《Cadium》


 Prologue

    Zukas, a mundane worker on the mana rich planet of Woberia, sighed as another two-meter orb rolled into view. His weary eyes scanned the smooth, featureless surface, already knowing the precise angle and pressure required to inscribe the intricate rune. With a practiced hand, he gripped his tool, a delicate instrument of arcane power. A surge of mana, drawn from the depths of his being, flowed through the tool, illuminating the orb''s surface.


    As he began to trace the familiar pattern, his mind wandered. He thought about the countless orbs he had etched, each one a tiny piece of a vast, cosmic puzzle. Where did these orbs go? What purpose did they serve? Were they destined for distant worlds, or perhaps for the arcane experiments of powerful mages?


    The monotony of his task weighed heavily on him. Day after day, he repeated the same motions, his spirit growing numb. Yet, a flicker of hope persisted, a longing for a life beyond the factory walls. He dreamed of adventure, of exploring the unknown, of harnessing the true power of magic. Lost in thought he almost makes a mistake in his runework, his Resource Management Bracer beeps twice and gives him a small electric shock reminding him to focus on his task or his pay will be docked at the end of the week. Zukas doubles his focus and continues his task. He has a job to do, and a gambling debt to clear before he can go out into this world just like this Seeker and have his own adventures.


    The Seeker M34G9, a marvel of arcane engineering, glided along the assembly line, its smooth, obsidian surface a canvas for a symphony of ethereal runes. Each worker, a brushstroke in this cosmic masterpiece, infused the orb with their mana, their touch a delicate dance of energy and precision. Layer upon layer, shell upon shell, the Seeker was meticulously constructed, a complex network of interconnected runes forming its beating heart.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Finally, the completed Seeker, a three-meter sphere of raw power, emerged from the factory floor. A high-level mage, their form shimmering with magical energy, teleported the artifact to its designated launch point, the first step on its journey to the far reaches of the cosmos.


    Activated by the teleportation spell, the Seeker sprang to life, its runes igniting with a dazzling display of glowing power. A surge of energy propelled it forward, accelerating at an astonishing rate. It pierced the fabric of spacetime, traversing the vast expanse of the cosmos. As it journeyed, the Seeker''s sensors, like watchful eyes, scanned the environment, searching for its target.


    However, as the Seeker ventured deeper into the uncharted expanse, it encountered unforeseen challenges. The target, a desolate, mana-starved world, proved to be a harsh and unforgiving environment. The Seeker unable to absorb enough mana must conserve its dwindling power reserves, the Seeker entered a state of hibernation, its functions reduced to a bare minimum. Centuries passed, and the Seeker remained dormant, a silent sentinel adrift in an ocean of cosmic debris, lost but not forgotten.


    A celestial event, a wayward comet, dislodged the Seeker from its orbit, plunging it into the frigid depths of an alien sea. Yet, even in this hostile environment, the Seeker persisted. Its creators, foresightful as always, had imbued it with runes attuned to the elemental forces of ice, allowing it to monitor its surroundings and await the day when its mission could be renewed.


    Time, an indifferent observer, marched on. The Seeker waited, patient and unwavering, for the conditions to align, to activate its final purpose.

 LOOOONDON, YOU KNOW, LIKE THE CAPITOL OF EEEENNGGGLLLAAANNNNDDD

    Chapter 1


    London settled into his ergonomic chair, the soft leather cushioning his back as he leaned forward. His gaze fell upon the wooden desk before him, a relic from a bygone era. In a world dominated by sleek, synthetic materials, this piece of natural wood grounded him, a tangible connection to the past.


    He pondered the path his life had taken, a stark contrast to his youthful dream of becoming a Doctor. The memory of his internship at the cancer clinic resurfaced, a bittersweet recollection of hope and despair. He had vowed to revolutionize medicine, to eradicate disease and prolong life. Yet, the harsh reality of mortality had tempered his idealism. The faces of his patients, each one a life cut short, haunted his dreams.


    In a desperate bid to escape the emotional toll of his profession, London had turned to the cold, logical world of computers. Here, he could treat his digital patients without the burden of empathy. He could diagnose, prescribe, and cure with clinical precision, unhindered by the complexities of human emotion. The allure of a world devoid of suffering, a world where every problem had a solution, had drawn him in.


    London tapped the button on his earpiece, activating the call.


    ¡°Go for Pierce,¡± London replied, his voice a calm contrast to the urgency in the air.


    ¡°Dr. Pierce, we have a strange one for you,¡± asks his co-worker, the speaker struggling to catch their breath.


    London, unfazed, began to prepare his digital examination. With practiced efficiency, he opened his troubleshooting and analysis tools, each keystroke a step closer to solving the mystery.


    ¡°Give me the W¡¯s, Baker, What, When, Why, What have you done?¡± he requested, his tone steady.


    Baker, the harried network engineer, rattled off a list of symptoms: ¡°Stores all across Texas, random reboots of network equipment, starting at 11:38 AM. It¡¯s still ongoing, and we¡¯re completely stumped.¡±


    London listened patiently, mentally noting the key details. He commended Baker for his preparedness, a rare quality in such chaotic situations.


    ¡°IP¡¯s, my man, give me the IP¡¯s,¡± London prompted, his voice taking on a rhythmic cadence.


    Baker recited a string of IP addresses, his voice filled with hope.


    ¡°Okay, I can work with this,¡± London assured him. He initiated his custom troubleshooting package, a powerful tool honed through years of experience. As the script ran, automating the analysis process, London leaned back, ready to dive into the digital labyrinth.


    ¡°Start the clock!¡± Baker shouted, his voice echoing through the Network Operations Center. A network administrator, a first-line soldier in the war against downtime, initiated a timer on the massive screen, a stark reminder of the ticking clock. The room, filled with tense technicians, watched and waited.


    ¡°Okay, the tools are running, but I have to ask, what troubleshooting steps have you taken? Did you check the logs?¡± London inquired, his tone measured.


    ¡°The logs didn¡¯t show anything unusual. We tried rebooting, but it didn¡¯t help. They just kept rebooting randomly,¡± Baker explained, a collective groan rising from the NOC.


    ¡°Tell me, what happens to the logs when a network device reboots?¡± London asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°They¡¯re erased!¡± someone shouted from the background.


    ¡°So, no logs, how do we figure out what caused the reboot?¡± London pressed.


    ¡°Did you check for power outages? Did you look at the network room cameras to see if someone unplugged something? Remember that time the cleaner unplugged the router to plug in her vacuum?¡± London asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.


    ¡°No, we saw the problem and called you right away!¡± Baker exclaimed, frustration evident in his tone.


    ¡°Okay, I get it. Everyone¡¯s panicking. But while my tools are running, can you check those two things? I don¡¯t have access to those systems,¡± London requested, trying to guide the team towards a solution.


    ¡°We¡¯re on it. You, you, and you, check the cameras. You, you, and you, check the power systems,¡± Baker ordered, attempting to regain control of the situation.


    Ping! A notification sounded, signaling the first breakthrough. London, a master of the digital realm, delved into the raw data, his eyes scanning lines of code. He compared the current state of the network to a previous snapshot, searching for anomalies.


    ¡°Got a hit, boys. What¡¯s the status of the cameras and power?¡± London inquired.


    ¡°Nothing yet. What did you find?¡± Baker asked, his voice filled with hope.


    ¡°I checked the Change Log and found a configuration change specific to the affected stores. Comparing the configurations of those switches to a known good one, I discovered a single character error on line 2318: a period where a comma should be,¡± London explained, sharing his screen with the NOC team.


    ¡°Four minutes and seventeen seconds!¡± someone shouted, stopping the timer on the wall.


    ¡°Okay Class, what are our next steps?¡± London asked the group.


    A nervous chuckle filled the room as someone suggested, ¡°Revert the changes, delete Facebook, hit the gym?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s prepare a rollback package, file a bug report, and request a change to the configuration change module to prevent similar errors in the future. But I do see the appeal of hitting the gym,¡± London replied, a wry smile on his face.


    ¡°Got it. You¡¯re the best, Doc!¡± Baker said, disconnecting the call.


    London glanced out the window at the rolling hills of Northwest Arkansas, a stark contrast to the digital world he had just conquered. An alarm sounded, interrupting his thoughts. ¡°Google Stop,¡± he commanded, silencing the device. He finished his case notes and logged off for the day.


    Reflecting on his workday, he realized that he had spent only an hour or so actively working. The rest of his time was consumed by meetings, paperwork, training, and staying updated on the latest threats. As a consultant, he enjoyed the freedom and flexibility that came with the role. No more performance metrics or arbitrary deadlines. He could choose his projects, set his own hours, and command premium rates.


    With a satisfied sigh, London grabbed his phone and headed to his garage. He secured his mountain bike to his Jeep, checked his supplies, and set off on his next adventure. The digital world could wait. For now, it was time to embrace the great outdoors, Indoors, World Wide Cave?


    Answering an incoming conference call with his three friends.


    ¡°Go for London,¡± he said, tapping his earpiece. The wind whipped through his hair as he navigated the winding road.


    ¡°LOOOONDON, YOU KNOW, LIKE THE CAPITOL OF EEEENNGGGLLLAAANNNNDDD,¡± a voice boomed over the line, a playful British accent dripping with sarcasm.


    ¡°Just leaving now. Had to finish up some paperwork before I could head out,¡± London replied, mirroring the accent with equal absurdity.


    ¡°Pip-pip, cheerio, good mate. We¡¯re throwing another shrimp on the barbie!¡± a mans voice chimed in, this time with an exaggerated Australian twang.


    ¡°That¡¯s Australian, not British, you dingus!¡± London laughed.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t Australia just a British prison?¡± a second man asked, adopting a stereotypical British accent.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a bit racist,¡± London joked, a wry smile on his face.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, I¡¯m one-thirty-second Austrian,¡± the woman replied, switching to a robotic, Terminator-esque voice.


    ¡°Wrong side of the planet, Elly,¡± London chuckled.


    ¡°Google Maps says I¡¯ll be there in twenty-two minutes. I expect a cold one waiting for me,¡± London said, ending the call and glancing at his rearview mirror to ensure his bike was securely fastened. The thrill of speed was tempered by the fear of losing his prized possession. He knew that one careless moment could turn a fun weekend into a disaster.

 Hardtail Taco

    Chapter 2


    London pulled into the parking lot of the Flow Caverns Mountain Bike Park. He grabbed his backpack and bike, then headed to the main office to check in.


    ¡°Alone or with a party?¡± the heavily tattooed woman behind the counter asked without looking up from her book.


    ¡°I¡¯m with the Donner Party,¡± London replied, wincing at the irony of the name.


    ¡°The Flow Caverns are a pristine system of caves, first explored in the 1800s. The steel bolts they inserted into the cave walls were sturdy enough to support wooden structures, preserving 98% of the cave in its natural state. Please don¡¯t touch the walls, don¡¯t litter, and for the love of God, don¡¯t spray paint the caves. I¡¯ll cut out your eyes and feed you to the twelve-foot cavern fish in the Deep Descent,¡± she warned, her voice monotone.


    ¡°Can I get a map? We¡¯re camping. Can you mark our campsite?¡± London asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re here,¡± she said, marking an X on the map. ¡°And you want to camp here,¡± she added, marking another X. ¡°Also, please refrain from eating party members. It¡¯s frowned upon by management,¡± she said dryly.


    London chuckled, accustomed to the jokes about his group¡¯s name.


    He pushed his bike onto the gondola, a slow-moving elevator that carried both bikes and people deep into the cavern. The massive, well-lit cavern, illuminated by strategically placed lights, was a breathtaking sight.


    As he disembarked, he spotted his group setting up camp in a secluded alcove. There was the tall man in the dragon onesie, the short, rotund man with the long beard, and the athletic blonde woman with the elf ears. A motley crew, indeed.


    "Never fear, for the Healer is here!" London proclaimed, his voice echoing through the cavern. He was surprised at the acoustics of the alcove, providing a private space for their weekend retreat.


    "Thank ye, Doctor, for this one is stricken with an ailment no potion can cure! We need your diagnosis and magic to remove the ailment!" the short bearded man with a chainmail t-shirt exclaimed, dramatically falling to the ground.


    "But seriously, brew me!" London said, catching a can of beer tossed his way. He cracked it open and downed the contents.


    "What are the rules on spillage and waste here?" London asked.


    "Leave it like you found it, pack in, pack out. All liquids are okay. The caves have a natural treatment system, a brewery''s worth of bacteria that breaks everything down before it reaches the Deep Descent and the blind fish," the woman wearing a wizard bathrobe explained, waving a wooden wand. "Presto Cleano Peeo!" she joked.


    ¡°I set up a rubbish bucket in the corner¡± A tall man in a dragon onesie says waving towards a semi-private corner of the alcove.


    "Great, how''s everyone doing on time? I want to get a few runs in before we settle down for the session."


    "The Doctor has cured me! But I need a steady dose of adrenaline or I''ll perish!" the man on the ground said, putting on his helmet and grabbing his bike.


    London checked his bike and headed to the "Drop Zone," the starting point for the night''s adventure. The cave system was a labyrinth of trails, each offering a unique challenge: drops, berms, flow tracks, jumps, and skinny tracks, all elevated on wooden structures with safety nets below. After five minutes of exhilarating descent, the trails converged, leading back to the gondola for another ascent. With eight different paths to choose from, and countless variations within each, London realized that a weekend wouldn''t be enough to explore all the possibilities.


    "Did you see that sick heel tap I did on Jump 4?" the dragon man asked, a bit too proudly.


    "Yeah, I also saw you nearly face-plant on the next jump while you were basking in your own glory," the woman snarked.


    "Come on, the guy has one trick. It''s a cool trick, but still just one trick," the bearded man chimed in.


    "Casing a jump and almost face planting isn''t exactly a skill," London added, joining in the teasing.


    "That''s a 50 DKP minus for you!" the dragon man declared dramatically.


    "Let me guess, rocks fall, everyone dies?" the woman jokes, glancing around the cavern.


    "Don''t even joke about that! You know I hate being underground. This is a big step for me," the bearded man admitted.


    "An elf going underground, and a dwarf dare not? That''s rich," London teased, referencing a common movie quote.


    "Next time we have a D&D game in a graveyard, let''s see how you feel!" the bearded man retorted.


    After their ride, the group gathered around the picnic table, pulling out their D&D paraphernalia. Dice, character sheets, and a DM screen were laid out, ready for the night''s adventure. The dragon man, the group''s DM, began the session with a recap of their previous exploits.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    As the night wore on, the group delved into their fantasy world, rolling dice, casting spells, and battling monsters. London, the party''s healer, took on a more strategic role, guiding the party through challenges and keeping them alive. He relished the opportunity to lead, to think tactically, and to make split-second decisions. ¡°I can¡¯t cast Fireball, but I can guide you to the perfect time to do so, while keeping you alive in the meantime¡± was one of his favorite lines.


    As the session drew to a close, a cliffhanger left the group eager for the next adventure. They packed up their gear and settled into their sleeping bags, the sound of the cavern echoing softly in the background. London reflected on the day, a perfect blend of physical and mental challenges. The camaraderie, the laughter, and the shared passion for gaming made it a truly memorable experience.


    London jolted awake, his heart pounding. He looked around, disoriented, before remembering where he was and what had happened. His friends were still asleep, one snoring loudly in his dragon costume, another sprawled out in a hammock, a leg dangling over the edge.


    Ignoring the chaos, London grabbed his bike, helmet, and an energy drink, ready for a morning ride. He chose a challenging trail, a series of drops, berms, and jumps. As he navigated the course, his mind wandered, and he misjudged a jump. He clipped the railing, sending his bike and himself flying.


    He landed hard, his body colliding with the cave wall. The pain was excruciating. His wrist was broken, his ankle twisted, and his leg was bleeding. He was trapped, his bike pinning him down. As darkness crept in, he fought to stay conscious.


    When he woke, the pain was overwhelming. His vision was blurry, and he struggled to move. He managed to free his arm, but his legs were still trapped. Fear gnawed at him as he realized the severity of his injuries. He knew he needed help, and fast.


    He tried to think clearly. He imagined a rescue scenario, a basket lowered from the surface, a paramedic navigating the treacherous terrain. He chuckled at the absurdity of it all.


    As he lay there, he noticed a glimmer of light. The headlamp, partially obscured by rocks, was casting a faint glow. With a surge of adrenaline, he managed to shift his position, allowing more light to shine. Hope flickered within him. If he could just hold on, help would arrive.


    London struggled to reach the fallen headlamp, the pain in his broken wrist and injured leg intensifying. As his fingers brushed against the chalky rock, a strange sensation washed over him. The pain, the fear, everything seemed to fade away.


    A digital interface appeared before his eyes, a stark white text on a black background.


    "Cadium Procured, One unit consumed."


    "Cadium Procured, One unit consumed."


    "Cadium Procured, One unit consumed."


    "Cadium Procured, One unit consumed."


    The message repeated endlessly, a rhythmic pulse in his mind.


    London, accustomed to the monotony of digital interfaces, patiently waited for the scrolling text to pause. As he gazed at the screen, he noticed an odd detail: the text seemed to follow his gaze, always centered in his vision. It was as if the interface was part of his mind, not a separate entity.


    Suddenly, a new prompt appeared:


    "Critical Injury Found. Would you like to Heal? Yes/No"


    A wave of confusion washed over him. Was this a prank? A hallucination? He glanced around, searching for a hidden camera or a device that might be causing the illusion. But there was nothing.


    The pain in his body intensified, a stark reminder of his dire situation. Desperation fueled his response.


    "YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!" he thought, his mind racing.


    A notification appeared:


    "Ding, You have reached Level 1."


    ¡°Two stat points awarded¡±


    "Basic Heal spell acquired."


    ¡°Target healed for 51 health¡±


    ¡°Target healed for 51 health¡±


    ¡°Target healed for 51 health¡±


    ¡°Target healed for 51 health¡±


    ¡°Target healed for 51 health¡±


    ¡°Target healed for 51 health¡±


    A surge of energy coursed through his body. The pain subsided, replaced by a sense of well-being. His injuries, once severe, were now miraculously healed.


    London was in awe of the healing process. The interface, a familiar echo of gaming experiences, had guided him through the ordeal. As his bones knit together, he felt an incredible surge of energy. A new sense of power coursed through him.


    With renewed vigor, he stood up, the pain from his injuries completely gone. The headlamp had died, plunging him into darkness. He grabbed his bike, slinging it over his shoulder, and began to navigate the treacherous terrain.


    Hours later, he heard voices echoing through the cavern. He shouted for help, his voice hoarse but determined. A glowing object descended from above, a lifeline in the darkness. He secured the rope around his waist and began to climb.


    As he ascended, the interface reappeared, tracking his health and stamina. Minor injuries, cuts, and scrapes were instantly healed with a thought as he climbed out of the ravine.


    Finally, he emerged from the cavern, greeted by his friends and a paramedic. They were amazed at his condition, considering the severity of the fall. He had survived, and even climbed out of the canyon with his bike on his back.


    "Did you bring your full-suspension bike?" Ellie asked unfazed at the absurdity of it all.


    "Nope, just the hardtail Taco here," London replied, disappointment evident in his voice.


    "Well, the good news is you can get more provisions when you go to retrieve it. The weekend''s just started, bro!" the dragon man exclaimed, slapping London on the back.


    His friends carried the mangled bike to the gondola, and into the back of his Jeep. London hopped in, a mix of relief and frustration on his face as he pulled out of the parking lot. He was grateful to be unharmed, the loss of his bike was a major setback, and the utter strangeness of the morning dawning on him almost for the first time.


    As he drove home, he couldn''t shake the feeling of unease. The strange interface, the sudden healing, it all seemed too surreal. He tried to dismiss it as a side effect of shock or a bizarre hallucination. But a nagging doubt lingered in his mind.


    He decided to visit his friend, Allan, a doctor at Mercy Hospital, for a checkup.


    "Allan, are you at work? I might need some help," London texted.


    "Just finishing up a 12-hour day. What''s up?" Allan replied.


    "Bike wreck, feel fine, but want you to take a look," London said, downplaying the incident.


    "Come on by. I''ll get showered off," Allan responded.


    As London drove to the hospital, his mind raced. He was both relieved and terrified. Relief that he had survived the ordeal, and terror at the unknown power that had saved him.

 A bottle of Pappy

    Chapter 3


    London pulled into the familiar visitor parking lot of Mercy Hospital, the worn asphalt and faded paint lines a nostalgic reminder of his time as a medical student. He knew the layout well, the best parking spots, the quickest route to the ER lounge.


    "Stella!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "You look amazing! Have you lost weight?"


    Stella, the elderly receptionist, beamed with pride. "Hey, Doc. Yeah, I''ve switched to zero-calorie drinks and dropped a few pounds." She stood up, striking a pose, and London couldn''t help but chuckle.


    "Well, I''m off to see Allan. See you around," he said, blowing her a kiss.


    "If only I were forty or fifty years younger..." Stella muttered, a wistful smile playing on her lips.


    "If you were, the line would be so long, I wouldn''t have a chance," London replied, grinning as he slipped through the employee entrance, his old student ID still granting him access.


    Walking through the familiar hospital halls, London chuckled at the sight of new interns, lost and bewildered like mice in a maze. He navigated the labyrinthine corridors with the confidence of a seasoned pro.


    He entered the doctors'' lounge, finding Allan lounging on a leather couch, sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone.


    "Well, well, well, if it isn''t the prodigal son," Allan teased. "They let just anyone in here these days."


    "They never deactivated me after that tornado a few years back," London explained. "Linda in HR likes to keep me on the books as a consultant. Makes emergency paperwork easier."


    "So, what brings you here? Bike accident?" Allan asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Ugh, not the helmet question again. You know I''d never ride without one after seeing what happens in this ER," London replied, a shiver running down his spine.


    "So, you and the gang went to the bike park cave, and you took a tumble?" Allan asked, the clinical tone masking his concern.


    "Yeah, something like that," London said, glossing over the details of his harrowing fall.


    "Did you get checked out by a medic?" Allan inquired.


    "I was, but I''d like a few scans on my brain, just to check for any swelling or something. I''ve been seeing some weird spots in my vision," London explained, trying to find a plausible reason for his strange hallucinations.


    "Give me a sec," Allan said, pulling out his phone. "It just so happens the MRI is free this hour, and Willy''s doing some calibration scans. What a coincidence."


    As they walked to the imaging department, London and Allan caught up on hospital gossip. Once they reached the MRI room, London changed into a gown and lay down inside the machine. Allan watched the scans, a curious expression on his face.


    "Calibration scans are done, and you look perfect," Allan said through the intercom. "You look exactly like the examples of perfect health in the guidebook."


    London, still in the gown, joined Allan in the control room. He scrolled through the brain scans, searching for any abnormalities. But there was nothing.


    "Well, I guess I''m glad I didn''t admit myself for nothing," London said with a sigh of relief.


    "I''ve never seen someone so down after a full bill of health," Allan teased, poking London in the ribs.


    "You know how it is," London replied, slipping on his shoes. "Looking for answers with no clues."


    "Well, thanks, Doc. I''m off to the bike park. Maybe I can actually injure myself this time," London joked, waving goodbye.


    As he walked through the hospital, he passed a nurse pushing a patient down the hall. The young boy had a broken ankle, his foot twisted at an unnatural angle. A strange overlay appeared in London''s vision, displaying the boy''s health status: "Health 35%."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He blinked, trying to shake off the vision, but the numbers persisted. A sense of urgency washed over him. He knew he had to help the boy. With a thought, he focused on the boy''s injury. A surge of energy flowed through him, and the boy''s foot snapped back into place. The health status changed to "100%" and then disappeared.


    The boy stopped moaning and sat up, looking confused. The nurse was stunned.


    London stood there, his mind racing. He had just witnessed something extraordinary, something impossible. A power, a gift, a curse, he didn''t know. But one thing was certain: his life had changed forever.


    "Come to the ER with me," London insisted, his voice urgent.


    "Look, there''s nothing wrong with you. Go ride with your friends and have fun," Allan said, a concerned look on his face.


    "Just come with me," London pleaded, his voice low and serious.


    "Fine, but you have five minutes, then I''m going home to sleep," Allan agreed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.


    London walked into the crowded ER waiting room, his eyes scanning the room. He could instantly identify the injured, their ailments clear to him.


    "Allan, I bet you a bottle of Pappy I can clear this room in five minutes," London said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.


    "I can too, just give them a hundred bucks each to go home," Allan replied, a common joke among ER staff.


    "That guy with the broken collarbone wouldn''t leave for a thousand dollars without pain meds," London pointed out, referring to a man clutching his chest and rocking back and forth.


    "How...?" Allan asked, stunned.


    London focused on each patient, a number appearing above their heads, indicating their health status. With a silent command, he activated his newfound power, healing each one.


    Allan''s jaw dropped as the patients, one by one, stood up and left the waiting room, their ailments miraculously cured. Only one patient remained, a woman writhing in pain, convinced she was dying.


    "That one doesn''t count," London muttered, "I can''t cure crazy, I guess."


    A notification appeared in his vision: "Ding! You have reached Level 2, 2 stat points awarded, current stat points available 4."


    "Did you hear that?" London asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.


    "Hear what? That woman rolling around like she''s dying? Or what did you just do? Is this some kind of setup?" Allan asked, his confusion evident.


    "Okay, it''s just in my head," London said, trying to calm himself. "Take me to the ICU."


    Allan, still bewildered, led London to the ICU. As they walked, London mumbled something about ¡°I have to make the numbers go away!¡±


    They walked through the ICU, a maze of rooms filled with patients. London, with his newfound ability, scanned the room, identifying those in need. He focused on each patient, silently healing their ailments.


    As the healing energy flowed, patients began to stir. Those who were awake stood up, their illnesses miraculously cured. Nurse call lights flashed and alarms blared, the nurses overwhelmed by the sudden recovery of their patients.


    "What... you couldn''t have organized this," Allan stammered, his jaw dropped. He had just rushed a patient into surgery for a burst gallbladder, only to find the patient, now fully recovered, dancing in their room.


    "I need to go to the clinic," London said, rushing out of the ICU.


    "What, how did you do that? Answer me!" Allan exclaimed, following his friend.


    London paused, pulling up the weird log window in his vision, scrolling back to the very first line "Cadium Procured, One unit consumed," he read aloud with amazement.


    The realization dawned on him. The Cadium, the mysterious substance that had awakened his powers, was the source of his extraordinary abilities. His prayers were finally answered, he could keep them all alive now!


    "We can talk later, I have to go to the clinic NOW!" Allan shouted, breaking free from London''s grasp. He sprinted out of the hospital, weaving through traffic as he raced to Hughes Cancer Group.


    Bursting into the building, he rushed up the stairs, healing every patient he encountered. The waiting room was a scene of chaos, patients who had been suffering for months suddenly feeling a surge of energy.


    Allan reached the chemotherapy ward, but the door was locked. Frustrated, he peered through the window, healing the patients inside. He slumped onto a nearby sofa, his mind racing.


    ¡°I can heal them, but cannot cure it¡­ How is that fair???¡± London says quietly to himself as chaos stars all around him with disbelieving Cancer Patients all the sudden feeling much better.


    A news report blared from the television, capturing London''s attention.


    "BREAKING NEWS! Some are calling it the Cadium Miracle at Mercy Hospital in Bentonville, Arkansas. We have reports of over a dozen sick and injured people instantly cured. Our onsite reporter, Bob Greengas, is on the scene, Bob?" the news anchor announced, a look of excitement on her face.


    The screen switched to a reporter standing outside the hospital. "Excuse me, Doctor, can you tell us more about what just happened here at Mercy?" the reporter asked a nurse.


    "I... I don''t know. I''ve worked here for over a decade, and I''ve never seen anything like this. All of our patients just walked out, completely healthy, no matter their ailment. The only thing I can tell you is that someone mentioned the word ''Cadium,''" the nurse replied, her voice filled with confusion.


    "You heard it here first on LIGHTNING NEWS 8, THE FASTEST NEWS WITHOUT THE WAIT!" the reporter exclaimed, before the screen returned to the telenovela.


    London sat there, stunned. His secrets are out in the open. The horrible feeling of not being able to cure the disease compounded now with the impending doom of his secret exposed on live Television.

 Is 513 a lot?

    Chapter 4


    After a few minutes London calmly walked out the front door of the Cancer Clinic and to his car.  He silently wept for what seemed like hours, but might have just been minutes.


    ¡°So I can heal them, maybe there is more¡± London says to himself slowly getting over his emotions.


    London sat and thought..  ¡°Information¡± he said to himself sitting in his Jeep in the parking lot.  Instantly a slightly familiar character sheet appeared in his vision.


    London Pierce


    Healer Level 2


    4 stat points available


    14 Defense


    11 Strength


    10 Dexterity


    12 Stamina


    14 Constitution


    16 Wisdom


    17 Intelligence


    513 Cadium


    47 Hit Points


    276 Mana


    27 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    4 HP regen/10 seconds


    45 Spell Strength


    16 Melee Damage


    Spells Known:


    Basic Heal


    London, intrigued by the newfound information, focused on each stat, delving deeper into their meaning.


    Defense: This stat represents your ability to dodge or deflect attacks. A higher Defense rating means it''s harder for enemies to land hits on you. Dexterity, a measure of agility and reflexes, can slightly influence your Defense.


    Strength: This stat determines your physical power, affecting your ability to lift heavy objects and deal damage in melee combat. It also has a slight impact on your overall health pool.


    Dexterity: This stat measures your agility, reflexes, and fine motor skills. It can influence your ability to dodge attacks (Defense) and your overall health.


    Stamina: This stat determines your endurance, affecting how long you can sustain physical activity before becoming fatigued. It also has a slight impact on your health pool.


    Constitution: This stat determines your resistance to various harmful effects, including spells, poisons, diseases, and curses. It also slightly affects your health pool.


    Wisdom: This stat measures your intuition, insight, and understanding of the world. It has a significant impact on your mana pool, the energy used to cast spells. It also slightly affects your spellcasting ability.


    Intelligence: This stat measures your mental acuity, reasoning, and memory. It has a significant impact on your spellcasting power and a slight impact on your mana pool.


    Cadium: A mysterious substance that serves as a catalyst for magical power. By consuming Cadium, individuals can enhance their magical abilities, increasing their overall power output.


    Hit Points (HP): A measure of a character''s health. When HP reaches zero, the character dies.


    Mana: The magical energy reserve used to cast spells and activate abilities.


    Mana Regeneration: The rate at which mana replenishes over time, measured in units of mana per 10 seconds.


    HP Regeneration: The rate at which health replenishes over time, measured in hit points per 10 seconds.


    Spell Strength: The base power of a spell, determining the amount of damage dealt or healing provided.


    Physical Damage: The base damage when hitting an enemy, a combination of weapon damage, strength, and proficiency with the weapon.


    Basic Heal: A fundamental healing spell that restores a target''s health equal to the caster''s Spell Strength. The spell has a range of half the caster''s Cadium level, with a minimum range of 3 meters. Casting this spell consumes 3 units of mana.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    It''s clear that Cadium plays a significant role in boosting these stats, especially the mental stats like Wisdom and Intelligence, which directly impact mana and spell power.  Doing some quick math he notices the system does not like to round up, if anything it just shortens the number leaving off the information beyond the decimal.


    London''s mind raced, processing the newfound information. He realized that his life had taken an unexpected turn, transformed into a peculiar game of D&D. The familiar stat system, with its points and modifiers, was both exciting and daunting.


    He wondered about the implications of his Cadium level. Is 513 a lot? A little? Was it a game-breaking amount of power, or something even more profound? He pondered the average human, perhaps with a baseline of 7 in each stat. With just one unit of Cadium, such a person would have around 28 health and 14 mana. But with 10,000 units of Cadium, the possibilities were staggering.


    As his headache subsided, he realized that his mana pool had fully replenished. The direct correlation between low mana and physical discomfort was a stark reminder of his newfound abilities. While the idea of a mana pool was intriguing, the physical manifestation of its depletion was less so.


    London, mind ablaze with questions, delved into the depths of his newfound power, searching for answers. He explored every nook and cranny of his mental interface, hoping to uncover a hidden spell book or a secret skill tree. But alas, the universe had other plans.


    A sudden surge of news vans outside the clinic signaled a breaking news event. With a sigh, London decided to put his newfound abilities on hold and head to the bike park. His friends would be eager to hear about his extraordinary experience.


    Stopping at Walmart, he grabbed a hand basket and began filling it with energy-boosting snacks: beef jerky, nuts, pretzels, and energy drinks. As he lifted the basket, he felt a surge of strength. With a mental command, he allocated a point to his Strength stat, and the weight of the basket seemed to diminish. Another point, and the basket felt almost weightless. He then assigned two points to Dexterity, immediately noticing an improvement in his agility and coordination.


    As he wandered through the electronics section, the cacophony of news reports drew his attention. People were huddled around the televisions, their faces etched with a mix of curiosity and fear.


    "BREAKING NEWS! We apologize for the interruption, but we have footage of a metallic sphere emerging from the ice off the coast of Greenland, near Thule Air Force Base. This footage is unedited, and it appears to show an asteroid hitting the ice, but in reverse. The sphere emits strange, multicolored lights, the pattern of which is still unknown. We will continue to monitor this situation and provide updates as they become available."


    London''s heart pounded with excitement and anticipation. Could this be related to the Cadium? Was it a sign of a greater power, a cosmic force that had chosen him as its instrument? The possibilities were endless, but only time would tell.


    London, relieved by the news distraction, headed to the self-checkout, paid for his snacks, and left the store. As he stepped outside, a deafening roar filled the air. He looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief.


    Three colossal, dragon-like creatures, each carrying a rider, soared through the sky. A squadron of A-10 Warthogs, their cannons blazing, pursued the aerial beasts. The Drakes, however, seemed impervious to the attack, shielded by a shimmering, orange barrier.


    Chaos erupted below. Cars collided, people screamed, and the once peaceful parking lot transformed into a scene of panic and confusion. A woman was struck by a speeding truck, her leg twisted at an impossible angle. Without hesitation, London activated his healing ability, and her injury miraculously healed.


    The aerial battle intensified, with more A-10s joining the fray. One of the Drakes, wounded, plummeted towards the ground, disappearing into the distance. The remaining two continued their aerial dance, their riders unleashing a barrage of colorful spells.


    London stood, transfixed, as the aerial battle unfolded. The once peaceful parking lot was now a chaotic scene of fear and confusion. Realizing his Jeep was trapped in the gridlock, he grabbed his bike and backpack, determined to reach the bike park, no matter the cost.


    He followed the Razorback Greenway, navigating through the city''s gridlock. People were pouring out of their cars, fleeing the chaos. As he pedaled, he noticed a strange phenomenon: phones were malfunctioning, and power outages were widespread.


    He cut through a park, witnessing a terrifying scene. A group of orcs, their grotesque forms silhouetted against the smoke-filled sky, were attacking civilians. London, driven by a newfound sense of responsibility, healed the injured, casting spells with reckless abandon. But he quickly realized that this was a battle he could not heal his way out of. He turned his bike and continued his journey north, leaving the chaos behind.


    As London neared the Walmart Home Office, he noticed the epicenter of the chaos seemed to be the new Executive Park, where the Greenway ran directly through. Remembering the construction detours, he veered east, giving the area a wide berth.


    He pedaled furiously, navigating the city''s gridlock. He followed the Greenway through a tunnel, emerging into a vast state park. The familiar trails of the Flow Caverns Mountain Bike Park came into view.


    As he entered the park, he noticed the gondola was still operational, a sign that this area hadn''t been affected by the widespread power outage. He rode to his campsite, eager to share his extraordinary experience with his friends.


    As he approached the campsite, he could already hear the familiar banter and teasing. It seemed that even in the midst of chaos, his friends could still find humor.


    "Better late than never," "You better have M&Ms," "Late donuts!" and "Orange bike, huh? Hope it matches the drapes," his friends chimed in, their voices blending together.


    "Guys, have you not heard any of the news?" London asked, his face serious.


    "What news? That you missed some great runs down the hill?" Ellie questioned, a playful smirk on her face.


    "I''m being completely serious. I think we''re being invaded by orcs," London replied, his face pale.


    "Pull the other one," Rob, the bearded man, joked, sticking out his leg.


    "Hey, Elly, got that knife on you?" London asked, his voice serious.


    "Always. Gotta watch out for handsy freaks like Rob over here," Elly replied, handing London the knife with a playful smirk.


    Without hesitation, London took the knife and made a deep incision down his arm. His friends gasped in horror, but their shock quickly turned to awe as the wound instantly closed, leaving no trace of the injury.


    A moment of silence passed.


    "Ooh, ooh, do me next!" the man in the dragon onesie exclaimed, eagerly offering his arm.


    London, with a grim determination, sliced into the man''s arm. Elly shrieked, but the pain was fleeting. The wound healed before their eyes, the blood disappearing as if it had never been.


    "Believe me now?" London asked, his voice firm. "We need to get a plan together, and fast."

 Speluncaphobia

    Chapter 5


    "Okay, so Orcs, Drakes, and Magic are real. Does this mean I finally get to play the game instead of being the eternal Dungeon Master?" Eli joked, trying to lighten the mood.


    Pierce, his eyes wide with excitement and a tinge of fear, recounted his extraordinary ordeal. He described his newfound abilities, the strange interface, and the surreal experience of healing the injured. He omitted the more harrowing details, the moments of despair and the near-death experiences.


    "I''ve read about this," Rob, the bearded man, interjected. "A LitRPG System Integration, taking over a planet, affecting everyone at once. But you, ''Impiercenator,'' are the only one we''ve encountered so far." adopting a pompous British accent when calling Pierce by his D&D name.


    "I have a plan," Pierce said, a determined glint in his eye. "I believe I have a way to locate more Cadium. It seems to be a kind of compass, guiding me towards its source. We''re going spelunking, folks!" he added, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.


    "Can''t you just get the stuff and bring it back?" Rob asked, his eyes wide with fear.


    "Sack up, Flint Hammerbrew, we''re going cave diving!" Elly declared, punching Rob playfully on the shoulder and adopting a mock Scottish accent.


    Pierce paused, an idea forming in his mind. "Hold on a second, guys. I want to try something."


    He focused his thoughts, willing the interface to appear. A blank inventory window materialized before his eyes. His clothing, the simple shirt, pants, and shoes he was wearing, was already listed. Experimentally, he grabbed the rescue rope and willed it into his inventory. The rope vanished, disappearing into the digital void.


    "Dude, you just disintegrated my rope!" Elly exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.


    Pierce bowed dramatically. "Ta-da!" he said, summoning the rope back into his hand. The rope materialized, solid and tangible, as if it had never left his possession.


    "And for my next trick..." Pierce said with a mischievous grin, his hand hovering over his bike. With a thought, the bike vanished, disappearing into thin air.


    "I will never carry another thing in my backpack for as long as I live!" Eli exclaimed, relieved, handing Pierce all the food, gear, and packs.


    "Wait, are there any limits to how many items or how much you can carry?" Rob asked, dragging a wagon full of beer.


    "Trying something..." Pierce muttered, pulling his bike in and out of existence, then doing the same with the wagon of beer.


    "There seem to be ten non-worn inventory slots per Cadium level," Pierce explained, "and the only limit I''ve found is a mana cost. It takes roughly one mana per kilogram to store or retrieve an item. So, no adding cars to my inventory."


    "Looks like your precious James Bond car is staying here, Eli," Elly teased.


    "This might actually be the safest spot for it if Bentonville goes up in flames in the ensuing battle. Good thing I just waxed it and have it under the car cover!" Eli said, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.


    "Orcs, Drakes, and Explosions are fine, but damage his precious Aston Martin, and YOU''LL FEEL THE WRATH OF THE GREAT AND POWERFUL WIZARD IGNIS!!!" Pierce retorted, playfully mocking Eli''s D&D persona.


    With their gear secured in Pierce''s inventory, they mounted their bikes and set off, retracing the treacherous path of Pierce''s earlier ordeal. They paused at the spot where he had been rescued, a sobering reminder of the dangers they faced.


    "Okay, here''s a crude rope-made harness," Elly said, holding up a makeshift harness. "We''ll send Pierce down first, and I''ll go last. Who''s rock climbing hobby is useless now, Mom?" she says with a mocking voice.


    Pierce enjoyed the descent this time, the controlled descent a far cry from his previous, harrowing fall. His newfound abilities, the power to heal himself, had instilled a sense of calm and confidence. Reaching the cavern floor, he examined the spot where his bike had scraped against the soft rock wall.


    "I''m good, send the next one!" he shouted, signaling his readiness.


    Rob, descended next. His short, stout frame flailed wildly, his eyes completely closed due to his speluncaphobia as he inched his way down the rope. Landing with a thud, his body sprawled across the cavern floor, Pierce helped him up, sending the harness back to the top.


    Eli is lowered down next without all the drama of the ropes previous occupant.


    Elly, the most agile of the group, descended with grace and ease, her movements fluid and controlled.


    "Onward, fearless Healer!" Eli jokes, pointing at Pierce with a grin.


    With four headlamps illuminating the cavern, Pierce paused, his attention drawn to a cluster of rocks. He began to approach the formation, his senses attuned to the subtle vibrations of magic. As he drew closer, he used his thumbnail to chip away at the rock, revealing a soft, chalky interior.


    "Why in the world did you bring this?" Pierce asked, holding up a climbing pick, his gaze fixed on Elly.


    "You never know when you might need it," Elly replied, her voice filled with the confidence of an outdoor sports engineer. "Plus, it''s steel-tipped titanium, the lightest and strongest money can buy. I grabbed it for some good field testing. If we''re lucky, we can stop by my office before the looting starts and grab a bunch more goodies!"


    Pierce, fueled by his newfound power, used the pick to chip away at the rock face, his movements precise and deliberate. As he delved deeper, a fifth source of light emerged from the wall - a glowing geode, its core pulsing with raw energy. The group stood in awe, mesmerized by the sight.


    "Elly''s first," Pierce declared, shattering the hopes of his other friends. "Or well, second, I guess. And before you ask, it''s because she brought me this very cool pick, and she''s going to gear us up for the battle to come."


    Elly, her eyes sparkling with excitement, reached out and touched the geode. A digital interface appeared before her, displaying a list of options.


    "27 Cadium procured," she announced. "I can choose a class! I''m going to be an Archer. And look, I got a spell called Pierce! HA! I stole your spell, Pierce!" she teased, referring to Pierce''s last name. "It lets me imbue weapons to easily pierce armor, but it costs mana to maintain."


    ¡°I want to compare stats, you have about 5% of the Cadium I do, what do your stats look like?¡± Pierce asks, pulling up his own character sheet.


    ¡°Wait, I am trying something, good, good, that worked¡± Elly said with a smug look on her face. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Name: Evolon


    Archer Level 1


    2 stat points available


    11 Defense


    7 Strength


    8 Dexterity


    7 Stamina


    4 Constitution


    7 Wisdom


    5 Intelligence


    27 Cadium


    27 Hit Points


    23 Mana


    2 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    2 HP regen/10 seconds


    10 Spell Strength


    14 Physical Damage


    Spells Known:


    Pierce


    "Base stats are nearly the same as Modified," Evolon mused, "I guess the Cadium modifier is huge the more you have."


    "Okay, Rob''s next, but only because his seasonal job as a blacksmith at Silver Dollar City is going to help us with the gear Evolon can''t provide," Pierce explained, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Relief washed over Rob''s face, while Eli''s expression turned sour.


    Pierce moved to another part of the cavern, his senses attuned to the subtle fluctuations of magic. He used the pick to excavate the wall, chipping away at the rock with ease. As he dug deeper, a beam of light emerged from the wall, illuminating the hidden chamber. Rob, his short, stout frame bouncing with excitement, couldn''t contain his glee.


    "Wait, you changed your name?" Pierce asked, his curiosity piqued. "How did you do that?"


    "Just thought about it," Evolon explained, "got a warning that I could only do it once, and I totally YOLO''d it." She grinned, pleased with her impulsive decision.


    "Hmm, change name to Impiercenator," Pierce muttered, a mischievous glint in his eye. A collective groan echoed from his friends as they cringed at the punny name. "Hey, I let you nerds call us the Donner Party, so let me have this one," he defended, a smirk playing on his lips.


    "I''m going with Fighter," Rob declared, his voice filled with excitement. "I want to use my blacksmith hammer to bash some skulls in!"


    Name: Flint Hammerbrew


    Fighter Level 1


    2 stat points available


    17 Defense


    9 Strength


    9 Dexterity


    6 Stamina


    6 Constitution


    5 Wisdom


    4 Intelligence


    22 Cadium


    31 Hit Points


    18 Mana


    1 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    3 HP regen/10 seconds


    8 Spell Strength


    16 Physical Damage


    Spells Known:


    Challenge


    ¡°This Challenge spell gives me a 10% boost to strength, and all enemies in range a negative 10% in Armor and Constitution for a small mana per second upkeep, that should be super helpful, but why are my mental stats so low?¡± Flint asked


    ¡°Because you are a moron, duh!¡± Eli joked with his friend. ¡°Never met a puzzle you couldn''t bash with a hammer.¡±


    While his friends tease each other Pierce finds what seems to be the last and smallest pocket of Cadium within his range. Using his new pickaxe he finds it just a few feet from the last one. Almost as fast as the light is found Eli¡¯s arm shoots out and absorbs the magical rock.


    ¡°You''re a Wizard Harry!¡± Eli jokes reading out his character sheet.


    Name: Ignis


    Wizard Level 1


    2 stat points available


    9 Defense


    4 Strength


    5 Dexterity


    5 Stamina


    3 Constitution


    8 Wisdom


    9 Intelligence


    20 Cadium


    18 Hit Points


    22 Mana


    2 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    1 HP regen/10 seconds


    14 Spell Strength


    4 Physical Damage


    Spells Known:


    Fireblast


    ¡°Fireblast sends out a customizable beam of fire in a straight line towards my target, also allows me to mark friends to ignore any friendly fire issues.¡± Ignis says shooting a 1 meter wide blast of fire at his friends that continues down the cavern for 10 meters lighting up the entire cavern in bright magical fire extinguishing itself one second later.


    ¡°Bro that hurts!!!¡± Flint says slapping Ignis on the back of the head.


    ¡°Oh, I''ll mark you three as friendly now I guess¡± Ignis says with a powerful grin on his face.


    "Okay, data point learned," Pierce mused. "Now that we have Cadium, our sense of pain is dulled. To me, that felt like being next to an oven, but without the actual burning sensation."


    "Felt like touching fire with wet hands," Flint added.


    "Mine felt like rolling in hot coals for a second then leaving a sunburn" Evolon explained, touching her slightly reddened arm, watching the redness fade away. "Must be my low Constitution score."


    Pierce cast three spells and watched as his friends'' pain vanished, their expressions shifting from agony to invincibility.


    "We can test everything later," he said, "Let''s get out of here. We''ve got two more stops to make before we head into battle." With newfound strength, he effortlessly climbed the rope, followed closely by Evolon.


    Flint, however, struggled. "I''ve got the strength, but I''m having trouble pulling myself up," he admitted. "Can you just pull me up like we did for you earlier?"


    "Sure thing, guys," Pierce replied, flexing his muscles. "I think my 13 Strength could win me gold at the next Olympics, if there even is a next Olympics."


    "Yeah, yeah, yeah, show off," Flint chuckled. "That 513 Cadium and one full level put you four strength above me."


    "Oh, that reminds me, we have two first-level stat points to spend. Get to spending, boys!" Evolon said, climbing up the rope with ease.


    "Call out what you invest in," Pierce suggested. "I''m thinking a generalist approach. My high Cadium level has given me a mental advantage, so I''ll focus on physical stats to round things out. But I bet you guys will go for more specialized builds, like glass cannon, tank, or dexterity."


    "Plus two Dexterity," Evolon declared.


    "Plus one Strength and plus one Constitution. I''ll alternate between Constitution and Dexterity every level," Flint said.


    "Plus one Intelligence and plus one Wisdom. Glass cannon sounds great, but I need the wisdom to fuel my cannonballs," Ignis replied.


    "I got some balls for ya," Flint joked, striking a pose next to his towering friend.


    "Stop rubbing on me, Pierce! Make him stop, it''s gross!" Ignis shouted from below, as Pierce began pulling him up the rope with effortless ease.


    "Next!" Pierce called out as Ignis reached the top, stepping over the safety barrier.


    "Guys, you left me down here all alone... WHAT THE FRANK???" Flint''s panicked voice echoed from below.


    "It''s okay, I''ll heal the fear out of you later," Pierce joked, dropping the rope back down.


    "I''m new to this magic stuff, but I''m not sure that''s how that works," Flint muttered as he was hoisted upward.


    The group seamlessly morphed into their D&D personas, their real-world identities slipping away like discarded skins. The mundane names of London, Elly, Rob, and Eli were replaced by the resonant titles of Pierce, Evolon, Flint, and Ignis. As they delved deeper into the fantastical realm, a palpable shift occurred. The weight of their everyday lives, the monotonous routines, and the mundane jobs faded into the background. In their place, a vibrant tapestry of magic and adventure unfolded.


    Pierce, the quiet observer, recognized the therapeutic nature of their role-playing. It was a sanctuary, a place where they could shield their minds from the harsh realities of their situation. By immersing themselves in this fantastical world, they could temporarily escape the trauma that had seeped into their lives. It was a way to disconnect from the world they knew, to shed the shackles of their ordinary existence, and embrace the extraordinary.


    As he gazed upon his friends, transformed by their newfound magical abilities, a knowing smile spread across his face. They were no longer just ordinary individuals with mundane jobs and hobbies. They had ascended to a higher plane of existence, becoming full-time adventurers in a realm of wonder. It was only natural, then, that they would leave their old identities behind. The timid London, the pragmatic Elly, the reserved Rob, and the introverted Eli had been replaced by the fearless Pierce, the enigmatic Evolon, the cunning Flint, and the fiery Ignis.


    They were no longer bound by the limitations of their real-world personas. They were free to soar through the skies, traverse treacherous dungeons, and battle fearsome creatures. Their magical powers were a testament to their newfound freedom, a symbol of their escape from the mundane. In this extraordinary world, they could truly be themselves, unburdened by the constraints of society.

 Truck Nuts

    Chapter 6


    "Before we head out, beer me!" Flint exclaimed, catching a can from Pierce.


    "I need to spring a leak. They said it''s okay anywhere in the cave, right?" Ignis asked, a mischievous grin on his face.


    "Go for it," Evolon replied, a playful tone in her voice. "Once you ladies are done playing around, we need to hit the trail!"


    Pierce distributed the supplies, trading the extra gear and food into each party members inventory. With their gear secured, the group set off, following the bike path out of the cave and onto the Greenway.


    "So, guns seem useless," Evolon mused, "but with all of our weapons with Pierce, we should be able to damage those invading aholes." She led the way, expertly navigating the trail, dodging fallen trees and abandoned vehicles.


    "Is it weird that we haven''t seen anyone yet?" Ignis asked, a note of fear creeping into his voice.


    "If we find anyone, avoid them, backtrack, and go around," Pierce cautioned, assuming the role of group leader.


    Within ten minutes, the group arrived at an empty office building. No cars were in the parking lot, a sure sign that they were the first to arrive.


    "Looks like we made it here first," Evolon proclaimed, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I''ve always hated this company. They make the coolest toys, then sell them at prices only trust fund babies can afford."


    With a swift strike of her pickaxe, Evolon shattered the glass door, the shards of glass disappearing into the air. The group, illuminated by the beams of their bike lights, ascended the stairs, plundering the showroom. They grabbed everything they could use: camping gear, cooking supplies, hunting equipment, desert, winter clothing, and even a rack of snowboards.


    "Leave the guns," Evolon instructed, "only take reusable devices. Remember what we learned in that zombie campaign? Bullets run out, but bolts and arrows can be reused." She tested a compound bow, its tip adorned with a wicked-looking hook.


    "Ooh, I like this," Flint exclaimed, grabbing a case of sleek, metal camping hammers and a prototype titanium sledgehammer and pickaxe head.


    "Not much here can help me be more wizardly," Ignis muttered, picking up a few hunting knives and a futuristic, mylar fire-resistant robe.


    "Motorcycle leathers, everyone," Evolon announced, tossing leather jackets, pants, and gloves to each of them. "The rest can go in the inventory."


    As they exited the building, Pierce was clad in a full black leather motorcycle outfit, his helmet secured, and his titanium pickaxe at the ready. Flint, sporting a similar leather ensemble, carried his massive hammer over his shoulder. Ignis is wearing a camouflage mylar robe with hood and leather vest with multiple knives sheathed in it, and Evolon has gone full Katniss Everdeen with Archery Leather, a compound bow, and side quiver of arrows.


    "Here, give me your weapons," Evolon said, casting her spell on each of them, imbuing their weapons with the Piercer effect.


    "Quick question, what''s everyone''s Physical Damage now?" Flint asked, curiosity piqued.


    "23," Evolon replied.


    "4," Ignis admitted, a chuckle escaping his lips.


    "21, not bad for only using a pickaxe for a few minutes," Pierce said with a modest smile.


    "25, take that!" Flint boasted, a hearty laugh booming from his chest.


    "Dude, you''ve been swinging a hammer for like a dozen years," Pierce retorted, "Evolon''s been doing archery for twenty. Give me a break, I''m just the healer."


    "Enough dicking around," Evolon declared. "Lead the way, Flint, oh god of hitting things good." With a mischievous grin, she led the group away from the office building, their bikes summoned from their inventory.


    Twenty uneventful minutes later, the group arrived at a house on the corner of a street. A fire truck lay overturned, and a Hummer was tipped on its side, the scene eerily reminiscent of a post-apocalyptic film.


    "Still no people," Evolon muttered, a shiver running down her spine. "It''s starting to feel like 28 Days Later."


    "More like The Walking Dead," Ignis added, his voice low. "It feels like we''re about to turn a corner and be surrounded."


    "Is your mom home, Flint?" Pierce asked, his voice laced with a hint of humor. "Not sure how we''d handle that. She''s hot, and all... I guess I could share a tent with her."


    Flint glared at Pierce. "Keep your perverted hands off my mom. No, she''s down in Texarkana visiting family this weekend."


    "Dude, you''re thirty-two years old, and your hot mom is single. Let the woman live," Evolon teased. "I bet she''s down there visiting some hot young thing, getting her freak on!"


    "Go, Mrs. Johnson!" Ignis chimed in.


    "Guys, could you get serious and stop crushing on my mom?" Flint pleaded, exasperated.


    Leading the way, Flint descended into the basement, a hidden treasure trove of tools and supplies. He grabbed a Captain America-style shield, a set of blacksmithing tools, and a compact anvil.


    "Where did you get an anvil from Acme Corporation, and how much did shipping cost?" Ignis asked, dumbfounded.


    "You won''t be joking when I''m making armor to protect your heads," Flint replied, summoning a pile of metal ingots and coal from his inventory. "Let''s crush some skulls!"The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Captain America, a forest fire burn victim, Lady Hawkeye, and a gold miner," Ignis joked, pointing at each member of the group. "Now that''s a motley crew, or one could say... a Donner Party!"


    "Okay, last I saw, the baddies were coming from the Home Office area," Pierce mused. "Why in the world would interdimensional orcs invade Corporate America?"


    "If you go by the Battlefield Earth rules, they could be a galaxy-wide corporation," Evolon explained. "Taking out the biggest company on the planet would be a show of force, a way to quickly eliminate competition and establish dominance. It''s what I''d do."


    The ten-minute ride to the Executive Park was uneventful, save for the increasing signs of destruction. Overturned cars, bullet casings, and even military vehicles, torn apart like toys, littered the landscape. Yet, strangely, there was no sign of human life.


    As they approached the park, they spotted movement within the containment fence. Pierce motioned for the group to dismount and take cover behind a crashed Razorback Transit bus, its imposing silhouette juxtaposed against a lifted Ford F-350.


    Through a narrow gap between the vehicles beneath a set of truck nuts, Pierce peered towards the source of the movement. He used a system of hand signals, a relic from their D&D days, to communicate with his team.


    Pierce signaled to the group: four targets, three melee and one caster, thirty meters out in the open. The plan was simple: Evolon would provide ranged support from the left flank, focusing on the leftmost target. Ignis would use his fire magic to eliminate the rightmost target. Flint would hold the center position, ready to engage in melee combat or provide support as needed. Pierce, the healer, would remain behind cover, ready to assist his allies. Their fallback position was a jackknifed 18-wheeler, sixty meters behind their current location.


    Evolon and Ignis, eyes locked on their targets, counted down in unison. On the count of three, they unleashed their attacks. Evolon''s arrows found their mark, piercing the orcs'' armor. Ignis''s firebolts scorched the flesh of their target, inflicting grievous wounds.


    As the remaining orc closed in on Flint, the small, bearded man braced himself. The orc''s weapon struck the Captain America shield, sliding harmlessly off. With a swift counterattack, Flint landed a powerful blow, sending the orc crashing to the ground. The orc caster, meanwhile, unleashed a blast of ice, slowing Flint''s movements. But the determined man, fueled by adrenaline, pressed on, his shield protecting him from the magical onslaught.


    Pierce watched in awe as the middle orc''s head exploded, a testament to the combined power of Evolon''s piercing arrows and Ignis''s fiery blasts. To ensure Flint''s safety, he cast a healing spell, mending the minor injuries inflicted by the orc''s attack.


    The group regrouped around Pierce, discussing the battle.


    "That first one cut my damage almost in half compared to the last one," Evolon observed, "I guess their warriors have high Armor and Constitution." Ignus nodded in agreement.


    "One surprise the spell didn''t explain is the beam is a line affecting everything in between its start and end point," Ignis explained, "It also has a burning damage over time that doesn''t stack, which means I should hit every enemy once for the DoT before focusing fire on one of them with Evolon."


    "Good work," Pierce said, "Now check the logs and let me know what you see." feeling like he is back at work leading other techs towards the answers they seek.


    Evolon, adopting her posh elvish accent, began reading from her character sheet.


    ¡°You pierce Orc Warrior for 11 damage, bleed effect of 2 health per second applied.


    You pierce Orc Warrior for 11 damage, bleed effect of 2 health per second applied.


    You pierce Orc Warrior for 11 damage, bleed effect of 2 health per second applied.


    You have killed an Orc Warrior.


    You pierce Orc Mage for 23 damage, bleed effect of 2 health per second applied.


    You pierce Orc Mage for 23 damage, bleed effect of 2 health per second applied.


    You have helped kill Orc Mage¡±


    Ding! You have reached Level 2, 2 stat points awarded, current stat points available 2.¡±


    ¡°Looks like I should do the same with my bleed, tag all enemies before focusing fire on a single one, also still rushing Dexterity with the stat points¡± Evolon says with a smirk on one side of her face.


    Flint looks at the group with true battle madness in his eyes.


    ¡°With Pierce behind me, I feel like I could smash the Sun to bits!¡±


    Orc Warrior slashes at you, your shield successfully deflects the blow.


    You have taken one point of damage


    You crush Orc Warrior for 25 damage.


    You have killed an Orc Warrior.


    You are healed for one point of health


    Ding! You have reached Level 2, 2 stat points awarded, current stat points available 2.


    Strength and Dexterity this for me this level¡± Flint says focusing on his character sheet.


    Ignis reads his log with his Epic Wizard Accent.


    ¡°You burn Orc Warrior for 15 damage, burn effect of 1 health per second applied.


    You burn Orc Warrior for 15 damage, burn effect of 1 health per second applied.


    You burn Orc Warrior for 15 damage, burn effect of 1 health per second applied.


    You burn Orc Warrior for 15 damage, burn effect of 1 health per second applied.


    You have killed an Orc Warrior.


    You burn Orc Warrior for 15 damage, burn effect of 1 health per second applied.


    You burn Orc Warrior for 15 damage, burn effect of 1 health per second applied.


    You have killed an Orc Warrior.


    Ding! You have reached Level 2, 2 stat points awarded, current stat points available 2.


    I am splitting Intelligence and Wisdom again¡±


    Looking at his logs Pierce lets out a chuckle.


    ¡°Looks like I get experience just from healing anyone who needs it, and still get experience from being near the party during battles. Thank the gods, because healers normally get screwed if they don''t actively partake in the killing.¡±


    ¡°You have healed Flint for one point of damage


    You have helped kill Orc Warrior


    You have helped kill Orc Warrior


    You have helped kill Orc Warrior


    You have helped kill Orc Mage¡±


    Ding! You have reached Level 3, 2 stat points awarded, current stat points available 2.


    I am going with Dexterity and Constitution until my Spell Strength can¡¯t fully heal any of you three in one cast before adding some to mental stats.¡± Pierce says, as his in character persona Pierce.


    ¡°Guys, did we really just do that? In real life? Not a game, not some weird VR or AR situation, is this really hot Orc blood splattered across my chest?¡± Flint says with excitement in his voice.


    "That was pretty easy, but let''s not bite off more than we can chew," Pierce cautioned, "We''re not sure what their damage output is, and I can''t bring anyone back from the dead, sadly."


    Pierce crawled through the gap between the vehicles, examining the fallen orc. With a thought, he added the entire body, along with its gear, to his inventory.


    "Just throw the corpses into inventory," he suggested. "We can check the loot later. And see if you get your arrows back, Evolon."


    The group quietly dispersed, each member taking care of the fallen orcs. They then regrouped behind the bus, ready to move on.


    Pierce led the way, guiding the group around the perimeter of the complex. They eventually spotted movement through the windows of a green Subaru. Pierce peered through the glass, his eyes widening in shock.

 Let me guess, you can do this all day?

    Chapter 7


    The sight that unfolded before the Donner Party was nothing short of terrifying. As their gaze swept down 8th Street, piercing the heart of the sprawling corporate complex, they were met with a surreal, otherworldly spectacle. A jagged, pulsating rift, a tear in the fabric of reality itself, stretched between two buildings. From this ominous portal, an endless procession of orcs emerged, two by two, their stoic faces etched with a singular purpose. These monstrous creatures, clad in crude armor and armed with crude weaponry, coalesced into formidable warbands of fifty or more, marching in lockstep towards a towering orc with a crimson headdress.


    "Well, Big Red there seems to be the boss," Pierce whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant rumble of orcish footfalls. "But I don''t think we can just charge headlong into that horde. What do you think, team?"


    Evolon, ever the pragmatic strategist, broke the tense silence. "I suggest we focus on the perimeter first. Level up a bit, get stronger, before we dive into the deep end."


    "I say we fuck off and go to Disneyland," Ignis stuttered, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he attempted to lighten the mood.


    "I''m with Evolon," Flint declared, his eyes locking onto each of his party members. "Let''s pick off small squads of those bastards until we''re strong enough to handle the Zerg."


    "While I agree," Pierce countered, his gaze fixed on the endless stream of orcs, "I think our first priority after getting stronger is to stop the flow of Orcs, rather than try to kill them all."


    Crouching low, the group retreated from the intersection, retracing their steps and searching for an engagement they could win. As they moved, Pierce''s keen eyes spotted a group of ten orcs approaching the complex from the west. In their midst, five human figures, dressed in business attire, were being herded along. Bruises marred their faces, and one man''s arm hung limply at his side. Yet, despite their injuries, they moved with a grim determination, their eyes filled with shock and resignation.  Giving the hand signals the group prepares for battle.


    Walking with a limp, June couldn''t help but reflect on the string of poor decisions that had led her to this dire predicament. Choosing business school over law, specializing in logistics rather than management, and opting for Walmart over Target ¨C all seemingly insignificant choices that had now culminated in a life-or-death situation.


    Her recent move from the vibrant city of Seattle to the sleepy town of Bentonville, Arkansas, was starting to feel like the worst decision of all. The allure of the "bikeable life" had proven to be a cruel joke, confining her to a small town with limited opportunities. Now, as she was being led away by monstrous creatures, she couldn''t help but feel a surge of regret. She should be organizing the movement of produce, not becoming produce herself.


    At least Landon, her creepy colleague, was there to share her fate. A flicker of dark humor crossed her mind as she hoped he would be the first to be eaten.


    Walking with a group of other corporate drones, surrounded by giant, monstrous creatures, June struggled to keep pace. She tried to adopt a posture that would make her appear less appetizing, though she doubted it would make much difference. As they rounded a corner, weaving between abandoned cars, a sudden, unexpected sensation washed over her. A sharp pop echoed from her broken wrist, and the pain that had been gnawing at her subsided.


    Before she could fully process what had happened, a deafening roar erupted, and a wave of fire engulfed her small group of office workers. Yet, instead of feeling the intense heat of the flames, she felt a comforting warmth. A rhythmic twanging sound filled the air, accompanied by a guttural cry. Turning her head, she witnessed an extraordinary sight. A small motorcycle gang, clad in black leather, was engaged in a fierce battle against the monstrous creatures. One member, armed with a bow, unleashed a flurry of arrows, while another spewed a constant stream of fire, like a bizarre circus performer. A third, wielding a giant black hammer and a Captain America shield, charged towards them with a determined look. The fourth member, however, stood motionless, his head swiveling as if lost in thought.


    "What in the cosplay is going on here?" June blurted out before she could catch herself. Remembering the consequences of speaking, she quickly dropped to the ground, curling into a fetal position. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the chaos around her, humming softly to herself.


    A few minutes later, a gentle hand tugged at her arm, pulling her to her feet. "I''m Evolon," the woman said, a hunting bow in one hand. "What''s your name?"


    "J... J... June," she managed to stutter, tears welling up in her eyes.


    "Look at me, June," Evolon said, her voice firm. "You look like the most put-together of this group. Where were they taking you?"


    "We don''t know," June muttered, her gaze scanning the battlefield. The monstrous creatures had been eradicated, absorbed into the biker gang without a trace. "They just hit us until we did whatever they wanted. I think they communicate with grunts, barks, and punches."


    "Okay, June," Evolon said, her voice steady. "I need you to get your friends here and head that way. Find somewhere safe, far from the complex, and start organizing some sort of response or information network."


    "I can''t," June replied, fear creeping into her voice. "I don''t know anyone, and my apartment was destroyed. I have nowhere to go."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Look at me," Evolon said, her gaze intense. "You are strong. You can do this. Organize these corporate douchebags and run the damn meeting!"


    "Okay, I will try," June said, her voice filled with a newfound determination. "Landon, let''s go. We''re headed west to Crystal Bridges!"


    "Any updates?" Evolon asked her group as they slowly made their way west, away from the heart of the invasion.


    "Same basic Orcs," Ignis replied, stowing the last of the fallen creatures into his inventory. "These didn''t even have weapons."


    Pierce handed each of his friends a drink and a small bag of jerky. "Quick break, then back to murdering the worst level 1 fodder of any RPG ever!"


    "I know, right?" Flint boasted, puffing out his chest and striking a superhero pose. "Ten of them, and I only got hit twice."


    "I think that woman believes she was rescued by Captain America," Evolon commented, her nails clicking against the shield. "We really need to paint your shield. It''s a distraction."


    "I like it," Pierce joked. "It''s iconic and gives us some authenticity."


    "When this is all over, they''re going to put a Steve Rogers statue over there, rather than the real heroes saving the day!" Ignis joked.


    "When this is all done, we''re going to have a million Orcs in Northwest Arkansas," Evolon said, scanning the area for their next target. "I''m not sure many statues will be commissioned."


    "Break time is over," Pierce declared, gathering the trash and stowing it in his inventory. The irony was not lost on him as they stood amidst the ruins of a city, surrounded by abandoned cars, bikes, and litter.


    Three hours, four more battles against the same low-level orc fodder, and a level-up for each party member later, a new development emerged.


    As the Donner Party circled the perimeter of the invasion force, they stumbled upon a disturbing scene. A squad of fifty orcs was herding hundreds of terrified pets towards the center of a nearby park. The sight of these once-loved companions being treated as mere livestock ignited a fury within Evolon.


    Pierce signaled to his team, proposing a vote on whether to engage or ignore this risky target, easily three times larger than any they had faced before. Without hesitation, his friends responded with unanimous attack signs.


    A plan was hatched. They would strike swiftly and decisively, taking advantage of the orcs'' preoccupation with the pets. The fate of these innocent creatures rested in their hands.


    Pierce gave the signal, and the team spread out, taking advantage of the urban landscape. Evolon, the skilled archer, ascended the towering walnut tree, gaining a commanding view of the battlefield. Ignis, the pyromancer, perched atop a large electrical box, their fiery gaze fixed on the narrow alleyway between the two imposing buildings.


    Flint, the courageous warrior, positioned himself at the entrance of the alley, ready to bait the orcs into a deadly trap. Pierce, the enigmatic healer, remained hidden in the shadows, prepared to support his allies from afar.


    With a shared signal, Evolon and Ignis unleashed a barrage of arrows and fireblast, marking the pets as friendly targets. The orcs, alerted to the threat, swarmed down the alleyway, two by two, oblivious to the impending doom.


    Evolon and Ignis took turns tagging each orc, applying damaging effects before focusing their firepower on the first two creatures. Within five minutes, fifty orcs lay smoldering on the ground, their charred remains emitting a distinct barbecue aroma.


    "Good work, guys," Pierce praised, a smile spreading across his face. "What were your gains from that?"


    "Got a level," the archer replied.


    "Same," the fire wizard echoed.


    "Same," the tank confirmed.


    "I got two," Pierce exclaimed. "Level six, maybe Cadium also compounds experience, per unit of Cadium owned. Which means I may out level you guys, which is refreshing for a healer!" he laughed.


    "I only have eighteen health," Ignis groaned, "I''m going to have to start investing in Constitution for Health and Resistances every level now, so I don''t get one-shot by the first big hit." He quickly allocated two points to Constitution, boosting his health to twenty.


    "Not to steal your thunder or anything, but I got two things at level five," Pierce interjected, reading from his combat log. "A Class Affect called Overhealth."


    Overhealth: All unneeded health from healing a target is spread in an Area of Effect around the target at a range of 1/4th of Cadium meters.


    "I also got a new spell," Pierce announced. "But this time, I get to choose from a list based on how much Cadium I possess. Cure with a low chance of curing a random ailment, Cure Poison with a medium chance of curing just a poison, Cure Disease with a medium chance of curing disease, Cure Curse with a low chance of curing a curse, and the final option, which I''m picking, is Cure Ailment."


    "Cure Ailment - Cures all negative effects on the target for 1/10th Cadium as a percentage for 8 mana per cast," Pierce read aloud.


    "Holy crap! That first one could top off an army, and the Cure spell gives you a 51.3% chance to cure all negative effects, no matter if it''s a Curse, Disease, or whatever. No offense, bro, but I think you''re breaking the system somehow. But if anyone''s going to be OP, I''d rather it be my healer!" Flint exclaimed, slapping his shield. "I tank, you heal, that''s the deal!"


    "I just hope we get something just as good at level five," Evolon mused, absorbing the remnants of the fallen orcs to replenish her arrows. "Oh, and this is interesting. Even though these orcs were burned to a crisp, their loot is still pristine. It must have been magically enchanted or something."


    "Always the loot goblin," the wizard chuckled. "Fire doesn''t need ammo!"


    "Until you come across a Fire Elemental and get eaten," the archer retorted, their long-standing rivalry flaring up.


    "I''m spreading the points out, getting all of them to eight except Intelligence, which is still at seven," Pierce explained, focused on his stat sheet.


    "Not to be a downer here, but I really hope we find something a bit more challenging," Flint complained, having hardly lifted his hammer during the last fight. "Playing the bait is nice and all, but I want some real action!"


    "Let me guess, you can do this all day?" Pierce teased, pointing at the tank''s shield.


    "You know the rule, you''re not allowed to say your own catchphrases, but you can lead someone else to say it for you!" the tank declared, striking a superhero pose.


    "Enough messing around," the wizard declared, his eyes ablaze. "Let''s exterminate these pests like the Orkin Man! I want that next level!"

 Lord Pierce, and the Mighty Donner Party!

    Chapter 8


    As the sun began to set, the group finished looting the remnants of the last orc horde, a group of over a hundred that they had easily dispatched.


    "All that work with so little to show for it," the archer grumbled, restocking her quiver with enchanted arrows.


    "Without insight into the math of the leveling system, we can only guess why," Pierce mused, searching for their next target. "Hell, we don''t even know the level of these orcs."


    "While I''m not tired, I don''t think night hunting is a good idea," Ignis suggested, pulling out a lawn chair he''d scavenged earlier. "Let''s find a place to rest for a bit."


    "I concur," Pierce agreed, scanning the dimly lit city. "Your fire will bring every orc in Northwest Arkansas on top of us."


    "I know a safe place nearby," Pierce announced, summoning his orange bicycle from his inventory. "Mount up!"


    As the last rays of sunlight faded, the group ventured down a famous mountain bike trail, descending into a serene valley. A crystal-clear stream meandered to their left, while a network of intricate trails, adorned with jumps and berms, led towards a small lake, a popular gathering spot for local bikers.


    The group slowed their pace as they approached a small alcove in the trail, where a lone campfire flickered. Pierce signaled his companions to draw their weapons and approach cautiously. As darkness enveloped the forest, the campfire became their sole source of light, casting eerie shadows across the surrounding terrain.


    Peering around the large tree, the party witnessed an extraordinary sight. A massive female orc cradled the neck of an injured, ten-meter-long drake, her voice a soothing melody as she sang an unintelligible tune. The drake, its health dwindling, seemed to find solace in her touch.


    The party approached cautiously, ready to react to any sign of aggression. The orc, sensing their presence, glanced up briefly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes, before returning to her mournful task.


    "Hey there, who''s your friend?" Pierce asked softly, his gaze drawn to the injured drake.


    "I am Pierce, this is Evolon, Flint, and Ignis, and we are the Donner Party," Pierce introduced, pointing to each member in turn.


    "Grok," the orc rumbled, her voice deep and guttural. "And this is Bromli. Now go ahead and finish us, get it over with."


    The entire party was stunned. "Holy shit, they speak!" Evolon exclaimed.


    "You are the first orc we have encountered that is willing or able to speak," Pierce remarked, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. He signaled to his companions to stow their weapons.


    Pierce cast a Basic Heal spell on the injured drake, Bromli. The spell restored 57 health points, but the drake''s health percentage remained at a concerning 59%. He cast the spell again, bringing Bromli''s health to 100%. He turned to the orc with a curious smile.


    "You... you... why would you do this to us? We are sent to invade and dominate you. Why save us when killing is obviously within your means?" Grok asked, her head tilted in confusion.


    "I am a healer," Pierce explained. "I heal you not as an enemy, but as a weary traveler in obvious need of help. By the way, let me top you off as well, so you understand our intentions are pure." He cast a healing spell on Grok, fully restoring her health.


    "It matters not, for my life is forfeit," Grok replied, her gaze fixed on the fire.


    "Why is that?" Pierce asked, as the group settled around the campfire.


    "You see, I was never meant to be here," Grok explained, patting Bromli''s side. "I am just the caretaker of these beautiful beasts, not a warrior or rider. Gringlon was out all night drinking and reported back to camp poisoned. I was to take his place, flying around dominating the air as the invasion proceeded below us."


    "You seem like a nice orc," Pierce offered. "Can we make a trade? My group will help protect you and your drake if you can give us information." Pierce removed his gloves and warmed them by the fire.


    "Pfft, where could we go that is safe? This excursion is going to march through your lands like an unstoppable wave upon the shore, wiping out any resistance like the grains of sand you are," Grok scoffed, reciting propaganda with practiced ease.


    "Do you know the numbers behind your force, their levels, and what their goals are?" Pierce asked, not expecting much of an answer.


    "Numbers you ask..." Grok mused. "Even though we had little time and funds to prepare, there are millions of orcs standing in formation on my home planet, waiting to march into battle for the single hope of finding it. They are tasked with procuring sustenance and bringing captives to the second gate for interrogation. What we seek is a highly guarded secret, but seeing how you wield that healing magic, I assume you already know." Grok growled, revealing her sharp fangs.


    "Cadium?" Pierce whispered.


    "Or its carriers... alive and at all cost," the orc replied.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Why alive?" Pierce pressed.


    "Slay me and you shall find out," Grok hissed. "As I too am a carrier of the holy element. My unit has been passed down for more than a thousand generations as the clan Beast Master and trainer of the Flying Death!" She pointed to the small flag attached to the drake''s tail, depicting a three-clawed hand slashing forward.


    "Flying Death, that sounds like some fierce death from above shit!" Flint exclaimed, bowing his head in mock respect.


    "We once flew in the thousands, scouring planets, killing and eating to our hearts'' content," Grok reminisced. "But the leaders neglected us, and through attrition, our numbers dwindled. Their greed only paid for nine Drakes and riders for this excursion, as breeding or acquiring more Drakes is extremely costly. This is how the Beast Master of House Rishblavkoknush has fallen to die on this Manaless rock full of weak Humans."


    "Was that you in the air fighting with those Jets? Their bullets seemed to bounce off without doing any damage at all," Pierce inquired politely.


    "The Metal Beasts could not penetrate the shields of the Flying Death!" Grok explained. "But as a Trainer, I lack such magic, and their arrows caused much damage in little time. All of my children fell soon after their shield timers ended. I have a Motherlike bond with my Drakes, and Bromli here is the last alive in the clan. Without the Pack, there is no reason to continue living." She spoke resolutely, her gaze fixed on Pierce. "So all I ask in return for this trade is a quick end."


    "Nonsense," Evolon interjected, her maternal instincts kicking in. "You are both strong, with or without a pack! Fight at our side and return the favor to those bastards that sent your children to their deaths without a care."


    "What you say may be possible," Grok replied, "but Bromli is the last of his line, and I will not put him in harm''s way. You have saved us, and for that, I owe you a life debt, but if any harm comes to my last child, I will slaughter you all with my last breath!" She glared at each party member, her eyes filled with a fierce determination.


    "Can Bromli understand us, and does he understand distances like kilometers?" Pierce asked, a spark of inspiration igniting in his mind.


    "You can tell him, and he will understand," Grok replied, petting Bromli''s head.


    "Two and a half kilometers to the north is a cave with a large sign that says ''Bike Park,''" Pierce instructed. "Bromli should be safe there. Just follow the paths marked 8, 7, 6, 2. We can then find a way to stop this invasion, maybe get our people back, and get your revenge all at the same time."


    After a series of grunts, hisses, and clicks, Grok replied, "So you say, and so it will be."


    Bromli, the drake, rose to his feet and with a powerful flap of his wings, soared into the night sky, circling the area once before heading north, disappearing into the darkness.


    "I am eager for revenge, but do you have any sustenance I can eat, or do I need to hunt before we proceed?" Grok asked, her gaze fixed on the dark woods.


    Pierce summoned a large bag of beef jerky and tossed it to the orc. "So, how did you know I am a Carrier?" Pierce asked, gauging the orc''s knowledge of their magical capabilities.


    "Carriers can sense one another," Grok explained. "The more you carry, the stronger the sense. Other clues were how you wielded your healing magic spells quickly so many times without waiting, and the ability to heal over one hundred health in two casts leads me to believe you are a carrier with a very high level, at least fifty or sixty."


    "What if I were to tell you I had five Cadium?" Pierce asked.


    "I would say you were either supremely lucky to have found five, or you managed to slay four others to gain their Cadium," Grok replied. "I would tell you to never let anyone know this, ever, or you will be hunted by much more than this paltry excursion with nowhere to hide until you are brought before the council, killed, and your magic distributed to those loyal to the council. But that being said, there is little chance you carry such power, as I have only ever met two carriers of five, and their power far exceeded yours, puny human." Grok laughed.


    "What is the average amount of Cadium for a warrior?" Pierce asked cautiously.


    "One, never more than one," Grok replied. "Far too precious and expensive to have more than one. Warriors do not dare kill a Carrier of Cadium or they will be seen as too powerful and will be killed themselves to redistribute the magic to more loyal warriors that know their place in the hierarchy. Only Lieutenants, Generals, World Leaders, and Council Members may have more than one. The rumor is the order is 2, 5, 10, and 20, not that I have ever seen more than five myself. Usually, their levels are so high it''s tough to gauge how much of their power is Cadium and how much is attributed to levels." Grok explained, biting into the bag of jerky.


    "This leveling system, what can you tell me about it? What is the maximum level?" Pierce inquired.


    "Grok is only level 4," she explained. "I just took over as Beast Master, and leveling is strictly regulated within the clan so no one can challenge the leaders. My father chose to pass on the Cadium to me when he reached level 9, the maximum we Trainers are allowed to reach. I have seen level 20 Lieutenants, and heard of up to level 50, but there are rumors of a maximum level of 100, though with little proof behind them."


    "The ability to sense the power of another comes with being a Carrier," Grok said. "I am sure you have felt it, even when you look at me. You should have a deep feeling of wrongness when you look at a being more powerful than yourself."


    "I have felt no such feeling," London admitted. "If anything, this all feels far too easy, like we''re going through the motions as orcs fall at our feet." His friends nodded in agreement.


    "Your level must be 10 levels or higher than what you face then, the point where they are so easy you do not gain experience from them," Grok explained, a wide grin spreading across her face.


    "That must be it," London realized. "Without asking, we have no way to tell the level of our enemies."


    "Oh, these fodder are all level one inexperienced nooblings," Grok said. "I will accompany you and share what I know, but you are so powerful I doubt you need the likes of me in combat. Tomorrow I will follow from behind and observe, then figure out how I can best help the Lord Pierce, and the Mighty Donner Party!" she declared with a flourish.


    The party chuckled. "We require four to six hours of sleep," London asked. "How about orcs?"


    "Orcs are bred for battle," Grok explained, eating the whole bag of beef jerky, plastic and all "We require four hours of light work or two of sleep per day to remain at peak combat effectiveness."


    "We will sleep in shifts," London replied. "And while I am touched at your proclamation of a life debt, I hope you are not offended by a Human always being on watch, just in case." His party members nodded in agreement.


    "Trust is not easily earned in the clans," Grok said, closing her eyes. "But Honor is Honor, and a Life debt is a life debt. In time, you will come to know Grok''s word is stronger than Crantium, and likewise shall never be broken."


    The four party members silently played Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine the watch order, an old D&D habit now applied to their newfound reality. As the day drew to a close, they found themselves at the beginning of a strange and wonderful adventure, filled with magic and endless possibilities.

 YOU BURN DOWN ONE ORPHANAGE!

    Chapter 9


    The smell of bacon filled the morning air, rousing Pierce from his slumber. As he blinked open his eyes, a scene of morning activity unfolded before him.


    Evolon was gracefully flowing through a series of yoga poses, her movements as smooth as the river''s current. Flint, the burly man, was hunched over a cast-iron skillet, the sizzle of bacon filling the air as he flipped the fatty slices. Ignis, the Wizard, was shadow boxing with a furious intensity, flames dancing and crackling with each powerful punch.


    Grok, the towering orc, was nowhere to be seen. "Where''s our green-skinned friend?" Pierce inquired, his voice thick with sleep.


    "She''s gone for a morning dip in the stream," Flint replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "Insisted we all needed a wash. I think her nose is more sensitive than a bloodhound''s." He chuckled, oblivious to the grease smudging his boots.


    "Bacon?" Pierce asked, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.


    "Coming right up," Flint said, sliding two crispy slices onto a paper plate. "Enjoy."


    Pierce savored the crispy bacon, the grease slicking his fingers as he tore into it. He headed towards the gurgling stream, the sound of rushing water a welcome respite from the morning¡¯s tranquility. As he approached, he spotted Grok, her long, black hair tied in a neat bun atop her head. Clad in a simple leather skirt and top, she exuded both strength and a surprising grace.


    With a nod of acknowledgment, Pierce continued on his way, eager to cleanse himself of the blood and sweat of yesterday¡¯s battles. After a refreshing dip in the cool water, he returned to camp, his body feeling invigorated. ¡°Next!¡± he called out as he emerged from the woods, signaling his turn had ended.


    Thirty minutes later, as the sun began its ascent, the group gathered to discuss their next move. ¡°What¡¯s on the menu today, Boss?¡± Flint inquired, a mischievous glint in his eye.


    Pierce, rolling up his sleeping bag and stowing it away, replied, ¡°I need to have a chat with Grok first, but I have a rough plan in mind.¡±


    "First, are you okay with riding Bromli and scouting for us today? Second, how many beasts can you control? Third, can you only control Drakes? Fourth, do you have any offensive skills or spells? Fifth, how long does your control last on the beasts?" Pierce asked, ticking off each question on his fingers.


    Grok, her brow furrowed in concentration, responded in a series of short, concise statements. "As long as the skies are clear, Grok will scout for the Donner Party. Grok can control her level in beasts, currently four, including Bromli. Grok can control any non-sentient beast, but why would Grok control anything but Drake? Grok is a Trainer, not a Combat Rider... Grok can control beasts and talk in head. Once Grok establishes dominance, control is permanent until the death of either Grok or the Beast."


    Pierce''s eyes widened in confusion. "Wait, explain, talk in head?"


    Suddenly, a voice echoed in everyone''s mind, a direct line of communication bypassing the need for spoken words. "Grok talk in Head," Grok''s telepathic message resounded.


    Flint, ever the vocal one, couldn''t contain his astonishment. "WHAT THE FRANK JUST HAPPENED?!" his mental shout echoed through the minds of his companions.


    "Ahh, I understand," Evolon said aloud to the group, "Our Orc friend here can create a Telepathic Group Chat for the party. What is the range, and how many can you add?"


    Grok, speaking telepathically, replied, "Grok communicates with the minds of the group, also the minds of beasts. No mix the two, as beasts confuse your brains and make your brain bleed. Range is 5 kilometers, Grok talk to level times two, so eight right now"


    "Telepathic mental attack, got it!" Ignis added, his thoughts echoing in the minds of the group.


    "Ok, I think I have the hang of this now..." Evolon began, her thoughts turning into a song, "NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN!"


    Groans filled the mental chat, a collective sigh of annoyance from three of the five members.


    "Lady has voice of angel, Grok would like to hear more of this song!" Grok added, her thoughts filled with a strange mix of amusement and confusion.


    "BABY SHARK DO DO DO DO DO DO," Evolon''s mental singing continued, a relentless tune that threatened to drive the group mad.


    "Can you mute someone from this?" Pierce asked Grok out loud, a hint of desperation in his voice.


    "Grok can, but Grok loves this Child Shark that will never give Grok up!" Grok replied, twirling around with a childlike glee.


    "Seriously, I think I have a plan," Pierce announced in the mental chat. "Grok, call Bromli and circle above, scouting and alerting us to anything important. Guys, mount up, we''ve got to pick something up."


    "Where to, Boss?" Flint asked, taking the lead position with his Captain America shield mounted on his handlebars.


    "Do you guys remember that show we watched during the pandemic?" Pierce asked mentally.


    "Yes, but I''m not sure teaching Grok how to play Chess is going to help us," Flint replied, a puzzled expression on his face.


    "Not that one, the other one... Grok is going to be the Tiger Queen," Pierce said with a mental grin.


    "OHHHH, that makes so much more sense," Evolon replied, "I was thinking we were going to make a British Soccer club, teaching her life lessons and overcoming obstacles with the power of positivity."


    "Here I thought we were somehow going to Paris with a woman named Emily," Ignis added to the running joke.


    Switching from the dirt mountain bike trails to the concrete, 12-foot-wide Greenway, the group headed east, parallel to a road littered with abandoned and wrecked cars. The Greenway in this section was punctuated by various obstacles - jumps of different sizes, ramps, and drops. The group, skilled in mountain biking, effortlessly navigated these features, their bikes soaring through the air as they made their way towards a large sign by I-49: "Drive Through Safari" it read in huge, bold letters.


    "Grok, what do your Orc eyes see?" Pierce asked mentally.


    "Large open area, many fences, many strange animals, no Humans," Grok communicates telepathically.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The four riders sped down the large, open pathways, following the painted tiger paw prints. Pierce signaled for the Drake to land near a set of aluminum bleachers and a large open field, enclosed by a tall fence.


    "Choose three and get to work Dominating," Pierce instructed Grok.


    "So These are Tigers, They are no Drake, but I guess I could use some large House Pets for now," Grok muttered, her gaze fixed on three majestic tigers. With a focused concentration, she cast her spell, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. The Drake, sensing its master''s intent, soared above the fence and gently plucked each tiger from the ground, setting them down on the walkway outside.


    "Umm... Grok, they aren''t going to eat us, are they?" Ignis asked nervously, taking a cautious step back.


    "No, Grok tell them Humans are friends not food. No one eats the Donner Party!" Grok reassured the group, stroking the large male tiger.


    The four humans erupted in laughter.


    "What is funny about tigers not eating humans?" Grok asked, her expression puzzled.


    "I''ll explain it to you later, let''s get moving," Pierce said, chuckling.


    "When the battle starts, have one Tiger protect Evolon, one protect Ignis, and the big boy with Flint up front. I will keep them healed up," Pierce instructed the group mentally.


    With that, the unusual party set off. Three tigers, four humans on mountain bikes, and an Orc riding a Drake took to the road, their destination: the Walmart Home Office.


    "I do have a few questions for you, Grok, if you don''t mind," Evolon asked in the mental chat.


    "Grok can scout and talk at same time," Grok replied, ¡°Grok not dumb child!¡±


    "How do you speak English, and you said there is a second portal, why are there two?" the woman asked the Orc, her curiosity piqued.


    "Grok has family heirloom that allows communicate in all language, makes it easy to talk Beast and person," Grok explained. "Invasion has two portals. Both one way. Large Army portal, and small portal back to take food and captives for information, food, and slaves."


    A heavy silence fell over the group as they contemplated the grim fate of their fellow humans and the innocent animals caught in the crossfire.


    As they approached an intersection, Grok alerted the group to a large band of Orcs, at least fifty strong, marching from the open field towards the park. Pierce, assessing the situation, signaled for the group to dismount and began strategizing the ambush. He mentally outlined their positions and roles, preparing for the impending confrontation.


    Perched atop a towering sculpture of twisted metal car bumpers welded into the form of a spool of thread, Evolon drew her bow, her keen eyes fixed on the lead Orc. With a swift release, the arrow arced through the air, finding its mark. As quickly as she''d fired the first, she drew another, her movements fluid and precise.


    To her right, a spectacular display unfolded. Four massive hay bales, ignited by Ignis''s fiery magic, erupted into flames, blocking the Orcs'' advance. From the shadows of a colossal brick and concrete seashell sculpture, Flint stood as he and the large male tiger leaped into the fray. The dwarf''s shield flashed with arcane energy, his war cry echoing across the battlefield. Evolon, remembering the strange magical rules of this world, cast a Pierce spell on the tigers, hoping to enhance their natural weapons. A cool breeze washed over her, the work of Pierce''s healing magic.


    Flint, a whirlwind of titanium and fury, bashed the first Orc aside with his circular shield, the creature crumpling to the ground. The massive tiger, a blur of tawny fur, sank its teeth into its neck, a swift and deadly blow. With a powerful swing of his hammer, Flint crushed the skull of the next opponent, the weapon sinking into the flesh like butter. The third Orc, overconfident, swung his crude sword high, leaving himself vulnerable. Flint seized the opportunity, dipping under the sword, striking upwards with his hammer, the blow connecting with the Orc''s chin and sending him flying into his comrades. The startled Orcs were quickly overwhelmed by the tiger''s relentless assault ripping and tearing their flesh as Flint wipes blood from his face.


    On the right flank, a group of five Orcs, seeing Ignis as an easy target, charged forward. But their attack was thwarted by a sudden, ferocious counterattack. A tiger, leaping from the shadows, tore into the Orcs, its claws and teeth a deadly blur. Ignis, seizing the moment, unleashed a torrent of flame, engulfing the remaining Orcs and sending them screaming into oblivion.


    A dozen Orcs, their eyes filled with a feral intensity, advanced towards Evolon. She quickly switched arrow types, opting for the piercing variety. As the Orcs foolishly lined up, she took advantage of their predictable tactics. The first arrow tore through the first Orc, embedding deep within the second. The next arrow, a bolt of deadly precision, pierced the eye of one Orc and continued its trajectory, lodging itself in the neck of the one behind.


    Seeing their comrades fall with such devastating efficiency, the remaining eight Orcs panicked and retreated, fleeing back towards their base. Pierce, sensing the opportunity, signaled Grok to unleash her tiger pets, ordering them to hunt down the fleeing Orcs and finish the job.


    After the battle, the group gathered to assess their victory and draw lessons from the encounter. "Okay, what did we learn?" Pierce asked, his voice filled with curiosity.


    "These guys are falling like dominos," Evolon chuckled, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.


    "I like this overwhelming force thing we got going on," Ignis added, his eyes gleaming with excitement.


    "Tigers kill good, not as good as Drake, but still good. Their fangs are much more effective than I thought," Grok commented, her voice filled with a newfound respect for her feline companions.


    "That would be Evolon''s Pierce spell," Pierce explained, "It allows weapons to easily pierce through armor."


    "Grok likes this, can you cast on Drake Claws?" Grok asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.


    With a nod, Evolon cast the spell, imbuing the Drake''s claws with a newfound sharpness.


    "The sun is barely up and I''m covered in blood!" Flint exclaimed, pulling a bucket of water from his inventory and dousing himself.


    "Levels?" Pierce inquired.


    "Grok got level, choice five. Grok chose roar buff for Beast that increases movement and attack speed 30%, and decreases movement and attack speed of enemies that can hear by 30%," Grok announced.


    "HOLY BALLS, THAT IS INSANE!" Flint shouted, his voice filled with excitement. "I wonder if it stacks with my Challenge?"


    "Grok Beast Master class perk allows for each Beast to use Roar, though do not stack with each other, should work with your Challenge," Grok explained.


    "I got Shield Bash - Bashing an enemy with a shield can cause a shockwave in a frontal arc with a chance to throw enemies off balance. And a class perk that increases my armor by 20% when protecting a party member in combat," Flint explained.


    "I got Piercer, which allows arrows to easily pierce through one enemy when a second enemy is directly behind them. I also got a perk that makes bleeding from my arrows harder to stop and bleed damage is doubled," Evolon added.


    "I got Iceblast, which sends a large shard of ice damage at my target and freezes the area around them, causing the terrain to become frozen. My class perk is that myself and my allies gain increased resistance to the last spell type I cast for ten minutes," Ignis said with a maniacal laugh. ¡°Magic is Awesome!¡±


    "I want to try something," Ignis announced, unleashing a torrent of flames towards the open field. A moment later, a massive spear of ice shot forth, extinguishing the flames and freezing the surrounding area.


    "Check your buffs," Ignis said with a cocky grin.


    "Fire resistance +20% and Ice resistance +20%. Nice!" Evolon exclaimed. "I do wonder how using those spells back to back over and over works with hot steam, or making metals brittle. So many questions on the science behind all of this." Looking down with a frown she says ¡°And all I got is Bow girl shoot more good¡±


    "Bow girl shoot good not burn down house when have bad dreams," Grok offered, trying to cheer Evolon up.


    "Don''t go there," Pierce warned, poking at Ignis, "We don''t need him burning down another orphanage."


    "Save dozens of people and no one calls you a hero, BUT YOU BURN DOWN ONE ORPHANAGE!" Ignis laughed, referencing the classic D&D joke.


    Grok looked at Ignis with newfound respect. "You burn Human Children, why does the smoke improve taste?"


    "NO EATING HUMAN CHILDREN!" the four party members shouted in unison.


    "Grok no eat Human Children, but what about Tigers?" Grok asked, her curiosity piqued.


    Evolon summoned a dozen stripped Orc corpses. "Here, have them go to town on these guys. I already grabbed the loot."


    "This is a decent time for a break," Pierce announced, passing out bags of trail mix and bottles of beer.

 Throw me a few corpses

    Chapter 10


    After the decisive victory, the group continued their mission, heading south and east, circumnavigating the sprawling executive complex. They encountered numerous packs of Orcs, each engagement a chance to refine their tactics and test their newfound power.


    "I would have been fine, you didn''t have to heal me!" Flint grumbled to the healer, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and irritation.


    "I saw you go down, and your health dipped 9%. How was I to know you slipped on a pool of blood and bonked your head on your own shield?" Pierce retorted, a mischievous glint in his eye.


    "It''s okay, but good to know your spell can''t heal his pride," Evolon teased, poking Flint playfully with the tip of her bow.


    "I''d like to see you try fighting in a pit of blood, guts, and other foul smells I refuse to even attempt to identify," Flint grumbled, splashing himself with a bucket of water.


    "That would be urine and feces," Grok interjected dryly. "Orcs evacuate their bowels under extreme stress. It can often deter predators with heightened senses of smell."


    "GROSS DUDE! This is why I play a Wizard and not a tank!" Ignis exclaimed, wiping nonexistent dust off his shoulders.


    "GRRRRR!" Flint roared, swinging his fluid-covered arm purposefully splashing his companions.


    The group continued their mission, veering more south than east, picking off smaller groups of Orcs as they went. As they approached a residential area, Grok alerted the group to an unusual sight. "I see two moving from house to house to your left. They don''t appear to be Orcs," she reported.


    "Be ready for anything," Pierce warned the group.


    Two men emerged from separate houses, each clad in an orange jumpsuit and a pair of orange Crocs. They carried pillowcases filled with stolen goods, their movements halting as they spotted Pierce and Flint.


    "Well, well, well, what do we have here, Bosco?" the taller of the two men asked, scratching a tattoo on his cheek.


    "Is this them Mighty Morphin Power Rangers? Are they here to save the day?" the second man laughed, a wheezy chuckle escaping his lips. He dropped his pillowcase, a bottle of prescription medication rolling out onto the ground.


    "Shorty there thinks he''s MC Hammer," the first man mocked, pointing at his companion.


    "HAMMER MAN, HAMMER, HAMMER MAN, HAMMER!" the second man chanted, performing an awkward dance.


    "Put that thing down before you hurt yourself," the first man warned. "Now run along to your comic book convention before you get hurt."


    "I see you just got out of Benton County Lockup. I somehow doubt it was for good behavior. Why don''t you go back into those nice people''s homes and put the things back that you''ve taken?" Pierce demanded, his voice stern. He discreetly pulled his climbing pick from his inventory, concealing it behind his back.


    "This here, now this house belongs to me, well my girlfriend and you see she owes me so I come to collect," the tall man explained unconvincingly.


    "Ooohh, is this one of those Cowboy Face-offs? Where we both talk shit to each other until one side backs down or the violence starts?" Flint asked, idly slapping his massive sledgehammer.


    "Naah, this is just a couple of friendly people having a conversation. And you want to be friendly, don''t ya?" the first man replied, as both he and his partner pulled out kitchen knives, wielding them with surprising skill.


    "The problem with that is you think you have a say in the matter," Pierce countered, revealing his climbing pick.


    "Look at him, Bosco, give a boy a scary weapon and he thinks he''s a killer," the first man mocked.


    "Doesn''t look like a killer to me. Looks like someone sticking his nose in somebody''s business about to get it cut off," the second man taunted, advancing towards the group.


    "You have exactly five seconds to put your weapons down, put the items you have taken back, and head over to County Lockup and check in," Pierce warned, mentally signaling his group to attack if the men made any aggressive moves.


    "Five, four, three," Pierce counted down.


    "What are you gonna do if we don''t just turn tail and run? Call the Po-lease on us? Looks like your cellphones aren''t working right now, who''s gonna come save you when the bad man comes?" the first man sneered, lunging forward.


    "I am," Evolon declared, stepping from behind a tree and firing an arrow that struck the tall man in the neck.


    "Me too," Ignis added, firing a shard of ice that struck the smaller man, freezing the ground beneath them.


    Seconds passed, and the two men lay motionless on the icy ground.


    "It''s over," Pierce said, his gaze meeting his friends''. "I hate that we had to do that to our own kind, but they gave us no other choice."


    As they were leaving the scene, Grok asked, "What are you going to do with the bodies? Orc culture is to eat the dead so their loss fuels the next generation''s body and spirit."


    "WE DON''T EAT HUMANS!" the group exclaimed in unison.


    "Oh, okay, I understand now. The Donner Party does not eat humans," Grok replied, taking to the skies to scout the area.


    "This joke is starting to get old," Pierce muttered to the group chat. "Someone needs to explain it to her tonight."


    "I rather like it," Evolon mused. "A little laugh every now and then is nice with the heavy weight in the air, you know, life on the line, violence and all."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "She''s the classic fish-out-of-water comic relief I never knew I needed," Flint agreed, waving up at the flying Orc.


    As the group continued their journey south and east, they received alarming news: a massive horde of over 200 Orcs was marching towards a group of over 100 humans near Pinnacle Mall. Pierce, a master tactician, quickly devised an ambush strategy. He led the group to a strategic location, a high ground overlooking the approaching Orcs.


    Evolon and Ignis, perched atop the hill, rained down arrows and spells, picking off Orcs with deadly precision. Pierce, meanwhile, healed the injured humans, his healing spells rippling through the crowd, mending wounds and restoring strength. Flint and his three tigers charged into the fray, drawing the Orcs'' attention and provoking a frenzied assault on the hill.


    The Orcs, unable to gain a foothold on the steep incline, were overwhelmed by the combined forces of the heroes. One by one, they fell, their bodies piling up at the base of the hill. When the last Orc was defeated, the battlefield was silent, save for the crackling flames that consumed the fallen.


    Pierce and Evolon approached the group of rescued humans, offering words of comfort and assurance. Meanwhile, Flint and Ignis, ever the loot goblins, looted the fallen Orcs and set their bodies ablaze, a bonfire the only trace of their existence.


    "Hey there, what brings you here?" Pierce joked with the group of shocked humans.


    "We were hunkering down at Dave and Busters when these monsters burst in and killed or beat anyone who resisted. Thank you so much!" a man with a nametag on his shirt identifying him as Oscar, a manager at Dave and Busters.


    "You''re relatively safe now. For now, there''s a clear path north and west. I suggest rallying at Crystal Bridges, where we''ve sent other groups," Evolon advised the disheveled group.


    "Who are you, what authority do you have?" a large man in a security guard uniform demanded.


    "We''re the group of humans who just saved you from being eaten by a horde of Orcs," Flint replied, his voice laced with irritation.


    "Eaten?" a young girl in the middle of the pack asks with fear in her voice.


    "What do you think they''re grouping you up for?" Flint muttered.


    "A bit of fear is enough to motivate them," Evolon cautioned in the mental chat. "Don''t frighten that child to death."


    "Oscar, do you know the Greenway Path towards Crystal Bridges?" Pierce asked.


    "Miguel does, he bikes that way to work every day. MIGUEL!" Oscar shouted.


    A teenage boy stepped forward, gingerly testing his leg, which was recently splinted. "Yes, I know the way, but are you sure it''s safe?" he asked.


    "We just left that area four hours ago and we cleaned it out for now. If you hurry, you should be safe," Pierce assured him.


    "How are you hurting them? We tried baseball bats and shots from a rent-a-cop''s revolver, and those monsters just shrug it off," Oscar asked, his voice filled with disbelief.


    "I guess we''re just lucky," Ignis replied, a hint of arrogance in his tone.


    After bidding farewell to the group of humans, the party continued their journey south, navigating the vast parking lots of Pinnacle Hills Promenade. Their eyes in the sky, ever vigilant for any threats. As they moved between the countless wrecked cars, they carefully picked their way through the chaotic landscape.


    The group paused for a brief lunch, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions growing louder with each passing moment.


    "Sounds like the National Guard came up from Fort Chaffee and is givin'' ''em hell!" Flint exclaimed over the mental chat.


    "Looks like the southeast is still the way to go," Pierce decided. "We can get information and help clear up this side of town. Grok, we''re going to need you to land and send Bromli back to the cave. It may not be safe in the skies for a bit."


    With that, Grok landed, and Bromli flew low back towards the cave. The group continued their journey, following the Railyard Loop Trail through Rogers. They encountered several more groups of Orcs, easily dispatching them with their combined skills.


    The group moved cautiously through the streets of downtown Rogers, splitting into pairs: Pierce and Flint, Evolon and a tiger, Ignis and a tiger, and Grok with the large male tiger. They scanned each street and alley, their senses alert for any signs of danger.


    As they approached the Railyard bike park, the sound of gunfire grew louder and more frequent. Without the aerial perspective of Grok''s dragon, the group was forced to proceed with caution.


    Suddenly, they stumbled upon a group of fifteen humans, clad in various camouflage gear and armed with a mix of hunting rifles, AR-15s, compound bows, and even a crossbow. The lead man, dressed in a military uniform, pointed his weapon at Pierce and Flint. "Halt! Declare your intentions," he demanded.


    "Hey there, friend," Pierce replied calmly. "We''re just a few mountain bikers out here clearing out an infestation of Orcs."


    "Oh really, I don''t see any weapons other than shorty there with his sledge," the Army man scoffed.


    "If you follow the Railyard Loop and Greenway north and east to Crystal Bridges, you''ll find heaping piles of Orc corpses every half mile or so. That''s our handiwork. If you want further proof, ask the several groups of survivors at the museum, and they''ll corroborate our story," Pierce explained.


    "That''s all well and good, but I need some proof right here and now," the man countered. "You don''t look like you could fight off a six-year-old girl with that biker gang getup you got going on." His group spread out, taking cover behind various obstacles.


    "Evolon, throw me a few corpses," Pierce requested over the mental link.


    Chaos erupted as four naked Orc corpses arced through the air, landing between the two groups. The soldiers, startled by the sudden appearance of the bodies, instinctively opened fire, their bullets piercing the lifeless forms.


    "As you can see, those were already dead," Pierce says, checking his party for injuries from behind cover.


    "That one needs to learn how to aim," Flint added, plucking a squished bullet from his shield and tossing it aside. He pointed at a young teenage boy who was struggling to hold a rifle almost as tall as himself.


    "Dammit, Jonesy!" a rotund man scolded, slapping the boy with his hat.


    "I''ve shown you mine, what information do you have from the South?" Pierce asked, turning the conversation back to the matter at hand.


    "Diamond Hogs Air National Guard out of Fort Smith are all down and MIA. The Governor has rallied the Guard out of Fort Chaffee, and they''re holding a line from XNA to Hickory Creek in the general area of Highway 264. They got Tanks, APCs, MLRs, even some old M109s bombarding the area. Being understaffed, they''re sending out NCOs with groups of hunters across the line on a sweep and clear. About now, there should be endless trains pulling into Little Rock coming from all over the South. They''re going to flood this area with guns and bombs. We are to go house to house and ensure all civilians have evacuated before the bombardment moves North," the man explained, spreading a map on the hood of a Tesla and pointing out various locations.


    "Well, we will head further west and north back towards the Home Office, which is where they have an honest-to-god magic portal with Orcs streaming out two by two," Pierce countered, tracing a route on the map.


    "Sounds good, clear what you can. I can''t deputize you or anything, but if anyone gives you any shit, tell them Sergeant Eugene Cox sent ya," the man instructed, rallying his troops.


    "Hold on a second," Pierce interrupted. "Evolon, cast Pierce on all their guns," he ordered.


    "What?" the Sergeant asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion.


    "No problem believing Orcs or a magic portal, but someone casts a spell and the disbelief comes out. This will allow all your bullets to easily pierce their armor for the next ten minutes. Go quickly and make it count," Evolon explained, touching the barrels of each weapon, including the bows and crossbows.


    "I''m not sure whether to thank you or curse you. Well, we''ll see how this goes," the Sergeant muttered, squinting at Pierce.


    "Godspeed, and good hunting," Flint added, slapping the soldier on the back.

 Grok would crush your pelvis into dust!

    Chapter 11


    "Let''s head west and north to the castle, then we can bed down tonight in The Vault," Pierce communicated telepathically to the group. Nods of agreement rippled through the group as they mounted their bikes. Grok, ever vigilant, summoned Bromli and took to the skies, scouting the path ahead.


    The group encountered countless hordes of Orcs, each encounter a testament to their skill and adaptability. They fell back when necessary, pressed forward when advantageous, and expertly lured the dim-witted Orcs into carefully planned ambushes.


    The group navigated the treacherous terrain with ease, their mountain bikes soaring over jumps and weaving through obstacles. Evolon, in a breathtaking display of skill, executed a perfect backflip, her bike twirling in the air before landing gracefully. They eventually reached the circular castle trailhead north of Bentonville, a strategic vantage point overlooking the valleys to the north and south.


    "YAH BRAH, DID YOU SEE THAT SICK FLIP!" Evolon exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.


    "I finally nailed the toe tap on the Movie Reel!" Pierce grinned, his face beaming with pride.


    "I don''t know what it is, but after two days of battle, jumping off a silly 20-foot drop seems like nothing now," Ignis admitted, a sense of accomplishment evident in his voice.


    "I know, right? You just sent it. I''m really proud of your progress, man!" Flint said, slapping Ignis on the back.


    "Quick break here, then we work our way towards the camp. I''ll have to go in first and explain, then we can bring the cats and Grok," Pierce announced, distributing drinks, food, water, and fresh meat to the group and their animal companions.


    "This castle is puny, very bad defense, Grok would never live here," Grok commented, her voice filled with disdain.


    "This is part of a bike park, it''s for fun, not for defense," Pierce explained, chewing on a piece of beef jerky and sipping from a Monster energy drink.


    Grok gave him a look of incomprehension but didn''t say anything.


    After the short break, the group headed north towards a tunnel beneath the interstate, leading to a highly secure mountain bunker known as The Vault.


    "What''s in The Vault? It sounds fun," Evolon asked curiously.


    "It''s one of Walmart''s server vaults, located in an old abandoned mine beneath the Ozark Mountains. It should be highly secure, but since it''s the weekend, it''s likely only manned by a few people, if they haven''t already left to take care of their families," Pierce explained as he launched himself off a large rock, soaring down the trail.


    "Will the lights still be on?" Flint wondered.


    "Should be. They have a huge locomotive generator and enough battery backups to last weeks off the grid," Pierce assured him.


    A few minutes later, the group set up another ambush, this time targeting a group of Orcs marching single file down the bike path. They executed the ambush with precision, eliminating every Orc without causing unnecessary collateral damage. Ignus, in particular, displayed remarkable control over his elemental powers, using fire and ice in tandem without burning any trees down.


    Pierce approached a large parking lot, leading to a concrete slope descending into the ground. He swiped his badge, and the door clicked open.


    "Oh my God, all data connections are down! All we have is an ancient weather radio to get news from. What is going on?!?" the short woman behind the front desk exclaimed, her voice filled with panic.


    "Well, magic, Orc invasion, National Guard in Lowell, that''s about it. Do you mind if we camp in the lounge tonight before heading out tomorrow to hunt more Orcs?" Pierce asked calmly.


    The woman cocked her head to the side, her mouth agape as she tried to process Pierce''s words. "Umm, sure, I guess. It''s just me and Augustus, the weekend tech, here right now. Do you have any food? We raided the vending machines, but you can only eat so many Doritos and Swiss Rolls before you get sick."


    Pierce smiled and pulled out a large bag of trail mix. "That''s about all I got. Is the coffee machine still well-stocked?"


    "Beans stacked to the sky, as always!" the woman replied, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the trail mix.


    "I have to warn you, a few of my party are a bit weird... but they''re all okay, been hunting Orcs with us all day, so I vouch for them," Pierce cautioned.


    "As long as they sign into the log and wear a visitor''s badge, I don''t care who you bring in," the woman replied with a shrug.


    "I''ll hold you to that," Pierce said with a smile, mentally signaling his party to enter. The woman''s eyes widened in surprise as she saw the three tigers and the towering Orc woman walk through the door.


    "What? They''ll sign the log, but I''m not sure if our fluffy friends here will wear the badge," Pierce chuckled.


    Leading the way, Pierce guided the group to a large, well-lit lounge, filled with couches, tables, televisions, and even a room with eight bunk beds. "This is us. I''ve spent too many nights here when things go sideways and it''s all hands on deck. Restrooms are that way, showers that way, bunks this way, couches, you can charge your phones, and best of all... there''s this baby," Pierce said, pointing to a massive coffee grinder with a 300-pound hopper filled with high-quality coffee beans.


    "This is a dream," Evolon muttered, her eyes fixed on the coffee grinder.


    "Grok is very interested in this bean juice you talk of," Grok said, reaching into the hopper and munching on a handful of coffee beans.


    "Oh yes, very refreshing!" Grok replied, crunching on the beans.


    "Let''s get some rest. In the morning, I''ll show you how all this works," Pierce announced, redirecting Grok''s attention to the couches. "Evolon, I nominate you to show Grok here how to use the toilets and showers."


    "Why? Because I''m the only other one with a vagina? You men are so uncomfortable around a naked woman who doesn''t want to sleep with you. When I was backpacking through Europe, going from hostel to hostel, men weren''t such prudes," Evolon retorted.


    "Sorry, this isn''t Starship Troopers. We''re not quite as progressive as you''re used to," Flint joked.


    "I don''t know, I might give it a go with Grok. She has an alluring physique," Ignis teased, leering at the Orc.


    "Grok would crush your pelvis into dust," she replied, her gaze unwavering.


    "NEVERMIND! I wish to remain uncrushed!" Ignis exclaimed, scrambling towards the men''s shower.


    "Oh come on, I''ll heal you afterward, just don''t kill him, Grok," Pierce chuckled.


    "Grok not kill, Grok only break and bruise puny human," Grok assured him with a grin.


    "NO THANK YOU, I''M OUT!" Ignis yelped, accelerating faster towards the shower door.


    "Normally, I''d be offended, but you''re both adults, and Grok here can definitely defend herself," Evolon said, joining in the amusement.


    "You laugh, but Grok would also break you," Grok warned, locking eyes with Evolon.


    "NOPE, NOPE, NOPE, NOPE, NOPE!" Evolon cried, dashing towards the women''s shower.


    "Are you forgetting, Grok? You''re supposed to show her how to use modern showers!" Pierce reminded her.


    "What about you, do you want a piece of Grok?" Grok asked aggressively, her eyes glinting with challenge.


    "I think we''re good," Flint replied, nervously chuckling. "We''ll get you home and find a nice Orc boy for you. Or girl, if that''s your thing, we don''t judge."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    As they relaxed, winding down for the day, the group discussed their progress.


    "Even though Pierce got there first, we all managed to catch up to him, and for some reason, can''t get past level 10," Flint complained.


    "You only gain experience killing enemies up to ten levels below you," Grok explained. "Most invasion Orcs killed are level one, so you''re stuck until you find more difficult enemies."


    "Right away, I see three big things with level 10," Pierce began, pulling up his character sheet. "The Mental Multiplier from Cadium doubled, causing a HUGE boost in mana, mana regen, and spell strength, and even adding 10 to wisdom and intelligence. I got a spell called Boon, a buff lasting 10 minutes that increases HP, Mana, HP regen, and Mana regen, costing 20 mana. I got a class perk that can double the mana of a beneficial spell to turn it into an area of effect with a radius of my Cadium in meters. I could buff and heal a whole army!"


    Name: Impiercenator


    Healer Level 10


    0 stat points available


    23 Defense


    19 Strength


    19 Dexterity


    19 Stamina


    29 Constitution


    29 Wisdom


    30 Intelligence


    513 Cadium


    87 Hit Points


    547 Mana


    54 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    8 HP regen/10 seconds


    86 Spell Strength


    32 Physical Damage


    513 meter casting distance


    5130 inventory slots


    Spells Known:


    Basic Heal


    Cure Ailment


    Boon


    Class Perks:


    Overhealth


    Spell Cascade


    "YOU HAVE 513 CADIUM????!!!!" Grok exclaimed, ¡°Grok entire planet not have 513 Cadium¡±  her voice filled with disbelief.


    "It''s cool, here on Earth, we just have more Cadium than you silly Orcs" Flint replied, waving off her concern.


    "My turn!" Evolon declared, listing off her stats. "Critical makes all shots into weak points auto-crit, causing double damage. Harvest creates a pool of Harvest Points with every kill, with a maximum of my max hit point number. I can use that pool to heal myself, allies, or add damage to my next arrow."


    Name: Evolon


    Archer Level 10


    0 stat points available


    31 Defense


    7 Strength


    28 Dexterity


    7 Stamina


    5 Constitution


    8 Wisdom


    6 Intelligence


    27 Cadium


    48 Hit Points


    37 Mana


    3 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    4 HP regen/10 seconds


    12 Spell Strength


    42 Physical Damage


    27 meter casting distance


    270 inventory slots


    Spells Known:


    Pierce


    Piercer


    Harvest


    Class Perks:


    Bleed


    Critical


    "Who needs a second healer when Pierce there can do it while napping in a lazyboy?" Ignis jokes.


    "That was once, and just to see if it would make me seem like an easy target!" Pierce retorted defensively.


    "Ohh, I got something good too!" Flint declared, sharing his stats. "Shockwave radiates damage in a circle around me for my Cadium in meters when I hit a vulnerable spot on an enemy. Bastion allows me to create a shield around myself or an ally, decreasing all incoming damage by 50% for my Cadium in seconds. That sounds super balanced and totally not going to abuse it at all!"


    Name: Flint


    Fighter Level 10


    0 stat points available


    21 Defense


    19 Strength


    13 Dexterity


    6 Stamina


    12 Constitution


    5 Wisdom


    4 Intelligence


    22 Cadium


    52 Hit Points


    29 Mana


    2 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    5 HP regen/10 seconds


    9 Spell Strength


    34 Physical Damage


    22 meter casting distance


    220 inventory slots


    Spells Known:


    Challenge


    Shield Bash


    Bastion


    Class Perks:


    Armor


    Shockwave


    "Calm down, OH MY GOD I AM A FREAKING TIMELORD!!!" Ignis exclaimed. "Timestop allows me to stop time for my Cadium in seconds, costing my Cadium in mana. During this time, enemies in range are frozen while friendlies are able to act normally. Doublecast allows me to cast two spells simultaneously for double the mana cost. KISS MY BUTT, DOCTOR STRANGE!!"


    Name: Ignis


    Fighter Level 10


    0 stat points available


    9 Defense


    4 Strength


    5 Dexterity


    5 Stamina


    7 Constitution


    16 Wisdom


    17 Intelligence


    20 Cadium


    23 Hit Points


    45 Mana


    4 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    4 HP regen/10 seconds


    27 Spell Strength


    4 Physical Damage


    20 meter casting distance


    200 inventory slots


    Spells Known:


    Fireblast


    Iceblast


    Timestop


    Class Perks:


    Resistance


    Doublecast


    "Grok feel inadequate with one Cadium, where Grok once felt honored to have any Cadium at all... I get increased sense to danger sense and a spell to replenish my beast''s health and stamina," Grok admitted, her voice tinged with melancholy.


    Name: Grok


    Beast Master Level 10


    0 stat points available


    12 Defense


    7 Strength


    7 Dexterity


    5 Stamina


    7 Constitution


    9 Wisdom


    8 Intelligence


    1 Cadium


    26 Hit Points


    14 Mana


    1 Mana Regen/10 seconds


    2 HP regen/10 seconds


    12 Spell Strength


    20 Physical Damage


    1 meter casting distance


    10 inventory slots


    Spells Known:


    Charm Animal


    Roar


    Mend of the Wild


    Class Perks:


    Beastly Roar


    Sense Danger


    "Grok did you say only the most trusted Orcs on your planet only have one to five Cadium? I feel like we could just walk through them like a scythe through wheat," Flint boasted, slapping his chest.


    "This is true, but you forget levels, and as Pierce likes to say, you cannot heal them to death," Grok replied, finally calming down from the shock of her party''s collective Cadium power.


    As night fell, the group settled down for the night, the party giving Grok and the tigers a wide berth. The next morning, Pierce''s phone alarm shattered the silence, rousing the group from their slumber. He woke them up and showed them how to use the industrial-sized coffee grinder and espresso machine.


    "You seriously expect me to do all that? Just give me something hot and strong!" Flint grumbled, walking over to a table and grabbing a cinnamon roll.


    The rest of the group placed their orders, gathering around the table and enjoying their breakfast.


    "What do I look like as a Waffle House waiter? Wait, I wonder what Northwest Arkansas looks like on the Waffle House index? I bet they''re all open and serving food in the middle of the apocalypse," Pierce chuckled, bringing the drinks to his party.


    "Yeah, with a band of redneck hunters protecting the little yellow building like it''s the White House," Ignis laughed.


    The party exited The Vault and met up with Bromli, strategizing their next move as they made their way back to the Home Office.


    "So, Grok, where is that second portal? The plan is to fight our way to it, go through, and do whatever is needed to close the portal to our world. I think the Army can handle the Orcs here now, but not a constant flow of endless Orcs" Pierce explained.


    "Small Portal is near big portal, but Grok is not sure where. Grok must make you aware, when you close the portal, you will be stuck on Grok''s planet," Grok warned through the mental link.


    "We''re aware, but if it''s to save our town, that''s what we''re willing to do," Pierce replied, his determination unwavering.


    "Grok will find you beautiful Orc women who not break you, you live comfortable life as strong Adventurers on Grok''s world," Grok promised.


    "Who opened the door for Grok to be a matchmaker? I am perfectly capable of finding my own beautiful Orc woman to settle down with," Ignis retorted in the mental chat.


    Dismounting their bikes, the group spread out, with Grok providing aerial support. They stealthily approached the small portal, bypassing a larger portal and its constant flow of orcs. The Donner Party, along with their formidable allies, swiftly dispatched the two guards and darted through the smaller portal, disappearing into the unknown.

 Is that the one where we hide inside a dead pig at a luau

    Chapter 12


    Pierce hurtled through the iridescent rift, a swirling vortex of blue and white light. For a fleeting moment, he glimpsed the other side, a distorted reflection as if peering through the tranquil surface of a pond. A vague, indistinct form shimmered beneath the surface, tantalizingly out of reach. A jolt of disorienting energy coursed through his body, a sensation akin to falling asleep and being abruptly awakened. His mind was a fog, a consequence of the tumultuous journey through the dimensional breach. As the haze cleared, he found himself back in a familiar state of mind.


    Without hesitation, he mentally commanded his party to attack. "Kill them all!" he declared, his voice a silent whisper in the minds of his allies. "Hopefully, this portal will seal itself, preventing further incursions into our world."


    The party sprang into action, their weapons drawn and spells at the ready. The air crackled with magical energy as they confronted the otherworldly creatures on this side of the rift.


    The dim, flickering light of torches illuminated the cavernous barn, casting eerie shadows across the stone walls. A cacophony of roars, grunts, and panicked animal cries filled the air as creatures of all shapes and sizes were herded into crudely constructed pens. Pierce, his senses heightened, quickly assessed the situation. They had been transported to a dark, foreboding place, a sinister operation designed to capture and confine beings from other worlds.


    As he moved through the chaos, casting healing spells upon his wounded companions, he couldn''t help but marvel at the absurdity of their predicament. "Where the hell did they find a peacock?" Flint exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief as he landed a powerful punch.


    Grok, the fearsome orc warrior, chuckled. "Large bird feed many orc, is peacock delicious?" She asked, her tone casual as he commanded her loyal tiger mounts to attack.


    Evolon, ever the jokester, offered a more enlightened perspective. "No, peacock is a beautiful bird, highly revered on Earth with whole religions based around its beauty," she explained, her arrow finding its mark.


    "We''re clear!" Ignus shouted, extinguishing the flames that had engulfed a hulking orc warrior.


    "That one is Heavy Guard, those two are Wizards to keep the portal open," Grok explained. "If we remain for more than five minutes without a wizard casting a spell, the portal will close. Very hard to reopen, many resources needed."


    Pierce quickly devised a battle plan. "Sounds good to me," he said. "I see two doors. Let''s park the tigers hidden by one, Flint by the other, Grok and Bromli to the rafters, Evolon head to the middle of one of the walls without a door, Ignis to the other. I will stay in the middle."


    "Stay away from the cages," Ignis warned, just as Evolon yelped after being nipped by an angry chihuahua.


    "Good news is communication now stop," Grok explained. "Orcs on this side get no new news from Earth, eventually come to see what wrong, but usually no news is good news."


    With their positions secured, the group settled into a tense vigil. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional growl of a caged beast. As the minutes ticked by, they waited, ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.


    A hush fell over the group as a small orc, pushing a metal cart of empty cages, entered the room. Before the creature could react, Flint sprang into action, a swift blow from his hammer silencing the orc forever.


    "I feel bad about that one," Flint muttered, dragging the body to the side. "Not sporting to sneak up on ya like that, but a job''s a job."


    Pierce, moved the empty cages into a corner, clearing the line of sight.


    A few moments later, two more orcs emerged from the same door. Flint, with practiced efficiency, dispatched one, while Ignis and Evolon combined their efforts to eliminate the other.


    "You know, it would be nice to get some help dragging these bastards around," Flint grumbled, adding the two bodies to the growing pile, after looting their weapons and armor of course.


    "So far, it seems fresh troops come from Flint''s side, and incoming captives head out the door by the tigers," Evolon observed, pointing out the stark contrast between the empty cages on one side and the full on the other.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "After the portal dissipates, I have an idea," Pierce announced. "Get ready to open all the cages and herd the animals out both doors. We will head out the door by Flint, where they won''t expect us."


    "Grok, you have six more slots to control beasts," Ignis suggested. "How about some of those big nasties over there?" He pointed to a group of large, aggressive dogs, each confined to its own cage, yet still snarling and snapping at the next.


    "They are no tiger," Grok grumbled, "but I guess they will do." With a muttered incantation, she cast a powerful spell, dominating the minds of the six largest dogs. Instantly, the cacophony of barking and snarling subsided, replaced by a tense silence.


    Evolon, with ease, swung open the cage doors. One by one, the massive dogs emerged, their demeanor transformed. They walked with a newfound purpose, a sense of calm authority. Without hesitation, they approached the tigers, their bodies relaxing as they settled into the warm embrace of the feline creatures. A collective sigh escaped the group as the once chaotic barn fell silent.


    Evolon then turned her attention to the beasts, casting a potent enchantment to enhance their natural abilities.


    "Six killer dogs, three tigers, and a drake walk into a barn, tell me if you''ve heard this one before," Flint quipped, a wry smile playing on his lips.


    Just as he finished his joke, a group of five orcs and two wizards march into the barn. Flint, ever the opportunist, leaped from his hiding spot, a swift blow from his hammer silencing one of the wizards. The tigers and dogs, unleashed and empowered, surged forward, a whirlwind of claws and teeth. Evolon and Ignis, their skills honed by countless battles, quickly dispatched the remaining wizard, leaving the remaining orcs to be overwhelmed by the ferocious creatures.


    As the final orc met a grisly end, the portal began to shrink, within seconds, it had dwindled to a mere pinprick, then vanished without a trace.


    "Okay, Operation Jailbreak, GO, GO, GO, GO!" Pierce shouted, the urgency in his voice palpable. The group sprang into action, releasing the captive animals from their cages. A chaotic stampede ensued as dogs, cats, birds, pigs, cows, and even a few bewildered emus poured out of the barn.


    The group followed the panicked animals through a labyrinth of underground tunnels, their path illuminated by sporadic torches. At each intersection, Grok, with her keen instincts, guided them along the correct path. Eventually, they emerged into a vast warehouse, filled with crates labeled in an alien script.


    "We take cover here," Grok declared, "I send dogs to map and find way out."


    "We need to find the invasion portal," Pierce said, his eyes scanning the warehouse. "Think you can do that, Grok?"


    As the group fortified their position behind a makeshift barricade of crates, they awaited the return of the canine scouts.


    "Yes, now hush while Grok make map," Grok muttered, pulling out a leather-bound book and a peculiar red pencil. As she began to sketch, the six dogs, her loyal scouts, dispersed, each taking a different path through the labyrinthine tunnels.


    "Two orc here, four orc here, exit here with sky above, many orc here dog killed by many orc, must be portal room," Grok reported, her finger tracing the map.


    "You are freaking awesome, Grok!" Flint exclaimed, slapping her on the back. "I can smash people in the head with a hammer, and you can just casually map an enemy base in minutes with disposable minions. I think I got the wrong end of the magic stick!"


    A mischievous grin spread across Pierce''s face. "Slight change of plans," he announced, producing a stack of wizard robes identical to those worn by the orc wizards they had encountered. He distributed the robes among the group, a spark of mischief in his eyes.  ¡°We''re going to pull off an inside man!¡±


    "Sweet, I looted the other four but really don''t think the splash of red blood went with the bright blue and silver look they got going on, wait, inside man is that the one where we hide inside a dead pig at a luau?" Ignis remarked, donning the wizard''s robe and pulling the hood over his head.


    ¡°No, its the one where Pierce seduces a man and hides the package inside¡­ nevermind¡± Evolon says with a laugh.


    ¡°No you morons, its where we dress up like the bad guys, get close, and kill the bad guys we dressed up as.  We have only done it like fifty times in D&D!¡±  Pierce growls.


    The group, now cloaked in the guise of wizardly deception, marched down the corridor, their canine and feline companions trailing behind. As they entered the cavern, a breathtaking sight unfolded before them. A vast, cavernous space, dwarfing any human-made structure, stretched out into the distance. Countless orcs, like ants in a colony, moved in a ceaseless procession. Some received weapons, others armor, and all, without question, submitted to the inspection of a towering orc overlord. Once deemed fit, they vanished into a large portal, a gateway their home world.


    A scowl creased Pierce''s brow as he fell into line behind Grok. He peered through the watery portal, the stark contrast between the sunlit world and the dimly lit cavern a stark reminder of the world they plan to leave behind if successful.


    The group approached the five orc wizards, each member positioning themselves behind a target. With a silent, telepathic countdown, they struck. Pierce, with a swift and decisive motion, plunged his ice pick into the back of the nearest wizard''s skull. In a blur of motion, he looted the fallen wizard''s body, a grim efficiency realizing this is the first time he has actually used the weapon.


    Chaos erupted as the remaining orcs scrambled to react. The once orderly procession descended into a frenzied battle. The tigers and dogs, unleashed, tore into the unsuspecting orcs, while the human heroes, cloaked in their stolen robes, unleashed their own brand of mayhem.

 Grok the Pelvis Crusher

    Chapter 13


    Ignis, with a swift, decisive motion, unleashed the power of Timestop, freezing the chaotic scene before them. Three icy blasts erupted from his fingertips, each seeking a critical point: the entrance they had used, the opposite doorway, and the stone stairway leading to the portal. The world was held frozen like a renaissance painting, the orcs mid-stride, their roars stifled.


    The Dogs and Tigers, with a thunderous chorus of roars, sent shockwaves rippling through the cavern, disorienting the remaining orcs. Rob, the stalwart fighter, pounded his hammer against his shield, issuing a defiant challenge also echoing through the frozen chamber further debuffing the frozen orcs.


    Elly, ever vigilant, reapplied the potent Pierce enchantment to every weapon in their arsenal, including the fearsome claws and teeth of the beasts. Pierce , invoked his newfound Boon, a surge of life energy that fortified the party and their companions, to his surprise even the beasts received the buff.


    As the world remained frozen, a symphony of destruction unfolded. Elly and Ignis unleashed a barrage of arrows, fireblasts, and ice shards, their attacks finding purchase in the frozen orcs. The beasts, agile and ferocious, descended the icy stairs, their claws and teeth tearing through the frozen horde with brutal efficiency. The once-threatening orcs were now mere playthings, their frozen bodies shattered by the combined might of the party and their loyal companions.


    "Out of mana, boss," Ignis''s voice signaled over the group chat, a note of desperation in his tone.


    "That''s alright," Pierce replied, a grin spreading across his face. "Just hide behind the portal and rest for a moment. This crazy plan might actually work."


    "Dude, you just jinxed it!" Flint exclaimed, taking his position in front of the portal as a horde of orcs attempted to climb up the icy stairs.


    ¡°Some idiots always gotta ice skate uphill!¡± Ignis says marveling at the thick layer of ice between the hoard and his party.


    "What is this ''jinx'' you speak of, and how might I acquire it?" Grok inquired, her voice echoing through the cavern. She and Bromli had soared to the top of the cavern, their first dive-bomb run already underway. They rained down a hail of orc corpses, dropped from their inventory using the fallen orcs as ammunition against their own army.


    "Keep track of your kills, the highest score after this battle earns the coveted title of ''Jinx'' within our party," Evolon announced to the group, a mischievous glint in her eye.


    "You and your counting kills crap, what am I going to do, heal them to death?" Pierce grumbled, his hands a blur as he topped off the party''s health and tended to the wounded beasts.


    Suddenly, a colossal orc, clad in intimidating blue metallic armor, leaped onto the portal stage, its roar echoing through the cavern. The creature, towering over Flint, drew two menacing swords and prepared to strike. Arrows, fireballs, and ice bolts bounced harmlessly off its impervious armor.


    Flint, undeterred, blocked the first blow with his shield and deflected the second with his hammer. However, the orc''s relentless assault proved too much. A vicious slash tore through Flitns leg armor, followed by another into his collar bone. Just as the mortal wound threatened to claim him, the wounds began to seal, and the orc froze in place, its menacing pose frozen in time as Ignis cast Time Freeze again.


    "Is that all you got?" Flint scoffed, cracking his neck. He retrieved his fallen hammer and swung it upward, striking the orc''s vulnerable point in between his legs. A deafening clang echoed through the cavern, but the metallic armor remained unscathed.


    "Oh hell no, we''re not going to invade the cavern, face insurmountable odds, run out of mana as they climb the stairs to kill us, and then confront an unkillable boss. That''s not how this story ends!" Evolon declared, firing two arrows directly into the frozen orc boss''s eyes. With a resounding DING, the boss was vanquished.


    "That armor just tanked a shot to the balls, come to poppa!" Flint exclaimed, absorbing the boss''s body, claiming its armor and weapons, and adding the corpse to the growing pile of ammunition for Grok''s aerial assaults.


    "When the portal dissipates, we''ll make a hasty retreat back the way we came, slowing their pursuit with Ignis''s ice magic," Pierce strategized over the mental link.


    "What about the captured humans?" Evolon asked, a note of concern in his voice.


    "It''s standard procedure for them to be shipped off through portals to other worlds for interrogation, sorting, and selling," Grok explained, dropping the boss''s corpse onto a horde of orcs below.


    "So, an intergalactic magical stockyard for sentient beings?" Ignis asked, incredulous.


    "A very eloquent way of putting it," Grok replied. "They also sell exotic animals for zoos, private collections, and, for the more discerning palate, to private chefs of the wealthy."


    "Like the Collector from Marvel? That guy was the worst!" Pierce exclaimed, healing the Dogs and Tigers.


    "Or like the worst Star Trek episodes, where plot armor protects the museums until it doesn''t. Poor Moopsy!" Evolon lamented.


    "You are not to hug the cute space monsters! Once again, I cannot revive your corpse!" Pierce shouted, his voice filled with exasperation.


    "But what if they''re cute and cuddly?" Evolon protested.


    "Have you ever seen a shaved panda bear?" Flint asked, a wry smile on his face.


    "I''m sure they''re cute and cuddly too!" Evolon insisted, huffing in frustration.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "There''s stuff out there that could rip your arms off," Flint countered, a serious tone in his voice.


    "Grok, what is this armor made of? I can''t even scratch it with my hammer," Flint asked, examining the mysterious metal.


    "Grok is no metal expert, but I believe it''s Chronite. A very rare magical metal, immune to kinetic force unless superheated to glowing. It''s highly sought after by heavy guards, or ''tanks'' as you call them," Grok explained.


    "Very nice!" Flint exclaimed, equipping the armor directly from his inventory.


    "That orc was over a foot taller than you. How does that armor fit?" Ignis asked, astonished.


    "Size enchantment," Flint replied, his voice filled with wonder. "I can read its properties now that it''s equipped. That guy would have wiped the floor with us without the Timestop and the shot to the eyes. Holy crap, it gives a whopping 25 armor, doubling my Defense to 44!" Flint marveled at his newfound power.  ¡°I could tank shots from a sniper with this on!¡±


    "Everyone, time to test the armor with kicks to the sack, line starts behind me!" Ignis declared, his attention briefly diverted from the fiery chaos he had unleashed upon the orcs. A tiger, unfazed by the flames, pounced on a hapless orc, tearing it limb from limb.


    "Now that I think about it, has anyone checked the properties of their robe? My Azure Arcanum increases spell effect duration by 20%. That''s why my Timestop is lasting longer than expected," Ignis mused, examining the fabric of his new robe.


    "Yes, yes, the wizard has a new magic robe. What really impresses me is that Grok''s robe is making her beasts'' roars last 20% longer," Evolon observed.


    "Magic mechanics are weird," Pierce commented. "Can you imagine having to put a robe on each of the Dogs? Fluffy, there, biting off an orc''s arm while dressed as a Christmas schnauzer."


    "Wait, let me try something," Ignis said, pulling a bloody robe from his inventory and layering it over his existing robe. "So, the robe takes up both the chest and cloak slots. Now I have a 40% longer duration on my Timestop, Ice, and Fire spells."


    "How about the hood as a hat? I''m not surprised the wizard is breaking the game by exploiting mechanics," Pierce quipped.


    "Nope, I tried that. It seems the robes occupy both the chest and shoulder slots, but they probably weren''t meant to be worn together like this. It''s a bit warm, but I can just Ice Blast myself to cool off," Ignis explained.


    Just as the wizard was about to unleash a blast of freezing air upon himself, the portal began to flicker and disappear.


    "That''s our cue, ladies and gentlemen," Pierce announced over the mental link.


    Ignis allowed the ice on the stairs to melt as the controlled beasts sprinted towards the party. The group quickly exited through the original entrance, following Grok through the winding corridors. Ignis brought up the rear, casting ice spells at each intersection to slow any pursuing orcs.


    Emerging from the cave, they found themselves in an open field bathed in an eerie purple moonlight. Strange stars twinkled overhead, casting an otherworldly glow on the landscape.


    "We really are on a different planet," Pierce remarked, pausing to marvel at the celestial spectacle.


    "Stupid human, run first, look at ancestors later!" Grok scolded, soaring ahead to scout for a suitable hiding place.


    Snapping out of his reverie, Pierce sprinted after his companions, disappearing into the vast expanse of the alien countryside. After several kilometers of frantic running, the group regrouped, panting and exhausted, but safe.


    "Do you know where we are?" Pierce asked Grok.


    "Not every orc knows every part of Jusburnaxium after flying a few minutes in the sky," Grok replied.


    "You didn''t answer the question," Pierce persisted, tossing her a bag of beef jerky and a Mountain Dew.


    "Yes, Grok knows where we are. Large Adventurer City Dunblag is a half-day march this way. Quicker if tiny humans move faster," Grok informed them, tapping on Flint''s new helmet from her perch atop her Drake.


    "Great! Everyone take off the robes and put them in their inventory. Ignis, turn yours inside out because I realize you''ll never take it off, even to bathe," Pierce instructed the group. "From now on, we''re an adventuring team, and Grok will be our spokesperson. Our priority is stealth. Our goals are to acquire items that allow us to communicate, disguise ourselves, gather information on the captive humans, and find portals both on and off this planet."


    "Don''t forget finding and killing the asshole that invaded our planet!" Evolon growled, her voice filled with righteous anger.


    "Also, we need new gear. What we have is fine for plowing through level one orcs, but that big bastard would have been a problem," Flint said, taking a swig of his Peach Monster Energy drink.


    "That reminds me, how many levels did you guys get for that big boy?" Pierce asked.


    "Just one, why?" Ignis replied.


    "Oh, I got two," Pierce said with a grin.


    "Your 513 Cadium increase incoming experience, is usually doubled with one Cadium, but each beyond one does not seem to double it again. The math is beyond me," Grok explained.


    "Oh, that reminds me, I had this pop-up that I ignored for a bit..." Pierce said, reading the prompt aloud. "Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 1 Cadium acquired?"


    "I say Grok here deserves it. One more won''t help any of us anymore than ten, but one will double her amount," Flint suggested to the group, receiving affirmative nods.


    "Grok cannot accept this gift. Entire clans would murder Grok for the one I have. Holding two Cadium would put a target on me I can never escape," Grok protested, her voice filled with reverence.


    "It''s not a gift. You earned it. You''re a valued member of The Donner Party now, and it''s about time you start catching up to us!" Evolon insisted, locking eyes with the large orc.


    "I dub thee Grok the Pelvis Crusher, Member of The Donner Party!" Pierce declared, confirming the prompt and awarding the Cadium to Grok.


    "Grok, did you add points to Intelligence? You seem to be forming full sentences more often now," Pierce observed.


    "Grok is increasing mental and physical stats, as my beasts use my stat sheet as a base for their own power. More Wisdom means more roars, more Strength means more beast damage. I am also adjusting to your language as I am exposed to it," Grok explained, a toothy grin spreading across her face.


    "Okay, break''s over. Let''s make like the Fellowship and run away from some orcs!" Flint declared, crushing an empty can against his helmet and tossing it into his inventory.


    Over the next few hours, the group encountered a series of bizarre sights. Bottomless lakes, home to colossal krakens that lurked beneath the surface, ready to drag unsuspecting creatures to a watery grave. Copper-colored trees, as strong as bronze, yet as ordinary as any other.  Large, winged serpents that molt like butterflies, transforming into flightless, reptilian chickens with paralyzing beaks. These beaks, it turned out, were highly prized by adventurers, as their dust could be applied to weapons to inflict a paralyzing effect for one day.


    As the sun began to rise, casting a warm, red-orange glow over the landscape, the Donner Party crested a large hill, revealing the sprawling city below.


    "Welcome to Dunblag on the planet of Jusburnaxium, my human friends," Grok announced, landing beside her companions and gesturing towards the city.


    "Looks like a nice hive of scum and villainy," Flint muttered, hefting his hammer and descending the hill towards the city.

 The blood of Orc babies

    Chapter 14


    Walking down the hill to the gates of the city, Grok cast a spell, and all the beasts except Bromli dissolved into mist, their essence absorbed into her being. With a mental command, Bromli soared into the sky, scouting the city for any potential threats.


    Flint grumbled, "This isn''t how the apocalypse was supposed to go. There was supposed to be mass chaos, human versus human fighting, every man for themselves, living in the woods, mass starvation... Now here we are, about to enter a giant alien city with skyscrapers."


    Pierce chuckled, "I, for one, am glad to have a city with inns. Sleeping on the ground or in some hastily woven hammock is just not a long-term goal of mine." His eyes widened in awe at the massive city before them.


    Evolon scratched her head, "I don''t mind camping out and keeping watch. Plus, it''s cheaper, so I can use all the gold for upgrades. Wait, what do they use here for currency?" she asked, turning to Grok.


    Grok chuckled dryly, "The blood of our enemies... Just kidding. Yes, we use gold coins. They''re the standard currency in every economy I know of. What did you use on Earth?"


    "The blood of Orc babies," Flint said dryly. "Maybe it''s the armor talking, but I love the feeling of the cold ground under me when sleeping. Give me a cave over an inn any day."


    "I don''t mind camping," Grok rumbled, her deep voice echoing through the narrow streets. "It''s a good way to connect with nature and test one''s survival skills."


    "You prefer roughing it out with bugs, bears, and bugbears?" Ignis asked, incredulous.


    "Yes!" Flint, Grok, and Evolon spoke in unison.


    ¡°Sorry, just bad memories from my stepfather loading us up into a camper, getting us lost in the woods, and being rescued by a park ranger more than once¡­¡± Pierce added to the conversation.


    Grok led the group to a tall Orc guard at the gate, exchanging a few words before motioning them to follow. They walked through the towering structures, adorned with intricate carvings and arcane symbols, casting long shadows over a bustling market. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices, the clamor of haggling merchants, and the rhythmic clang of metalworking.


    "Is it always this loud?" Ignis complained, his voice muffled by his hood. "I miss the peace and quiet of the woods."


    "Put some cotton in your ears," Pierce retorted, rolling his eyes. "This is a city, Ignis. It''s supposed to be loud."


    "Think of it, a warm bed and a hot meal!" Evolon replied.


    As they wandered through the city, they couldn''t help but be amazed by the sheer scale of Orcish ingenuity. The architecture was breathtaking, the magic awe-inspiring. But with every step, they felt a growing sense of unease. The city, despite its grandeur, was also a place of danger. They knew that they had to be careful, to trust no one, and to always be on the lookout for trouble.


    "So, where are we going to stay?" Flint asked, his voice filled with anticipation. "I''m hoping for a nice, cozy inn with a roaring fireplace and a cold beer."


    "We need currency first. I have a few ideas. Everyone, transfer your armor and weapons to me for now," Pierce said to the group, his fingers touching each member as they silently transferred items to his inventory.


    "Quiet and follow," Grok commanded over the mental link. "I will lead us to a shop."


    The group moved in a single file line behind Grok, keeping to the shadows as they navigated the towering city. As they passed a large building with metal fences and long queues, a question arose.


    "I think I know, but what is this building for?" Evolon asked over the mental link.


    "This one is for plant-based beasts," Grok explained. "They are tested, sorted, tagged, grouped, and auctioned in small groups, with one or two prized specimens and a dozen or so less desirable beings. This city is what you would call a stockyard. This planet is home to several sought-after animals that are captured and sold because they provide unique services, alchemical properties, or are considered delicacies when prepared correctly." Grok paused. "I know many of those long-armed plants are ingredients in many of my potions."


    "Wait, magical beasts can make magical meals that yield stat buffs? I need to find a library or chef to learn from TODAY!" Ignis exclaimed over the mental link.


    "I would also like to learn some magical metalsmithing," Flint added.


    "I want to apply magic to my bowyer and fletching skills. Ooh, I cannot wait!" Evolon chimed in.


    "I guess I''m going to need a job. Is ''Healer'' a job here?" Pierce asked mentally.


    "Yes, Healers make very good money," Grok replied. "No warrior will choose a Healer class unless they have no other options. Warriors wish to hit hard and live through getting hit hard, healing is seen as a form of weakness. Healers are viewed as brain-damaged maidens only good for being rescued."


    "If I die, I die..." Flint said over the mental link with a chuckle.


    "How about Therapist? Grok, how does your culture handle mental health, dealing with death and loss, the trauma of battle, you know... things like that?" Pierce asked over the link.


    "Hit your head on a large rock until you no longer have those thoughts, or alcohol," Grok replied over the link.


    "My dad did that, he turned out okay," Flint said over the link.


    "Didn''t your dad die of liver cancer?" Evolon asked.


    "Nope! Lung cancer! He also smoked everything he could get his hands on!" Flint replied.


    "I guess with healing, that''s not a problem anymore. Grok, I want to try something..." Pierce said, just before casting a spell. He healed a small orc child darting through the street, deftly avoiding being trampled. The healing spell fully healed the orc, who stumbled and tripped over their own feet, causing a commotion nearby. The overhealing effect spread from being to being throughout the street and city. Pierce could see the numbers over the heads of hundreds of beings filling up and disappearing as many stopped and looked around for the source of the potent healing.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?" Grok shouted over the link. "FOLLOW FASTER, QUIET, RUN, BEFORE..."


    Shouts erupted from behind them, followed by a resonating low whistle of a horn a few blocks away.


    "HEALERS NEVER HEAL FOR FREE! We''re about to be stampeded with sick, injured, and poor from all across the city," Grok warned, pushing open a long-forgotten wooden door. "This way," she said, leading the group through the doorway.


    The group dashed through empty rooms, down flights of stairs, across a wooden bridge spanning a foul-smelling liquid, through a warehouse, and finally into a room where they paused to catch their breath.


    Behind a counter, a man with cat-like features, black fur, and a missing left arm, replaced by a glowing, pulsating organism, greeted them with a slimy, used-car salesman pitch. "Welcome to Gustavo''s, where the deals flow like a river, and the savings are as tall as a mountain!"


    "Gustavo, I have been told you are a merchant that can deal with bulk sales of weapons and armor with absolute discretion to the seller," Grok said, her voice commanding and leaving no room for argument.


    "Wait, how did we understand catboy?" Ignis asked over the mental link.


    "Do you think he will let me pet him?" Evolon asked mentally.


    "DO NOT TRY TO PET THE CAJINE!" Grok shouted over the mental link.


    "Yes, yes, my friend, you are most fortunate! Gustavo is the only merchant that can handle such a request, and as always with the utmost secrecy," Gustavo replied, smiling and rubbing his plump belly with his one good hand.


    A low whistle echoed through the halls, reaching the merchant''s shop. "Follow me, friends. We must visit my other shop, quickly come this way," the cat man said, pulling up a hidden door behind his counter and motioning for the group to follow him down the stairs.


    After looking at each other with a collective shrug, the group followed the merchant farther underground, closing the trap door behind them.


    "What exactly would you like to trade with Gustavo, and what form of payment would you like to receive?" the merchant asked, a smile playing on his lips as he lit the path before them with a wave of his good arm.


    "Almost a thousand of these, we would prefer gold," Pierce said, placing a set of armor and a standard sword on the ground next to the merchant.


    "Oh, an inventory skill, very nice. Are you a merchant?" Gustavo asked, turning the leather breastplate over in his hands, examining every inch of the armor.


    "The Human is a healer, the inventory skill is for bandages, but as you know, spells and skills can have creative uses," Grok explained with a toothy smile.


    "Ahh yes, creative uses, I love those!" Gustavo said, slapping Grok on her thick, muscular shoulder.


    "These are not bad, but I''m sure we can come to an amicable arrangement," Gustavo said, handing the armor back to Pierce and continuing down the underground corridor.


    "As my friend said, I''m a healer, but I must ask... What''s with the arm? Can''t you get it healed?" Pierce asked the cat man.


    "Healers, always trying to heal people. Maybe this is how I was born? Maybe it''s a price one must pay, maybe it''s a curse, who knows," Gustavo said, glancing at Grok and giving her a look as if to say, "Sorry for your mentally deficient friend."


    "May I?" Pierce asked, extending a hand towards the cat man. "I''d like to give it a shot. For free."


    The cat man, Gustavo, chuckled. "Free? Gustavo doesn''t do free. Free is always too expensive, with strings and demands attached." He continued to navigate the labyrinthine underground corridors, rubbing his stump as he walked through a low doorway.


    "Pierce does do free. No strings attached," Pierce insisted, his voice unwavering.


    "Alright, but don''t get your hopes up. I''ve seen it all," Gustavo replied, holding out his missing arm. "I once had an audience with a level 55 Grand Healer of the Sacred Order. Even they could only manage to grow it an inch before the curse consumed it further."


    As they delved deeper into the underground complex, the air grew colder and the silence more profound. The only sound was the soft echo of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water. Finally, they reached a dimly lit chamber, its walls adorned with strange symbols and arcane markings.


    "This is where we''ll conduct the healing," Gustavo said, his voice filled with a mix of hope and skepticism. "But remember, I''ve lost all hope long ago."


    Pierce nodded, his expression serious. He focused his mind, channeling his healing energy into his outstretched hand. A gentle warmth emanated from his palm, soothing the air around them. As he touched the stump, a surge of energy flowed through him, coursing through the missing limb.


    Pierce reached out, casting Cure Ailment followed by Heal. He rotated between the two spells, watching the yellow, glowing substance fade as Gustavo''s arm regenerated, inch by inch. A hand formed, then fingers, and finally, a fully restored limb. Pierce continued the healing process, ensuring the curse was completely eradicated and Gustavo''s health remained stable at 100%.


    Gustavo stood there, speechless, his eyes wide with astonishment. "You..." he began, his voice trembling. "You''ve done it!"


    "I told you," Pierce replied, a knowing smile on his face.


    "You are fortunate to receive a coveted 1% discount from Gustavo!" the cat man exclaimed, attempting to regain his composure.


    "I''ve never heard of Gustavo giving out any discount," Grok interjected, her voice laced with suspicion.


    "Gustavo doesn''t deal in free. This..." Gustavo waved his restored arm, "will be repaid with a discount! I won''t take no for an answer!"


    "A mere 1% discount for a miracle that a level 55 Grand Healer of the Sacred Order could not replicate?" Grok questioned, sensing an opportunity to negotiate.


    "Fine, I will also bestow this..." Gustavo said, touching Pierce''s arm and casting a spell. "Part of my Merchant Class allows me to bestow a basic job. You look like an Enchanter."


    "I would like Chef or Cook," Ignis requested. "Metalsmith," Flint declared. "Bowyer and Fletcher," Evolon added.


    "Fine, fine, but only because Gustavo is in a good mood. Tell no one of this, and I will grant jobs to all of you. The Orc here already has a job, so she''s out of luck!" Gustavo announced, casting his spell on each party member.


    Pierce read the skill to the group over the mental link. "Enchant an item to effect a random stat based on your Cadium. Enchant a weapon to add an additional random damage type based on your Cadium."


    Evolon shared her skills over the mental chat: "Bowyer: Create magical bows from stick and string, additional damage is based on Cadium. Fletcher: Create magical arrows of random damage types based on Cadium."


    Flint, following the established order, announced his skills: "Metalsmith: Hammer metal to create armor based on Cadium. Weaponsmith: Create weapons of random damage types based on Cadium."


    Ignis, noticing the party shares information in the same order they sat at the D&D table, concluded the skill reveals: "Cook: Butcher magical animals. Cook magical meals that bestow stats and effects based on the ingredients and your Cadium."


    "HOLY BALLS!!! Does this mean I can make weapons with my Cadium, then Pierce enchant it to add his, and Evolon make a bow with hers, arrows with hers, then Pierce also enchant them with his on both?!? All of a sudden being a wizard looks pretty crappy right Ignoramus?!" Flint exclaimed over the mental chat.


    "Yes, the Cadium of crafting and enchanting stack and sets those with a craft far apart from those without," Grok confirmed over the mental chat.


    "Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I bet you can make a staff, then Pierce enchants it, and it affects my fire blasts, cold, and time stop. Magic beats your sticks and stones any day!" Ignis retorted.


    "Before we trade, can you find us a place to train up these craft skills, and a few hours of privacy?" Grok asked Gustavo out loud, as they entered a large underground chamber filled with glowing green mushrooms and spores.


    "Yes, I have a place like this. Please don''t touch the crops, they''re not quite ripe yet," Gustavo replied, changing direction and leading the group through a path of waist-high mushrooms. "This way, hurry up, hurry up."

 Who runs the banks? Dragons?

    Chapter 15


    Ignis, his brow furrowed in contemplation, delicately plucks a small, iridescent mushroom from a cluster of glowing green fungi. The ethereal light cast an otherworldly glow on his face as he examined the specimen with rapt attention.


    "For the love of all that is holy, DON''T EAT THAT!" Grok exclaimed, her voice booming like thunder. "That infernal fungus will make your legs explode! Or worse, it could leave you crippled." With a swift, practiced motion, she slapped the mushroom out of Ignis'' grasp, the delicate stem snapping with a sickening crunch. "What is it with you humans and your insatiable desire to consume every bizarre object you encounter?"


    Flint, erupted in a boisterous laugh, "You know, I blame Evolon for that. It all started with her enlightening us about... well, let''s just say she has a way with words."


    Evolon, her face flushed with indignation, retorted, "How was I to know that the Orcs had such¡­ unconventional methods of family planning?"


    Pierce, interjected, "Well, calling not being a raging, bloodthirsty killing machine ''defective'' is certainly¡­ subjective. But we mustn''t judge their culture. They are, after all, like a primitive, magical version of the Klingons, and Grok here¡­ well, she''s our very own Warf!"


    The group, their conversation punctuated by the rhythmic thudding of boots on the forest floor, resumed their hurried trek through the stone hallways.


    "What is Warf? Is it strong?" Grok inquired, her brow furrowed in curiosity.


    "Warf," Ignis replied, taking a deep breath as they navigated the labyrinthine underground corridors, "once single-handedly dispatched a dozen enemies to protect his captain. A true warrior."


    Grok, enthralled by this tale, pounded her chest with a resounding thud, declaring, "I like this Warf! I yearn to face him on the field of battle, to test my strength against his!"


    Suddenly, Gustavo announced, "We are here, Donner Party. Master Pierce, I believe this location would serve admirably as your enchanting workshop. Observe these weapon racks ¨C a veritable arsenal awaits your touch. And fear not, I shall assist you, for I possess a certain¡­ affinity for the arcane arts." With a flourish, he gestured towards a previously concealed chamber, revealing a well-appointed space complete with bunks, a generous supply of rations and water, and a staggering array of weapon racks and armor stands.


    Turning to Pierce, Gustavo inquired, "If I may venture a guess, you are a newcomer to the Cadium system?" He gestured towards the empty weapon racks, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.


    "You may assume that, and why did you call me Master?" Pierce inquired, approaching the armor stands with a discerning eye. They resembled department store mannequins, stark and eerily lifelike.


    "While I do not claim a life debt," Gustavo declared, his voice firm, "you have performed magic upon me that has irrevocably altered the balance of our relationship. Orcish culture, in which I was raised, simply does not condone such an imbalance. I must strive to restore equilibrium as swiftly as possible. Gustavo cannot be indebted to another." His chest puffed out with a sense of pride.


    Pierce raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. "Just a moment ago you were attempting to haggle us with outrageously low prices, and now you offer your unwavering assistance? It all seems a bit¡­ fishy."


    A wry smile played across Gustavo''s feline features. "All is fair in commerce," he conceded, "but healing the seemingly unhealable, as you did for me, without any expectation of recompense? Such a generous act simply cannot go unacknowledged. I must assist you, lest your¡­ shall we say, ''unique'' perspective lead you to make disastrous choices, choices that could leave you imprisoned within a box for eternity, endlessly healing at the whim of your captors."


    "So, power and kindness make me crazy. I''m about to get all Klinger on these guys," Pierce laughed.


    Evolon tilted her head, a puzzled expression on her face. "Didn''t he date a Kardashian?"


    Ignis, corrected her, "No, he was a renowned basketball player, a forward for the legendary 1991 Chicago Bulls!"


    Flint, offered a different perspective. "He was actually Gene Roddenberry''s neighbor, and the writer used him as the inspiration for the Klingons."


    Pierce chuckled. "No, no, no. I''m talking about Klinger, from MASH, you know, the crazy healer? I assume none of your grandfathers forced you to endure endless marathons of MASH reruns every Memorial Day, instilling in you a profound respect for his wartime service¡­ He would tap on the metal plate in his head whenever they announced incoming artillery fire."


    Grok, her eyes widening with interest, exclaimed, "So, mental instability does not appear to be a hereditary trait in your family, I see. I would be honored to meet this grandfather of yours, to challenge him to a test of strength!"


    "YOU ARE NOT HAVING SEX WITH MY GRANDFATHER!!! You might actually grind his pelvis into dust at this point!" Pierce shouted at the Orc, his voice echoing through the chamber.


    He then lowered his voice, addressing Gustavo, "Okay, how exactly does this work? I have a vague idea, but I''d rather not inadvertently cause a catastrophic explosion in this room."


    Gustavo raised an eyebrow. "You have an inventory skill, correct? Have you ever attempted to equip another person from your inventory, or perhaps¡­ disrobe them? "


    Pierce stared at him, bewildered. "You can do that? "


    "Certainly, but only if they themselves do not possess Cadium. This is precisely why those blessed with the holy stone stand head and shoulders above the common folk. Even the most powerful non-Cadium user can be rendered utterly defenseless, stripped bare by a single individual possessing the sacred stone."


    Gustavo demonstrated, summoning a vibrant ball gown and a fearsome halberd from his own inventory. The gown materialized upon the armor dummy, while the halberd materialized perfectly balanced within the weapon rack. With a flourish, he then returned both items to his inventory. "Try summoning the armor by touching the dummy, visualizing it appearing upon the dummy instead of yourself. The same principle applies to the weapon racks. Touch the rack and summon the weapon, but instead of appearing in your hand, imagine it resting securely within the rack."


    After several frustrating attempts, during which the leather breastplate repeatedly landed beside the dummy or appeared inexplicably upside down, Pierce finally grasped the intricacies of the process. He began summoning some of the more heavily damaged armor and weapons..


    "I will practice on the most damaged items first, then gradually work my way towards the best," Pierce proposed, seeking Gustavo''s approval.


    "Acceptable," Gustavo confirmed. "Now, you currently possess only the most basic enchanting skills. The initial enchantments are largely random, but as your skill level increases, you will gain greater control, allowing you to create more powerful and intricate enchantments. Most ordinary, non-magical items can only withstand a single enchantment before succumbing to the sheer force of the magic. However, well-crafted magical weapons and armor possess the capacity to hold multiple enchantments, and when applied strategically, these enchantments can transform even the most insignificant warrior into an unstoppable force."


    Pierce reached out and touched the first leather breastplate, which still bore the scars of battle: two arrow holes in its back and a deep slash marring its surface. He channeled his mana, the familiar yellow light emanating from his chest, coursing down his arm, and finally converging upon the armor.


    Upon completion of the enchantment, Pierce meticulously inspected the armor, reciting its enhanced stats aloud, "Crude Leather Breastplate: Armor 51 , +30 Strength, Condition: Bad."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Gustavo''s fur fluffed up dramatically, making him appear much larger than his actual size. His tail formed a strange, question-mark shape in the air, and his eyes widened in a look of sheer terror before rolling back into his head. He then proceeded to faint dramatically onto the ground.


    "I guess the slimy car salesman doesn''t like it when you LS swap a Miata," Flint chuckled, his attention focused on the small forge and bellows he was currently operating.


    Ignis, perplexed, inquired, "What does that mean?"


    Evolon, expertly wielding a hunting knife to whittle a sapling into a crude bow, explained, "LS refers to the legendary Chevy Corvette engine, which can be easily modified to fit into a wide variety of vehicles. You essentially transplant this incredibly powerful engine into a lightweight car like a Miata, transforming it into a veritable Mario Kart."


    Pierce, observing his friends diligently begin to level up their new professions, couldn''t help but wonder aloud, "Why are we even doing all this? We need to remember that this isn''t some fantasy role-playing game like Dungeons & Dragons. This is real life. Why not simply return home and kick up your feet and watch TV until this all blows over?"


    "You know, each and every one of us has been waiting for this day all our lives," Flint declared, a sense of exhilaration in his voice. "All those years of tabletop role-playing, all that meticulous teamwork, it''s finally paying off. Evolon, with her uncanny accuracy, pinpoints the target. Ignis sets one ablaze, freezes another. I stand tall, wielding my hammer and shield, and you, Pierce, your healing magic is a beacon of light in the midst of chaos. We''ve rehearsed this countless times, honed our skills, perfected our roles. This time, however, we''re not simply role-playing; we''re living it. This magical stone, Cadium, grants us the strength, the endurance, the pain tolerance to excel in this new reality. I can only imagine the struggles faced by those without Cadium. As a wise man once said, ''With great power¡­''"


    Flint''s proclamation was abruptly interrupted by a chorus of groans from his companions.


    Grok finished the quote with a triumphant grin, "With great power, you can more easily crush your enemies!"


    "I know we all indulge in our fantasies," Pierce began, his voice serious, "but let''s be clear, this isn''t a tabletop game. This is reality. If any of you, at any point, feel overwhelmed, feel the need to step back, I will not judge you. This isn''t some television show where you''re constantly on the run, perpetually chasing some grand, apocalyptic threat. We''ve already achieved a great deal. This is bonus time, a chance to exact some measure of revenge for their invasion.


    "While you''re all reveling in your newfound magical abilities, I want you to pause, to reflect. Ask yourselves, ''Why am I doing this?'' Is the risk truly worth the reward? We''re facing adversaries of unimaginable power, beings who could crush us like mere grapes. And unlike in a game, there are no do-overs, no ''re-rolling your character'' and showing up for the next session. Death is final." Pierce met the gaze of each of his friends, his words heavy with the weight of reality.


    Grok offered a glimmer of hope, "Until you get the Resurrection spell, of course."


    Ignis, his brow furrowed in contemplation, exclaimed, "WTF! I''m starting to think Gygax was an interplanetary traveler, created D&D, making a fortune by selling stories based on his own experiences back home!"


    "Pierce, we''re all in this for our own reasons," Evolon explained, her voice calm and steady. "I''m an adrenaline junkie, seeking the thrill of the fight. Flint, well, he just wants to smash things and prove his manhood, despite his¡­ diminutive stature. Ignis just wants to shout FIREBALL as things explode"


    Flint bristled, "I am not short! My family simply has a gluten allergy!"


    Ignis, ever the stickler for detail, interjected, "It''s FireBLAST, not FIREBALL!"


    Pierce, seemingly unfazed by their bickering, continued his work, enchanting armor sets and weapons one after another. The process, initially a novelty, quickly became routine, almost mindless. He barely registered the expenditure of mana, the enchantments flowing effortlessly from his fingertips.


    Suddenly, a notification echoed in his mind: "DING! Enchanter has reached level 2!"


    He paused, searching for any noticeable changes, but found none. The process remained as effortless as before, the mana consumption slightly reduced, but otherwise, there was no discernible difference.


    He continued his work, a steady rhythm developing as he enchanted over a dozen armor sets and twenty weapons. Then, another notification chimed: "DING! Enchanter has reached level 5! New Enchantment added to pool!"


    "Pierce, read the new enchantment aloud," Gustavo urged.


    Pierce scanned the new enchantment description, then read it aloud, "Enchant an item or weapon to also include a second random stat or damage type based on Cadium."


    "Nice, bro!" Ignis exclaimed. "You have all these amazing materials to work with, and I''m over here making weird dishes out of protein bars, Red Bull, and beef jerky. Anyone want to try my first batch?"


    Grok, however, seemed intrigued. "I will try your Bull Shit," she declared, her tone devoid of any irony.


    "We¡¯ll give it a few more levels¡­," he mumbled, discreetly returning the meatball-looking concoction to his inventory.


    Pierce, oblivious to their exchange, continued his enchanting spree, meticulously placing each enchanted item back into his inventory. He even created separate inventory tabs ¨C "Healer," "Tank," "Ranged DPS," "Caster" ¨C to efficiently arm and disarm his allies as needed.


    Approximately ten minutes later, another notification chimed: "DING! Enchanter has reached level 10! New Enchantment added to pool."


    Pierce eagerly read the new enchantment: "Enchant an item with two stats or damage types based on your Cadium, also add a utility enchantment to the item"


    "So you can have over 300 in a stat, armor, or damage. That seems a little overpowered¡­," Flint remarked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.


    "Not if you remember that most individuals possess only a single Cadium, and even the most powerful among them rarely exceed twenty," Grok explained. "They would be content with armor boasting an armor rating of sixty, while the Donner Party can now craft armor with a rating of 500. We will become gods, forging armor coveted by all. Even the most rudimentary paper armor crafted by our hands would surpass the finest creations of the most esteemed masters. Though, I fear, this newfound power may inadvertently sow the seeds of greater chaos."


    "I have an idea," Pierce interjected, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We use Gustavo here as our exclusive merchant. The Donner Party will act as couriers, delivering these exceptional creations from our masters to the merchant." He paused, then posed the question, "What should we call this esteemed collective of Master Smith, Cook, Fletcher/Bowyer, and Enchanter?"


    "The Collective," Flint suggested, his voice gruff.


    "The Sith," Evolon offered, with a mischievous grin.


    "The Celestial Artisans," Ignis proposed, his voice filled with a sense of grandeur.


    "Ooohhh, I like that one," Pierce declared, "The Celestial Artisans." His friends nodded in agreement, acknowledging the elegance of the name.


    "When the merchant wakes up, we need you four to get tattoos," Grok declared.


    "Umm, I''ll jump out of a perfectly good airplane, but I don''t do needles, and I definitely don''t like permanent marks on my skin," Evolon declared, her focus intently on adding feathers to an arrow.


    "These tattoos are invisible to anyone without Magic Sight," Grok explained. "They will grant you the ability to understand any language you hear and, after hearing a brief sample, speak most known languages fluently. The only reason you can currently communicate with Gustavo is because he possesses a similar tattoo."


    "How big are we talking?" Flint inquired, flexing his bicep. "Full sleeve?"


    "The size of your fingernail," Grok clarified. "And they must be placed near the ear." She then poured a vibrant purple liquid into a small bottle, sealing it with a cork stopper.


    "Do they have magical tattoos for other things?" Ignis asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "Most are battle-related," Grok began, "but there are a few that might pique your interest. One, for example, is designed to increase the size of ones¡­"


    Grok''s explanation was abruptly interrupted by Gustavo, who awoke with a startled shout.


    "MONSTER! I must know how much Cadium you have, Master Pierce?!" Gustavo exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe as he remained sprawled on the floor.


    "Well, we need to discuss that," Pierce began, a thoughtful expression on his face. "We intend to utilize you as our sole merchant. To maintain our anonymity, you must inform your clientele that these exceptional items are crafted by ''The Celestial Artisans,'' while we will act as their couriers."


    "Of course," Gustavo agreed, his greed momentarily overshadowing his fear. "If it were known that you possessed over a hundred Cadium, you would be relentlessly hunted. Powerful individuals, lieutenants of planetary leaders, even beings of far greater influence, would stop at nothing to acquire your Cadium, to distribute it amongst their armies. Such an event would undoubtedly disrupt the delicate balance of the Council, potentially triggering centuries of devastating conflict. However, the potential profits¡­ they are truly staggering."


    "Who knew the Ferengi would actually be cats?" Evolon chuckled.


    "Who runs the banks? Dragons?" Flint inquired.


    "How¡­ how did you know?" Grok and Gustavo simultaneously exclaimed, their voices filled with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension.


    "Gustavo," Pierce interjected, "we require communication tattoos. Could you arrange for us to acquire them, and what would be the cost?"


    "I will spread word about an auction," Gustavo announced, a sly grin spreading across his feline features. "Three armor sets, each with unique stat values, and three weapons, each imbued with a different damage type. You should be swimming in gold within a week. Of course, I will have the tattoo artist arrive shortly. However, I must warn you, refrain from commenting on her appearance. She is quite sensitive about her¡­ unique fashion choices."


    As Gustavo spoke, he produced a small, shimmering rock and began to communicate with it in a language that only Grok seemed to comprehend.

 ALL THE BALLS ARE FIRE NOW!

    Chapter 16


    Pierce continued his enchanting, achieving a significant milestone by unlocking a new skill at level 15. However, he soon encountered a frustrating obstacle: a dwindling supply of enchantable materials.


    "Enchant an item or weapon based on Cadium applied to three random stats or damage types; these stats can be duplicates for double or triple the effect," Pierce recited aloud, primarily to tease his friends. None of them had accumulated enough materials to even reach level five in their respective professions.


    "Alright, this is getting a bit absurd," Flint chuckled. "We''re talking about a potential stat boost of 500 to 1000 points across armor, damage, or other attributes."


    "My inventory is nearly depleted," Pierce explained as he enchanted the last few items. "You guys get the first pick of the best armor and weapons; we''ll sell the rest."


    "Pierce, now that you possess this enchanting ability, how much would you be willing to pay for this?" Gustavo inquired, producing a striking metal staff adorned with an orange, glowing gemstone at its apex.


    ¡°It depends on what it does,¡± Pierce said, carefully inspecting the item. ¡°Staff of Healing: All heal spells use 10% less mana and apply this weapon''s damage as healing to all heal spells.¡±


    ¡°That''s it,¡± Flint exclaimed, slapping his belly with laughter. "Make the broken guy even more broken, but as long as he''s healing me, I''ll give it a pass."


    "What is your commission for selling our items?" Pierce inquired.


    "Three percent is standard for high-end magical items," Gustavo replied, his tone laced with uncertainty.


    "How does four percent for this batch sound, and I get the staff? Also, for any other valuable items my friends could use, we add another one percent to the commission, up to a maximum of ten percent total," Pierce proposed, adopting the air of a seasoned negotiator.


    "SOLD!" Gustavo declared before anyone could perform the calculations and potentially reconsider.


    Pierce enchanted the staff with his final enchantment, resulting in a potent combination of 41 fire, 33 cold, and 50 acid damage, effectively increasing the potency of all his heal spells by a substantial +124. He also selected a Leather Breastplate boasting 31 Dexterity, 30 Wisdom, and 45 Intelligence.


    "What other armor slots are there?" Pierce inquired, his greed for enhanced stats insatiable.


    "Helmet, gloves, Vambraces, leggings, boots, one ring on each hand, one earring in each ear, and a necklace," Gustavo replied, his eyes gleaming with anticipation of future sales.


    "I''m now healing for 255 with every cast... I could push this to absolutely insane levels," Pierce exclaimed, awestruck by the potential.


    "Such is the power of Cadium," Gustavo declared, almost reverently.


    "After Lulu defiles your body," Gustavo said, "we can start looking for more pieces for you."


    "Who is going to what?" Evolon demanded, her voice rising in alarm.


    Gustavo calmly withdrew a small, smooth rock from his pocket and tapped it against his head. "There she is now," he declared, proceeding to unlatch and open the door.


    In walks a tall, pale woman with an hourglass figure and pointy ears. She is wearing what appears to be a bendable metal two-piece swimsuit that leaves little to the imagination. All across her skin are vibrant, glowing tattoos, making her body resemble a living, breathing LCD screen. Magical beasts roamed across these images, as if someone were playing a real-time strategy game with her body as the monitor. The woman began speaking in a language none of the humans in the room could comprehend.


    "While she''s here, do not speak of your Cadium, the stats on your crafted items, or, well, it''s best if you simply remain silent," Grok cautioned through the mental link, ensuring Gustavo and Lulu were excluded from the conversation.


    "Jes, jes, Lulu," Gustavo began, adopting the slick, persuasive tone of a seasoned used car salesman. "I have a small job that will only require a small portion of your valuable time, and the compensation will be most generous."


    Lulu fixed her gaze directly upon the cat-man, squinting her eyes and responding with another string of unintelligible words.


    "She''s negotiating the price first," Grok informed the group chat, translating the conversation over the mental link. "It seems Gustavo has stiffed her in the past."


    "The price is two tickets to this week''s auction where the items will sell for no less than 2,000 gold each!" Gustavo announced, pulling out an enchanted breastplate boasting 11 Strength, 23 Dexterity, and 10 Stamina for her to touch and inspect. "As a token of my gratitude, I will allow you a private viewing of one of the six items up for sale."


    Lulu''s posture and tone shifted dramatically after examining the item. A genuine smile graced her lips, and the animated creatures on her body began to dance with excitement. Lulu produced a maroon flower bulb and cast a spell upon it. She then approached Pierce, grasped his left ear, and traced a small, glowing maroon rune with her right index finger. As promised, the magical tattoo was invisible to anyone lacking the ability to perceive raw magic.


    "That was easy," Pierce exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Actually, that was kind of fun. Could she do it again?"


    Gustavo grunted in response, then directed Lulu to apply the tattoo to the three other humans, none of whom objected.


    As Lulu departed, Gustavo handed her the two auction tickets. "It''s been a pleasure working with you... this time," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.


    After she left, Ignis exclaimed, "DID WE JUST MEET AN ELF?!"


    "She was possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever met," Flint sighed contentedly.


    "I know, right?!" Pierce agreed.


    "I''m as straight as my arrows, but I wouldn''t kick her out of bed," Evolon admitted, earning a collective look of surprise from the others in the room.


    "She would likely produce weak-boned children," Grok conceded, "but I''d still give it a shot."


    "Wait a minute," Flint interjected, a puzzled expression on his face. "How do two women produce a child?"


    "Magic, of course," Gustavo declared with a dismissive wave of his hand.


    "Now that the four of you can communicate and understand others," Gustavo continued, "Pierce, bring out your finest enchanted armor and weapons. Oh, and I have this for the spellboy over there to be enchanted. My commission is now at five percent." He held out a small, thin, metallic rod.


    "Is that a Magic Wand?" Ignis inquired.


    "What else would it be?" Grok boomed with laughter. "Half of a magical pair of chopsticks?"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Pierce summoned the finest weapons and armor onto the mannequins, allowing each of his party members to select their preferred equipment.


    Evolon chose a breastplate boasting 78 Dexterity and 46 Wisdom, but opted to have Pierce enchant her compound bow, likely due to her extensive familiarity with the weapon. "Not bad," she commented. "128 health, 83 mana, 260 damage, plus whatever the arrows contribute, which isn''t a fixed value. It could range from 1 to 4 damage, but at this point, Pierce''s enchantments make everything else seem insignificant in comparison."


    Flint chose to have Pierce enchant his Chronite Armor and Titanium hammer and shield. "197 health, 192 damage with the hammer, and 98 defense with no kinetic force damage," he declared triumphantly. "I''M THE JUGGERNAUT BIIIIITCH!"


    Ignis chose to have his robe and magic wand enchanted. "78 Mana, 7.8 Mana regeneration, 221 Spell Strength," he exclaimed. "ALL THE BALLS ARE FIRE NOW!"


    Grok approached, a sheepish expression on her face as she selected a short sword and a leather breastplate. "Grok not feel like she deserves Donner Party gear," she admitted. "Grok health up to 46, Mana to 37, physical damage to 85." Her expression suddenly shifted, her head turning to the side with a glazed look in her eyes.


    "Endless Demon hordes could not defeat Grok, but a simple math problem breaks her" Flint declared, slapping her on the back. However, given his short stature and Groks considerable height, the gesture was more of an enthusiastic upper-butt pat.


    This abrupt physical contact broke her from her reverie. Grok slapped the short man''s hand away with the force of a whip. "Keep your stubby fingers to yourself, tiny human," she growled, "unless you are ready for Grok the Pelvis Crusher!"


    "NOPE, NOPE NOPE NOPE!" Flint shrieked, scrambling back towards his small smithy area within the cave.


    Ignis produced some meat skewered on a spit, the meat seasoned with a tantalizing blend of spices. The group gathered around to partake in the meal.


    "I''m not sure what this beast was," Ignis remarked between bites, "but you''ll enjoy a ten percent health buff for the next twenty-four hours."


    "It helps that it''s delicious," Flint exclaimed, gulping down the meat with barely a chew. "But that buff is a game-changer!"


    "I''m exhausted," Pierce declared. "Gustavo, are we good to crash in the bunks back there?" He gestured towards the three-tiered bunk beds stacked in the far corner of the cave.


    Here''s the expanded version with corrected grammar and added details:


    "Jes, jes," Gustavo agreed. "We need to lay low for a few days while I spread the word about the auction. Feel free to use this cave as you see fit, but please refrain from leaving, or we''ll have to start answering questions I''d rather avoid for the time being."


    The group completed their crafting tasks, stowed their tools, and then retired for the night, each individual donning their newly enchanted armor and eagerly sharing their enhanced stat sheets.


    Pierce, as always, went first.


    Impiercenator (Pierce), healer, level 12


    Defense base 3, modified 29


    Strength base 9, modified 19


    Dexterity 10, modified 51


    Stamina 10, modified 20


    Constitution 10, modified 30


    Wisdom 10, modified 60


    Intelligence 10, modified 75


    Cadium 513


    Hit Points: 121


    Mana: 578


    Mana Regen: 57


    HP Regen: 12


    Spell Strength: 255


    Physical Damage: 32


    Spells: Basic Heal, Cure Ailment, Boon


    Class Perk: Overhealth, Spell Cascade


    Enchanter level 16


    Enchantments: Enchant item or weapon with up to your base Cadium applied to three random stats or damage types, those stats can be duplicates for double or triple the amount.


    Items: Staff of healing 10% less mana for healing spells +124 to healing spells,


    Leather Breastplate + 31 dex, 30 wisdom, 45 int.


    Evolon, Archer, level 11


    Defense base 2, modified 38


    Strength base 7, modified 7


    Dexterity base 30, modified 108


    Stamina base 7, modified 7


    Constitution base 4, modified 5


    Wisdom base 7, modified 54


    Intelligence base 5, modified 6


    Cadium 27


    Hit Points: 128


    Mana: 83


    Mana Regen: 8


    HP Regen: 12


    Spell Strength: 12


    Physical Damage: 260


    Spells: Pierce, Piercer, Harvest


    Class Perk: Bleed, Critical Shot


    Fletcher level 3


    Create magical bows from a stick and string, additional damage is equal to your Cadium.


    Bowyer level 4


    Create magical arrows of random damage types up to your base Cadium.


    Items: Compound Bow: 90 fire damage, 48 shadow damage.


    Leather Breastplate: 78 Dex, 46 Wisdom.


    Flint Hammerbrew, Fighter, level 11


    Defense base 5, modified 98 (immune to kinetic force)


    Strength base 20, modified 71


    Dexterity base 14, modified 46


    Stamina base 6, modified 41


    Constitution base 12, modified 37


    Wisdom base 5, modified 5


    Intelligence base 4, modified 4


    Cadium 22


    Hit Points: 197


    Mana: 29


    Mana Regen: 2


    HP Regen: 19


    Spell Strength: 9


    Physical Damage: 192


    Spells: Challenge, Shield Bash, Bastion


    Class Perk: Armor Up, Shockwave


    Metalsmith level 2


    Hammer metal to create armor, add up to your Cadium to the base armor value of the item.


    Weaponsmith level 2


    Create weapons of random damage types adding up to your Cadium to the base damage values.


    Items: Titanium Hammer 39 fire, 45 ice, 22 crushing damage.


    Chronite Armor 50 armor, 32 dex, 25 con, immune to kinetic force.


    Captains Shield 32 armor, 51 str, 35 stam


    Ignis, Wizard, level 11


    Defense base 3, modified 13


    Strength base 4, modified 4


    Dexterity base 5, modified 5


    Stamina base 5, modified 5


    Constitution base 8, modified 27


    Wisdom base 16, modified 49


    Intelligence base 18, modified 59


    Cadium 20


    Hit Points: 43


    Mana: 78


    Mana Regen: 7


    HP Regen: 4


    Spell Strength: 212


    Physical damage: 4


    Spells: Fireblast, Iceblast, Timestop


    Class Perks: Resistance, Doublecast


    Chef - Butcher magical animals


    Cook magical meals that bestow stat and effect buffs.


    Items: Azure Arcanum - Increase spell effect duration by 20%, 41 int, 33 wis, 19 con


    Magic Wand, 132 to all spell damage.


    Grok, Beast Master, Level 11


    Defense base 4, modified 17


    Strength base 7, modified 7


    Dexterity base 7, modified 26


    Stamina base 6, modified 6


    Constitution base 7, modified 7


    Wisdom base 9, modified 31


    Intelligence base 9, modified 29


    Cadium 2


    Hit Points: 46


    Mana: 37


    Mana Regen: 3


    HP Regen: 4


    Spell Strength: 34


    Physical Damage: 85


    Spells known: Charm Animal, Roar


    Class perk: Share Roar, Danger Sense


    Alchemist: Create potions with affect based on your Cadium modifier.


    Items: Short Sword 20 fire, 15 ice, 11 acid damage


    leather breastplate: 19 dex, 22 int, 20 wis.

 DO NOT ASK THE LIZARD WHY SHE HAS BREASTS!

    Chapter 17


    The next morning, the group was startled awake by a familiar yet jarring alarm sound. Pierce leaped out of bed, instantly alert, only to realize the source of the cacophony. Ignis, chuckling, pulled his phone from his pocket and silenced the blaring "RED ALERT" morning alarm.


    "Time to go to the market," Ignis declared.


    "WHAT IN THE BLAZES, JERKFACE!" Flint exclaimed, rubbing his eyes and hitting Ignis playfully on the shoulder. "I was dreaming about a particularly alluring elf, and you interrupted the most tantalizing part!"


    "Ah, you know what they say," Ignis said with a mischievous grin, "the early bird gets the worm. 3:35 AM is when I procure the finest meats, fruits, and vegetables for the restaurant. Seems I neglected to stow my phone in my inventory." He offered a sheepish apology to the group.


    "Everyone, right now, I want you to retrieve your phones and silence all alarms and notifications," Pierce commanded, already pulling out his own device. "I''m not interested in instigating a brawl because someone''s virtual axolotl egg hatched in some ridiculous Roblox game." With a determined air, Pierce proceeded to meticulously silence all alarms, notifications, and sounds within his phone''s settings.


    "Weird, my phone is still at 90% and I haven''t seen a charger in almost two days," Evolon remarked, mirroring Pierce''s actions.


    "It seems your Cadium Inventory functions much like a bag of holding," Pierce observed, checking his own phone''s battery percentage. "Anything placed within appears to exist in a state of stasis or temporal freeze, even affecting the degradation of phone batteries."


    "Grok, does food expire or lose its temperature within the inventory void?" Ignis inquired, turning to the Orc.


    "Grok has Stew in inventory from years ago, still hot, still good," Grok responded, pulling a small pot of steaming stew from her inventory before seamlessly returning it to the void.


    "Alright, let''s plan our day, everyone," Pierce declared, launching into his morning routine as if he were leading a team of administrators through a network outage. "We''re not on Earth, so there''s no restaurant to run, no work to attend to, no dreaded ''Monday blues,'' no afternoon naps in the car, and certainly no post-work ride at the Castle. What are our priorities? What do we need? What do we desire? And how can we achieve these goals as efficiently and effortlessly as possible?"


    "First, coffee. Then food. Then meeting," Evolon declared with a determined glare.


    "Ignis, you''re the cook, and you''re an early riser," Pierce pointed out. "If we need to establish watch shifts, I vote you get the last one before dawn. That way, you can prepare a meal just like in D&D." As Pierce spoke, Ignis efficiently produced a camp stove, coffee, and the necessary accessories, setting them up on a table just outside the bunkroom.


    "Our initial priorities were stealth, secure communication, the ability to disguise our appearances, gathering information on the captive humans, locating portals off this rock, and, of course, finding a way back home," Pierce stated, reviewing his handwritten checklist. "We can check off a few of those and establish new priorities and goals for today."


    "We''re running low on jerky," Flint complained, his gaze fixated on the sizzling eggs and bacon at Ignis'' workstation. "Not a top priority, but if we could acquire some travel rations that don''t make me want to vomit, that would be greatly appreciated."


    "Provisions are on Ignis," Pierce acknowledged, adding "provisions" to his list. "Now, what else, everyone? There are no stupid answers."


    "Find and save as many captured humans as we can. Find a way home, and get them there," Evolon declared, the weight of countless faces they were unable to save during their time hunting on Earth heavy in her voice.


    "Find and kill the asshole that dared fuck with Earth," Flint growled from his forge, the rhythmic pounding of the bellows echoing his words. "We need to ''Enders Game'' his ass so hard no one will even think of going there again."


    "While I''m not a proponent of genocide," Pierce conceded, "I''m certain we can find a way to deliver a suitably¡­ impactful response." He added "retribution" to the list with a grim nod.


    "Money," Grok interjected.


    "We need money for information, goods, and services," Pierce acknowledged. "I have an idea about that, though. Grok, do you know any information brokers in the city who might be willing to work with us, and against the¡­ entities that invaded Earth? I understand your clan was involved, but I''m hoping to find someone who wasn''t directly complicit."


    "Grok left Clan Zotto when Bromli was the only Drake left in the stables, but Zotto has been on the decline for many generations. We were once great rulers in Dunblag, but are now relegated to low-level invasions on magicless worlds. In the decline, many have left, and many spies for competing clans have tried to poach Grok. Yes, Grok can find information for The Donner Party," Grok said, a sadness clouding her features.


    "I understand how difficult it is to go against your family," Evolon said, placing a comforting hand on Grok''s shoulder. "I was disowned by mine because I refused to follow the family business. I enjoy the outdoors and have so many ideas on how to improve the things we use to explore and enjoy it. I simply couldn''t sit in courtrooms all day, or endure those interminable meetings about how to keep a billionaire from paying taxes."


    "Dude! Having an Asian mom sucks and all, but Grok here was literally sold off to invade a planet over some glowing rocks," Ignis exclaimed, handing Evolon her coffee.


    "Guys, suffering is not a competition. Our families all equally suck," Pierce interjected, steering the conversation back on track. "Money, Information, Humans, Portal, BBEG. Can we all agree on these items and their priority?"


    The entire team confirmed the list as the grinding of stone on stone echoed from the hidden door.


    "GOOD MORNING, my friends! I trust you slept well, and what is this¡­ this divine aroma?" Gustavo exclaimed, sniffing the air near the coffee press.


    "Oh, I forgot how Grok first reacted to coffee," Ignis chuckled, pouring a fresh cup into a ceramic mug for Gustavo. "Here you go. Sugar? Cream? Both?"


    "He looks like a ''four lumps and heavy cream'' kind of guy," Flint observed, sizing up the cat-man merchant with a grin.


    After adding the sugar and cream as requested, Ignis handed Gustavo the steaming beverage. The entire group fell silent, anticipation building as they waited for Gustavo''s reaction.


    Gustavo took the cup, pulling it close to his nose to deeply inhale the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the sweetness of the sugar and the delicate scent of cream, artfully poured into a heart shape. A genuine, wide smile erupted across his face. Taking his first sip, Gustavo''s eyes widened in surprise. "I must know everything about this drink," he declared. "Your items can arm a few hundred warriors, but entire planets would sell their grandmothers for this!"


    "Yes, it reminds me of the ceremonial drink at the pre-battle feast!" Grok exclaimed, sipping from her own mug. "It awakens the spirit and body for the day."


    "That would be a great Folgers Crystals ad!" Evolon chuckled.


    "It''s no Starbucks, but I guess my spirit is sufficiently awakened," Pierce joked.


    "STARBUCKS?!" Ignis exclaimed, his voice rising with the cadence of someone who has repeated this sentiment countless times. "Burned bean garbage! I taste and source each bag of fresh beans, personally roast them to perfection, then grind them before pressing. My beans won the 2021 World Barista Championship, and placed four other times since I embarked on my quest for the perfect coffee!"


    "You must show me to your supplier," Gustavo declared, greed gleaming in his eyes as he savored the steaming drink. "This beverage could ignite an economic boom on this planet."


    "You and Ignis can work on bringing Earth''s food and drinks over to Magicland later," Flint grumbled, slapping Gustavo on the shoulder, causing a small amount of hot coffee to spill. "Could you imagine the rest of the group sitting here and listening to these two take over the world with pizza, hamburgers, coffee, and ice cream? It would be so excruciatingly boring, I''d rather take a hammer to my own head."


    "Is it¡­ weird that he''s drinking the coffee like a normal person?" Evolon asked, tilting her head in confusion.


    "Do you expect me to lap it up like some common beast?" Gustavo retorted with a scowl.


    "Regardless," Pierce interjected, "I had a few questions for you, Gustavo. We need information, and I was hoping for an advance on the auction proceeds to get some things done today."


    "How much of an advance?" Gustavo asked, his reluctance evident.


    "We need some information before we can determine the exact amount," Pierce replied.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "Ahhh, the information brokers in this city are notorious for overcharging and under-delivering," Gustavo chuckled, handing over a dozen tickets to the auction. "Here, this should suffice. Just let them glimpse a low-grade enchanted blade or breastplate, no more than two tickets per broker, and you''ll know the Grand Chief''s mistress''s favorite meal in no time."


    "This should work," Pierce agreed. "I think Gustavo, Evolon, Flint, and Ignis should go acquire provisions, while Grok and I gather information."


    "Bro, I love you, but you know the cardinal rule: never split the party!" Ignis exclaimed, pulling out an extra plate and serving Gustavo a generous portion of eggs, bacon, and toast. He then neatly plated the remaining breakfast and stowed it away in his inventory.


    "This isn''t D&D, and there isn''t some evil DM trying to kill us," Pierce remarked. "We''re just normal people exploring a new place. What could possibly go wrong?"


    "He said the thing," Flint exclaimed, slapping Pierce on the back. The force of the blow sent Pierce''s yolk-soaked toast flying, leaving a streak of yellow across his cheek. "Now things are definitely going to go sideways, and you''ll probably end up with some absurdly overpowered magical ability."


    "Everything will be fine," Pierce assured the group, trying to calm their nerves. "Just be careful, keep a low profile, and absolutely no unnecessary fighting! If things go south, meet back here or at the storefront where we first met Gustavo."


    "We''re doomed," Evolon groaned, sinking back into her chair.


    "The last time you said that, we ended up swimming in a volcano," Ignis chuckled. "That might actually be okay now, with my newfound resistance to fire."


    "Finish up your breakfast, Grok," Pierce instructed, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and sliding them onto his face. "We''re off to gather some intel!"


    "Grok like your eye mask," Grok asked, eyeing Pierce''s sunglasses with interest. "Do you have an eye mask for Grok?"


    Evolon, with a mischievous glint in her eye, pulled out a pair of oversized, star-shaped Elton John glasses. "I have an extra pair for you, Grok!" she declared, handing them to the Orc.


    "Do they make Grok look sneaky?" Grok inquired, adjusting the glasses with a tentative hand.


    "You look fabulous, darling!" Evolon exclaimed, bursting into laughter.


    "If the tickets don''t work," Gustavo said, handing Pierce a small pouch of gold coins, "take these with you."


    "If I''m not back in three hours, just wait longer!" Pierce declared, crouching low and humming the Mission Impossible theme song as he exited the hidden room with Grok.


    "Drama Queen!" Evolon shouted as the door began to close, plunging the passageway into near darkness.


    Grok led Pierce through a series of winding passages that eventually opened onto a circular set of stairs that seemed to ascend endlessly. After fourteen dizzying revolutions, they finally emerged onto a short rooftop, the two-story building dwarfed by the towering skyscrapers that hemmed it in on three sides.


    Without hesitation, Grok leaped from the second-floor landing, landing with a soft thud in a pen filled with squealing, bright red pigs. Pierce, taking a deep breath, followed suit, jumping from the two-story building into a small pile of hay. He felt a slight sting in his heels as he landed, instinctively rolling to dissipate the impact.


    "Why fall like that?" Grok inquired.


    "I learned to take a dive during my mountain bike training," Pierce explained. "Rolling like that spreads the impact force over a longer period, allowing for a longer fall without sustaining significant damage. Though, it seems unnecessary here."


    "Cadium-reinforced bodies can withstand much more than that," Grok commented through their mental link. "Stay close, stay silent, and move with the shadows."


    Taking off at a sprint that would have made Usain Bolt jealous, Pierce realized the rest of the party had been moving at a normal human pace. He suddenly became aware of a newfound agility, strength, and flexibility. He effortlessly leaped over a ten-foot rock wall without even breaking stride, a grin splitting his face. Lost in the exhilaration of his newfound abilities, Pierce reveled in the sheer joy of movement, leaping over obstacles and navigating the urban jungle with an almost supernatural grace.


    After what felt like only a few exhilarating moments, Grok''s voice returned to his mind through their mental link. "We are here. Trunagl is the small Orc there selling the Lockfruit. We approach together. I do the talking until we are alone."


    "What is a Lockfruit?" Pierce inquired, curiosity piqued.


    "The orange fruit," Grok explained. "When cooked, it opens like a mouth. You scoop out the insides and eat. When it cools, the mouth slams shut, sometimes locking onto the arm of the slow eater. Is much fun around the campfire."


    Pierce chuckled, imagining the chaotic scenes that must unfold around a campfire with these mischievous fruits.


    "Killer pumpkin, got it," Pierce muttered under his breath as they approached the fruit vendor.


    "LOCKFRUIT! TEN FOR ONE GOLD!" the orc, a full head shorter than Grok, shouted to the passing crowd.


    "How much for the lot?" Grok inquired, her voice firm.


    "Ahh, a bulk order," Trunagl said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You must be feeding a sizable clan. Come, come, let us discuss the details." He gestured towards a rounded doorway leading into a mud hut nestled behind his fruit stall.


    Moving through several rooms, each door closing silently behind them, they finally entered a windowless room furnished with a small table and two chairs. Grok and Trunagl took their seats, while Pierce glanced around for a third chair, only to find the room was surprisingly spartan.


    "What can I get you, old friend, Grok of the Zotto Clan?" Trunagl asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.


    "It is now Grok of the Donner Party," Grok corrected, yielding the floor to Pierce.


    "We wish to know more about the invading party of Earth," Pierce began, "who financed it, where the Humans that were taken are, how to procure them, and the means of getting them back home."


    "Is that so?" Trunagl squinted at Pierce, his eyes narrowed. "A difficult one is this. I can do this, but it will not be cheap."


    "Inspect this," Pierce said, holding out the sword hilt for Trunagl to examine.


    The small orc carefully scrutinized the hilt, his eyes widening. "Over 40 total damage. This could wipe out half the city in a warrior''s hands." He sized up Pierce and Grok, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face before disappearing.


    "One ticket to the Auction of 6 items of this quality or better later this week," Pierce said, handing over a yellow token. "If we like the information you give, a second ticket could be yours."


    Trunagl''s eyes widened again. "Ahhh, so that''s what Gustavo has been up to," he muttered, the apprehension replaced by a greedy glint in his eyes as he accepted the ticket.


    "I guess he does know a thing or two," Pierce remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.


    "Tell me," Trunagl inquired, his eyes narrowing, "what do you know of the Doombringer?"


    "Dungbringer?" Grok scoffed. "The Councilmember that failed upwards so many times through sheer luck and treachery?"


    "That one," Trunagl confirmed. "Word is he was about to be demoted from the Council permanently when the Seeker reported about some Cadium on a zero-magic world in the middle of nowhere."


    "What about my people?" Pierce interrupted, cutting off the two Orcs who seemed to be on the verge of regaling him with humorous anecdotes about the incompetent invader.


    "Doombringer had them all exported to his planet for interrogation," Trunagl explained. "He paid quite a bit in taxes and extra charges to skip the stockyard and auctions."


    "Bribes," Grok clarified.


    "My information stops at the Doombringer Portal," Trunagl explained. "As little has come back this way since the invasion failed. They were very worked up about losing their portal masters and the connection to this Earth. Also, coming back empty-handed means their desperate play was at a heavy loss in prestige and gold.


    "It seems old Dungbringer financed the invasion based on promises of a percentage of the Cadium gained to the leaders of the Zotto clan, who were poised to become Council Members themselves. The Zottos are working themselves up into a frenzy, but we all know it''s suicide to enter their planet with millions of undead waiting to add more to their collection."


    "Thank you for the information," Pierce said, holding the second ticket in his hand. "I hope you don''t mind us confirming it before you get the rest of your payment."


    "I would never tell a lie," the short orc exclaimed, feigning shock with a theatrical flourish.


    "Come, we now go to his competition to see what they have to say," Grok growled, her voice low and menacing. "Either he gets paid, or he loses a limb."


    Grok and Pierce navigated the bustling bazaar, eventually stopping at a stall run by a lizard man who was busily grilling meat on a stick.


    "This is great!" Pierce exclaimed, pulling the last piece of tender, juicy meat off the stick. "What did you say this meat is?"


    "Grilled Human," the nameless lizard man barked, a hiss accompanying his words.


    "He is joking," Grok interjected. "Human meat is much more expensive, and fattier than this. I suspect Linax meat."


    "If you say so, Warrior," the lizard man replied, unconcerned, as he rotated the other sticks over the grill.


    "Where would you have gotten this Human meat from, I wonder?" Grok asked, fixing the lizard man with a chilling glare.


    "This way, let me show you my stock," the lizard man said, barking an order at a smaller green lizard woman to take over the grill. "SSASSRRAA!"


    "Wait, did that female Lizard have breasts?" Pierce asked over the mental link, his mind boggled. "How does that even work? Lizards are cold-blooded, not mammals..."


    "DO NOT ASK THE LIZARD WHY SHE HAS BREASTS!" Grok roared over the mental link, clearly exasperated.


    "I guess this proves the whole Snitty debate once and for all," Pierce announced over the Donner Party''s shared mental chat, much to the amusement of the others.


    The ensuing mental conversation quickly devolved into a heated debate about how and why snakes would have breasts, how they would feel, and whether or not they would require bras.


    "Are all humans as obsessed with milk glands as you four?" Grok asked dryly, clearly bewildered by their sudden fascination with lizardian anatomy.


    "YES!" the humans all chorused simultaneously over the mental link.


    Heading back across the bustling bazaar, Pierce paid the small Orc his ticket before returning to the hidden underground room.


    "How did the provisions go?" Pierce inquired, settling back into his chair.


    "So good! I could spend a month in that market!" Ignis exclaimed, pulling out racks of smoked meat, exotic fruits, and other delicacies from his inventory.


    "I had to stop him from tasting everything," Gustavo complained with a huff. "He offended half the vendors, calling their meat rotten or their fruit overripe."


    "That''s my chef alright," Pierce chuckled. "Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is I know where we need to go. The bad news is it''s a land of undeath ruled by an idiot edgelord."


    "Lead the way," Flint growled, flexing his massive arms and brandishing his hammer. "I''ll smash ''em!"


    "After the auction, I can arrange safe passage through the portal," Gustavo explained. "We have a hub of offworld portals, but Doombringer is not a popular location, so precautions will need to be made."


    "Fine, I''ll do this ''EBAY'' thing," Flint grumbled, "but then promise I''ll get to smash things!" He pulled out his massive hammer, a predatory glint in his eyes.

 Tato Skins, Swiss Rolls, and Dr. Pepper

    Chapter 18


    "So, Gustavo," Evolon asked, "what is there to do in this City while we wait for the auction?" "Is there a huge Space Opera, Gladiatorial Stadium, Adventure Society to check in with, Jobs board where we get quests and complete them for cash?" she inquired, thinking of all the fun things she had done in D&D while visiting a new city.


    "While our D&D experience is similar to this strange world, don''t count on it too much, some assumptions could get you killed." Pierce warned with a look.


    "Yes, yes, my friends, we have most of that. Though the translation tattoo often changes words to match what you already expect, Adventurers Guild, Jobs Board, and The Red Sands can be found in Dunblag. While I advise you to wear masks and use false names to apply to the Adventurers Guild, you will then be able to complete jobs for money and standing, eventually getting better jobs over time. You will also use that same membership to enter the Arena. These are all great ideas as you are wearing copies of what is to be auctioned, and this could lead to prospective bidders attributing any success you have to the equipment over your obviously low levels." Gustavo explained to the group with a mischievous smile.


    "We already figured out the name thing, but I like the idea of masks," Pierce said, adjusting the worn leather of his gloves. "Do you have any on you that would be generic enough for a party of Humans?"


    Gustavo chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "But of course, Pierce. These are essential for any adventurer who wishes to remain truly anonymous. They not only conceal your identity but also mask your physical features like skin tone, allowing you to blend in more effectively. Fortunately, they won''t obscure your gear, which is crucial for our plan.


    "As you know," Gustavo continued, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "the five of you have a rather distinctive group aesthetic, what with the matching low level armor. To minimize unwanted attention, I suggest some subtle adjustments. The healer, perhaps, should wear a robe fitting of your position in the group. And our archer, well, that strange bow might draw a few too many eyes. A more standard, albeit slightly less flashy, model would be preferable.


    "Your staff and wand are sufficiently generic, thank the gods," Gustavo added with a wry grin. "However, those unique weapons of yours ¨C the shield and the hammer ¨C they simply scream ''look at me!'' in the arena. We''ll need to find suitable replacements, something more commonplace for warriors of your apparent skill level.


    "But fear not," Gustavo reassured them, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I''ve taken the liberty of acquiring a small arsenal of low-level, albeit slightly battered, equipment for your use. With your enchantments, I''m sure you''ll make even these mundane weapons sing. And to ensure complete anonymity," he finished, producing a small pouch from within his robes, "I''ve procured five of these." He tossed the pouch to Pierce, who caught it with a practiced ease. "Simple concealing masks, perfect for concealing your true identities. Now go forth, my friends, and practice your deception upon the City."


    Pierce put on the black choker necklace and activated it, projecting a mask over his face that from his side was invisible, but pulling out his cellphone he could see it looked like a holographic projection that blurred out all details. This projection continued wherever his skin was visible.


    "Weird man, you look like a picture taken out of focus, but your gear is as detailed as ever. I remember seeing a few people in the crowd with masks like this, but I assumed it was something about their alien race," Ignis said, trying on his own necklace.


    "So on the name thing, I am assuming we are going all the way back to last campaign''s names and just sticking with that?" Evolon asked.


    "That works for me. House, Arrow, Thor, and Gandalf¡­ Grok what would you like your cover name to be?" Flint asked the Orc.


    "I do not know, I have never thought of being anything but Grok. It seems dishonorable to use another name." Grok says looking off into the distance in thought.


    "Grok," Pierce said, "Sometimes a little deception is necessary for survival. Think of it as a tactical advantage, a way to outmaneuver your enemies. Besides, who''s to say you can''t reclaim the name ''Grok'' once we''ve achieved our goals? Now, how about we brainstorm some aliases? Perhaps something¡­ more¡­ imposing? How about ''Grimfang''? Or maybe ''Boulderfist''?"


    Grok pondered these suggestions, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "Grimfang¡­ Boulderfist¡­" She muttered, testing the sounds in his mouth.


    "I vote Azog, I was thinking Grishnakh, but it''s a bit of a mouthful. Ogok is another good one, but too close to Grok for my taste," Ignis said, looking Grok up and down trying out aliases.


    "Azog, I like that. It sounds fierce," Grok said with a toothy smile.


    "Oh, Grok, you would also have to lose the beasts, too recognizable in battle. I suggest you play up the alchemist angle. I brought you some materials to work with. I actually brought all of you materials. After the coffee, I want to see what your cook does with all of this," Gustavo said, transferring raw materials to each party member so they could practice their new jobs, with this new purpose in mind.


    "I was thinking about including magic in my cooking, maybe illusionary ice, or flames¡­ I will get to work and see what I can do," Ignis said with a huge smile on his gaunt face.


    Gustavo looked around, observing the group of powerful adventurers working on their crafts. Pierce, a tall blond Human with strong muscular legs, was enchanting a broken blade. Evolon, a tall pale woman with brown hair and a wiry muscular frame, was doubling her efforts to create a bow out of native copper wood, known for its mana conductive nature. Flint, a short Human with red hair and a long braided red beard with large strong arms, was hammering away at a glowing red sheet of metal. Ignis, a tall thin Human wearing a robe, was chopping, cutting, and cooking over a cast iron pan while somehow also stirring a sauce in another pan without burning anything. Grok, a tall powerful Orc woman with large tusks and a slightly green-tinted skin, was smelling and mixing colorful liquids, crushing a talon of some sort in a mortar and pestle, preparing it for the mixture.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    This group of five, with the masks, could be anyone in the city if you removed a few distinctive weapons. They have so much power and promise that Gustavo couldn''t hold back his true smile creeping onto his face. His years of downward spiral after being cursed and losing his arm were the hardest of his life, but in his gratitude for being healed, and the prospect of so much profit, Gustavo knew in his soul that working with the Donner Party was going to be a story worthy of song, like those of the great heroes. He just needed to redirect them slightly a few times, and this group would propel him all the way back on top of this city once again.


    "Friends, I am off, what is your new incognito party name so I can sing your praises?" Gustavo asked.


    "Backup Plan," Pierce answered.


    "Ye be thinking its a witty inside joke about how we''re not the traditional group you approach first to fix your problems, but honestly I love trashy rom coms and the DVD was the first thing I laid eyes on when we were thinking up names for our party''s last campaign. Everyone just went with it," Flint said, pausing between pumps on his bellows.


    "What is a rom com?" Grok asked with a questioning look.


    "We spout pop culture for two days and rom com is the one you decide to ask about?" Pierce laughs.


    "Think of them as Operas or Plays where a man and a woman get themselves into funny situations, then proceed to make dumb decisions to get out of it. In the end they realize they were in love the whole time and kiss," Flint explains between hammer strikes.


    "Don''t forget the man is supposed to be an average joe, but is actually a top 10 most handsome man, and the woman is supposed to be some quirky ugly duckling and is actually a supermodel actress popstar with a pair of glasses and messy hair," Evolon laughs.


    "Wasn''t that the one with J-Lo and Matthew McConaughey?" Pierce asked.


    "J-Lo, yes, but the guy is the dude from the Hawaii Five-O remake," Ignis said while blowing on a wooden spoon full of steaming sauce before sipping it.


    "That guy from the horrible Twilight ripoff TV show Moonlight? I love that guy!" Pierce says while focusing on enchanting a rusty helmet.


    "That''s the one!" Flint confirmed, brushing the metal swarf off of his new shield with a wire brush.


    "What do you think of this?" Flint asked, showing the group his new shield.


    "Give it the Stars and Stripes and it could be Captain America''s first shield," Ignis said with a snort.


    "I didn''t want to go full Kite Shield, or another Round Shield, so I figured I would stay with a classic. No paint job though¡­ I like the raw metal look!" Flint exclaimed as he started working on the handle to his new shield.


    "Check this baby out!" Evolon said, pulling out her new copper metallic bow. "I leveled up Bowyer and my bow is now up to double my previous damage, and with a mental command can auto-nock arrows from my quiver. I can fire as fast as I can draw, aim, and release now." She demonstrated by commanding an arrow to appear pre-knocked into her bowstring, then firing it into the bunk room with a "TWACK!"


    "My shield can also double my Armor, and I can move it as if it has no weight," Flint says, moving the heavy shield around easily.


    "That is great! Let me enchant them for you guys!" Pierce says walking over to Evolon, then Flint, enchanting their new gear.


    "Taste this," Ignis said as Pierce was walking back to his enchanting station.


    "Wow that has a creamy texture, but is also fulfilling that craving for something crunchy. How???¡± Pierce asked.


    "I also leveled up cooking. I can mix visual and textural illusions into a dish," Ignis said proudly.


    "While we are showing our gains, observe," Grok said, drinking a potion that looked like water in a small bottle after removing the cork lid.


    "What is that supposed to¡­" Pierce asked before stopping awestruck as the huge orc fades into invisibility before his eyes.


    "Grok can now make Sneak Potion, but it does not hide smell or sound. Eventually, I should be able to help with those, but for now, this is the best I can do. Lasts one minute per Cadium of creator," Grok says, moving around the room as a voice with no visible body to the rest of the party.


    "We really need to get Grok more Cadium, being invisible for an hour would be awesome, but I could do a lot in two minutes, Grok, make several of those for each of us if you can, and some healing potions, and whatever else you can make," Pierce says with a smile, trying to figure out exactly where the huge orc is in the room.


    The whole group pauses, looking around the room as a piece of Linax steak floats into the air, disappearing with a smack into an invisible mouth.


    "Hey, you know the rule, wait for the final presentation! You could steal a cube of steak and end up with an empty belly!" Ignis says, slapping at the empty air.


    "Sorry, It just smells too good, Linax Steak is what we lived on in the stables growing up, both the Drakes and the children. It reminds me of home," Grok says as she fades back into view, back at her alchemy station.


    "For me it would be Tato Skins, Swiss Rolls, and Dr. Pepper," Pierce said, closing his eyes, remembering his middle school days with that combination of food for lunch every way.


    "Before we head down memory lane, are we all ready to go register at this Adventurers Guild?" Evolon asked, stowing her crafting gear in her inventory.


    "Afterwards, I would like to check out this Arena, The Red Sands," Flint said, swinging his hammer and bashing his new shield with a loud GONG!


    "Jobs Board for me, I love collect, kill, and escort quests!!" Ignis says, plating up the food and stowing it all into his inventory, waiting for mealtime.


    "If I have to do another escort quest where enemies come out of the woods every 15 feet ending with the boss just before we get back to town¡­ I am going to go crazy!" Evolon shouted in frustration.


    "Backup Plan, mask up!" Pierce says, activating his mask, sliding on a spare robe, and wielding his enchanted staff.


    "I will lead you to the Guildhall," Grok said, leading the masked party through the underground hallways to an exit beneath a wine cellar, then out a side door to the street. With the large sun shining down from directly above them, the group moved towards the center of the city.

 Powerful Universal Remover of Impurities and Filth Yield

    Chapter 19


    "Grok, I don''t see any clocks here. How do your people tell time?" Ignis inquired over the mental group chat.


    "Orcs have four primary time periods: Night, Dawn, Noon, and Dusk," Grok explained, her voice slightly condescending, as if addressing a group of children. "Each Dawn marks the beginning of a new day. We have approximately ninety days in each season: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. A complete cycle of these four seasons constitutes a year."


    "I understand," Ignis continued his line of questioning. "What about celestial events like lunar and solar eclipses?"


    "Translation magic provides a meaning for your words," Grok replied, "but I have never witnessed such phenomena."


    "I suspect that your three moons are too small to cause lunar eclipses," Pierce interjected. "And a slight axial tilt of your planet outside of its elliptical plane could prevent solar eclipses from occurring. Earth possesses a unique combination of factors that allow us to experience both these events, making it quite extraordinary within the cosmos."


    "Are you a cosmologist?" Evolon inquired with a curious, almost suspicious, glance.


    Pierce blushed slightly, "I met a woman who was fascinated by astronomy, so I enrolled in a few university courses to better understand her interests."


    "The things men will do to procreate," Evolon remarked, shaking her head in disbelief. "Did you ever seal the deal?"


    Pierce blushed deeply, "Nope, I think she''s gay. And I think she thought I was gay too. It was a very awkward evening, more like a girls'' night out in retrospect."


    "You can''t win them all," Evolon chuckled, "Given my dating history, that encounter sounds like a resounding success compared to my experiences."


    Flint, joining the conversation from the mental group chat as the group strolled through the bustling city streets, declared, "Oh come on, Evolon. You''re one of the guys, but you''re still a woman. You hold all the cards in the dating game. I''m sure there are at least three billion men back on Earth who would sell their mothers for a date with you."


    Evolon sighed exasperatedly, "I feel like I''ve dated a billion of them. Tech bros, finance bros, bitcoin bros, muscleheads ¨C you name it. All they were interested in was sex and bragging about themselves: their success, their wealth, their new Lamborghini, their Italian villa¡­ They never actually showed any interest in me as a person."


    "You know," Grok remarked to the group, "Orcs are much like that. The males beat their chests, fight with other Orcs, and try to impress me with displays of dominance, but I always say no. They never ask how my day was."


    Evolon snorted, "I know exactly what you mean! I once had a guy at the gym try to convince me to sleep with him based solely on the size of his package, which, by the way, was clearly enhanced with a sock."


    "Men!" Ignis exclaimed, shaking his head in agreement.


    "I know, girl!" Flint chimed in.


    "Oh no, he didn''t!" Pierce exclaimed, finishing the joke with a burst of laughter.


    "We''re almost there," Grok cautioned. "Whatever you do, ignore any other Adventurers who try to challenge you to a duel or start a fight. There is absolutely no fighting allowed within the Guildhall."


    Approaching the Adventurers'' Guild, they found themselves facing a brutalist masterpiece. The ten-story building, over a hundred feet wide, was constructed from massive, intricately patterned stones that shifted between dark and light hues, creating a mesmerizing fractal effect. The entrance was dominated by a colossal metal door, adorned with a mosaic depicting two wolves locked in a ferocious battle. The handles of the double doors seamlessly transitioned into the sculpted wolves, their jaws inches from clashing, appearing almost lifelike. Grok gripped the head of the left wolf, pulling the heavy door open with surprising ease. She ushered the group inside and then quietly closed the door behind them.


    "What architectural style would you call this?" Flint asked, clearly impressed. "I really like it."


    "I seem to recall something about it," Pierce replied. "Dwarven architecture often leans towards Art Deco or Brutalist styles due to their affinity for stone and their underground lifestyle, while Elves favor the more organic and flowing lines of Art Nouveau, reflecting their connection to nature and trees."


    "While I''m not entirely certain of the motivations behind it," Grok explained, "you''re generally correct. Dwarves typically construct the Adventurers'' Guilds, but the day-to-day operations are managed by the native creatures of the planet. This is stipulated in the contract that allows the Guild to establish a presence on all planets, ensuring their neutrality."


    Evolon couldn''t resist teasing her friend, "Let me guess, another woman at school studying to be an architect?"


    Ignis, gazing in awe at the intricate Guildhall interior, declared, "Tolkien must have been an alien. There''s no way a human could have conceived of this level of detail and accurately predicted so many aspects of otherworldly cultures."


    The interior of the Guildhall was even more impressive than the exterior. Polished marble replaced the rough stone, creating a breathtakingly opulent space. A massive stone desk, manned by three imposing Orcs, dominated the area directly in front of the group. Above, the towering ceilings were adorned with intricately painted marble murals depicting Adventurers battling a menagerie of fearsome beasts.


    As they approached the central desk, one of the Orcs, with a surprisingly cheerful demeanor, inquired, "What can I help you with today?"


    "A happy Orc? Is that weird, or is it just me?" Evolon mused over the mental group chat, finding the cheerful Orc rather unsettling.


    "This Orc is a retired Adventurer," Grok explained. "She has proven herself through countless battles and survived. Now, she enjoys a rewarding position within the Guild ¨C a comfortable retirement, if you will. What''s not to be happy about?"


    "Group of newly formed Adventurers," Grok announced to the Orc at the desk. "Here to register and get our badges."


    "Group Name?" the Orc inquired.


    "Backup Plan," Grok replied.


    The Orc diligently wrote in a large ledger and then stamped it with an official-looking seal. "That''ll be two gold," she declared.


    "What''s with the entry fee?" Pierce questioned over the mental chat, handing the Orc two gold coins.


    "It deters riffraff," Grok explained to the group. "It makes the process transactional, creating a sense of commitment and responsibility, rather than a casual inquiry."


    "Skrat here will show you to your interview room," the Orc announced, handing a small piece of paper to a much younger Orc with a warm smile. "Have a great day!"


    "Does she work on commission somehow?" Flint whispered, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.


    "Yes," Grok explained to the group as she nodded goodbye to Sally, "the receptionist''s salary is supplemented by a small percentage of the fees that pass through their desk. I always try to use Sally whenever possible. She was the Adventurer who once single-handedly eradicated a vicious species of teleporting snakes that were terrorizing the stables and devouring Drake eggs."


    "We really should implement that system at the DMV back home," Ignis remarked with a chuckle over the mental group chat.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The group navigated through a series of smooth stone hallways, illuminated at regular intervals by soft, circular glowing stones. After passing ten or so stone doorways, they were led into a room furnished with several comfortable leather chairs arranged around a sturdy stone table. The group entered and took their seats, awaiting the arrival of their interviewer.


    "Is there anything I can do to expedite the process?" Grok inquired politely, tossing a gold coin towards the young Orc. The Orc deftly caught the coin in mid-air, a wide grin spreading across his face.


    "Yes Mam!" the young Orc whispered, closing the door softly behind him as he departed.


    "I expected Orcs to be more about tribalism and honor, not all about business and contracts," Evolon joked with the group, her voice audible to everyone in the room.


    "You walk into the movie expecting Rambo," Flint declared, slapping the table with a hearty laugh, "and instead you get Tulsa King ¨C a big guy in a suit who''ll punch you and then make you sign a contract giving away the family farm."


    "Lunch?" Ignis offered, pulling a series of steaming plates and ice-cold canned drinks from his inventory.


    "Magic is awesome!" Flint exclaimed, digging into the food with a wide grin.


    Just as the group finished their meal, the door opened silently, and a large female Orc entered the room. She wore an eyepatch over one eye, her long black hair pulled back into a tight bun, and a well-worn brown leather dress. "Backup Plan?" she grunted, her voice laced with a hint of disdain. "Ugh, another group of idiots heading out into the world to get themselves killed."


    "We are Backup Plan," Grok answered.


    The old Orc shuffled towards the chair, her gaze lingering on each member of the party with a suspicious glare. She finally sat down heavily, opening a large, worn book. "Names?" she demanded.


    "House, Arrow, Thor, Gandalf, and Azog," Grok replied, gesturing towards each party member in turn.


    "Sure you are," the old Orc scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Are they all mute, or just anonymous?"


    "I talk," Ignis declared, adopting a theatrical, over-the-top British accent. "My mouth, it works."


    "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Pierce exclaimed over the mental chat, sounding utterly bewildered.


    "It''s called ''incognito'' for a reason," Ignis replied smugly over the mental chat. "I''m in character."


    "You what, mate?" Evolon chimed in, mimicking Ignis''s exaggerated accent. "We''re bog-standard, grab ya brolly, and bob''s your uncle."


    The gruff Orc leaned forward, her single good eye gleaming with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. Her voice, like sandpaper on stone, rasped, "Alright, misfits. This is the Adventurers'' Guild. This ain''t no tea party. We''re the ones who keep this city safe, hunt down the nasties that go bump in the night, and clean up the messes no one else wants. You think you got what it takes?"


    She gestures around the small, cluttered room. "This ain''t no fancy place. We get the jobs no one else wants. Bandits, goblins, the occasional rogue griffin ¨C you name it, we deal with it. But there''s rules. First, you follow orders. If the Guildmaster says jump, you ask how high and then you leap. Second, you protect the innocent. No collateral damage, understand? Civilians come first, always. Third, you stick to the code. No stealing, no lying, no betraying your fellow adventurers. Break any of those rules, and you''re out. Gone. Dust in the wind."


    The Orc fixes each of the masked figures with her gaze, a flicker of something like pity in her eye. "Now, I don''t know who you folks are, hiding behind your masks. But I can tell you this ¨C the Guild ain''t for the faint of heart. It''s dangerous work. You could lose a limb, lose your life¡­ or worse. But if you''re truly looking for adventure, for a chance to make a difference, then welcome aboard. Now, let''s see what you''ve got."


    She slams her hefty tome onto the table, the pages crackling. "First quest, find Elara the Lost. She''s a young Orc, wandered off into the Whispering Woods. Bring her back alive, and you''ll earn your first badge. Any questions?"


    "Wait, we have to audition for the Guild?" Pierce asked, bewildered.


    "Entry is at the handler''s discretion," the old Orc grumbled. "I don''t like masked fools like you, and you must first prove to the Guild that you can be trusted with an innocent life before we will allow you membership. Now go, it''s Noon, and poor Elara is cold and starving." The old Orc waved a dismissive hand, ushering the group out of the room.


    "This is a common test of skill," Grok explained over the mental chat to the group. "Lok doesn''t want to attach her name to an unproven group of misfits."


    "We can''t be just any geek off the street, got it," Flint acknowledged over the mental chat as they exited the Adventurers'' Guild and stepped back onto the bustling stone streets of Dunblag.


    "This way," Grok instructed, guiding the group through the crowd. "The Whispering Woods are located just outside the East Gate, about half a day''s travel from the city."


    The group made their way through the bustling city, passing numerous food carts, vendors, and even a few street musicians. Suddenly, Ignis stopped, his attention drawn to a small stage surrounded by a curious crowd. On the stage, a wiry, pale human man was addressing the crowd with an amplified voice.


    ¡°VANISHING BEFORE YOUR EYES!¡± The loud man said as he wiped a small white cloth over a dirty adventurer''s muddy armor revealing a gleaming clean surface. ¡°ONLY EBONS PURIFY CLOTH CAN CLEAN SUCH A MESS EASILY! Ebon, that is myself¡± the man says with a bow to the crowd. ¡°Powerful Universal Remover of Impurities and Filth Yield. This cloth is enchanted with a permanent spell costing the user no mana and will clean anything it touches.


    "I want one," Ignis declared over the mental group chat.


    "Be careful," Grok warned. "These are normally some kind of scam."


    "I have a good feeling about this," Pierce insisted, handing a pouch of gold to Ignis.


    Moving to the front of the crowd, Ignis approached Ebon. "How much for two cloths?" he inquired.


    "I like the look you got going on, kid," Ebon said, his voice booming as he played to the crowd. "For you, three gold each, or two for five gold!"


    At the announcement of the cost, several members of the crowd dispersed, seemingly put off by the price. However, those who remained had a thoughtful look on their faces, as if carefully weighing the cost against the potential usefulness of such an item. Soon, a wave of excitement rippled through the crowd as several people raised their hands, each holding three gold coins.


    Before anyone else could interject, Ignis smoothly palmed five gold coins and handed them to Ebon. He then deftly navigated his way through the increasingly frenzied crowd, returning to his friends with two gleaming white cloths in hand.


    Handing one of the white cloths to Pierce, the group resumed their journey through the crowded street towards the East Gate.


    "No more detours," Grok growled over the mental chat. "I don''t want to fail this quest just because one of you fell for some scam."


    Pierce, meanwhile, was intently inspecting the cloth. He recognized a few faint runes magically embedded within the fabric. Cross-referencing these unfamiliar symbols with the runes he had encountered while enchanting weapons and armor, his mind began to race, attempting to decipher the alien script.


    "Healboy, get your head in the game!" Evolon shouted, snapping him back to reality. Pierce had become so engrossed in his mental musings that he had almost walked straight past a corner, oblivious to the group''s change in direction.


    At the East Gate, Grok exchanged a few words with the guards, tossing a coin to the largest of them. The guard grinned broadly as he pocketed the coin.


    "I suspect new members of the Guild get the same quest," Grok explained to the group. "Confirmed from Raynog here. One of his men escorted our target through the woods not long ago. I am also warned to avoid tree roots. Some are a slime monster that will eat your foot off with acid the moment you put your weight on them. They are weak to water spells, of which none of us possess, and are immune to most weapon damage."


    "At least they aren''t cube-shaped," Flint quipped, trying to lighten the mood.


    "They should have named this planet Australia," Ignis declared, "where everything is trying to kill and eat you."


    "Humans should try not being so tasty," Grok retorted, continuing the lighthearted banter.


    Suddenly, Pierce exclaimed, "Hey, it stopped working!" His previously pristine white cloth now looked dingy, failing to remove a spot of dirt from the piece of armor he was rubbing.


    "Proximity Scam," Grok explained. "The enchantment only works when you are close to the caster. Get far enough away, and it reverts to a common washcloth."


    As the group made their way down the busy road away from the city, Pierce received a notification.


    "New spell acquired: Purify - Touch a creature or object to clean up to five square feet of dirt, grime, rust, blood, or other non-magical filth. This spell has no effect on curses."


    Pierce then proceeded to walk up to each party member, casting the newly acquired spell on them.


    "WOW! I feel like I just took a refreshing shower!" Evolon exclaimed.


    "Clothes are clean too, I like it!" Flint laughed.


    "Even my underwear feels brand new," Ignis declared, pulling his hands from his pants. "That''s it, no more showers. Just cast that crazy magic on me every day."


    "How did you do that?" Grok asked, inspecting her now gleaming armor with astonishment.


    "I just looked at the cloth," Pierce explained, "found its runes, compared them to my enchanting runes, and then tried to enchant it on my gloves. But somehow, the magic system interpreted that as casting a new spell and added it to my spell list. It reminds me of those LitRPG stories where the main character is obsessed with being clean yet somehow always ends up digging his way out of the interior of some giant beast covered in blood and excrement. We always handwave the whole hygiene issue in D&D, but I guess now I have a real way of solving that problem."


    "Watch out," Flint declared, slapping Pierce''s back with a hearty belly laugh. "We''ll set up a stall back in town and charge Adventurers 1 gold per magic shower. We''ll turn you into a glorified car wash."

 Exploiter gonna exploit

    Chapter 20


    "Question for the group," Pierce began, "do we proceed directly as the Guild instructed, or do we employ a more¡­ expeditious method?"


    "Oh no," Evolon joked, "he''s got another ''Now hear me out'' idea brewing."


    "Is this like the time you spent three hours in-game trying to circumvent a magical door instead of simply finding the key?" Flint inquired with a chuckle.


    "Exploiter gonna exploit," Ignis grumbled. "I spent twenty hours meticulously preparing for that haunted house, and Healerpants over here decided to skip eighty percent of it, breaking three axes chopping the non magical doorway around the door."


    "I am uncertain of the precise question," Grok responded, "but I choose the path that brings the most glory to The Donner Party."


    "Grok, summon your beasts," Pierce instructed. "Have Bromli scout ahead in an arc through the forest to locate the girl. Upon finding her, carefully retrieve her and return to the party. Then, dismiss your beasts from the search."


    "Called it, using flight to trivialize the quest!" Evolon exclaimed, shaking her head.


    "These rolling hills and wagon tracks give me an idea," Pierce said, removing his bike from his inventory.


    "OH HELL YAH!" Evolon shouted, "Shredding on an alien planet ¨C take that, Mark Watney!" The group retrieved their bikes from their inventories and began pedaling up the gentle incline.


    On the subsequent downhill, Ignis executed a spectacular wheelie, overtaking Pierce on the left-hand rut of the winding path that led through the grassy foothills towards a copper-hued forest a few miles distant. On the next short ascent, Evolon performed a gravity-defying no-handed jump, followed by a perfectly executed no-handed landing.


    "This dexterity stat is insane," Evolon exclaimed with glee. "I''ve always enjoyed technical riding, but jumping like this¡­ I understand why you all love it so much."


    The group enjoyed ten minutes of exhilarating hill-climbing and gravity-defying jumps before reaching the edge of the woods, where the cart trail narrowed as it became enveloped by the trees. Stowing their bikes, they continued on foot, weapons drawn and senses heightened, prepared for any encounter.


    "My canine companion has detected the scent of an Orc to the southeast of the road," Grok informed the group. "I am unable to fly through the dense tree canopy, so we must proceed on foot. Pierce, the dog requires healing; he lost a foot to an acid root monster. I will land near you shortly." Grok concluded, just before she gracefully descended with Bromli into the field at the forest''s edge.


    "I''ll take point," Pierce declared, a serious expression on his face.


    "I can practically see the gears turning," Ignis remarked, the expression of a seasoned Dungeon Master etched on his face. "He''s about to attempt something unconventional to ''break the game.''"


    "Good thing this isn''t a game," Flint commented as he used his shield to flatten saplings, creating a makeshift trail.


    "I keep forgetting that," Ignis admitted, rubbing his arm where the cut had healed, though a strange tingling sensation still lingered. "It feels so incredibly real, like we''re at a gaming table, visualizing everything in our minds. But then I get hit by an enemy blade, and¡­ well, that certainly brings you back to reality!"


    Pierce removed his boots and, barefoot, led the way cautiously and deliberately, carefully navigating the forest floor, giving each tree a wide berth. Flint followed, using his shield and hammer to clear the path for the others. Grok followed closely behind, her sword expertly severing any branches or saplings that Flint might have missed. Evolon, her bow drawn and her eyes constantly scanning the surroundings, followed easily. Ignis strolled along as if unconcerned, but mentally, he prepared his Time Stop spell, just in case it was needed. The group proceeded in this manner for approximately thirty minutes before Pierce let out an excited shout.


    "IT WORKED!" he exclaimed.


    "Oh mighty Pierce," Ignis quipped, "regale us with your latest exploit!"


    "I finally stepped on an acid root," Pierce explained, "and just as I felt the burning sensation, I cast Purify on myself. The spell must have interpreted the acid root as ''filth,'' because it vanished completely, and I''m perfectly fine. I removed my boots because as healing is an option, losing comfortable boots is not.¡±


    "Of course," Evolon joked, "the all-powerful healer receives a seemingly harmless spell that ultimately proves to be the key to accomplishing the near-impossible task¡­ an idiot could write a better story than this."


    "Choose your words carefully," Grok cautioned, stepping gingerly around the massive copper root of a tree. "In my experience, insulting the Gods rarely has positive consequences for the party."


    "If I were the Dungeon Master of this adventure," Ignis joked, "I''d have a bog monster devour you after a comment like that."


    "For one," Flint declared solemnly, "I am thoroughly enjoying this adventure, and I would like to take this moment to express my gratitude to the Creator, Guide, Dungeon Master, System, God, or whoever is running the show."


    Pierce ignored his friend''s playful banter as he carefully placed his bare foot on the next foot-tall tree root, cast Purify, and then shifted his weight onto it. His foot passed through the root as if it weren''t there, landing on solid ground. The root dissolved before his eyes, and a notification appeared in his vision.


    New Spell Acquired: Mana Shield ¨C You weave a protective shield of magical energy around yourself. For the duration, when you are subjected to an attack that deals damage, you can expend a number of mana points equal to the damage dealt. If you do, the attack has no effect on you.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "I got a new spell!" Pierce exclaimed with a laugh, his mind already racing with potential applications for this powerful ability.


    "Of course he does," Ignis muttered in a dejected tone.


    "It''s a Mana Shield," Pierce explained. "I believe I can leave it active, and it will consume mana instead of health when I am struck. While not as mana-efficient as healing myself, forgoing the pain and the possibility of instant death is awesome."


    "Why do the healers always get this kind of crap?" Flint exclaimed, exasperated. "Why not the guy who gets hit the most?"


    "This all stemmed from the Purify cloth, correct?" Ignis mused. "I think Pierce should focus on all the enchanted items we encounter. His ability to transform an item into a personal spell could be a significant advantage in this world for all of us. I wonder if I could do the same with cooking recipes."


    "Ahead," Evolon whispered, silencing the others and aiming her bow towards the left.


    The group cautiously approached a small ring of large copper trees, within which sat a small Orc girl playing a game with black and white stones, resembling checkers. "About time you got here," the short Orc declared, extending her hand without even looking at the group. "Now give me something tasty to eat, or I will have Lok to deny your application!"


    "Ignis," Pierce instructed over the mental chat, "give her an Energy Drink and a bag of Reese''s Pieces."


    "But won''t that make her hyperactive?" Evolon inquired over the chat.


    "In approximately thirty minutes," Pierce explained, "which is roughly how long it will take Grok to fly her back home and deliver her to her parents."


    "BROTHER," Flint exclaimed over the mental chat in a voice reminiscent of Macho Man Randy Savage, "never expected the noble healer to turn heel, but I respect the game. OOOOH YEAHHHH!!!"


    The four humans erupted in laughter, much to the confusion of the two Orcs, as Ignis handed the child a handful of chocolate candy and opened a Watermelon Monster for her.


    "Oh, the humanity!" Evolon joked over the group chat. "He gave her the Watermelon Monster! What''s next, are you going to kill her dog?" Evolon detested anything watermelon-flavored.


    "I figured I''d dispose of one while I had the chance," Ignis admitted. "Our supply of snacks from home is dwindling, except for that particular flavor."


    "You said to get Energy Drinks," Pierce protested over the mental chat. "How was I supposed to know half the case would be this undrinkable monstrosity?"


    "It''s alright," Flint assured him over the mental chat, "just be prepared to heal the child from the effects of consuming that garbage."


    "Elara, I presume," Grok said, picking up the girl. "Come with us. We will return you to your clan." Grok reversed course, retracing the path the group had carved through the forest.


    Without any further complications, the group emerged from the forest and returned to the grassy hills. They remounted their bikes and proceeded towards the city, with Grok carrying Elara on Bromli''s back. The two Orcs soared through the air in a joyful circle before heading directly towards the city, Elara squealing with delight and urging Grok to fly faster. After an exhilarating ten-minute ride through the hills, the four humans approached the main road, bustling with travelers coming and going. They dismounted their bikes and continued on foot, blending in with the crowd. Outside the city gates, the humans were recognized by the guards and waved through without a word.


    On their way back to the Adventurers Guild, Ignis and Pierce were on the lookout for inexpensive enchanted items with specific effects they could potentially utilize. They acquired a variety of intriguing objects: an enchanted Campstove, four luminous stones, a magical spyglass for long-distance observation, a bean that, when placed in the mouth, allowed for underwater breathing, a feather that granted the caster slight levitation and a slow descent from great heights, and a set of fluffy white earmuffs that provided the wearer with cold resistance. Pierce placed all of these items in his inventory, eager to study them and potentially replicate some of the enchantments into his own utility spells.


    As the sun started to creep below the walls of the City the group arrived back at the Adventurers Guild. They found themselves standing in line behind several Orcs at Sally''s counter, while two other receptionists sat idly, seemingly bored, with no one to assist. After a brief wait, the group reached the front of the line, where they were greeted by Sally with a warm smile.


    "Welcome back," Sally said. "Sktrat will show you to your room. And I would like to express my sincere gratitude for your care of Elara. She is my pride and joy."


    "It was our pleasure," Evolon replied with a forced sincerity to the Orc, before following the group to their designated room.


    The four humans entered the same meeting room where they had previously met, finding Lok and Grok already seated at the table, a large book open in front of the older Orc.


    "I see you made it out of the forest alive," Lok remarked, her gaze lingering suspiciously on Pierce''s bare feet.


    "Oh, I completely forgot about that," Pierce said, quickly sitting down, retrieving his socks and boots from his inventory, and pulling them on.


    "Let''s see here," Lok began, her voice dry as she consulted her book. "Deductions for bribing a guard. While not strictly forbidden, conducting such transactions openly is generally frowned upon. Deductions for flying with my granddaughter at an excessive speed. Deductions for¡­ shall we say, ''energizing'' a child with substances that appear to have had a significantly stimulating effect on her cognitive and physical functions, leading to an apparent craving for more. It will be a miracle if I don''t have to sedate her within the hour. And finally, deductions¡­ simply because." Lok finished, a sneer playing on her lips as she continued to write in her book.


    "But did we pass?" Pierce inquired, squatting and jumping in place to ensure his boots were properly positioned.


    "Before you answer," Evolon interjected, hoping to sway the decision in their favor, "I would like to present you with a family heirloom from my clan back on Earth. It is an artifact that can bring great fortune to its wielder." She retrieved a crystal-clear stone with intricate markings from her inventory and placed it before the older Orc.


    "I must admit," Lok said, picking up the clear rock with a newfound interest, "I did not expect an attempt to bribe an officer of the Adventurers Guild. While my position precludes me from allowing my judgment to be influenced, it does not explicitly prohibit the acceptance of such gifts."


    "What does your clan call such an artifact?" Lok inquired.


    "A D20," Evolon replied reverently.


    "I would like to thank you for this generous gift," Lok acknowledged. "On a completely different matter, I hereby award each of you Tier 1 badges. These badges grant you the authority to undertake solo Tier 1 jobs or participate in group Tier 2 jobs. They also provide you with free access to the Arena, both as spectators and as participants. Another benefit is a 10% discount on rooms at participating inns." Lok placed five white stones, each inscribed with glowing runes, on the table.


    "How do we know which inns participate?" Pierce inquired.


    "They will display an Adventurers Guild shield near their check-in area," Lok explained. "In smaller villages and towns, they often serve as extensions of the Adventurers Guild, with their own job boards. Now, be off with you. And if I hear of you even so much as bending a single Guild rule, Your membership will be revoked!" Lok declared, slamming her book shut and rising to leave the room.


    "Good thinking, Evolon," Flint remarked over the mental chat. "I thought we were doomed."


    "Artifact that brings good fortune¡­" Ignis added, "Good thing you didn''t explain what happens when you roll a one."


    "Enough chatter," Flint declared, slapping the table with a resounding THACK! "Grab your badges! I was promised an Arena session!"

 What in the Kelly Clarkson was that?

    Chapter 21


    "I haven''t seen a good Arena battle in some time," Grok said to the group with a determined smile. "Come, I will show you the way."


    "Could we stop on the way for a post-quest drink?" Ignis asked.


    "Now that I think of it, I am quite parched," Flint agreed.


    "One drink, no bar fights!" Evolon demanded.


    "Come, you will see," Grok said, leading the group out of the Adventurers Guild and south through the city. After sunset, floating glowing orbs at regular intervals appeared across the city, illuminating the streets and enlivening the establishments on the ground level. Music, dancing, and people of all kinds filled the street.


    "This is crazy. It''s like a block party that never ends," Pierce mused, following his friends through the bustling city.


    The group turned a corner and spotted a large stone colosseum ahead, situated down a wide street lined with food and drink vendors. Winding their way up the avenue, Grok suddenly turned right and entered a door that looked indistinguishable from the others, lacking any noticeable sign or distinguishing detail that Pierce could discern. Entering the bar, Pierce was immediately greeted by a potent aroma: ale with a hint of cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and a curious blend of sweat and excitement. He could hear the crowd booing a Dwarvish man on stage, who was reciting some bizarre form of poetry that included unsettling guttural noises. The group found an open spot at the bar, and Grok ordered drinks simply by signaling with five fingers on one hand and a gold coin in the other. Soon, five copperwood tankards of a cold, spicy ale appeared before them, delivered by an old male orc who walked with a pronounced limp.


    "This is our own brew, created here in Dunblag, by Clan Zotto," Grok explained, taking a long pull of the ale and joining the chorus of boos directed at the Dwarf on stage. "It was once shipped off the planet in barrels by the thousands, but unfortunately fell out of style."


    "I like it! It reminds me of Christmas!" Flint exclaimed, draining the entire tankard in one swift motion.


    "It''s okay, but I bet Pierce is dying over there," Evolon remarked, taking a large sip.


    "It''s the cinnamon flavor," Pierce admitted, taking a small sip that warmed his body from the inside. "Not my favorite, but not horrible."


    Evolon joined in on the booing. "So what is that guy doing? Doesn''t he know this is horrible?" she asked Grok.


    "The stage is open for anyone brave enough to face the wrath of the crowd," Grok explained between boos. "He will leave soon before they break his legs."


    "What do you think, boys? I want to give it a shot. I wonder if they have ever heard Queen before?" Evolon asked the group.


    "Oh god, is she going to pull an ''A Knight''s Tale'' on us?" Flint groaned, already finishing his second tankard of ale.


    The red-faced Dwarf finally exited the stage, and a skinny, blue-skinned, tall man took his place. "Who wants to follow a great performance like that? Everyone give Bliznak a hand!" he announced, only to be met with a crescendo of boos.


    Jumping up from her seat, Evolon bounced over to the stage, standing next to the bewildered blue man. "I''ll give it a go," she declared in a deliberately affected British accent.


    "What''s with the stupid accent? Why do you guys keep doing it?" Pierce asked the remaining members of the party.


    "When you stumble upon gold, you don''t let it go easily," Ignis replied, his voice dripping with a thick, exaggerated British accent. "Besides, I think it makes us sound official, respectable, and intelligent."


    The blue man on the stage looked at Evolon with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, then silently yielded the stage, stepping back a short distance as if expecting this to be a brief and forgettable interlude.


    "Okay, first, I would like all of you to do something for me," Evolon requested, addressing the now silent crowd.


    The crowd, primarily composed of Orcs, stared at her intently, waiting for any sign of weakness or foolishness that they could exploit.


    "Place your hand on your heart," Evolon instructed, remembering that Orcs, despite their differences, possessed hearts in roughly the same location as humans and experienced a similar heartbeat.


    The crowd, seemingly surprised by this unusual request, slowly complied.


    "Now follow me," she said, placing her own hand over her heart and then beating it once with her fist, followed by a firm stomp on the floor, creating a deliberate, percussive heartbeat sound.


    Slowly, hesitantly at first, the crowd began to mimic her actions, creating a slow, steady rhythm that filled the bar.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    ¡°Hear the legend, Hear the name!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He stood for honor, not for fame!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    Alone he stood, against the tide.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    A thousand foes, none on his side.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He knew not fear, beneath the sun


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He stood his ground, as the slaughter begun.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    ¡°Hear the legend, Hear the name!Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He stood for honor, not for fame!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    With blade ablaze, a fiery dance.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He fought with fury, a fearless trance.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    They fell before him, a bloody rain.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    But numbers they had, he fought in vain.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    ¡°Hear the legend, Hear the name!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He stood for honor, not for fame!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He fell at last, a valiant sight.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    A beacon of courage, burning bright.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    His body still, his spirit free.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    A battle won, for all to see.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    ¡°Hear the legend, Hear the name!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    He stood for honor, not for fame!


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    Though he is gone, his memory remains.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    A whisper on the wind, a song sustains


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    Inspire us all, to rise and fight.


    (clap, stomp) (clap, stomp)


    For Freedom and Justice, WITH ALL OUR MIGHT!


    Evolon then left the stage as the bar erupted in cheers and battle chants. Approaching her beer, she took another sip while the four humans stared at her in stunned silence.


    "What in the Kelly Clarkson was that?" Ignis finally exclaimed, breaking the silence.


    "Guitar Hero, Karaoke, Open Mic Nights¡­ yeah, I spend a lot of time with you guys, but not every waking moment," Evolon replied nonchalantly.


    "Wait, you play Guitar Hero, and you actually go out and do things like that alone?" Flint asked suspiciously.


    "Okay, you caught me. Once upon a time, I was in an all-girl band. We never really broke up, life just got in the way. Gigs turned into playing Rock Band at my place, or getting together for Karaoke once a month," Evolon explained to the group.


    "I KNEW IT! She does have another friend group, and they''re all girls, and she never once wanted to introduce us to them? Are they single, cute? How about a redhead? I bet your drummer is a fiery redhead! Introduce me to her, please, please, please!" Ignis pleaded, his voice laced with a mixture of jest and genuine interest.


    "I think you''re forgetting we''re on an alien planet, and our town was recently ravaged by an invasion," Pierce pointed out, bringing his friend back to reality. "I doubt the Cheetah Girls are exactly lining up to date a Gastro-nerd like you, all things considered."


    "Interplanetary, TimeWizard, Magical Gastro-nerd, thank you very much," Ignis retorted, puffing out his chest in a vain attempt to appear larger. "I am sure many ladies would be interested in that sort of thing."


    Evolon pondered this for a moment. "Now that I think of it, I do have a redhead friend that you might like. She''s had the worst luck with men. The last one actually took her tax refund and her cat on Valentine''s Day."


    "What''s her name?" Ignis asked eagerly.


    "Roxy," Evolon replied mysteriously.


    "I like it. What''s her number? I''ll put it in my phone and give her a call when we get back home," Ignis said, already pulling out his phone and tapping away at the screen.


    With a thoughtful expression, Pierce pulled his own cell phone from his inventory. The battery indicator showed 76%. He glanced at the floating orbs illuminating the street and inscribed a single rune onto the back of the phone. Suddenly, the phone vibrated, and the "Plugged in" symbol appeared next to the battery indicator, now displaying 77%.


    "Well, I think I just solved our energy problem back on Earth," Pierce announced, displaying the phone to the group.


    "Would never work," Grok stated definitively.


    "Why not?" Ignis asked, gesturing for Pierce to enchant his own phone as well.


    "These stones use ambient mana to produce light," Grok explained. "While Jusburnaxium''s mana density is sufficient for magic items like this to be abundant, Earth''s mana density is incredibly low. A device like that would need to store mana for years to power itself for even a few seconds. It''s similar to how a person without Cadium cannot store enough mana to cast a spell within their lifetime, but bring them here, and one or two small spells per day are possible."


    "That name is too long," Flint declared, slamming his empty copper wood tankard on the bar for the sixth time. "I am calling this Planet JuiceBox! But enough talkie talkie, I was promised an Arena. I WANT TO BASH SOME SKULLS!"


    "How much do we owe?" Pierce asked the busy bartender who was frantically running back and forth serving the crowd.


    "Your party drinks free. The lady sings a mighty tune," the Bartender barked over his shoulder.


    "Good enough for me!" Flint exclaimed, pushing his way through the boisterous crowd towards the exit to the street.


    "I guess we must follow," Grok said, leaving the bar.


    "If nothing else, to keep him from proposing to some pretty Orcish Lady," Pierce muttered, tipping the bartender a gold coin before following the others.


    The group managed to make their way to the Arena without further incident, much to Pierce''s amazement. After presenting their Adventurers Guild badges, they were led to a set of private boxes midway up the arena, between the first and second levels of stands overlooking a large oval space filled with red sand. On the sand, three fierce-looking Orcs were engaged in a desperate battle against a massive bear, its fur bristling with long, bony needles that resembled a porcupine.


    The Orcs were already dripping with blood from hundreds of tiny punctures. They were spread out in a triangular formation, using their spears and shields to bash the bear in the face before attempting to stab at its vulnerable underbelly. One of the Orcs, throwing caution to the wind, charged in for a powerful stab at the bear''s exposed neck, but the beast retaliated with a vicious swipe, tearing open the Orc''s chest exploding with blood. The Orc crumpled to the ground, defeated.


    "So how does this all work?" Flint asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.


    "Warriors volunteer to fight there," Grok explained, pointing to a single stone arch where an Orc stood guard. "Bets are made there," she continued, gesturing towards multiple arches with long lines and a board displaying constantly updating odds and payouts that the humans couldn''t decipher.


    "What are they betting on?" Pierce asked, listening to the roar of the crowd as they cheered on the remaining Orcs in their bloody struggle against the monstrous beast.


    "Who lives, who dies, first blood, really anything can be bet on. Odds are given, you pay. If you''re lucky, you return later and collect your winnings," Grok explained, as if speaking to a child.


    "What are the odds normally like for a first timer?" Pierce inquired.


    "Depends on the first timer," Grok replied. "Fierce-looking warriors usually start off well, then the odds adjust based on their skill."


    "Wish me luck, boys!" Flint declared, already standing and heading towards the registration arch.


    "Should we go with him?" Ignis asked, his face paling slightly.


    "No, this will be good for him. He should survive," Grok said confidently.


    "Should?" Pierce echoed, his concern evident.


    "Cadium users rarely die, but it happens," Grok shrugged, cheering on the final Orc as it valiantly fought off the bear. With a final, desperate lunge, the Orc flipped the bear onto its back and slashed its spear across the beast''s belly, spilling its innards onto the red sand.


    "If he dies, dibs on his Cadium!" Ignis exclaimed, cheering with the rest of the crowd.


    Pierce stood, walked to the closest betting window and, with a nervous gulp, placed all 16 gold left in his pouch on Thor to win. His bet was registered with his Adventurers Guild badge and he was soon sitting beside his friends, watching with bated breath as a single powerful Orc went to battle against a thin black cat that could turn itself invisible for short periods of time.

 The Crusher reigns supreme!

    Chapter 22


    "Do I need to go down there and heal him between rounds?" Pierce asked Grok, concern etched on his face.


    "There are healers on staff who will take care of him," Grok assured him. "In most cases, they are fast enough to save a combatant from death. Being a single combatant helps, as the fight would continue if one member of a team died, and the rest continued. But in a solo match, the fight can be stopped, and healing magic applied quickly." Grok explained, his gaze fixed on the fierce Orc below who was battling a large, avian creature. The bird utilized wind magic, creating a whirlwind of feathers and air currents that made it incredibly difficult to hit with ranged attacks.


    "That''s a relief, I guess. All I''ve seen are beasts. Do they have sentient battles?" Pierce inquired.


    "On occasion, there are tournaments where death disqualifies the offending combatant," Grok explained, "but Dunblag''s main export is live beasts, so here we use what we have." The Orc below took a particularly vicious wind attack to the legs, sending him tumbling across the sand, a cloud of red dust erupting with each impact.


    "You being a Beastmaster and all, do you have an instinctive insight into a beast''s capabilities, or is it something you have learned?" Pierce continued his questioning while the group enjoyed a brief respite.


    "Most experienced fighters have some idea of what a beast can do," Grok acknowledged, "but you are correct, beastmasters seem to have a much more tangible understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of monsters. Take this bird, for example. You can easily see it uses wind for attacks, but I knew it before the first attack was launched. I also knew that physical attacks were its bane, if you could land them. I can also discern weaknesses that others often miss. Much of it is learned through study, of course, but there are so many beasts in the wild, only a fraction of which are documented. Through crossbreeding, naturally, new variants and skill combinations are constantly emerging." Grok observed as the Orc, playing dead, lured the bird closer. The creature landed cautiously, pecking at the Orc''s seemingly lifeless form. In a sudden, explosive movement, the Orc sprang to his feet, landing a devastating punch to the large bird''s chest. The bird crumpled to the sand, lifeless. The fight was over.


    "Would it be within the rules to share that information over the group chat for Flint to hear?" Pierce asked the Orc.


    With a grin, Grok nodded. "There is a spell barrier around the battlefield, but it is often weak to telepathic spells. Communication spells fall within this field and are quite difficult to detect. Information is not seen as a weapon, and most seasoned warriors in the Arena would rarely be caught off guard by a beast''s abilities like young Flint here would. I will agree to this, but we must keep the communication brief and sparse to remain undetected."


    An announcer, an imposing Orc with a long grey robe, strode out to the center of the Red Sands.


    "Citizens of Dunblag, Warriors, Men, Women, and Sentients of all types and sizes, give a hearty round of applause for Krablock the brawler!" The charismatic Orc announced, pausing for the cacophony of cheers to subside. "Our next round of battles features a fresh combatant never before seen here in the Red Sands. Hailing from a planet called Azgard, we have THOR THE CRUSHER!" The Orc lifted one arm towards the side entrance of the oval, where a short, powerfully built human with a long red beard emerged, surveying the crowd with a look of astonishment.


    "Thor, you will be given three increasingly challenging battles to prove yourself. Your options are to yield, defeat the enemies, or die. Upon yielding, you may not enter the Red Sands for at least one month, and upon dying, one year. If you are found to be unconscious and require healing, that is ruled as yielding. If you requested a revive when registering, upon death, you are charged 100 gold for the ritual. Do you agree to these terms before these witnesses?" The Orc inquired with a wave of seriousness.


    "OOH YEAH! The Crusher is here! Feel the ground tremble! I''m gonna smash, bash, and gash my way to victory! The crowd is gonna dig it!" Flint boomed, his voice echoing through the arena in a dramatic imitation of Macho Man Randy Savage.


    The announcer, clearly taken aback by the human''s boisterous introduction, quickly regained his composure. "Do you feel prepared for your first opponent, a deadly Whispering Bloom?" he asked.


    "Whispering Bloom? More like Whispering Doom! I''m gonna crush it like garlic! This ain''t no garden party!" Flint declared, waving his hands in a theatrical manner, inciting the crowd to cheer even louder.


    The Orcish announcer, realizing this was not going to be a typical round, quickly exited the sand through the same side door Thor had entered.


    "Whispering Bloom uses light wind magic to blow their pollen at enemies, which enchants their prey into becoming docile, then follow up with vines to crush and eat said prey. They are strong against earth, water, and wind magic, but weak to fire, ice, and acidic magic. Stronger wind spells can also be used to redirect their pollen." Grok explained over the mental chat, though Flint seemed oblivious, caught up in the roar of the crowd.


    A door on the long side of the oval creaked open, but no beast emerged. Flint, sensing the tension, remained vigilant, his hammer poised. Suddenly, a probing attack struck from directly in front of him. A green, barbed vine shot from the sand, narrowly missing his legs and disappearing back into the ground before he could react. At the same time, a six-foot-tall blue flower erupted from the sand directly behind him, releasing a cloud of yellow dust into the air. Flint, unfazed, calmly turned to face the flower, a mischievous glint in his eye. He raised his hand and cast a spell, a faint yellow aura shimmering around his body. Then, with a confident grin, he calmly motioned to the crowd to cheer him on, ignoring the incoming cloud of pollen. Soon after he is surrounded by yellow pollen dust that seemingly has no effect on him, at the same time his large hammer disappears, a smaller crude smithy hammer appearing in his hand is hurled powerfully at the plant, landing a glancing blow with enough force to spin the flower around twice dazing the plant beast. As soon as the small hammer left his hand Flint summons his normal hammer and charges at the plant, rearing back and landing a devastating blow on the center of the flower crushing it flat, with a trickle of flames and ice intertwined flowing through the internals of the beast, slaying it instantly into a small pile of frozen ash. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "And the winner, by a stunning defeat, is the THOR THE CRUSHER!" the announcer roared, his voice echoing through the reverberating arena as he walked towards Thor.


    "OOH YEAH! The Crusher reigns supreme! That wasn''t even a snack! I''m still hungry! Who''s next on the menu?!" Flint boomed, playing to the delirious crowd, flexing his muscles and flashing a mischievous grin.


    The announcer''s face made a dramatic shift. "Indeed, the Crusher has proven his dominance! Your power is undeniable." He paused, a serious tone creeping into his voice. "Next up, facing the mighty Crusher, a creature of shadows and stealth, the Shadow Stalker! Tell me, how do you think you''ll stack up against such a cunning opponent?"


    "Shadow Stalker? He''s gonna disappear faster than a fart in a storm! I''m gonna find him, and I''m gonna crush him! OOH YEAH!" Flint declared, his voice booming with confidence. He then proceeded to demonstrate his hunting prowess, slowly circling the arena, swinging his hammer in wide arcs, sending sprays of sand flying with each powerful swing as the crowd roared in approval.


    The announcer, seemingly overwhelmed by Flint''s display, simply nodded and exited the arena through a side door.


    "Be careful, Shadow Stalkers are pack hunters," Grok cautioned over the mental chat. "The announcer is trying to trick you into believing it is a single foe, but there are at least two, as many as four. They are completely invisible, leaving no trace in the sand, and emitting no discernible scent. Their defense, however, is laughable. They die with a single well-placed hit, but their brethren use that momentary distraction to attack simultaneously, hoping to overwhelm their prey with numbers and sneak attacks."


    Flint, taking his position in the center of the arena, faced the door where the Whispering Bloom had emerged, his senses heightened. He heard a faint whisper of movement behind him and spun around, his hammer raised defensively. The other door at the far end of the oval creaked open, but nothing emerged.


    Refreshed his shield spell, Flint stood alert, his hammer held above him with two hands, shield slung across his back. Suddenly, a scraping sensation brushed against his armor, the metal absorbing the impact of an unseen blow. He instantly repositioned his hammer, swinging to the right, but found nothing. Changing tactics, Flint grabbed his shield and made a series of feinting movements, pivoting and shifting his weight, testing the air for any sign of the invisible predators.


    Then, with a chilling speed, a black, panther-like creature materialized beside him, its claws raking across his armor. Flint reacted with lightning speed, swinging his shield with incredible force. The Shadow Stalker was sent flying back, its skull exploding in a shower of gore upon impact. A concussive force, amplified by Flint''s own shockwave spell, erupted outwards, knocking the two remaining Shadow Stalkers off their feet. Approaching the two stunned beasts, Flint used one single swing of his hammer each to end their lives in a shower of blood and gore. Flint, covered in a fine mist of blood and feline remains, surveyed the scene with a triumphant grin.


    To the cacophony of cheers, Flint stowed his hammer and shield, wiping the blood from his face with a flourish. "OOH YEAH! The Crusher reigns supreme! Those shadows thought they could hide from me? Hah! I crushed them into itty bitty bits!" he roared, his voice echoing through the arena.


    "Indeed, the Crusher has proven his dominance! Your power is undeniable!" the announcer declared, walking towards the blood-soaked combatant, his voice awestruck. "But your next opponent will be your final battle of the night, a true test of your stamina surely not yielding to a single blow¡­ I present to you, the Magma Crawler!"


    "Magma Crawler? Sounds like a fancy name for a cooked lizard! I''ll crush him faster than you can burn the popcorn!" Flint declared, his voice booming through the arena, eliciting a roar of approval from the crowd.


    "Magma Crawler is an armored fire-breathing lizard," Grok explained over the mental chat. "Extremely hard to defeat. Your hammer might not be the most effective weapon against its thick hide, and I don''t think I have to tell you to prepare for flames."


    Chants of "THOR! THOR! THOR!" erupted as the final door at the far end of the arena swung open. A fearsome sight awaited him: a massive, twenty-foot-long lizard, resembling a monstrous cross between a horny toad and an armadillo, emerged. It stood five feet tall at the shoulder, its scales shimmering with an inner heat. A torrent of flame erupted from its maw, engulfing the area in a wave of searing heat.


    "You picked the wrong guy to mess with," Flint roared, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I''ve been forged in the flame all my life!" He added his leather metalsmith''s apron, gloves, and helmet, protecting himself from flames. With a confident stride, he approached the Magma Crawler, shield raised and hammer poised.


    The lizard, sensing its prey, lunged forward with surprising speed. Its jaws, lined with razor-sharp teeth, snapped shut on Flint''s shield with a deafening clang. Undeterred, he unleashed a powerful hammer blow against the side of the lizard''s armored head. The creature, seemingly unfazed, spat out the shield, a torrent of flames erupting from its mouth, engulfing Flint in a wall of fire.


    But Flint was prepared. He had anticipated the attack, his armor absorbing the initial heat. With a roar, he pivoted, swinging his hammer with the force of a thunderbolt. The pickaxe end of the hammer found its mark, piercing the thick armor plates and shattering the skull beneath. A wave of crushing force, infused with ice and fire magic, surged through the creature, instantly liquifying its internal organs. The Magma Crawler, once a fearsome beast, now stood frozen in a grotesque, icy statue.


    "And the winner, by a chilling defeat, is the THOR THE CRUSHER!" the announcer roared, his voice echoing through the reverberating arena as he walked towards Flint.


    ¡°The Crusher reigns supreme! You could say I gave him the cold shoulder!¡± Flint says, working the crowd, motioning to his ear in each of the four directions as if they are not cheering loud enough.


    "You certainly gave him a frosty reception!" the announcer exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are done for the day, Crusher. You''ve earned a well-deserved rest, but I have to ask, will you be returning to the Red Sands?"


    "Rest? I''m just getting warmed up!" Flint declared. "But if the crowd wants a break, I suppose the Crusher can cool off for a bit. But mark my words, I''ll be back! And I''ll be ready to crush anything that dares to stand in my way!" Flint declared, arms outstretched, basking in the thunderous cheers of the crowd.

 QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!!!!

    Chapter 22


    Pierce excused himself from the boisterous celebration and strode towards the betting window, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. He presented his winning ticket to the elderly Orcish woman behind the counter. Her eyes widened as she scanned the slip, a flicker of avarice quickly masked by a professional smile.


    "Oh, ye got lucky on the parlay!" she rasped, her voice a gravelly whisper. "Sixteen gold turns into nine hundred fifty-five, minus clan taxes, of course. Here''s nine hundred twenty-five gold, and may the luck always follow ye."


    Pierce accepted the hefty pouch, its weight a satisfying confirmation of their victory. He deftly transferred most of the gold into his inventory, leaving five gleaming coins on the counter. "May luck also follow you" he quipped, a playful wink accompanying his words.


    The Orcish woman chuckled, snatching up the tip with surprising agility. "Indeed it has," she cackled, her eyes twinkling with amusement.


    Meanwhile, Grok''s voice echoed in their minds through their telepathic bond. ¡°We should meet Flint at the locker room exit,¡± she suggested.


    "I hope this doesn''t go to his head," Ignis muttered to the group as they navigated the thinning crowd, descending a flight of worn stone steps towards an unremarkable door flanked by weathered benches. "The fool is already full of himself."


    A few minutes later, the door burst open, and Flint emerged, arms raised in triumph. "WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIENDS!" he bellowed, his off-key singing voice echoing down the hallway. "AND WE''LL KEEP ON FIGHTING ''TIL THE END!"


    The few remaining onlookers, however, seemed utterly indifferent to his boisterous display.


    Grok, sensing Flint''s disappointment, offered a gentle explanation. "Dunblag cheers for the combatant in the arena, not on the street," she said. "Could you imagine a city full of wannabe celebrities using their fame for their own gain? The cheers of the crowd and honor in your heart are reason enough to join the games."


    "Don''t forget the coin in your purse from the betting!" Pierce added with a grin.


    Flint''s frown quickly dissolved into a sly smile. "Exactly how much did you fleece them for?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.


    "Just over nine hundred gold," Pierce replied, handing Flint a hundred gold coins. "And to think I was down to my last sixteen before tonight." He then distributed fifty gold to each of the other party members.


    "I need an ale and a bed," Flint declared, stretching his powerful arms. "The raw emotions out on the Red Sands sapped all the strength out of me."


    "You''ve had enough ale for one day," Evolon retorted, playfully punching him on the arm. "You charged drunk into solo battle with things I''ll have nightmares about for weeks."


    The group set off towards their hideout, their conversation a lively recap of the evening''s events. They dissected Flint''s tactics, his thought processes, and his eventual triumph. Even Grok, usually reserved, was engrossed in the discussion. Suddenly, a prickle of unease ran down her spine, her Orcish senses warning her of something amiss.


    They were passing a well-lit alleyway, about a mile from the arena, when they noticed a man retching violently against a wall. As they gave him a wide berth, a small Orcish child darted from the shadows, deftly slicing Evolon''s belt pouch and disappearing into the darkness. Grok and Pierce, at the back of the group, simultaneously noticed the theft and gave chase, alerting the others.


    "Cutpurse!" Pierce shouted, a hint of amusement in his voice.


    ¡°You know, this is my first real-life cutpurse,¡± he added through their mental link. ¡°This could be fun!¡±


    ¡°That pouch was literally just rocks I was going to knap for arrowheads,¡± Evolon grumbled in response. ¡°It''s worthless.¡±


    The alleyway, a narrow chasm between towering buildings, echoed with the sound of their pursuit. As they rounded a sharp corner, they found themselves confronted by a group of ten burly Orcs, their faces obscured by crude masks, their hands wielding an assortment of makeshift weapons. The leader, a hulking brute with a gruesome scar bisecting his face, stepped forward, his voice a guttural growl.


    "Well, well," he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Looks like we have some unexpected guests for our little gathering." Ten more Orcs emerged from the shadows, effectively blocking their escape. "Do you smell that, boys?" the leader growled, his nostrils flaring. "I smell gold, and Cadium..."


    "QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!!!!" Flint erupted, the sudden outburst momentarily halting the Orcs in their tracks. Using the distraction to their advantage the group swiftly retrieved their weapons, preparing for a fight.


    The Orcs froze, their leader staring in bewildered shock. After a moment, he regained his composure and attempted to continue his menacing monologue. "We are the local Tax Collection Agency," he began.


    "QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!!!!" Flint repeated, his voice even louder this time. The leader''s green skin deepened to an almost sickly hue.


    "Fine, I guess¡ª" the leader started again.


    "QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK!!!!" Flint''s triumphant quacking cut him off once more.


    "ATTACK!" the leader roared in frustration, raising his rusty, broken-tipped sword.


    But before any of the other Orcs could move, time seemed to freeze. Ignis, utilizing his innate temporal magic, had stopped the flow of time for everyone but the party.


    Evolon seized the opportunity, loosing arrows at the immobile Orcs, her aim precise and deadly. She moved in a methodical circle, picking off targets one by one, working her way towards Ignis, who was doing the same on his side.


    Ignis, after initiating the time stop, unleashed a torrent of fire upon the Orcs within his reach. Flames erupted, casting flickering shadows that danced across the alley walls.


    Flint, leaped forward, targeting the frozen leader. With a powerful swing of his hammer, he shattered the Orc''s knee, following up with a shield bash that crushed his nose. He knew from countless battles at the gaming table that Pierce preferred to keep enemies alive for interrogation, but a crippled leader was effectively removed from the fight. He spun around, noting that Pierce had already cast protective spells and healing magic on the group, while Grok had already dispatched two Orcs, their heads rolling on the cobblestones.


    As the time stop ended, the Orc leader looked up at his five assailants, his face contorted in pain and disbelief. He spat a mouthful of blood, the glob landing harmlessly on the ground.


    "Well met, friend," Pierce said calmly, brushing a speck of dust from his robes. "Now tell me, where exactly did you hear of our good fortune and Cadium?"


    "Kill me already," the Orc growled defiantly. "My death will feed my clan''s bellies for a month!"


    "Not having twenty warriors to feed always helps with food distribution," Grok countered with a hint of pity in her voice. "But then again, fewer warriors to gather resources is never good."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What we can do," Pierce interjected, a chilling smile spreading across his face, "I promise it will last longer and hurt more than you can ever imagine. You see, I am a healer. I could have my Orcish friend here gut you like a fish, and just before death claims you, I heal you to be completely whole, before starting the whole process over again. Let''s not waste anyone''s time. Answer the question." He punctuated his words by magically healing the Orc''s wounds.


    The Orc''s eyes widened in terror. "Neesha," he gasped, "the teller at the arena. She wanted me to tell you before you died that one percent is the customary tip. Your measly five gold was given to me, and I was to keep half of what my men ripped from your bodies. The Cadium, though, was to be added to the auction later this week."


    "Was Gustavo a part of this plot?" Evolon asked, before catching herself and taking a step back. Her past interrogations had tended towards the excessively enthusiastic, and she was now under strict instructions to leave the questioning to Pierce.


    "That slimy merchant knows nothing," the Orc spat. "Half the city is adding things to the auction as long as he gets his cut. He doesn''t care who joins. After the auction, we were to do the same with him. He has far too many powerful enemies to throw his weight around with godly magical items in the balance. Those items, the gold, and the glory belong to Clan Zotto, not a swindling pirate like him!"


    "This is all normal back-alley dealings when a fortune is made betting in the arena or gambling halls," Grok observed. "It doesn''t smell of a larger plot against The Donner Party."


    "The strong take from the weak," the Orc leader declared, his voice flat, reciting a familiar mantra. "This has always been our way."


    "Thank you for your permission," Flint said with a grim smile, swinging his hammer down onto the Orc''s head, ending the conversation ¨C and the Orc''s life ¨C with a sickening thud.


    "Loot up," Pierce''s voice echoed in their minds, a touch of fatigue coloring his telepathic message. "I want to be in a hot shower in ten minutes, and asleep just after."


    Six gold richer, and with a few minor enchanted trinkets added to their inventory, the group emerged from the grim alleyway. Behind them, Ignis unleashed a concentrated inferno, reducing the pile of Orcish corpses to ash. The cobblestones glowed orange in the aftermath, erasing any evidence of the violence that had transpired. With renewed vigilance, they made their way back to the hideout, their senses alert for any sign of pursuit. After a hasty meal and a long, steaming shower, Pierce collapsed onto his bed, the absurdity of the day swirling in his mind. His nightly ritual of introspection commenced, his thoughts replaying the battle, analyzing his actions, and searching for ways to improve.


    He awoke to the comforting sizzle of bacon. Pushing aside the warm covers, he pulled on his boots and breastplate, then shrugged on his spellcasting robe. He stumbled towards the dining area, where a plate laden with bacon, eggs, and toast awaited him, accompanied by a steaming mug of black coffee.


    "Have I told you lately that I love you?" Pierce declared, grinning at the ever-cheerful Ignis, who was busy at the camp stove, expertly flipping eggs.


    "That''s nice and all," the lanky man replied with a wink, "but I fancy the ladies."


    "With all their whining and drama? No thanks," Evolon chimed in, mopping up the last of the yolk on her plate with a piece of toast.


    "The lady makes a good argument..." Flint boomed from across the room, striding towards the table clad only in his boxer briefs. "...but then again... boobs."


    "So, we''ve confirmed that everyone at the table besides Grok is heterosexual," Evolon mused, her tone light and conversational. "And I''m still not sure if she''s kidding or not. But the real question is, do you swing zeno?" The question, once a theoretical discussion, now held a real possibility in this world of diverse species.


    Pierce paused, considering the implications. "If she''s cute and has human-like features," he finally concluded, "I don''t see why not give it a shot."


    "Also, must not have any praying mantis or black widow cultural issues either," Flint added through a mouthful of bacon, a stray crumb escaping his lips and landing on his beard.


    "Oh, I almost forgot," Ignis interjected. "They also need to have lady parts where lady parts should be. I''m adventurous and all, but there''s a line I''m not willing to cross."


    Grok, who had been quietly sipping her coffee, finally spoke. "Humans are strange. If Grok wants to mate, Grok just grabs mate and gets what she needs before leaving."


    "Hey now, consent is not optional," Evolon interjected, her eyes wide with surprise.


    "Oh, you misunderstand," Grok explained patiently. "If a mate does not want it, they just have to say so. Otherwise, consent is implied."


    "That''s quite progressive of you," Pierce remarked, nodding at the Orc. "The whole ''strong taking what they want from the weak'' culture seems to have its limits."


    "My people are fierce warriors, not monsters," Grok replied with a hint of pride. "There is no honor in that."


    Eager to shift the conversation away from Orcish mating rituals, Evolon quickly changed the subject. "So, what''s on the agenda for today?"


    "I''m going to stay here and work on the pile of enchanted gear," Pierce announced, finishing his breakfast and draining his coffee. "Hoping to get a few utility enchantment skills and maybe some spells out of it."


    "I spoke to a Master Smith in the arena locker room," Flint declared with a beaming smile, remnants of his breakfast adorning his beard. "He was trying to sell me a dead man''s armor. Agreed that if I lived until today, he''d take me under his wing and show me some of his Orcish techniques at his forge." He puffed out his chest, clearly proud of his accomplishment.


    Ignis, ever the culinary enthusiast, placed a flyer on the table. It depicted a series of images illustrating a blind taste test, cleverly designed for those who couldn''t read the Orcish script. "I would like to go to this," he announced, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.


    "Now that you have gold, I see the wisdom in attending the Chef''s Table," Grok said, nodding her approval. "I will join you, if you will go to the apothecary with me afterwards. I need more powerful ingredients for my potions."


    "That would be agreeable," Ignis replied, meticulously cleaning the frying pan before returning it to his inventory.


    "Well, I''m not standing around some hot, loud forge all day watching Flint bang on his metal," Evolon declared, wrinkling her nose. "Grok, are there any bathhouses here in the city? I need a little pampering."


    "Yes," Grok replied, her face suddenly clouding over. "Just stay away from anything with the word ''eel'' in it. Eel sandwiches, eel baths, eel enemas... just say no to eels."


    "Duly noted," Evolon said, her eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and disgust.


    "You know," Flint chimed in, sensing an opportunity, "my smithy friend has a leatherworking partner in the adjoining stall. Maybe you could learn how to tan and work leather from the beasties we slay into proper armor?"


    Evolon''s eyes lit up. "Okay," she agreed, "but after lunchtime, you have to go to the bathhouse with me for mani-pedis!"


    "I''ll go for a mud bath," Flint conceded, "but I''ll die before I let them touch my feet. Never again!"


    Pierce chuckled, recalling a previous incident. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Last time, you paid the lady fifty dollars to stop the foot scrub before barging out of the nail parlor barefoot."


    "Whose great idea was it to let those devil women scrape coral across the bottom of someone''s foot?" Flint barked indignantly.


    Evolon, overcome with laughter, managed to sputter, "Post-ride pampering was my idea, I admit. But how was I to know our tough, manly Flint, warrior with nerves of steel, would be so ticklish?"


    "It''s not natural, I tell ya," Flint grumbled. "Only socks and boots should touch a man''s feet!"


    "Okay, we''re good with buddy pairs," Pierce declared, rising from the table. "Just keep your eyes out for trouble after last night''s bonfire party. I''ll stay in and get some work done. If anyone runs into trouble, just call over the mental chat."


    Flint and Evolon exited the hideout, heading left, while Ignis and Grok departed to the right, carefully sealing the hidden door behind them. Pierce was alone, surrounded by the spoils of their recent adventures.


    He picked up a small, enchanted stone, turning it over in his hands, his gaze intense. Subtle runes, magically etched into the surface, began to reveal themselves.


    ¡°New Enchantment: Lightsource - Enchant an item to emit light as long as enough mana to power it is available,¡± a message appeared in his mind, confirming his success.


    "Now to see if I can make it a spell," he muttered to himself, focusing his will on the enchantment, attempting to transfer its essence to the air around him.


    ¡°New Spell acquired: Light - Create light from mana,¡± another message declared.


    He reread the message, puzzled by its vagueness. Then, as he looked at the small orb of light hovering before him, he realized he could mentally control its intensity. He experimented, dimming it until it was barely visible, then increasing its brilliance until it rivaled the sun, forcing him to avert his gaze. Intense heat radiated from the orb at its maximum setting, prompting him to quickly lower the intensity.


    Not content with merely controlling brightness, he began to manipulate the orb''s shape, stretching it into a long, thin line, like a spotlight. Then, with a playful flourish, he thinned it further, transforming it into a ten-foot laser beam, no thicker than a human hair. He increased the intensity again, but this time, there was no accompanying heat. With a mischievous grin, he mentally directed the beam, slicing through a nearby training dummy with effortless precision.


    "NO! I AM YOUR FATHER!" he proclaimed in a mock-villainous voice, bisecting two more dummies before snapping out of his reverie and dispelling the spell.


    "Let''s see what else I can get out of this pile of junk," he said with a wry smile, reaching for the next enchanted item.

 Molecules? Whoever heard of such a thing?

    Chapter 23


    ¡°I hope this Orc Smithy can actually teach me something. I''ve been working under masters back on Earth since I was a wee lad. Our last name isn''t Smith for nothing, you know. My father was a steelworker for Jerry Jones''s Oil company in Tulsa back in the 70s, Grandfather a metallurgist for Ford Motor Company, Great Grandfather built locomotives, and Great Great Grandfather made horse-drawn carriages. Go back far enough, and we forged guns and cannons that decided who owned half the world. Before that, we were making arms and armor for the British, and Romans before that. What I''m getting at here is we have iron in our blood, and the forge in our hearts. I''m always willing to learn, but I''m afraid of what I''ll have to unlearn to progress forward," Flint told Evolon as they walked through the bustling morning streets of Dunblag.


    "Magic makes the impossible possible. The best engineers are able to adapt to new materials that sometimes have impossible properties compared to what came before. My advice is to remove the word ''impossible'' from your vocabulary, embrace what you see, try to understand it, only then can you apply it, and possibly improve and innovate with it," Evolon said as if she were training a new engineer back at her outdoor equipment company.


    "Easier said than done. Someone says the sky¡¯s purple, and your first instinct is to argue with them, but with magic and strange planets, the sky might actually be purple," Flint laughed.


    "Not to mention an alien might see at different wavelengths, making what seems like blue to us, purple to them. From each point of view, both could be right, so arguing would be useless," Evolon mused at the absurdity of the situation she and her group of friends found themselves in.


    The pair stopped at a large intersection, waiting for a herd of brown animals to move down the street and into the bottom floor of a skyscraper a block away. The large animals looked like cattle-sized capybaras with large, smooth faces and thick, bristly brown hair. Directly in front of Evolon, one of the beasts paused and deposited a fresh line of softball-sized dung pellets. After the herd passed down the street, being directed by several reptile-like dog animals, three Orcs followed behind, scooping up the pellets and tossing them into a cart that was moving slowly forward without an animal pulling it.


    "You know, there are so many things about this place I don''t understand. They use magic to pull the cart, but manpower, or I guess Orcpower, to pick up the smelly bits," Evolon mused as the pair continued towards the Forge district in the distance.


    "Jobs. Could you imagine the chaos if magic did everything unskilled laborers could do? Back home, we''re facing the same issues. Powerful corporations pushing for automation in their shortsighted greed. Companies that still use skilled artisans become small boutiques where only the wealthy from the powerful corporations can afford the handmade items. Look at Herm¨¨s, Rolex, Japanese chef''s knives, Solovair boots that once made Doc Martens, now make handmade boots that look much the same after Doc Marten moved production to mass-production factories where a few employees make pennies. I''d rather be in a world that rewards artisans over profits," Flint finished his diatribe as they entered an 80-foot square stone building with several open arches around each side.


    Entering the smithy, Evolon could hear several working bellows and hundreds of clanging hammers. But there was obviously some sound magic lowering the volume of the work around them to a level they could easily talk over. The smell of coal, the heat of the fire, and a cool breeze entering from all directions could be felt as the bellows pumped air into a central forge and up a chimney composed of more stone arches, where each smith worked. Smiths opened their metal doors, placing metal in the forge, where it melted into molds or was retrieved on long metal rods to be hammered just steps away from the glowing coals.


    Flint approached a middle-aged, strong Orc in a leather apron hammering away at a glowing red piece of metal and waited for the smith''s current task to be complete before interrupting.


    ¡°Hail and well met, Ongor, Master Smith of the Zotto Clan,¡± Flint said with a small bow.


    ¡°Hail and well met, Thor of the Red Sands. I see you survived the Arena,¡± Ongor said with a small bow before placing the metal he was hammering back into the forge, its long metal handle sticking out of an opening in the bottom of the forge door.


    ¡°I have come to learn under the esteemed Master Smith, and my companion here would like to do the same with your leatherworkers,¡± Flint said as he retrieved his leather apron, gloves, and smithing helmet from his inventory.


    ¡°My mate, Bethril, makes the soft leather padding for my armor and leather grips for my weapons. While she is no master, I am sure she could use a set of strong hands for the day,¡± Ongor said, sizing up Evolon with a glare.


    ¡°Your generosity brings honor to Clan Zotto and will be rewarded in this life or the next,¡± Flint said, setting a pouch of 10 gold on Ongor''s workbench.


    ¡°This is acceptable. I rose early this morning to make up for the losses of betting you would die in the second round. Maybe today will turn my misjudgment into fortune,¡± Ongor said with a slight smile.


    ¡°Later, MC Hammer,¡± Evolon said over her shoulder as she walked through one of the arches of the forge building, directly into the adjacent building where dozens of female Orcs of all ages were working. Among the crowd, one Orc woman about Ongor''s age stood out. She would stop hand-sewing two pieces of finished leather together every few seconds, looking towards the smithy with an angry sneer and muttering words under her breath. Approaching the woman, Evolon took a closer look, appreciating the beautiful Orc beneath the leather apron. She reminded Evolon of Gamora, with her pale green, curvaceous body and delicate facial features. The way she expressed her anger at her mate also reminded her of how the famous Guardian of the Galaxy would often fight with hers, even though it came from a place of love.


    ¡°I''m guessing you are Bethril,¡± Evolon asked before remembering the group were still in incognito mode, using aliases to hide their involvement with the auction in a few days. ¡°I am Arrow. I am here to learn tanning and leatherworking, if you would be so kind as to teach me,¡± Evolon said with a small bow, echoing Flint''s introduction earlier.


    ¡°Did that Pak Tuk Ongor send you here to sabotage our family into more debt, or are you how he is to repay his losses? You don''t look like you would live through a round bedding even the mildest of Orcs,¡± Bethril spat, pulling two long needles through the leather stitching in opposite directions before tying a simple knot and performing the stitch on the next hole in the leather.


    ¡°A debt is owed. Your time and instruction is all I require. I am a warrior, not a bed maiden,¡± Evolon said with a glare.


    ¡°We sweat, we bleed, and he bets it away at the Sands,¡± Bethril growled between stitches. ¡°But we honor our word. I will teach you, Arrow the Warrior,¡± she said, tying off the thread one final time, unclamping her legs from the leather piece with soft, plush leather on one side and thick, tough leather on the other.


    ¡°Come, let''s see if your brain is as unimpressive as your arms,¡± Bethril said, massaging a waxy substance on both sides of the new armor piece, rubbing it into the leather with a practiced motion.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Evolon handed the woman a small pouch of 10 gold, saying, ¡°To pay for your time and materials I may destroy while learning.¡±


    ¡°This is the tannery. First, we take the rough skins the warriors bring us and delicately remove any fat, dirt, blood, meat, or other unneeded parts through scraping and soaking with these special scraping knives. You try, just like the three young ones here,¡± Bethril said, handing Evolon a rounded knife.


    Evolon first observed the young girls before attempting to clean the hide herself. Near one edge, she placed too much pressure, tearing through the hide and creating a hole before correcting her movements, quickly burning the process into muscle memory, easily repeatable for her magical strength.


    ¡°Now bring the cleaned hide to the baths,¡± Bethril motioned Evolon to the next area, where several slightly older Orcs than the last group were dunking cleaned hides in a liquid several times before setting them on a wet pile near the copperwood trough.


    Evolon easily dunked the leather, waving it under the surface, mimicking the young Orcs. One of them gave her a little giggle before looking up at Bethril and pointedly ignoring the human.


    ¡°Next, we salt the hide, press, dry, and repeat the process two more times.¡± Bethril showed Evolon how to toss a handful of salt and another white powder onto the hide, then run the hide through a set of hand-cranked rollers to press out all the liquid. Next, Bethril had Evolon pass a fist-sized stone over each side of the hide in a sweeping pattern, quickly drying the hide before repeating the dunking, salting, pressing, and drying process two more times.


    ¡°Now for tanning. While you rub this into the hide, trickle your mana through your hand into the hide,¡± Bethril said as Evolon watched several teenage Orc women around a large table move handfuls of wet, spongy material over their hides while focusing intently on the process.


    Evolon approached her workstation and picked up a strange, oily, dodgeball-sized piece of pink sponge and started working it across her hide while focusing on her mana. Slowly, she let a trickle flow down her arms, into her hands, through the sponge, and into the hide. Slowly, she worked her way up to a volume of mana that felt right and moved the sponge in a pattern to coat the hide with a solid, thin sheet of oily liquid before flipping the hide over and repeating the process on the opposite side.


    ¡°Mana control is not horrible, but that volume of mana¡­ you use far too much and will wear yourself out in minutes, waiting a full day to work another. While the quality of the finished goods would be great, the process is not sustainable,¡± Bethril said with the tone of a seasoned instructor.


    ¡°I see, thank you for the information. What is next?¡± Evolon asked, realizing she may have blown her cover, exposing her mana pool in public.


    ¡°We dry and tan the hide two more times before the final dry, where it becomes leather ready to be worked,¡± Bethril said as Evolon repeated the process two more times.


    ¡°The leather has two sides. A tough, smooth side, and a rough, soft side. We will now reinforce the outer layer,¡± Bethril said, showing Evolon how to place long, thin, bendable quills on the soft side of her leather and infuse mana to glue the quill into place. Placing a pressed, wool-like material on top of the layer of quills, then another sheet of leather atop that, she used a pair of magically sharpened scissors to cut the leather into shape. Then, a hammer and a strange chisel to punch small holes through all the layers. Finally, following up with two needles and extremely tough thread, sewing through the small holes in both directions, tying the thread off after each stitch.


    ¡°Now for the finishing touch.¡± Bethril showed Evolon how to attach small strips of thin metal to the outside of the leather pieces, finishing up a pair of banded vambraces, which now could be inspected as usable items.


    ¡°Fine Banded Leather Vambraces - 54 armor, +5 strength, +5 dexterity, +5 wisdom.¡±


    ¡°By the gods, a critical success on your first attempt! Throwing all your mana into a single item paid off, but don''t make a habit of it. A single failure on any step ruins the piece, and you have to wait a day for the mana to regenerate, the whole time berating yourself for the mistake. Believe me, I know,¡± Bethril said, shaking her head.


    Evolon pulled up her character sheet and marveled at her defense, shooting from 38 to 92 as she placed the vambraces on her arms. She did notice the two vambraces seemed to work as a set, each only giving half the total additions to her stats. Wondering if pierce enchanting them would count as one item or two, she was brought out of her mental calculations by an angry Orc shouting at her.


    ¡°Back to the tanning room with you! Start the process over with new hides. Repetition is still useful, even with your depleted mana pool. The finished product can still be used to line a full plate bracer.¡±


    Evolon started the process over and worked her way through four more Fine Banded Leather Vambraces with little more than a look and a grunt from Bethril, placing them into her inventory before the Orc could inspect them.


    As she finished the fifth and final pair of vambraces, Evolon realized her stomach growling was getting her odd looks from the other women who had taken small breaks between each round of crafting. With a wave, Evolon walked over to the smithy to pry her friend from the forge to search for food, then onto a well-earned pampering.


    ¡°I''m telling you, the molecules are lining up and weaving a pattern! If we use a strong enough magnet, we can ensure that the pattern is strong, with interlaced lines rather than a random assortment of material, much like a woven blanket is stronger than a pressed, raw wool blanket!¡± Flint was yelling at the larger Orc while hammering metal into a long, thin shape resembling a sword. ¡°This will make for a sharper, stronger, finer edge, harder to dull, regardless of the enchantments.¡±


    ¡°Molecules? Whoever heard of such a thing? Tiny particles expanding and contracting? You talk as if the sword breathes,¡± Ongor said dismissively between hammer strokes.


    ¡°We shall see now, won''t we? Now, about these sharpening and repair enchantments, do they require the user to input mana to work, and can they break over time?¡± Flint asked the Orc, changing the subject.


    ¡°Yes, the wielder inputs mana to trigger the enchantment, then waits a set amount of time for it to complete, like baking a loaf of bread. Too much damage can break the enchantment, but that matters not, as the blade is more often than not broken at the same time,¡± Ongor said like a professor in a lecture.


    ¡°Okay, we used the same materials to make the same weapons. The only difference was I used a magnet while infusing mana into the shaping of the blade to line up the steel molecules and trap the mana between them before quenching the blade. What would you like to bet my blade is stronger than yours, my friend?¡± Flint said as he was grinding the blade of his new short sword to a razor''s edge.


    ¡°I would bet my forge on my craftsmanship over yours, but that woman would likely kick me out of the house for good, so I must decline,¡± Ongor said with a grimace on his face and a look towards the leather shop next door.


    ¡°You can''t blame me for trying, and good on you, not angering the lady anymore than you already have. She looks fiery,¡± Flint said, preparing to test his sword against the Master Smith''s.


    ¡°You have no idea. I would rather face the beasts of the wilds than her ire,¡± Ongor said, preparing for the blade clash.


    Rearing back, the two swung forward, meeting blades. Ongor''s shortsword shattered to his amazement. Inspecting the broken and the whole sword, mouth agape, Ongor bowed his head as a sign of respect. ¡°Not even a chip on the cutting edge. Magnets while infusing mana¡­ I will try this method for myself. Thank you, young Thor, master of the hammer, for teaching a humble smith this method.¡±


    ¡°Can I see that?¡± Evolon asked Flint before inspecting the sword.


    ¡°Fine Steel Shortsword - 44 damage, +5 strength, +5 dexterity, +5 wisdom.¡±


    ¡°Nice!¡± Evolon said, swinging the sword through the air before holding it back out towards Flint, handle first.


    ¡°Keep it. I made one for each member of the party, you know, for when the baddies get through bow range into slashy range,¡± Flint said with a large smile, clearly proud of his work.


    ¡°Aww, you shouldn''t have, but I also made these for you,¡± Evolon said, handing Flint a new pair of vambraces.


    ¡°It''s like Christmas morning all over again, except this is so much better than another pack of socks!¡± Flint said, sliding his hands through the bracers before pulling a strap to secure them to each forearm.


    ¡°So soft! These fit like a dream!¡± Flint said, slapping the outside of the bracers, feeling none of the force on his skin.


    ¡°Now, you promised me food and relaxation. To the Bathhouse!¡± Evolon said, taking her friend by the arm, charging down the busy street towards the east.

 We had it all, and few ever realized it.

    Chapter 24


    Ignis and Grok exited the hideout, turning right as they discussed the ingredients they would like to procure with the newfound influx of gold jingling in their pockets. They moved through the city, the towering structures and vibrant crowds a stark contrast to the dimly lit confines of their subterranean dwelling.


    "You are going to love this herbalist! He is always fun to visit," Grok rumbled, a hint of amusement in her gravelly voice. They turned a corner, finding themselves in a secluded alleyway. A single door, almost hidden amongst the overgrowth, marked the entrance to their destination. The entire building was enveloped in a riot of vines and flowers, a verdant oasis amidst the stone of the City.


    Ignis, his eyes wide with wonder, traced the intricate patterns of the climbing vines. "We have vines like this back on Earth," he mused. "They''re beautiful, but they can wreak havoc on buildings, working their way into the cracks and causing structural damage over time. I''m going to go out on a limb here," he chuckled, "pun intended, and guess you fix that problem with magic?"


    Grok let out a hearty laugh, her deep voice echoing in the narrow alleyway. "What''s the difference between technology and magic? Our worlds use them the same way, just with different names." She gave Ignis a playful shove towards the door.


    Stepping inside, they were greeted by a scene that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The air hummed with a vibrant energy, a symphony of rustling leaves and fragrant blossoms. Vines snaked up the walls, their emerald tendrils interwoven with vibrant flowers of every imaginable hue. At the center of this botanical haven stood the herbalist himself, a figure as captivating as his surroundings.


    "WELCOME, WELCOME, WELCOME!" he boomed, his voice a rich baritone that resonated through the shop. "Aren''t you the brightest bulbs with such strong roots? Welcome to Sylvan''s Garden!" He was a portly, tree-like creature, his bark-like skin adorned with intricate patterns that resembled leaves and flowers. With a flourish, he groomed a cluster of green onion-like herbs, their delicate white flowers swaying in the gentle breeze created by the opening door.


    Grok stepped forward, her gravelly voice a stark contrast to Sylvan''s melodious tones. "I seek rare ingredients for my alchemical concoctions," she rumbled, her keen eyes already scanning the shelves, identifying a multitude of intriguing herbs and fungi.


    Sylvan winked, a mischievous glint in his pine-cone-like eye. "Ah, an alchemist! Such a noble profession, to turn unknown bits and bobs into powerful concoctions! But beware, my friend, for my herbs are not for the faint of heart. They possess power that can only be wielded by those who are truly worthy."


    He launched into a passionate aria, his voice soaring through the shop as he serenaded his beloved herbs. Ignis watched in awe, captivated by the sheer theatricality of the display, while Grok shifted impatiently, eager to get down to business.


    When Sylvan finally finished his performance ¨C a ballad extolling the virtues of morning dew as he misted a group of tall, orange-flowered plants ¨C he turned to Grok with a mischievous grin on his face. "Now tell me, Orc," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "what makes you worthy of clippings from my precious herb garden?"


    Grok, never one for theatrics, simply grunted and held out her hand. In her palm lay a small, intricately carved box. She opened it, revealing three tiny copper acorns, their surfaces gleaming with an otherworldly light.


    Sylvan gasped, his eyes widening in surprise. "By the Great Root! These are... Seeds of the Copper Core! A most rare and potent ingredient. To even possess these proves you are indeed a worthy alchemist."


    Grok, now having earned Sylvan''s respect, launched into a detailed explanation of her alchemical aspirations. She described the potions she envisioned creating, the ingredients she already possessed, and the specific herbs she sought to acquire. She even revealed her budget, a gesture of transparency that further solidified her credibility in Sylvan''s eyes.


    Sylvan listened intently, occasionally interjecting with suggestions for alternative herbs that might yield even better results. All the while, he expertly snipped ingredients with glowing, magical shears, carefully placing them into wax paper pouches and tucking them into his apron.


    As the conversation began to wind down, a dramatic shift occurred. Sylvan''s cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by an air of profound sadness. He began to sing a mournful operatic tune, his voice heavy with grief. The herbs in the shop seemed to sway in sympathy, their leaves drooping as if sharing in his sorrow. Sylvan''s song reached a crescendo of despair, and then, with a final, heart-wrenching note, he collapsed to the floor, seemingly lifeless.


    "Umm, did we just kill the herbalist?" Ignis whispered, his voice laced with concern.


    Just as panic began to set in, Sylvan''s hand twitched. He slowly began to crawl towards a large, luminous pink flower, his mournful song gradually regaining its tempo and volume. With each inch he crawled, the music grew more intense, culminating in a passionate crescendo as he reached the flower and planted a fervent kiss in its velvety center.


    As the music faded, Sylvan gently pulled away from the flower, his wooden lips stained with its pink pollen. He then meticulously wiped his lips with another wax paper envelope, a look of contentment spreading across his face.


    "This one is on the house," he declared, presenting the envelope to Grok with a flourish. "Loveshade Pollen. It can only be harvested upon the death of a lover, the immense grief felt by the harvester intensifying the potency of the pollen. Often used in potions to spark a like-minded interest in the heart of an unrequited love," he winked, "or to turn the expired lover into an undead puppet if you''re into the freaky stuff. I don''t judge."


    Placing a pouch of gold on the counter, Grok scooped up the small paper bag overflowing with wax paper pouches packed with herbs, bulbs, pollen, and other alchemical treasures. Grok and Ignis made their exit before the dramatic gardener could launch into another aria, offering a hasty wave as they slipped back into the bustling marketplace.


    With their purchase complete, Ignis and Grok turned their attention towards their next destination: a chef''s table tasting. Ignis enthusiastically explained the concept to Grok, emphasizing the exclusivity and artistry of such an event. He pulled the flyer from his inventory, only to realize with a frown that it lacked a crucial detail: the location.


    "They always think they''re so clever," Ignis mused, tapping the flyer thoughtfully. "They like to hide the entrance to these events behind a riddle or a challenge. It''s meant to weed out those who won''t truly appreciate the intricacies of dishes that can take hours to prepare a single bite. I once found one by entering a speakeasy through a stockroom in a dive bar." He reread the flyer, his eyes scanning the cryptic verse:


    A creature of the sea, born of ice and fire.


    A gift from the earth, a treasure to desire.


    A touch of heaven, a taste of the divine.


    A symphony of flavors, a culinary design.


    Lost in thought, Ignis and Grok wandered through the market, the riddle echoing in their minds. Suddenly, a shop caught Grok''s eye. "Princess Soapery" proclaimed the sign above the vibrant pink storefront, adorned with white accents and glittering displays. Intrigued, the pair stepped inside, Ignis still mentally wrestling with the riddle.


    Grok, drawn to a bar of soap that resembled a slice of pink cake with deep blue swirls and white frosting topped with shimmering glitter, hesitated. Was it meant to be smelled or eaten? Opting for the former, she inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla and honey.


    "HA HA HA HA! I''VE GOT YOU NOW!" a voice boomed. A tall, blonde human woman in a long pink dress and white apron materialized before them, a magic wand clutched in her hand. Bursts of shimmering magic erupted around Grok and Ignis, momentarily startling them into a defensive stance. "Now that you''ve smelled my soap," the woman cackled, "any bathing without it will leave you feeling unwell!" She struck a dramatic pose, clearly relishing her villainous monologue.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Ignis, however, remained unimpressed. "It''s just a glitter wand," he shrugged, brushing the sparkling particles from his shoulder. "Cool, I guess, but that stuff gets everywhere. So, kind of evil-lite?"


    "Come, you must wash your hands in a basin with my soap," the woman insisted, her tone shifting from menacing to motherly. She grabbed Grok''s arm, gently guiding the towering Orc towards a washbasin and placing a bar of cherry-scented soap in her hand.


    "You too, beanpole," she chirped, turning to Ignis. "I have some more rugged scents just for you. I am the Princess of Bubbles, and you are in my kingdom! You must do as I say, or my army of Suds will wash you away!" she declared with a maniacal giggle.


    Grok, surprisingly, seemed to enjoy the experience. "She''s a bit out there," she admitted to Ignis, "but this really does smell good. Pierce''s cleaning spell is great, but this makes me feel...pretty." She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the cherry soap clinging to her hands.


    Ignis chuckled, observing the unexpected transformation in his Orcish companion. "You know, I know you''re female, but I never really saw you as...feminine or girly. I guess the same goes for Evolon. Or any woman that can kick my ass, now that I think about it." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "That scent does suit you, though. I''m getting Evolon this rose-scented soap. She''ll hate it!"


    "Grok understands," she replied, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. "Strong warriors want to be the one to save the dainty maiden, not be saved by an even stronger woman warrior. Grok loves smashing heads, but sometimes even I want to feel like a girly girl." She placed two bars of the cherry soap on the counter, along with a bar of rose petal soap for Evolon. After paying, the pair continued down the street, leaving a trail of cherry blossom scent and shimmering glitter in their wake.


    "Food from the sea and treasure..." Ignis murmured, returning to the riddle. "That reminds me of something. Do you have oysters here in Dunblag? Rock-looking seashells, and when you open them, they have a tasty muscle inside, and sometimes pearls?"


    "Grok is not sure," she replied, "but if it''s from the sea, you would find it at the port market." She surged ahead, leading the way westward towards the city''s bustling waterfront.


    They soon arrived at a chaotic market overflowing with strange and exotic seafood. Copper-wooden crates filled with ice displayed a dizzying array of creatures, their unfamiliar forms and vibrant colors a testament to the diversity of this alien world. After navigating through several aisles, Ignis finally spotted what he was looking for. Waving Grok in the direction, he led her through the throng of fishmongers and customers towards a building with a display of oysters out front. Several familiar flyers were plastered on the wall behind it.


    Approaching the oyster vendor, Ignis cleared his throat and asked, "These oysters look lovely. They would be an amazing addition to a chef''s table tasting, don''t you think?"


    The haggard Orc behind the oyster display, his face weathered and adorned with several large warts, looked up and simply pointed down a dark alleyway between two buildings. Crates of bizarre alien fish floated in and out of the alley on magical levitation pallets, adding to the air of mystery.


    "A dark alley!" Ignis exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "This is going to be awesome!"


    Grok, however, seemed less enthusiastic. "Grok does have one question I have to ask," she said sheepishly to her much smaller companion.


    "Grok, you''re a member of the party now," Ignis reassured her, a playful grin spreading across his face. "We don''t have secrets. Ask away." He rubbed his hands together, a gesture of excitement and anticipation, as they ventured deeper into the dimly lit alleyway.


    Grok hesitated for a moment, then, with a surprising vulnerability in her voice, posed the question that had been lingering in her mind. "Why are you so...puny?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Ignis''s slender frame. "You are a rich cook on Earth. You make food. Do you not eat the food? The other humans do not seem to have this problem and Flint seems to eat too much."


    Ignis chuckled, a warm and genuine sound that echoed in the narrow passage. "You know what movies are, right?" he began, launching into an explanation. "Like plays you can watch from nearly anywhere. Well, I was watching one, and someone said something so profound it changed my life. For a long time, I lived for food, and was quite unfit." He paused, a reflective look crossing his face. "The profound words went something like this: ''I don''t like food, I love it... if I don''t love it, I don''t swallow.'' And it changed everything. I stopped gobbling down whatever disgusting junk I could find and elevated what I cooked, only swallowing what was truly delicious. I ended up opening a food truck, then a restaurant, and eventually, I won a very prestigious award for my cooking. Eventually, I just ran the company, stuck in constant meetings rather than cooking. In hindsight, being an adventurer on this planet is so much more fun, but travel rations..." He trailed off, his voice tinged with a hint of longing for the culinary delights of his home world.


    "Earth has so much food you can waste so much," Grok muttered, her voice filled with a mix of awe and disbelief.


    "It''s true," Ignis agreed with a sigh. "We had it all, and few ever realized it."


    As they continued down the alley, following the trail of flyers, they came to a nondescript door. Ignis pushed it open, revealing a stark, empty room. A thin, tall Orc stood behind a small counter, his eyes glued to a thick tome.


    Looking up from his book, he asked in a monotone voice, "What was the ingredient of the day?"


    "Oysters," Ignis replied, a confident grin spreading across his face.


    "This way, please," the Orc said, opening a door to an adjacent room. This one was equally bare, furnished only with two chairs and a small table between them.


    Grok and Ignis took their seats, and suddenly, the room was filled with a flurry of activity. Several Orcs rushed in, their movements swift and purposeful. A young Orcish woman approached the table and placed a blindfold and a piece of rope in front of each of them. "Place the blindfold on your eyes and tie your hands behind your back," she instructed, her voice firm and unwavering, "or leave and never return."


    With a shrug, Grok and Ignis complied. Soon, Ignis could hear the sounds of shuffling feet and the clinking of ceramic on wood. "Open your mouth," the same woman commanded. The pair obeyed, and a single bite of food, delicately balanced on a smooth spoon, was placed in each of their mouths.


    "The fish is perfectly cooked," Ignis declared, his chef''s brain working on autopilot, momentarily forgetting his unusual circumstances. "Crispy on one side, flaky and tender on the other. The splash of citrus adds a refreshing touch, cutting through the richness of the fish. However, a pinch of salt would elevate the bite even further."


    "Open!" the female voice instructed again.


    They were served another bite. Ignis, lost in the symphony of flavors, mused aloud, "Hearty and complex. This tastes like a root vegetable in a nice broth, but it could use some texture. Maybe some crunchy bacon or breadcrumbs."


    "Open for your final bite," the woman said.


    "Sweet, creamy, velvety smooth," Ignis observed after swallowing the delectable morsel. "Like a combination of custard and cake. A little red wine would pair with this perfectly, washing away the sweetness before any aftertaste overpowers the experience."


    "And now," the woman declared, her voice suddenly chilling, "you will die."


    Before Ignis could react, strong arms grabbed him from behind, lifting him and the chair he was bound to. His blindfold still in place, he was forced to rely on his other senses as they carried him from the room. He could feel the movement of a levitating cart as they traveled through the city, completely blind to their surroundings. After what felt like an hour, the cart came to a halt. They were lifted out, carried through a bustling hallway filled with a cacophony of sounds and smells, before finally, their blindfolds were removed.


    Standing before them was a single Orc, clad in a white apron, clapping his hands. Dozens of other Orcs emerged from behind him, joining in the applause.


    "After all this time," the large Orc boomed, sharpening an enormous knife with a theatrical flourish, "I have finally found you. The trouble you put me through to get this face-to-face cannot be understated. Today, you die."


    He paused, allowing the dramatic tension to build, before a wide smile spread across his face. "Or at least," he continued, "it will feel like going to the heavens, as eating mundane morsels on this drab little world will feel like the hells in comparison."


    Ignis took a deep breath, finally allowing himself to smile, masking the nervousness he had felt since entering the dark alleyway. "I assume my critique did not offend?" he asked, his voice steady.


    "Of course not!" the Orcish woman from before exclaimed, approaching the table with a glass of red wine. "Those elements were intentionally left out of the otherwise heavenly bites, as Chef Zep only allows the finest of palates to accompany him at his chef''s table."


    Golden silverware was placed before Ignis and Grok, and a stool was positioned between the table and the bustling kitchen. Chaos erupted around them as ingredients were chopped, cooked in a myriad of ways, and plated for an unseen dining room.


    Finally freed from his bonds, Ignis swirled, smelled, and sipped the wine, cleansing his palate of the lingering sweetness. Grok, ever observant, mirrored his actions.


    For the next few hours, they sat back and enjoyed a culinary spectacle. Dish after dish was prepared before their eyes, each one a masterpiece of flavor and presentation. Zep, the Orcish chef, explained the ingredients and techniques, while Ignis, ever curious, inquired about the magical spells used in the preparation of the eleven-course feast. Grok, slowly working up a buzz on her sixth glass of wine ¨C each one carefully selected to pair with the corresponding course ¨C simply savored the experience.


    Ignis, eager to share his own culinary expertise, traded recipes and techniques with Zep, who, delighted by the exchange, invited Ignis into the kitchen to demonstrate how a human from Earth would prepare a "cheeseburger."


    Stomachs full and spirits high, Grok and Ignis drunkenly meandered their way back through the city. As the sun dipped below the western walls, they arrived back at the hideout, where an excited Pierce, Evolon, and Flint were eagerly discussing their own crafting progress. With a smile and a nod, Ignis stumbled towards his bunk, collapsing onto it with a contented grin on his face.

 Let me guess, war is good for profits?

    Chapter 25


    The next morning, Ignis woke to the sound of laughter echoing from the next room. The realization that he wasn''t the first one awake filled him with a sense of wrongness, a prickle of panic even. The last time this had happened, one of the other party members had decided to cook breakfast. The ensuing culinary disaster ¨C burnt eggs, incinerated bacon, a kitchen filled with acrid smoke ¨C had forced Ignis to halt their D&D session and make an emergency run to the store to replace a ruined pan. Just the thought of eggs swimming in blackened bacon grease made him unconsciously scratch at his arms. He caught himself, forcing his hands still, an act that required a surprising amount of effort given the lingering fog of his hangover.


    He rolled out of his top bunk, landing hard on his knee with a thud that echoed through the hideout. A silent thank you escaped his lips for the Cadium flowing through his system, dulling the pain to a minor inconvenience. He crawled towards the sound of the others, pushing himself into the dining area.


    ¡°GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE!¡± Pierce chirped, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took in Ignis''s less-than-graceful entrance.


    ¡°Now that we''re all here,¡± Evolon added, eyes twinkling as she exchanged a knowing glance with Flint, ¡°we have presents!¡±


    ¡°Coffee,¡± Ignis moaned, dragging himself upright and collapsing into a chair at the table.


    ¡°Grok has a present for Evolon¡± Grok said, producing the rose scented soap for the woman to inspect.


    ¡°Oh I love it!¡± Evolon said with a girly squeal smelling the bar of soap.


    Flint retrieved an energy drink and a power bar from his seemingly endless inventory, placing them in front of Ignis. Then, with a flourish, he added a gleaming short sword to the growing pile. Evolon followed suit, producing a pair of dark, leather bracers banded with metal. Pierce, with a mischievous grin, pulled out a large, white bottle that rattled ominously and added two white pills to the collection.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Ignis groaned, popping the pills into his mouth and washing them down with a long gulp of Cherry Blast energy drink.


    Pierce chuckled. ¡°Oh, I forgot, I can do this now. Silly me, reverting back to old habits¡­¡± He reached out, his hand glowing with a soft, white light, and cast a healing spell on his friend.


    Ignis straightened up instantly, his eyes widening. ¡°WOW, NOW I REALLY LOVE YOU!¡± he exclaimed, the change in his demeanor dramatic. ¡°My pounding headache is completely gone! The cottonmouth is still there, but way less intense.¡±


    ¡°I see Evolon and Flint had a productive day yesterday,¡± Pierce said, nodding towards the sword and bracers. ¡°The swords and vambraces are amazing and come at the perfect time. I figured out how to enchant utility effects along with stat boosts onto gear. I can also increase the stats already on an item, or add new random ones. Here''s the list of effects I can do, but each item can only have one, and their effectiveness is based on your Cadium, not mine, once they''re on something you''re wearing, and no I cannot re-enchant gear you already have without destroying it.¡± He beamed with pride, presenting a hastily scribbled list.


    ¡°I think the swords should just be stat items for now,¡± Pierce suggested, ¡°because a few extra damage points won''t matter as much in the long run for most of us, except maybe for Flint in close combat. We do need to figure out what utility enchantments we want, though, so we can synergize with our roles in the party. The enchantments that didn''t translate into spells are what I''m going to add to my items. I''m picking Mana Sight and Cold Resistance. What about you guys?¡± He looked at his friends, who were studying Pierce''s list with varying degrees of concentration.


    ¡°Grok, you''re like a pharmacist,¡± Evolon said, squinting at the list. ¡°What does this chicken scratch say?¡±


    Grok frowned. ¡°What? I cannot read it either.¡±


    Flint roared with laughter, slapping the table. ¡°Oh, in our world, doctors have horrible handwriting, and Pierce here was training to be one. I swear, first-year medical students have to pass a class where they''re trained to write in the worst way possible, and first-year pharmacists take a class on deciphering the mess!¡±


    Evolon, after a moment of deciphering, finally spoke. ¡°I¡¯ll take Night Sight and Compass. Keep the stats on the sword, add random ones to the bracer. Seeing in dark places should help with finding traps, and a compass will help me navigate better in the wilderness.¡± She presented her sword and bracers to Pierce for enchantment.


    ¡°Light Source on the bracers and Insect Repellant on the sword,¡± Flint declared. ¡°The light up front can help everyone see the baddies in the dark, and I don''t have to explain why I want those buggers to stay far away from me. The only good bug is a dead bug!¡±


    ¡°Oh, if you''re wondering, you can have one weapon sheathed on your person, using its stats and effects, while wielding another,¡± Pierce added, ¡°but we''ll need some leather sheaths for that. Is that something you can take care of, Ev?¡±


    ¡°I can whip something up in the next hour or so,¡± Evolon replied, inspecting her newly enchanted gear with a satisfied smile.


    ¡°Heat Sight and Water Breathing for me,¡± Ignis said. ¡°I like how seeing heat and cold sources synergizes with my fire and ice spells. It could give me an advantage in battle. If a cold-based monster isn''t obviously cold, I can know to use fire more quickly. Remember that time you tried to freeze a blue dragon in D&D? Without metagaming, our characters had no idea it was just healing him.¡± He chuckled, recalling their party''s disastrous encounter.


    ¡°Grok will take Eagle Eye and Levitate,¡± Grok announced. ¡°I would soon like to continue my role as an aerial scout, and these two enchantments would make me much more effective and safe in the air.¡± She produced her bracers and sword, offering them to Pierce with a slight bow.


    Evolon, who had been observing Flint with a curious expression, suddenly spoke. ¡°I do have a question, Flint. We had to practically drag you into that cave before all this started¡­ Now you''re just fine with being underground in this hideout. What changed?¡±


    Flint paused, considering his response. ¡°You know how Cadium dulls pain? I think it also has some form of fear resistance, making its wielder more bold.¡±


    ¡°A powerful warrior without a powerful mind is nothing,¡± Grok added. ¡°If they ran at the first hint of danger, what good would they be on the battlefield?¡±


    Just then, the hidden door to the hideout swung open with a BANG, and Gustavo entered with his usual boisterous energy. ¡°GOOD MORNING, MY FRIENDS!¡± he boomed. ¡°HOW ARE YOU ON THIS GLORIOUS DAY?¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Pierce replied, ¡°but I think we''re close to being done with crafting for now. How soon is this auction?¡±


    ¡°The auction is set for just after noon today,¡± Gustavo explained, his tone shifting to the practiced ease of a seasoned merchant, ¡°with a large after-party for the more influential guests. They have been portaling in all morning with their private guards. Every corner of the city has a pair of guards posted, with roaming squads ensuring a peaceful event.¡±


    ¡°Will any council members be attending?¡± Grok asked, a hint of concern in her voice.


    ¡°Not directly,¡± Gustavo assured her, ¡°but members of their inner circle should all make an appearance. Fear not, your Cadium amount should not be sensed, as they would either need a very powerful and rare spell or would need to be within a few Cadium of yourself to sense how much you have. This is all speculation, as all knowledge of Cadium users over two is held as extremely secretive.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Why all the protection?¡± Evolon inquired. ¡°Are events like this normally dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Any gathering with this much power and cash is sure to bring the most desperate to the surface for a shot at riches and glory,¡± Gustavo explained. ¡°They are normally low-level, desperate thugs, easily crushed.¡±


    ¡°I have a private box reserved for the Backup Plan adventuring group,¡± Gustavo announced, handing each party member a shimmering golden stone. ¡°Please remember to keep your masks on for the foreseeable future.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Pierce said, addressing the group, ¡°finish up your projects and pack up your crafting gear. By noon, we''re headed to the auction house. We''ll likely stay here one final night, but by tomorrow morning, we''re headed through the portal. We have a date with a Doombringer.¡± He met each of their eyes, receiving a nod of agreement in return.


    After a quick lunch of eel kabobs, the group followed Gustavo back to the surface. The familiar trek through the underground passages passed quickly, and soon they were back on the bustling streets of Dunblag, assaulted by its pungent smells and crowds of alien lifeforms. As expected, large Orc guards were posted in pairs on every corner, with small groups of three patrolling between them, ensuring order. They soon approached a massive spherical structure, magical holograms swirling around it, proclaiming the exclusive auction and displaying a countdown timer ticking down to the event''s start time.


    The group flashed their golden tickets to the guards at the entrance and were ushered to a private booth by a young human boy. He gestured towards a refreshments bar at the back of the booth, stocked with a platter of meat, bread, and various drinks, then held out his hand expectantly.


    ¡°I guess tipping is universal,¡± Flint remarked, tossing the boy a gold coin.


    ¡°Actually, it''s mostly an American thing,¡± Pierce mused aloud. ¡°I''m not sure how that translates to this world. Maybe some powerful businessman traveled to Earth and used his knowledge of underpaying staff and requesting tips to further his fortune.¡±


    ¡°I bet it was the same with the Templars,¡± Flint countered, ¡°when banks and the idea of interest were first introduced. The culture of contracts and business seems to go back much farther in magical society history than the 1400 or so years we''ve had it on Earth.¡±


    ¡°I cannot speak for the greater universe,¡± Grok added, ¡°but the Zotto tribe has used contracts for 50,000 years, with the written texts widely available for any clan member to view when studying in primary school.¡±


    ¡°I thought so,¡± Flint said, nodding. ¡°Far back in my family tree, we made weapons and armor for the Templars, who paid with some of the earliest banknotes. My grandpa still has some of the paperwork framed on his wall. If your culture goes back that far, my theory is plausible.¡± He continued to muse aloud while the others gawked at the impressive interior of the auction hall.


    ¡°The Grand Emporium is often used as a museum,¡± Gustavo explained, ¡°hosts plays, and of course, serves as an extremely secure auction house. Beneath it is one of the most well-protected vaults in all of Dunblag.¡±


    The grand hall surrounding them was the inside of the giant hollow sphere atop the building. The sphere was lined with private boxes, each with a shimmering field blocking spells, sight, and sound from all other attendees. Plush couches and chairs were arranged facing the center of the sphere, each with a small table bearing magical runes in front of it. In the center of the sphere, another shimmering force field enclosed the auction platform.


    ¡°You place your hand on the reader,¡± Gustavo explained, demonstrating by placing his hand on the table near his seat on a large black leather couch, ¡°which lets you inspect any item in the auction catalog. You simply swipe left or right on the table to move forward or back to the next item. This allows everyone in attendance to securely validate the item''s authenticity and strategize on their bidding to ensure all parties have a fair shot at winning what they want.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Evolon said, placing her hand on the table before her, ¡°I thought these were for your bingo cards. I once went on a cruise, and they had something just like this, but it was for cocktails and bingo. This makes much more sense in this setting, though.¡±


    The group swiped through the item list, chatting about the usefulness of several items and estimating what they would sell for, quickly realizing that most were out of their league ¨C at least until the proceeds from the sale of their own items were distributed. The rules stated that bidders could only bid with gold they had on their person, and the amount was instantly removed from their inventory via the enchanted table upon bidding and returned if they were outbid.


    Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a slender, effeminate male Orc with surprisingly delicate features and a voice that could curdle milk. He took the stage and cleared his throat.


    He introduced the first item up for auction: a pair of boots that allowed the wearer to walk on water. They were also fitted with self-repair and "well-fitting" enchantments, but no further stat boosts were included. The party collectively liked but didn''t love the item, which erupted in a flurry of bids as disguised voices called out from around the room. Only the bid amounts were audible; no other noise was permitted through the privacy fields. A growing number appeared above the auctioneer''s head, slowing as it reached 1,000 gold and finally selling for 1,107 gold.


    "If this junk sells for over eleven hundred gold," Pierce whistled, "what are our items going to go for?"


    "Utility enchantments are common," Gustavo explained, his grin widening. "Items with up to five stat points are more rare, but having two or three stat points of over twenty each are so incredibly rare as to be impossible to find. To have six of them in one auction is... well, you will see."


    The next few items were less impressive and sold for less than the first. A cursed dagger that whispered secrets in its wielder''s ear, a potion that promised eternal youth, and a crystal ball that could show your deepest desires all sold quickly for a few hundred gold each.


    Of the next dozen items, only a halberd with a life-tap enchantment that healed the wielder for ten percent of the damage inflicted sold for over a thousand gold. Before they knew it, the main event had begun.


    ¡°Behold!¡± The auctioneer proclaimed as a plain leather breastplate slowly rose from a hole in the center of the auction platform, bathed in bright light. ¡°A masterpiece of craftsmanship and enchanting! This seemingly common breastplate, created by The Celestial Artisans, boasts three stats above thirty each, bolstering even the fiercest warrior among us while hiding them in plain sight. No need for flashy armor to make you stand out in a large battle, painting a glowing target on your back. The owner of this armor will look like any other simple combatant while wielding undeniable power to shift battles in their favor at a whim!¡± The auctioneer hyped the plain brown leather breastplate to such a degree that the party almost felt compelled to bid, before remembering they owned far superior gear.


    The bidding started at three thousand gold and jumped in increments of a thousand before slowing around the sixty-five hundred mark, finally selling for seven thousand gold.


    ¡°The council members are frantically bidding against each other,¡± Gustavo explained, his grin stretching even wider, ¡°knowing a large balance of power lies in the wake of this auction. This is why six items is the perfect amount. One for each of them, and one for whomever has the funds to purchase it in the aftermath. The combined taxes of each of their territories for several months, or even years, are being spent today.¡±


    The next four items auctioned followed a similar pattern, selling for between sixty-five hundred and eighty-five hundred gold. But the final item of the night went quite differently. Lower booths on the sphere started the bidding, hoping for their own piece of power, but quickly realized that none of the powerful council members who had won the previous items would allow anyone but themselves to own the last one, thus completing their coup and tipping the balance of power in their favor. The bidding slowed around ten thousand one hundred gold before a bid of twelve thousand came from one of the lower rows of boxes.


    ¡°There it is,¡± Gustavo said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. ¡°One of the powerful members of government, merchants, or possibly even an underling of a council member themselves, attempting to rise to a seat of power. If only they realized Cadium, not equipment, is the real power. Soon, a small civil war between council members will leave that poor being dead in a ditch somewhere, their shiny new sword taken as spoils. Then the real sparks will fly. You see, the silent underground movement to remove the council from power just struck the first blow of a war they will never see coming. But first, we will have them weaken themselves before the hammer of justice strikes the final blow.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Ignis said, ¡°war is good for profits?¡±


    Gustavo laughed. ¡°Peace is also good for profits, but manipulating a war can be more profitable.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any rules of acquisition?¡± Pierce asked with a smile.


    ¡°Not that I know of,¡± Gustavo chuckled, ¡°but I like the sound of that. Oh, before I forget, do not go around town flaunting your money. Lay low for some time and spend it slowly, lest you paint a target on your own back.¡±


    As the auction ended, each party member received around ten thousand gold, while Gustavo received a cut of just under three thousand, deposited directly into their inventories. Standing to leave the private box, Flint made a quick sandwich and Grok grabbed a mug of ale. Masks still in place, the group moved down the hallway to the ballroom for the after-party, where the rich and powerful attendees could flaunt their newly acquired goods ¨C or hide them away, leaving everyone to theorize and gossip about who purchased each item.

 A lady does not let her accessories outshine herself

    Chapter 26


    The ballroom buzzed with the afterglow of the auction. Chandeliers, each a cascade of crystal and gold, cast glittering shards of colorful light across the opulent space of the large domed ballroom. Richly dressed guests sipped sparkling amber liquid from delicate champagne flutes, exchanging gossip about those who had attended the auction, each with their own hidden agendas.


    The group entered the ballroom, their adventuring gear concealed beneath elegant cloaks, their masks still firmly in place. Ignis, feeling a touch overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance of it all, looked at his friends, clapped his hands together, and declared, "I''m going to need a drink for this!" He headed towards the open bar, lightly crowded with finely dressed men and women of races he had only ever encountered in fantasy stories and games.


    After procuring a complimentary flute of the sparkling amber liquid, which tasted remarkably similar to champagne, Ignis smiled after taking a sip. His eyes were drawn by a flicker of arcane energy in a quiet corner of the ballroom. A lone figure exited a shimmering portal before casually waving it out of existence. Intrigued, Ignis slowly made his way over. A striking elf with dark, kohl-rimmed eyes and an air of melancholy stood waiting with pale cheeks and pouty lips, seemingly expecting him.


    "Greetings," Ignis began, his voice a soft, captivating rumble. "I couldn''t help but notice your... aura. You possess a rare and wonderful talent for portal magic."


    The elf, surprised by the compliment, offered a small, hesitant smile, the corners of her naturally frowning lips lifting slightly. "You can sense that? Most just see my gloomy demeanor and look away."


    "Indeed," Ignis affirmed. "I, myself, dabble in the arcane arts. Might I inquire about your particular method of portal conjuration? The stability of your weave is, quite frankly, impressive."


    "I am Rizelle," the tall elf in the elegant black dress extended her hand towards Ignis, while absentmindedly fanning the blush from her cheeks with the other. "But you may call me Rizzy."


    "Rizzy, I am Gandalf," Ignis replied, gently taking her hand and bowing low to press a light kiss to her knuckles. With the practiced ease of one well-versed in the customs of high society, he plucked a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray and offered it to her. ¡°And you may call me Mithrandir.¡±


    Ignis, captivated by Rizzy''s knowledge and unique perspective, continued to engage her in conversation. He wove tales of magic and wonder from his own world, which he left unnamed, while Rizzy spoke of the ancient civilizations that once thrived in this realm, their mastery of arcane arts, and the forgotten lore she had dedicated her life to studying.


    "It''s quite fascinating, isn''t it?" Ignis mused, swirling the champagne in his flute. "The way we weave mana into arcane energy and how that interacts with the fabric of reality to create such vastly different effects."


    Rizzy nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I couldn''t agree more. It''s even more beautiful when you can manipulate it to your will," she said, conjuring a small, crystalline bunny in her hands. With a few muttered words, she animated it, setting it down on the floor with a gentle wave. The ice bunny playfully hopped around the pair as they talked and sipped their drinks in the otherwise deserted corner of the room.


    Ignis smiled, genuinely impressed. "A true artist, painting the world with strokes of your magic."


    Rizzy blushed slightly, her heart pounding. "You have a way with words, Mithrandir. I am impressed, but is your magic as potent as your flattery?"


    Ignis, oblivious to the subtle flirtation, discreetly froze time for everyone in the room except the two of them. He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. "It''s merely a talent for observation," he finally replied, his voice a low, resonant hum as time and sound resumed around them. "I am often drawn to beauty, and the intricate patterns in the universe you weave are a delight to behold."


    "You''re a natural," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I can see why you''ve achieved such heights."


    With purposeful movements of her hands and a low incantation, Rizzy created a small, shimmering magical mark on the ground between them, allowing Ignis to learn the casting of the spell. "This is an anchor," she explained. "None but the caster and those she allows may perceive it. Two is my limit, for now, but when I cast a portal, it leads to an anchor I have previously set."


    "Would I be able to make a portal to your anchor, if I were aware of it?" Ignis asked, fascinated by the new spell he had just learned, already casting it to create his own anchor next to hers.


    Rizzy, slightly tipsy from the champagne, laughed before catching herself and covering her mouth with a delicate hand. "I''ve never heard of such a thing," she explained, her voice slightly breathless, "but with enough study of the surrounding area, I believe going the other direction is possible. Portals leave small scars in the universal weave; magic flows around these scars in odd currents. A talented enough portal mage could possibly recreate a previously used portal, but the boldness of just hopping through a portal not knowing where it leads... that would take quite some bravery." Rizzy said, running a finger down Ignis''s shoulder to his arm, and finally to his hand, which she grasped in hers.


    "Watch closely," Rizzy whispered, her lips close to Ignis''s ear. She pulled back slightly, using her free hand to adjust a stray strand of hair, then let it trail slowly down her bare neck, over the black lace bodice of her dress towards her bosom. Where she produced a black, sparkling, foot-long wand and waved it with practiced movements, speaking the incantation aloud, clear and resonant.


    A shimmering silver portal appeared near the wall, its center swirling with iridescent light. Rizzy, clasping Ignis''s hand with a light squeeze, whispered into his ear again. "Now, how brave are you?" Before he could answer, she stepped through the portal, releasing his hand just before she disappeared.


    Standing dumbfounded for a moment, Ignis resolutely stepped forward, the new Portal spell a welcome addition to his growing repertoire of magic. As he passed through the shimmering gateway, he realized something else was growing - a sense of anticipation, perhaps? With a gasp, Ignis exited the portal into a breathtakingly large room, easily 20,000 square feet with soaring 30-foot ceilings. Huge windows on all four walls offered panoramic views of the endless forest far below. His eyes scanned the room, decorated in shades of light pink and inky black, with plush chairs and a massive four-poster bed. And there, sitting on the edge of the bed with a playful smile on her face, was the beautiful elf, Rizzy.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Meanwhile, Flint and Pierce had gravitated towards an eerie group of mages engaged in a heated discussion. Pierce, overhearing the word "zombie," settled in to listen to the argument.


    A two-foot-tall, bald man declared with an exasperated sigh, "I tell you, skeletons are far superior to zombies! Sure, in the short term, you gain a slightly stronger minion, but long term, if you boil the bones, the skeleton can perform much more intricate tasks and understand more complex commands. Not to mention, skeletons don''t walk at a shambling speed!"


    A small Orcish woman in a vibrant red robe countered with a high-pitched whine, "Boil the bones? When darkness is at your door, zombies can be your savior! No need to arm or armor them, they spring up ready to shamble in larger, quicker numbers to demolish what needs demolishing."


    A third being, a tall, dark-green lizard man hunched over a gnarled cane, spoke up in a raspy voice, "I believe ssspecters are superior. Yesss, timing the trapping of a sssoul as it exits the corpse can be difficult, but the ability to be incorporeal and the power to curse your enemiesss with a touch is far sssuperior to the bumbling ineptitude of either SSSSkeletons or Zombiesss."


    "Specters are nice," the short, bald man conceded, "but they don''t interact with our reality very well. A whole army of specters at your service won''t scratch your back when a wicked itch appears. They also don''t suffer from the weakness of a crushed skull, making all your hard work crumble to a pile of dust."


    "At least you must crush the skull, rather than rely on a mere magical weapon or spell to dissipate a specter," the small Orcish woman retorted with a wheeze. "I will admit, in small quantities, they can be useful, but one well-equipped group of adventurers could slash and cast their way through them with ease."


    "Adventurers!" the three exclaimed in unison, casting scathing glances towards Flint and Pierce.


    "Don''t mind us," Flint said with a hearty laugh, diffusing the tension. "We''re just here for the debate... and the ale." He produced frosty tankards of ale from his seemingly endless inventory, passing them to the three debating necromancers.


    "So you''re not that noble do-gooder kind of adventurer that only sees a zombie as a skull to be crushed?" the small bald man asked, peering up at Flint with inquisitive eyes.


    "As long as you''re not bothering me and mine," Flint replied with a hearty laugh and a long pull from his tankard, "I see no reason to bother you and yours."


    Meanwhile, Grok gravitated towards a group of burly orc guards stationed near a side entrance. Feigning camaraderie, she clapped one on the shoulder. "Strong work," she boomed, her voice resonating with authority. "Keeping this rabble in line."


    The orcs, recognizing the status of their company, continued their conversation about which of the lords in attendance was the worst to work for. After hearing many scandalous stories about mistresses, assassination attempts, and mistresses attempting assassinations, Grok subtly steered the conversation towards those guarding the Portal Room on Dunblag.


    "Heard they''re stepping up security around the Doombringer portal after that messy invasion," Grok remarked casually. "Many proud warriors lining up to feed the Necromancer''s fields with their blood?"


    "Aye," one of the guards grunted. "Double shifts now, but the rotations are a bit messy. Glaud is out on maternity leave, leaving a hole around dawn. You know how it is."


    "Lords not wanting to spend the coin for a replacement?" Grok chuckled, taking a sip of her ale.


    "I could buy the moon with the gold greedy lords have shaved from the security budget," one particularly large orc grumbled, eliciting a chorus of affirming grunts from his comrades.


    Evolon slipped into the ladies'' room, seeking a small, private space. She retrieved a shimmering evening gown from the far corner of her inventory, thankful she grabbed it from her car back on earth, the garment still encased in its dry-cleaning plastic. With the magic of her inventory system, she quickly changed, the curve-hugging dress materializing on her body. "These just won''t do," she mumbled to herself as she removed her comfortable combat boots and replaced them with delicate, sparkly black pumps that perfectly matched her dress.


    She exited the ladies'' room, moving through the opulent ballroom with the grace of a seasoned predator. Her mask, while concealing her identity, did little to diminish her captivating presence. She seamlessly integrated herself into a gaggle of high-society wives, their voices a symphony of whispers and giggles.


    "Did you see her new necklace?" one woman chirped, her voice laced with envy. "How many corpses did her husband step over to afford such a display?"


    "Oh, that thing?" Evolon replied with a dismissive wave of her black silk-gloved hand, feigning nonchalance. "I''ve seen better."


    "You must have quite the collection yourself," another woman remarked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.


    "Indeed," Evolon purred, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as long, dangling diamond earrings materialized in her ears, glittering against her long neck. Her hair, now pulled back into a sleek high ponytail, showcased the elegant line of her jaw. "My jewelry procurement specialist, Tiffany, often finds the most dazzling pieces, but one must not overdo it."


    "Precisely," one of the women agreed. "A lady does not let her accessories outshine herself."


    "Or soon," a second woman added with a scandalous giggle, "the lady is replaced with a shiny new neck to lay that necklace upon."


    Evolon found herself unexpectedly enjoying the frivolous gossip of these important people she cared little for. In her past life, she had been dragged to countless society balls and parties by her high-powered lawyer parents, paraded around like a prized possession, a trophy to be shown off to their clients and friends. They were always on the lookout for a suitable young man to marry her off to. Pushing down the unwelcome memories and the emotions they stirred, she focused on the chatter, injecting just enough conversation to keep the gossip flowing.


    A few hours later, as the crowd began to thin, four of the party members converged in a quiet corner of the ballroom, sharing the information they had gleaned while sipping on their drinks. Suddenly, a shimmering silver portal appeared twenty feet away, and Ignis stumbled through, hastily pulling his robe back onto his body. He looked around, blushing furiously, and walked towards the group.


    "Not a word," Ignis pleaded, his cheeks still flushed.


    "Did the carpet match the drapes?" Flint asked, ignoring his friend''s request.


    "Nope, my money is on black and pink," Evolon added with a chuckle.


    "How..." Ignis sputtered before clamping his mouth shut. "A gentleman never tells."


    "Gentleman?" Pierce quipped, joining in on the teasing. "How about a horny foodie wizard nerd?"


    "Uggg..." Ignis mumbled, following the group back to their hideout for a few hours of sleep.


    The group awoke with a jolt as a loud siren blared through the bunkroom. Silencing the alarm, Pierce hopped out of his top bunk, checked his inventory, and equipped his gear. Ignis efficiently distributed travel rations and energy drinks to each party member, who were also busy checking their equipment. Ignis cast an anchor spell in the center of the large hideout, while Pierce left Gustavo a note on the table, outlining the rather loose plan they had concocted.


    Heading out into the pre-dawn city, the group donned their masks once again, moving like shadows through the deserted streets towards the imposing central portal room, where the Doombringer portal awaited them.

 I never understand your... Reindeer Games.

    Chapter 27


    The group, their nerves taut with anticipation, approached a colossal structure that dominated the cityscape. Towering arches, each easily fifty feet high, lined its flanks, casting long shadows in the pre-dawn light. Suddenly, a monstrous shape descended from the sky, its leathery wings eclipsing the two moons currently shining down from above. Several members of the party flinched back in surprise as the creature swooped low, brushing against Grok with a gust of wind before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.


    "Oh, I almost forgot about Bromli," Pierce chuckled over their mental link, referring to the monstrous drake creature that served as Groks companion. "He makes quite an entrance."


    "I think I need to clean out my pants," Flint muttered, his bravado momentarily forgotten.


    "Inside," Grok continued, as the group regained their composure, "are inspection stations that charge portal fees per person and per item, depending on what it is. Beyond that are five portals, each leading to a different council member''s planet. Most minor planets like this one can''t move between each other directly; they have to go through a capital planet first. It''s a way for them to double-dip on the taxes, as you pay with each portal transit. This leads to much lower prices, or higher profit margins, on capital planets, and import items become so expensive that only the wealthy can afford them on minor planets."


    Stepping into the cavernous central portal building, Grok approached the ticket counter, her imposing figure casting an intimidating shadow. "Five tickets for Woberia," she declared in a commanding voice.


    "What is the reason for transport?" the nasally voiced, undersized orc on the other side of the thick glass partition inquired, barely looking up from the steaming beverage he was cradling.


    "Quest for the Adventurers Guild," Grok stated, holding out her glowing badge for the teller to inspect.


    "Five gold," the teller mumbled, his eyes flicking briefly over the party before returning to his drink.


    Taking their tickets, the group joined the queue, moving beneath the imposing arches marked "Woberia," positioned directly beside a set of eerily empty arches labeled "Doombringer." The line inched forward, a chaotic procession of couriers pushing floating boxes, pallets, and cages filled with restless creatures. Walking with the queue the group neared the Woberia portal.


    Pierce muttered a series of arcane words under his breath, conjuring a brilliant orb of light off to the side of the line farthest from the Doombringer portal. The signal given, Ignis, with a practiced gesture, cast Time Stop, freezing the bustling scene around them. The group sprinted towards the Doombringer portal, not surprised by the lack of guards stationed nearby. They plunged through the swirling vortex of iridescent light, vanishing just as time resumed its normal flow.


    "In and out, unsuspected and undetected... I love a good smash and grab!" Flint exclaimed over the mental link, his bravado returning as they materialized in a well-lit, empty room on a distant planet.


    Looking around, the group noticed similar lines of couriers departing Doombringer for other capital planets, but none heading towards the city of Dunblag on the planet of Jusburnaxium. Several of the other portals also had incoming couriers, swiftly navigating the queue to exit the transportation building. Grok and the group seamlessly merged into the line, each scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger.


    Soon, they exited a near-replica of the building they had entered just moments before, stepping onto wide, stone-lined avenues teeming with couriers darting through the early morning light. Pierce, voicing the thought that had been lingering in everyone''s minds, asked, "How did they sync the time of day up so well? We''re on a completely different planet, and it''s just before dawn... or maybe dusk. But this looks like a morning crowd."


    Before anyone could offer a theory, the group came to an abrupt halt, their eyes widening at the sight before them. Thousands of brilliant white, animated skeletons moved chaotically through the streets, carrying bags, boxes, pouches... one even carried the purse of a human woman directly behind her as she strolled into one of the shops lining the street. Each skeleton had a metal headband with a glowing amber gem embedded in its forehead. These weren''t mindless warriors; they were purposeful, organized, silent, and eerily efficient.


    The group stood frozen in the middle of the street, a small island in a sea of bone and bustling humanoids. A single skeleton, clutching a broom, stopped beside them and clicked its jaw twice, seemingly awaiting a response.


    "What does that mean?" Evolon asked, her voice barely a whisper, as she was closest to the clicking skeleton.


    "Don''t look at me, I''ve never been here before," Grok replied, her voice laced with unease.


    "Oh look, Desere, tourists!" a tall human woman in a well-tailored business suit remarked with a cheerful smile, a pre-teen girl with short blonde hair at her side. "It''s been a while since we''ve seen those. Bones here has to sweep the sidewalk. He''ll stand there until either you move or the heat death of the universe." The woman continued down the street, the girl turning and offering a small, hesitant wave to the bewildered adventurers.


    "Well, this is... unexpected," Pierce remarked, ushering the group towards the side of the bustling avenue. The sheer volume of activity, the organized chaos of the skeletal workforce, and the unsettlingly cheerful demeanor of the city''s inhabitants left them feeling off-kilter.


    Venturing deeper into Doombringer, they encountered a vibrant tapestry of humanoid races. Elves presided over market stalls overflowing with exotic fruits and vegetables, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the skeletal workers diligently arranging baskets and weighing produce. Dwarves, their faces grimy with soot, hammered away in open-air forges, crafting intricate cast iron cookware with practiced ease. Gnomes, meticulously assembled clockwork contraptions, their tiny hands moving with remarkable precision. Even the occasional orc could be seen, their imposing figures surprisingly at home amongst the butchers and meat vendors, expertly wielding cleavers and carving knives.


    "Greetings, travelers!" a cheerful gnome shopkeeper called out, his voice cutting through the din of the marketplace. His wares, displayed on a meticulously organized stall, gleamed in the sunlight. "Welcome to Osseopolis''s Emporium of Wonders! I am Ossepolis," the small gnomish man with a shock of fuzzy white hair declared with a flourish and a small bow. "Can I interest you in some fine enchanted spectacles? Half price for newcomers!" he added, gesturing towards his impressive inventory.


    "How can they afford this?" Evolon wondered aloud, her eyes drawn to a magical toaster that promised to perfectly toast bread with its self-flipping mechanism. The price tag, a mere five gold pieces, seemed absurdly low for such a marvel of magical engineering.


    "Offworlders, huh?" the gnome inquired with a knowing grin. "It''s no masterwork," he admitted, tapping the toaster with a calloused finger, "but my work isn''t bad either. I charge a fair price for good work!" he added with a hint of pride.


    "We''re just used to much higher prices for such quality craftsmanship," Pierce explained, carefully examining a pair of enchanted spectacles that promised to translate any language into the wearer''s native tongue. Intrigued, he quickly memorized the intricate runes etched into the frame, effectively capturing the enchantment for himself. He noted the complex interplay of magical symbols, one set to decipher the written language, another to translate it, and a third to seamlessly overlay the translation onto the original text.


    "It''s against the law to charge more than a 10% markup," Ossepolis explained, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "And with the massive free labor force of the ''Boney Boys'' doing all the hard work of mining, farming, and transporting the needed materials, we can focus on exploring our creativity. Rent is also extremely low, and after twenty years, you own your building outright." He picked up a curious carving knife with two serrated blades, demonstrating its enchantment by willing the blades to move back and forth with a subtle hum.


    "Just like an electric carving knife from home," Ignis remarked, peering at the knife with interest.


    "Isn''t it wonderful?" Ossepolis chirped, his smile widening into an unnervingly broad grin. "We want for nothing!"


    Smiling politely and nodding, Ignis mused, "It really does seem that way," as he handed the gnome ten gold pieces for the enchanted carving knife, adding it to his inventory.Stolen story; please report.


    The group reunited and continued their exploration, their senses bombarded by the enticing aromas wafting from the various shops lining the street. The smell of freshly baked bread drew them towards a bakery, where golden loaves were displayed on a cart outside, each priced at a single gold piece. Next, they passed a confectionery, its windows filled with delicate pastries adorned with chocolate, powdered sugar, and glistening fruit. Further down, a butcher shop showcased an impressive array of meats: steaks, ground meat, sausages, roasts, and even whole birds, all ready for cooking and all at incredibly low prices.


    As they browsed, their conversation continued over the mental link, their unease growing with each encounter.


    "Those headbands are bothering me," Ignis confessed, his voice tinged with concern. "They''re radiating a faint magical aura. Could they be a control mechanism?"


    "Could be," Evolon replied, her voice thoughtful. "But everyone is so nice here. I like it!"


    "Yes, very nice," Flint agreed, his eyes scanning a pair of finely crafted leather boots. "Almost too nice."


    Ignis, drawn by a symphony of exotic scents, wandered into a tea and spice shop. A wave of aromas assaulted his nostrils: cinnamon, cloves, ginger, turmeric, and a hundred other spices he couldn''t identify. The walls of the small but deep shop were lined with glass jars, each with a wooden lid and a label written in an unfamiliar script. "Pierce, give me those glasses, would you?" Ignis requested, his fingers itching to examine the exotic ingredients. Donning the spectacles, he began pulling each jar off the shelf, carefully inhaling the fragrance of its contents and jotting down notes on a small notepad. "I keep thinking of these people as being from the 1800s, but with magic," he mused to the others over the mental link. "But their economy is as diverse as ours back home. I''ve never seen this many diverse and wonderful spices in one place, and I''ve been to spice markets all across Earth." He paused, captivated by a jar filled with a sweet, slightly spicy, and smoky powdered blend. His mouth watered in anticipation.


    "I''ll take a kilo of this, that one, and this blue tea here, please," Ignis said, placing three gold coins on the counter, his eyes still sparkling with culinary excitement.


    "A wonderful choice," the human shopkeeper replied, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he bagged the tea and spices. "You must be planning a gamey roasted bird for dinner tonight."


    "They do seem to complement each other well with a chicken or turkey," Ignis agreed, his mind already conjuring up flavor combinations. "What else do you think would go with it?"


    "Head over to the next vegetable stand and talk to my friend Rodger," the man suggested with a broad smile. "He can get you some sweet corn and tubers that would be perfect." He paused, his smile widening. "Isn''t it wonderful? We want for nothing!"


    "I see that I could get used to living like this," Ignis admitted, a touch of wistfulness in his voice as he exited the shop, stowing his fragrant purchases.


    "I''m in a bookstore," Pierce announced over the mental chat, his voice laced with surprise. "Most of these are cookbooks. I understand a good food scene, but nearly every shop we''ve passed has had something to do with food or cooking."


    "Maybe this is the foodie district?" Ignis suggested. "Let''s head over a few blocks and see what else we can find."


    The five party members, navigating the chaotic flow of skeletal workers and cheerful citizens, carved a path through the crowded streets, regrouping before proceeding down another avenue.


    The group, their sense of unease growing with each encounter, decided to take a break from the bustling marketplace. Following the enticing aroma of roasted meat and the sounds of lively chatter, they turned a corner and found themselves facing an inn. Its sign, swinging gently in the breeze, declared it "The Prancing Pony," a name that brought a smile to the faces of the humans in the group.


    The tavern was dimly lit, with rough-hewn wooden tables and a roaring fireplace casting dancing shadows across the walls. A jovial dwarf, his thick beard braided with silver rings, stood behind the bar, expertly polishing tankards with a practiced hand. Skeletal servers, their bony fingers surprisingly adept at carrying trays laden with mugs and plates piled high with food, moved silently between the tables.


    "Welcome, friends! Sit wherever ye like," the dwarf boomed, his voice a welcoming baritone. "What can I get for ye? We''ve got the finest stock of ales in the city, aged spirits, and quite a nice wine selection, if I don''t say so myself."


    "Second breakfast and a nice bottle of red, please," Pierce requested, a hint of amusement in his voice, wondering if anyone would recognize the order from The Lord of the Rings.


    "No problem!" the dwarf replied with a hearty laugh, relaying the order to the kitchen through a small, enchanted stone hanging around his neck on a leather strap.


    The group settled into a corner booth, their eyes darting around, taking in the scene. While the tavern had a certain rustic charm, the ever-present skeletal staff and the unsettlingly cheerful patrons made it difficult to relax.


    "It''s like if Walt Disney created a whole town and paid everyone to be obnoxiously nice," Pierce commented over the mental chat, observing the comings and goings of the inn with a critical eye.


    "Fantasy Westworld," Flint added, with a low voice.


    "I agree," Ignis chimed in. "There''s something not right here. It''s too perfect, too... sterile."


    "I understand why you picked this place, Ignis," Pierce said, "But I''m not exactly sure what we''re going to get out of it."


    "Watch this," Ignis replied mentally. "Tell me it doesn''t give you the creeps." He then turned to an elven man passing by their table and asked, with feigned innocence, "How do you like living in this city?"


    The elf''s initial expression was one of disdain, quickly replaced by a blank stare, and then, with a jarring shift, a wide, artificial smile spread across his face. "Isn''t it wonderful?" he chirped, his voice devoid of any genuine emotion. "We want for nothing!" He then abruptly turned and walked towards a barstool on the far side of the room, his eyes darting nervously towards the group between sips of his wine and bites of cheese.


    "I swear I saw a skeleton carrying a purse walking behind a shopping woman, just like in that Will Smith movie AI," Evolon commented over the mental link, "but with undead instead of robots."


    A skeletal server silently delivered five glasses of red wine to the group, placing each one in front of a party member with unnerving precision. A minute later, a full-figured woman in her thirties, with long black hair and fashionable glasses, arrived with their "second breakfast" feast, serving it family style without a word. As Pierce lifted the silver dome from a large platter of scrambled eggs, he noticed a small, rolled-up piece of paper tucked discreetly beneath the lip of the white ceramic plate. With a practiced sleight of hand, he palmed the paper and slipped it into his inventory. He then pulled up his inventory screen and eagerly read the note through its item description.


    Human Resistance from Earth. Clock Tower, Red Door, Midnight.


    "Guys, I have an idea on what we need to do next," Pierce announced over the group chat, his voice laced with intrigue as he skimmed the contents of the note. "Grok, can you get us 3 rooms for the night?"


    "I think we should split up," Evolon suggested, her mind already formulating a plan. "Recon the area, check out some shops... If anyone is watching, we''ll confuse the hell out of them with our actions. Then, we sneak out tonight to meet up with this resistance."


    "This is so exciting!" Flint exclaimed, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "I get to be Chewy this time!"


    "Nope!" Ignis retorted playfully. "You were Chewbacca last time we played a Star Wars TTRPG. It''s my turn!"


    "You make a solid argument," Flint countered, a mischievous glint in his eye, "but you forget one important detail. I called it."


    "Fine," Ignis conceded with a dramatic sigh. "But I get to be the badass princess."


    "Next stop is a salon," Evolon declared, a massive grin spreading across her face. "You are so getting the ear buns." She paused, then added with mock seriousness, "And I get to be R2-D2."


    "You get to be the deus ex machina with memories that come and go randomly... got it," Pierce quipped, joining in the playful banter.


    "What role can Grok play?" Grok inquired, her voice laced with curiosity. "I never understand your... Reindeer Games."


    "You, my friend, get to be my gruff scoundrel smuggler friend with a heart of gold!" Ignis declared with a hearty laugh. "And it''s a Role-Playing Game, Grok. Reindeer are Santa Claus''s magical flying horses."


    "How can the heart pump blood if it is made of gold?" Grok questioned, her literal mind struggling to grasp the metaphor. She had long since given up on expecting a sensible answer from this group of eccentrics.


    "Ok, we split up," Pierce interjected, steering the conversation back on track. "I have some new enchanted items for everyone that will help." He pulled five simple silver rings from his inventory, placing one on his own ring finger. "These have a Greater Invisibility enchantment on them that lasts for over an hour. Normal Invisibility won''t hide you from undead for some reason, but Greater Invisibility does. There''s also a minor Silence enchantment that should mask small sounds like footsteps on stone, but nothing louder than a light whisper."


    "Where does he get those wonderful toys?" Evolon cackled, as she slipped the ring onto her finger, another minor enchantment ensuring a perfect fit.


    "My Precious!" Flint exclaimed in a raspy voice, claiming his ring.


    "I will take the Ring to Mordor... Though I do not know the way," Ignis intoned dramatically, gazing at his ring with mock reverence before sliding it onto his finger.


    "This is a wonderfully powerful artifact," Grok declared, examining her ring with a critical eye, "but Grok does not wish to be married to a puny human." With a shrug, she placed the ring on her thumb.


    "Okay, everyone have fun shopping, check out the clock tower, and meet back here for dinner," Pierce instructed, laying out the plan for the day. "Stay out of trouble and try not to use your magic. Just call over the mental chat if you need anything." He drained his wine glass, placed four gold coins on the table, and exited the inn, eager to continue his search for more fascinating enchanted items.

 Though we face despair in the face of our enemy, we must resist!

    Chapter 28


    The party returned to the Prancing Pony later that day, their inventories overflowing with an eclectic assortment of goods. Baked goods, raw meats, enchanted gadgets, backup gear ¨C if it caught their eye and seemed remotely useful or interesting, they bought it. Despite their extravagant spree, the surprisingly low prices in the city meant they had only spent a few hundred gold pieces each. Reconvening in the tavern, the five adventurers settled in for a hearty meal of stew and freshly baked baguettes, a welcome change from the endless parade of exotic delicacies they''d sampled throughout the day. A comfortable silence settled over them as they ate, each lost in their own thoughts.


    "I never thought I''d say this," Evolon finally declared, breaking the silence just before taking a massive bite of her crusty bread, "but I am sick of shopping."


    "It''s not the shopping," Flint countered, spearing a hefty chunk of stew meat with his fork. "It''s the standing. Why don''t they have chairs in those shops where people are trying on clothes for hours?"


    "The problem is choice overload," Pierce explained, his analytical mind dissecting their shared experience. "It''s like going to a huge buffet. You first seek out your favorite foods, but after that, you can''t make a decision on the rest. And trying new things often leads to not liking them as much as your first choices."


    The group nodded in agreement, their earlier enthusiasm for the endless array of goods now replaced with a sense of weary satiation. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the city for the second time that day, they retired to their three rooms. Evolon and Grok shared one, Ignis and Flint another, and Pierce, the champion snorer of the group, was relegated to his own.


    Four hours later, Grok roused her companions. She had summoned a tiger to stand guard in each room, their menacing forms patrolling restlessly throughout the night. Now, as the appointed hour approached, she reabsorbed her feline guardians, and the five adventurers slipped their invisibility rings onto their fingers. They exited their rooms, their footsteps silent on the wooden plank floor, and descended the inn''s stairs, emerging onto the deserted streets of Doombringer.


    While the human inhabitants slumbered peacefully, the skeletal workforce continued its tireless efforts. Dozens of skeletal laborers levitated crates, cages, and pallets through the city towards the import/export warehouse near the portal hub. Other lanes of skeletal traffic ferried an endless stream of fruits, vegetables, livestock, and other foodstuffs throughout the city, ensuring the markets would be fully stocked come morning. The adventurers, shrouded in invisibility and silence, easily navigated the skeletal traffic, their eyes fixed on the looming silhouette of the clock tower in the distance.


    "It''s like Big Ben," Evolon mused over the mental chat, "but the size of the Burj Khalifa."


    "I''ve been to Dubai," Ignis replied. "This is much larger in both length and width, and a solid square all the way up, like the World Trade Center. Magic construction really is something else."


    "The enchantments almost blind me every time I look at the foundation of these huge buildings," Pierce added, his voice filled with awe. "So many strengthening, weight reduction, and shielding enchantments are woven together in a helix, like super-tiny rune DNA. It''s in every brick and block of the building. You could drop a nuke on this city, and the structures would laugh it off. The living beings, on the other hand..." His voice trailed off, the unspoken implication hanging heavy in the air.


    As they approached the impossibly tall clock tower, the group easily located the red door they had each scouted earlier in the day. A faint arrow, drawn in thin white chalk, pointed to the right of the door. Several feet away, a large X was drawn with chalk on the sidewalk. Following the "X marks the spot" instructions, they positioned themselves on the X, but nothing happened. Then, as the clock tower''s arms struck midnight, the cobblestones beneath their feet sank slightly, revealing a set of stairs leading down into the darkness beneath the sidewalk. The stairs turned left, continuing beneath the imposing foundation of the clock tower.


    Before venturing down the dimly lit passage, each party member, except Evolon, who had night vision enchanted on her vambraces, retrieved an item from their inventory that granted them the ability to see in the dark.


    "Okay, so now I see why we should all enchant our combat gear with the same utility enchantments, rather than just one person having each one," Evolon commented over the mental chat, a hint of impatience in her voice as she waited for her companions to equip their night vision gear. "Could you imagine having to do this every time something like this comes up?"


    "I''m still in favor of a wide spread of enchantments, with one member of the party alerting us when a specific one is needed," Pierce countered, defending his strategy for utilizing his enchantment duplication abilities. "There are only so many items we can wear, and many more enchantments available. In a pinch, I could also cast a spell for many of them that covers all five of us."


    With their vision enhanced, the group descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing softly in the confined space. The air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth and something... else. A mix of Metallic smells and oil based lubricants hung in the air.


    "I almost forgot about the walking cheat code over here," Ignis grumbled over the group chat, remembering past TTRPG campaigns where, as Dungeon Master, he had meticulously crafted intricate storylines and challenging encounters, only to have Pierce the effortlessly bypass them with his uncanny ability to exploit loopholes and uncover hidden solutions barely within the rules of the game.


    "My only complaint about that," Flint chimed in, "is that he often skipped some juicy fights! I just want to smash things!"


    "Brains bash better than brawn, sometimes," Grok added, surprising the others by voicing her opinion. With each passing day, she felt more and more like a valued member of the group, her confidence growing alongside her newfound sense of belonging.


    The group proceeded down the dimly lit staircase. After turning left, the stone steps ascended back to street level, the entrance seamlessly sealing shut behind them. They deactivated their invisibility rings, no longer needing them in the secluded passage. As they continued down the narrow hallway beneath the clock tower, the air vibrated with the rhythmic churning of gears and springs of all sizes. Some whirred continuously, while others moved in fits and starts, their varying speeds and cadences creating an oddly mesmerizing symphony of mechanical sounds.


    At the end of the hallway stood a sturdy wooden door with a smaller door at eye level. Flint, leading the way as always, stepped forward and rapped out the familiar "shave and a haircut" knock. A moment of tense silence followed, then the correct response came from within. The smaller door creaked open, revealing a pair of startlingly grey eyes peering out at them.


    "Were you followed?" a hushed voice whispered through the opening.


    "Hard to follow someone under an Invisibility spell," Flint whispered back with a wry grin.


    The small door closed, plunging them back into tense silence. Thirty long seconds ticked by, the only sound the relentless churning of the clock tower''s inner workings. Then, with a series of metallic clicks and clanks, several latches disengaged, the sounds masked by the grinding of gears. The large door slowly swung inward, revealing a woman in her forties, her grey hair pulled back in a severe bun, a flour-dusted red apron covering her simple grey dress.


    "Enter quickly," she commanded in a hushed tone, ushering them into a small, candlelit room before securing the door with four heavy latches. "Please stow all enchanted items," she requested, her gaze sweeping over the group. "We initially believed those were their surveillance systems. While we now know it''s the Skeletons, you can never be too careful."


    The group readily complied, transferring their enchanted gear into their inventories with practiced ease. The woman''s eyes widened in surprise. "You all have an inventory?" she whispered, her voice laced with disbelief. "How did humans from Earth, and an orc, all obtain this in such a short time?" She gestured for them to follow, leading them through a labyrinth of dark hallways lit by flickering torches.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Our secrets are ours to keep, just as yours are for you to keep," Pierce replied cryptically, unwilling to reveal the source of their abilities until he could assess the trustworthiness of the resistance.


    They emerged into a large chamber dominated by a complex network of gears, their ceaseless motion filling the room with a cacophony of whirring and clanking. Pendulums swung rhythmically along one wall, their hypnotic movements adding to the surreal atmosphere. In the center of the room stood ten humans, their faces etched with exhaustion and worry.


    "Who was the first man on the moon?" a tall man in the center of the group asked, his voice sharp and suspicious.


    "John Glenn," Pierce replied without missing a beat, "or no one, as it was all a NASA deep fake conspiracy, depending on who you ask." He knew this was a question only someone familiar with Earth''s history and pop culture could answer.


    "What''s with the orc?" the man pressed, nodding towards Grok.


    "She was an invader," Flint explained, stepping forward protectively, "but she realized she was being used by her clan and switched sides. She''s now a member of our adventuring party. She''s proven herself many times in battle, and we all trust her with our lives."


    "We''re here to help," Pierce added, gently steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.


    "Though we face despair in the face of our enemy, we must resist," the woman in the grey dress declared, stepping closer to the resistance leader and taking his hand in hers.


    "First, some news you might not know about," Pierce began, his voice calm and reassuring. "We fought hundreds of orcs on Earth, went through the portal to Dunblag, closed it behind us, and killed most of their portal mages. The invasion is over. There might still be some orcs on Earth, but the army was rallying when we left, and I''m confident the situation is under control now. The orcs were just hired mercenaries by this Doombringer Necromancer, and we intend to pay him a little visit. But first, we need to get all the Earth humans to a safe place. If you can gather them, we can portal them to a rallying point and eventually get them back to Earth."


    Jaws dropped, and gasps filled the room as the humans absorbed this unexpected news.


    "What you say is unbelievable," the leader finally stammered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I cannot gather everyone without some proof."


    Pierce, thought for a second then summoned an armor mannequin from his inventory. With a mental command, he equipped it with a leather breastplate and helmet, then conjured a shimmering laser hanging in the air with a brilliant bright light. "WHOOOM!" he exclaimed, mimicking the sound of a lightsaber as he mentally commanded the floating blade to slice through the mannequin. The cut was precise and devastating, cleaving through armor and mannequin alike, from left shoulder down to right waist. The top half of the figure hung suspended for a moment, defying gravity, before toppling to the floor with a soft thud. Pierce then cast cure and heal spells on the group removing any old ailments and fully restoring them to perfect condition.


    "I think we can handle a few low-level skeletons," Pierce declared with a wink, his confidence radiating through the room.


    The assembled humans, initially wary, now exchanged excited whispers, their faces alight with a newfound hope. After a brief discussion, their leader stepped forward, extending his hand towards Pierce. "Welcome to the resistance," he said, a warm smile replacing his earlier suspicion.


    "May the Force be with us all," Pierce responded, echoing a famous line from his world, eliciting a chuckle from the leader, as they shook hands.


    "Make the call, Anya," the leader instructed the woman with the flour-dusted apron.


    Anya pulled a smartphone from her pocket, powered it on, and swiftly navigated to a messaging app. With practiced efficiency, she typed out a short message and hit send before powering the device off again.


    Pierce, recognizing the telltale signs of a mesh communication network, smiled knowingly. He had encountered similar systems in his work as a network consultant, often employed in situations where oppressive governments had restricted or completely shut down internet access. It was a clever and resourceful solution, and he couldn''t help but admire their ingenuity.


    "Can I see your phone for a moment?" he asked Anya. Several other resistance fighters, seeing their leader''s willingness to comply, also produced their phones. Pierce quickly inscribed a small, intricate rune on each device. With a faint whoosh, mana flowed into the phones, their batteries instantly reaching full charge.


    "You shouldn''t need to power them off anymore," Pierce explained, handing the phones back to their astonished owners. "Free power, as long as the mana density is high enough around you."


    A wave of shock and amazement washed over the group. This was beyond anything they had imagined.


    "When we get back home," a short man with thick-rimmed glasses ventured, his voice hesitant, "could you work with our developer group? We have a small group from IT and the development team who were... well, grabbed from meetings on the campus. They''ve been trying to incorporate magic into code and devices, but with no success so far. Your expertise would really give them a boost."


    Pierce, recognizing the man''s nervous demeanor and characteristically cautious phrasing, couldn''t help but smile. "Let me guess," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "You''re a project manager for the Walmart application or IT team?"


    "Wha-?" the man sputtered, taken aback, before shrinking back slightly.


    "I''m a network consultant," Pierce explained. "I work with your NOC all the time. And while I don''t recognize you personally, I''ve sat in far too many meetings with project managers not to recognize the personality traits that make you good at your job. Being able to translate geek to executive buzzwords is a skill few can master."


    The project manager, his initial apprehension replaced with a flicker of recognition, nodded slowly. "You''re right," he admitted. "It''s... a gift, I suppose."


    "They are all on the way," the leader of the resistance explained, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the chamber. "We found a network of corridors and tunnels beneath the city that are rarely used anymore. Our people have been moving around, doing their jobs, just enough to not arouse any suspicion."


    "Like the Utilidors under Disney World?" Pierce exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with childlike excitement. "I''ve always wanted to see those!"


    A short woman in a crisp business suit chuckled. "I flew out to meet some Imagineers several months back," she shared, her voice filled with fond memories. "We were working on a toy line for a movie release next year, and they gave us the VIP treatment. We saw Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce with their security detail between meeting Cinderella and riding the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train. Sometimes, when the ride breaks down mid-day, it''s actually because a VIP is getting a private ride. That''s where we got the idea to use these tunnels."


    As the party waited in the cacophony of the clockwork room, small groups of humans emerged from hidden doorways and passages, converging in the center of the chamber. The crowd slowly grew, a collection of weary faces and hopeful eyes, until they numbered roughly one hundred.


    "This is all that is left of our group," the leader said, his voice heavy with sadness. "All who resisted openly were taken to the castle, never to be seen again. We started with almost three hundred."


    "Don''t think about that now," Pierce reassured him, his voice firm and resolute. "They made their choices, and you did what you could to keep your people safe. We will get you back home and find out what we can about the others."


    Ignis stepped forward, his hands glowing with arcane energy. With a practiced incantation, he tore a rift in the fabric of reality, conjuring a shimmering portal that pulsed with vibrant hues of blue and green. Through the swirling vortex, they could see the familiar, comforting sight of their hideout in Dunblag.


    The captive humans hesitated, their fear momentarily outweighing their hope. Then, the leader, with a deep breath and a determined glint in his eye, stepped towards the portal. With each stride, his confidence grew, and as he vanished through the shimmering gateway, the others followed, their apprehension replaced with a surge of adrenaline. The room slowly emptied, the trickle of escapees becoming a steady stream.


    But as the last few stragglers remained, frozen by fear, a thunderous BANG echoed through the chamber. A heavy door burst open, splintering into fragments, and a horde of skeletal warriors poured into the room. Panic erupted, the remaining humans scrambling towards the portal, their fear now a powerful motivator. Ignis, sensing the imminent danger, closed the portal just as the last human stumbled through.


    The five adventurers stood back-to-back, forming a tight circle in the center of the room. Skeletal warriors, clad in a mismatched assortment of metal and leather armor, filled every available space. They wielded an array of weapons ¨C swords, daggers, hammers, bows, and shields ¨C their skeletal hands gripping them with surprising strength. The only commonality amongst the undead soldiers was the gleaming amber gem protruding from their foreheads, embedded in their metal helmets.


    The party braced for battle, equipping their gear, drawing their weapons, and preparing spells. The only sounds were the cacophony of the clock tower''s gears and the soft rasp of bone against stone as the skeletons shuffled into position.


    "That''s it," Flint growled, his patience wearing thin. "I''m sick of waiting." With a roar, he charged forward, his shield raised and his hammer whistling through the air. He slammed into the nearest skeleton with a devastating overhand strike, crushing its helmet, skull, spine, and pelvis into a small pile of dust on the stone floor in front of him.


    For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, with a cacophony of rattling bones and scraping metal, all hell broke loose.

 this hammer is getting mighty heavy

    Chapter 29


    Pierce began by casting Boon on the party, bolstering their health points, mana reserves, and regeneration rates for both. He then conjured two beams of light, positioning them in a neck-high arc around half of the group, effectively creating a protective barrier on their flank. Flint, at the forefront, swung his hammer in a wide arc, shattering five skeletons with a single blow. He followed up with a powerful shield bash, crushing bone and pushing back a dozen more skeletons, sending them sprawling.


    Evolon, with a moment''s forethought, retrieved a newly enchanted bow from her pack¡ªa weapon Pierce had imbued with magic earlier that day. This bow allowed her to conjure arrows from mana, saving her precious fletched arrows and, more importantly, her irreplaceable hunting arrows from home. Drawing the bowstring, she summoned an arrow of pure mana and aimed at the first skull she saw. The arrow pierced the skull, causing the skeleton to explode into a puff of dust. To her amazement, the mana arrow continued through the line of skeletons, also obliterating twenty more at the same height. A lone, shorter skeleton and two taller ones remained standing in the row before her. She nocked another mana arrow, settling in for some target practice.


    Ignis unleashed a Fireblast at a group of skeletons directly in front of him, but the spell had no visible effect. Switching tactics, he cast Ice Blast, creating an arc of frigid air around his side of the formation. The skeletons that attempted to advance across the icy ground immediately slipped and fell prone, unable to regain their footing.


    Grok summoned her three tigers, commanding them to crush the skulls of any crawling or decapitated skeletons that reached the party¡¯s perimeter. She then positioned herself near Evolon, careful not to interfere with the hunter''s line of fire, and used her sword to dispatch any remaining skeletons that Evolon¡¯s piercing arrows missed.


    After the first thirty minutes of relentless combat, with skeletons pouring in through the four doorways to replace those they felled, Ignis called for a brief respite and cast Time Stop. Each party member retrieved a drink or snack from their inventory, taking a moment to rest their limbs and minds. The ten-second break, though brief, was a welcome reprieve. When time resumed, the undead horde pressed on, relentlessly attempting to overwhelm the adventurers. The battle continued, a chaotic ballet of death and defiance. The adventurers fought with desperate intensity, their movements and skills honed with each passing second. Pierce maintained his protective arc of light, healing his companions and bolstering their strength whenever they faltered. Evolon¡¯s arrows continued to find their marks, thinning the ranks of the undead with deadly precision. Flint, a tireless engine of destruction, smashed and bashed as the horde advanced ceaselessly. Ignis, his control over the ice expanding to encompass half the room, carefully avoided icing any skeletons that approached his companions, knowing it would interfere with their attacks and traps. Grok eliminated any stragglers that slipped through the party¡¯s defenses, her three tigers calmly crunching skulls, their jaws snapping loudly amidst the ticking and whirring of the clockwork mechanisms in the room.


    Hours passed, each one a grueling test of endurance. The adventurers fought on, their bodies weary, their minds numbed by the relentless onslaught. The initial excitement of the battle a distant memory. The constant need to defend and attack took its toll, draining their reserves of mana and stamina. Pierce¡¯s movements slowed, the constant concentration required to maintain the protective light beams began to strain his mind. Evolon¡¯s arrows flew less frequently, her aim slightly off, resulting in only half the skeletons in her line of sight being felled. Flint¡¯s swings grew heavy, and he requested that Ignis create a larger arc of ice around the party, essentially leaving only a small opening for the advancing skeletons. Evolon fired arrows just over his head, thinning the approaching crowd. Ignis stood sweating, a throbbing headache building from the prolonged focus required to maintain such a large area of ice. Grok, however, seemed as sharp and poised as ever, her tigers lazily dispatching skulls with their usual gruesome efficiency.


    The relentless tide of undead showed no signs of abating. The Time Stop breaks became more frequent, until Ignis finally exhausted his mana reserves, eliminating their brief reprieves from the monotonous grind of battle. The party¡¯s hope for victory and vengeance dwindled with each passing moment. Knowing they couldn''t sustain this forever, Pierce communicated their backup plan.


    "Ignis," Pierce said between panting exhalations and deep breaths, "keep enough mana in reserve for a single portal. If I call it, we leave and come back to fight another day."


    The battle suddenly reached a critical juncture. The party found themselves huddled together on a small island amidst a sea of bone and dust, surrounded on all sides. The relentless pressure of the undead horde threatened to overwhelm them. Pierce, his face pale with exhaustion, cast a healing spell on Flint just as the smaller man slipped on a pool of his own blood and fell to one knee. As the party braced for their inevitable doom, the healing spell sailed over Flint¡¯s head and struck the approaching skeletons. The unexpected surge of life force overloaded the nearest undead, causing it to explode in a shower of dust. But the anomaly didn''t end there. Pierce¡¯s Overhealth and Spell Cascade perks combined to create a chain reaction. A wave of life energy spread exponentially through the tightly packed skeletons, each undead body becoming a conduit for the overwhelming force. Within seconds, every skeleton in the chamber had been eradicated, leaving the adventurers standing in stunned silence nothing but bone dust and shattered armor on the floor. For a full ten seconds, they could only stare in disbelief as fresh skeletons slowly filed in through the doorways, their numbers still overwhelming, but the immediate threat temporarily neutralized. This brief respite, born from an accidental miracle, offered a flicker of hope and a precious moment to catch their breath, as their bodies and minds screamed for rest.


    Pierce, his voice hoarse but filled with a newfound determination, broke the silence. "Did you see that? We just wiped out hundreds of undead with a single healing spell!" He gestured toward the slowly replenishing ranks of skeletons, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Fight or flee, everyone votes now," he asked, taking a long drink of cold water from his canteen.


    "I''m not one to back down," Flint said, leaning against his hammer like a cane, "but this hammer is getting mighty heavy."


    "I can''t keep up this pace much longer," Evolon said, massaging her twitching biceps. "To conserve mana, I''ve already cut my rate of fire in half."


    "I say we portal out," Ignis said, his eyes closed in a meditative pose. "Get the humans back to Earth, have a good night''s rest and a good meal, then come back buffed to hell and back and finish this guy off properly."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Grok does not wish to retreat," Grok said, lying among her tigers and petting them affectionately, "but we did give our word to your Earth humans, and our glorious death here on this battlefield would mean breaking that oath."


    "Ignis, get us out of here," Pierce decided.


    "One portal to Dunblag, coming up!" Ignis said, draining the last of his mana to cast the spell. "I''m going to overlay it on top of the previous portal so a skilled portal master can''t follow as easily."


    The party slowly moved through the portal, emerging onto an empty rooftop overlooking the Dunblag fish market. Ignis immediately closed the portal behind them. The group dove into the harbor waters before swimming a short distance to a dark alleyway, working their way through the shadows to ensure they weren''t followed to their hideout. Once they arrived and opened the hidden door, they were met with a barrage of complaints from the Earthlings, demanding to know why they had taken so long.


    "We fought off the ambush and eventually had to retreat," Pierce said with a lazy wave of his hand, "but looking through the experience logs, I can see we cost the enemy over one hundred thousand skeletons. Ignis, a portal, if you will?"


    "This way, friends," Ignis said, casting his portal spell. A dark, empty cave was visible on the other side.


    Flint, Grok, and Evolon entered the portal first to ensure it was clear of enemies, or to clear it if necessary. Evolon returned through the portal and gave the all-clear signal. The humans filed through, displaying a little more confidence than before and without any complaints or stragglers. Pierce and Ignis brought up the rear, walking through and closing the portal behind them.


    Ignis immediately began studying the residual magic of the previous Earth portal, with Pierce assisting, contributing his knowledge of runes and enchantments. Flint, Grok, and Evolon sat in a small triangle, their eyes drooping with exhaustion. Behind them stood over one hundred confused humans, longing for home. The leader of the resistance approached the three prone party members and inquired about what the two casters were doing.


    "Most portals only lead back to a place where you cast an anchor," Evolon explained between grunts, as Grok massaged her back with her huge orc fist. "Ignis didn''t have that spell when we were on Earth, nor did we have this knowledge back then. He''s exploring a method to retrace the old portal''s steps and get us home."


    "I don''t mean to sound ungrateful," the resistance leader whispered, "but you brought us here without a way to actually get us home?"


    "This is going to be a bit of a shock," Flint said quietly, so as not to disturb Ignis, "but we''re just making this all up as we go. Give him a minute; he''s pretty good at what he does."


    Thirty minutes later, Ignis cast a portal spell in the exact spot of the previous portal. "Because of the length of time the previous portal was open, this should work," Ignis said, shrugging.


    "Now, who''s going through first?" Pierce asked.


    "Enough of this playing around!" Flint exclaimed, wielding his hammer and shield, and stomping through the portal, disappearing to the other side.


    Everyone in the large cavern stood silent for five, ten, fifteen seconds. Just as the group of humans began to lose hope, Flint walked back through, unharmed, with a huge smile on his face and a fresh taco in his hand. "WHO''S READY FOR TACO TUESDAY?!" the short man shouted before turning his head sideways and taking a huge bite out of the crunchy taco.


    The humans rushed past Flint and through the portal towards home. A few seconds later, the party emerged through the portal, Ignis closing it behind him. All around them, in a large circle in the open area of the Wal-Mart Home Office, sat tanks, JLTVs with.50 caliber machine guns mounted on top, hundreds of soldiers, and even a few drones hovering above. All weapons were aimed at where the portal had been, now adjusting their aim to point directly at the party. The incongruity of the scene¡ªheavily armed soldiers juxtaposed with corporate executives enjoying tacos¡ªwas almost surreal.


    "Alien invader!" someone yelled. The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. The relaxed atmosphere vanished, replaced by palpable tension. The soldiers, who had until then maintained a professional distance, reacted as one. Weapons shifted slightly to target Grok, and fingers hovered over triggers. Silence hung in the air.


    Pierce, seeing the immediate danger, acted quickly. He, along with Evolon, Flint, and Ignis, formed a protective circle around Grok, who stood a head or two taller than her party mates, an amused grin on her face. They stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons drawn, ready to defend their friend as Pierce shouted, "Is Sergeant Eugene Cox here?"


    "Hold your fire!" a man with a golden oak leaf on his collar shouted. Pierce noted his name, Riley, stitched on his Army BDUs.


    Unsure of Army ranks, Pierce focused on the man and proclaimed, "Grok is not an invader; she is with us. She fought in many battles and has slain many of her own kind, along with countless undead, to help bring our people home safely. If you don''t believe us, ask the returned employees for confirmation."


    The officer remained unconvinced. "We will interrogate them all," he stated. "And that creature will be detained."


    Pierce¡¯s patience finally snapped. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and the last thing he needed was to deal with bureaucratic red tape and military paranoia. "Absolutely not," he said firmly. "We just fought off an undead army for over two hours. We need rest." Pierce cast a spell he had learned during the last battle, as the entire group had leveled up multiple times in the past few hours.


    A shimmering blue bubble materialized over the party''s heads and extended to the ground in front of them. Almost immediately, all hell broke loose. Tanks, machine guns, and rifles opened fire on their position. The projectiles harmlessly slid off the barely visible shield, landing on the ground with a shower of metallic plinks. A few seconds later, the firing ceased, the smoke cleared, and the party stood untouched before the might of the United States Army.


    The Army officer looked taken aback by the shocking turn of events, now finding himself in a standoff with powerful magical beings. He glanced at the party, their faces etched with weariness but their eyes burning with unwavering resolve. He looked at the rescued humans, many of whom were now being comforted by coworkers and family, their faces a mixture of relief and trauma. He looked at the tanks, soldiers, and Wal-Mart executives now taking cover behind a tank, their tacos littering the ground around the taco truck, well behind the encircling line of troops and vehicles. His face shifted from a hard stare to a calm look of resignation, realizing he was in a situation for which his training had never prepared him.


    "Alright," he said finally, his voice grudging. "We have accommodations available, but," he added, his gaze fixed on Pierce, "this isn''t over. We still have questions."


    "Of course," Pierce nodded. "But those questions can wait until tomorrow."


    The party, along with Grok, was approached by a young soldier, no older than eighteen, and ushered to a small group of white trailers arranged in neat rows, taking up almost all the available space in an otherwise green park. Large, established trees dotted the area every thirty yards, and a small pond with a fountain, spraying water like an aquatic flower, sat in the middle. The party entered a single trailer, their steps heavy with exhaustion, but their minds already planning their return to Doombringer. They knew their mission was far from over, but for now, they desperately needed rest. After agreeing on a watch schedule, most of the party was asleep within minutes of falling into their bunks, still wearing their armor and clutching their weapons.

 The ego on this one, thinking hes Superman

    Chapter 30


    The party awoke to the insistent blare of a trumpet echoing through the makeshift military encampment. Disoriented and stiff from the previous day''s battle, Ignis roused his companions, having been the last to stand watch. Evolon, momentarily yearning for a hot shower, realized with a chuckle that Pierce must have cast Purify on each of them as they slept. A sharp knock echoed from the trailer door, and the group emerged, ready to face whatever the day might bring.


    A soldier, his face a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, escorted them through the bustling camp. Groups of soldiers, four abreast and ten deep, jogged past, in formation and singing cadence songs. The young soldier led them towards a large office building, its glass facade gleaming in the morning sun. They ascended to the top floor, where a spacious conference room offered a breathtaking panorama of the rolling hills and verdant forests of Northwest Arkansas. The group settled around a massive, twenty-five-foot-long conference table, its polished surface reflecting the sunlight streaming through the windows.


    Another soldier entered, depositing five rectangular brown plastic bags, each slightly smaller than a shoebox, onto the table before promptly exiting. Pierce, recognizing the familiar MRE packaging, let out a chuckle. The others, however, simply shrugged and gestured for Ignis to conjure their breakfast. While Ignis set to work, Pierce''s attention was drawn to the table itself. It was a single, magnificent slab of hardwood, likely Redwood sourced from the old-growth forests of the Pacific Northwest. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the wood meticulously sanded and polished to a mirror-like sheen. He imagined the countless hours a skilled artisan had poured into creating this masterpiece, knowing that most would simply see it as an expensive status symbol. The sight of the table, brought a wave of warmth and a sense of homecoming. He thought of his own well-crafted desk back home, a cherished possession always anchoring his thoughts to the world around him.


    "When they come in," Pierce instructed his companions over the mental chat, "stay silent. Keep your faces neutral until I give the word. We''ll let them decide how much we help."


    As they finished their impromptu breakfast, a gruff-looking Army Officer with a silver bird on his collar strode into the room, his expression a blend of impatience and annoyance. "Alright," he barked, his voice echoing through the chamber. "I am Colonel Anderson. Why don''t you start by explaining yourselves?"


    Pierce, sensing the Colonel''s hostility, decided to take charge. "Everyone," he instructed over the mental link, "stow your breakfast." Instantly, plates, cups, and utensils vanished into their inventories. "Before we begin, Colonel Anderson," Pierce said calmly, "I''d like to request the presence of Sergeant Eugene Cox. We met him during the Battle of Bentonville. He can validate many of our claims. Also, if you could bring in the leader of the Resistance ¨C I never got his name ¨C he can corroborate other aspects of our story."


    The Colonel''s eyes widened at the casual display of magic, his frown deepening. "Both of them are unavailable," he stated curtly. "We can validate your statements without them present."


    "Okay," Pierce replied, his tone neutral. "Ask your questions."


    The Colonel scowled, his frustration evident. "Look," he snapped, " You''re unauthorized personnel with unexplained abilities, carrying unregistered weapons, and consorting with an enemy combatant." He pointed a knife hand accusingly at Grok. "That thing is an illegal alien, and I can do with it whatever I damn well please."


    Pierce, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes, calmly inquired, "Do you like comic book movies, Colonel?"


    The Colonel, thrown off balance by the seemingly irrelevant question, sputtered, "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"


    "More than you might realize," Pierce responded, his voice steady and controlled. "You seem to have the situation confused. In one of the newer Superman movies, there''s a scene where Superman allows himself to be handcuffed and taken away by the military. That''s essentially the situation we''re in."


    "The ego on this one," the Colonel muttered under his breath, "thinking he''s Superman."


    "We could leave at any time, Colonel," Pierce continued, his voice unwavering. "There is nothing your military could do to stop us. We have abilities beyond your comprehension. The most powerful military on the planet can''t even scratch us. You may have heard, might even believe, the stories of our offensive power, but I can assure you we''ve only revealed a mere fraction of our capabilities to the returned humans. We''ve already done your job for you, not once, not twice, but three times. We repelled the invasion, we sealed the portals to stop the never-ending flow of troops from stepping onto our planet, and we rescued a large portion of the people who were taken. We''re not done yet, either. We''re headed back to the enemy plant to search for any remaining captives and to bring the fight to the Doombringer himself. We''re doing this for Earth, Colonel, for all of humanity. And as for Grok," Pierce gestured towards his orcish companion, "I include her in that ''we.'' There are US laws regarding foreign interpreters commandeered during battle. She falls squarely within those guidelines. She is not your prisoner, Colonel. She is your esteemed guest, and an ally."


    The Colonel''s face grew redder and redder as Pierce calmly laid out the situation, each point irrefutable. Finally, with a frustrated growl, he slammed his hand on the table and stormed out of the room.


    "Can I make a phone call now before we leave?" Ignis asked over the mental chat, a hint of mischief in his voice.


    "Go for it," Pierce replied with a chuckle, "but remember they''re recording everything we say and do from several angles in this room."


    The party members pulled out their cellphones, their fingers flying across the screens as they dialed loved ones to check in and share the news of their survival. Grok, meanwhile, retrieved her sword and began sharpening it with a practiced hand, the rhythmic rasp of metal against stone filling the silence left by the Colonel''s departure.


    Ignis dialed a number and waited. ¡°Roxy, hey there, I am a friend of Elly''s, I am about to head out of town and just wanted to call and introduce myself.¡± Ignis lowered his voice for the rest of the conversation.


    "I have an idea," Pierce announced over the mental chat. Then, with a mischievous grin, he looked directly at one of the cameras and bellowed, "LAWYER!"


    He dialed his old friend and lawyer, Austin, explaining the situation and requesting his assistance with some urgent legal matters. Thirty minutes later, a slightly disheveled Austin arrived, his suit a size too big and his eyes wide with surprise as he took in the sight of Grok calmly sharpening her sword.


    "Austin, long time no see!" Pierce greeted him with a warm smile.


    "You know I charge double rates for anything involving the military," Austin replied, pushing his glasses up his nose and setting his briefcase on the table.


    "You charge double rates for anything that doesn''t include a meal," Pierce retorted with a laugh.


    "This is not exactly a speeding ticket you''ve gotten yourself into," Austin said, his eyes darting around the room, taking note of the multiple cameras. "So, what exactly can I do for you?"


    Pierce placed a small leather bag on the table, the clinking of coins muffled by the thick leather. He slid it across to Austin. "We could be gone for a bit," he explained. "I need you to set up a trust to take care of our bills, apartments, houses, vehicles, and families. We may be popping in and out, or we could be gone for an extended stay. Is Esmerelda still cleaning your house? Could you get her to clean and stock our places weekly?"


    Austin, a small smile playing on his lips, attempted to lift the pouch with one hand and failed. "Overseas packages for five?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.


    "Just four," Pierce corrected. "We may need some help on the legal front with Grok there, but her home is... well, let''s just say your legal license isn''t valid there." He stood and walked around the table, stopping in front of Austin. Austin extended his hand for a handshake, but Pierce pulled him into a hug. "Friends don''t shake," he said warmly. Then, stepping back, he added, "Oh, I almost forgot." A faint, warm light, a mixture of yellow and blue light, flowed from Pierce''s hand into Austin''s body.


    "What the-?" Austin exclaimed, stumbling slightly as he removed his glasses. "I can see!"


    Pierce grinned. "Consider it a bonus," he said. "And a thank you for being a good friend."


    "Remember back in college, you always said you''d get a good job and get LASIK because glasses never fit your face?" Pierce asked Austin, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I know you''re too busy throwing every dime into savings to ever get it done, so I wanted to help. Also, you need to cut down on the drinking. Your liver was 40% damaged. In a few years, you would have been in trouble."


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Austin, overwhelmed with emotion, simply nodded, speechless. He carefully picked up the bag of gold coins with both hands struggling to placed it inside his briefcase.


    Just then, the Colonel re-entered the room, flanked by two stern-faced soldiers. As he opened his mouth to speak, Austin sprang into action.


    "Do you have a warrant or an executive order to hold my clients?" he demanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. Before anyone could answer, he continued, "Good. They are free to go. Any communication with my clients must flow through me and my office from this point forward."


    The Colonel, momentarily stunned by Austin''s forceful intervention, sputtered, "But-"


    "No buts, Colonel," Austin interrupted, his voice brooking no argument. "My clients have cooperated fully. They have saved this town, and they have rescued those hostages. They are heroes, not criminals. Any further discussion will be made between myself and the United States Government."


    "Does anyone have anything else to do while we''re here?" Pierce asked over the mental chat, turning to his companions.


    "Provisions!" Ignis replied instantly. "I can always come back and do some shopping later, but you never know if we''ll run into an anti-portal field or something crazy like that."


    "Give me the list," Pierce said, holding out his hand. He knew Ignis, already had a comprehensive inventory of necessary supplies.


    Ignis handed him a piece of notebook paper, his handwriting filling the page. Pierce''s eyes widened as he scanned the extensive list. "This may take some time," he remarked.


    "This is Bentonville," Evolon said with a confident grin. "I bet it''s here within the hour."


    "Pierce," Flint asked, his voice laced with impatience, "are we going straight back into the lion''s den?"


    "That''s the plan," Pierce confirmed. "I know Ignis has an anchor near Doombringer''s castle. I think we can get close and work our way through the castle before being bogged down with too many skeletons. And if they do send in the legions, I can just heal them to death."


    "You can finally heal them to death?" Evolon burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation hitting her. Pierce had always maintained that ¡°Healing them to death¡± would never work, but somehow he found a way.


    Pierce, with a wink towards his friends, handed the list to Austin. "We also need this list here," he said to the lawyer, "as quickly as you can possibly get it."


    Austin, unfazed by the sheer volume of the order, simply nodded and slid the list to the Colonel across from him at the table.


    The Colonel, after a cursory glance at the list, passed it to one of his men, who sprinted out of the room without a word. "I''ll see what I can do," the Colonel said, his voice gruff but accommodating. "But we need more information before we can officially sanction any further actions."


    Pierce, ignoring the Colonel, continued his conversation with his friends over the mental chat. "Those two are going to be busy for a bit," he remarked. "What kind of gains did everyone get from yesterday''s marathon battle?" He pulled up his status page and shared the highlights. "I got eight levels, all the way up to level twenty now. I balanced out all of my base stats to twelve, with Strength the lone one at thirteen. At level fifteen, I got a perk called ''Calm Mind'' that allows me to heal mental trauma and give a calming effect. At twenty, I got ''Multiple healing,'' which allows me to turn any single-target heal spell into a party heal for double the mana cost, and area-of-effect to friendlies for triple the cost. For spells, you saw ''Major Barrier'' yesterday, which creates a stationary, impenetrable barrier that no spell or object can pierce. I also got ''Regeneration,'' which heals my target for a smaller amount of health over a longer period. Its mana cost is half of my normal heal, and in the end, it heals five times the normal amount of health. I was using it towards the end of yesterday''s battle, but I''m not sure if you noticed."


    "I''m level 19," Evolon reported over the mental chat, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Most of my in Dexterity, but spread some out into Strength and Stamina after yesterday''s example of why dumping everything into one stat might not be the best idea. At fifteen, I got a class perk that allows me to easily find traps. I also got a ''Triple Arrow'' spell that splits a single arrow into three when firing."


    "Level 19 here, too," Flint added, "Added Strength, Dexterity, Stamina, and Constitution after yesterday''s debacle. My level 15 boon is ''Health Link,'' where I can choose a target, and any damage done to them is split between the two of us. My level 15 spell is ''Retaliation,'' where I reflect incoming damage back to the attacker." He punctuated his update with a long sip of his Peach Monster energy drink, his feet still propped up on the pristine conference table.


    "Level 19, like the others," Ignis chimed in. "You know, that early start you got is still screwing us over." He paused for a moment, then continued, "I spread points around like everyone else. My fifteen boon is recovering mana for every slain enemy. I wonder if that''s group-wide or just my kills. My fifteen spell is ''Lightning Bolt,'' which can chain through enemies, something like Pierce''s heal spell. I didn''t use it yesterday because we were in a metal room, and I''m not sure how it works yet."


    "Level 19," Grok reported, her voice steady and confident. "Spread out my points. At fifteen, I got ''Shared Senses,'' so I can see, smell, and hear through any of my beasts. My fifteen spell is ''Beast Endurance,'' where my stamina is raised, increasing with every beast I have summoned."


    "Nice," Pierce said, his voice filled with approval. "All of this should help with our upcoming battles."


    Just then, the Colonel cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "We require your clients to take a member of the military with them," he stated firmly, "to ensure the alien is not hostile."


    "Absolutely not," Ignis retorted, interrupting the Colonel before Austin could respond. "No offense, but your man would be squished to applesauce within seconds of the fight starting. Look, I''m the weakest member of this group, and I nearly had my arm cut off yesterday."


    "I can assure you my men are up to the task," the Colonel insisted, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance.


    "Does Barkley here have a blade on him?" Ignis asked, gesturing towards one of the soldiers flanking the Colonel. "Barkley," Ignis continued, standing and dramatically removing his robe to expose his arm, "come over here and try to cut my arm."


    With a nod from the Colonel, Barkley approached, drawing a long, combat knife from a sheath strapped to his vest. A cruel smile spread across his face as he lunged towards Ignis. The smile quickly morphed into an expression of shock as the blade met Ignis''s arm. It barely pierced the skin, leaving a shallow cut no deeper than a paper cut, not even drawing a single drop of blood. Austin''s and the Colonel''s jaws dropped in unison.


    "Yesterday, we killed over a hundred thousand enemies," Ignis explained calmly, returning to his seat. "One almost sliced my arm clean off, and another ripped Flint''s arm from its socket."


    "No offense to your men and their training, Colonel," Pierce added, "but the orcish mercenaries you encountered here on Earth were literally the lowest-level and cheapest invasion force in the known galaxy. What we''re facing is an endless skeleton army commanded by intelligent spellcasters that your bullets and blades wouldn''t even scratch. Taking one of your men with us would be like bringing a toddler to a gunfight. The definition of a liability in combat."


    The Colonel, his face pale, sputtered, "Then give us the magic you wield!"


    "There is no more of this magic left on Earth, Colonel," Pierce stated firmly, "and be glad for that, or the invasions would never stop until the planet is enslaved and stripped bare. What we have cannot be taught or traded."


    The second military guard re-entered the room, whispering something into the Colonel''s ear before taking a seat beside him. "We have your list of demands," the Colonel announced, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance, "but..."


    "Great!" Pierce exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Take us to them, and we can be on our way." The group rose and followed the Colonel out of the conference room, down the hallway towards the elevator.


    "We are not done here," the Colonel insisted, his facade of authority cracking.


    "We are not done here," Austin agreed, gesturing towards the departing adventurers, "but they are."


    The five party members stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. "Sorry, Colonel," Pierce said with a mischievous grin, "this one''s full." He pressed the ''close door'' button, leaving the Colonel and his guards standing speechless in the hallway.


    The group exited the building and strode towards a large Walmart truck parked in the street, its rear doors wide open. Ignis hopped into the back, and within seconds, the pallets of supplies vanished into his inventory. He hopped back out, leaving a bewildered truck driver staring at the now-empty cargo space. Ignis approached the driver, signed the bill of lading, and gave him a friendly pat on the back.


    With their supplies secured, the group moved with superhuman speed towards the portal area in the central square. "Does anyone else see that?" Pierce asked over the mental chat, his voice laced with concern.


    "With heat vision, I see something," Ignis replied, "but it''s invisible to my normal eyes."


    "Stand down!" Pierce shouted to the hundreds of soldiers still encircling the portal site. "You''re about to see some crazy shit. Just understand, this is not an aggressive act towards anyone here."


    "At least I get to test the range on this spell," Pierce muttered to his friends as he summoned a shimmering line of light and directed it to shoot upwards into the sky. At about two hundred feet, a six-foot orb shimmered into view, neatly bisected. The two halves plummeted downwards, and Pierce, with a casual display of superhuman strength, caught them effortlessly. The exposed core of the orb pulsed with a mesmerizing light, layers of color shifting and swirling like an RGB gaming computer, but arranged in concentric circles like a cross-section of the Earth, reminiscent of the educational diagrams Pierce remembered from elementary school. Then, with a subtle gesture, the two halves vanished into his inventory, leaving the onlookers awestruck.


    "Ignis, got any food for us? Grok, any potions?" Pierce asked, preparing to buff his party with every advantage he could muster.


    After consuming a few bites of high-quality snacks and downing a potent potion each, the party vanished, their invisibility rings rendering them completely undetectable. Ignis, with a practiced flick of his wrist, opened a portal directly to Doombringer''s castle. The group swiftly stepped through the shimmering gateway, closing it behind them before any of the soldiers could react.


    They materialized within the opulent courtyard of Doombringer''s castle, the air thick with the scent of decay and dark magic. The final confrontation at hand.

 Were going to burn this place to the ground

    Chapter 31


    The party materialized in a dimly lit courtyard, the imposing silhouette of Doombringer''s white stone castle looming over them. "Split up, find us an easy way in, and stay stealthy," Pierce whispered over the mental chat, his voice barely audible.


    "YOU DON''T HAVE TO WHISPER, YOU KNOW!" Flint boomed back playfully, his mental voice echoing through their minds.


    Pierce, with a mental eye roll, began his reconnaissance, circling the castle''s perimeter clockwise. He carefully navigated a flowerbed bursting with pale yellow blooms, his keen eyes scanning the walls for any signs of weakness. A third of the way around, he discovered a wide, unguarded staircase leading to a set of imposing wooden double doors. No obvious locks or guards hindered his progress. With a gentle push, he slipped through the left door, silently closing it behind him.


    "I''m checking out a cellar door roughly a third of the way clockwise around the base of the castle from where we started," Pierce reported to the group. "Ten-foot-wide white marble stairs leading down about twelve feet to a set of double doors with no lock. I''m inside, waiting for my eyes to adjust."


    "Front door here has fifty skeleton guards," Grok announced, her voice laced with disdain, "and groups of over a hundred roaming squads on the main floor. Not exactly a welcoming committee."


    "I climbed through an open window into a library," Evolon chimed in, her voice tinged with excitement. "Stealing any spell scrolls and cool magic books I find. And yes, Ignis, I''ll grab any cookbooks or books on magical food."


    "Found the armory," Flint grumbled, "but it''s all low-level crap the skeletons use. Nothing worth risking a noise complaint for."


    "I found the kitchen," Ignis reported, "nothing interesting, just a bunch of skeletons doing prep work for a meal. It seems they can only be given extremely basic commands like ''peel potatoes,'' ''place peels here,'' ''place peeled potatoes there.'' There must be a chef with a real brain somewhere, but I can''t find him."


    Pierce, his vision enhanced by his night sight enchantment, surveyed the vast chamber he had entered. It stretched at least a hundred feet in each direction, its massive stone pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling lost in the shadows above. No light sources illuminated the space, but row upon row of four-foot-tall wooden crates filled his vision, stacked nearly to the ceiling. Finding a corner where the crates were arranged in a climbable configuration, he ascended to the top, gaining a better vantage point. The basement warehouse was nearly full, stretching into the distance, where faint light revealed skeletal workers moving hover pallets with practiced efficiency.


    "Guys, come to the basement," Pierce instructed his companions. "It seems to be a warehouse down here. Reminds me of the warehouse they left the Arc in. I don''t see any guards. I think this is the best way in. Look for the gold coin on the ground." He placed a single gold coin at the base of his crate stack, marking his location for the others.


    "You know, being invisible is nice and all," Flint grumbled as he navigated the maze of crates, "but not being able to see the rest of you is a problem."


    "We can split up when we get together and use gold coins to mark our rally point," Pierce suggested, mentally reviewing his inventory for a better solution but coming up empty.


    Once everyone had arrived at the rally point, Pierce retrieved his coin, and they proceeded deeper into the warehouse. They easily slipped past the oblivious skeletal workers, their invisibility rendering them undetectable. The first large chamber devoid of activity seemed promising.


    "Going right into this chamber with the large copper thing in the middle," Pierce announced.


    This room was well-lit, revealing a massive copper cauldron bubbling over a roaring fire. Wooden ramps led up to the rim of the cauldron on one side, and steps descended into the churning water on the other, forming a continuous loop.


    "Boiling the bones," Ignis observed grimly.


    "This must be where they bring the corpses," Pierce deduced, tossing an uneaten piece of a Snickers bar into the pot. "The water is quite acidic. I bet you''re right, they boil the bones and animate the skeletons to march out the other side." He recalled the necromancers'' debate back at the party, their arguments about the merits of different undead minions now taking on a chilling new significance.


    "Is it weird that I kinda want to jump in to see if it''s like a hot tub?" Evolon joked, attempting to lighten the mood.


    "I would heal you," Pierce replied, shaking his head, "but I''m sure it wouldn''t be pleasant." He then realized, with a mental facepalm, that his companions couldn''t see his gestures.


    "I''ve seen enough here," Flint declared, his voice somber. "Let''s hope it''s only for corpses and not living beings."


    The group continued their exploration, splitting up and reuniting at designated rally points, but finding nothing of particular interest. After what felt like hours of tense maneuvering, they stumbled upon a small spiral staircase descending into a cold, foggy abyss. As they cautiously descended, the metallic clanging grew louder, drawing them onward. They emerged into a vast chamber, its scale dwarfing even the massive warehouse above.


    Before them sprawled a scene that defied their expectations ¨C a sprawling factory, its floor a dizzying labyrinth of conveyor belts and crude machinery. Skeletal workers, their movements eerily synchronized, tirelessly operated the complex contraptions. The skeletons stamping metal into intricate shapes and sorting the refined components from the scrap. It was a mesmerizing ballet of industry, but one performed by an army of the undead.


    "I toured a Tesla factory once," Evolon commented, her voice echoing through the mental link. "If you replaced the skeletons with robots, it would look exactly like this."


    "I don''t think they''re making electric vehicles down there," Ignis replied, his tone laced with a grim humor.


    Intrigued, the party moved closer, their invisibility allowing them to observe the factory''s intricate workings without being detected. They watched as raw ore was fed into massive furnaces, molten metal poured into molds, and intricate components created with meticulous precision. Following a branching conveyor belt, they arrived at a closed-off room. They easily bypassed the two skeletal guards posted outside, slipping through the doorway and into the dimly lit space. The air hung heavy with the scent of metallic dust and the rhythmic clang of machinery. Rounding a corner, they were met with a sight that chilled them to the bone.


    Instead of the endless rows of skeletal workers they had come to expect, they found a group of humans, their faces gaunt and pale, their eyes hollow with exhaustion. Over a hundred men and women hunched over workbenches, their trembling fingers meticulously tracing a single rune onto small components through stencils. Each finished part moved down the conveyor belt to the next station, where another rune would be etched onto its surface. A smaller chamber off to the side revealed more humans, sprawled on bunks, makeshift bedrolls, and even the cold stone floor. Their bodies twitched and shuddered in their sleep, haunted by exhaustion and despair.


    The atmosphere in this section of the factory was heavy, not just with the metallic tang of industry, but with a palpable sense of despair. The humans moved with a listless lethargy, their actions mechanical and devoid of any thought. A handful of skeletal archers stood watch on raised walkways, their empty sockets fixed on the workers, ensuring no one dared to defy their silent overlords.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Evolon," Pierce''s voice spoke through the mental link, raw with barely contained fury, "take out the trash." He wiped an angry tear from his invisible cheek.


    With a surge of righteous anger, Evolon unleashed a volley of arrows. Each shaft found its mark with deadly accuracy, piercing the eye sockets of the skeletal archers and exploding them in quick succession into clouds of dust. The humans, startled by the sudden commotion and the rain of bone fragments, looked up in confusion and fear.


    "Flint and Grok," Pierce commanded, his voice cold and sharp, "guard the entrance."


    With that, Pierce, Ignis, and Evolon deactivated their invisibility cloaks, appearing as if from thin air. "Don''t be alarmed!" Pierce announced, forcing a calming tone into his voice. "We''re from Earth, and we''re here to help."


    A wave of hesitant relief washed over the faces of the captives. A young woman, her eyes filled with a desperate hope, stepped forward. "I''m Sarah," she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse. "They don''t let us speak." Tears streamed down her cheeks, tracing paths through the grime that coated her face.


    "David," a man near her offered, his voice trembling. "They said it was a gift," he explained, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "They would teach us magic, but only if we used it to create for them."


    "Things were good at first," Sarah continued, her voice gaining strength. "Until... until we noticed that the more we enchant, the weaker we become. It''s like... it''s draining our life force." She gazed down at her trembling hand, the finger that had traced countless runes, once youthful, now frail.


    A younger man, barely out of his teens, cautiously approached the small group. "Alex," he said, pointing to himself. "I liked to play role-playing games. I was on the team that procured video games for stores. I first recognized the small life steal runes in the stencils. I think it uses a part of our life force, along with the ambient mana we refine, to make the runes we produce slightly stronger. They''re killing us for a measly ten percent gain." Overwhelmed by the realization, he collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.


    Pierce, his heart aching for these people, stepped forward. "We''re getting you out of here," he promised, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "Is this all of you from Earth?"


    "Seven died and were taken for ''processing,'' whatever that is," David said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "More are back in the town. They were the ones who didn''t resist. We were brought here, broken, and put to work."


    "I know they''re tired, but wake the others," Pierce instructed, his voice firm but compassionate. "Line up here, and I''ll heal you before we send you home." He noticed a spark ignite in their eyes as the gaunt figures stirred and began to follow his instructions. Even the smallest act of defiance, of regaining control, seemed to rekindle a flicker of hope within them.


    With a series of gentle gestures and soothing incantations, Pierce channeled his healing magic into the exhausted humans. He started by calming their minds, soothing the trauma and fear that had taken root. He purged their bodies of any lingering ailments, and soothing raw nerves. Finally, he unleashed the full force of his healing power, restoring them to full health and vitality. As he worked his way down the line, a chorus of sobs and heartfelt "thank yous" filled the air, a testament to the depth of their gratitude and the profound impact of his magic. Pierce, pushing his mana pool to its limits, didn''t stop until every single person was whole again.


    "Ignis," he said, his head aching with a migraine from running his mana pool low, "let''s get these people home."


    A swirling vortex of blue and green materialized near the front of the line, a beacon of hope in the dimly lit factory. Hesitation flickered across the faces of the humans, the trauma of their captivity still fresh in their minds. Pierce, sensing their fear, stepped through the portal, emerging into the brightly lit portal square at the Walmart Home Office. He quickly briefed the waiting soldiers, preparing them for the influx of over two hundred exhausted but liberated captives. Then, he stepped back through the portal, offering a reassuring smile to the hesitant humans.


    Slowly, one by one, they shuffled through the portal, their eyes widening with wonder and relief as they stepped onto familiar ground. Cheers erupted from the waiting crowd, tears of joy mingling with the shouts of reunited families and friends.


    The group watched the scene unfold, a surge of satisfaction washing over them. They had done it. They had rescued their people, thwarted Doombringer''s plans, and brought hope to a world teetering on the brink of despair. Their mission, however, was not complete. Doombringer and his lieutenants still remained, and they had a score to settle.


    "Seven," Pierce said grimly, his voice echoing through the now-empty chamber as the portal closed behind the last of the returning humans. "We owe this asshole for at least seven deaths. More, I''m sure, that we don''t know about, from the battle back on Earth. But even seven is far too many." His face hardened with resolve. "Who''s ready for round two?"


    "I feel sorry for this guy," Flint growled, retrieving his hammer and shield. "He managed to piss off Pierce."


    "No more sneaking," Pierce declared, his voice laced with steel. "We''re going to burn this place to the ground."


    "My man!" Ignis exclaimed, conjuring a blazing fire blast and launching it towards the flammable wooden catwalks overhead.


    Flint, with a guttural roar that reverberated through the prison door back into the factory. His hammer, imbued with the fury of a thousand swings, crashed down upon the nearest skeletal worker, shattering bone and metal into a cloud of dust. The other skeletons, their programming seemingly oblivious to the escalating chaos, continued their work, their movements a macabre parody of life.


    Evolon, her eyes blazing with righteous anger, unleashed a torrent of arrows, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Skeletal bodies exploded into motes of dust, raining down upon the factory floor. She moved with a predatory grace, weaving between the conveyor belts, her bow a blur of motion as she decimated the undead ranks.


    Grok, her massive frame radiating an aura of primal fury, waded into the fray, her sword flashing and her three tigers tearing through the skeletal workers with savage efficiency. She cleaved through two skeletal bodies with a single blow, her every swing a testament to her honed skills and raw strength. Bones shattered, gears ground to a halt, and the factory floor became a gruesome tableau of death and destruction.


    Ignis, his normally jovial demeanor replaced with a mask of cold fury, unleashed a barrage of spells. Fireblasts erupted, incinerating skeletal workers and sending shockwaves through the factory. Lightning bolts crackled, throwing caution to the wind, arcing through the air and reducing skeletal bodies to smoldering ash. The air sizzled with raw power as Ignis, fueled by anger, channeled his magic with devastating precision.


    Pierce, his face a mask of cold determination, moved through the chaos, his hands glowing with an eerie green light. He focused his healing magic, not to mend and restore, but to twist and destroy. He targeted the skeletal workers one by one, his corrupted healing energy surging into their brittle forms. Bones warped and buckled under the onslaught, joints fusing and limbs contorting into grotesque angles. With a final surge of green light, the undead lifeforce extinguished, their forms collapsing into inert piles of bone and metal. But Pierce''s magic didn''t stop there. It leaped from one expiring skeleton to the next, creating a chain reaction of destruction that spread through the factory floor like a plague.


    The party, their initial fury spent, surveyed the scene of devastation. The air was thick with bone dust, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the light orbs above. The cacophony of industry had been replaced by an unsettling silence, punctuated only by the occasional groan of collapsing metal and the clatter of gears grinding to a halt. It was a symphony of destruction, a testament to their righteous anger.


    With no more enemies in sight, they ascended to the castle levels, their thirst for vengeance still unsatieated. Every skeletal guard, every patrolling squad, every lone sentinel they encountered met the same swift and brutal end. The castle''s once-pristine halls now echoed with the sounds of battle ¨C the clang of steel against bone, the roar of magic, followed by the chilling silence that marked their passage. The party, their faces streaked with sweat and grime, their eyes burning with a cold fire, showed no mercy. They were a force of nature, an unstoppable torrent of destruction, and the castle trembled under their onslaught.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity of relentless combat, they reached a set of imposing double doors, fifty feet high, their dark wood intricately carved with scenes of skeletal armies clashing with hordes of monstrous beasts. Pushing through the doors, they found themselves in a lavishly decorated, well-lit hallway with lush red carpet underfoot. Still on high alert, they cautiously proceeded, Evolon expertly checking for traps as they went. The hallway opened into a grand chamber, fifty feet square, with five arched doorways leading to unknown destinations. Heavy wooden doors barred their way, each adorned with a distinct symbol etched into the stone arch above: crossed swords, a bow and arrow, a fireball, a single dagger, and a skull. The party paused, their chests heaving, their weapons coated in the dust of countless battles, and prepared to face the final challenge.


    "Which one first?" Pierce asked, his voice echoing through the silent chamber. The weight of their mission, the culmination of their long and arduous journey, hung heavy in the air. The fate of worlds rested on their next decision.

 So you like to watch, huh? Should be named Torvin the Voyeur!

    Chapter 32


    Flint, gazing up at the crossed swords hanging above the doorway, let out a guttural battle cry that echoed through the stone chamber. ¡°Onward to battle!¡± he roared, his voice ringing with anticipation, before kicking the wooden door with the force of a battering ram. The door splintered and burst inward, sending wood shards flying as Flint charged through the opening and into the next room.


    Behind him, a deep, grinding noise, like mountains scraping against each other, shook the very foundations of the cavern. A massive slab of magically reinforced stone slammed down, sealing the doorway shut with a resounding crash that nearly knocked Flint off his feet. He glanced back, a wry smile spreading across his face as he surveyed the impassable barrier between himself and his party. His smile widened, morphing into something predatory, as he spoke in a low, menacing voice, just loud enough for anyone who might be listening to hear, ¡°You think I¡¯m locked in here with you¡­¡±


    He turned, his gaze sweeping across the vast space, taking in the details of his isolated arena. The room was immense, a rough-hewn cavern carved from a single piece of a mountain¡¯s heart. The air hung heavy with the smell of damp stone, a faint metallic tang, and the thick anticipation of the coming battle. Torches, set in crudely fashioned iron sconces along the uneven walls, flickered with an erratic, orange light, casting grotesque, dancing shadows that stretched and contorted across the damp, uneven surfaces. The cavern was so large that a full-sized football field could have easily fit within its empty, echoing space, with room to spare. At the far end of the chamber, a collection of dozens of weapon and armor racks gleamed invitingly, a veritable enchanted armory. Before the armory, a single armored figure stood motionless, their head bowed as if in contemplation. The figure was clad in black iron armor, intricately carved with grotesque, snarling faces and symbols of torment. A thick, white braided beard, streaked with silver, hung down to his waist, a stark contrast against the inky black of his breastplate.


    Flint moved cautiously forward, his hammer and shield raised and ready for anything, as the dwarf on the far side of the huge room stirred. The dwarf slowly raised his head, his dark eyes locking onto Flint with a predatory intensity that sent a shiver down Flint''s spine. The unknown dwarf¡¯s mouth opened, and a commanding voice, amplified by the cavern¡¯s acoustics, echoed through the chamber.


    ¡°So, Thor, Flint, or whatever you call yourself, has finally arrived at your end,¡± the dwarf said, a cruel smile twisting his lips. ¡°I must admit, I have been following your progress with¡­ interest. The Red Sands Arena, I was there, watching your¡­ performance. Messy, yet effective, as you say. Your little escape from the clock tower in this very city, I observed that as well. I imagine you¡¯re wondering who I might be. I am Torvin the Destroyer, and today you will experience firsthand why I wield that title.¡± Torvin said slowly, his voice resonating with menace, as Flint cautiously advanced.


    ¡°So you like to watch, huh? Should be named Torvin the Voyeur,¡± Flint chuckled, trying to goad his enemy into attacking first so he could gauge his strength and fighting style.


    Torvin chuckled with utter confidence, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through the very stone of the cavern. ¡°I¡¯ve been patient, puny human. I could have destroyed you at any point along your journey. But I wanted to see how far you¡¯d come, to see if you were¡­ worthy of my blade.¡± He gestured with his chin towards the sealed doorway. ¡°Your friends¡­ they won''t be joining us today. We shall see how you handle a real battle without your precious healer mending the wounds from your ineptitude.¡±


    Torvin pointed a familiar, shining blade towards Flint, his black shield still resting on the floor at his side. ¡°This blade,¡± he announced with pride, ¡°was acquired at great expense at a recent auction. I have yet to break it in, but I suspect your blood will be sufficient for the task.¡± Torvin raised his shield to just below eye level, leaving the sword pointed directly at Flint, before continuing his monologue. ¡°You may be strong, but you''re also predictable and stubborn. Those are weaknesses I can easily exploit. When I am finished playing with you, I will tear your friends limb from limb. Then, we are onto the Doombringer himself, that sniveling, spoiled brat of a necromancer. He is to be replaced with a Necromancer that is even dumber and easier to control. We will then defeat the Council and create a new power, ruling with an iron fist rather than silly contracts and treaties, but before I get ahead of myself¡­¡±


    Flint, normally one to interrupt the Big Bad Evil Guy¡¯s monologue, decided to use the time to his advantage. While Torvin ranted, Flint quietly mumbled the incantations, channeling his inner strength to cast Bastion, Retaliation, and his newest spell, Steel Skin. Bastion created an invisible magical shield around him, shimmering faintly, decreasing all incoming damage by fifty percent. Retaliation imbued him with a magical charge that would reflect incoming damage back at the attacker. And Steel Skin layered his entire body with a flexible yet incredibly tough metallic substance, significantly increasing his resistance and defense, even if his worn armor was pierced. Torvin¡¯s boastful monologue, meant to intimidate Flint, instead served as a crucial window of opportunity for the dwarf warrior to prepare for the coming confrontation.


    With a sudden, blinding flash of movement, Torvin surged forward, his shield held tight against his body, his sword moving in a blur of deadly motion. Flint, anticipating the attack, roared his Challenge, a guttural cry that echoed through the cavern. The magical energy of the Challenge washed over him, granting him a ten percent boost in strength and simultaneously weakening Torvin, lowering his armor and constitution by ten percent. Waiting until the absolute last moment, Flint leaned slightly backwards, the razor-sharp edge of Torvin¡¯s sword lightly scraping against his metallic breastplate. The blade, despite its magical glow, failed to even leave a scratch on the pristine, blue metallic armor, which shimmered faintly under the torchlight.


    Torvin, not overcommitting to his initial attack, smoothly reversed the blade¡¯s movement, slashing upwards at an angle towards Flint¡¯s face while simultaneously taking a small, deliberate step forward, pressing the attack. Flint, a wide, confident smile spreading across his face, sidestepped slightly to his enemy¡¯s shield side while tilting his head ever so slightly. Once again, the gleaming blade scraped harmlessly along his helmet, leaving no mark whatsoever. Torvin, his frustration growing, took another step forward, reversing his blade yet again into an overhand chop aimed straight down towards Flint¡¯s shoulder. Once more, Flint executed small, quick movements at precisely the right time, allowing the blade to connect with his shoulder, but at an angle that deflected most of the momentum harmlessly away from him. The blow, despite its ferocity, still failed to leave even a scratch on his magically enhanced armor.


    A sneer twisting his lips, Torvin stepped forward yet again, this time thrusting straight at Flint¡¯s center of mass, aiming for his heart. Flint, with a practiced ease that belied the speed of the attack, raised his shield, deflecting the thrust effortlessly. Flint¡¯s shield, now a mere inches from his foe¡¯s exposed face, remained raised. Flint, his eyes locked on Torvin¡¯s, took two steps backwards, a silent, unnerving smile playing on his lips. He didn''t say a word, letting his actions speak for themselves.


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    Torvin¡¯s face, now a shade of purple bordering on crimson, contorted with rage. He redoubled his efforts, abandoning any semblance of strategy in favor of pure, unadulterated aggression. He unleashed a furious flurry of rapid slashes, trying to overwhelm Flint with sheer speed and ferocity. Flint, however, kept up his precise, last-second movements, allowing the sword to barely touch his armor, or to be deflected harmlessly away time and time again. Changing his tactics, Torvin began aiming his strikes at what he perceived to be the weak points of Flint''s armor, the joints and gaps, but to no avail. The Steel Skin spell provided near-complete coverage, and the Bastion shield absorbed any stray damage.


    With a burst of raw, uncontrollable rage, Torvin thrust his blade at Flint¡¯s exposed eyes, aiming through the wide opening in his helmet. Flint, anticipating the desperate move, moved his head just enough to the side, allowing the blade to slice harmlessly across his cheek instead of piercing his eye.


    With a triumphant roar that echoed through the cavern, Torvin halted his relentless assault, pausing to catch his breath and revel in the sight of his enemy¡¯s blood streaking his blade. He held the gleaming weapon up to view it in the flickering torchlight, anticipating the crimson stain that would mark the start of his victory. But to his astonishment, no blood stained the polished steel. Looking back at Flint, he could see no cut, no wound, no sign of injury on the man''s face. Torvin¡¯s heartbeat pounded in his temples, his vision growing red with fury. He unleashed a never-before-seen flurry of blows, a chaotic storm of dozens, then hundreds of strikes, thrusting at Flint with a wild abandon, hoping to overwhelm the human with sheer volume before finally delivering the coup de grace.


    Flint, however, reacted to the onslaught with calm detachment, not even attempting to counterattack. He was beginning to find the fight¡­ tedious. He decided to see just how far he could push Torvin with words, using the dwarf¡¯s rage against him. ¡°You know, back on Earth,¡± Flint began conversationally, moving slightly to allow Torvin¡¯s blade to lightly tap his thigh armor, ¡°you know, the planet you decided to invade, we have a great warrior.¡± He continued as the blows coming his way became faster and more erratic. ¡°He won his battles, while not always being the biggest, toughest, or even the strongest.¡± Flint moved his hips with a subtle, thrusting motion, allowing the blade to scrape across his rear end slightly. ¡°There was a grand fight in a jungle with the entire planet watching. The fight was generally seen as such a huge mismatch, and everyone was sure the warrior would finally lose.¡±


    Torvin¡¯s face was now contorted with rage, spittle flying from his lips onto his thick, braided beard. He ignored Flint¡¯s words, his focus entirely on the kill.


    Flint continued, unfazed by Torvin¡¯s fury. ¡°You see, this warrior won by being smarter than his opponent. He allowed the highly trained fighter to tire himself out by deflecting the incoming blows and merely outlasting his opponent, only striking in the final minutes of the fight as his enemy was too exhausted to react.¡±


    Torvin shouted, his voice hoarse and strained, ¡°There is the flaw in your battle plan, young Flint! I can fight like this for days on end without pausing, unlike your pitiful three hours against low-level skeletons before you scampered off like a COWARD!¡± Using every last ounce of his available energy, Torvin stepped forward with the most powerful thrust he had ever attempted, aiming straight at Flint¡¯s chest. Flint, with a casual flick of his waist, turned sideways at the last moment. The blade, intended to pierce his heart, scraped harmlessly across his breastplate, again doing little to no damage.


    ¡°I agree, the mundane Rope-a-Dope wouldn¡¯t work with your magically enhanced body. You have far more stamina than myself,¡± Flint said calmly, as he used the huge opening his enemy left in the wake of the all-or-nothing strike to finally swing his own weapon. His hammer smashed straight into the face of Torvin¡¯s helmet, the impact resonating through the chamber. The blow instantly broke the dwarf¡¯s nose, sending a sheet of blood flowing down Torvin¡¯s brilliant white beard, staining it crimson. Flint continued his vocal spar, ¡°But what you never realized is that my Retaliation spell doesn¡¯t cause any pain while it whittles your health down with every strike.¡± Flint followed up with a shield bash to the exposed side of the shocked dwarf, knocking his shorter opponent off balance. He finished the combination of blows with an overhand hammer blow, delivered with brutal efficiency, directly down onto the top of the dwarf¡¯s black helmet, cracking his skull and shattering his spine.


    Torvin¡¯s fall, accelerated by the hammer blow, slammed him to the ground. His shield, locked under the weight of his body, caused him to bounce slightly before settling back to the cold stone. His eyes, losing focus on his prey, stared blankly at the flickering flames on the far walls as he expired from this realm.


    Flint remained silent, his gaze fixed on Torvin¡¯s lifeless form. He had won. He had defeated the Doombringer¡¯s adventuring party tank, general, and one-time friend. He allowed himself to bask in the glory of victory for just a moment before stowing his weapon and shield, and, with a touch of magic, absorbing his enemy¡¯s corpse, gear and all directly into his inventory. He was going to strip this room bare; he would sort out the loot later. As he was emptying the weapon racks, he found a single hidden walkway that led to a balcony overlooking the sprawling city of Doombringer. He paused there to eat some jerky and drink a Mountain Dew while the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. He would search for a way to get to his friends and assist them in their battles, but this magical universe was so much like the old tabletop games he knew. He was confident that each of his friends would be just fine in one-on-one combat against such overconfident and arrogant opponents. Flint kept the pop-up window open basking in his victory. "Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 5 Cadium acquired".


    Back in the previous chamber, the four party members stood shocked as a huge piece of glowing stone fell, sealing the doorway Flint had just stepped through. Evolon, Ignis, and Pierce exchanged uneasy glances before erupting into heavy laughter. ¡°Oh god,¡± Evolon gasped between guffaws, ¡°who wrote this script? The brave band of adventurers finally gets to fight the evil oppressors, and they¡¯re split apart to fight enemies that exactly mirror and counter their skills, one on one? This sounds like a creative writing prompt a teenager wrote five minutes before it was due!¡± She managed to say through the continuing laughter, wiping tears from her eyes.


    ¡°My only question is,¡± Pierce asked, a wide grin spreading across his face, ¡°do we want to mix things up a bit and not have the Hunter go up against an opposing bow wielder? It might be a little¡­ predictable.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I got this,¡± Evolon replied, regaining her composure and adjusting the quiver at her hip. ¡°It¡¯ll be fun to see the look on this guy¡¯s face when I go all Robin Hood and split his arrows mid-flight.¡± she added with a glint in her eye.


    ¡°How are you sure it''s a guy?¡± Ignis asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s always a guy. Idiot men write this kind of stuff, the only time they think of women is to ogle at their bodies or have them undress.¡± Evolon said with a smirk.


    ¡°This is true,¡± Grok said, nodding her approval, a thoughtful expression on her usually fierce face.


    Evolon adjusted the strap of her quiver, and taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she offered a small, confident smile to her companions. "Wish me luck!" she said to her friends, her voice ringing with a mixture of anticipation and determination as she reached for the heavy, wooden door, pushed it open, and walked into the darkness beyond.


    ¡°LUCK!¡± Ignis and Pierce shouted in unison, their voices echoing slightly in the chamber. Even as the word still hung in the air, the awaited, massive stone slab, glowing with an eerie, internal light, slammed down with a resounding crash, sealing the doorway shut between the remaining party members and their Huntress. Dust and small pebbles rained down from the ceiling where the stone had been dislodged, momentarily obscuring the now impassable barrier. The suddenness of the stone''s descent, the finality of its placement, left no doubt in their minds, Evolon was on her own.

 The hunt… is over Gaston

    Chapter 33


    Evolon stood in a large, dark chamber, the air thick with the cloying smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. Her night vision, usually a boon in such situations, struggled for several seconds to adjust to the dim, almost oppressive light filtering through what appeared to be a dense forest. Looking upwards, she could just barely make out the rough-hewn stone of the cavern ceiling far above, a dizzying distance away. This was no ordinary woodland; it was an indoor forest, a bizarre ecosystem contained within the castle, with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of trees, interspersed with patches of thick grass and tangled undergrowth. She placed a hand on the wall behind her, finding it cold and rough¡ªan inky obsidian black, barely visible in the gloom. She moved silently, one hand trailing along the wall as a guide, her senses on high alert.


    A shiver, colder than the cavern stone, ran down Evolon¡¯s spine as the full scope of the scene before her registered. Scattered throughout the trees, frozen in grotesque tableaux, were creatures, locked in eternal struggles. A majestic Griffon, wings outstretched in a silent roar, was perpetually harassed by several frozen wolves, their fangs bared in a silent snarl. And just behind the wolves, half-hidden in a thicket of thorny bushes, was a Dwarf, crossbow raised as if about to loose a bolt. Evolon approached the Dwarf cautiously, her boots making no sound on the damp earth. She touched his neck with two fingers, the skin cold and stiff, and the chilling realization washed over her. These were taxidermied trophies, meticulously preserved and posed. But this wasn''t some cozy hunting lodge; this was something far more insidious, a macabre gallery of death. She looked around, her gaze sweeping across the frozen battlefield, and found more scenes like this one. Elves, Humans, even a Catwoman, all locked in eternal combat with monstrous beasts, some of whom seemed to be fighting unseen foes. This silent, frozen war was a monument to some unseen hunter''s skill, or perhaps, his madness.


    A raspy voice, seemingly emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once, broke the unsettling silence. It was smooth, almost melodic, yet laced with a chilling undercurrent of violence that sent a shiver down her spine. ¡°Welcome, Evolon,¡± it purred. ¡°I trust you appreciate my¡­ collection?¡±


    Evolon retrieved her bow from her back, the polished copperwood cool and comforting in her hand. As she scanned the dense trees before her, searching for any sign of movement, she nocked an arrow, the arrowhead gleaming faintly in the dim light. Without a word, she began to move slowly and silently towards the direction she thought the voice was coming from, her footsteps muffled by the soft earth and patches of green grass. She passed another scene of frozen carnage. Several lizard men, their scales dull and lifeless, surrounded a huge six-legged rhinoceros, their spears forever poised to strike. As she moved past this gruesome display of power, the voice spoke again, closer this time. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mirage, Hunter of the Doombringers. This¡­ is my sanctuary.¡±


    Evolon continued her cautious advance into the heart of the indoor forest, every nerve in her body screaming for her to turn back, but she pressed on. Her senses were on high alert, straining to detect any sound, any movement, any hint of the unseen hunter¡¯s presence. The taxidermied figures seemed to watch her every move, their glassy eyes following her as she passed, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.


    The hidden voice continued, a hint of something akin to reverence creeping into its tone. ¡°I love to relive the thrill of the hunt. The more dangerous the prey, the more exhilarating the victory. You see, I¡¯ve slain beasts of all kinds, from the mundane to the truly fantastical. But sentient beings¡­ they possess a cunning that most beasts lack. And Cadium wielders, like yourself, Evolon, even more so. The struggle, the desperate will to survive¡­ it makes the hunt that much more intoxicating. And when the chase is over, and the prey is finally brought down¡­ the feeling is¡­ indescribable. But I''m not telling you anything you don''t already know, am I? I can see it in your eyes, the hunter''s instinct. You are loving every second of this.¡±


    Evolon felt a surge of anger, hot and sharp, rise within her. This creature, this Mirage, was a monster, a predator who reveled in the suffering and death of others. ¡°I am nothing like you,¡± she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. She clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing she had spoken aloud, tears of frustration and grief welling in her eyes.


    Suddenly, the air in front of Evolon shimmered, distorting the light filtering through the trees. She felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a premonition of imminent danger. She felt the unseen eyes on her, knew it was the perfect moment for a hunter to strike. Reacting instinctively, she moved erratically, hopping behind the thick trunk of a massive tree just as she felt a sharp sting of pain in her thigh. Taking a quick glance down at her leg, she saw a gash in her pants and blood welling up through a shallow cut across her thigh. Quickly, she activated her invisibility ring, the cool metal a welcome sensation against her skin, and drank a small healing potion from her pouch. As the wound closed and the bleeding stopped, she kept some of her blood in her hand.


    Now, she too, was an unseen predator, stalking in the shadows.


    Evolon decided to use Mirage¡¯s arrogance against him. She knew he was watching and listening, and that he held the home-field advantage in this strange, indoor forest. She deliberately left a few drops of blood on the damp forest floor, creating a trail any hunter would find irresistible. She moved slowly and silently through the underbrush, careful not to make a sound.


    Mirage, predictably, took the bait. His disembodied voice echoed through the trees, laced with anticipation. ¡°Clever girl,¡± he murmured, his unseen form moving in a strange, almost erratic pattern through the trees. ¡°Trying to lead me on a chase. But you can¡¯t hide from me, Evolon. I can smell your fear, taste your desperation, just like all the others. I wonder if you will also beg for your life in the end?¡±


    Evolon continued her carefully orchestrated retreat, her senses straining to detect any sign of her pursuer. She could feel his presence, a coldness in the air, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. He was close, she knew.


    She led him deeper into the forest, towards a cluster of particularly large trees. She knew she only had one chance. She stopped, feigning exhaustion, leaning heavily against one of the trees as if struggling to stay on her feet. She could almost hear Mirage¡¯s triumphant chuckle. He thought he had her cornered. She wiped a smear of her blood on the rough bark of the tree and started sobbing, tears flowing down her cheeks.


    Mirage, confident in his victory, approached the spot where he knew his quarry to be. He drew his blade, a special, near-invisible artifact from his nearly extinct race of sentient chameleons ¨C experts at remaining unseen until it was too late. Drawing closer, his footsteps muffled by the soft earth, he slowly and cautiously moved around a tree. His two eyes, each capable of independent movement, swiveled in opposite directions, ensuring he maintained a 360-degree view of his surroundings. He slowly moved around the tree, preparing to strike his invisible blade into¡­ nothing.


    Feeling a sudden, sharp pain, Mirage looked down, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. The point of a sword protruded from his chest, the gleaming metal a stark contrast against his skin. The shock of the situation dawned on him slowly as the blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Mirage slumped to the ground, his lifeblood spurting through the gash in his chest and back, staining the earth a dark green.


    Evolon, her breath catching slightly from the exertion, wiped the greenish blood from her blade using the chameleon man¡¯s own clothing, a grim irony not lost on her. ¡°The hunt¡­ is over Gaston,¡± she said softly, her voice devoid of any emotion.


    Unbeknownst to Mirage, before drinking the healing potion, Evolon had retrieved a cheap necklace with a Heat Sight enchantment on it, a seemingly insignificant trinket that Pierce had distributed to the party, its redundant effects proving surprisingly useful. Placing the necklace over her head, she activated the enchantment, allowing her to perceive even the slightest variations in temperature. While Mirage was stalking his prey, confident in his invisibility and hunting prowess, Evolon was watching his heat signature move through the trees, a bright, telltale beacon in the dim light. She had used the drops of blood to draw him into a strategically chosen choke point, a narrow passage between the trees. There, she wiped her blood on a single, large tree trunk and then, dropped her cellphone, playing a recently recorded audio clip of herself struggling to breathe, gasping for air. While Mirage was distracted by the sound, believing he had finally cornered his wounded prey, Evolon silently sprinted around the other side of the tree, retrieved her sword from her inventory and positioned herself to strike. She aimed at an invisible point ¨C the spot where she would have been had she actually been stalking herself ¨C and then, when Mirage stepped into range, she struck, driving the sword through his lower back, piercing his heart, and protruding through his chest. Placing her foot on his back for leverage, she retrieved her blade, the movement swift and efficient.


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    Silence returned to the chamber, heavier now, more oppressive than before. Evolon touched Mirage¡¯s corpse, the skin already growing cold, and then stowed it, along with his gear, into her inventory. She glanced at the notification that popped up in her vision, a small smile playing on her lips, before mentally minimizing it. She could deal with the loot later. The important thing was that the threat was neutralized. The message read: ¡°Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 5 Cadium acquired?¡±


    ¡°I guess I¡¯m up next. I¡¯m hoping for a cooking competition like on the Food Network!¡± Ignis said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as he calmly opened and walked through the doorway etched with the fiery symbol. As expected, a large slab of stone slammed down behind him, sealing the chamber with a resounding thud. The bright light of the chamber momentarily blinded him, forcing him to blink rapidly. He quickly retrieved a pair of Oakley mountain biking sunglasses from his inventory, the polarized lenses dimming the harsh light considerably and allowing his eyes to adjust. The room was enormous, the perceived edges of the space difficult to discern. He could, however, make out the distinct difference between the paint on the walls and ceiling¡ªa soft, ethereal blue¡ªand the odd, swirling cloud formations that surrounded him in all directions, both above and below. Underfoot, the ¡°ground¡± felt strangely insubstantial, like walking on a layer of solidified mist. Above him, multiple layers of cloud formations drifted lazily, some wispy and translucent, like cotton candy, others thick and billowy, resembling cumulus clouds on a summer afternoon, creating a three-dimensional maze that stretched up to the high ceiling, which was painted to resemble a vast, blue sky with even more distant clouds. The illusion was remarkably convincing, and for a moment, Ignis felt a disorienting sense of vertigo, a momentary disorientation that made him sway slightly.


    He cautiously moved forward, testing the solidity of the cloud-floor with the toe of his boot. It held his weight, though with a slight give, like that one time he went to Lucas Oil Stadium for a cooking convention and was able to stand on the springy, artificial turf of the football field. The air was cool and carried a faint, almost metallic scent of ozone. He recognized the smell; it reminded him of the Pandemic days, when he had to hire a crew to disinfect his restaurant every night using ozone generators. He quickly realized that the layered clouds were not just for show. They were strategically placed, creating a labyrinthine path with a strange, almost unsettling verticality. He instantly knew this was a maze, a carefully constructed obstacle he would have to traverse to reach the opposing wizard waiting at the far end.


    Ignis began his ascent, moving carefully from cloud to cloud, testing each one with a gentle prod from his foot before fully committing his weight. He was carefully judging their density and stability. Some of the clouds, he quickly discovered, were false; stepping onto them would have resulted in a rather nasty fall, forcing him to start the maze over, if he didn''t have his trusty feather of levitation activated. The ¡°walls¡± of the cloud maze shifted and swirled around him as he progressed, the painted sky creating an illusion of constant movement that made the experience even more disorienting. It was a clever trick of light and perspective, but Ignis kept his focus, his mind sharp and alert. He used his inventory to test the clouds before trusting them with his full weight. He absently pulled a small bag of candy corn from his pocket tossing the yellow and orange candies on the clouds as he walked, glad he hadn''t given in to his initial impulse to put this junk where it belongs in the garbage.


    After what seemed like an eternity, navigating the treacherous cloud maze, he reached the far side of the chamber. There, amidst the swirling clouds, a small, checkered table and two chairs sat as if prepared for a quiet game. At the table, a woman in a light blue wizard¡¯s robe sat calmly, her hands resting on the tabletop. She had long, flowing auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders and a delicate, almost ethereal beauty, reminiscent of actresses like Lily James or Zooey Deschanel¡ªthe kind of approachable beauty that put men at ease and didn''t intimidate other women. Her eyes, the color of a clear summer sky, held a warm, welcoming glint.


    As Ignis approached, she smiled, a disarming expression that radiated kindness and genuine warmth. ¡°Welcome, Ignis,¡± she said, her voice soft and melodious, like the gentle chime of wind chimes. ¡°I am Vivienne, and I¡¯ve been expecting you.¡±


    Ignis stopped a few feet from the table, his senses on high alert. He cautiously looked around the seemingly innocuous setting, searching for any sign of the obvious trap he knew was waiting. He glanced at the chess set on the table between them. The pieces were stylized slightly differently from those on Earth, with subtle variations in their design, but they were clearly recognizable as chess pieces. He paused, ready for the trap to be sprung at any moment.


    ¡°Vivienne,¡± he acknowledged, his voice neutral, giving nothing away. ¡°I presume this is your¡­ welcoming gift?¡± He gestured towards the chess set with a slight nod of his head.


    ¡°Come now,¡± she replied, her smile widening slightly. ¡°We are not barbarians, we do not settle our differences with fists or blades. It has been so long since I have had the company of an intellectual. I propose a simple game of chess. The stakes are straightforward: the winner takes all, and the loser¡­ disappears from this land, never to be seen again.¡±


    Ignis raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. ¡°Disappears? A rather permanent penalty for a game of chess, wouldn''t you say?¡±


    ¡°Are you afraid of losing?¡± Vivienne asked, her expression shifting to a playful pout, her lower lip slightly extended.


    ¡°Afraid? No,¡± Ignis replied, a small smile playing on his lips. ¡°Cautious, perhaps. My normal mental juggling is along the lines of sourcing the perfect ingredients to create a seamless menu with perfect cohesion, leaving the diner in a state of bliss by the end of the night. Chess, while intriguing, is a decidedly different kind of mental exercise.¡±


    ¡°Oh my, are you flirting with me? After the way you whisked that Goth Elf off her feet, I would have expected much more charm,¡± Vivienne said, covering her smile with a gloved hand and letting out a small, melodic giggle.


    He cautiously took the seat opposite her, his eyes scanning the board. The pieces were indeed different. The pawns were more slender, almost like darts. The knights were stylized griffons, and the rooks were the familiar castles. He assumed the rules were the same as back home, a comforting familiarity in this strange place.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Vivienne said, picking up a white pawn with a delicate touch. ¡°Let the game begin.¡± A shy smile curled up on her lips, adding to her already disarming charm.


    They played in silence for several minutes, the only sound the soft clicking of the pieces as they moved across the board. Vivienne played with a graceful, almost languid style, her movements fluid and elegant, as if she were conducting an orchestra on the wind. Ignis, on the other hand, played with a more deliberate and analytical approach, carefully considering each move before committing, his brow furrowed in concentration.


    As the game progressed, Ignis, seemingly out of nowhere, started a conversation between moves. ¡°You know, I still live at home with my mother,¡± he said, a casual statement designed to throw her off balance, and it clearly worked, judging by the look of astonishment that briefly flickered across Vivienne¡¯s face. ¡°Every night, she loves to watch Wheel of Fortune and play a game of chess,¡± he continued, his voice conversational. ¡°She started teaching me the game as soon as I could walk.¡± He moved a piece, narrowly escaping one of her many cleverly laid traps on the board. ¡°If I won,¡± he continued, his eyes meeting hers, her smile now showing a slight amount of teeth and reaching her eyes, ¡°she would give me a single piece of caramel candy.¡± He reached into his inventory, pulled out a wrapped caramel candy, and placed it on the side of the board between them, a small, nostalgic gesture. ¡°By the age of fifteen, she had me in tournaments, and I was quite good,¡± Ignis said, his movements on the board becoming slightly faster, more decisive with each sentence. ¡°The only problem with this little story,¡± he continued, his tone of voice subtly shifting, the lightheartedness fading slightly, ¡°is no one ever asked me if I liked chess.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the board, a cute frown creasing her brow. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve been outmaneuvered.¡± She looked up at him, her smile still present, but a hint of something else, something sharper, glinted in her eyes. ¡°Congratulations, Ignis,¡± she said. As she spoke, her hand moved swiftly, almost too fast to see. A shimmering blade of wind materialized in her palm, aimed directly at Ignis¡¯ heart. The trap had been sprung, just as he had anticipated.


    But Ignis was ready.


    The moment Vivienne¡¯s hand moved, Ignis unleashed the Time Stop spell he had been holding in reserve, a trump card he had been preparing since he first laid eyes on the beautiful wizard. The world around him froze. Vivienne¡¯s wind blade hung in the air, halfway across the chess table, like a cloudy dart frozen mid-flight. He calmly stood, pushed his chair back into the table, picked up his caramel candy, unwrapped it with deliberate slowness, placed the sweet treat in his mouth, and closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness and the fond memories it evoked. He slowly walked around the table, reached out, and touched her shoulder. ¡°Checkmate,¡± escaped his lips as he cast Ice Blast. A wave of icy energy pulsed from his fingertips, encasing her entire body in a layer of shimmering ice. Her light blue robe now shimmered in a thousand facets of icy crystals, adding an almost holographic white depth to the garment.


    He frowned slightly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He then stowed her frozen body, along with her gear, into his inventory as the Time Stop spell ended. He glanced at the pop-up notification hovering in the center of his field of vision.


    ¡°Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 5 Cadium acquired?¡±

 Mana-Chef 5000

    Chapter 34


    Grok, without a word, stepped through the doorway marked with the dagger, the ominous symbol seeming to pulse with a faint, inner light. Behind her, as expected, the heavy stone door slammed shut with a resounding boom, enclosing her in this new, strangely vibrant chamber. Her new surroundings were a stark contrast to the cold, damp dungeon she had just left. This space was a cacophony of hurried whispers, the smell of hairspray and cheap perfume hung thick in the air, mingling with the distinct scent of sawdust and greasepaint. A palpable, almost frantic energy permeated the atmosphere; she was clearly in a backstage area of some sort, a chaotic hub of theatrical preparation.


    Grok blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the bright, artificial lights that blazed down from above, a stark difference from the flickering torches of the dungeon. She was standing amidst a jumble of costumes, hanging from racks, alongside a chaotic collection of props ¨C swords, goblets, and strangely shaped objects whose purpose she couldn''t even begin to guess. Half-finished set pieces leaned against the walls, revealing the rough wood and hasty construction behind the illusion of grandeur. A flurry of activity swirled around her. Harried individuals, their faces streaked with makeup and their clothes a bizarre mix of fabrics and styles, rushed past her, muttering about missed cues, forgotten lines, and the rapidly approaching curtain.


    Before Grok could even begin to process what was happening, a woman with a clipboard and a headset, her face etched with a mixture of stress and barely-contained excitement, motioned to two other women hovering nearby. They swooped in on Grok, efficiently pulling a voluminous, crimson dress over her head, ensuring her arms made it through the correct holes with practiced ease. The clipboard woman, without pausing for breath, started fluffing the elaborate ruffles of the dress vigorously, seemingly oblivious to Grok¡¯s bewildered expression. ¡°Five minutes, get to makeup! Five minutes to curtain!¡± she shouted in Grok¡¯s general direction, her voice barely audible above the din. ¡°Where have you been? Lucky¡¯s already in place!¡± The woman punctuated her pronouncements with sharp gestures before darting off between racks of clothing, disappearing into the swirling chaos.


    ¡°Curtain?¡± Grok managed, her voice a low growl, completely out of place in this frantic, theatrical atmosphere. It was a sound more suited to a battlefield than a backstage.


    Grok found herself being manhandled by a whirlwind of frantic hands. She was unceremoniously pushed into a chair in front of a brightly lit mirror, the harsh glare of the lights reflecting back at her. Through the mirror, everything was reversed, but she could just make out a poster for a play called ¡°The Fall of Doombringer.¡± The only other things she could decipher, due to the reversed lettering, were the two names emblazoned across the top: Grok and Lucian "Lucky" Chance. A sticky, sweet-smelling substance was smeared across her face, followed by layers of powders and paints in shades she had never seen before in her life. A scratchy, bright red wig, seemingly constructed from some unholy combination of wool and wire, was jammed onto her head, nearly obscuring her vision. The dress''s corset was pulled so tight she could barely breathe, the stiff fabric digging into her skin. Strange arms pulled and pushed at her, adjusting the dress, the wig, the makeup. Grok¡¯s only instinct was to scratch the irritating itch on her skin and escape the whirlwind of activity.


    ¡°Go, go, go!¡± The clipboard woman reappeared, seemingly out of thin air, hissing like an agitated serpent. She shoved Grok towards a narrow opening in the backdrop, a dark slit in the fabric that seemed to lead into another world. ¡°You¡¯re on!¡±


    Grok stumbled through the opening and into¡­a blaze of blinding light. She blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust once more, this time to the intense glare of stage lighting. She was on a stage. A large, elaborately decorated stage, bathed in the harsh glow of spotlights that seemed to pierce her very soul. The air crackled with an almost palpable energy, a strange mix of excitement and tension that vibrated through the floorboards and into her bones.


    There, standing in the center of the stage, bathed in the adoring light, was the most breathtakingly handsome elf Grok had ever seen. He was tall and muscular for an elf, with flowing silver hair that shimmered like moonlight on water, and his eyes sparkled with an almost mischievous glint. He wore a costume fit for a king, a rich tapestry of deep purples and dark blues, adorned with intricate embroidery and gleaming jewels. He exuded an aura of effortless charm and charisma, a natural magnetism that drew the eye and held it captive.


    ¡°Grok, my dear! You''re finally here!¡± He said, his voice smooth and melodious, resonating with a practiced theatricality. He flashed her a dazzling smile, his perfect teeth gleaming in the spotlight. ¡°We were beginning to think you had abandoned us.¡±


    Grok stared at him, completely bewildered by the situation, the bright lights, and the elf¡¯s unexpected greeting. ¡°Abandoned¡­you?¡± she finally managed, her voice still a low growl, a stark contrast to the elf¡¯s smooth tones.


    The elf chuckled, a rich, warm sound that seemed to fill the entire space. ¡°Don¡¯t be coy, my dear. You know the scene. Act Three. The confrontation!¡± He gestured dramatically towards a series of elaborate props arranged around the stage. Grok recognized some of them ¨C depictions of a large, familiar white castle, its towers and battlements rendered in painstaking detail. ¡°The fate of the Doombringer hangs in the balance!¡±


    Grok, with absolutely no idea what he was talking about, simply repeated his words, ¡°The Fall of Doombringer.¡± The elf, seemingly oblivious to her confusion, or perhaps choosing to ignore it, launched into a dramatic monologue, his voice ringing out across the stage with practiced theatricality.


    ¡°The tyrant has ruled for far too long!¡± he declared, his voice filled with theatrical passion, the words echoing through the empty theater. ¡°His iron fist has crushed the spirit of the people! We, the brave few, must rise up and overthrow him!¡±


    He turned to Grok, his eyes gleaming with an almost manic intensity. ¡°Your line, my dear!¡± he whispered conspiratorially, his breath warm against her ear. ¡°Tell me why the Doombringer must fall!¡±


    Grok, grasping at straws and desperate for any clue as to what was going on, decided to play along with this bizarre performance. After all, this theatrical production, however strange, might offer some insights into the reasons her people were being bought and discarded so easily. ¡°Because¡­because he is a tyrant!¡± she growled, channeling her inner barbarian, the guttural sound echoing oddly in the otherwise silent theater.


    The elf beamed, his smile widening, seemingly genuinely pleased. ¡°Excellent! Magnificent! You see? You know your lines perfectly!¡± He resumed his dramatic monologue, his voice rising and falling with practiced inflection, weaving a tale of oppression, rebellion, and betrayal, a narrative that sounded vaguely familiar, yet utterly disconnected from anything Grok had ever experienced.


    As the elf spoke, his voice filling the empty theater, Grok began to notice something strange, something unsettling. He seemed to be¡­everywhere. One moment he was standing beside her, his face inches from hers, the next he was perched precariously on a balcony high above the stage, then behind a throne, his silhouette outlined against the backdrop, then wielding a sword in a dramatic duel against an unseen opponent. It was as if there were multiple versions of him on the stage, each playing a different role in this bizarre pantomime.


    Then it all clicked in her head. Illusions. The elf was using illusions, some kind of magic she didn''t understand, to portray all the characters in this strange play. He was a one-man show, a master of deception and theatrical trickery. Now, she just needed to figure out how to get the information she wanted and, if necessary, defeat him.


    Grok¡¯s eyes scanned the ¡°audience¡± for any sign of movement, any hint of life. But as she looked closer, she realized something even stranger, something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The audience wasn''t made up of people at all. They were training dummies. Hundreds of them, arranged in neat, orderly rows, their blank, unseeing faces staring up at the stage, their painted eyes fixed in a perpetual, vacant gaze.


    This wasn''t a play, not in the traditional sense. It was some kind of performance, a charade. But if they weren''t the audience, then who was the target for all this elaborate effort? Who was meant to witness this strange spectacle?


    The elf, seemingly oblivious to Grok''s scrutiny of the dummy audience, was nearing the climax of his performance. He drew a gleaming dagger, its polished blade catching the light, reflecting the harsh glow of the spotlights. ¡°The time has come!¡± he declared, his voice ringing with dramatic intensity, the words echoing eerily in the empty theater. ¡°Doombringer must pay for his crimes!¡±


    He lunged towards Grok, the dagger flashing in the air, a blur of silver against the backdrop. But Grok, her senses honed by years of combat, her reflexes sharpened by countless battles, saw the attack coming. The realization spread across her face like wildfire ¨C this was not part of the play. This was a genuine attempt on her life.


    The elf¡¯s charming facade dropped, revealing a cruel, predatory glint in his eyes, a flash of malice that had been hidden beneath the mask of theatricality. He was an assassin, not an actor, and this performance was a prelude to murder.


    As the dagger plunged towards her back, aimed at the space between her shoulder blades, Grok reacted instinctively. She dropped her hip, twisting her body, grabbing the attacking wrist with surprising speed and strength, using the elf¡¯s own momentum against him to execute a swift and brutal takedown. The elf, caught completely off guard, his attack turned against him, found himself slammed onto the stage floor with a resounding thud, his dagger clattering away, skittering across the polished boards. Following his momentum she flew through the air, pulling his arm up towards her chest, while simultaneously slamming her two powerful legs around his head, locking her feet at the ankles in a vice-like grip.


    ¡°Alright, pretty boy,¡± Grok growled, her voice low and menacing, the sound resonating with raw power. ¡°Let¡¯s talk.¡±


    The elf, his voice choked and strained, his face pressed against the hard stage floor, managed to gasp, ¡°I¡­am¡­Lucky¡­Chance.¡±


    ¡°Lucky?¡± Grok scoffed, tightening her grip slightly. ¡°Is that your name? Or just another one of your tricks?¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°My stage name,¡± he managed, his voice strained, as Grok loosened her thighs ever so slightly, allowing him a sliver of hope, a breath of air before the inevitable. ¡°Everyone calls me Lucky. My real name is Lucian, Lucian Chance.¡±


    ¡°Well, Lucky,¡± Grok said, tightening her grip on his hand and twisting it slightly, hearing the bones in his arm pop and creak, nearing their breaking point. ¡°You just tried to kill me. That doesn¡¯t seem very lucky for you.¡±


    ¡°It was¡­a mistake,¡± he gasped in pain, his face contorted in agony. ¡°Part¡­of the¡­play.¡±


    Grok didn''t believe him for a second. She asked a question she already knew the answer to, a test of his honesty, a way to gauge the depths of his deception. ¡°Who is Doombringer?¡±


    Lucky hesitated, his eyes darting around the stage as if searching for an escape that wasn''t there. Then, he said, ¡°He¡¯s the leader, the one in charge.¡±


    ¡°In charge of what?¡± Grok asked, her voice a low growl.


    ¡°Everything,¡± Lucky said, his voice trembling slightly. ¡°This whole planet, our adventuring group. He is a member of the Council, after his father died, leaving the Doombringer name and organization to him.¡±


    ¡°Why attack me specifically?¡± Grok growled, her eyes narrowing, sensing that he was still evading the true answers.


    ¡°Eliminate any unforeseen variables,¡± Lucky gasped through the headlock, his words punctuated by the increasing pressure on his windpipe.


    ¡°Spell the whole plan out for me,¡± Grok said, her voice dangerously soft. ¡°Be plain, as you only have so many more words left to say in this world.¡± She punctuated her threat with a subtle, almost imperceptible squeeze of her legs, a reminder of the power she held over him.


    ¡°We kill your group,¡± Lucky hissed, his face now flushed with a mixture of pain and fear, ¡°kill Doombringer, become council members, kill the rest of the council, and rule with an iron fist. There are far too many contracts and treaties when power is the only thing you need to rule.¡± The anger in his voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the charming persona he had displayed just moments before.


    ¡°Who hired my clan for the invasion?¡± Grok asked, her questions flying at him, each one a hammer blow. ¡°And who exactly in Clan Zotto did you negotiate with? Also, what did you promise them?¡±


    ¡°Torvin is our combat general,¡± Lucky explained through gritted teeth, his voice barely audible. ¡°He led that project. Hrothgar of Clan Zotto was our contact. He was to keep half the Cadium acquired, but we were going to betray him and take it all for ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Who is controlling the skeletons in this city?¡± Grok asked, her growl deepening. ¡°Who is oppressing the people here?¡±


    ¡°I am in charge of the city,¡± Lucky pleaded, his voice rising in desperation. ¡°Every decision is made for our citizens¡¯ safety.¡±


    ¡°What about the humans you forced to give their own life force to enchant parts in the factory?¡± Grok asked, her anger welling up in her chest, a burning rage threatening to consume her.


    ¡°They were unruly,¡± Lucky said, his voice flat, devoid of any remorse. ¡°They would not fall into line and fit in with our Utopia.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard all I need to know,¡± Grok said, slightly relaxing her legs, giving him a sliver of false hope.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Lucky said, his bloodshot eyes filled with a desperate hope.


    Grok squeezed her legs with brutal finality, the sound of snapping bone and spraying blood echoing through the empty theater. His head exploded like an overripe melon, splattering her crimson dress with thick, warm blood and gore.


    ¡°Justice for the fallen,¡± Grok whispered, her voice barely audible above the ringing in her ears. She took his entire body into her inventory, a strange, detached feeling washing over her as she did so. A pop-up box appeared in her vision, its words stark and impersonal: ¡°Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 5 Cadium acquired?¡±


    Pierce stepped through the doorway marked with the skull, the stone grinding shut behind him. He found himself in a surprisingly small, wood-paneled office. It wasn''t the grand chamber of a dark overlord he''d envisioned, but rather a cozy, if somewhat cluttered, space. A large, polished wooden desk dominated the room, piled high with stacks of paper that threatened to topple over at any moment. Behind the desk sat a man who, to Pierce¡¯s surprise, looked more like a harried accountant than a fearsome Doombringer.


    Silas, a human with slightly disheveled brown hair and a perpetually distracted expression, was shuffling through the paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. He wore a simple tunic and trousers, a far cry from the imposing armor Pierce had expected.


    Pierce cleared his throat. ¡°Silas Doombringer?¡±


    Silas looked up, startled. He blinked a few times, as if trying to place Pierce. ¡°Ah, yes. You must be¡­Pierce, I presume? One of¡­Grok¡¯s associates?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Pierce said, stepping further into the office. He pulled up a comfortable-looking leather chair and sat down across from Silas. ¡°I wanted to have a word with you.¡±


    Silas nodded, pushing the stacks of paper to one side, creating a precarious tower. ¡°Of course, of course. What can I do for you?¡±


    Pierce leaned back in his chair, taking in the room. It was an odd mix of the mundane and the magical. The paperwork on the desk spoke of mundane business transactions, while a workbench in the corner was covered in strange contraptions and glowing runes. ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing some¡­interesting things,¡± Pierce began, ¡°about your¡­operations.¡±


    Silas looked confused. ¡°Operations? You¡¯ll have to be more specific. We have quite a few¡­projects¡­on the go.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with Earth,¡± Pierce said. ¡°The invasion. The human captives.¡±


    Silas blinked again, his expression genuinely puzzled. ¡°Earth? Invasion? Human captives? I had a report sometime back with Earth on it, but it was a probing fact finding mission, not an invasion.¡±


    Pierce frowned. ¡°Surely you¡¯re aware of the¡­city¡­full of human captives? The ones too frightened to even resist?¡±


    Silas shook his head. ¡°No. I¡­I don¡¯t handle those¡­details. Torvin and the others¡­they take care of¡­those sorts of things.¡±


    Pierce stared at him, incredulous. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you, the Doombringer, have no knowledge of the invasion of Earth?¡±


    Silas shrugged, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not exactly my area of expertise. You see, my father¡­he handled all that. He passed away a few years ago, leaving me¡­well, everything. The city, the business¡­and his personal¡­twenty cadium.¡± He seemed to brighten slightly at the mention of his father.


    ¡°And what exactly is your area of expertise?¡± Pierce asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. This guy was nothing like the terrifying necromancer he¡¯d imagined.


    ¡°Cooking,¡± Silas said with a wistful sigh. ¡°I¡¯ve always loved the culinary arts. Unfortunately, I¡¯m¡­not a very good cook myself, so I like to invent products to fix that deficiency.¡±


    Pierce blinked. ¡°Cooking?¡±


    Silas nodded. ¡°Yes. But I do have a knack for¡­other things. Like¡­necromancy and invention.¡±


    Pierce raised an eyebrow. ¡°Necromancy?¡±


    Silas shrugged again. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s¡­a family thing. I can¡­create and control undead. But I mostly just use it for¡­chores. Cleaning, laundry¡­that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Chores?¡± Pierce repeated, his mind reeling. This powerful necromancer used his abilities to do laundry?


    Silas nodded. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s very efficient. Though, my adventuring party¡­they encouraged me to¡­expand my horizons, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°Your adventuring party?¡± Pierce said feeling like he was shocked into just repeating the last words the man in front of him said, while trying to steady his thoughts and come up with better questions.


    Yes, Torvin, Mirage, Vivienne, and Lucky. They¡¯re my closest friends. They saw the potential in my¡­talents. They convinced me to¡­create more undead. A lot more.¡±


    ¡°And after your father died?¡± Pierce asked.


    ¡°Well,¡± Silas said, ¡°my father always taught me the importance of delegation. So, I delegated. I entrusted most of the running of the city and the business to my friends. They¡¯re much better at that sort of thing than I am. I just¡­sign the paperwork. They take care of the rest.¡±


    Pierce was starting to get a clearer picture. Silas was a figurehead, a puppet ruler more interested in his own hobbies than actually running his empire. His friends, the four henchmen, were the ones pulling the strings. And they were clearly up to no good.


    ¡°So,¡± Pierce said, gesturing towards the workbench, ¡°this is your¡­real passion?¡±


    Silas¡¯ face lit up. ¡°Absolutely! I love inventing things. Especially kitchen gadgets. I want to make the magical home cook¡¯s life easier.¡±


    Pierce walked over to the workbench, examining the strange devices. ¡°These look¡­complicated.¡±


    ¡°They are!¡± Silas said proudly. ¡°This one, for example, takes ambient mana, condenses it with runes, and injects it into mundane raw food, turning it into magical food!¡±


    ¡°Magical food?¡± Pierce repeated, fascinated.


    Silas nodded enthusiastically. ¡°Yes! Imagine, a steak that grants you super strength, or a salad that makes you invisible! The possibilities are endless!¡±


    He picked up one of the devices, a small, metallic box covered in intricate runes. ¡°This is my latest masterpiece. I¡¯m calling it¡­well, I haven¡¯t come up with a good name yet. My working title is Forti-nator, but that sounds too industrial.¡±


    Pierce chuckled. ¡°It does a bit.¡±


    Silas frowned. ¡°I know, right? I¡¯ve been racking my brain trying to come up with something¡­catchier.¡±


    He began to explain the intricacies of the device, his voice filled with excitement. He talked about the challenges he¡¯d faced during the development process, the countless failed prototypes, the¡­explosions.


    ¡°Explosions?¡± Pierce asked, a hint of concern in his voice, but noticing many of the internal pieces of the device from the factory floor.


    Silas waved his hand dismissively. ¡°Oh, just minor setbacks. I learned early on that pre-cooked food is a no-go. The taste is absolutely fowl. And¡­well, let¡¯s just say testing on live subjects¡­didn¡¯t go as planned.¡± He winced slightly.


    Pierce decided not to dwell on the ¡°live subjects.¡± ¡°So, this factory you mentioned¡­it¡¯s producing these¡­Forti-nators?¡±


    Silas nodded. ¡°Millions of them! I¡¯m so excited! I can¡¯t wait to see what people create with them!¡±


    Pierce realized that Silas was completely oblivious to the true nature of his ¡°empire.¡± He was a brilliant inventor, consumed by his passion, while his friends were using his creations and his name to further their own nefarious agenda. He felt a strange pang of pity for the man.


    ¡°Silas,¡± Pierce said, ¡°I need to talk to my friends. Is there any way to¡­raise the stones blocking the exit?¡±


    Silas blinked, as if surprised by the request. ¡°Of course! I can have the stone pillars raised. They¡¯ll be here in no time.¡±


    He reached for a small, ornate lever on his desk and pulled it. A low rumbling echoed through the room, and Pierce could feel the ground vibrating beneath his feet.


    ¡°The pillars are rising now,¡± Silas said. ¡°That was one of my early inventions, mostly meant to keep my father from bothering me while I invent things.¡±


    Pierce nodded. ¡°Thank you, Silas.¡±


    Silas smiled. ¡°No problem. Now, about this name for my device¡­what do you think of¡­Mana-Chef 5000?¡±


    Pierce suppressed a sigh. He had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation. He just hoped he could get to the bottom of what was really going on before it was too late. He had a feeling that Silas, despite his obliviousness, was in more danger than he realized, and Pierce was starting to feel like he needed to protect the man from his own friends.

 You need loyalty, respect… and most of all, freedom.

    Chapter 35


    ¡°Come on down to the Skull Door. Stand down, everything is okay,¡± Pierce¡¯s voice echoed in their minds through the mental link.


    Moments later, Evolon, Flint, Ignis, and Grok entered Silas Doombringer¡¯s office, still chattering about Grok¡¯s¡­ unique fashion choices. ¡°I really like that shade of crimson on you, Grok, it brings out your¡­ orcish complexion,¡± Evolon said, a slight smile playing on her lips as she eyed the muscular orc woman. ¡°Though the dripping blood is a bit much, don''t you think? Hopefully, it¡¯ll wash out of that rather fetching dress.¡±


    ¡°I sat on his face,¡± Grok explained, matter-of-factly, wiping stray droplets of blood from her crimson-stained dress with the back of her hand. ¡°His puny skull could not handle¡­ all of this,¡± she added, flexing her thighs for emphasis.


    ¡°Ah, my friends,¡± Pierce greeted them, a hint of relief evident in his voice. ¡°Silas, this is the adventuring party I told you about. They¡¯ve been¡­ instrumental in uncovering some rather significant discrepancies.¡±


    Silas Doombringer, his normally stern face etched with sadness, looked at the group. ¡°Discrepancies which, I understand, involve my¡­ trusted associates.¡±


    Pierce gestured to the overflowing piles of paper on Doombringer¡¯s desk. ¡°These reports, Silas, paint a dramatically different picture than the reality. Your henchmen¡ªTorvin, Mirage, Lucky, and Vivienne¡ªhave been systematically deceiving you.¡±


    ¡°Deceiving me?¡± Doombringer¡¯s voice rumbled with despair. ¡°I¡­ I thought they were loyal. I considered them¡­ friends.¡±


    ¡°Loyal to themselves, perhaps,¡± Flint muttered, already sifting through a stack of documents. He held up a particularly damning requisition form. ¡°Look at this. Torvin¡¯s requisition for ¡®heavy construction materials¡¯ for the new guard barracks. Turns out it was spent on¡­ a rather extravagant personal airship. A gaudy one, I might add, with custom-made gargoyle figureheads.¡±


    Evolon, pointed to another report. ¡°Mirage¡¯s ¡®diplomatic mission¡¯ to the Whispering Isles? Actually, a high-stakes gambling spree. He lost a fortune at the tables, apparently. And incurred some rather substantial debts.¡±


    Ignis, sniffed at a document. ¡°This one smells of Vivienne¡¯s perfume. ¡®Supply chain management optimization¡¯¡­ more like ¡®personal shopping spree at the Enchanted Emporium.¡¯ Extravagant taste, that woman. Look at this receipt for a diamond-encrusted comb for her pet griffon.¡±


    As the party detailed the extent of the deception, Doombringer¡¯s face grew increasingly grim. He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, a gesture of frustration and a deep sense of betrayal. ¡°They¡­ they were supposed to be taking care of my affairs, managing the city, while I grieved for my father. I entrusted them with so much.¡±


    Grok stepped forward, her expression surprisingly serious. ¡°They were building their own power base, Silas. And their ambitions extended far beyond mere embezzlement. They were planning to assassinate the Donner Party, then you, and seize control of the council.¡±


    Doombringer¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°Assassinate me? Join the council¡­ and then murder them as well? To what end?¡±


    ¡°To rule with an iron fist,¡± Flint stated flatly. ¡°They envisioned a Doombringer Empire, with themselves at the top, naturally.¡±


    A long, heavy silence filled the room. Doombringer sank into his ornate chair, his expression a mixture of anger, disbelief, and a profound sense of foolishness. ¡°I¡­ I trusted them. Gave them so much power. How could I have been so blind?¡±


    ¡°Speaking of power,¡± Pierce asked his party, ¡°what do we do with these twenty units of Cadium?¡±


    ¡°Give it to Grok, of course,¡± Evolon said, placing a hand on her friend¡¯s shoulder and smiling warmly. The rest of the group readily agreed.


    Grok, genuinely astonished by their generosity, blinked as a notification appeared in her vision: ¡°Cadium Procured, twenty units consumed.¡±


    Pierce nodded at Doombringer. ¡°A valuable lesson, Silas. One I learned about myself in my previous life. Trust, but verify.¡± He explained the concept, recounting his experiences working IT trouble tickets where users often claimed they had rebooted their devices, but checking the system uptime proved them wrong. Doombringer seemed to grasp the concept quickly, a spark of understanding flickering in his eyes.


    Changing the subject smoothly, just as tears began to well up in Silas¡¯ eyes, Pierce said, ¡°Silas, this is Ignis. He¡¯s an accomplished chef back on my planet. Would you mind showing him how your Mana Infusion Device works?¡±


    Doombringer readily agreed and led Ignis on a tour of his personal laboratory. The room was filled with arcane gadgets and a collection of what appeared to be failed contraptions. Ignis, wide-eyed with wonder, recognized several devices he had seen for sale on the streets of Doombringer, albeit in much less refined forms.


    ¡°What do you call this one?¡± Ignis asked, pointing to a complex contraption humming with magical energy.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well, it doesn¡¯t have a name yet,¡± Doombringer admitted. ¡°We¡¯ve been too busy refining the process to worry about nomenclature.¡±


    The group brainstormed, suggesting names like "Mana Forge," "Aetherium Engine," and "The Great Infuser." They eventually settled on "The Culinary Conduit," or just "Conduit" for short, a name that resonated with the device''s function.


    Ignis then sheepishly apologized for taking three crates full of the devices from the warehouse when they entered the castle. Silas simply laughed, suggesting it was a rounding error and that he could keep as many as he liked.


    As the initial shock of the betrayal wore off, the conversation turned to the future. Pierce, drawing on his experience managing teams, offered Doombringer advice on finding trustworthy individuals to manage his city, business, and planet. He even recommended a few honest, hard working people he had met during their scouting trip to the Clock Tower district. Ignis suggested bringing on Gustavo as his right-hand man to help him verify the information provided to him.


    ¡°Gustavo would be perfect,¡± Pierce said with a laugh. ¡°No one would suspect a slimy personality like his to actually be the one reporting the truth to the boss.¡±


    ¡°Your city¡­ it¡¯s impressive,¡± Flint said, sharing a look with his friends. ¡°The prices are certainly¡­ agreeable.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± Evolon added, ¡°the people¡­ they seem oppressed. Living in fear.¡±


    Doombringer sighed. ¡°Everyone seems so happy when I visit the City¡­¡±


    Pierce countered gently, ¡°You can¡¯t build a strong foundation on fear, Silas. You need loyalty, respect¡­ and most of all, freedom.¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Grok chimed in, ¡°no more invading other planets! Peace is good.¡±


    Doombringer considered their words carefully. ¡°I¡­ I see your point. Their methods¡­ Perhaps they need¡­ adjustment. I pledge to use my forces only for defense from now on. I will even loan out my undead army to defend my allies as needed, and I will call a gathering in the City to declare the end of oppression in Doombringer.¡±


    Flint stifled a yawn. ¡°Speaking of defense¡­ I¡¯d really like to defend my own bed tonight. With Ignis¡¯ portals, we can be anywhere in moments, right?¡± The rest of the group nodded in agreement, weariness finally catching up with them.


    Before they left, Doombringer¡¯s eyes twinkled with a hint of excitement. ¡°Before you go¡­ would you like to see my father¡¯s most cherished possession? Something only the council members know about?¡±


    He led them to a hidden chamber behind his office. Inside, a swirling vortex of energy shimmered and pulsed. ¡°This,¡± Doombringer announced, a note of pride in his voice, ¡°is a portal. But not just any portal. This one leads to a wider universe. A universe where mana density is far greater than in this world. There are planets where twenty units of Cadium is considered¡­ paltry. Where Cadium, being crystallized mana, is far more prevalent.¡±


    Pierce and the party exchanged excited glances. ¡°A wider magical universe?¡± Evolon breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. ¡°The possibilities¡­¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Doombringer said. ¡°I inherited the portal from my father. He used it sparingly, always hesitant, even fearful, of what he found on the other side. I¡¯ve been hesitant to use it myself, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°Adventure is what we do,¡± Pierce declared, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°But¡­¡± He looked at his companions, noting their fatigue. ¡°How about we take the weekend to wind down? This whole ordeal has been¡­ emotionally taxing.¡±


    The others readily agreed, a collective sigh of relief escaping them.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Doombringer said. ¡°Then let us plan an expedition for a few days from now. I can¡¯t wait to hear stories of your travels. My father never spoke of his time spent there, only hinting at the wonders and dangers that awaited beyond.¡±


    The portal shimmered and dissolved, depositing Pierce, Evolon, Flint, Ignis, and Grok back on Earth. They stumbled slightly, adjusting to the familiar gravity and the sudden absence of the ambient magic that had become almost background noise. A wave of exhaustion washed over them. They were home and safe For the first time in weeks, they would sleep in their own beds. A few minutes of driving or biking later, they were all tucked into their respective beds, Grok comfortably settled in Evolon¡¯s guest room adjusting to the soft bed and throwing most of the decorative pillows to the floor.


    The next morning, Saturday, their phones reminded them, signaling the start of a bright and clear day. The group, despite their interdimensional adventures, reconvened at their usual spot: the Waffle House. Miraculously, the restaurant had remained open throughout the recent invasion, a testament to the grit of its cook and manager, who had apparently fended off any unwelcome visitors with a combination of well-aimed frying pans and stern words. They eagerly served anyone who needed a hot meal in the aftermath of the chaos, their generator humming outside providing electricity to the small restaurant. The familiar smell of waffles and freshly brewed coffee was a welcome comfort.


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    Ignis, while enjoying his All-Star Special with biscuits and gravy rather than a waffle, pulled out his phone and dialed Roxie¡¯s number. He chatted with her for a while, the conversation flowing easily and naturally. Finally, emboldened by his recent triumphs and a newfound sense of confidence, he worked up the courage to ask her out on a real date, finally getting up the nerve to make a personal connection outside of Dungeons and Dragons. Roxie, surprised but pleased, accepted. Ignis grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. The date was set for that evening.


    After breakfast, the group activated another portal, this time leading back to Dunblag. Pierce sought out Gustavo, finding him amidst the bustling marketplace, haggling over the price of some exotic spices. ¡°Gustavo,¡± Pierce began, ¡°I have a proposition for you. Silas Doombringer needs a reliable, right-hand man. Someone to double-check the work of his newly appointed managers, to ensure they are indeed trustworthy. Someone who can¡¯t be easily fooled. I recommended you for the position.¡±


    Gustavo¡¯s eyes widened. His newfound wealth from the auction, while substantial, had proven to be a double-edged sword. The other merchants, envious of his sudden fortune, had blacklisted him, refusing to trade with him or even acknowledge his presence. He had a mountain of gold he couldn''t spend. ¡°Doombringer¡¯s right-hand man?¡± he repeated, a flicker of his old ambition returning to his eyes. ¡°I accept! It would be an honor, and a much-needed opportunity.¡±


    Evolon, meanwhile, spent her Saturday with Bethril, the orcish leatherworker. They worked side-by-side, crafting intricate leather armor, with gossip filling the workshop. Later, they relaxed at a local bathhouse, enjoying the steam and the soothing warmth of the mana-rich mud. Evolon realized that Bethril, despite her gruff exterior, needed some girl time, a chance to unwind and de-stress. She confided in Evolon about her troubles with her husband, Ongor. He was always so focused on his work, she explained, and then would gamble away their hard-earned savings at The Sands. Evolon listened patiently, offering words of comfort but wisely refraining from giving unsolicited advice. She understood that Bethril didn''t necessarily want her problems fixed, she just needed a trusted friend to talk to, someone who would listen without judgment.


    Flint, headed straight to the Red Sands arena. He entered the fighting pit and competed in three matches, betting on himself to win each one. Despite his victories, he was less than thrilled with his winnings. After his recent bouts, his odds were so bad that he barely doubled his money in the parley. Disappointed with the meager return, he spent the rest of his day in the Forges with Ongor. They exchanged smithing techniques, discussed the finer points of crafting weapons and armor, and debated the merits of different forging methods.


    Ignis returned to Chef Zep¡¯s restaurant, eager to put his culinary skills to good use. He offered to help in the kitchen, creating a special menu for that day only, showcasing dishes inspired by his Earthly culinary expertise. He also pitched an exciting idea to Chef Zep: ¡°How about we set up a regular exchange program. It would be great for both of our businesses, a chance to share our unique culinary styles.¡± Chef Zep, intrigued by the proposal and the potential for cross-cultural culinary exchange, readily agreed. They began to sketch out a tentative schedule for future collaborations, discussing logistics and menu ideas. Ignis left a portal between the two restaurants'' stockrooms open. He could easily close it with a thought if any problems ever arose.


    Grok, having no permanent residence on Earth other than the hideout in Dunblag, accepted Evolon¡¯s suggestion that they become roommates. It made perfect sense; they spent so much time together anyway, and sharing a living space would simplify their lives considerably. They even started playfully bickering about the logistics of sharing an apartment. Evolon teased Grok about her messiness, how she left plates, glasses, and dirty clothes scattered around the apartment. Grok, in turn, rolled her eyes at Evolon¡¯s extensive collection of beauty products crowding the bathroom counter, wondering why she needed so many different creams and lotions.


    Grok spent her day a little differently. Bromli had located a group of Drakes in the nearby mountains. Grok, feeling a pull towards these magnificent creatures, spent much of the day with them, making friends with the majestic beasts and helping to care for their young. She found a sense of purpose in nurturing the drakes, drawing on her experience working at the Clan Zotto stables back in Dunblag. A pang of sadness hit her as she thought of the empty stables and the friends she had lost in the invasion, but she pushed the grief aside, focusing on the present and the opportunity to help these incredible creatures. She mounted Bromli, activated her invisibility ring and proceeded with a secret mission in the city of Dunblag.


    Ignis¡¯s restaurant, now renamed ¡°Elysian Palate,¡± buzzed with an unusual energy. Tonight was the night. His date with Roxie. But it was also much more than that. It was the night his restaurant would be reborn, transformed into something truly special.


    Just before closing for the dinner rush, five sleek, metallic boxes appeared on the prep counter. Ignis, with a flourish and a touch of theatrical flair, revealed their contents: the Mana Infusion Devices, or as they now called them, "The Conduits." He gathered his staff, including a slightly bewildered Chef Zep, in the kitchen.


    ¡°Everyone,¡± Ignis announced, his voice filled with excitement and anticipation, ¡°I want to show you something incredible, something that will revolutionize how we cook.¡± He gestured towards the Conduits lined up on the counter, looking like simple microwaves with no buttons or dials. ¡°These,¡± he explained, ¡°are Mana Infusion Devices. They can imbue ordinary ingredients with mana, enhancing their natural flavors to an unbelievable degree, unlocking their true potential.¡±


    He demonstrated the device, placing a simple carrot inside the box, closing the door for a few seconds before opening the door and retrieving the orange vegetable. The change was instantaneous. The carrot, once common, glowed with a faint, internal light, almost as if it were radiating pure flavor. Chef Zep and the sous chefs cautiously tasted it. Their eyes widened in surprise and delight. ¡°Incredible,¡± he murmured, a hint of awe in his voice. ¡°The carrot¡­ it tastes¡­ more carrot-y than any carrot I¡¯ve ever had!¡± The group of sous chefs gathered around him chuckled, but they all nodded in agreement after trying a piece themselves. The difference was undeniable.


    Ignis then infused a piece of beef. The same transformation occurred. The beef looked richer, more succulent, the marbling more pronounced. ¡°Taste this,¡± he urged Chef Zep, a twinkle in his eye. ¡°It¡¯s like turning Skirt Steak into Kobe, but turned up to 11!¡±


    The chef took a bite. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, his eyes closing involuntarily as he experienced the explosion of taste. ¡°Magnificent!¡± he exclaimed, a genuine expression of pleasure on his face. ¡°The beef¡­ it¡¯s¡­ beefier! It¡¯s like¡­ like the essence of beef, concentrated and amplified!¡±


    The staff, initially skeptical of Ignis¡¯s claims, were now buzzing with excitement. They eagerly experimented with different ingredients, infusing everything from spices and herbs to vegetables and various cuts of meat. The results were consistently astonishing. The flavors were amplified, purer, more intense. It was as if the mundane versions of these foods were mere shadows of their true potential, a pale imitation of the real thing.


    Chef Zep, inspired by the transformative power of the Conduits, created a special, temporary menu for the evening, a fusion of Earthly and otherworldly ingredients, all enhanced by the Conduit. He called it ¡°The Convergence Menu,¡± a fitting name for the blending of culinary styles and the enhancement of natural flavors.


    The first diners arrived, curious about the buzz surrounding the restaurant and the rumors of magical cuisine. They ordered drinks and agreed to the new fixed menu, and their reactions were nothing short of ecstatic. Word spread quickly through the city and beyond. Food critics from across the region flocked to the Elysian Palate, eager to experience the culinary magic firsthand. Patrons lined up outside, willing to wait hours for a chance to taste the extraordinary food.


    The reviews were glowing, filled with superlatives and praise. Critics proclaimed the Elysian Palate as offering the best food they had ever tasted, a culinary experience unlike any other. And the most surprising part? The chef behind this culinary revolution was an Orc, not an invading Orc, but a peaceful resident of another planet, a gentle giant with a passion for food. He greeted every table at the end of their meal with grace and charisma.  The story became a sensation, adding to the restaurant¡¯s newfound fame and drawing even more curious diners.


    Meanwhile, Pierce, having concluded his business with Gustavo, returned home, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He met with his lawyer, Austin, an old friend from college. Over a relaxed dinner, they finalized the paperwork to manage the group¡¯s affairs while they were off adventuring. The bag of gold they had acquired was sold, and the substantial proceeds placed in a secure trust, ensuring their financial stability. Austin would handle everything, from paying bills to managing investments.


    Pierce also discussed the delicate matter of the group¡¯s jobs. They couldn¡¯t exactly hold down regular employment while exploring the universe and saving the world. Austin agreed to take care of the matter discreetly, informing their employers of their¡­ extended leave of absence, citing a vague but plausible excuse.


    "So," Austin began, swirling the remaining wine in his glass, "The Donner Party. I have to ask. Why?"


    Pierce chuckled, spearing a particularly succulent piece of medium-rare beef. "It''s a long story."


    "I''ve got time for my most important, and wealthiest client," Austin replied, leaning back in his chair.


    Pierce took a deep breath. "Okay, so, picture this: Four ravenous D&D players, fresh off the campaigns final session. We''re starving, right? We go to this place, packed to the gills, two-hour wait. The hostess, bless her heart, starts calling out, ''Donner party of four? Donner party of four?'' No one answers. She does it three times. My stomach¡¯s growling so loud you could probably hear it in the next county. Finally, I stand up and yell, ''We''re the Donner Party!''"


    Austin raised an eyebrow, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "Okay¡­I¡¯m starting to see where this is going."


    Pierce grinned. "Yeah, well, it gets better. We finally get seated, food arrives, and Flint, he¡¯s always been a bit¡­morbid¡­takes a bite of his steak and deadpan says, ''Tastes a lot like human.'' Evolon chimes in with, ''Needs more salt.'' And Ignis adds, ''Buttery, though. Very buttery.''"


    Austin burst out laughing. "You¡¯re kidding me."


    Pierce shook his head. "I wish. For the rest of the meal, we just kept going with it. ''Oh, this wine pairs nicely with¡­you know¡­long pig.'' ''Anyone want seconds on¡­shoulder?'' We were awful. Absolutely awful."


    "So, that¡¯s it? One morbid dinner conversation?"


    "Pretty much," Pierce admitted. "We kept the inside joke going, a week later when we rolled up new characters and started a new campaign, we needed a new party name. The Donner Party was fresh in our minds, and, well¡­it stuck. We figured it was memorable, at least."


    Austin chuckled, shaking his head. "Memorable is one word for it. I¡¯m just hoping the press doesn¡¯t get wind of the¡­inspiration¡­behind the name."


    Pierce shrugged. "Hey, all publicity is good publicity, right? Besides," he added with a wink, "it makes for a great conversation starter."


    "You guys are being hailed as heroes by some, and the cause of the calamity by others.  The world has been so involved in the Marvel movies for so long, it''s like you guys are real Avengers in the flesh, here on Earth."  Austin laughed at the absurdity.


    Sunday morning, the group, refreshed and ready for action, met up at ¡°The Castle,¡± a popular mountain biking trail system in Bentonville. They spent the morning riding the trails, navigating the challenging jumps, berms, and technical sections, enjoying the thrill of the ride and the camaraderie of their group. The city was showing visible signs of recovery from the recent invasion. Mountain biking tourists were returning to the area, a sure sign that things were getting back to normal and that the community was healing.


    For lunch, they headed to Wright¡¯s BBQ, a local favorite just off the square in Bentonville. The familiar aroma of smoked meats wafted through the air, a welcome change from the exotic, sometimes bizarre, smells of the other worlds they had recently visited. Surrounded by other mountain bikers, their bikes leaning against the wooden railings of the deck, they enjoyed the delicious food and the easy conversations. They relaxed in the sunshine, soaking up the natural beauty of their home planet, appreciating the familiar sights and sounds after their interdimensional travels. The casual atmosphere and the shared love of mountain biking created a sense of community and normalcy, a comforting reminder of their lives here on Earth.


    Monday morning arrived quickly. The weekend had flown by in a blur of activity and relaxation. The group, well-provisioned for a long trek, gathered at Silas Doombringer¡¯s office. They meticulously checked their gear, making sure they had enough supplies for an extended journey into the unknown. They packed pre-cooked meals, energy drinks, first-aid kits, and of course, their weapons and enchanted gear. A final headcount was made, and with a mix of excitement and a touch of nervous anticipation, they stepped through the shimmering portal to the wider universe, ready for whatever adventures awaited them in this new and expansive realm.

 Mara Bloodaxe

    Epilogue


    The midday sun beat down on the bustling orcish city of Dunblag, casting long, distorted shadows across the cobblestone streets. Mara Bloodaxe, wife of Hrothgar, Chief of Clan Zotto, and daughter of the previous chief, moved with a regal air, her every step radiating authority. Two hulking guards, their hands resting on the hilts of their battleaxes, followed close behind her, a silent testament to her status. Her days were a carefully orchestrated dance of tradition, duty, and subtle power plays. She oversaw the clan¡¯s resource allocation, ensuring that the forges had enough ore, the hunters brought back sufficient game, and the clan¡¯s coffers remained full. She mediated disputes between families, settling arguments over land rights and trade agreements with a firm but fair hand. She ensured the smooth functioning of their society, from organizing religious ceremonies to overseeing the training of young warriors. Her sharp mind, honed by years of navigating the treacherous currents of orcish politics, and her keen understanding of clan dynamics had earned her respect, even among those who chafed at her considerable influence.


    As the day drew to a close, the sun beginning its descent behind the walls surrounding Dunblag, Mara excused herself from a meeting with the clan¡¯s blacksmiths, promising to respond to their requests promptly. The clang of hammers on steel still echoed in the air as she left the forge. She walked briskly through the winding streets towards the chieftain¡¯s residence, a large, imposing structure built from dark grey stone. She needed to change for the formal dinner that evening, a gathering of clan leaders to discuss the recent¡­ unfortunate¡­ events involving the Doombringer and the ill-fated invasion. The memory of the brave warriors lost, sacrificed for a fool¡¯s errand orchestrated by a power-hungry outsider, still burned like a brand in her heart, fueling a simmering anger.


    Reaching her chambers, a spacious room decorated with thick furs, an array of gleaming weapons, and trophies from past battles ¨C a testament to her warrior heritage ¨C she dismissed her attending orc with a curt nod and a quiet word of thanks. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt suddenly oppressive. She began to unlace her intricately crafted leather armor, the familiar weight now feeling cumbersome, preparing to change into the ceremonial robes she would wear for the dinner.


    It was then that she noticed it. A flat, yellowish envelope, lying on her side of the bed, partially concealed by a pile of furs. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Orcish documents were typically inscribed on large scrolls, carefully rolled and tied with leather thongs, or etched onto metal plates. This¡­ flimsy material¡­ felt foreign and unsettling to her touch. Curiosity piqued, she picked it up. It was sealed with a strange, sticky substance, unlike the wax or clay seals she was accustomed to. Carefully, she broke the seal, a sense of unease growing within her.


    Inside the envelope were several small, rectangular objects. They were flat and rigid, and each one bore an image, like miniature paintings but with incredible detail as if someone tore an image from the world around her. Mara picked one up and examined it closely. It was a depiction of her husband, Hrothgar. He was handsome, as always, his broad shoulders and strong jawline radiating power and confidence. He was shown in a moment of quiet contemplation, his expression thoughtful, almost serene. He was wearing the traditional garb of a Zotto clan chief, a heavy cloak of bear fur draped over his broad shoulders.


    Mara felt a warmth spread through her chest. Despite the political machinations and the often-brutal realities of orcish life, she had always admired her husband¡¯s strength and leadership. He was a true orcish chief, a warrior who commanded respect and inspired loyalty, or so she had thought.


    She picked up the next picture. Her breath caught in her throat. It was Hrothgar again, but this time he was embracing another orcish woman. The woman was younger, her features softer than Mara¡¯s, her hair adorned with intricate braids interwoven with beads and feathers. The embrace was intimate, passionate, their bodies pressed close together. Mara¡¯s stomach twisted with a cold, sickening feeling, a wave of nausea rising in her throat.


    She snatched up the third picture, her hand trembling slightly. It was a scene from their own bedchamber, a place that should have been sacred, a symbol of their union. Hrothgar and the younger woman were together, their bodies entwined in a moment of carnal intimacy, the woman wearing nothing but a beautiful diamond necklace exactly like the one Hrothgar had given to her earlier this week. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through Mara, threatening to consume her. How dare he? How dare he betray her, defile their marriage bed, dishonor their clan with this blatant infidelity?


    For a moment, she was consumed by fury, a primal urge to lash out, to unleash her wrath upon Hrothgar and the woman who had stolen his affections. But then, as quickly as it had come, the rage subsided, replaced by a cold, calculating anger. Mara had survived in the cutthroat world of orcish high society, where betrayal and treachery were commonplace, by being cunning, not impulsive. She knew that acting rashly, giving in to her emotions, would only weaken her position, making her a target for her rivals. She needed to think, to strategize, to plan her next move with the same careful precision she used to manage the clan¡¯s resources.


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    Taking a deep breath, she regained control of her emotions. She placed the damning pictures back in the envelope, her fingers brushing against the strange, smooth material. She then carefully tucked the envelope within the pages of a dry, leather-bound tome titled "A Guide to Leading Unruly Orcs," a book she often consulted for advice on managing the more¡­ spirited members of her clan. It was a fitting hiding place, she thought, the irony not lost on her. She would deal with this later, after the dinner. For now, she had a role to play, a performance to give, and the fate of her clan, perhaps, hanging in the balance.


    She changed into her ceremonial robes, choosing a deep crimson that reflected her status and her simmering anger. Her movements were deliberate and controlled, each action precise and purposeful. She applied her war paint, the intricate designs a mask concealing her inner turmoil, her hand steady despite the storm raging within her. She would not let her personal issues, however devastating, interfere with her duties to the clan.


    As she walked towards the great hall where the dinner was to be held, the heavy copper-wood doors looming before her, she summoned a trusted friend, a female orc named Zola, through their mental link. ¡°Zola,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible even to Zola¡¯s trained mind, ¡°I need your help. I have discovered something¡­ disturbing. I will tell you about it later, when we are alone. For now, I need you to observe Hrothgar. Watch him closely. See who he speaks with, who he looks at. And Zola¡­ be discreet. This must not become clan gossip before I am ready.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Mara,¡± Zola replied, her voice laced with concern and loyalty. ¡°I will not fail you. My eyes will be on him, and my ears open for any whispers.¡±


    The great hall was filled with the boisterous chatter of orcish leaders, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and strong ale. Hrothgar, resplendent in his chieftain¡¯s regalia, a magnificent cloak of fur draped over his broad shoulders, greeted Mara with a warm smile and a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. He seemed oblivious to the storm brewing within her, his jovial demeanor a stark contrast to the cold fury that gripped her heart.


    The dinner began. Mara ate and drank sparingly, participating in the conversation with forced enthusiasm, her face a mask of composure, a professional mask she had perfected over years of political maneuvering. She listened as the leaders discussed the aftermath of the ill-fated invasion, the heavy losses they had suffered, the need to rebuild their strength, reclaim their honor, and avenge their fallen warriors. She noted the undercurrent of resentment towards Hrothgar, the whispers about his poor leadership and the questionable advice he had received from the Doombringer.


    Throughout the meal, Zola kept a close eye on Hrothgar. She noticed that he frequently glanced towards a younger orcish woman sitting at the far end of the table, a woman with long, flowing black hair and a delicate bone structure. Zola also observed that the woman wore a beautiful diamond necklace, a gift of significant value, its facets catching the light and sparkling brightly.


    As the dinner progressed, the atmosphere growing more raucous and the orcish ale flowing freely, Mara waited for the right moment, her mind racing, calculating, planning. She had to be careful, strategic. She couldn¡¯t afford to make a mistake, not with so much at stake.


    Finally, the opportunity presented itself. Hrothgar, emboldened by the ale, was speaking to a group of leaders, boasting about his plans for the clan¡¯s future, his voice loud and arrogant. Mara, her expression calm and controlled leaned in close, as if to share a private word, her breath hot against his ear.


    ¡°Hrothgar,¡± she whispered, her voice low and dangerous, a silken thread of menace woven into its fabric, ¡°I know about the young one.¡±


    Hrothgar¡¯s eyes widened in shock, his jovial expression replaced by a look of fear and panic. He started to choke, his face turning from green to an alarming shade of red, his hands clutching at his throat, gasping for air. The other leaders turned to look, their faces etched with confusion and concern.


    Hrothgar collapsed, his body hitting the table with a loud thud, sending plates and goblets crashing to the floor. He was dead.


    A stunned silence filled the hall, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. All eyes were on Mara as she stood, wine glass in hand, their gazes filled with a mixture of shock, awe, and a hint of fear. She stood there, her face impassive, her gaze steady, the empty poison vial discreetly tucked away in her pocket.


    ¡°My husband is dead,¡± she announced, her voice ringing out through the hall, clear and commanding. ¡°I am now single.¡± She paused, letting her words sink in, the weight of her declaration hanging heavy in the air. ¡°And I am looking for a loyal mate, someone who will help me lead Clan Zotto back to glory. Someone who will not betray our clan for personal gain, someone who will not squander our resources on selfish pleasures. Someone who will avenge our fallen warriors and restore our honor.¡±


    The leaders of the clan exchanged glances, a mixture of shock, fear, and intrigue in their eyes, many with smiles on their faces. They knew that Mara was a force to be reckoned with, a cunning and capable leader. She was intelligent, powerful, and ruthless when necessary, a true orcish warrior in every sense of the word. She had proven her worth time and time again, and now, with Hrothgar gone, she was the obvious choice to lead the clan.


    Mara then focused her mind, and absorbed the 1 Cadium her husband possessed, adding it to her own single Cadium. Her status screen, visible only to her, reflected her new total: 2 Cadium. She would prove herself as a powerful leader in her own right as a force to be reckoned with. The future of Clan Zotto was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Mara Bloodaxe would be at the helm, her hand firmly on the rudder.

 Final character sheets at the end of Book 1

    Final character sheets at the end of Book 1


    Impiercenator (Pierce), Healer, level 24


    Defense base 3, modified 87


    Strength base 14, modified 94


    Dexterity 14, modified 75


    Stamina 14, modified 50


    Constitution 14, modified 34


    Wisdom 13, modified 123


    Intelligence 13, modified 78


    Cadium 513


    Gold 10670


    Hit Points: 254


    Mana: 643


    Mana Regen: 64


    HP Regen: 25


    Spell Strength: 260


    Physical Damage: 151


    Spells: Basic Heal, Cure Ailment, Boon, Purify, Mana Shield, Light, Eagle Eye, Waterbreathing, Levitate, Cold Resistance, Pocket Tent, Repel Insect, Compass, Greater Invisibility, Major Barrier, Regenerate.


    Class Perk: Overhealth, Spell Cascade, Calm Mind, Multiple healing


    Job: Enchanter level 20


    Items: Staff of Healing - 10% reduction in mana cost for healing spells, 41 fire, 33 cold, and 50 acid damage (melee), Effect - damage amounts also added to healing power. (Enchanted)


    Leather Breastplate: 31 dex, 30 wisdom, 45 int, Effect - Warmth (Enchanted)


    Fine Banded Leather Vambraces: 54 armor, 55 str, 26 stam, 5 dex, 45 wis, Effect - Mana Sight. (Enchanted)


    Fine Steel Shortsword - 44 damage, 15 str, 15 dex, 15 wis, Effect - Cold resistance (Enchanted)


    Evolon, Archer/Hunter, level 23


    Defense base 2, modified 106


    Strength base 10, modified 25


    Dexterity 44, modified 167


    Stamina 10, modified 25


    Constitution 8, modified 35


    Wisdom 7, modified 69


    Intelligence 5, modified 6


    Cadium 27


    Gold 10020


    Hit Points: 253


    Mana: 98


    Mana Regen: 9.8


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    HP Regen: 25


    Spell Strength: 12


    Physical Damage: 457


    Spells: Pierce, Piercer, Harvest, Triple arrow, Chain Arrow


    Class Perk: Bleed, Critical Arrows, Find Trap, Deadeye


    Job: Bowyer level 5, Fletcher level 11, Tanner level 11, Leatherworking level 12


    Items: Compound Bow - 90 fire damage, 48 shadow damage (Enchanted)


    Leather Breastplate - 78 dex, 46 wis (Enchanted)


    Fine Banded Leather Vambraces - 54 armor, 5 str, 35 dex, 15 stam, 26 con, 5 wis, Effect Night Sight (Enchanted)


    Fine Steel Shortsword - 44 damage, 15 str, 15 dex, 15 wis, Effect - Compass (Enchanted)


    Copper-wood Bow - 276 damage (Enchanted)


    Simple Necklace - Effect - Heat Sight (Enchanted)


    Flint Hammerbrew, Fighter, level 23


    Defense base 5, modified 212


    Strength base 28, modified 104


    Dexterity 20, modified 77


    Stamina 12, modified 47


    Constitution 14, modified 74


    Wisdom 5, modified 45


    Intelligence 4, modified 19


    Cadium 22


    Gold 10603


    Hit Points: 304


    Mana: 69


    Mana Regen: 6.9


    HP Regen: 30


    Spell Strength: 24


    Physical Damage: 225


    Spells: Challenge, Shield Bash, Bastion, Retaliation, Steel Skin


    Class Perk: Armor Up, Shockwave, Health Link, Iron Will


    Job: Metalsmith level 12, Weaponsmith level 10


    Items: Titanium Hammer - 39 fire, 45 ice, 22 crushing damage (Enchanted)


    Chronite Armor - 50 armor, 32 dex, 25 con, Effect - Immune to kinetic force (Enchanted)


    Cap Shield - 32 armor, 51 str, 35 stam (Enchanted)


    Raw Metal Shield - 32 armor, 51 str, 35 stam, Effect - Can be moved as if it has no weight (Enchanted)


    Fine Banded Leather Vambraces - 54 armor, 5 str, 5 dex, 30 con, 25 wis, 25 int, Effect - Lightsource (Enchanted)


    Fine Steel Shortsword - 44 damage, 15 str, 15 dex, 15 wis, Effect - Insect Repellant (Enchanted)


    Ignis, Wizard, level 23


    Defense base 5, modified 73


    Strength base 7, modified 27


    Dexterity 7, modified 27


    Stamina 10, modified 10


    Constitution 10, modified 59


    Wisdom 22, modified 125


    Intelligence 22, modified 108


    Cadium 20


    Gold 10042


    Hit Points: 125


    Mana: 156


    Mana Regen: 15


    HP Regen: 12


    Spell Strength: 273


    Physical Damage: 71


    Spells: Fireblast, Iceblast, Time Stop, Anchor, Portal, Lightning Bolt, Nullify Magic


    Class Perk: Resistance, Doublecast, Recover, Spell Penetration


    Job: Chef level 27, Butcher level 13


    Items: Azure Arcanum (Robe) - 41 int, 33 wis, 19 con, Effect - Increase spell effect duration by 20% (Enchanted)


    Magic Wand - 132 to all spell damage (Enchanted)


    Fine Banded Leather Vambraces - 54 armor, 5 str, 5 dex, 30 con, 55 wis, 45 int, Effect - Heat Sight (Enchanted)


    Fine Steel Shortsword - 44 damage, 15 str, 15 dex, 15 wis, Effect - Waterbreathing (Enchanted)


    49 Culinary Conduit - Gathers ambient mana infusing it into raw cooking ingredients turning it into magical cooking ingredients while enhancing the flavor (Enchanted)


    Grok, Beast Master, level 23


    Defense base 4, modified 74


    Strength base 10, modified 50


    Dexterity 10, modified 69


    Stamina 9, modified 9


    Constitution 10, modified 10


    Wisdom 15, modified 77


    Intelligence 15, modified 35


    Cadium 22


    Gold 10050


    Hit Points: 140


    Mana: 107


    Mana Regen: 10


    HP Regen: 14


    Spell Strength: 45


    Physical Damage: 121


    Spells: Charm Animal, Roar, Mend of the Wild, Beast Endurance, Pak Assault


    Class Perk: Share Roar, Danger Sense, Shared Senses, Beastial Fury


    Job: Alchemist level 21


    Items: Leather Breastplate - 19 dex, 22 int, 20 wis (Enchanted)


    Fine Banded Leather Vambraces - 54 armor, 25 str, 25 dex, 25 wis, Effect - Eagle Eye (Enchanted)


    Fine Steel Shortsword - 44 damage, 15 str, 15 wis, Effect - Levitate (Enchanted)


    Ring of greater Invisibility - Effect - Greater Invisibility (Enchanted)