilities were. I knew that this would be the ideal spot for you to fight me.

“The only thing I had to do was make sure I had enough troops to kill you. Since everyone but Dave and Pelham, who I’m sure will be here soon, had family or otherwise, they’d have stayed with the last of the great Human nobles, Connacht. As for Miller and your people from Satterfield . . . Well, you wouldn’t be in the situation you’re in now if you were the type to be blasé about using other people. I had a hunch you might bring the oaf, but you definitely wouldn’t bring the people from your precious little town if you thought the fight would result in their blood.” Devin threw his head back and laughed. “For all the innocent people you sacrificed today, I do find it amusing that I knew you weren’t willing to give up those closest to you--as if their lives are somehow more valuable than the dozens who were killed the moment you started this war.”

Another twenty troops poured out of a building on Lee’s left, each also holding a spear with a buckler. Sandwiched between thirty-six people and a magic-wielding Firbolg who could slow arrows to a halt, Lee felt a pit form in his stomach.

“Ah, that’s it. There is the face of desperation. Good. Then my calculations weren’t wrong. You really were just as short-sighted as I anticipated.” Devin smirked at Lee. “Now, Herald of . . . Who was your god again? The God of Drunken Idiots? How about you just cut your wrists and make this quick for me? I might be inclined to spare the lass next to you if you do.”

Lee looked over at Ling then used a golem to look at Amber so he didn’t give away her position. “Yeah, I could do that if you’d spare them,” Lee said to Ling’s horror. She immediately shot him a look of ‘Oh, hell, no you don’t,’ but Lee brushed it off. “The problem is that the people I brought to this town would still end up dead, and while innocents are dying today, it’s so that more can live tomorrow. Like you said: it’s simple math. I love the people with me with all my heart--some of them I love more than I ever thought I could.” Lee had to stop himself from looking at Amber when he said that. “They are the family I found when I first got here, but I need to respect their wishes, and I need to protect far more than just the handful of individuals that came with me to Kirshtein. I have an entire city of Humans and Firbolgs and Leprechauns to keep safe--people you’re going to eventually let die for your own greed.”

Devin let out a slow breath of air. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’m surprised that you could see it so clearly, but I suppose everyone is due to give me at least one surprise. Well then, shall we crush that little hope you have left? And maybe those two gentlemen, Dave and Pelham? I’m quite certain they will show up eventually.”

Lee pulled out his shield and positioned himself so that he could block anyone who got too close to Ling. Thankfully, since he didn’t have to be in one position to practice his smithing, he had been able to dedicate quite a bit of time to it over the past few days while they were traveling. Thanks to his increases in Glass Smithing, his glass daggers now did an additional +9 damage.

“Ling, pull back and shoot the guys approaching from our left,” Lee ordered. He removed a few of the daggers from his inventory and threw as fast and hard as he could. They didn’t pack the same fatal power as Ling’s arrows, but they did visible damage where they struck. He only had six daggers on him, but all six struck home.

Your party has killed Jaime. Your party has been awarded 56 silver, 8 copper, a copy of ‘The Firbolg Manifesto’ and 856 Experience. Your share of this is 14 silver, 2 copper, a copy of ‘The Firbolg Manifesto’ and 214 Experience.

One person dropped instantly with the daggers buried in his neck, and two more were wounded. It wasn’t much, but in his head, Lee now had to face only thirty-five soldiers and one Herald. Then came a little extra welcome news:

Your party has killed Samantha. Your party has been awarded 99 silver, 200 copper, well-polished steel greaves, a war hammer and 901 Experience. Your share of this is 25 silver, 50 copper and 225 Experience.

Your party has killed Neil the Page. Your party has been awarded 81 silver, 125 copper, a high-quality bow, a fine steel dagger and 602 Experience. Your share of this is 21 silver, 32 copper, a fine steel dagger and 151 Experience.

Your party has killed Fletch. Your party has been awarded 7 silver, 14 copper, a well-polished steel helmet and 803 Experience. Your share of this is 2 silver, 3 copper and 201 Experience.

With Ling’s three additional kills, that thirty-five dropped down to thirty-two. It was an improvement, but it came at the cost of space. The group of men who had just exited the building formed up into ranks and then straightened out into two neat lines and charged.

“That’s good! Serve well! Even in death, I will reward your families for generations to come!” Devin called out to them before he raised his hand and pointed at Lee and Ling. With that, ten of the people near him formed up into two lines of five and attacked. They were moving so quickly that Lee had to make a decision: just run or try to attack while running. If he just ran, he had no confidence in being able to outdistance them.

It was at that moment that Dave and Pelham reached the scene. Dave sprinted into the snow globe with his giant two-handed flail, swinging as hard as he could at the closest man. His flail was slightly slowed, but there was still enough force behind the blow to crush the man’s skull.

Making a snap decision, Lee pulled his Molotov cocktails back out and threw a few of them as quickly as he could at the group approaching from his left, desperate to slow their advance as much as possible. One of the bombs crashed directly into the lead soldier, coating him in the fiery liquid from head to toe. Rather than stopping, however, the man continued his progress forward. He veered off toward Devin and the flame-extinguishing snow globe, but he never made it. He stumbled forward and collapsed, still a distance away, his agonized screams choked off as his consciousness fled him.

Your party has killed Corman. Your party has been awarded 56 silver, 76 copper, a ruby pendant, a fine steel longsword and 844 Experience. Your share of this is 14 silver, 19 copper, and 211 Experience.

Unfortunately for Lee, however, that was it. He was out of tricks. Even Ling’s arrows began to lose their effectiveness as the soldiers hid behind their shields. The men in front looked like pincushions, with arrows popping out of their legs and arms, but they were still alive and moving.

“Well, Ling,” Lee laughed, “should we run about now?”

“You think you can?” Ling shook her head.

I could always use another page . . . Then he remembered that it had taken nearly ten minutes to write everything out as it needed to be on the sheet he had used for the dragons. Dammit, Augustus, why didn’t you let me use the damn page?! Even if I couldn't have killed the Herald with it, at the very least I could have made sure that the guards around him died. I could have--

“It doesn’t work like that. You won’t understand, but if you had used them, you’d be dead!” Augustus snapped back. “Stop complaining and save your own ass and those two women of yours!”

Lee grumbled, but he didn’t doubt Augustus. It was the deity’s life on the line too, so he had no reason to trick Lee into doing something stupid. Taking one last look in both directions, Lee grabbed Ling’s hand and took off running.

“Dave! Pelham! Take to the alleys!” Lee shouted over to his new friends. He took a peek through Little Ethan’s eyes and saw them retreat backward, but the two warriors were caught in the snow globe, and their movements were becoming more and more haggard as time wore on. Pelham took two cuts in the back before Dave grabbed him and dragged him outside the sphere’s blue aura, and both escaped its effects. The Herald’s troops didn’t give pursuit, obviously unwilling to leave the protective barrier, but circled back to protect Devin instead.

“You took out six last time in one of the narrow alleys. You gonna go for a repeat?” Ling asked. “Maybe I can help you get that count up to ten or fifteen.”

“Let’s try to kill them all. I’m not as weak as I was when we were corned last time,” Lee assured her. He had been training on the sands and getting power-leveled by Dave. There was no way he was going to get hurt as badly as he did before.

The first alley they came to was only about six feet wide and was framed on either side by two tall stone buildings. Rather than following them inside, however, the Herald’s troops bunched up at the entrance.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” Devin shouted. “Send a man to go gather some reinforcements. Tell them we need thirty or forty archers here as soon as possible.”

Lee gulped. Welp, there goes that plan. At least I’ve bought myself some time. He glanced ahead down the alley and found that it was a dead end. A quick look at the buildings on either side of the alley told him that he wasn’t going to find an escape route there either. Yeah, you picked the worst spot you could, Lee chided himself.

A soldier turned to relay the information as instructed, but before he even left the park, a series of arrows buried in his flesh, killing him on the spot.

Who in the heck? Lee was stunned. He didn’t expect that turn of events at all, and given the fact that Devin looked shaken for the first time since the skirmish began, the Firbolg Herald clearly didn’t either.

Your party has killed Viktor, Proclaimer of the Herald. Your party has been awarded 100 silver, 300 copper, a scroll and 721 Experience. Your share of this is 25 silver, 75 copper, a scroll and 180 Experience.

“What’s going on?” Devin shouted. “Who is there?! How dare you attack the messenger of the one true god’s own personal guard!”

“You should know by now,” a very recognizably-angry Firbolg voice yelled out so loudly that Lee would have been able to hear it easily without use of his golem’s ears. “Justice cares nothing of who you are. A poor beggar, a rich king, a foul deity--all will perish the same under my blade of justice!”

Ling sighed. “I knew he wouldn’t stay and guard that checkpoint.”

“Yeah . . .” In retrospect, Lee should have anticipated this. “I should have known too.”

Lee continued to use his mouse to watch as Miller and all thirty of his troops charged toward the Herald’s personal guard, stowing their bows and pulling out spears as they went. Lee signaled to Ling what his intentions were, letting her know he intended to escape the alley and join the fray himself.

Dave and Pelham, who had been watching the whole thing from afar, also started running around at full speed trying to reach the fight.

“Don’t think that you will win just because you have reinforcements!” Devin dropped the protective snow globe, crouched down and rested his hand against the ground. A moment later, a dozen twelve-foot-tall ice creatures sprang forth from the earth around him.

They were massive, broad-shouldered creatures with column-like arms and legs, and their appearance on the battlefield had an immediate effect. Miller’s group quavered, and their advance slowed as their confidence in an easy win was knocked down to belief in a probable loss.

“Form a line! Giant slayer formation!” Miller called out commands and shaped the battle as if he were a seasoned commander. “Right flank tilt! Back flank to arrows!” The troops split up into pairs along the front line, and the other half dropped back and pulled out their bows once again. “For Augustus!”

Lee, on the other hand, had a different idea. “Ling, I’m going to need you to join Miller. I have to go fight the Herald,” he said, looking at the wall of troops. Miller’s men hadn’t freed him from where he was in the alley and getting through them to reach the Herald was going to be a difficult feat, but if he didn’t, he feared the Herald and his posse of Ice Giants were going to slaughter everyone whom he had led so confidently into this fight.

Chapter 12

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 25

Health: 350/350

EXP: 30707/32500

Primary Stats:

Power 35 (36)

Toughness 35 (36)

Spirit 35 (36)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 25

Courage 20

Deceit 29

Intelligence 161 (169)

Honor 3

Faith 784

Personal Faith 242

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 8

Sneak Journeyman Level 2

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 3

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 10

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 4

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 3

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

The Great Deceiver

“How are you going to pull that off?” Ling asked as she looked at the wave of troops separating them. The enemies were no longer bunched up in a perfect wall in front of them but had spread out to incorporate the ice giants their Herald had summoned.

“Because we both know that, in a few seconds, it’ll be Miller time.” Lee began to laugh. He wasn’t laughing because the terrible reference he had made to a beer industry titan was particularly funny, but because he was nervous. There was a ball of knots in his stomach, and it seemed to tighten as he considered how deadly his plan would be if things didn’t work out just as he wanted. Still, he had some hope. His experience so far in this world had taught him a valuable lesson about his enemies: they were, on average, terrible drunks.

Yup. Lee took a deep breath after he finished laughing, trying to assuage his fears. They might be stronger and have racial bonuses that let them handle a lot of things I probably never could, but over half of them can’t hold their liquor at all.

“Miller time?” Ling asked, and then her eyes widened with understanding.

“Yep, Miller time.” Lee turned and patted her on the shoulder. It was obvious that the soldiers were just waiting to charge in, but the command hadn’t come down from the enemy Herald yet, so they were forced to wait. “I need you to run the creek to widen the banks then flow into the river.”

Ling nodded. “I can do that.”

“Look at you two,” the Herald called out so loudly that, even with all the noise from the ice beasts, the incoming people from Satterfield and the reorganizing of his own troops, Lee could hear every word as if the Herald were right next to him. “It’s so touching: a last moment between lovers before entering the abyss together.”

Lee winced. Lovers? Me and Ling? Don’t go throwing that title around so easily. Amber will kill us both! Their relationship was likely much more to her--and even to him--than that of close friends as he had previously told himself they were over and over again during his trip to the real world.

“Get ready to start the water flow,” Lee urged, edging down the alley and closer to the group of soldiers blocking the entrance while keeping an eye on both them and Miller. The closest enemy soldier kept looking back over his shoulder, trying to see if the Herald wanted him to lunge forward and kill Lee or maintain the blockade, but Devin did nothing. He just watched them with a smile.

“Miller, I could use a drink!” Lee shouted at his comrade, whose forward progress had gotten slower and slower as the confidence of his troops had broken.

Miller looked over at Lee’s position and then over at the golem Lee was using to watch everything as if he had known where it was all along. Miller nodded. “A drink? You think a drink will suffice? We’ll all need at least one drink of liquor for every unjust bastard we kill in Augustus’s name today!” Miller shouted back. Completely ignoring Devin’s numbers, the fact his own troops weren’t joining him and the giant ice demons that had crawled out of the ground, Miller charged forward alone and at full speed.

“Water! Now!” Lee shouted to Ling. She nodded and unleashed a stream of arrows to Lee’s left while running straight toward him. The soldiers she aimed for had turned and adjusted their shields at an angle so that they could stop any arrows that came from the Satterfield archers, and as a result, a couple of Ling’s deadly barbs struck their mark immediately. The leftmost soldier died from arrows in his eye and throat, and the remaining men hastily closed up their ranks in order to prevent the same feat from happening again. Ignoring Miller’s group, they all turned to halt Lee’s advance and Ling’s sudden onslaught.

Your party has killed Angus. Your party has been awarded 32 silver, 34 copper, a fine steel dagger and 788 Experience. Your share of this is 8 silver, 8 copper, a fine steel dagger and 197 Experience.

Ling immediately switched her focus to Lee’s right, but her sprint forward seemed to dramatically reduce her accuracy. A couple arrows took to the sky, shooting off into the distance, and the rest harmlessly bounced off of the soldiers’ shields. Still, the soldiers kept their shields up and in front of their bodies.

Then, with perfect timing, Miller’s shout hit. “IN THE NAME OF AUGUSTUS, I WILL SMITE YOU ALL!!” Miller shouted out so loudly that it momentarily drowned out the noise of battle as he let loose his drunken roar. The wave of inebriation slammed everyone in the area, and Lee’s senses altered as he felt his blood become imbued with the power of alcohol and his skills switched to their drunken counterparts.

The shield wall in front of Lee wavered, and one man took an arrow to the shoulder as he struggled to remain upright and hold his weapon and shield in place. A few seemed unaffected, but Lee was able to spot the weakest link in the chain: a soldier on the edge of the knot who had moved forward to fill in for his fallen comrade. Lee instantly changed his course to run straight into him. An ounce of luck is worth more than a pound of wisdom, is it?

It wasn’t more than a second later before Lee awkwardly slammed into the drunk with his own spiked shield, knocking the soldier back off of his feet and into the man behind him. Lee careened off and to the right, his momentum carrying him forward into the spear that was waiting for him. He came to a staggered halt as 22 damage was peeled away in a single blow, and he barely had enough time to dodge a downward slash that came from behind the spearman. He dipped and weaved to his left, but he was struck across his shoulder by a waiting blade for 28 damage.

Lee turned and stepped back, slashing out as hard as he could in a sweeping motion to try and push the enemies back, but his blow was blocked by the first shield he came in contact with. Come on! Make a little room, you bastards! Lee desperately repeated the action only to be blocked and stabbed at once more from all directions. Unable to react to every angle, all he could do was cringe back and watch as the blows rained down on him, chipping off 22, 28 and 26 hit points.

The group of soldiers collapsed in around him as they all shifted in the heat of battle, each trying to get in an attack since their spears allowed them to easily thrust their weapons through the mob. Lee’s Blood Shield seemed to move him with a mind of its own, twisting his arm around and blocking nearly half of the incoming thrusts so quickly that even he was surprised, and he only took 72 more damage.

It was at this point that Ling’s arrows began to really do their work. The man who had first struck Lee had turned to make sure his spear could easily pin right into Lee’s side, but he was killed instantly by an arrow through his ear. The drunk who had been knocked down was struck twice in his left shoulder, and the man behind him had his weapon rendered useless when an arrow pierced his hand and buried itself in the shaft of his spear, pinning them to each other.

Your party has killed Aidan. Your party has been awarded 44 silver, 27 copper, well-polished steel helmet, chainmail and 861 Experience. Your share of this is 8 silver, 8 copper, a fine steel dagger and 215 Experience.

The enemies recoiled from the flurry of arrows, backing up and trying to reform their line while adjusting their ranks to accommodate the fallen and wounded members. The shift away from Lee wasn’t much, only two feet, but it was enough for Ling to make an exit. She pressed herself against the wall, leapt over two dead bodies and darted straight toward Miller’s archery line. She was grazed in the arm while running but otherwise cleared past without trouble.

As per their code, Ling had successfully cleared a path so that they, the creek, could return to the river, or the main army, but Lee’s modified plan sent him running straight for the Herald. Rather than making a beeline toward Miller and the group from Satterfield, he took off through the line of ice giants. Thankfully, like most monsters, the brutes seemed to be even more vulnerable to the effects of Miller’s drunken shout than most of the soldiers. They struck out at him as he whizzed past, but their inebriated state prevented them from doing any real harm. Most of their attacks went wide, and he was easily able to turn aside those that were properly aimed. He broke through the pack a moment later, and as he suspected, he quickly realized that they were far too unsteady on their feet to give chase. Out of the entire group, only two were able to move in a straight line, and they were too occupied with Lee’s men to give chase. Unfortunately, Lee also noticed that most of the soldiers that had been blocking his egress from the alley were strung out behind him now.

Abandoning any hope of an offense altogether, Lee stored his sword and shield in his inventory as soon as he was out of spear range so that he could run at full speed unencumbered. The choice paid off, and he was quickly able to create some distance between himself and the men clunking along after him. Unfortunately, being unarmed also invited other problems.

The nearest drunk ice giant looked over at Lee woozily as he ran toward it, opened its mouth and forcefully blew out a spray of icicles. Lee dodged to the right as fast as he could, but the continued breath attack followed after him. The frozen shards were fairly small, close in size to a sewing needle, but he still took another 42 points of damage when the icy spray struck him in the face. It hurt like hell as the tiny, little shards dug into his exposed skin, and to make matters worse, he felt his face and shoulders go numb. His gait was throwing off by the unexpected change, and he struggled to pump his arms as he ran.

“No!! You can’t fight the Herald yourself!” Miller shouted when he saw where Lee was headed. Yet, despite his warning, Miller looked as if he was about to turn and run straight for Devin as well. “Men! Form the line and hold the enemy off! I will return for their blood!”

“Oh, you missed me that much?” Devin called out to Lee as he saw the pair running at him. “Have you come running toward your master for more advice on how to fight?”

Lee just pushed forward without responding to the verbal jabs. He dodged back and forth between the giants without bothering to stop or deal with them, weaving in between their frosty breath attacks when necessary, and he reached the blue sphere in short order. He hesitated for a brief instant as he debated whether or not he should push forward into the bubble but then plunged inside the snow globe without so much as slowing down.

He instinctively closed his eyes as he entered the sphere. He was assaulted by an icy blast as he passed through the barrier. The tiny shards of ice that had pricked his skin and left him numb mere moments before were nothing compared to the sudden frigidity he felt. Frost formed across his skin, his breath billowed out in a white cloud in front of him, and he felt his muscles constrict and slow as his sprint was slowed to what was little more than a brisk power walk. He had been expecting something of this sort after watching Pelham and Dave earlier, but it was still an extreme shock to his system nonetheless.

His mind had been working on overdrive ever since he realized that this was going to be a problem as he tried to figure out how he was going to counteract the effects of the frigid air, and now that he had plunged inside, he was only going to get a single shot to test out his theory. He began funneling his energy throughout his body as he would during a healing process, circulating his mana through his system. It was something he would have done anyway since he had sustained so much damage, but it was also the only thing he could come up with that might keep him alive. The healing effect was somewhat mitigated, and while he was only able to heal himself at a rate of between 17 and 18 hit points per second for a cost .5% of his mana per increment, his speed was also restored just as he had hope. The tingling sensation disappeared from his skin, and feeling began to return to his numb extremities as his own spiritual presence cut off Devin’s magic and blocked it from taking effect.

Devin’s guards were occupied with Pelham and Dave, who, upon seeing Lee approach, had re-entered the snow globe just before him, likely intending to cover his assault on Devin. They had already managed to get two kills while holding off the remaining enemies despite moving incredibly slowly. Their experience and combat prowess had overcome the handicap, and while they were no longer able to make headway, they were able to fend off their foes’ much faster attacks. Lee had never seen a flail used defensively, but its large two-handed handle intercepted opponents’ spears and diverted them as smoothly as if Dave were using a quarterstaff.

“I see you’re not as dumb as I thought,” Devin commented without showing any signs of fear as Lee closed the distance between them. “You took a risk at the expense of your own health to come straight at me. You likely think that the body will die if you cut off the head.” Devin bent over and extended his hand toward the earth, and before his hand even reached the ground, a small, blue sphere appeared. The glowing orb of energy expanded as it was withdrawn the ground, instantly shooting up and transforming into a much larger sphere of ice that was supported by a blue rod.

Lee felt his spine tingle with fear as he watched the ball of ice grow larger still. It changed shape in the blink of an eye, taking on the form of a giant icicle, and shot directly toward him. He dodged to the side as fast as he could, but the spike still struck him at a glancing angle for 12 damage. He was now back to 208 health despite the hit since he had been healing for four seconds, and he edged closer, thinking he’d have a clean shot at an unguarded target. Then the rod shot out a second shard of ice.

“Lee, DODGE LEFT!” Miller shouted from behind.

Lee dodged to the right instead of left like Miller had suggested, and something struck him square in the back as soon as he made his move. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but it hurt like hell as it slammed into him from behind and knocked him flat to the ground, dealing 55 damage in the process. It also shocked him so badly that it took a moment for him to gather his wits and begin healing again. Swapping to one of his golem’s eyes, he instantly saw what the problem was: one of Devin’s ice giants had dug down into the park’s ground, ripped out a chunk of earth, and then focused its frigid breath into its hands and the soil it held there, guaranteeing that the dirt was hardened into a single frozen clump.

“Get up! Move! Roll right!” Miller shouted, and this time, Lee followed the command without question. He rolled to his right and dodged an ice lance from Devin’s orb before standing up. He may have been able to use Ethan to see things clearly from a third person point of view, but it was hard to focus on such distinctly different sides of the fight at the same time without a small bit of lag between his mind reasoning out which way he should move and his motor skills executing the endeavor.

“Lee, don’t fight him! I must be the one to kill him!” Miller demanded as he finally reached Lee’s side, glancing backward constantly to monitor both the rod and the giant that was about to hurl another clump of frozen dirt at them.

“You can help, but this is my fight too,” Lee insisted. “We have to kill him as quickly as we can, or those people from Satterfield will die to the ice giants!”

“You don’t understand! You can’t be the one to kill him!” Miller warned, but Lee was too focused on the giant behind him and Devin in front of him to pay attention.

“It’s cute when an idiot rushes toward his own death!” Devin laughed and held out his hand to form another ice lance. This time, Lee was faced with two firing off in rapid succession from his front and the ice giant throwing his icy boulder at the same time from behind. He’d be struck no matter which direction he moved, so he did the one thing Devin probably didn’t expect: he tripped himself, falling face first into the dirt, and allowed all three attacks to pass by him.

Devin’s ice lances stuck into the frozen ground, but the ball of earth only slowed down a bit before continuing forward and striking Devin in his chest. The Herald went flying back several feet and landed flat his back with a loud grunt. The pulsing blue rod of ice was thrown from his grasp.

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” Devin complained as he pushed himself up. “Oh, well. Live and learn. I’ll make sure to angle that better the next time I’m forced to fight a Herald.”

“I don’t think there will be a next time,” Lee said. The fall had caused him to take 9 points of damage again, but it was negligible with the rate he was healing.

“I think so.” Devin looked over at Miller, who was pushing toward the Firbolg Herald and fighting against the effects of the snow globe. “After all, if it’s one on one, you won’t be able to win.” Devin smiled and then raised his hand. The entire snow globe vanished, but everyone inside of it other than Devin and Lee was covered in the same thin, blue, pulsing energy that had created the rod earlier. Miller, Dave, Pelham, and Devin’s 3 remaining guards as well were frozen solid where they stood.

“You know this won’t end well for you,” Lee promised. He hefted his sword and shield and charged.

Devin took out his own weapon, a simple ice cudgel that he held in his right hand and stood waiting. Lee used his spike-covered shield to block a swing that was aimed at his head, deflected the blow away and struck out with a horizontal slash of his own toward Devin’s gut.

Devin set his jaw and grimaced but didn’t dodge like Lee had hoped. Instead, he stepped forward into the attack, making sure the blow ripped into his side. It didn’t do enough damage to kill him, but it struck a vital point and dealt a significant amount of damage. Blood spurted from the wound, yet Devin remained calm.

Lee froze in horror as he realized what had happened. He had struck Devin, Devin was bleeding, Devin’s own attack had been deflected, and yet Lee’s health bar was suddenly missing a huge chunk as 95 points were stripped away. He looked down at his side and saw that he was sporting a large, open wound that was identical to Devin’s and that he was bleeding out at a rate of 2 hit points every 3 seconds.

“What in the . . .?” Lee was suddenly at a loss for words as he looked back and forth between his own injury and Devin’s.

“Lee!” Miller shouted. “You can’t be the one to kill him! I have to! Whoever kills that bastard will die with him!”

“He’s right, but he’s wrong. You see? You can’t win. I might not be the better fighter. I’ll cede that to you. I’ve entertained myself greatly by watching you in the arena, and I have no doubt as to your skills. You’re a master of clever combat. What you lack in strength, you have supplemented with wit, and I admit that I would lose in straight combat. However”--Devin looked over at Miller who was raging behind Lee--“you don’t have the hit points to defeat me. I’ll always win, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“What . . . What are you saying?” Lee had trouble believing what he was hearing and lashed out with another sword strike. He kept this one shallow and used the flat of the blade to strike at Devin’s arm instead. The blade only served as an extension of Lee’s arm without using the edge, and it would deal the same amount of damage as if Lee had punched Devin in the arm. He didn’t know the extent of Devin’s powers, but he knew that there had to be a mechanic that he could exploit if he could get a better understanding of it. At the very least, he wanted to prove whether or not Devin’s claims were true. Sure enough, Lee took 21 damage as the sword hit.

Devin simply shrugged. “Satisfied? You can try again if you like. The outcome of this fight has already been determined: you’ve lost. Now, let me beat you to death so that I can get on with my day.”

Lee’s face sunk along with his hopes. He had thought that he would be guaranteed victory as long as he engaged the smarmy, unskilled fool in man-to-man combat, but he was in an even worse situation now than before. His forces were likely going to fall to the ice giants that Devin had made, his friends were going to be rendered helpless by the magical blue aura, and he was facing death-by-feedback-damage if he tried to kill the Herald.

Lee took a deep breath and looked at his health bar. “Able to return any damage taken instantly to the attacker . . . What a neat skill. It suits someone who is actually the Herald of the Goddess of Grudges. But you forgot something . . .” Without the blue sphere slowing down his rate of healing, his mana was able to quickly recover his wounds. In no time, all of the spear wounds and ice needle damage to his face had healed up, and he was almost fully recovered. “I can heal. Can you?”

Devin didn’t say anything, but his eyes remained focused on Lee’s wound. Sensing something was off, Lee looked down at first the injury and then his health bar. All of his other cuts and scrapes had closed up, but the large gash on his side remained. It wouldn’t close up no matter how much mana he tried to circulate around the injury, and his health bar stayed where it was.

“Still confident in that healing?” Devin asked as he watched Lee’s mouth open wide in confusion. “It’s a divine injury. It can’t be healed until I’m dead. You can keep trying all you like, but I’ve already tested the ability thoroughly. Knowing the extent of my own powers was the first thing I sought to learn, and you’re not the only healer in this world. Now, shall we finally end this?” Devin raised his cudgel and swung at Lee. The blow was much harder than the first, and it dealt 4 points of damage even as it bounced off of Lee’s shield.

“You’ve been plotting his death forever. You got any ideas?” Lee asked Miller as he backed up and dodged Devin’s second swing only to be forced to block the third and take another 4 points of damage.

“Once this ice wears off, just let me kill him. I’ll die with him if I have to, but his head is mine!” Miller shouted. “I will either die killing him or drink from his skull tonight!”

Vengeance blinded you so much that you never even considered telling your own allies what was going on, did you? You were so certain of your ability to barge into this fight and win before I could. Lee shot Miller a furious glare. If he had known about the Herald’s secret ability, he could have planned around it. If Miller had said something, he would have tried a better trap. No, even if I had known, we’d be here anyway. If I could have set a better trap, I would have. He wasn’t going to forgive Miller for the omission, but he couldn’t blame him for the current predicament either. This was a fight that needed to be fought one way or another and as soon as possible.

“Will you just stand still already? The sooner you and your people die, the sooner I can go to the battlefront and save this town from the invaders you brought to our doorstep.” Devin swung the cudgel at Lee again, this time bringing it straight down on Lee’s right shoulder and dealing 47 points of damage. Lee instantly healed the wound it left as the weapon was pulled away, but he knew it was only a matter of time before that trick ran out.

Lee winced and then looked at the Herald taunting him. He knew that he’d die along with the Herald if he attacked. The only way to defeat Devin would be to do a heavy, critical hit that would cause massive bleeding damage and then trust that the Herald would die after he did from the DOT effect.

“Augustus.” Lee suddenly called out to his deity, not bothering to keep the conversation private and in his head. “You can see everything, can’t you? You know where all the other Heralds are, but you just can’t tell me because of those damn rules, right?”

“Yeah . . ..” Augustus answered, dragging out the word for a few seconds. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just wondering: is there a Herald likely to win other than me? Someone that’ll be good for these people?” Lee asked the question candidly as he followed up Devin’s next attempt to strike him with a jab by pushing the cudgel away and stabbing his blade into the enemy Herald’s undefended gut for over 65 points of damage. He started taking bleeding damage again, and now both he and Devin were losing 10 hit points every 5 seconds.

Devin’s eyes started to show fear as he looked at the place where Lee had cut him and then back at Lee. “What are you doing?”

“Yeah, there are a bunch of great Heralds and gods out there besides you and me. There is one just a few towns over, Herald for a goddess named Mary. She’s a great girl. These people will be fine,” Augustus answered, his voice unexpectedly calm given Lee’s train of thought. “Trust me, Lee. They’ll be fine. It’ll all work itself out after he’s dead.”

Lee didn’t know why Augustus was so okay with this decision, but it stripped away the last vestige of hesitation he held on to. This suicide meant that Augustus would die, and if even that self-serving, often incredibly-egotistical deity was willing to die for the greater good, he had no room to back out either. One death for the sake of many. One life to protect hundreds. If he didn’t do this, then the world might very well be shaped by this Herald, by his cruel Goddess of Ice and Grudges, and that was something that he couldn’t allow.

“Thank you. I needed that,” Lee said as he advanced toward the Herald, preparing the final set of blows that would hopefully deal enough bleeding damage to ensure both of their deaths. “Thanks, Augustus. It’s been . . . It’s been oddly fun in its own sort of way.”

“No!” Miller and Devin both shouted at the same time for vastly different reasons.

“Devin, I thought you were smart. I thought you knew me. Shouldn’t you have already planned for this possibility?” Lee asked as he eyed Devin’s neck. An overkill to the throat should do the trick . . . He tried to steady his nerves and prepare for what was, without a doubt, suicide. The bleeding damage should be--

But before he could even move his sword, Devin’s already shocked eyes bugged out and popped open even wider, and his mouth hung askew as he spat out a mouthful of blood. The Firbolg staggered forward a single step and then fell to the ground, two familiar glass daggers protruding from his back. The twin blades had pierced through his ribcage and found a vital organ, guaranteeing his death from critical hits.

Lee’s eyes jumped from the daggers in Devin’s back to the person who had put them there. Amber stumbled back several steps before collapsing as well.

“No!” Lee jumped over Devin’s body and rushed to her side. “No, no, no, no! That was supposed to be me. It was supposed to be me who died with him!” he cried, wrapping her body up into his arms and clutching her as tightly as he could.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly with a weak smile. Her eyes were watery and bloodshot as she stared up at him. “I guess Miller wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait for orders.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be fine. I’ve got this,” Lee flooded his mana into her, but the healing magic was rejected, and he was wracked with excruciating pain as the spurned spirit rushed back into him. He had used nearly twenty percent on the first shot, and the pain of having it returned far exceeded any wound he had taken during the battle. Still, he tried again with thirty percent. “It’s going to be fine.” He choked out the promise with a shaky voice.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Amber said. “I am going to die, Lee. I can feel it. Before I do . . .” She lifted a hand to Lee’s cheek, trying to draw his eyes to hers.

"No, you’re not going to die.” Lee shuddered under the pain of his efforts, his entire concentration devoted to keeping Amber alive. “You're gonna be okay. Just hang in there!" Lee used his entire spirit bar to try and heal her. He was praying that the divine injuries’ resistance to healing was just a barrier he could break through, but when the massive psychological feedback pain rolled over him, he knew it was hopeless.

"Lee," Amber said, stopping him. "Before I die, I need you to know something: I'm happy that I loved you." Despite her injuries and the lingering cold, she spoke with strength and certainty in her voice. She reached up with one hand, grabbed his collar, and used it to pull herself up and into a kiss.

Lee embraced the kiss and held it as long as he could before she let go. Her head rolled back lifelessly, and her body sagged in his arms. “No, no, no, no! This can’t . . . Please don’t . . . Augustus! Augustus, please! Don’t let her die. Augustus do something! Take her to my world. Take her there and heal her! Take her there and save her,” Lee begged, but he got no response back. It was just silence as he stared down at her through tear-filled eyes, unwilling to look away.

“I’m sorry,” Devin said from behind him after a minute. “I’d have bled out quicker for you if I could have. Then you could have healed her, and she might have lived, but . . . no sharp objects on me.”

Lee turned to find the man lying in a pool of his own blood, but he turned back to Amber, ignoring the Herald altogether.

“For . . . what it’s worth . . . thank you,” the fallen Herald said, uttering his last words and then fading from life.

You have killed Devin, Herald of the Goddess of Ice. Your party has received a world stone fragment, a child’s pacifier, 1000 gold and 12000 Experience. Your share of this is a world stone fragment, 334 gold and 4000 Experience.

You have absorbed a fragment of the world stone. All of your primary attributes will receive a 5% passive boost. Your intelligence will also receive a 5% passive increase.

Divinity Power: Life in Death activated.

You have reached Level 26! Your level increase has boosted all primary stats by 1. Your current Power, Toughness and Spirit have been adjusted to 36. You are 33999 Experience away from Level 27.

You have defeated the Herald of the Goddess of Ice. As the slayer of a Herald, all of his excess faith shall be awarded to the god you serve. You have also been granted the final boon of a now-dead goddess: Bowl of the Ice Queen’s Pudding. When consumed, this chilled dessert will give a massive percent-based increase to the Power and Toughness of the one who ate the most of it.

“Lee.” Ling’s voice broke the sudden silence that had fallen on the park.

Lee looked up and saw General Brigid leading a band of around a hundred soldiers into the square. He didn’t know when she had left the main hole in the wall that the dragons had opened to circle around the fortifications and discover the undefended gate, but she had enough people to easily mow down whatever stragglers were left over. Her eyes met Lee’s, and she stopped cold, holding his gaze for a moment. Her eyes darted from him to the corpse he was holding and then back to him again.

She raised her sword, stopping all the troops behind her with one gesture, and examined the battlefield. Lee hadn’t been paying attention to anything else since his fight with Devin had begun, and the once-beautiful square wasn’t a pretty sight. Over a third of his people from Satterfield lay dead, either covered in ice needles from the giants or from countless spear wounds. Devin’s own men had roughly been cut in half, and those left didn’t seem to be in top fighting shape. She looked back at Lee, staring at him for a good minute while her men waited to find out if she would order an attack. Without so much as a word, she only turned and left, likely realizing that she had only been used as a pawn in another’s war, her troops following behind her.

Both Devin and Lee’s men refrained from fighting, instead facing the invading army as if they were a united front. When the troops were finally gone, both groups looked at each other and then to Lee, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stayed put, holding onto Amber.

“Drop your weapons, fall to your knees and surrender. No one else has to die!” Ling ordered, and Devin’s former soldiers hastily complied. After their weapons were collected by the remaining people from Satterfield, Ling went over to where Miller, Dave and Pelham were standing and watching Lee quietly.

“Lee . . .” Ling knelt down next to him, hugging him from behind. “I’m here for you,” she said.

Lee didn’t acknowledge her. He collected himself and stood up with Ling, wiping his eyes dry before turning to see the enemies he had fought kneeling down on the ground with their hands up. They were watching his every movement.

“We won,” Dave said. “I never thought I’d live to see that bastard die, but here we stand.”

Miller came over and grabbed Lee into a massive bear hug, one that nearly broke his back in the process. “Tonight, before we drink our victory, we’ll drink for Amber.”

“We’ll drink for Kate. We’ll drink for everyone who died today,” Lee answered back when Miller’s hug loosened, and he could breathe again. He then turned to his troops. “Tonight, we’ll drink for those we lost, and tomorrow, we’ll drink for the hope they sacrificed themselves defending. So many good people died today, and so many beautiful futures were lost, but what we’ve accomplished will save so many more. I want Augustus to bring them back, but he promises that they’re in a better place now . . . as hard as that is to accept. The only thing we can do now is build upon our victory. All we can do is make the most of the lives they protected and honor them with our deeds and actions. The man we killed today, the man they risked everything to destroy, hated Humans to his very bones. So long as he lived, we would never have been safe, and we would have one day been wiped from this world. It is no exaggeration or small statement when I say that they died so that we could live. We owe them everything, and we must strive every day hereafter to show them the value of what they safeguarded.”

Lee took a deep breath when he was finished with the speech and looked over at Miller. It was hard to control his breathing. He was torn up about what had happened, but he knew this conversation wasn’t one he could put off. As great as his sorrow was at losing Amber, arguably the person he loved most in this world, his rage at Miller’s deceit was there in equal quantities. But he had to swallow it. Some part of his heart might curse Miller till the day he died for not telling him what Devin could do, but the rational part of his brain knew better. He could only imagine what Miller felt after losing someone he had loved for years if he felt this way after losing someone he had known for such a short period of time--and to a much harsher betrayal. It left his emotions so twisted since he wanted to hate Miller, but knew he shouldn’t, and because he wanted to forgive Miller, but couldn’t.

“Lee, I’m--” Miller started, but Lee stopped him cold.

“We’ll drink tonight as brothers who lost women to the same goddess,” Lee said, suppressing his wrath with all his might but not letting it go. It was the only thing that was preventing him from breaking down at the moment. “But,” he continued in a voice so soft that the troops couldn’t hear him, “tomorrow, I don’t want to see you. I’ll need some time.”

Miller, who usually argued with Lee about anything he didn’t like, just nodded.

Then, not exactly knowing what he was doing, Lee emptied all of the sand from his inventory onto the ground in front of him. He had gathered a good chunk of it from a creek bed on the way back to Kirshtein, hoping to make it into glass knives he could give Amber, but he was just unloading it onto the ground now. He closed his eyes and reached out with his spirit, infusing the sand with his mana, with his soul, and recounted the last loving smile that Amber had given him as he lay dying. He gave the sand his everything, and when he opened his eyes, she was there again, immortalized in a beautiful glass statue.

The glass face was every bit as loving as he knew the real-life counterpart had been. He had made the statue so that she was standing atop a burgeoning wave as she looked down on them in a ballroom gown. Then, influenced by his thoughts of her and his own world, he had given her a set of wings. She was the woman he had rescued from servitude, but she was the angel that had saved him, and for that, he felt that even the angelic grace he had given her statue wasn’t enough. Satisfied as best he could be with the work, but not being able to look at it, he picked up her corpse and began to walk away.

“Lee, don’t you need to settle accounts with Connacht? They’re going to expect you to be here when they finish handling the wounded in Kirshtein,” Ling said hesitantly.

“Let them,” Lee responded as he clutched the body tighter and walked away. “They can expect whatever they want. Tonight, I’m taking her home, and anyone who wants to bury their dead too can follow me. Until I get her back to Satterfield, politics can wait. Connacht can wait. They let a monster exist within their walls for so long and grow so strong that she had to die for them.” Lee paused, trying to control his temper. “I don’t care what happens to them at the moment.”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Miller volunteered and then turned to the people. “If you’re taking bodies back to be buried, you should go now with him. If you’re staying, I know a bar that welcomes anyone who serves Augustus like brothers. We’ll sleep there tonight.”

Ling’s eyes passed back and forth between Lee and Miller, and then she followed after Lee. She didn’t say anything the entire trip back to Satterfield. She just stayed quietly by Lee’s side as he carried Amber.

-----

When night came, Augustus returned with it. “You’re awake.” It was more of an observation than a question since the drunken god likely knew he was unable to sleep.

“I am,” Lee answered. He had been staring at the empty spot next to him that was typically occupied by Amber. No bed had never felt so alone, so unfriendly, and so uninviting and empty as it did now.

“Are you going to be alright?” Augustus asked.

“I don’t know,” Lee answered honestly.

“I know it’s hard to hear,” Augustus began, “but it’s going to be okay for Amber. Non-player souls don’t die. She didn’t really die in this contest. After things are over, I’ll make sure to find it. I’ll make sure her soul finds a new body and a better life in a world without these hardships.”

Lee laughed silently, his chest rising and falling with the laughter. He closed his eyes and squeezed them shut to stop a tear from forming. “You’re going to feed me those same lies I gave them? You’re going to trick me like I did those people from Satterfield? To comfort me with the story of my pet going to a farm upstate? We both know better. I know better. There is no afterlife that you’re in charge of, Augustus. She’s just dead. She’s dead, it’s my fault, and there is nothing I can ever do to fix that.” The thought of his actions, his hesitation to kill the Herald--it ate him up. The fact that he had to tell the same lie Augustus was feeding him now to those people in Satterfield was just one more dagger among many that had wedged itself in his gut.

“You don’t have to believe me, but I’ll still help her. I’ll save her soul and give her a happy life. Not just for you, but for her,” Augustus promised. “You can rest easy knowing that.”

Lee sighed as he rolled over, turning his back away from the empty spot that Amber’s absence left. He felt betrayed. Augustus was feeding him these lies--lies he was certain were only being told out of goodwill to comfort him--but he felt worse for the fact that he wanted to believe them. In his heart, he had already accepted what Augustus has said. Like water in a desert, his heart swallowed it whole without worrying about where it came from or what the price was, and his mind agonized over his gullibility and the fact that, deep down, he knew it was a lie--a lie he couldn’t stop himself from believing.

It didn’t take much longer to reach Satterfield and bury Amber’s body properly next to some of the others who had died in Kirshtein. The townsfolk erected a memorial for those who had left and didn’t come back, and while the newly-built remembrance wasn’t much, a small obelisk that Lee had helped them craft with the names of the fallen etched across it, it was the best they could do and more than Lee asked of them. He was grateful that they didn’t demand more from him, and he was grateful that Ling stayed with him during the whole process. She was always there, willing to help with everything he needed before he even asked. She made his meals, poured his beers and silently watched as he grieved--not that Lee had said a word to anyone but Augustus since leaving Kirshtein--remaining just as quiet as Amber had been prior to their adventures with the Cragaboom.

The messenger Connacht had used to keep tabs on Lee showed up at Ramon’s bar the same night. “You’ve got bad timing,” Lee said as he saw the man approach him. “I’ll return soon. For now, please let me rest.”

“I have a message for you,” Connacht’s man said, extending a scroll. “You need to return sooner than you’d like. There is a meeting between the houses to discuss the battle. The nobility’s infrastructure is crumbling after the death of the lead house’s champion, and we could use your presence to fortify our position. Connacht sends his apologies, but Kirshtein is still in chaos, and the people still need your services.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “My services? I just get people killed. Or haven’t you heard? Are you hoping I’ll kill off someone else? Did you want me to get Connacht killed?”

The man didn’t even blink at Lee’s words. “Without religion, there is no stability. With their Herald dead, there is a hole in the city government that the members of the council will soon fill. There are other religions, ones easier for the state to control, but we think it is in both your and Connacht’s interests to represent Augustus in the coming debates. You are best prepared to represent Humanity in the decision concerning how to handle the aggressors that attacked our city yesterday.”

“You mean the ones we brought to attack that city?”

“Yes, those people. Their general will surely not be done with us, and we are worried they will take this deceit as an act of war against them. We are not confident that Kirshtein can survive a full-scale war at the moment, especially considering the power Brigid of Kildare represents, and the council is desperate for leadership. Connacht feels this is a good chance for you to assert yourself further in Kirshtein.”

Lee looked down at the drink in front of him, his fourteenth of the day. “I’ll think about it.”

“Sir, I think you really--” The man tried to press his point further, but Ling jumped between him and Lee, drawing her sword.

“He is done speaking with you,” she said coldly, holding her blade level with the man’s neck. “I think it would be best if you left right now.”

The messenger hesitated, but seeing the determination on Ling’s face, he turned around and departed.

“Thank you, Ling,” Lee said, getting up and returning to his bedroom. His morose mood had left him short of sleep, and the man’s pestering had taken away the little energy he had left for the day. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She followed him up the stairs, opened the door for him, and then, when he went inside, she gave him a look he didn’t quite understand. She stood there, her gaze flickering back and forth between him and the bed, chewing on her lip.

What is she thinking?

“Would you . . . like me to sleep with you tonight? So that you don’t feel alone?” she asked, going from her awkward lip bite to a frown to a deep breath.

Oh, would I like you to try and take Amber’s place? Lee interpreted the sentence in his head. “No, I think I’m okay,” he said. “I need to talk to Augustus anyway.”

“Okay.” She nodded a few times, looking defeated as she shut the door behind her and left for the night.

“You needed to talk to me?” Augustus’s voice appeared in his head. “Do we have more to discuss? I thought you were doing that whole lugubrious moping thing, and I was just gonna leave you be until you got it out of your system.”

“Got it out of my system?”

“What? Don’t act like you’re special,” Augustus said in a condescending tone. “You think others haven’t lost loved ones? Haven’t lost family members? We all have. But as hard as it is to come to terms with the loss, we all move on. I should have just let you figure this out on your own, but if you’re going to mope around at the expense of Satterfield and Kirshtein, I’m going to have to step in. I’m sorry that I have to do this.”

“Do what?” Lee asked, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he already knew the answer: he was being warped back to the real world.

Epilogue

Name: Lee

Race: Human

Class: Herald - None

Level: 26

Health: 360/360

EXP: 3001/37000

Primary Stats:

Power 36 (39)

Toughness 36 (39)

Spirit 36 (39)

Secondary Stats:

Charisma 25

Courage 20

Deceit 26

Intelligence 161 (177)

Honor 3

Faith 32721

Personal Faith 233

Skills:

Unarmed Combat Initiate Level 7

Swordplay Novice Level 8

Sneak Journeyman Level 2

Cooking Initiate Level 7

Trap Detection Initiate Level 6

Knife Combat Initiate Level 8

Mental Fortitude Initiate Level 1

Sleight of Hand Initiate Level 3

Blood Shield Initiate Level 3

Glass Smithing Initiate Level 10

Divine Skills:

Golem Sculpting Journeyman Level 1

Appreciative Drunk Novice Level 8

Nectar of the Gods Initiate Level 4

Spirit Smithing Initiate Level 3

Faith Healing

Divinity Powers:

Life in Death

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter

The Great Deceiver

Normally, after sleeping on bed rolls in the woods and on tarps for so long, Lee would have welcomed the transition back to his home with his finest-thread-count sheets. He’d have embraced the air conditioning for all of its glorious pleasure. But it all felt empty. The people of Satterfield may have been used to death, and he may have even seen a good number of innocents die before, but Amber was his first real loss. After so many years living one of the safest lives a man could imagine, Lee had never experienced the loss of a lover, close friend or even a close relative. That was half of the reason Amber’s death hit him so hard. He wasn’t ready to watch the world move on without her, and he wasn’t ready to have fun like nothing had happened.

“Real funny, Augustus,” Lee griped, getting out of bed and heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer.

“Who is Augustus?” a peppy voice answered him as he opened the door. “And was the joke actually funny enough to share?”

It was Masha. When did I give her a key? Lee looked at her and then to the keychain behind her on his table, and he knew the answer. It was Wolfe, wasn’t it? He gave her his key to mess with me. This is his way of showing me that he’s still sore about the multiple languages and magic thing.

“Oh, he’s a guy at the laundromat. I had him clean one of my shirts, and he left a jab at me on one of the tags,” Lee said as he walked into the kitchen and went for the beer.

“Umm . . .” Masha paused and stood frozen, staring at Lee.

“What? You want one too?” Lee asked, bending back over to grab another beer from the bottom shelf of the fridge.

“No, I mean . . . Yes, I’d like . . . I actually need a beer now, but”--she bit her lip and turned her head away--“I think . . . Even if you don’t like the joke he tagged on your clothes, you should still wear some anyway.”

Lee glanced down and realized that he was completely naked. Ah, that’s right. I just transferred. Of course I wouldn’t have any clothes on. He offered up another curse for Augustus just in case all the other invectives he had thrown at the deity in the last ten minutes weren’t enough or somehow had managed not to reach him. “Yeah, just give me a minute first.” He sighed heavily and took a healthy drink from the beer without moving.

“Take your time,” Masha said, but she still didn’t turn around to look in his direction.

“Hmm . . .” Lee studied her backside as he drank his beer, almost sullenly deciding to take her up on the offer to ‘take his time.’ As awkward as it used to be to bare all in front of another person, he had advanced quite a bit with Masha, and with all that had happened in the other world, with being around Amber, his sense of shame and propriety had faded.

“So . . .” Lee strolled back into his bedroom, carrying the beer with him as he went. He reemerged a few minutes later in his date-night finest: an oxford shirt and khakis, the ensemble that had defined much of his wardrobe since he started working in the corporate world. “What brings you over?”

“Oh.” Masha looked around for a moment. “Oh, umm . . . I just . . . I was on my way over to see Olga about brunch when I ran into Wolfe. He gave me the key you lent him, and he . . . He said you were hoping to actually ask me out somewhere, so . . .” Her cheeks flushed and she looked down, refusing to make eye contact. Even though he was fully dressed, she still couldn’t seem to bring her eyes to look at him. “I figured I’d just say yes to whatever you had planned instead. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun.”

Lee started considering what date he could possibly take Masha on in the middle of the morning, but before he could come up with an answer, she pressed on and kept talking.

“But! But if you wanted to do that lunch instead, Wolfe said he was taking Olga to the same place we ate at last time. We could still meet up with them if you like . . . If you want to do brunch, that is.”

Lee let out a sigh of relief. He had been thinking that Wolfe was still angry over the incident from before, but if he had been on his way over and just given her the key so he could take Olga out for brunch while encouraging Lee to get closer to Masha, then things weren’t as bad as he had initially believed.

“Not that we have to do either!” Masha interjected yet again. She must have interpreted his sigh of relief as a sign of disappointment. “I mean . . . Not if you don’t want to . . . We can, you know, instead . . .”

“Do brunch without them?” Lee offered, cutting off her rambling before it went too far. How is it that you had the guts to come into a man’s home this early in the morning and look at him naked, but you can’t properly ask him out? Lee chuckled at poor Masha’s expense. “I think it’s a good plan. In fact, we don’t even have to go out at all. We could just order desserts from every restaurant near us, have someone deliver some wine, and just skip leaving the apartment at all. In fact . . .” Lee looked both ways before leaning in closer as if he were about to tell her a secret of dire importance. “We could just take off our socks, plop ourselves down on that couch, watch terribly-awful romantic comedies while eating said desserts and drinking some delicious red wine. That sound okay to you?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “That sounds fine. That sounds good, actually. I like it.”

“Great, let’s just do that then,” Lee replied.

Masha had agreed to his plan cheerily enough, but Lee felt guilty about it nonetheless. She had wanted to go out and have fun, but he had just basically hijacked her into a day of moping over ice cream, wine and romcoms without telling her that was what he was doing. Plus, when he considered that it was because of another woman, he felt even worse. Still, he couldn’t blow her off--she was far too cute to do that--but he didn’t have the energy to go out and about and entertain her on a proper date.

Lee pulled out his phone, keyed up a few apps and began ordering a myriad of different treats for himself and Masha, making sure that he had enough so that he’d still have plenty extra when she left. As long as he was going to put in the effort today, he wanted to make sure that he didn’t have to do anything else tomorrow to acquire more.

An hour and a half later, Lee was cuddled up on the couch with Masha watching what Lee could only guess was the nineteenth attempt at recreating a movie from the fifties and milking it for all the nostalgia points Hollywood could harvest and eating the oddest flavor of ice cream he had ever seen: a strawberry rocky road with a hot fudge and peanut cover.

“You’re not talking much,” Masha said as she leaned against Lee.

“Mmm . . .” Lee looked over at her. “We’re watching a movie. Wouldn’t it be rude to interrupt?”

“Has that ever stopped you before? Even in the theaters, you still tease me during the movies,” Masha pointed out, rebuffing his defense.

“Ah, well . . .” Lee looked at the ice cream. “I’m also eating.”

“That hasn’t stopped you either,” she countered. “You talk more during movies and meals than you do during some walks.”

“Maybe I’m trying to learn manners,” Lee retorted.

“You haven’t laughed either,” Masha pressed. “Even at that ridiculous pun earlier . . . and you always laugh at bad puns.”

“Must have heard it before,” Lee deflected yet again.

“You look upset. You’re not frowning, but your expression matches my dad’s when he comes back from an important business trip. You just . . . You don’t have a serious job. I mean, not like his, you know?” Masha noted.

Lee set down his pint of ice cream and picked up the bottle of wine the two were sharing and took a large swig from it as he tried to come up with a way to change the topic. He much preferred the shy and bashful Masha from when she had first entered the apartment, the one who had trouble getting out so much as a single question, to the one who fired off nosey inquiries one after the other like a machine.

“Something bad happen?” she asked, posing yet another question without even so much as waiting for him to finish his drink. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lee looked down at her out of the corner of his eye. Well, you see, I kind of fell in love with another girl . . . Or, rather, I was kind of in love with her to begin with, but we weren’t an item . . . So, when I came back here, I fell in love with you too . . . And then, when I went back there, we sort of got super close only for me to watch her die as I held her in my arms, and her death was all because of a series of events I set in motion but couldn’t finish on my own.

“No, I don’t think I want to talk about it,” he sighed. There was no way to tell her about it and have her believe him, and even if she did, he didn’t think it would do anything more than hurt her. Plus, he didn’t want to put the effort into trying to explain it only to have her rebuke him. Amber was real, what he felt for her was real, and losing her had been real. He didn’t think he could handle having her tell him that she was just some imaginary, delusional, made-up fantasy.

To top it all off, he was already tired of thinking about it. He was tired of reliving it. Rehashing the entire fiasco was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He was ready to be through with the subject altogether, but if Lee stopped remembering her, then the part of his life that he had shared with her would fade away too. So, he was just stuck in a weird sort of mourning limbo.

Masha nuzzled herself back onto Lee’s side and said, “That’s fine then. We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.”

“You sure?” he asked. He wasn’t trying to bring the subject back up, but he wanted to know whether or not she was truly bothered by his refusal to open up to her or not.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m used to it anyway. My dad never talks about his problems, and neither does my mom. They’re both tight-tipped when it comes to their own issues, and I have learned to accept that there are just some things people don’t want to mention.”

Lee nodded to himself, happy with that answer but also a little curious. What exactly does her dad do? He considered it for a bit, but then just went back to eating his ice cream and watching poorly-written romcoms without ever asking.

Masha, for her part, just mumbled, “That’s right. You go back to watching the movie. These snugs are all mine.”

Masha’s behavior was so adorable that Lee feel even worse about the whole situation. He knew that he should trust her, that he should find some way to tell her about what was bothering him, but he just couldn’t. In the end, he simply wrapped an arm around her and enjoyed the fact that he wasn’t alone.

-----

Olga had apparently invited her own boyfriend to join the brunch with Wolfe, and the three of them ended up spending the entire day afterward at an arcade while waiting to see if she needed to escort Masha. That meant that it became Lee’s job to see Masha home once the day was over, and the two took their time as they strolled through the park-sized estate that was her home. Masha’s mother insisted on inviting Lee in for a proper meal. When Lee protested by telling her that he’d already eaten, Masha just harrumphed and asserted that “Ice cream, candy and chocolates do not count as a meal,” to which Lee couldn’t disagree, so he joined them for golubtsy and beef stroganoff--two great dishes that he enjoyed immensely but would probably never eat if he was in charge of the cooking.

Alexander stopped Lee from leaving after the meal, instead turning him toward the study. “You were quiet today,” he observed.

“It’s been a long day.” Lee answered with a noncommittal shrug. What is with this family and these questions?

“Perhaps the best way to finish it is with some vodka and a peaceful game of chess,” Alexander said while gesturing to the board he had already set up in his office.

“You know, if I keep spending the after-dinner parts of my trips here with you, Masha is going to start thinking I’m ignoring her,” Lee said, trying to evoke his daughter’s ire as an excuse to get out of the game.

“That’s nonsense. She has to clean up the kitchen for her mother anyway,” Alexander laughed. “After all, what’s the point of having children if you can’t put them to work, eh?”

“I hope this isn’t rude, but aren’t you well off enough to have someone else clean your kitchen?” Lee asked. The man had enough money to hire full-time bodyguards for his daughter, so how was hiring a maid or someone to clean the kitchen too costly?

Alexander nodded as he sat down in front of the board. “That I am. But there are some things you shouldn’t leave to others, and the handling of my food or where it is prepared are among them.”

“Then you probably don’t want to hear that I ordered all the food Masha and I ate together today,” Lee said as he sat down.

Alexander didn’t seem bothered as he poured himself and Lee a glass of vodka before setting the bottle next to the board. “She can choose her own paranoias.”

Alexander used one of his standard openings as he began the game of chess, and Lee started countering like he always did until Alexander suddenly, and without a reason Lee could see, changed up his playstyle and made a risky move that could potentially take Lee’s knight.

Lee leaned forward in his chair, looking over the board as he plotted out his next move against Masha’s father.

“You’ve been busy since we last played,” MD noted as he studied Lee.

“Maybe,” Lee responded as he moved a pawn forward to protect his knight. “You could say a few things happened.”

“You’ve been playing at strategy without me,” Alexander chuckled, advancing his bishop to put pressure on Lee’s knight. “It shows. Your thinking is different.”

“I don’t know if you’d call it strategy. Not exactly, anyway.” Lee sighed, thinking about the plans he had made and how they had actually played out as he castled his rook and king. “It felt too chaotic.”

“I understand.” Alexander nodded as he picked up a pawn, one that would easily allow him to move his queen farther onto the field. “Too often, the moves we make with our hands don’t translate to the board. The pieces we play hold more value than pawns, but they also hold more freedom. It makes things difficult, and it makes the sacrifices we must plan that much harder,” he continued, still gripping his chess piece.

“I don’t know if you could say that,” Lee answered. He had benefited from that freedom. Without Miller’s irrational rush for vengeance, Ling and Lee would have died, Miller would have had to retreat back to Satterfield and wait for Devin to kill everyone there, and Lee could only guess what would have happened to Amber, Dave and Pelham. “The king having faith in his pawns is as important as the pawns having faith in the king. Without that trust, there is no way for a king to maneuver through the chaos of an unpredictable board.”

Alexander looked at Lee with a pensive expression and then finally placed his pawn, giving his queen the breathing room that she needed to maneuver. “What you say is indeed true, but that much value given to your pawns will only make it all the more difficult to exchange them for victory when the time comes. With that attitude of mutual trust, of strong ties between pawn and king, will you be able to make the needed sacrifice to triumph and achieve dominion over the board?”

Lee knew what Alexander was asking him: would he be able to take away a life to protect the greater good? Would he be able to sacrifice soldiers in order to ensure that his conquest would be successful? It was the same question that he had asked of himself a thousand times after everything that had happened with Amber. It had occupied his mind for what felt like an eternity. Now, this old man had seen through his moral dilemma and was attacking the crux of the matter. Yet, without hesitation, he answered Alexander as he moved his pawn forward to block a bishop while leaving his knight undefended, exposed and certain to die.

Alexander knew Lee’s answer by the move. “Good, good. Heavy is the crown, and heavy is the cost to wear it. The pawn has the freedom of choice, but for a king, choices are just different sacrifices he must make.”

Lee thought about what Alexander said as he watched his piece get taken. Memories of Amber, the people he had shared drinks with who had died fighting with him in Kirshtein, even the men and women who had died during his first venture in the other world flooded his mind as he watched the board. “Yeah,” Lee answered quietly. He moved another piece and then picked up his glass of vodka from next to the board. “Every choice a leader makes is indeed a sacrifice.”

A dozen moves went by as Lee watched. His eyes were on the game, but his thoughts were in the other world.

Alexander frowned as he looked down at the pieces. “It seems you planned this game out.”

“Yes, I did,” Lee answered solemnly, moving his rook to checkmate Masha’s father.

Lee kept studying the board as if the game hadn’t ended. In his mind, there were no pieces. There was Satterfield, Kirshtein and the armies of General Brigid of Kildare, and he could see a thousand different ways in which each of them might perish.

But there is still much more to do, he told himself as he realized the price and scale of the wars to come.

-----

“That boy is drinking more than you these days,” Mary said as she stepped into Augustus’s room. Augustus had shifted to human form for his guest, but he still hadn’t stood up or taken his eyes off the monitors he was using to watch Lee.

“What can I say? He takes after his divine progenitor,” Augustus responded, taking a sip of his drink while watching Lee start a second game of chess.

“Does he?” Mary asked. She sat down at the table next to Augustus and said, “I seem to recall you reacting much more violently when--”

“Don’t!” Augustus yelled, his voice powerful and deep as if he were a raging lion.

The one word caused Mary to freeze, her body trembling in place as she dared not even breathe for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said, quickly apologizing as soon as she had collected her senses. She was then quiet for a time before attempting to restart the conversation. “It was just hard watching what happened to that boy.”

“Yes.” Augustus nodded. “You never forget the first one you lose.”

“So, what did you call me here for?” Mary asked. “If it’s about the item, I’ve already told my Herald to deliver it. She’s making her way there now, but it’ll be a while. They started pretty far apart.”

“I know how far away your Herald is. Lee’s lack of levels, experience and presence in the competition is your fault, so pardon me if I behave rashly should your Herald take too long to help him find an advantage in that world.” Augustus swiveled around, his eyes darting from the bank of screens to Mary.

His gaze caused goosebumps to rise across her skin, and she unconsciously began trembling again under his stare. He would normally take pleasure in producing this reaction in her, but he was still out of sorts after watching what happened in the game world. It had sparked long-forgotten memories of his own.

“I understand,” Mary answered quietly, a slight tremor in her voice. “She won’t delay. She’ll be with your Herald as soon as possible.”

Augustus nodded and then took a swig from a giant flask that instantly appeared in his hand. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I’d accept you dragging your feet. You can go now.”

Mary stood up, not bothering to argue with him. “Just . . .” She paused right as she was about to turn around and leave. “I just have to ask.”

“You’re curious again? Did it not turn out well enough for you the first time?” Augustus tried to stab her with her words, to warn her off the query he knew she had harbored since she saw his true visage.

“No, it’s only reinforced it. I have to know: Why did you join this competition? Why are you sending Lee through all of that? With your status, there is no reason you should have to duke it out for survival in these games like the rest of us gods. You’re . . . You’re you. You’re--”

“Because I want to,” Augustus said forcefully, interjecting before she could finish. He didn’t like hearing his title any more than he liked others saying it. “Yes, I know I don’t have to join these competitions. Yet, here I am. This isn’t about me, though. It’s about him.” Augustus spun his chair around to face the monitors. “If you must know, the reason I joined this stupid battle royale is because of him.”

“Because of him?” Mary’s eyes flickered from Augustus to the monitor and signs of curiosity creased her brow. “Did you really have him join that death match for his sake? Do you really think that this was the best idea? I might very well die because you had him join, and even if he’s not the cause of my death, he’s already killed two other gods! And you claim that you’re doing this on a whim, for him?”

“Drink,” Augustus demanded. He raised his hand and a glass of the most divine-smelling alcohol in seven dimensions appeared in front of Mary. “Stay, drink, relax. You’ll be fine. He won’t kill your Herald.”

“How can you be certain? I didn’t think he could kill Deigha’s Herald either, but there she lies, her throne and worlds devoid of the goddess that governed them,” Mary argued, but she didn’t refuse his drink. It was already pressed to her lips, even as she finished speaking.

“I didn’t say he can’t kill your Herald. I said that he won’t. He’s a good kid, and he was worth the risk I took to send him there. He is my blood, and I have high hopes for him.”

“But what could you possibly gain from grooming him in that hellhole the other gods call a game?” Mary downed the glass only to watch it refill as soon as she set it down. With a heaving sigh, she picked it back up again. “If you are trying to raise him, and he’s not killing me, then you must be pushing him to seek the world stone. But . . . the only reason for someone to complete the world stone is . . .” Mary dropped the glass she had just retrieved, and it disappeared from the air before it could crash to the floor, magically appearing in Augustus’ hand in the same instant. “You’re not going to--”

“Yes,” Augustus interrupted, stopping her from voicing her epiphany. “That is exactly what I plan on doing. He will become the monster that eats away the rotten roots of the world tree, so to speak, and I won’t even have to encourage him to do it. He has my mind, so he will do it all on his own.” Augustus’s lips crooked up into a devilish smile as he took another sip from Mary’s glass before passing it back to her. Ironically, his action was synchronized with Lee drinking on screen.

Mary swallowed so hard that Augustus could hear it. “I think I need something stronger,” she replied, taking the glass and nervously spinning it around in her hand for a moment before taking another large drink. She watched as Augustus’s protégé played his innocent strategy game, suddenly taking as much interest in Lee and his every action as if there were a seasoned general of a thousand bloody battles lurking behind his distant-looking eyes.

Bonus Chapter 1: Miller’s Loss

Miller’s entire body went stiff when he heard screams coming from downstairs. They were the same ones he heard every night in his sleep, the hollowing pain that had haunted his dreams for a decade. The voice, even scratched and brutally echoing off of her vocal chords, was unmistakable. It belonged to Kate, his fiancée. He knew it was just a dream, he knew it wasn’t real, and he even knew what would happen next--but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t make himself stop. He vaulted out of his childhood bed and rushed downstairs. No matter how many times reason urged him not to, reminded him what happened next, his body moved as if compelled. He couldn’t stop his body from charging down the stairs like an angry bull.

He wanted to save her. He wanted to stop their brutality just one time. Even if it were in a dream, he felt that saving her would give him some small modicum of peace, and that might allow him to sleep through the rest of the night.

He froze as soon as he reached the last step. It wasn’t just the sight of his fiancée, the love of his life, grabbing and tearing at the floor as she was abused: it was the sight of who was doing it.

“My worthless son,” his father said, kicking Miller’s beloved before turning around to face him. “Out of all the wenches and worthless harlots in this town that you could have picked, you picked a human.” His father punctuated the word ‘human’ by spitting dramatically on the bleeding, gutted woman beside him.

“No . . .” Miller’s mouth moved, following the dream’s script to the letter. “No, why? Why did you . . . no . . .” His body, still growing even stiffer as his mind hazed over with anger, charged forward. He was the embodiment of the angry charging bull; and, just like the blind bull, he couldn’t dodge the matador’s stab. Pain shot through him as a knife lodged itself into his back before he had made it even two steps.

“Calm down, brother,” the dagger-holder chuckled into his ear. “We’re doing this for your own good.”

“My own good?! My own good?!” Miller raged despite the crippling pain as he did his best to pull himself forward. “I’ll kill you! I’m going to kill--” The knife dug in farther, preventing speech as it sank past skin and muscle.

“That runt of a brother of yours is right,” the old man laughed, kicking Miller’s dying fiancée again. “We’re doing this for your own good. This wench is just after our bloodline. A filthy lowborn like her, trying to crawl her way up through our name and blood. You were nothing more than a pawn in her scheme, and we’re saving you since you’re obviously too stupid and foolish to see what’s really been going on.”

Miller heard his father, but the meaning behind his words didn’t truly register. The only thing that he could focus on was the sound of his beloved sobbing, the strength already having left her as she stared up at him from the floor. He could see the wounds they had inflicted on her, each one slow and deliberate. He could feel the agony she had gone through as his eyes took in each and every gash and tear on her body.

“I . . . I will kill you all.” He forced the words and a mouthful of blood out of his body as a surge of strength roiled through him. He struggled forward, unhampered by either the blade in his back or his older brother, who chose that moment to attempt to pull him back and restrain him.

“Ah, there it is. The strength of a Herald, the blessings of a chosen one.” His father’s voice echoed in his head, but Miller wasn’t paying attention. “That’s what the whore was after. Show her what she almost had before she dies.” His father reached down and lifted Kate’s head, pressing a dagger to her throat. “You see that, darling? That’s for us, the chosen ones. Not you. Not your kind of rat, the disease that spreads through our lands like the vermin who carry it. Now, it’s time to say goodbye, isn’t it, little rat?”

Miller watched helplessly as his father slit Kate’s throat from ear to ear, instantly retreating through a window at his back. His father disappeared so quickly that he was gone before Miller could so much as utter a cry.

Miller rushed forward, pulling Kate up into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, stroking her face as the life slowly drained from her face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry . . .” He repeated the words over and over again, chanting them like a mantra. Her death was his fault. He had never expected this betrayal, and he had never thought that bringing her home would bring this horror upon them.

“I’m sorry!” He wept openly, cradling her head in his arms and ignoring the blood oozing from his back. His anger left him one tear at a time until he was filled with despair.

“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t leave me!” he pleaded, half with her, half with fate.

“Relax, brother. In the morning, you’ll have forgotten all about her,” the backstabbing runt said from behind, calloused arrogance seeping through every word.

Miller ignored him, refusing to let go of Kate’s now-lifeless body. He didn’t want to let go.

“Come on. Get up and leave that empty thing alone,” his brother said before spitting on her body as their father had done.

The taunting had been just enough to snap Miller back to the present. His depression ebbed back momentarily, and a wave of anger once more flooded the shores of his mind. His eyes went red, his muscles tightened, and he felt himself losing control. He stood and turned to face the sneaking coward who had betrayed him, the weak-hearted and cravenly creature who had assaulted him from the shadows.

Traitors, backstabbers, bastards . . . Cowards who will all die! Miller’s thirst for vengeance gave him purpose as he reached out and pushed his brother as hard as he could, sending the thin, scrawny man into the wall.

“Fine, get it out of your system,” his brother taunted, misunderstanding Miller’s intentions. “But I’m not going to take a beating so easily. I’m still your better in a fight!” He laughed, wiping a little blood off of his lips as if it were an action movie before standing up and raising his hands to defend himself.

Miller ignored his brother’s defensive posture. He reached out, grabbed the man’s forearms and pulled in opposite directions as hard as he could. He heard the sound of ligaments pop as his brother’s shoulders were dislocated. His brother screamed, and Miller ignored that as well. “You and he did worse to her. You did worse, so you must suffer worse. You must feel what she felt. You must understand her pain.” He dropped his brother’s squirming body to the ground before reaching behind him with one massive hand and ripping the knife from his back. “I will teach you her pain, but you will never know how much your betrayal has hurt me.”

“Stop!” his brother cried. “Stop it! Please, stop! We were just trying to help you! She was a parasite! She was only ever after your bloodline, your blessings!”

His voice was pleading, and for a single brief moment, Miller wavered. A thousand memories of his brother helping him and being there for him as he grew up came rushing through his head as he contemplated where to stab the bastard first.

“Stop that this instance,” a feminine voice called out, penetrating the blood-filled room. “They did it because I told them to. They did it because I didn’t want my gift to be passed on to the mutt child of a human.”

Miller didn’t recognize the voice, but the gravitas gave it away instantly. It was Deigha, the Goddess of Ice. She was the benefactor of Firbolgs everywhere in Farann. She was also his ancestor.

“Put down the knife and come with me. I need a Herald in the upcoming war, and now that you aren’t encumbered by that trash, now that you’ve proven your strength, you’re perfect for the job,” Deigha reasoned.

“You . . . You had her killed?” Miller asked, feeling yet another pang of betrayal. “You had them kill her, and you want me to work for you?” He could feel his face heating up and his heart beating faster as he took in what was said to him. “For blood? For stupid blood?!” In one swift motion, he took the knife in his hand and stabbed it right into the middle of his brother’s face, splitting his nose in two as it crushed through cartilage and bone. His brother blinked, not even registering his own death, and Miller released his grip on the knife, leaving it firmly lodged in his brother’s face. He dug his thumbs into his brother’s eye sockets a moment later, clenching his fingers around the man’s head and squeezing with all of his strength. The sickening crack of bone slowly shattering filtered out through screams of pain as Miller slowly ripped the man’s skull in two with the immense power his rage had given him.

“Calm down and listen to reason!” the goddess chided as if he were a child, her voice somewhere between impatient and disbelieving.

“Did you have them torture her too? Did you have them take their time as well?” he asked, discarding the broken head as he tossed the corpse to the ground.

The goddess didn’t back down from her position at all. “I told them to dispose of trash like it is trash,” she answered.

“Then I want you to know that I will join your stupid game. I will find my way in, and I will find your Herald, whomever you choose. I will find the bastard, and I will dispose of trash like it is trash,” he finished, spitting on his brother’s corpse before storming out the house. He left his home, penniless, destitute and with only anger to fuel him.

If she is the Goddess of Ice, then I will find a God of Fire. If there isn’t one, then I will become one. I will make one, and I will burn her evil from the world.

“Miller,” another voice called to him as his dream morphed into an empty, white room. “Miller, it’s okay,” the voice said. It was his fiancée’s. She stood before him in a white wedding dress, her red hair cascading out behind her like a flame in the wind, always a vision of beauty. “It’s okay, Miller. Augustus has taken me to somewhere better than Farann ever was--a place where we can be together one day again. Everything will be better. Everything is fine now.”

“Yeah, Miller.” Lee appeared beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be okay. We’ll kill all the traitors together. We’ll burn them all.”

Miller turned to face Lee, and then the images faded altogether as he jolted upright in bed. It was only a dream. It was only a dream. He took several large breaths, trying to calm his still-rapidly-beating heart. No matter how many times he experienced and relieved that memory, it had always been the same dream. It was only since he had met Lee and read the Book of Augustus that anything had changed. When he saw that blank canvas, not a single commandment or scripture on how one should act, he knew he had found what he was looking for: clay that he could mold. He had made his God of Fire, and he was now going to burn the world clear of that icy contagion who had taken everything he loved.

Herald of Deigha, you and my father--I will find you both again, he thought, equipping his spear and readying his armor. Except next time, you won’t get the better of me.

Game Manual

The War Aeternus Tutorial:

Only read before actually playing the game if you absolutely must, as all tutorials to true gamers are considered spoilers, and as such, caution is advised.

Character Stats:

Accuracy: Allows one to land projectiles. This stat impacts archery and bow related skills in a multiplicative fashion.

Charisma: Each point of charisma increases the user’s likability by 1% and reduces market prices when buying or selling by .25% where applicable. Note, shopkeepers will not take a loss when trading no matter how high a user’s Charisma is.

Concentration: Allows one to better cast spells in combat without being interrupted.

Coordination: The game designers lack this attribute in real life, but we felt the need to include it because people say it is important for combat.

Courage: Each point of Courage improves pain tolerance by 1% and reduces the likelihood of being influenced by a fear-based attack by 1%. (Chapter 2)

Deceit: Deceit improves the likelihood of successfully lying to others.

Faith: Each point of Faith the user has increases the ability of their deity to affect the world and increases the chance of their deity interfering on their behalf. As the Faith stat increases, physical characteristics and appearance may change. Faith also increases the chance for the user to resist curses.

Intelligence: So, Intelligence isn’t just for learning skills faster. It seems you can’t even learn or use certain skills without it. (C3)

Reflex: This is a hidden stat, that allows one to be better at reacting to things. Like ping pong.

Spirit: This stat’s effects are not allowed to be discussed with users, for fear that we will be unable to create deus-ex-machina mechanics in future game editions.

Power: Each point of Power increases damage by 1 point.

Toughness: Each point of Toughness increases hit points by 10. The fact this stat is here is silly, since it’s redundant and hit point alone should be included, but then the status messages in War of Eternity would have to include a separate line from hit points and primary stats, and that is more effort than we, the game designers, wanted to put in. We’re that lazy.

These Stats can be impacted by status effects. Some of the effects are vague and vary more than others.

Here are some example effects that could negatively impact one’s character sheet.

Inebriation (Penalty) - Inebriation causes the player to lose 50% of their intelligence, 30% of their coordination and 30% of their reflex stats.

Fatigue (Penalty) - Running all day can have its downsides.

Known Characters:

Alexander: Masha’s father and a rather mysterious man. He is skilled at many things, but mostly just embarrassing his daughter so much that she has developed the ultimate thick skin against lame dad jokes and awful, cringey comments.

Arand: Top fighter of house Alastar who went missing before the challenge. Drugged with sleeping agents, kidnapped from his own home and shipped off to a nearby town where he was held for a week before being let go.

Augustus: The antagonistic old male figure of the game who is supposed to connect with the main character over time, build a budding relationship and assure the main character’s success in karate tournaments even if the main character has to completely cheat to win. Head kicks are disqualifying! However, this particular shapeshifting alcoholic god lost his memo about the caring and connecting part. Instead, he spends most of the book, besides warping Lee to and fro different worlds, making bacon, turning into very small animals, and getting drunk. He even showed up to chapter one so drunk that he was unable to properly indoctrinate Lee into the new world, and instead insulted and pranked him.

Brian the Undead Zombie: The life of Brian was rather long and difficult, but in the end, he was able to look on the bright side. Then he got turned into a zombie and used as a tutorial combat instruction side for the game.

Connacht: A leader of one of the last remaining Human factions of Kirshtein.

Dave, The Old Fart-Whistle: Nothing more needs to be said. Dave is an old fart-whistle.

David: The Chef. Never trust a chef who cannot cook fried chicken. But, this one has an excuse for it.

Deigha, Firbolg Goddess of Ice: Based on her personality, she might as well be the official goddess of grudges too. For an ice queen, she has a real problem letting things go.

Delilah: A combination of sexy, strong and beautiful, this sick sadist collects people like toys and wants her very own Human Herald to lick her boots. Enjoys studded leather collars.

Devin McGuinness: The Herald of the Goddess of Ice, Deigha. Once had a son.

Donovan Miller: Justice heavy Firbolg found out he has to pay more on taxes than his boss, even though his boss makes five times as much as him, so now he’s out killing everything in sight in the name of justice. No one has told him what exactly qualifies as justice because of his temper though.

Geoffrey: The town’s local tailor. Does some suspicious stuff that gets him into trouble?

Gregory: A pretentious lawyer whose booksmart intellect is often only beaten by his own ego and streetsmart stupidity.

Grimalkin: We thought we were being creative.  It’s just a cat.

Haikai: The greatest baker in all Charles-written multiverses.

Herald of the God of Books and Stories: This Herald’s gift with words was second to none, not in that he was clever, but that in his words literally manifested themselves as tangible and deadly opponents for whatever victim fell prey.

Herbert the Green Hat: An unfortunate man who should keep a better eye on his wife.

Hunter: Previously undefeated champion of House Alastar. Uses war maul as a weapon.

Kate: Miller’s now-deceased beloved fiancée.

Jian Fu: The wife of Herbert.

Lee: Originally, he was nothing more than a Data Engineer, but after being pulled into another world, he can’t even contribute anything. As the main character of the game, he comes equipped with all of one’s token expectations: girls that like him for just being there, bland and over-caring attitude, hypocritical morals that he changes based on circumstance, lack of self-awareness, and that annoying, ever-present power of ‘feelings.’

Ling: Ying’s Daughter. Because every book or story needs a hot, attractive woman who at first has trouble thinking for herself.

Miller: see Donovan Miller

Mr. Ying: Because Ling wouldn’t be right without her parent.

Silinus the Slayer: One of the great Leprechaun champions of the arena, known at first for his victories, but later as a cautionary tale against being a braggart. His explosive death at the hands of a lower-level Human was made much of in the bars around Kirshstein after the battle, more than a few scathing tunes arising to commemorate his spectacular defeat. Here is one example:

There was once a Firbolg they called Silinus,

And his speeches and boasting were villainous.

For his talk was some hot air

And his folly was laid bare

When that Herald got fired up and bilious.

Oran: One of the guards who oversees Lee’s time in the arena. He secretly converts and becomes a follower of Augustus after witnessing Lee’s magical abilities and receiving consolation for a recent loss in his life.

Pelham: A Human knight captain, an experienced fighter, and, like Dave, one of the veterans of the colosseum.

Quaid: A thoroughly-racist jerk who really enjoys hitting Lee.

Ramon: This is the bartender character. While information dump characters have been nearly made irrelevant by the introduction of game walkthroughs, tutorials, and side books that have to hold the impatient reader’s attention, it’s still helpful to have a good old bartender type character to fill in the player on lore and helpful events. This particular one just so happens to not only be the bartender, but the owner of a very practical bar, with great ale, good food, and beds to crash on so there won’t be any drunk horse riders.

William: Top fighter of house Alastar who went missing before the challenge. Drugged with sleeping agents, kidnapped from his own home and shipped off to a nearby town where he was held for a week before being let go.

Wolfe: Everyone needs a good and charismatic wingman. The type that tells your most annoying, morally bankrupt architect, or rather software architect, that he’s not the bad guy in the story even as he does incredibly questionable things. Wolfe, is just that guy. He’ll pat you on the back, and tell you that you’re legendary, if you have the weight for it that is. He is by far Lee’s most loyal friend, even if Lee ends up hanging out with the tall guy with a unibrow.

Races:

Human: You’re one, so this shouldn’t need explaining, but the average base stats for humans are 10 Power, 10 Toughness, 10 Spirit.

Firbolg: This race of giant large browed beasts of men comes, more often than not, with orange and red coloring on either skin or head. Their fore-arms are much larger proportionately to their body than with humans. They also have boosts, which vary based on purity of blood, to their power at a cost of their Reflex, Coordination and Accuracy.

Leprechaun: While not significantly shorter than humans, Leprechaun are noticeably smaller than Firbolgs. They suffer a penalty to power but have boosts to Coordination, Reflex, and Accuracy.

Aes Sidhe: Not much is yet known about this mysterious race who fled from Kirshtein as Devin took control and the Firbolgs positioned themselves as the ruling class.

Items:

From Book One:

Sword of Slight Stabbing: Just another name for the awful starting sword Lee gets.  The name changes based on how much he hates it at any given moment.

Blade of Failure: Just another name for the awful starting sword Lee gets.  The name changes based on how much he hates it at any given moment.

Every Noob’s Starting Sword: Just another name for the awful starting sword Lee gets.  The name changes based on how much he hates it at any given moment.

Adventurer’s Starting Sword: Just another name for the awful starting sword Lee gets.  The name changes based on how much he hates it at any given moment.

Book of Augustus, holy text of the God of Alcohol and Crafts: The magical bible of Augustus. Unlike other bibles, this particular book is more craft and brewing related. If one knows how to ask the right question, the book will always have the right answer, but knowing the right question is much harder than it looks.

Fine leather boots offer 6 damage reduction over the surface they cover, reduce energy spent on travel by 15%, and increase the effectiveness of sneak by one rank when worn. Chapter 4.

Leather gloves offer 5 damage reduction over the surface they cover and increase grip strength on weapons. Chapter 4.

Leather pants offer 5 damage reduction over the surface they cover, reduce energy spent on travel by 15%, and increase the effectiveness of sneak by one rank when worn. Chapter 4.

Cloth Armor offers 3 damage reduction over the surface it covers and also reduces damage from heat or cold based attacks by 5%. Chapter 4.

Bronze sword Deals 8 damage. Chapter 4.

Oak bow Chapter 5.

Bronze Dagger Chapter 5.

One box of unwritten letters Chapter 6.

One silver dagger Chapter 6.

One tower shield Chapter 6.

Ling loots a longsword Chapter 6.

Sturdy Leather Boots Chapter 7.

Armor Pants Chapter 7.

Armor Chest Chapter 7.

Armor Wrist Guards Chapter 7.

Short Sword Chapter 7.

Tower Shields Chapter 7.

Sturdy Leather Armor Helmets. Chapter 7.

World Stone Shards: These, when connected to form the original world stone, will allow the user to bypass the kill-spree of other heralds and claim victory for his god.

Three blank pages from the Book of Endless Dreams Chapter 12

From Book Two

Eye of the Cragaboom Chapter 1

Full Plate Iron Chest Piece Chapter 2

Fine Steel Sword Chapter 2

3x Devilkin Skins Chapter 4

5x Sceilewolf Scales Chapter 4

Spiddlendra Carapace Chapter 5

Bowl of the Ice Queen’s Pudding Chapter 12

Skills

Appreciative Drunk reduces the inebriation stat penalties by 1% flat, such that with level 1 appreciative drunk the player will only suffer 49% Intelligence, 29% coordination, and 29% reflex penalties. It also will add other stats depending on the user’s accomplishments or properties. These Combat skills are changed while Drunk as well:

Unarmed Combat changes to Drunk Fu.

Swordplay changes to Tipsy Blade.

Sneak changes to No Squeaky Floorboards Please.

Blood Shield: It is often said that the best defense is a good offense and that a shield is one of the best offensive tools a soldier can use. Through unorthodox use of the shield, one’s skills with the tool will improve, and one’s reflexes will improve when both blocking and assaulting enemies with the shield. Makes a bloody mess.

Cooking: This skill improves one’s ability to manage time and ingredients in the kitchen.

Faith Healing: This skill allows one to use one’s own spirit to heal and patch up the wounds of himself, or others.

Glass Smithing: This skill improves one’s ability to create and shape glass structures using sand. Perfect for making vases, goblets and statuary.

Golem Sculpting: Allows the user to create a living creature out of an inanimate material, like clay. The higher the level, the larger and fiercer the creature will become. The golem will be telepathically linked with the user, and this does include sight, so we recommend new players read the ethics handguide before using this skill.

Knife Combat: Knife fighting is not for those who are just quick or dexterous, but also for those who know how and when to take a blow. It requires one to have both a strong constitution and a tolerance for pain, as rarely does either party in a knife fight walk away unharmed. Improving one’s skill in Knife Combat also improves one’s street cred.

Nectar of the Gods: For the zymurgist on the go, alcohol can be made anywhere and everywhere with this amazing talent. Why bother waiting for the distilleries and breweries to make a beverage? They say liquor is quicker, but now it is practically instant and on tap anywhere!

Sleight of Hand: This skill improves one’s ability to hold, manipulate and use small objects deftly without onlookers noticing. Increasing the skill’s level allows for better unseen manipulation of small objects. Great if you want to make a killing in Vegas.

Sneak: Improves one’s ability to stay hidden, move silently, and act undetected.

Harder to Notice if People Aren’t Paying Attention: Being hard to notice is always easier when you are uninteresting or at least not as interesting as anything else in the room. Make it work for you, you sneaky devil, you.

Sneaky Old Space Wizard: If you use this ventriloquism bonus to the Sneak skill to start a comedy act with a puppet, then you are so very unworthy--unless you are that one guy with the turban-wearing skeleton. He’s awesome.

Spirit Smithing: This skill allows the forming, shaping and tempering of metals using Spirit alone. The skill also increases basic understanding of metal weapons and armor. Spirit Smithing improves mana management by 5% per rank when Smithing and improves the durability, armor value and weapon damage of metal items by 2.5% per rank. Feel the metal.

Swordplay: Improves reasoning and execution with sword-related skills.

Trap Detection: This skill helps one notice the hard to see traps and devices that could very well spell about one’s end. It also improves the ability to recognize a person’s biological gender for some reason, programmers have yet to discover why.

Unarmed Combat: Improves one’s ability to fight without a weapon.

Locations

Birnefeld: Hometown of Brigid of Kildare and rival to Kirshtein.

CowTip: While this town sounds ridiculous, it’s because the war of eternity game creators were incredibly hungry and thinking about beef tips when they wrote this part of the questline. Please, try not to let hunger influence your own naming choices.

Farann: Miller’s homeworld. Located in another dimension.

Heaven’s Hammer: A wonderful bar run by humans, for humans. Heaven’s Hammer had the best beer in town previous to Lee’s interference with his divine zymurgy. It is also a great place to get hammered.

Kirshtein: The largest major city near Satterfield, part of the grand kingdom of Spicy Chicken Noodle Surprise. A great place to party, turn in bounties and get lost in a maze of alleys.

Satterfield: Within the southern kingdom of Spicy Noodle Chicken Surprise. Spicy Noodle Chicken Surprise is a kingdom founded and still being currently ruled by King Red Ramen of the guild Heroes of Eternity.

Random:

Members of the Church of Augustus: Those that are still alive have all learned how to ask the right question to the great Book of Augustus, and thus have achieved near immortality. Unfortunately, they haven’t learned to play games, thus their own god doesn’t hang out with them as much.

List of gods and their titles:

Mary God of Blood

Sord God of Rising Numbers

Angelica God of Regrets

Cadwe God of Poetry

Cadwe God of Ambiguity and Awkwardness

Nevir God of Fashion

Erik God of Spices and Smells

Chmilenko God of Uncomfortable Silences

Lenfers God of Architecture

Siegman

Recipes:

Augustusfest Beer #001: Temporarily increases your Power by 1 and your Charisma by 2. Great with schnitzel and pretzels.

Mana Water: Replenishes the drinker’s mana and health, albeit at a slower rate than Lee’s divine healing skill. Also quenches thirst, but not if you pour it on yourself instead of drinking it.

Brave Brother’s Brew: Miller’s attempt at naming a beer comes with heavy-handed and bro-oriented alliteration.

Monster Wine: The best kind of wine is one divinely made from the best enemies, and there are no better enemies than good monsters.

Traps:

Ballista: Long before the “we need a bigger gun” mentality came into play, people were already using the “we need a bigger bow” version. This is because bigger is always better when it comes to certain weapons and also because not everyone can hurl a spear on their own in the same beautiful fashion that Miller can.

Barbed Rope Cage: Barbed wire is easy to get around with the proper tools, but without them readily available, it can be much more difficult and very time consuming. In a battle, time is everything, and this seemingly-mild annoyance of a trap can be the difference between victory and defeat. However, the creator of the trap highly recommends one doesn’t tattoo the design on one’s arm.

Sweet Rides:

Krunklerump: A six-legged mammalian monstrosity that the author must have dreamed up when he was very drunk. Fortunately, it is able to be tamed and serves as a useful mount for soldiers with balls of steel.

Titles:

Cheat Code Fighter: Forget long sequences of directional pad input. The only button-pressing you’ll be doing to get this title is using your creativity, wits and stunted sense of fair play to really drive your enemies up a wall.

The Great Deceiver: If you get this title, you must have pulled off a doozy of a deception. Warning: it is advised that you check to make sure your pants have not erupted into a hellish blaze in response to your audacious lying.

Factions:

House Tigernach: he ruling faction and family who supports the Firbolg Herald and has seized control of Kirshtein politics.

House Alastar: Human faction that Dave belonged to before being imprisoned.

Author’s Tidbits

The previous book’s naming system was based around beers that I, the author, and my compatriots, trusty editors and beta readers loved at one point or another. If someone didn’t have a liquor name, it was for a good reason that would become evident later on in the book. However, for this book I decided to move the naming scheme to match lore points. The majority of names are actually derived from Latin, Irish or Russian lore and history depending on where in the story I thought the character would come from. The monster names however were mostly just random and based on what sounded right.

Chapter 2 This was actually the first chapter in which, despite Lee’s great efforts and previously-wonderful luck, mathematically he should have died. There were several reworks to the chapter’s fight to make sure this wasn’t the case. The War Aeternus universe is in fact a fully fleshed out game with in-depth damage mechanics, and Lee simply didn’t survive the first round of damage against him. There was even a point in writing this fight, the first death, where I laughed with my good friend Ramon and asked him, “What do you think the readers would do if I just left Lee dead and wrote the book from a new MC’s perspective?” Feel free to leave your response to this question in comments about the book.

Chapter 3 The economics of beer and board: this is going to be an explanation of why the cost of beer is what it is. This was a big part of the War Aeternus universe debate that I had with editors, D&D experts and even a historian or two. The prices I settled on were chosen by contrasting both existing medieval history and modern economics. I tried to get to the basics of what the price would be in two ways: 1.) I tried to reason it out from a modern perspective backward, and 2.) I looked for historical examples of these costs.

For the first method, I noted that many rural locations across the world have a 6-to-1 ratio for the price of rent and beers (discovered mostly by asking my friends who live in rural areas about the price of rent at a cheap motel and the price of a beer at a bar), letting the average person buy roughly 6 beers at a bar for the price of 1 room for the night. However, this is with modern conveniences weighing in on the price of the room. There are many frills today that didn’t exist back then that now create certain upkeep and furnishing standards for rooms and inflate the price of rent. Back in medieval times, they wouldn’t have to worry about televisions, showers and bathroom necessities, air conditioners, phones and other small appliances that we expect today. All they would theoretically need is a room, a bed and a bedpan. Innkeepers also would likely not have borrowed money to buy the property or had many fixed land taxes, so once the inn was erected and set up, aside from re-thatching a roof now and then, the room would be entirely a sunk cost, not creating many if any additional expenditures. I reasoned this would drop the price of the room relative to the beer. Then I also reckoned the price of beer would actually go up. While modern innovations have increased the cost of merely living in a room, they have also reduced the cost of materials for beer. Innovations have continuously increased the efficacy of both farming ingredients and transporting it from one location to another, causing the price of food to be vastly cheaper today than it might have been five or six hundred years ago. With this fact and the easier purchase of distilling and brewing equipment, it goes to say that the price of beer and food would actually be much higher relative to other cost of living expenses back then. This was how I came up with the price ratio between these two for the towns of Kirshtein and Satterfield. I know this point seems minor, especially given how fast the book’s main character earns money but given that Lee’s church is basically an inn flowing with good beer, the cost of booze and rent matters on both the consumer and producer/proprietor ends.

For the second method, there were several sources I found, each with differences that were likely influenced by the region’s availability of grain and resources. However, I ended up going with one that reflected assumptions based on the first method. The ratio I finally settled on also reflected the cost of food with an assumption that goods would be easier to tax, especially when being moved into or out of a city with the purpose of trade, than lodgings or labor. I also tried to make sure the ratios I picked were close to both the figures from the first method and from regions with similar environments. Cheers!

Chapter 6 There were nearly a dozen different names and power descriptions for Spirit Smithing, and at one point the skill overlapped with Glass Smithing. This was one of the first time’s I’ve gone through so many iterations for a skill name and description, mainly because it was something I wanted to be functional, but not overpowered.

Quests

Cattywampus Catch

Cattywampus Catch part 2

Monsters, Mobs, and Enemies:

Bandits: If there weren’t bandits, it wouldn’t be a game in a fantasy setting. Honestly, how are there always so many?

Bandit Leader: Because if a bandit is going to break every rule in town, he needs to find order somewhere in life. Having a good leader can give the bandit that much needed structure and discipline.

Corrupted Sloth: The name kind of explains what it is… but sure. Type it into a search engine and guess for yourself. The programmers, and the lore book writers, were both too lazy to put a real answer here.

Cragaboom: No one is entirely sure how these giant stone monstrosities were made or where they came from, but there is one thing that is clear: they like to eat people. Due to this causing a great dislike for them in anyone who isn’t one of their cultists, their origin has often been twisted into the most insulting things the local townsfolk can imagine. The most commonly-shared origin myth is that Cragabooms are animate turds, a final reminder from towering magical mountain beings that used to walk the lands that one should be careful where he poops and what he eats.

Cultists: In a world where there are actual magic-performing Heralds and gods interfering with people’s lives on a daily basis, some individuals still insist on sticking to good old random-monster worshipping. On the bright side, these cults often come with great dental plans.

Devilkin: These fire-bellied imps mimic the dragons of European lore with their ability to spit out infernal balls of destruction at will. They also tend to pop.

Dire Wolves: Larger than the original wolf, more ferocious than the ravenous wolf, these are creatures to be admired, but not domesticated. Attempting friendly relations with the Dire Wolf has led many a fan to his death.

Drill Mites: This is what happens when mosquitoes become even uglier, deadlier, and more heinous and then decide to adopt the social habits of wasps. Avoid at all costs . . . much like I’m avoiding the obvious mosquito pun here.

Gan Ceann King: This type of wicked and fierce fighter can quickly take your head just as fast as he lost his own. Be careful when crossing them, and never play poker with them. This is generally advised with anyone whose eyes and face you cannot see though.

Glubinsa: Because the words ‘slime,’ ‘blob’ and ‘acid monster’ just felt gross or lame, ‘Glubinsa’ will have to work in their place.

Krobken: The Krobken are called the ancient guardians of the Worldstone Shards, installed by the programmer at the same time as almost every other NPC. In this case, the word ancient doesn't feel right, but the lore book says so, so the game guide must adhere.

Ravenous Wolves: Because regular wolves are far too cute and cuddly to attack anyone.

Sceilewolf: A wingless sand whelp that uses every part of its body, especially while spinning, to slice up its enemies.

Spiddlendra: Insects were scary and disgusting enough, but now they’re spitting spikes and adhesive goo that leaves the spikes permanently embedded in whatever surface they strike

Gaming Terms:

Aggro: The proclivity of a monster or NPC to attack a player or another creature.  Often used within the phrase ‘draw aggro,’ which basically means to get a monster’s attention or force it to attack a certain target.

AOE: Area of Effect. This term refers to skills that affect multiple targets simultaneously, whether friendly or not. Typically, the particular skill being used determines the range of affected targets.

Buff: To increase or augment the abilities of another player or character in a game. When someone “buffs” another person, they’re making them better at their job.

Drive: (as in VR drive) The device used to access a virtual reality world.

EXP: Experience. Gained from killing monsters, completing quests and assisting other players. Necessary for increasing one’s level within the game.

LOS: Line of sight.  You can’t attack what you can’t see.

Nerf: A dreaded term for many avid gamers, this is the word used to describe when a game manufacturer makes a class less potent in its field.

NPC: Non-Playable Character. Characters within games that are controlled by the computer (artificial intelligence).

PK (RPK): This term can be used interchangeably as either a noun or a verb. Thanks, 1337 sp34k. As a noun, it refers to a player killer, someone who participates in actively killing other players. As a verb, it means ‘to have been killed by another player.’

RPG: Role Playing Game.  Often used as MMORPG.

VR: Virtual Reality.

MMO: Massive Multiplayer Online (game).

About the Author

Charles Dean has an English Degree and an MBA. He's worked in multiple service and sales level jobs.

He spent most of his childhood playing every story based RPG and reading every fantasy book he could get his hands on. When he finally ran out, as the price of books and games was rather costly, he tried writing his own. The first LitRPG he produced was a simple Diablo 2 fanfic, involving the president becoming a Paladin in an epic quest to save the world from a treacherous demon's nefarious plot. Unfortunately, this book was part of a creative writing assignment for a school project and the teacher deemed it 'too violent.' It would be over a decade later until he finally had free time to begin his next attempt at a LitRPG with his original series The Bathrobe Knight.

Special Thanks

A special thanks to the amazing efforts of those who sampled the earlier, less-than-edited version of this book. We thrive on the feedback of our readers, and these proud souls stepped forward and deserve special recognition. The fearless, the brave, the beta readers:

Other Books by Charles Dean

The Bathrobe Knight:

Darwin, a video game addict, was sitting in his bathrobe and slippers playing his favorite MMO on a Christmas night when an uninvited guest breaks into his house to steal his belongings. After the scuffle is over he finds himself transported into one of the sword and magic RPG-style MMOs that he has always loved to play, albeit one he has never heard of, where he has to overcome trials and tribulations at every turn as he fights for his life alongside new companions.

Available on Amazon

The Bathrobe Knight Volume II:

Having gone from a simple video game addict to the leader of a band of refugees, Darwin continues to cut his way across the world of Tiqpa searching for a home. Be it his home in real life, or one for his people in the game, the sleepless warrior presses forward. Unfortunately for him, each step he makes changes the fate of Tiqpa, a fact that is not welcomed by those who inhabit the lands.

Available on Amazon

The Bathrobe Knight Volume III:

Our hero carries on down the path that has been laid out before him. He must wrestle with the task of leading a new race of Demons and grapple with a madness that threatens to completely consume him–all while working with a bounty on his head and thousands seeking to kill him.

Available on Amazon

The Merchant of Tiqpa

Tiqpa, the first VRMMO to hit the markets, has become a world in and of itself with its own burgeoning political structure and growing strife between kingdoms and players. This unknown terrain, ripe with opportunities, becomes a new frontier which Locke, a blacksmith, tries to use to pay off real-world debts. But when he is betrayed by one of his business partners, he finds himself caught between his growing lust for revenge and his very real need for capital.

Available on Amazon

The Merchant of Tiqpa 2

When a diplomatic mission goes off the rails, Locke quickly finds himself between a rock and a hard place as old urges and new desires clash to shape the life and death decisions that he is forced to make. He soon realized that a mysterious new organization is pulling everyone’s strings and calling the shots from the shadows, and it seems to have the uncanny ability to anticipate his every move. Ultimately, he must choose between saving a friend’s life or a kingdom from the brink of corruption

Available on Amazon

War Aeternus

Lee is a quiet and unassuming office worker who leads a life of solitude, comfort, and routine. Day in and day out, he shuts off his brain, keeps his head down, and goes about doing his job and minding his own business. That is, he does until a drunken god shows up randomly one day and whisks him off into another world, demanding that Lee serve as his pawn in a game between the gods. Now, trapped in a completely different world full of danger, magic, and creatures he's never imagined outside of fairy tales and video games, Lee has to figure out how to stay alive long enough to make it back home.

Available on Amazon

Books by Richard Haygood

Death Flag

Madison spends his days lugging around boxes in a warehouse while dreaming of adventure and longing to see the world. He keeps his head down, goes to work, and does his job to earn a living, but he can't help but feel that his life is passing him by with nothing that he can do to change it. Then, on the way home from work one day, he is confronted by a beautiful but vengeful woman who accuses him of crimes he doesn't remember committing and banishes him to another world as punishment.

Now, trapped in a mysterious world he didn't think existed outside of fairy tales, pursued by angry slavers and vengeful pirates, and in the company of killers and assassins, he has to figure out how to survive long enough to get revenge and make it home. The only problem is that he might not be as innocent as he thinks he is, and everyone else seems to know more about his past than he does.

Available on Amazon

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