《Savage Utopia [Peaceful system exploited for fighting - LitRPG]》


 Side Content: World Map

    Lore tidbits


    -Octants: The Frontier has eight inhabited zones, known as octants, that correspond to the eight Shores of Awakening scattered across the land.


    -Shores of Awakening: Shores of Awakening are places along the coast of the Frontier where humans appear after being granted access to the Concord. In the Better Times, winged boonkin created by the goddess would carry people safely to the shore. Now that demons have taken over the Frontier¡¯s administration, new arrivals are allowed to drop straight into the ocean. A large percentage of them die from exposure, drowning, being dashed against cliffs or a rocky sea floor, or even impact with the water itself.


    -Name: The world was technically given the name Faerlon by Era, but many would informally call it the Frontier instead. After the goddess¡¯s death, someone began calling it the ¡®Forlorn Frontier¡¯ instead of the ¡®Faerlon Frontier¡¯, and the name stuck. These days, there are very few lifers who refer to the Frontier by its original name.


    -Timeline: Humans have been sent to the Frontier for the last 50 years, with the first 25 years known as the Better Times, marked by peace and prosperity with angels guiding humanity on behalf of the goddess, providing them with the knowledge and guidance needed to flourish.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    In the 25th year, the goddess was murdered by a lifer named Crow, and the world was thrown into chaos. This event is referred to as the Deicide. The angels disappeared, and without the rigid structure of the divine powers, humanity collapsed in on itself in a mad scramble for power. What followed was a ten-year-long war known as the Strife, human factions fighting both each other and the surging monster populations. This resulted in countless deaths and a near-collapse of civilization before a shaky stalemate was reached.


    In the fifteen years since, little progress has been made toward rebuilding what was lost. In fact, humanity is pushed back on almost every front by ever-increasing monster attacks. At least they are mostly too busy fighting the beasts to consider warring with each other.


    -Monsters: The Frontier was once a safe and verdant place, and lifers roamed freely across its open lands. However, in the years after the goddess¡¯s death, demons emerged to replace the angels that abandoned humanity, ingratiating themselves in everyday society by offering tempting contracts with mortals and getting them hooked on their various infernal services.


    At the same time, a foul corruption began to spread out from the center of the continent, which became known as the Unmaking. Inside the Unmaking was a terrible, unfathomable being, the Devil Queen, who revealed herself in Era¡¯s absence and began giving birth to monsters that spread out from her fortress, the Hellmouth, and blanketed the land. With an unquenchable hatred for all mankind, they drove the squabbling humans back to the coasts and threatened to wipe them out entirely.

 Side Content: Octant Six Map

    Lore tidbits


    -The Hinterland: The Hinterland is the area that makes up the interior of the Sixth Octant. It is considered ¡®relatively safe¡¯ by Frontier standards due to the protection provided by Stormfront, but monsters can slip past its defenses, and do so regularly, leaving a modest infestation to terrorize the coastal cities and their overland trade routes.


    The Hinterland largely consists of lush forests, rolling plains, and clear lakes. Judging only by appearance, it is an idyllic place.


    -Sheerhome: The largest city of the Sixth Octant, ruled by the widely feared and disliked Lord Brimstone. Its chief exports are iron and slaves, and the lord commands a sizable militia of Laborers, with which he is able to deter attempts at overthrowing him either from within or without.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Sheerhome consists of five major districts: Topside, Darkside, Cliffside, Seaside, and the Outside.


    -Stormfront: A fortified city at the northeast edge of the Sixth Octant. Supported by a chain of smaller fortresses, Stormfront holds the line against the monster hordes through the efforts of intrepid, high-level lifers and Lady Winter¡¯s vast armies of undead cannon fodder.


    Lady Winter is one of the older lifers on the Frontier, having served as Stormfront¡¯s ruler ever since the start of the Deicide.


    -The Lords¡¯ Council: The Lords¡¯ Council is a loose alliance consisting of the regional rulers of the Sixth Octant¡¯s major settlements. They are constantly scheming against one another, but are forced to cooperate in some fashion both to repel foreign interference from other octants, and to provide men and supplies to Stormfront, without which the Hinterland would quickly be overrun by monster hordes.


    It is generally agreed that Lady Winter of Stormfront is the most powerful of the council members, being one of a very small number of Level 30 lifers, who is also capable of raising corpses to fight in her undead armies.

 Chapter 1 - Could I Borrow Your Demon Real Quick?

    [Ah yes, the ten Professions¡­]


    [Artisan, Builder, Cook, Entertainer, Explorer, Farmer, Laborer, Physician, Scholar, and Trader. Adopting these, the poor souls that arrive at Faerlon after death¡ªcriminals and scoundrels of the worst sort¡ªare given a second chance to lead productive, peaceful lives while enjoying the many blessings of the Concord system. A ¡®do-over¡¯ for those dealt a bad hand by fate.]


    [Under the goddess¡¯s wise guidance, they will surely all live in perfect harmony.]


    [Wait¡ªwhat are they doing? They¡¯re¡­ They¡¯re not supposed to use their abilities that way.]


    [No, don¡¯t do that! Stop killing each other!]


    [Oh dear¡­]


    Will


    Three men and five chimps sat in a rough circle, smoking cigarettes and making light conversation. It had been a long walk from Sheerhome, and if Will¡¯s gut feeling was anything to go by, they still had a long day ahead of them.


    Will took a last drag off his cigarette, put out the smoldering butt against a nearby rock, and blew a sharp stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth. ¡°All right fellas, break time¡¯s done. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    The chimps glowered. They huddled closer together, hunching their furry shoulders protectively over their smokes as though he might snatch them away if they weren¡¯t careful.


    Kiddo jumped up, a hand resting on the rusted shortsword hanging at his side. His wild straw hair was badly tamed by a knitted red cap, which only pushed down the blond tangle so it half-covered his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m ready, Master One-Eye!¡± he said, a little too loudly considering the nature of their mission. Will considered giving the lad another lecture on the essence of subterfuge, but settled for a weary sigh instead.


    Mongrel lounged on a rotted log, one leg steepled on top, the other outstretched in the spring-thawed undergrowth. Looking at least half a chimp himself¡ªthe fabled missing link, perhaps?¡ªthe odd little man pretended not to have heard. Mongrel was squat, with long, gangly limbs and a big, round belly and a thin, floppy neck that made him look put together all wrong. He chewed on a piece of jerky, the end sticking out between his crooked teeth and slowly being retracted inside as he worried at the aged meat.


    Will stood, strapping on his sword belt; took comfort in the familiar weight of the saber on his hip. He clapped his hands together. ¡°Come on, gentlemen. I can¡¯t afford to waste AP surveilling this place all day, and I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want to sit around getting your asses wet. Get your boys moving, Mongrel. That¡¯s an order.¡±


    Mongrel glanced over, scratching at his belly, and gave a haughty snort. He made no show of rising. ¡°Since when do you give me orders, boy?¡±


    ¡°I seem to remember someone saying that being in charge was too much work.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, counter argument¡ªshut up.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯ll make you get up¡ªgladly.¡±


    Mongrel attempted to ignore him for another several moments, but quickly withered under Will¡¯s one-eyed stare. Grumbling a stream of curses, he rolled off the log and onto his feet, wiping bits of wet mulch off the back of his trousers. His own belt fit him poorly, sword hanging askew and frequently swinging between his legs to trip him up. His boots were mismatched, a brown and a black, one or both likely stolen from somewhere. Every time Will looked at the man, he was met with a fresh wave of morbid fascination at the pure chaos of his presentation. Still, there was a shrewd glint in the little man¡¯s eyes, as though he were playing the whole world a prank with his lazy oaf routine.


    At a sharp whistle from Mongrel, the chimps put out their cigarettes and rose to form up in a somewhat orderly group around him. Three wore shortbows in soft leather cases on their backs, while two hefted heavy wooden mallets. They were Mongrel¡¯s familiars, each one wearing an open-front vest with a number sewn onto the breast in yellow¡ªone through five¡ªas well as a larger matching number on the back.


    ¡®Kill bad fucker man now?¡¯ Number One signed with his hands. He was the oldest of the boys, with as much gray as black in his sparse fur, which made him the de facto leader of their little troupe.


    ¡°Yes¡ª¡± Mongrel began.


    ¡°Not if we can help it,¡± Will interjected. ¡°We¡¯re here for the demon, nothing else. We¡¯ll be ready for a fight, but I¡¯d like to avoid one if possible.¡±


    Mongrel''s frown made his puffy face look even uglier. He scratched at his teacup-sized bald spot. ¡°What about the bounty?¡± he asked. ¡°That Buck fellow¡¯s got a big price on his head.¡±


    Will nodded patiently. ¡°So he does. And for good reason.¡±


    ¡°I hear he put on a play mocking Brimstone right in his own city. No wonder the old bastard¡¯s all fired up over him.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s true, but I do know that he¡¯s proven himself to be quite the nuisance over the last few months, hitting slave convoys between Sheerhome and Timbryhall. My informants think he¡¯s at least Level 16, which means he¡¯s unlocked his semblance, which means¡­¡± He looked around at everyone in turn, even the chimps, waiting for someone to fill in the blank.


    ¡®Means be careful?¡¯ signed Number One.


    Will nodded. ¡°Yes, very good. I¡¯m glad somebody¡¯s paying attention. Now, let¡¯s take our places, people. Remember, I¡¯m going up first. I¡¯ll Pulse if things start looking dicey, and that¡¯s when the rest of you come in. Got it?¡±


    There were murmurs of assent from the men and a few bobbing nods from the chimps. Good enough, Will thought, and took the lead as they began trudging up the hilly forest.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    A bit of winter chill clung to the air, unwilling to release its grip from the land and give way for true spring. The sun shone down through green conifers swaying in the wind, dappling the frosty forest floor in a sliding patchwork of light and shadow. In the distance, a woodpecker drummed out a too-quick beat to their march. Ahead, a bushy-tailed squirrel shot up the trunk of a pine, peered suspiciously at them through the branches high above.


    They crested the incline and reached the edge of the wood, trees replaced by manmade works in the bowl-shaped stretch of land that opened up below. A loose cluster of houses huddled together, surrounded by fields that had not been tended in years. Millstone was one of many abandoned villages on the Frontier, its inhabitants having fled to the better defended cities once monster attacks began ramping up.


    A large hall with a slanted roof reminiscent of an overturned boat dominated the village, standing head and shoulders above its squat neighbors. It was also the only building with light pouring out of the cracks in its shuttered windows.


    Will crouched low so that he was halfway concealed behind shrubbery, and the others followed his lead. ¡°Detect [Life],¡± he murmured, words thrumming with power, and one of the fourteen sparkling gems on his left forearm winked out.


    The world appeared to change, trees around him taking on a soft glow, branches trailing spectral afterimages when they moved. In the village, a grouping of small lights shining through the wall of the longhouse displayed the presence of humans.


    Will looked around carefully¡ªstudying Millstone itself, then the fields, then the treeline¡ªbut there was no sign of any other people. Good. That meant they didn¡¯t have anyone on watch. Irresponsible on Buck¡¯s part, but it suited Will just fine.


    ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± he said. ¡°No lookouts.¡±


    Mongrel nodded, stuffing another bit of jerky in his mouth. He gave an order in sign, and the three chimps with bows each picked their own sturdy tree and scrambled up it. They perched themselves in the coniferous crowns at least fifty feet up, where they had perfect vantage points over the village. The two that remained, along with Mongrel and Kiddo, followed at a good distance as Will descended into Millstone.


    He kept his saber sheathed, but took one of the small throwing knives he kept strapped at the back of his belt¡ªits blade only finger-length¡ªand palmed it in a thin-gloved hand so none of it showed. Just in case, he thought. If things did turn violent, he wasn¡¯t sure he liked his odds in a fair fight.


    The moving motes of light inside the longhouse became larger and clearer the closer he got, separating from one another so he could tell them apart. There were more people inside the longhouse than he had expected. He counted eight. Buck must have recruited some of the slaves from the convoys he had hit, not just selling them on.


    Will walked along a path where weeds had begun furtively poking their heads through the thaw, passed old husks of buildings that had once been homes. More than one had its woodwork scored with claw marks or tooth prints.


    Reaching the longhouse, Will pulled low his pinned-up left sleeve so it covered his AP crystals. He could vaguely make out singing and laughing inside. Maybe even an instrument being played. He didn''t make out the demon among these men, but he hadn''t expected to, either. Demons did not appear on a Detect [Life]. He could have done a separate scan for her, but decided that he didn''t want to waste the AP.


    Forcing back a wave of apprehension, Will raised a fist and pounded on the faded double doors. The ghostly figures inside became very still, and their merriment went dead at once. One figure moved, nearing the doors. The others stayed put.


    Will backed away several steps as the doors were unlatched and swung open, revealing a handsome man standing confidently beneath the portal, arms crossed, backlit by firelight. He had perfectly styled hair worn swept back, and wore a fur-lined jacket; open at the front to show off a bare, lean-muscled torso beneath. He wore his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, making no effort to hide his sheet.


    ¡°We don¡¯t get many visitors around here,¡± the man said in a full, almost sing-song voice that seemed made for telling epic tales or reciting poetry. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re here for tea.¡± He glanced at Will¡¯s covered left arm, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°You¡¯re Big Deal Buck, I take it?¡± Will asked.


    The man nodded. ¡°Always happy to meet a fan.¡±


    ¡°Afraid I¡¯m not here for an autograph.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not, are you? As it happens, your reputation precedes you, too.¡± Buck motioned to his left eye with a pinky finger. ¡°You¡¯re Brimstone¡¯s pet killer. What is it he calls you again?¡±


    ¡°I am the lord¡¯s Misfortune,¡± Will supplied dryly. He hated that title.


    ¡°Aha. You have quite the reputation, Mr. One-Eye. The ghost stories they tell about you are enough to make a big tough Laborer shiver in his boots.¡± Buck did not look particularly intimidated. He shrugged, and his smirk grew into an infuriatingly self-confident grin, showing immaculate teeth. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m not too partial to those stories myself. Bit morbid for my taste. I prefer the romantic ones.¡± He tapped the side of his nose. ¡°I was wondering when old Brimstone was going to start sending some real professionals after me.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re mistaken. I¡¯m here to bargain with you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? You going to ask politely before you string me up by my own intestines?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not out to kill you.¡±


    Buck snorted out a laugh. ¡°Right. You know, people used to put a bit of effort into their lies.¡±


    ¡°I heard you have a demon. I want to borrow her. You do me that favor, and I¡¯ll let you and your people go, safe and sound. I¡¯ll tell Brimstone you¡¯d already cleared out by the time I got here, trail gone cold.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll let me go, will you? That¡¯s right charitable of you, Mr. One-Eye. Isn¡¯t it, boys?¡± Buck glanced over his shoulder as rough-looking men began streaming out of the longhouse. They formed up on either side of him, all eight of them, just as the duration of Will¡¯s Detect [Life] ran out, and the glow faded. The men wore their left arms covered, effectively concealing Profession, level, and current AP. They carried an assortment of weapons, ranging from swords to knives to clubs.


    Buck himself stripped out of his fur-lined jacket and tossed it nonchalantly aside, taking pride in showing off the seventeen sparkling AP crystals that studded his left arm. ¡°So?¡± he said, rattling a saber on his hip that was almost a twin to Will¡¯s own. ¡°May I have this dance?¡±


    I guess that means no deal, Will thought sourly. Why can¡¯t anyone be reasonable in this damn place?


    He sighed. Standing sidelong to conceal his off-hand, he made a series of quick hand signs. ¡®Amp (Two): Pulse.¡¯


    Targeting a random spot twenty feet off to his left, he cast the skill, and a sudden ripple went through the air. Not quite a gust of wind, or a shockwave, but something inside the mind. Like the tugging sense of being watched by someone standing just outside your peripheral vision, only stronger. Instinctively, the men all turned to investigate the source of the disturbance.


    Which left them perfectly exposed to the arrows that came whistling out of the golden sunset. Three fletched lengths of wood found three targets. There were cries of shock and pain. Men scrambled; fumbling for weapons, whipping around, shouting in confusion.


    Not giving fear time to set in, Will capitalized on the turmoil as he flipped the palmed throwing knife up between pointer and middle finger, then tossed it with a sharp flick of his wrist. Buck caught the danger and moved, frighteningly quick, but not fast enough to avoid the blade scraping a shallow cut across his cheek before flipping away.


    Another wave of arrows came, and Will was reinforced from behind by men and beasts pounding up toward the longhouse. Buck paid none of it any mind. Neither did Will. The two of them circled about each other like wary tomcats, drawing steel.


    ¡°Throwing knives, huh?¡± Buck said with an incredulous smile. ¡°There¡¯s more showman in you than I thought. And here I was assuming this would be a dull affair.¡± The Entertainer took an easy stance; lithe, naked chest lit double by golden sunset before and amber flame behind.


    Will took a more defensive posture, shielding his vitals. It seemed a thin comfort, then. His hands were clammy, and he found that he was gripping the saber too tight, forced himself to relax.


    This is going to hurt.

 Chapter 2 - Could I Borrow Your Demon Real Quick? [2]

    Will


    Buck made the first move. He launched into a soaring, dizzyingly fast leap. He spun in the air, a whirlwind of flashing metal. Will barely sidestepped, Buck¡¯s saber whooshing only half an inch from his ear.


    Buck had used at least two separate skills for the maneuver. Flash Step for the sudden burst of movement and Panache for the impossible number of mid-air rotations. Will chided himself for getting distracted by details, forced his mind to go blank as he deflected another cut.


    I just need to hold him off long enough. Can¡¯t let him beat me, but I also can¡¯t push him so hard that he feels cornered into using his semblance. That second one would not be a problem, he surmised.


    Will dodged and parried furiously, struggling to turn aside the serpent-quick blows Buck sent his way. The Entertainer moved in a showy, drunken swagger that well suited his Profession, making him nearly impossible to predict. When he looked off-balance, he instead pivoted on one foot and launched a daring thrust, poised like a dancer. When he looked to be preparing for a leap, he instead went low with a sweeping kick that Will only narrowly scrambled over. When he looked as though he was about to pile on the pressure, he instead hung back with that infuriating grin. Taking his time. Playing with his food.


    Will realized that he could not keep playing defense, or Buck would pressure him right off his feet. Despite the fact that only moments had passed, his back was already plastered with sweat, and he pushed sharp, hissing breaths through clenched teeth.


    Feigning a retreat from one of Buck¡¯s diagonal cuts, Will Repelled off the ground with his back foot, immediately reversing his momentum and sending himself forward. Buck laughed as he parried, dancing sideways and allowing Will to barrel past.


    ¡°Good one!¡± the Entertainer called good-naturedly. ¡°Allow me to retort.¡±


    But Will was not done. Still spinning around to face his opponent, he readied a Dash. The best movement skill available to Explorers, it was typically considered the lesser version of the Entertainers¡¯ Flash Step.


    But not to Will. He had a secret that made Dash by far the more attractive alternative.


    Will launched into stomach-lurching motion, the world seeming to warp around him with the speed of his advance. He felt himself catch on something, and came to a staggering halt just before a man wrestling with a chimp, the two of them stumbling off down the hill like drunken dance partners.


    I definitely hit something there, didn¡¯t I?


    Triumphant, Will looked back to see if his sword had found its mark, only to notice a growing blotch of red across his stomach. Separating a tear in his clothing, he found a long, nasty-looking cut.


    ¡°Motherfucker,¡± he muttered. He directed a glare at Buck, who came sauntering unharmed along the overgrown path, swinging his bloodied weapon in lazy figure-8s.


    ¡°Close one, there,¡± Buck said, his tone still light and bouncy. ¡°Try again, why don¡¯t you? Maybe you¡¯ll have better luck.¡± He hung his saber off to his left, leaving himself completely exposed. There was a glint in his eyes that was equal parts playful and lethal.


    ¡°Master One-Eye, I¡¯ve got your back!¡± cried a voice, and a young man came barreling out of the chaos to put himself between Will and the enemy, raising a shaky sword to bring down on the enemy.


    Will did not have time to cry out a warning. Buck skidded into a Flash Step, kicking up gravel as he slid past the boy. A moment later, Kiddo''s head tumbled off his shoulders. It rolled toward Will, red cap still tugged past his ears, a look of open-mouthed shock on his twitching face. It went past him and continued down the hill out of sight. The body fell in a heap like a puppet with its strings cut, severed neck watering the earth with warm blood.


    Will had no time to be annoyed at the boy¡¯s stupidity or saddened by his death. For the moment, he let it flow right past him, allowed it to fade to mental static.


    Buck had not even come to a full stop before he transitioned into another assault on Will. He soared high in the air, and when Will rolled right to keep Buck out of his blind spot, wincing at the burning pain in his midsection. Buck seemed to springboard off the air itself, finding purchase on nothing and instantly changing his momentum to stay on top of Will. Again, he scrambled out of the way, but as soon as Buck¡¯s feet hit the ground, he moved into a Flash Step that cut the distance between them lightning-quick.


    Will stumbled away from that exchange with another wound, clutching at his right shoulder with his free hand, blood trickling between his fingers. He rolled his arm to test its mobility and found that the muscle had not been cut. Still, his bag of tricks was running empty, and Buck¡¯s was seemingly endless. While he usually prided himself on his system knowledge, he didn¡¯t even know how Buck had done that thing with the air.


    Fucking Entertainers and their parlor tricks.


    They clashed swords again with a clang of steel on steel. On the follow-up, Buck threw out a fan of popping sparkles that confused the eyes with a murmured ¡°Glitter,¡± then went low and let Will¡¯s weapon pass over his head. He swept Will¡¯s legs out from under him, knocking him flat.


    Buck stood over him, taking his time with the finishing blow. Not ready to admit defeat, Will braced against the ground with his free hand and aimed another Dash, sending himself soaring high in the air past the Entertainer. He spun out of control thanks to his poor balance when casting the skill, and it was only by some miracle that he landed feet-first when he touched down on the other side of his enemy, knees nearly buckling with the impact. Being a cantrip, Dash did not cost him any AP, but all skills took a toll on the user¡¯s body. Eventually it added up, building fatigue. Will felt his vision doubling already, not sure if it was from exhaustion, skill overuse, or terror. Maybe a happy mix of all three.


    When he glanced back, expecting Buck to be coming for his neck, he instead found the man as unsteady on his legs as he was, a slightly glazed-over look in his eyes. He took a few tottering steps¡ªtrying to launch another assault¡ªthen fell to one knee, groaning, and his weapon rolled free of slackened fingers to clatter onto the stones.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Oh, thank god. It finally kicked in.


    ¡°What¡­?¡± Buck snarled. Confused, the mirth gone from his expression and replaced with a grim scowl. Slowly, he reached up and touched the only wound Will had scored on him, the small scratch on his cheek. He rubbed at the blood that came away between thumb and forefinger, chuckling to himself. ¡°Poison, huh? I should have seen that coming from someone with your reputation¡­¡±


    Will felt an enormous wash of relief, letting his heavy sword arm drop so the tip of his blade touched the ground. At Buck¡¯s accusing glare, he could only shrug apologetically.


    ¡°Fellas?¡± Buck called out, swaying on one knee as the poison strengthened its stranglehold on him. ¡°A little help would be nice.¡±


    But as he looked around him at the bloody piece of old Millstone, he found, as Will did, that none of Buck¡¯s men were left to answer him, the hillside covered in pincushioned bodies. The chimps were just finishing up, whacking dying men over the head with mallets, silencing pleading whimpers. Mongrel oversaw the effort, leaning fashionably against his unbloodied sword with his hip cocked. The Farmer had an incredible knack for getting out of work, and the killing kind was no different.


    Buck laughed tiredly, finally sagging sideways as the last strength fled his body. ¡°That¡¯s how it is, huh¡­? Never thought I¡¯d die¡­ in a shithole like this¡­¡±


    ¡°Maybe you shouldn¡¯t have talked so much shit, then,¡± Mongrel muttered, scraping with a fingernail at a piece of food caught between his teeth. ¡°But don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll put that bounty money to good use. Might even drink a round in your name, if the mood strikes.¡±


    Buck seemed to find that unreasonably funny, and the two of them laughed about it like old friends.


    Will, however, had other plans. With a swipe of his hand, he opened his Inventory, a circular black void about a foot across that floated beside him. He reached in and pulled out the small medicine bag that he always kept in there. When he went to kneel at Buck¡¯s side, the man frowned up at him, suspicious, but Will pushed his head back into the dirt, forcing him to lie down.


    ¡°Now, you¡¯ve got two options,¡± Will said. ¡°Either use your semblance and hope it¡¯s enough to kill both of us, or¡­¡± He unbuckled and unfolded the satchel on the ground beside the man, revealing a selection of vials, bottles, bandage rolls, and clay pots.


    ¡°Or?¡± Buck asked.


    ¡°Or, you let me administer the antidote. The poison in your veins is a highly potent version of curare. Unless I stop it, you will either die of asphyxiation or heart failure in a minute or two as your muscles become unable to contract.¡±


    ¡°Hold on, what?¡± Mongrel asked, suddenly standing stick-straight in outrage. ¡°You¡¯re not talking about letting him go, are you?¡±


    ¡°I told you I didn¡¯t want to kill him. He¡¯s one of Brimstone¡¯s only meaningful enemies at the moment, which means he might prove useful in the future.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡­ the bounty.¡± Mongrel looked absolutely appalled, as though Will had suggested traumatic self-castration as a fun and exciting new leisure activity.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need the money.¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself. Unlike the lord¡¯s perfect little killer, some of us are regular working stiffs without a mountain of cash to tuck ourselves into at night.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay you for your trouble.¡±


    Mongrel snorted. ¡°It¡¯s about the principle.¡± Number Three and Number Five, returning from their bloody business to stand beside their master, looked equally offended. It was downright eerie how well they synced up sometimes.


    ¡°I hate to break up your discussion,¡± Buck murmured, his lips gone bluish, ¡°but I¡¯m kind of¡­ dying¡­ down here. Any chance of that antidote?¡±


    Will nodded, ignoring Mongrel¡¯s further protests. He produced a small vial of clear liquid, unstoppered it with a flick of his thumb, and placed the top against Buck¡¯s lips, tilting his chin up to help the fluid go down as he began pouring.


    The Entertainer drank greedily. ¡°Thanks,¡± he sighed once it was empty, weakly smacking his lips. He tried to move his arms, and frowned when they flopped right back down at his sides again. ¡°You¡¯re sure this stuff works, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not an instant fix,¡± Will said, tucking the empty vial back in its place and replacing the satchel inside his Inventory. He stood up, growling at the fresh lines of pain marring his upper body. ¡°You¡¯ll be able to move normally again within half an hour. We¡¯ll be long gone by then.¡±


    Buck glanced around him. ¡°You killed all my friends, you know. Real grateful that you¡¯re sparing my life and all, but if you think it¡¯s all water under the bridge¡­¡±


    ¡°You started it. Besides, you killed one of ours, too. I reckon we¡¯re even.¡±


    Buck sighed, looking up at the darkening sky. ¡°Whatever. Let¡¯s do this again sometime. Your house, next time.¡±


    Will chuckled, standing up and dusting off his knees. ¡°Sure. If you¡¯ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a demon.¡±


    They left Buck amid the corpses and entered into the warmth of the longhouse, which consisted of a single large hall filled with old benches and tables, a few of the latter laden with food and supplies. A great fire crackled in a hearth at the far wall. Mongrel¡¯s insistent grumblings faded away once they saw the woman sprawled out before the fire on a pile of rugs, her back turned to them.


    She looked over her shoulder at their approach, and a mischievous smile played in dangerous eyes. She rolled over, lounging with the easy grace of a housecat. Will felt clumsy under her gaze; unwieldy, somehow.


    The woman¡ªhe could not help but think of her as one, even though he knew her true nature¡ªwas fully nude. She was slender and womanly, gray skin contrasting against black lips and black nipples. Startlingly yellow eyes blazed like the fire behind her, and long, dark hair fell in perfect ringlets about her, like it had been arranged just so. She was beautiful as a predator, beautiful in a way that made clear it should be appreciated only from afar if you wanted to keep all your limbs intact.


    ¡°I am Nyx,¡± the demon said in a husky half-sigh, head propped up in her hand. ¡°It seems you boys have been fighting over me. I do so enjoy when humans murder each other for my affection.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not here for your affection, sorry to say,¡± Will said, his throat suddenly dry. He scratched at his stitched-shut left eye, feeling the bumps of the heavy sutures keeping the lids together. ¡°I¡¯m here to make a bargain.¡±


    Nyx studied sharp black fingernails, almost talons, with great interest. ¡°Very well. If it intrigues, I¡¯ll consider it.¡±


    ¡°I want to bring someone here from Earth.¡±


    The demon looked up, a sweeping eyebrow cocked in surprise and amusement. ¡°From Earth? To the Frontier? You realize that people only end up here one way, yes?¡±


    ¡°By dying, I know. Even so.¡±


    ¡°Why would you want to bring someone here anyway? I hate to disparage my own home, but it¡¯s more or less the ass end of existence, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my business.¡±


    Nyx rolled her eyes. ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t tell me, then.¡± She thought about his request, taking her time; made not at all uncomfortable by her nudeness. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever heard rumors of someone making a deal like this, but I suppose it should be possible. The prospect is exciting, I¡¯ll grant you that.¡± Her yellow eyes swiveled up; fixing him, pinning him in place. A cat eyeing a particularly tasty-looking mouse. ¡°Of course, something like this is going to cost you. Not only do you have to get someone to fetch this poor victim you want ported over, you¡¯ll also need to bribe the Tower custodian to get them through processing.¡±


    Will nodded solemnly. ¡°I¡¯m willing to pay whatever it takes.¡±


    The demon regarded him for a long moment, letting one claw trail across her smooth hip. A disconcerting smile spread across her face, revealing wickedly sharp top and bottom canines. ¡°What is your name, dearest?¡±


    ¡°Will.¡±


    ¡°Very well, William. I¡¯ll take on your request. Just tell me one thing first.¡±


    Will shuffled uncomfortably. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Why all this fuss for one human? Who are they, that you would go to such lengths?¡±


    ¡°Someone very special,¡± Will said without hesitation, forcing himself to meet the demon¡¯s gaze without flinching. ¡°Someone this world could use right now.¡±


    The demon pursed her lips to hide a smirk, but did not do a very good job at it. ¡°I see. So it¡¯s a woman, then.¡±


    Will did not reply.


    Nyx sighed¡ªsomehow she did even that smugly. She stretched, slid gracefully to her feet, and padded barefoot off the furs onto the smooth stone floors, approaching the two men. ¡°Shall we start talking about your end in all this? What are you willing to trade for such a monumental service?¡±


    Will swallowed hard. I¡¯ve always hated haggling.

 Chapter 3 - Just Another Day on Boring Old Planet Earth

    Sam


    ¡°Paper or plastic, Mr. Fredrick?¡± Sam asked as she began to scan the assorted groceries.


    ¡°Paper, please,¡± said the town priest¡ªan older fellow with graying hair who still retained a solid build.


    Sam pulled out two paper bags and packed away the items. Mr. Fredrick went to pay, struggling with hands rendered shaky by age to get his card into the reader.


    ¡°Actually, you can just beep the card if you want¡ªit might be simpler that way. Yeah, just place it against the top there.¡± She motioned to the boxy machine, and Mr. Fredrick tapped his card against various parts of it, frowning, until the thing eventually let out a happy chirp. ¡°There you go!¡± Sam said with a broad smile. ¡°Convenient, huh?¡±


    Mr. Fredrick shook his head, but gave a rueful smile of his own. ¡°How¡¯s an old fellow like me meant to keep up with all this technology, huh?¡±


    ¡°Want me to help you get those to the car?¡± Sam asked as the old priest reached for his bags.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re too sweet, but I couldn¡¯t possibly¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all good! I¡¯m getting off my shift now, so I¡¯ll be heading out the door in a minute anyway. Really, it¡¯s no trouble.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it, hon, but I¡¯m not as weak as all that, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know that, sir. I¡¯ve seen your deadlifts. Pumping the lord¡¯s iron.¡±


    Mr. Fredrick chuckled, picking up his things. ¡°I think that counts as blasphemy, but I¡¯ll pretend I didn¡¯t hear it.¡± Heading for the door of the small, starkly lit bodega, he called over his shoulder: ¡°Be seeing you!¡±


    Sam waited a few minutes for her coworker to come in so she could hand off the counter, then went into the changing room to toss her name plate in a locker and slip on her running shoes. She headed for home at a brisk half-jog, meeting only a few runners and dog-walkers on the way. The town was sleepy even at its busiest, and it was getting dark, meaning most had already wrapped up their business for the day.


    Today was Friday, meaning she was due a visit to the cemetery on the way.


    But before she could make it there, she spotted something on the other side of the street. Mr. Fredrick stood there at the mouth of a side street nestled between two multi-story tenement buildings. He had let his grocery bags drop to the sidewalk, and he was speaking closely with a man Sam did not recognize.


    There wasn¡¯t anything overtly strange about it, but it just looked¡­ off. Sam checked her left and right, then swiveled to cut across the road at a quick trot, weaving between cars parked on either side to approach the two men.


    ¡°Everything all right, Mr. Fredrick?¡± Sam asked as she reached them, keeping her tone light. ¡°Is this a friend of yours?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re friends, aren¡¯t we, Mr. Fredrick?¡± the man said, something mocking in his tone. He had an arm slung over Mr. Fredrick¡¯s shoulders, glancing between Sam and the priest.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mr. Fredrick said, sounding tired.


    The man nodded. ¡°There you have it. Now, we¡¯re just catching up, so if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­?¡±


    Sam put her hands on her hips. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°The fuck?¡± The man let his head fall back and groaned dramatically, staring up at an overcast sky. ¡°Why¡¯ve you got to make this so hard? Run along already. You don¡¯t wanna get involved in this, I promise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already involved.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡± The man took a step back from Mr. Fredrick, revealing the knife he had been holding to the priest¡¯s ribs. He waved the flashy bit of metal in Sam¡¯s direction. ¡°In that case, you can both empty your pockets. And unlike grandpa here, I won¡¯t believe you don¡¯t have a smartphone, so don¡¯t even try that.¡±


    ¡°Do as he says, girl,¡± Mr. Fredrick muttered, eyeing a milk carton that lay overturned on the pavement. ¡°He¡¯s got a knife. This isn¡¯t a game.¡±


    The man pointed the weapon lazily at Mr. Fredrick without looking his way. ¡°See? Listen to your elders. A little generosity goes a long way toward minimizing the number of holes I put in you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving you a thing. But if you walk away now, I¡¯ll let you.¡± Sam took a step toward him, and he backed away warily, keeping the knife between them. ¡°Were you seriously planning to rob a sixty-year-old priest? C¡¯mon, man. Have a little self-respect.¡±


    The mugger scowled at Mr. Fredrick, looking him up and down. ¡°He¡¯s sixty?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look a day over fifty, does he? He looks after himself pretty well. We go to the same gym, you know.¡± Sam kept advancing, and the mugger kept backing away until he hit the wall with a flinch. ¡°So, what¡¯ll it be?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Fuck¡ª¡±


    Sam suckerpunched him in the mouth before he finished whatever he was going to say, snapping his head back against the wooden facade. She could tell by his tone that that wouldn¡¯t have gone anywhere. While he was still reeling in shock, she grasped his wrist and upper arm and twisted until she had his face pressed against the building, the knife coming free of his stick-straight fingers. She kicked the weapon over to Mr. Fredrick, who picked it up and blinked at the thing, dumbstruck.


    She kept the mugger like that while Mr. Fredrick used his old flip phone to call the police. It took the man a minute to realize he was actually a fair bit stronger than Sam, and he eventually managed to wriggle free and scamper off down the street. Whatever. It was a small town¡ªsomeone would catch up to him soon enough, and Mr. Fredrick had given a good description since he¡¯d been staring at the guy while giving it to the operator.


    ¡°That was reckless,¡± Mr. Fredrick said with an admonishing shake of his head when she wandered over. ¡°But¡­ thank you. Thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°Eh, it¡¯s no trouble.¡±


    ¡°You always say that.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s never any trouble.¡±


    Mr. Fredrick folded the mugger¡¯s knife into his back pocket in case the police needed it later, then bent down to pick up his bags. Sam got there first, snatching them away. ¡°I¡¯ll have to insist on carrying these for you now. You¡¯ve been through a traumatic event, you know.¡±


    Mr. Fredrick muttered what sounded an awful lot like a curse under his breath¡ªscandalous; what would Jesus think?¡ªand said: ¡°What about you, then?¡±


    ¡°You kidding? Getting to punch some weirdo was the highlight of my day.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t lying. The adrenaline rushing through her veins was making her feel all hot and giddy. It had been risky, of course. There had been a moment when she stepped into the mugger¡¯s range where he might easily have cut her open like a Christmas ham, if he had been a little bit more on the ball. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her jaw.


    ¡°You¡¯re a pretty strange girl, you know that?¡± the priest said as he fell in step beside her, turning their steps toward Mr. Fredrick¡¯s home.


    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡±


    ¡°In a good way, I think. Mostly.¡±


    Sam flashed him a grin. ¡°Thanks! I think so too.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you insist on lugging this stuff all the way to my door, then I have to insist that you stay for dinner. The missus will be happy for the company.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d never turn down a free meal. Food is my religion. No offense. I''m sure your fella is nice too.¡±


    An hour later, Sam found herself sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Fredrick in their cozy little kitchen, scarfing down a big plate of spaghetti bolognese. She was almost always hungry.


    The priest¡¯s stocky, white-haired wife hardly touched her own food, staring at the spaghetti vanishing into Sam''s mouth like she was watching a magic trick. ¡°Will that be enough protein for you, dear?¡± she asked uncertainly after some time. ¡°I know you sporty types need a lot of that.¡±


    Sam mopped up pasta sauce off her plate with a heel of bread, stuffed it in her mouth, and covered her lower face with a hand while she chewed forcibly, jaws working. After swallowing, she said: ¡°This is perfect, Mrs. Fredrick, thank you. Protein is good, but you need a lot of carbs to keep your energy up, too.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. Let me know if there¡¯s anything else I can get you.¡±


    ¡°I mean...¡±


    Sam was properly full after two servings, patting her belly contentedly. Mrs. Fredrick insisted on cleaning the cut one of the mugger¡¯s teeth had left on Sam¡¯s knuckle, and after that they sat around the table chatting for a while.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re just rumors,¡± Mrs. Fredrick said after some time, ¡°but I feel that I have to ask you about some¡­ worrying things I¡¯ve been hearing.¡±


    ¡°Shoot,¡± Sam said with a nod.


    ¡°Margaret,¡± Mr. Fredrick said warningly, but the woman shot him a withering glare in return, then went on acting as though he had never spoken.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that you take part in these¡­ street fights, or whatever they call them. That you fight people for money. But that¡¯s not true, right?¡±


    Sam smiled. ¡°Oh, sure it is! Yeah, I have a match every other month or so. You can come watch if you want.¡±


    The old couple shared a concerned look between them. Mrs. Fredrick appeared to weigh her words before speaking, placing an aged hand on Sam¡¯s. ¡°Dear, I know money can be hard to come by, but you really shouldn¡¯t let unscrupulous people take advantage of you like that. I¡¯m sure Tom could get you a few shifts at the cemetery if you''d like. Couldn¡¯t you, dear?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Mr. Fredrick said, nodding gravely. ¡°It¡¯s not glamorous work, and the pay is what it is, but between that and your other job, I¡¯m sure you wouldn¡¯t need to turn to¡­ other places anymore.¡±


    Sam knew it was probably rude, but she couldn¡¯t help but grin at these poor people¡¯s concern. It was very cute. ¡°I don¡¯t do it for the money,¡± she said. ¡°Hell, they barely pay me anyway, since I always lose.¡±


    Mr. Fredrick blinked. ¡°Then, why¡­?¡±


    Sam¡¯s smile slipped a hair. She wished she had a satisfying answer to that herself. Finally, she said: ¡°I like the challenge. Besides, I think it¡¯s fun.¡±


    They let the topic drop. She could tell they thought she was insane. Maybe she was.


    When Mrs. Fredrick bustled off to clean the table and soak the dishes, the priest leaned close and said: ¡°Maggie doesn¡¯t like what you do.¡± He glanced up at his wife, making sure she was out of earshot, then back at Sam. ¡°I reckon I don¡¯t, either. But between you and me, I¡¯ll say a prayer that you¡¯ll win the next one.¡± He winked.


    Sam grinned. ¡°Thanks!¡±


    I¡¯m going to need it.


    By the time she took leave of the Fredricks, it was properly dark outside, but she stopped by the cemetery anyway. She went to her mother¡¯s grave first, speaking a few well-worn words. Then she went and sat cross-legged in the grass in front of Will¡¯s, turning on a little electric lantern she had left there ages ago. She also took out an old packet of cigarettes and a plastic lighter that she had stashed inside the lantern¡¯s glass paneling. Extracting one cigarette, she lit it and left it smoldering on the gravestone.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Sam said; legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. ¡°Sorry for being late. Stuff happened. I¡¯m here now, though. I don¡¯t know if you remember me telling you last week, but I have a fight in a couple days. Wish me luck, okay? Eleventh time¡¯s going to be the ticket, I think.¡±


    The mossy stone offered no reply. A small cylinder of ash dropped off the cigarette and dissolved as it was carried away on the breeze.


    Sam sighed into the silence. She wasn¡¯t sure how the absence of something could feel heavy, but it did. It weighed her down like a bag of bricks. ¡°I miss you,¡± she said, forcing a smile. ¡°A whole lot. Even though you could be such a little shit sometimes.¡± Then, after a while, she added: ¡°Oh! I saved someone from getting mugged today. Kind of made me feel like a hero for a minute. So that was pretty cool.¡±


    The gravestone remained unimpressed.


    Sam sat there at the grave until the cigarette burned down to the filter and fizzled out. Then she sat there a while longer.


    For some reason, she got this strange feeling of being watched, the hairs on her arms prickling. She dismissed it almost immediately. Just dreaming up ghosts in the night, probably. Only, she¡¯d never been afraid of the dark. Weird.

 Chapter 4 - Eleventh Time’s the Charm (For Sure This Time)

    Sam


    The old junkyard bustled with activity, people shoving for space around piles of assorted trash and finding seats on top of rusted cars. The horizon was broken up by a skyline of precarious junk towers and broken-down equipment and an old yellow crane looming above it all, cable arm swinging in the wind. There was a buzz of conversation, and sometimes money changed hands. A speaker system blared tacky music.


    Sam was about done stretching inside the improvised fighting ring. It was closed off by wooden poles hammered into the ground with mismatched ropes suspended from them, making about a twelve-by-twelve foot square. The packed earth underfoot was covered by a sheet of blue tarp with a liberal amount of holes and tears for some careless fighter to snag a foot on.


    Sam¡¯s opponent, a fellow named Luke, stood opposite her, checking the bandage wrapping on his fists. He was taller than average, and looked like he had good reach with those arms.


    That means I have to close the distance fast, get him on the ground. I don¡¯t have a chance in a stand-up fight.


    Sam gave her legs one last stretch and began bouncing on bare feet, trying her best to stay loose despite the nerves that were creeping in, threatened to freeze her solid. She popped her mouthguard in as the owner of the junkyard¡ªwho served as the announcer for these gatherings¡ªducked under the ropes and swaggered about the ring, delivering his usual drivel. Sam blocked out his existence, focused only on her opponent. The vaguely apologetic look in his eyes that seemed ¡®sorry that I have to do this to you¡¯ really pissed her off. She recognized it from most of the other guys she¡¯d fought.


    Of course, she couldn¡¯t blame them especially. She was a woman going up against a man¡ªthey knew they were going to go through her like a rock through wet tissue paper.


    She knew that, too. As did the spectators. Half of them were jeering all sorts of things, or laughing coarsely with their buddies.


    But this time would be different. It had to be. She¡¯d been training hard for it, after all. She''d learned from her mistakes, honed her technique. She was twice the fighter she had been just a year or two ago.


    That would be enough, wouldn''t it?


    Sam realized the fight had already started when the spectators¡¯ wild noise got louder and the junkyard owner scrambled out of the ring, snapping her out of her thoughts. Luke hesitated, looking at the retreating back of the man in charge as though he was still not quite sure about this whole thing.


    If he had any qualms about fighting a girl, Sam was about to disabuse him of that notion. She darted forward, closing the distance between them in a second flat, feet sliding on rough tarp with a grating squeak as she shot low, arms outstretched.


    Luke blinked, finally fixing his attention on her, but he moved too late to avoid the grapple. She got one of his legs, hooked the other with a foot, and tipped him over onto his back, spidering on top. He shot an arm out to tear her off, and she immediately focused all her attention on the exposed limb, wrapping himself around it and forcing him flat as she caught him in an armbar. Hands on his wrist and legs pinning his torso, she forced him wide, hyperextending his shoulder joint.


    Luke struggled, off-balance, grunting. Locked down and without proper leverage to work with, the difference in their reach and strength didn¡¯t mean as much.


    But god, was he strong. She struggled to hold the submission, but he caught a handful of her clothing and hauled himself around to slip his head clear, then his torso. When she tried to readjust her legs to get his head in a lock, he caught her with a fist in her gut, driving the air clean out of her.


    Luke slid free, climbing to his knees to stand back up. Refusing to let up, Sam kept after him and attacked his back this time. She wrapped her legs around his torso and wormed a hand in under his chin, tipping him back for a rear naked choke.


    He struggled to break it; growling, thrashing, arms flailing wildly. Sam squeezed harder, harder, until her muscles screamed.


    Just go to sleep, she thought, scarcely able to hear her own thoughts over the crescendoing roar of the crowd. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep.


    She felt his resistance beginning to weaken, his body losing its strength as blood supply to the brain was cut. Sam gritted her teeth, straining to keep her choke tight, not wanting to let up even for a second.


    The moment she thought she had him, he came alive again with a surge of power¡ªsomehow rising up even with her clinging to his back¡ªand slammed them both back onto the tarp. His entire weight bearing down on her, Sam¡¯s grip slackened as she let out a breathless gasp, her ribcage becoming a web of shooting pain.


    Luke rolled around so they were facing each other, his face red and sweaty, eyes bloodshot. He dug his knees into her sides, pinning her beneath him, and she barely got her guard up in time before he began raining down fists and elbows.


    Before long, it was all Sam could do to keep her arms up.


    ¡°Give up,¡± she heard him shout over the din.


    She did not give up.


    She got a clean hit to his ribs at one point, but it was like he didn¡¯t even feel it. The match was already over once he got the mount on her, but she held out another minute or two before a stray hit caught her in the head.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    She woke up flat on her back, staring up at the junkyard owner¡¯s unshaven face and smelling the alcohol on his breath, missing any memory of the last thirty seconds. Needless to say, she had not stolen a surprise victory in that time.


    The junkyard owner gave her a pull from an electrolyte drink, and offered a consolatory clap on the shoulder when she was able to stagger to her feet.


    Sam felt like one big bruise. She blew bloody snot to clear her stuffy sinuses, felt like her eyeballs would pop right out in the process with the pressure swelling behind them. Her arms were mostly numb from the elbows down, and her step was unsteady as a drunkard''s.


    Luke soon came over, holding her up when she nearly fell flat into a pile of awfully sharp-looking¡ªand probably tetanus-loaded¡ªmetal refuse. ¡°Good fight,¡± he said, his voice sounding muffled and distorted like he was speaking underwater.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sam grunted, not really in the best shape to be making conversation, physically or otherwise.


    ¡°You almost had me there a few times.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe.¡±


    Luke guided her over to an old spongy car seat and pushed her down into it, ignoring her weak protests that she could stand perfectly fine. He sat on the ground next to her, and they watched the spectators gather around again as the junkyard owner began hyping up the next fight on the docket.


    ¡°You know they do fights with women too, right?¡± Luke said after a while.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d probably do really well there.¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°I bet if you ask Toby about it, he¡¯ll set something up for you.¡±


    ¡°I bet he would.¡±


    Luke glanced at her side-long, leaned back and propped up on his hands, shoulders raised. ¡°But you¡¯re not going to do that, are you?¡±


    Despite the fact that it lit her face up with pain, Sam managed a bloody smile. ¡°Nope.¡±


    Luke laughed. ¡°Stubborn little bastard, aren¡¯t you? I can respect that. You¡¯ve got guts, that¡¯s for sure.¡±


    Sam didn¡¯t have a compliment to pay him in return, so she remained silent, watching people mill about. Truthfully, she hated him. Or maybe she just hated losing. It being the eleventh time in a row did not lessen the sting of it at all. If anything, she felt the full weight of the previous ten come down on her at once.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Luke said after a while, clearing his throat. ¡°Think you need to get checked out down at the clinic? I don¡¯t mind coming with you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Sam grunted, feeling at a tender welt on her jaw, grimacing at the pain. ¡°I reckon they¡¯re sick of me over there by now.¡±


    ¡°Then, how about a pick-me-up burger? My treat.¡±


    Sam forced a tired smile, sparing the man a brief look. ¡°As a date?¡±


    Luke shrugged. ¡°Call it whatever you like.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, sighing. ¡°I¡¯ve already got a boyfriend.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t true, of course. In fact, Sam wasn¡¯t sure she¡¯d ever had a boyfriend. Strangely, though, the well-worn lie had never felt like one, even when the man it brought to mind was five years in the dirt. Even though there hadn¡¯t been anything more than friendship between them before he died. At least, not on his end.


    Luke accepted the rejection gracefully, which she appreciated, and he helped her up again so she could begin hobbling home.


    * * *


    Getting to the apartment, Sam peeled out of her clothes as she shuffled toward the bathroom, letting each article lie where it fell. She dug her loser¡¯s winnings out of a pocket¡ªa sticky-red wad of crushed bills she didn¡¯t remember picking up¡ªand threw it in the general direction of the cash bowl on her kitchen counter, not bothering to check if she hit her target or not.


    She took a hot shower, curled up on the floor for most of it, then gingerly toweled herself off to avoid upsetting her injuries. She ended up getting blood on it anyway¡ªluckily she was using her old rag towel, the one that had definitely not been gray when she bought it.


    After that she spent fifteen minutes cleaning cuts and gluing shut the ones that looked like they might open up again. Slipping into some loose clothing that wouldn¡¯t rub on her abused skin, she went into the kitchen and chugged milk out of the carton and ate plain bread slices out of the bag.


    She lasted all of thirty minutes in front of the TV before the oppressive weight of her thoughts became too much to bear, and she headed to the gym to blow off some steam. Strangely enough, despite her punch-drunk daze, she got that same feeling of being watched again. Was the woman on that bench looking at Sam over her newspaper? No, surely not.


    Sam lost herself in the weights, lapsing into a trance where the pain in her muscles helped deaden her mind, and the simple, repetitive motions lulled her into blissful non-cognition.


    Sam came crashing back to reality when she found herself throwing up in one of the gym bathrooms after what she gathered was a pretty brutal workout, though she recalled very little of it. Her nose had sprung a leak, blood mixing freely with the yellowish bile and wet bread chunks in the toilet bowl, and the pounding in her right eye suggested that she had burst a vessel or something. Her already calloused hands were rubbed raw, and at this point she was hard-pressed to think of a body part that didn¡¯t hurt.


    I guess I should remember to take it a bit easier next time, huh?


    Sam told herself to cheer up. There was no use dwelling on her loss now. All she could do was rest so she could start training for fight number twelve.


    Yeah, just gotta keep trying. All this work will pay off eventually.


    Pay off¡­ with what? Why am I even doing this?


    At one point, she¡¯d been fighting for herself, to meet Dad¡¯s expectations. Then she¡¯d fought for Will, to keep people from messing with him. But why was she still doing it? Why was she still clinging to it? Why did she keep taking fights she could never win?


    Sam could still not come up with a good answer. She was slowly coming to realize that there was no answer.


    She curled up in bed as soon as she got home despite the fact that it was only mid-afternoon, not bothering to take off her clothes. Before long, the cuts on her cheeks were stinging with salty tears.


    Why did you have to go away, Will?


    You always knew what way to go. What am I supposed to do without you?


    That, at least, she knew the answer to. The only thing she knew how to do. Fight and train. Train and fight. Mechanically. Purposelessly. Until she went to pieces.

 Chapter 5 - Real and Legitimate Employment Opportunity

    Sam


    She was interrupted in her breakfast by a knock on the door. Since she had zero interest in speaking with a salesman or, worse yet, her landlord, Sam simply ignored it and kept on eating. She took another bite of her turkey sandwich and slurped down a few spoonfuls of cereal.


    But the knocking didn¡¯t stop.


    Sam kept ignoring it, and whoever was on the other side accepted the challenge, giving another series of sharp taps every few seconds that became increasingly urgent until the person was pounding on the poor thing.


    Sam gritted her teeth and pretended not to hear it, turned up the TV extra loud in an attempt to drown out the noise. At this point, not answering the door was a matter of personal pride.


    When the knocking finally stopped after two or three minutes following loud complaints from the neighbors living on the other side of the hall¡ªthank god for Gus the alcoholic¡ªSam wiggled deeper into her couch with a smug little grin. She''d won.


    Then the first note was slid under the door.


    Grinding her teeth, Sam leapt up and stormed over there. ¡®OPEN THE DOOR¡¯, the paper read in a shaky, awkward hand, as though penned by a child.


    By the third note, Sam finally broke and ripped the door open. ¡°What?¡± she half-shouted, properly fuming now.


    A woman was standing at the other end of the hall, already writing on another piece of paper pressed against the wall. She let it drop, forgotten, along with her pen as she turned to face Sam with an unpleasant smile. ¡°Ah,¡± she said in a sultry, saccharine voice that reminded Sam of a sleazy pornstar. ¡°Samantha Darling, I take it?¡±


    Sam gave the woman a quick up-and-down look. She was strangely pale, with an almost gray complexion that really didn¡¯t look healthy, although she had to admit that the woman was somehow quite beautiful despite that. And¡­ what was she wearing? The woman had on a garish red blazer with huge puffy shoulders that looked straight out of the 80s, a plaid skirt, along with a pair of thick spectacles that might have looked appropriate on a 70-year-old accountant.


    ¡°Uh¡­?¡± was all Sam could work out, not quite remembering what she had been asked.


    ¡°My name is Nyx,¡± the woman said, and offered out her hand. Her left hand, Sam noted numbly as she shook it. ¡°Might I come inside for a moment, Miss Darling?¡±


    Nyx? What kind of name is that?


    ¡°Sam is fine. I think I¡¯m good, though. Thanks anyway.¡±


    The woman did not move an inch, staring straight at Sam like she was trying to bore holes through her skull. ¡°I am hoping to perform an interview about a possible employment opportunity. It will only take a minute. Might I come inside?¡± She spoke with an odd, lilting accent that Sam could not place.


    Sam frowned, blocking the door like a soldier committed to her last stand, determined to hold the enemy back at any cost. ¡°What kind of employer conducts home interviews? And what job is this about, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just your average gumshoe,¡± Nyx said. She pushed up her spectacles with a dramatic flourish where she stuck out her chest and sent her shiny black hair whirling all at once, like something out of a kitschy shampoo commercial. ¡°My employer has tasked me with conducting background checks and preliminary interviews of select candidates for a special position.¡±


    Gumshoe? Like a private investigator? Who calls it that anymore?


    ¡°Wait, have you been following me?¡± Sam said to the walking fashion disaster as soon as the idea appeared in her mind. Now that she thought about it, with the woman standing right in front of her as reference, she had definitely seen her before. On the bench reading a paper, in the crowd during the fight, maybe even at the bodega once. Had that been her she had sensed back at the graveyard, too?


    ¡°Collecting first-hand field data,¡± Nyx corrected.


    Sam rolled her eyes. ¡°Call it whatever you want¡ªthat doesn¡¯t make it any less weird.¡±


    ¡°Might I come inside?¡± the woman repeated, more insistent this time. ¡°I will not take up too much of your time.¡±


    Was she wearing colored contacts? When her eyes hit the light just so, they almost looked¡­ yellow. That couldn¡¯t be natural, could it?


    ¡°Are you going to keep bothering me if I don¡¯t do this interview thing?¡±


    Nyx¡¯s silent smirk was answer enough.


    Sam backed away from the door with a sigh. ¡°Whatever. You can do your thing while I eat. Just make it quick. Whatever you¡¯re trying to sell me on, I¡¯m really not interested.¡±


    Nyx took a sharp, triumphant intake of breath through her nostrils as she crossed the threshold into the apartment.


    What is it they say about inviting vampires into your house again? Sam thought as she plopped back down on the couch, wincing at a dozen fresh hurts along with the bitter shame they reminded her of. She chuckled to herself. Wouldn¡¯t it be funny if she actually was a vampire?


    ¡°Uh, help yourself to some coffee if you want, I guess,¡± Sam said, waving her sandwich in the general direction of the kitchen before taking a bite. She turned off the TV, figuring this whole thing would be over faster if she pretended to pay attention. ¡°Now, what''s this about exactly?¡±


    Nyx nodded her thanks and wandered into the kitchen, beginning to make herself a cup. ¡°Well, like I said, you are being considered for a very special position.¡±


    ¡°Oookay. And what does ¡®special position¡¯ mean?¡± Having finished off all the cereal flakes, she lifted the bowl to her mouth and gulped down the rest of the sugary sweet milk dregs, letting out a sigh of contentment as she set it back down on the coffee table.


    ¡°Special as in ¡®extraordinary¡¯, ¡®exciting¡¯, ¡®awe-inspiring¡¯.¡±


    ¡°I get that part. I would like a bit more detail than that, if possible.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°It is not.¡±


    Sam blinked, staring flatly ahead at her own reflection on the dead TV screen. Man, she looked like shit. ¡°You¡­ can¡¯t tell me any details about the job you¡¯re interviewing me for?¡±


    Nyx nodded, still banging about in the kitchen. ¡°Correct. I can¡¯t tell you any specifics unless you pass the pre-screening and agree to begin the onboarding process.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t some kind of really elaborate prank, is it?¡±


    ¡°I assure you, Miss Darling, it is not.¡± The clattering of kitchen supplies was becoming more urgent, and Nyx kept throwing strangely concerned glances toward Sam.


    ¡°I told you to call me Sam. It¡¯s¡­¡± Pausing, Sam stood, peering more closely at what the ¡®gumshoe¡¯ was doing, exactly. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn¡¯t coffee, considering that she was holding a glass of regular tap water in one hand and a tub of cocoa powder in the other. ¡°Do you even know how to make instant coffee?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Nyx glared at the mismatched items in her hands, as though her failure was somehow their fault. ¡°No,¡± she finally admitted.


    Sam relegated Nyx to the kitchen table while she cleaned up the mess the madwoman had somehow managed to make, turning on the electric kettle and pouring instant coffee powder into two cups. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to be rude,¡± she said over her shoulder while waiting for the water to boil, ¡°but are you, like, all right? Do you have some kind of problem with your brain?¡±


    ¡°I assure you, Miss...¡± Nyx cleared her throat, fussing with the oversized lapels of her blazer. ¡°Sam. I assure you that my mental faculties are quite acute.¡±


    ¡°Are you sick, then? Again, no offense, but you don¡¯t look so good. Maybe you should get checked out by a doctor or something.¡± Sam was becoming increasingly confident that this woman had broken out of a mental ward and somehow stumbled through a thrift store for the criminally unfashionable.


    ¡°Nothing like that. I am¡­ not from around here.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Deciding that questioning things was not going to get her anywhere, she resolved to hurry this woman through whatever ¡®interview¡¯ she had planned as quickly as possible so she could boot her out the door. When the kettle chirped, she put the two cups down on the table and filled them up. She did not ask if Nyx wanted milk or sugar, and seated herself in the chair opposite the strange, deathly pale woman. ¡°Okay. Since this is an interview, I¡¯m guessing you have questions? Go ahead, then.¡±


    Nyx took a gulp of her coffee, seemingly not bothered by the fact that it was still scalding hot. ¡°Yes. Please answer the following questions truthfully. Feel free to elaborate if you like.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Question one,¡± Nyx said, reciting from memory. ¡°Would you be interested in working abroad?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ I guess? Maybe? I¡¯m not opposed to it, at least.¡±


    Nyx nodded. ¡°Question two. Would you be open to working around people who might be considered ¡®a danger to society¡¯?¡± she asked, doing air quotes.


    Sam frowned, rubbing at her forehead. ¡°What are we talking about? Like, convicts and stuff?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ I guess it wouldn¡¯t bother me, no.¡± Sam¡¯s gaze followed Nyx¡¯s hands as she raised her cup and took another big swallow. ¡°Do you need to write these answers down or anything?¡± She¡¯d already decided not to question anything, but she just couldn¡¯t help it.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s all right,¡± Nyx replied airily. ¡°Would you be open to working with improving conditions in a third-world country or a near analogue?¡±


    ¡®Near analogue¡¯? What is this crazy bitch going on about? ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± she replied with a shrug. ¡°Why not.¡±


    Nyx nodded, pleased. ¡°Question four. Would you be open to working long-term in a place where you might not be able to contact friends or family?¡±


    ¡°I mean, the only family I have is my dad, and I haven¡¯t seen him in almost a decade, so¡­ Sure?¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Question five. Would you be open to working in hazardous and potentially dangerous environments?¡±


    Sam sighed. Her patience had been trampled to death a long time ago, and her sense of propriety was quickly going with it. ¡°Look, lady. I¡¯m not interested in whatever organ harvesting ring you¡¯re running, so can we skip to the part where you wrap this up and I say ¡®thanks, but no thanks¡¯ so we can both go on with our day?¡±


    Nyx pursed her lips, taking a last thoughtful sip of her coffee and setting down the cup with a final-sounding thunk. ¡°All right, Sam. If that¡¯s how you feel, there is nothing I can do to stop you. Can I just ask you one more question?¡±


    ¡°Will it get you out of my face?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Are you happy with your life?¡±


    Sam flinched, feeling like she¡¯d been punched in the face. No, she¡¯d had punches in the face softer than that. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Are. You. Happy. With. Your. Life?¡±


    Sam was not sure what to say. She began to stammer out something about this woman minding her own business, but trailed off, and eventually fell silent. She stared into the shiny black surface of her untouched coffee, feeling hot steam waft into her face. ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± Nyx said. ¡°You can tell me the truth.¡±


    ¡°Why should I tell you anything?¡±


    Nyx shrugged, bringing her padded shoulders up comically high about her ears. ¡°I suppose if you really are happy, then there¡¯s not much reason for you to confide in a complete stranger. But if you feel that something is missing? If you are looking for a chance to reinvent yourself?¡± Another shrug. ¡°Maybe taking a chance is not such a bad thing, if you don¡¯t have anything left to lose to begin with.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    Nyx stood, straightening a blazer that did not need straightening. ¡°Very well. I can see that you¡¯re not interested, so I will be taking my leave now. My employer will be very disappointed.¡± She gave a theatrical sigh. ¡°But such is life, I suppose.¡±


    Sam let the woman get halfway to the door. Then, sighing, she called out: ¡°Wait.¡±


    Nyx spun on a stiletto heel that looked more murder weapon than footwear, a fox-like grin on her face. ¡°Could that be curiosity I detect in your voice?¡±


    ¡°I just have one question about this¡­ special opportunity, whatever it is. Maybe two.¡±


    ¡°Please, ask away.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the pay like?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I am certain you will find the compensation more than adequate, both financially and spiritually.¡±


    I guess I should¡¯ve known not to expect an actual answer.


    ¡°Let¡¯s say I agree to start this onboarding process thing. When would I start?¡±


    ¡°Today. Immediately.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty fast.¡±


    ¡°My employer does not believe in wasting time.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you might be able to tell me who this mysterious employer is, exactly?¡±


    ¡°He has specifically requested to remain anonymous. Don¡¯t worry¡ªyou will meet him in person soon enough.¡±


    Sam blew out her cheeks. She gave her bare apartment a look, thinking about what she would be giving up. Nothing came to mind. ¡°Fuck it, why not?¡± she said at last, half as a joke. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. Go ahead and ship me off to whatever back-alley clinic you¡¯re going to carve me up at.¡±


    At the very least, she figured, it probably wouldn¡¯t be boring.


    Nyx buzzed with excitement. ¡°Fuck it indeed! A woman after my own heart, I see.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Sam watched the woman edge closer to the table, fumbling with something in her jacket pocket. ¡°So, what happens now? Do you have a car outside or whatever?¡±


    ¡°I will be taking you somewhere,¡± Nyx said, speaking slowly and deliberately, like the tone one might use to soothe a skittish animal. ¡°Just relax and let me take care of everything. This will not hurt very much at all.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but¡­ What?¡±


    There was a flash of steel as Nyx stepped up beside her. Staring at the bloody knife in the woman¡¯s hand, it took Sam several moments before she even began fumbling at the line of pain she felt across her throat, fresher than all of yesterday¡¯s wounds.


    Her hands came away wet. Looking down, she found them smeared red. More tumbled down the front of her, the entire front of her shirt quickly becoming saturated with blood.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Sam said. At least, that was what she tried to say, except only a wet gurgle came out.


    She began trying to suppress the fountain of blood gushing out of her, but it squirted between her fingers, and she suddenly found herself all thumbs, unable to make herself move the way she wanted to.


    She couldn¡¯t breathe.


    Nyx firmly guided Sam¡¯s hands back down at her sides, one at a time, while whispering in her ear and stroking her hair. ¡°Shush now, Samantha. It¡¯s all right. Don¡¯t worry. Everything will be over soon.¡± Suddenly, there was an envelope in front of her face, held carefully clear of the weakening spurts of blood. ¡°This letter is written by my employer,¡± Nyx explained. ¡°It will tell you everything you need to know.¡± She stuffed it into Sam¡¯s right pants pocket and gave it a satisfied pat. ¡°Please read it as soon as you get the chance.¡±


    Sam wanted to laugh, but found that she could not. She was drowning. Fading. Everything was going all funny and blurry. As her head tipped down onto the tabletop, she could only produce a single coherent thought.


    The woman had told the truth.


    It really did not hurt very much at all.

 Chapter 6 - Absolutely, Verifiably, Most Definitely Not in Kansas Anymore

    Sam


    Sam found herself standing at a crossroads. It was surrounded on all sides by impenetrable pine forest. A bruising purple twilight reigned overhead; moonless and starless. Feeling at her neck, she found no gaping wound there, and there was not a speck of blood on her clothing. In fact, even her wounds from the fight with Luke were nowhere in evidence, her skin unblemished and pain-free.


    The air was neither warm nor cold, completely still and windless as though the place were holding its breath. An oppressive silence hung thick over everything, with not so much as the creak of a tree settling to break it. Aside from herself and the uniform conifers standing in perfect, wall-like formation, there were no signs of life.


    Sam felt that she should be scared, or worried, or angry, or something. But the level of absurdity had risen to such a degree that her brain had abandoned any effort to keep up, leaving her completely numb except for, of all things, a vague feeling of amusement.


    This was just a really weird fever dream, after all. That was all it was. Luke must have hit her harder than she thought. Maybe she ought to take that trip to the clinic after all, once she woke up.


    Remembering the letter she had been given, Sam searched her pockets and produced the slightly crushed envelope. There was no writing on the front, so she simply tore it open and extracted its contents, which turned out to be two small pieces of paper covered in neat writing.


    The first one read:


    Sam,


    If you¡¯re reading this, that means you¡¯re dead. Sorry, I had to say it. I bet you¡¯re feeling pretty confused right now, but don¡¯t worry, everything will be explained soon enough. Right now, whatever happens, just go along with it.


    If you can, try to find Nyx. She¡¯ll take you where you need to go.


    When you get to the Tower (you¡¯ll know it when you see it), sign the contract you¡¯re given, then read the second note. After you¡¯ve read the second note, eat it.


    When prompted, choose Laborer. Allocate your abilities and attributes however you want (hopefully you don¡¯t pick anything too stupid), except you must only pick passive abilities when given the option. I repeat, ONLY pick PASSIVE abilities.


    Whatever the Tower custodian tells you, don¡¯t listen. He¡¯s full of shit.


    That¡¯s it. See you soon.


    -A Friend.


    PS: You will need to take a leap of faith. Enjoy the way down.


    Sam read the note once, then more carefully a second time, still not quite able to absorb all the strange instructions detailed there. Looking at the second note only added to her confusion, as all the text was written in some strange language she neither understood nor recognized.


    Wait, she thought, returning to the first note with a deepening frown. It wants me to eat the second note when I¡¯m done with it? How the fuck would that ever make sense? And how am I supposed to read it in the first place when I don¡¯t know the language it¡¯s written in?


    Trying to parse everything was making her head hurt. But the letter had told her to go with the flow, and with nothing else to guide her, she figured it was best to do what it said¡ªat least what small part of it she could make sense of.


    Sam tucked the letters back in the envelope. She looked around, saw nothing except trees and dirt paths, three of them branching off from the spot where she stood. Picking one at random, she began to walk.


    From what the letter said, it sounds like I¡¯ll get somewhere sooner or later. I guess I¡¯m looking for a tower?


    Dreams usually did not involve this much legwork.


    After a few minutes of walking, she hit another crossroads much like the first, except this one had four branches, including the one she came from. There were several wooden road signs scattered about, but one of them pointed straight up into the air, a second into the woods, and a third had only gibberish on it like what she had seen in the second letter.


    Sighing, Sam picked the middle path and kept going.


    One crossroads was replaced by another, and another, and another. The sky retained that exact shade of unattractive purple-brown, giving her nothing to track the passing of time with. It had to be hours since she started out.


    The only sign that she was making any progress at all was the pines gradually being replaced by oak trees, and the path widening, becoming paved with square-cut gray stone. More road signs appeared here and there, but after she found that they were all written in one of several nonsense languages like the first one she¡¯d seen, she began to ignore them entirely.


    Upon seeing a figure in the distance at the next fork in the road, she quickened her pace until she was half-running. As she got closer, she was both relieved and annoyed to find Nyx standing there; hands on hips, wearing a self-satisfied grin. Still wearing that god-awful blazer, though she had changed out her stilettos for some more travel-sensible boots somewhere. Not that they did anything to complement her disastrous outfit.


    ¡°I found youuu,¡± Nyx said in a singsong voice. ¡°I was starting to think I¡¯d lost you for good. That would have been slightly embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°You murdered me,¡± Sam replied flatly, keeping a healthy distance between herself and the strange woman.


    ¡°And it was truly an honor.¡± Nyx gave a mocking curtsy and an even more mocking smile. In a more serious tone, she added: ¡°It¡¯s the only way to get where you¡¯re going.¡±


    ¡°And where is that, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Did you read the letter?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The first half mentioned some kind of tower. The second half was just gibberish.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about not being able to read the second part for now. It¡¯ll all make sense eventually.¡±


    ¡°The note said that too. I¡¯m not so sure I believe it.¡±


    Nyx shrugged, pursing her lips in a way that seemed to say she thought Sam was being unreasonable. ¡°Anyway, as for the tower you mentioned, it¡¯s known as the Tower at the End of Time. It lies at the end of one of these paths.¡± She motioned around her at all the different directions available to them. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I found you, because it would be almost impossible for you to find the right way on your own.¡±


    ¡°What would happen if I picked the wrong one?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing all that bad, for you at least. Well, probably. All these paths lead to what humans would consider ¡®afterlives¡¯. Some of them are quite pleasant, or so I hear.¡± Nyx¡¯s smile dropped away, her face going unnervingly slack. ¡°Some aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°And this¡­ Tower? It¡¯s one of those afterlives?¡±


    ¡°Oh, dear me, no. The Tower is the entrance. The actual place is known as the Frontier.¡± Nyx spent a moment deliberating, then picked a path on the left and started moving, waving Sam along. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s walk and talk. We¡¯ve got a ways ahead of us. We¡¯ll have to do some backtracking since you started along the wrong path.¡±


    ¡°Okay. So shouldn¡¯t we go back the way I came, then? Trace it to where I started?¡±


    Nyx snorted derisively and hit Sam with a sidelong glance. ¡°Just leave this to the professionals, dear.¡± As they walked on, oaks replaced by poplars and birches, she added: ¡°Point being, if you ended up anyplace other than the Frontier, there would be no going back, and you would never get to meet with my employer, which is sort of the whole point of this, so.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯re not human, are you?¡± Sam asked abruptly.


    Nyx chuckled. ¡°Oh? And what do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ A vampire or something? Or an evil spirit?¡±


    ¡°Your second guess is not too far off. I¡¯m a demon. At least, that is the name your kind has given mine.¡±


    Sam stopped in the road. ¡°Wait, seriously?¡±


    Nyx went on for a few moments before following suit, turning back with her arms folded beneath her breasts. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly serious. Is that really the part of this you¡¯re having the most trouble with?¡±


    Sam reluctantly started moving again. ¡°I guess it doesn¡¯t matter at this point.¡± That doesn¡¯t mean I have to like trusting a literal demon to be my guide.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my employer is quite human, and he has your best interests at heart, bless the poor dear.¡±


    ¡°The letter said he was a friend.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it would, at that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of those.¡±


    ¡°Aw, that¡¯s too bad.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Are you going to tell me who organized this whole thing already?¡±


    Nyx wagged an admonishing finger. ¡°Nope. My lips are sealed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Will, isn¡¯t it?¡± Sam blurted out. If she was already dreaming, why not dream big? Besides, out of everyone she had ever known, Will was the only one who would ever come up with anything half this convoluted, let alone actually do it.


    The demon¡¯s face fell a bit. ¡°Way to ruin the surprise.¡±


    ¡°So it is him?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm. No point denying it now. Of course, you¡¯ll still have to act suitably dazzled and amazed when you actually meet him.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Sam said numbly. Despite the fact that she had arrived at that conclusion herself, she couldn¡¯t quite believe that Will was somewhere out there, waiting for her. As she thought about it, though, she found herself frowning, feeling a twinge of annoyance. ¡°Hold on. If Will is behind all this, why didn¡¯t he just say so? I would have come running straight away.¡±


    ¡°Something boring about not wanting to influence your decisions and bla bla bla. I wasn¡¯t really listening. He certainly knows how to drone on, that boy.¡±


    Sam¡¯s negativity was drowned in a sea of fondness at the memory of him. ¡°Yeah, he really does. And once he gets going, anything you say goes right past him.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Quite tiring.¡±


    ¡°Infuriating.¡±


    ¡°Men.¡±


    ¡°Men,¡± Sam agreed, though it came out sounding a bit more dreamy than she had intended.


    They kept walking. More crossroads. The path changed again, becoming a smooth mail of what looked to be huge green fish scales. She had to be careful when she walked on them, lest she trip herself up on the edges. Every so often, Nyx would stop to read one or several road signs before picking a direction. Evidently, she had no trouble reading the nonsense words. Maybe it was a demon language.


    ¡°This Frontier place,¡± Sam said as they continued on, ¡°I assume it¡¯s a nice afterlife, then?¡±


    Nyx quirked an eyebrow. ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°I mean, if Will¡¯s there, then¡­¡±


    The demon laughed. ¡°You have a lot of faith in your little friend, it seems. Actually, you might describe the Frontier as more hell than heaven at this point. Unless you¡¯re someone like me, in which case it¡¯s the perfect playground.¡±


    Sam frowned. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound right. Will is a good person. He wouldn¡¯t get sent to a place like that.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t know him well enough, then. The Forlorn Frontier is a world created by the goddess Era to serve as a place of redemption and rehabilitation for humans who have led particularly criminal or immoral lives. A second chance, you could say.


    ¡°As a nice way of helping these people adjust to living proper, peaceful lives, the goddess introduced something known as the Concord¡ªan autonomous system that presides over the whole Frontier, bestowing certain supernatural abilities upon every mortal who comes there. These gifts are exclusively designed for peace. To promote productivity and happiness. All perfectly harmless.¡± Nyx grinned. ¡°What do you think happened next?¡±


    Sam gave a half-shrug, jumping over a green road tile that jutted dangerously straight up. ¡°Dunno. What happened?¡±


    ¡°Well, you humans are deliciously shrewd things. Busy little bees, too. Give a world full of convicts each a soft pillow made with love and kisses under a perfect rainbow, and it doesn¡¯t take them very long to figure out how to smother each other with them.


    ¡°Which is exactly what happened. One human¡ªdon¡¯t ask me how, because I have no idea¡ªmurdered the goddess. Crow, they called that one. The Frontier fell into chaos, every man killing his neighbor in a brutal bid for power and resources, twisting the Concord against its intended purpose to forge themselves into deadly tools of war. Well, that happened some years ago, and things have mostly stabilized since. The goddess¡¯s angels all fled into exile, or killed themselves out of grief, or retreated to plot their revenge against humanity, or met with one of a dozen other fates depending on who you ask. Unambiguous, however, is the fact that my kind are the ones who stepped in to take their place. The angel who used to man the Tower was replaced by a demon named Unger who is only concerned with his own personal amusement, often at the expense of the poor mortals who must pass through his domain to reach the Frontier.¡±


    Nyx threw her arms wide. She spun in lazy pirouettes while somehow nimbly stepping along the scaled roadway without snagging on anything. ¡°Sounds wonderful, doesn¡¯t it? So much violence. So much depravity. So much opportunity.¡± The demon let out an almost orgasmic sigh.


    Sam licked her lips. ¡°Uh, sure.¡± It sounded terrifying. ¡°And¡­ that¡¯s where Will is?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm. Oh, don¡¯t look so put out. The Frontier might not be the endless field of daisies that every human girl dreams they¡¯ll go to when they die, but your William has paid dearly to get you there. He seems to be on some sort of one-man crusade to turn the place into something better¡ªpointless if you ask me, since it¡¯s already perfect, but to each their own¡ªand he thinks you¡¯re absolutely imperative to that endeavor. So how about you try on some gratitude for size? It might suit you.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Sam grunted, suppressing the hysterical urge to laugh. She didn¡¯t have a clue what to think about any of this. It was probably best not to give it too much thought.


    Just a dream, remember. It¡¯s aaall a dream.


    But man, I never knew my imagination was this good.


    ¡°Well, here we are.¡±


    Sam looked up, and started as she found a giant vertical bar of white blocking most of her sightline. Taking a few steps back and craning her neck, she found a pearly tower rising as far as the eye could see, disappearing into the churning purple clouds high above. Lacking any seams or windows, it was a perfect, unbroken pillar whose very existence seemed to defy its dreary surroundings, a slash of utter purity brightening the land''s dark and muddy palette.


    Letting her gaze trail back down again, she found that the tower had only a single break in its perfection; a wooden door of rough-grain boards with a rounded top, adorned by a brass door knob that shone as though fresh-made.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see it on the horizon,¡± Sam said breathlessly.


    ¡°Yes, it does sort of creep up on you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Nyx chuckled. She made no move to approach the tower. ¡°This is where you and I part ways for now, Samantha. I cannot enter the Tower¡ªat least, I can¡¯t return to the Frontier that way. I have my own back entrance.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± Sam found herself suddenly apprehensive to leave her guide behind, however badly she despised her company. She went all the way up to the door and put her hand on the knob before looking back. ¡°Thanks for everything, I guess. It seems like you¡¯re on Will¡¯s side, so I can¡¯t hate you or anything. Still don¡¯t appreciate getting murdered so much, though.¡±


    ¡°Your affection warms my heart,¡± Nyx said, a hand to her chest and sticking her lower lip out in a simpering pout. ¡°Now go, before I start tearing up!¡±


    Sam snorted and turned back to her task. She pulled open the door on well-oiled hinges, revealing a field of brilliant light through which nothing could be seen. Before doubt could root her to the ground, she stepped through.


    The light passed over her like a warm membrane; blinding, yet somehow comforting. She poked through the other side, and found herself¡­


    At the top of the tower?


    She was clearly very, very high up, with no walls or roof to obscure the dizzying bird¡¯s eye view. A sea of billowing clouds spread out around her and went on forever. They were cottony white, tinged golden by a kindly sun. She stood on a round floor of white marble shot through with rose-colored veins, low crenellations marking its edges some twenty feet off in every direction to prevent an unwary stepper from tumbling right off into the clouds. When she glanced back, she found that there was no door behind her, nor any indication of a way to get down.


    Though it had been twilight while she was on the ground, now the sun shone almost directly down on her, leaving her shadow a formless black blob at her feet.


    The far end of the floor was taken up by a lone apple tree sprouting from a handful of displaced tiles, standing somewhat to her left. The tree leaned over a large desk of dark wood, its sheltering branches offering shade.


    The desk was so large and imposing that Sam did not realize it had an occupant until he spoke.


    ¡°Did you know,¡± the unseen man¡ªthe demon Unger, presumably?¡ªsaid in a soft, droning voice, ¡°that this tree has fifty-two apples and thirteen-thousand-two-hundred-forty-three leaves? I¡¯ve counted, you know.¡±


    As Sam walked closer, she could hear the telltale hiss and whir of hydraulics, and the demon soon rose into view over the desk on what Sam could only categorize as a regal-looking office chair, upholstered in rich velvet. His legs were thrown lazily over one armrest while he gazed wistfully up at the apple tree, whose green leaves shivered on a light breeze. One leaf detached from its branch and floated away. Unger¡¯s eyes tracked its movements as it passed overhead, then spiraled abruptly over the edge of the tower, snatched off into eternity. ¡°Thirteen-thousand-two-hundred-forty-two leaves.¡±


    Unger had the same pallid complexion as Nyx, except his skin had more of a greenish undertone. He was bald as a marble, but made up for it with extremely long eyebrows that arched away from his head and ended in wickedly sharp black points. He wore a black suit with the jacket hanging over the backrest of his chair and a blood-red tie that he¡¯d loosened and let drape limply down over one shoulder.


    ¡°Well?¡± Unger asked without looking in her direction. ¡°What do you think about that?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It must have taken a long time to count them all, I guess.¡±


    Unger let out a long, deep sigh, like a balloon deflating. ¡°Quite the conversationalist, aren¡¯t you? Well, whatever. Come over here and sign the damn contract so we can both get on with our respective days. Before you ask¡ªyes, you have to sign the contract. No, you cannot bring any pets or possessions with you. No, I will not sit and explain every little thing to you. Sign the contract, pick your shit, and move along. I''ve got quotas to meet.¡±


    Sam rubbed the back of her neck as she approached the desk. Well, this guy sure lives up to his reputation. And he thinks I¡¯m bad company.

 Chapter 7 - Laboring Under the Pleasant Delusion of Free Will

    Sam


    Unger rooted through the endless number of drawers in his huge desk. He grumbled as he pitched his mechanized chair up and down to reach one drawer or another, before finally producing a large clipboard with a triumphant hum. He slid it across the desktop to her side so it teetered on the edge, threatening to fall. Sam reached up to take it, dislodging a thick ballpoint pen affixed to the top of the wooden board.


    ¡°Sign,¡± Unger said curtly, his attention already drifting elsewhere. ¡°Your full legal name, please¡ªit will be saved as a matter of record.¡±


    Sam looked down at the thick stack of papers pinned to the clipboard, skimming the first page and glancing at a few of the others. At least it was in English. It looked like a contract all right. Written in dense legalese, it was filled with strange and seemingly nonsensical clauses she did not even bother to try and make sense of. The first page had a dotted line to sign her name on.


    ¡°Once you¡¯ve signed the contract, you will have forged an accord with the goddess Era, and be granted access to the Concord system,¡± Unger droned on in a bored voice.


    Sam hesitated. Will¡¯s letter had told her to sign the contract, but she couldn¡¯t help feeling a bit apprehensive. Despite the fact that most of the text made no sense to her, there were a few worrying clauses in there, such as one stating: ¡®All the signee¡¯s spiritual worship/devotion/expression, regardless of whether it is targeted at another deity/entity/religious figure, will be redirected to the goddess Era in perpetuity.¡¯ Sam had never been particularly religious, but something about that sounded sinister.


    Sam opened her mouth to speak, but Unger beat her to the punch. ¡°No questions,¡± he said firmly, playing with one of his spiky eyebrows. ¡°Shit or get off the pot. If you don¡¯t want to sign, I can send you back the way you came.¡±


    Sam¡¯s mouth went into a tight line, but she held her peace. Reminding herself that Will thought it was okay, she scribbled ¡®Samantha Darling¡¯ on the dotted line. Flipping through the countless sheets below, she found nothing else that needed her signature. ¡°All right, what¡ª¡±


    A harsh light flared in front of her eyes, leaving her vision white and throbbing. When she was finally able to blink away the blurry smears, she found that she was on her hands and knees, the clipboard lying discarded a few feet off to her right.


    What¡­ was that? she thought, dazed.


    ¡°Congratulations on gaining access to the Concord system, yadda yadda yadda,¡± Unger¡¯s voice drifted down from above her. ¡°Feel free to get up any day now, so we can continue with the second part of the orientation process.¡±


    Sam retrieved the clipboard as she staggered to her feet. Her vision had mostly returned to normal, with only a thin field of distorted color at the edges, but the text still looked¡­ odd, somehow. The letters didn¡¯t look right to her, almost illegible, even though she had been reading it fine just seconds ago. She had to focus intently to be able to make out more than a word or two.


    ¡°A certain level of disorientation is a normal side-effect of Concord integration,¡± Unger informed, sighing. ¡°Give me that back, please, so we can move on.¡±


    Sam threw the clipboard back up onto the high desktop with a sharp smack, but took a few steps back when the demon tried to hand her something else. ¡°Hold on,¡± she said as she began digging through her pocket, remembering what she had been instructed regarding the second note.


    This time, when she looked at the first note, it appeared much as the text on the clipboard did; a block of jumbled, barely recognizable symbols. Meanwhile, the second note was perfectly legible, as though she had been reading it her whole life, even though she knew deep down that it wasn¡¯t English, nor any other language she was familiar with.


    This text, much shorter than the first, read:


    I, Samantha Darling, hereby vow that I shall never make use of a Concord-granted ¡®skill¡¯ ability for as long as I live.


    In return, I ask to receive twice the number of Concord-granted ¡®attribute points¡¯ whenever they are given to me for any reason.


    And so our accord is made.


    Sam frowned at the note, compulsively checking the blank backside of the paper slip several times to make sure there was nothing else on there.


    She wasn¡¯t sure what she¡¯d been expecting, but if she was hoping for answers, she was sorely disappointed.


    Unger, however, seemed to recognize the thing she was holding, pistoning his chair as high as it would go in fits and starts until he towered high above the desk. He craned his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the text. ¡°What is that?¡± he demanded. ¡°What is that thing you¡¯re holding? Tell me immediately.¡±


    Sam took another few steps back¡ªglancing over her shoulder to make sure she didn¡¯t accidentally walk off the edge of the tower into thin air¡ªand held the note tight to her chest. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s private.¡± I think.


    ¡°What does it say?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s any of your business. Now if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯m going to eat this piece of paper.¡± Without waiting another moment, Sam balled up the second note and popped it in her mouth.


    ¡°You!¡± the demon cried, the languor gone from his expression and replaced by wild-eyed excitement. ¡°You¡¯re the one I¡¯ve been waiting for! The special case!¡±


    Sam could not reply with her mouth was full of mulchy, wet cellulose. She chewed until her jaws hurt, then swallowed the sodden mouthful piecemeal, a taste of old broadsheet left on her tongue.


    She was hit with a second flash, smaller than the first. It sent her stumbling, but she managed to stay on her feet by catching herself against the desk. Something formed in her mind, a thought that was not her own. It coalesced into a string of words, or a series of images, or a whispered voice, or maybe all three at once, coming together to form a single unit of meaning.


    [Divine vow accepted.]


    ¡°Samantha Darling, yes, I remember now,¡± Unger prattled on, nodding to himself. He was sitting upright now, leaning forward with his hands on the desk. For the first time, his full attention was on Sam. ¡°I mean, I knew it couldn¡¯t just have been idle talk considering that Nyx made those deferred contracts with me, but I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually show up.¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Sam managed a shaky smile. ¡°I guess you can think of me as a happy surprise.¡±


    ¡°You must allow me to help you with your build selection.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it,¡± she lied. ¡°What do I do now?¡±


    Unger slid another clipboard in her direction, not taking his burning amber eyes off her for a moment. ¡°What vow did you make, exactly? What did you get in return?¡±


    Ignoring him, Sam looked over the new clipboard. The sheet pinned to it was written in the same strange language that was somehow perfectly familiar now.


    Please select one of the following Professions to serve as your role on Faerlon. The Concord representative responsible for your orientation will be happy to elaborate on the Profession features and answer any questions you may have.


    Artisan


    Builder


    Cook


    Entertainer


    Explorer


    Farmer


    Laborer


    Physician


    Scholar


    Trader


    NOTE: Any selections made through the Concord are permanent, and cannot be altered.


    Sam scanned over the list a few times. The only actually exciting one was Explorer, but the letter had told her to choose Laborer, even though that looked like maybe the most boring option. The thought of spending her afterlife as a menial worker did not appeal.


    But then, Nyx had said that this system, the Concord or whatever, was no longer used for its intended purpose. Maybe the name of the Profession didn¡¯t mean all that much in reality.


    Sam glanced up at the demon, who met her look with an enraptured stare of his own. She resisted the urge to ask him about any of this. If Will said he was full of shit, he was full of shit.


    With a shrug, Sam circled ¡®Laborer¡¯ on the sheet with the pen provided. Again, her mind formed foreign impressions.


    [Profession selected: Laborer.]


    The letters on the sheet began to shimmer and shift, rearranging themselves. In moments, a whole new text presented itself.


    Please allocate your 1st level attribute points as you wish among any of your available attribute scores.


    Available points: (10)


    Strength: (_)


    Toughness: (_)


    Dexterity: (_)


    Senses: (_)


    With a brief glow, the ¡®10¡¯ next to ¡®Available points¡¯ became a ¡®20¡¯. Presumably as a result of this vow she had apparently made, since it had mentioned something about doubling her attribute points. She wasn¡¯t sure if twenty was a lot or a little, but she liked the look of her options a bit better this time around. Humming to herself, she spent a minute spreading out her points based on what sounded good off the top of her head. Whenever she put a number down in one of the empty fields, the scribbled symbol would straighten out and darken in color until it looked machine-typed. The ¡®Available points¡¯ number automatically went down, until at last it was at ¡®0¡¯. Sam held the clipboard at arm¡¯s length, examining her work.


    Please allocate your 1st level attribute points as you wish among any of your available attribute scores.


    Available points: (0)


    Strength: (8)


    Toughness: (6)


    Dexterity: (6)


    Senses: (_)


    [Attribute changes accepted.]


    Unger finally got a glimpse over the edge of the clipboard just before the text began to change again, and he launched into a fit of neurotic giggling. ¡°Oh, so that¡¯s what your vow is! Clever¡ªvery clever.¡± He sounded impressed, looking at Sam as though she had risen in his estimation from insignificant ant to something approaching a fellow sentient being.


    Not like I thought up any of this stuff myself, though.


    This time, the sheet had taken on the appearance of an ¡®Abilities¡¯ section, showing her a list of potential options.


    Please spend (2) upgrade points on any of the following abilities that are available to you.


    NOTE: You can spend more than 1 upgrade point on a single ability. Ask your Concord representative for more information.


    ¡°Please allow me to give you some salient advice on choosing your abilities,¡± Unger said, dry-washing his hands. ¡°After guiding countless millions of mortals, I am somewhat of an expert on the subject.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks,¡± Sam replied, in as neutral a tone as her rising annoyance would allow.


    The list of abilities was rather long, taking up several sheets. Some were listed as ¡®skills¡¯, while others were listed as ¡®passives¡¯. They were separated across three tiers, with all but the Tier 3 abilities grayed out and unavailable to her. The letter had told her only to choose passives, which finally made some sort of sense given her vow not to use any skills granted by the Concord. With that in mind, Sam picked out two passive abilities that sounded appealing, even though their short descriptions did not give her much to go off of.


    Stoneskin (_)


    Tier: 3.


    Requirements: Laborer.


    Type: Hybrid (Constant/Polymorphic).


    Description: Your skin becomes harder, making it more difficult to pierce or penetrate. Ideal for working in adverse conditions to mitigate risk of injury.


    Tenacious (_)


    Tier: 3.


    Requirements: Laborer.


    Type: Constant.


    Description: It is much more difficult for you to be rendered unconscious against your will. Ideal for working in adverse conditions where access to aid is sporadic or unavailable, allowing the user to see themselves to safety in case of injury.


    It also appeared that she got another passive for free by selecting Laborer¡ªsomething called Healing Factor.


    Healing Factor (1)


    Tier: 3.


    Requirements: Laborer.


    Type: Constant.


    Description: Your body¡¯s natural self-healing mechanism is accelerated, allowing you to recover more quickly from various injuries. Ideal for all types of heavy labor where the injury risk is high.


    That did look quite appealing.


    Sam put one upgrade point each into Stoneskin and Tenacious, leaving her with zero unallocated points remaining.


    [Ability selection accepted.]


    The text on the clipboard changed once more, seemingly for the final time.


    The following is a summary of your selection.


    Name: Samantha Darling.


    Level: 1.


    Profession: Laborer.


    Attributes: Strength (8), Toughness (6), Dexterity (6), Senses (0).


    Abilities: Healing Factor, Stoneskin, Tenacious.


    Please enjoy your new life on Faerlon, [Samantha Darling]!

 Chapter 8 - Laboring Under the Pleasant Illusion of Free Will [2]

    Sam


    ¡°Finished already?¡± Unger pouted. ¡°You¡¯re really not a very good sport.¡±


    ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t wait for me to get out of here,¡± Sam said.


    The demon waved away her retort. ¡°That was before I learned you were someone interesting. Now, since you insisted on butchering your build without my input, at least allow me to give you some general advice that will undoubtedly serve you well in the Forlorn Frontier. You¡ª¡±


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯d like to get on with my day, if possible,¡± Sam cut in, flashing her nastiest grin. ¡°Lots to do¡ªyou know how it is.¡±


    Unger¡¯s gray-green face tightened with fury. ¡°Fine,¡± he said in a curt, clipped tone. ¡°Step right over here, and we will get you on your way.¡±


    Rolling his towering contraption of a chair to the side, he motioned to the far end of the circular floorspace. As Sam rounded the desk, she saw that there was something like a short springboard of polished stone jutting out from a gap in the toothy crenellations.


    ¡°You''re expecting me to jump?¡± Sam asked, cautiously approaching the suspended stone slab and eyeing the sea of clouds laid out below it.


    It was Unger¡¯s turn to give a nasty smile. ¡°That is the way, yes.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not a second door I could go through or anything?¡±


    ¡°Afraid not.¡±


    Sam¡¯s steps grew shorter and more hesitant as she approached the springboard, until she was inching along, shuffling on the marble. She had never been particularly afraid of heights, but when she thought about the thousands of feet that no doubt separated her from the ground, it made her stomach lurch. ¡°And what if I can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure we will figure something out,¡± Unger hummed soothingly.


    Sam glanced back, finding that the demon had jumped out of his lowered chair and was standing disconcertingly close behind her, as if angling for an opportunity to punt her over the edge.


    Rather than face that alternative, Sam quickly scampered out onto the springboard, the hairs on her arms spiking with every step. There was no sign of land through the cottony clouds that now took up her entire field of vision, but she still felt a surge of vertigo knotting her guts, everything seeming to sway even though she stood frozen stiff. The tips of her toes nudged just over the end, gripping for purchase.


    The note did tell me to take a leap of faith, I suppose.


    Before the rational part of Sam¡¯s brain could begin to convince her of the absurdity of this plan, she plunged a foot over the edge of the tower. The moment she began falling she wished she could take it back, but it was too late now. The wind roared in her ears, ripped at her clothing, dried out her eyes.


    She was tumbling, everything spinning, her stomach rebelling. She belly-flopped straight into a cloud bank, and the world became a field of uniform gray, moisture beading on her cheeks and sticking to her clothing.


    Her scream was torn away on the howling wind.


    * * *


    Sam must have passed out at some point, because when she came to she was face down with a mouth full of sand. Spitting and coughing, shivering with wet and cold, she dragged herself onto her hands and knees, requiring several tries to manage it, and immediately found that she was buck naked.


    She sat hunched over on a rocky beach beneath an overcast sky, waves smacking her butt every few moments none-too-politely. Cursing under her breath, Sam dragged herself higher onto the beach, out of the reach of the choppy ocean that lay behind her. Overhead, there were disappointed cries from a pack of seagulls that had hoped for a nice fat carcass to pick apart, occasionally drowned by the crashing swell of waves on the jagged black cliffs that jutted out of the earth to her left. Maybe a hundred feet ahead, the beach was broken by a dense treeline that stretched on as far as she could see to her right.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Frozen so deep she felt she would shatter into little icy shards if someone took a mallet to her, Sam wanted nothing more than to find a safe nook somewhere, out of the wind and the wet, where she could catch her breath. Unfortunately, she wasn¡¯t even sure she could stand up, let alone find herself a suitable resting spot. If she allowed herself to collapse where she was, she was pretty sure she would die of exposure. Even though she knew that, a piece of her hypothermia-addled mind thought it seemed like an excellent idea to simply sprawl out and close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Just to get some strength back.


    Don¡¯t worry, Sam thought, trying and failing to stop her teeth from chattering. This is part of the plan, right? Will has a plan, doesn¡¯t he? And I mean, this is a dream, so what does it matter anyway?


    Except¡­ If it¡¯s all a dream, why am I so afraid to fall asleep?


    Because when you fall asleep in a dream, you wake up.


    I don¡¯t want to wake up yet. Not before I see him.


    I just want to see him.


    Finding a surge of strength somewhere deep inside, Sam tipped herself back onto her haunches, hissing breaths through gritted teeth, then got a foot beneath her. She stood on wobbly legs, took a step, and fell as her knees buckled. She spent the next minute recreating her first miraculous success, tried a few tottering steps, and when her legs held she began a laborious trudge along the beach.


    Nestled beneath the shoulder of the nearby cliffs, she noticed a manmade structure¡ªa tall wooden watchtower that overlooked the beach¡ªand some little black dots moving beneath it. Were those people? They were moving away from her, going toward a gap between two sharp dagger-points of rock that presumably led to a path along the left side of the coast, separated from Sam¡¯s view by the cliffs. If they went much further, they would not be able to see her anymore.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Sam cried, nearly falling when she raised her arms over her head to wave them down, teetering until she caught her balance again. She coughed at the bits of sand that had somehow made their way down her throat, and spat out a grainy gob of saliva. ¡°Hey! Over here!¡±


    Sam was worried that they would not hear her with the sound of the ocean, but they seemed to be turning around, and she let herself fall back on her butt with relief when she saw the little dots growing steadily larger, becoming recognizable as definitely human.


    Sam held herself tight, shivering, and waited for them to reach her. They were four men, dressed in padded coats, each with a cudgel on one hip and a round buckler on the other.


    ¡°I¡¯m r-r-really glad to see you,¡± Sam worked out through numb, uncooperative lips. ¡°Could you¡­ Could you g-get me someplace warm? Clothes? Anything?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a Laborer, Tinny,¡± one of the men whispered to another, sounding pleased. ¡°We¡¯ll be getting paid big for this one.¡±


    Sam¡¯s relief quickly evaporated as she glanced between four hardened faces, and finally noticed the heavy shackles that the man at the back was working on untangling.


    ¡°If you want clothes and chow, stand up and come with us,¡± a flat-nosed man¡ªTinny, his friend had called him¡ªsaid. ¡°You make it easy for us, you get to walk on your own. You decide to be difficult, you get the chains. You make trouble after that, well¡­¡± He patted the weapon at his belt. ¡°We got ways of teaching a girl some manners.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Sam sighed, the last of her hope escaping with a flaccid outrushing of air. ¡°You¡­ You guys aren¡¯t here to help, are you?¡±


    Tinny¡¯s friend shrugged. ¡°Sorry, darling. Life sucks¡ªyou can whine about it on your own time.¡±


    He bent down to grab Sam by the shoulder. Instinctively, she caught his forearm in an effort to divert him, fingers clamping down with strength fueled by desperation.


    Sam blinked as she both heard and felt several sharp pops. Tinny¡¯s friend cried out in agony and recoiled as though from a venomous snake, his awkwardly bent right arm clutched protectively with his left. ¡°Fuck!¡± he shrieked, backing off behind the other men. ¡°She just broke my arm!¡±


    Tinny frowned at his friend, then back at Sam. ¡°Crazy bitch must¡¯ve put all her points in Strength,¡± he muttered. ¡°Right¡ªDalton, Spuds, take care of her.¡± He motioned to each of the remaining two other men in turn.


    A lumpy-faced man¡ªSpuds¡ªstepped forward with a sigh. Holding up a hand, he said: ¡°Peace.¡±


    For some reason, that word held power, reverberated unnaturally in the air between them.


    When Dalton moved in to clamp manacles down on Sam¡¯s wrists and a collar around her neck, she found that she was unable to lift a hand to resist. Whenever she tried to punch or kick or shove, the idea seemed to slide away like rain off a tarp.


    By the time this strange lapse wore off a few seconds later, she had been dragged to her feet by her chains, and was forced to stagger along behind as the men trudged off toward their watchtower.


    Will¡­ Sam thought numbly. Where are you? This can¡¯t be part of the plan, can it?

 Chapter 9 - Artie the Friendly Slave Trader

    Will


    Will carefully monitored the steam rising from the evaporating dish, tweaking a small gas burner below to avoid the liquid coming to a boil. In a few minutes, it would be reduced enough to Prepare the final product of curare oil he used to coat blades and arrowheads.


    Seeing that the process was running smoothly, he turned his attention to another project on the cluttered workbench; a stone mortar filled partway with dried, brownish flower petals. Goatweed; able to be both mixed into potions and poultices to speed up the healing of wounds. He took up the heavy pestle and began grinding the petals into a fine powder. He would mix this batch with a water base and smaller amounts of a few other herbs to make healing potions, enough for about a half-dozen.


    Absorbed in thought, idly humming to himself, Will eventually realized that he had forgotten about the curare, the burner setup standing in the blind spot of his missing left eye. Luckily he had not left it too long, and he turned off the flame just as the clear oil reached the correct consistency. He was transferring the viscous liquid into a vial using a small ceramic scraper when the door to the workshop came open with the telltale rough-handed banging of one of the chimps.


    Will cut a cork for the vial and stoppered it, stuck an adhesive label to the front of it that explained its contents, and set it up on a high shelf along with many other of his finished poisons. He set aside the labware he had used for later cleanup, and turned to face the vest-wearing chimp standing in the doorway.


    ¡°What is it, Number One?¡± he asked, arms crossed. ¡°Tell Mongrel that if he wants something from me, he can come ask me himself like a grown adult. Also¡­¡± He pointed an admonishing finger at the cigarette hanging from the corner of the old ape¡¯s mouth. ¡°I told you, no smoking in my workshop. If you can¡¯t follow some simple rules, I¡¯ll stop making more of those things.¡±


    Number One did not look intimidated, but made a show of grinding out his cigarette against the gravel outside, stuffing the unsmoked half in a vest pocket for later consumption. ¡®Scary lady back,¡¯ he signed, then motioned with one long arm toward the farmhouse a ways up the shallow incline.


    Will did not wait for details, shouting his thanks in passing as he snatched his coat off the hook by the door and pushed past the chimp. He labored up to the main house, where three of the other boys sat on the porch telling rude jokes to each other in sign¡ªand, of course, smoking¡ªand headed inside. Mongrel met him in the hall and started telling him something, but Will ignored him. He stopped only when he caught the naked profile of the demon lying on the floor in front of the hearth, having just lit a crackling fire¡ªdespite the fact that it was the middle of the day, and nearly summer to boot.


    ¡°Talk,¡± Will snapped, holding a hand up in front of Mongrel¡¯s face to keep him from cutting in.


    ¡°Everything went perfectly, more or less,¡± Nyx said without looking back. Yawning, she stretched out her legs and settled into a more comfortable position. ¡°Pretending to be a human was fun. Earth is a strange place.¡±


    ¡°Riveting. You can tell us the play-by-play about your tourist experience later. What about Sam? She went along with it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, she died quite beautifully.¡±


    Will closed his one eye and took a deep, calming breath. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°I guided her through the Crossroads without issue and left her at the Tower. Assuming Unger holds up his end of the bargain, which he will, she should appear at the Shore of Awakening any minute now, if she hasn¡¯t already.¡±


    Will turned to leave the room without another word, having heard what he needed to know. Mongrel hurried after him in his awkward, shambling run. ¡°You going to get her?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Yup,¡± Will replied. Retrieving his sword belt and strapping on the weapon, he exited the house and hopped off the front porch. He strode across the grazing field that made up a good chunk of the property, grass clipped short by greedy animal mouths.


    ¡°Want a couple of the boys along for company? The Shore can get dicey, you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m faster on my own.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡±


    Will stopped, looking back at the ugly little man who had fallen behind and was standing a ways off. ¡°Thanks for worrying,¡± Will said. ¡°But I¡¯ll be fine. Me and Sam both.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried,¡± Mongrel grumbled, crossing his arms tightly like a pouty child. His round cheeks developed a rosy flush. ¡°But do you think you¡¯ll be back by tonight? It¡¯s not good to spend the night out there, either in the woods or on the beach.¡±


    Will sighed, throwing his arms up. ¡°I have no idea when I¡¯ll be back. Hopefully within a few hours, but I¡¯ll stay out there until I¡¯ve got her.¡±


    ¡°Just don¡¯t kill yourself over it. The Shore of Awakening goes on for a long stretch.¡±


    Will did not answer. Turning away from Mongrel, he crossed the last bit of the property and entered the dense leafy forest beyond. He stepped over roots and around rocks, sticking to game trails he knew as he headed south.


    Normally, Will would have exercised a certain level of caution when entering any Frontier forest, but there was no time for that now. He picked up speed as he went, occasionally launching himself into a Dash that sent him zipping through the air, kicking off tree trunks, bouncing between them, vaulting over difficult terrain that would have taken minutes to cut through or navigate around.


    Faster, faster, faster he soared, only his points in Senses and Processing allowing him to react to the obstacles coming at him at bone-crushing speeds, swinging off branches and springboarding off boles, once Repelling himself away from a boulder appearing out of nowhere behind a small rise to avoid a collision.


    Will skidded onto the drab, grainy sand of the Shore of Awakening before the sun had reached its noonday peak overhead, a hazy blotch of light visible through the cloud cover. He was breathing heavily, hair plastered to his skull with sweat, chest heaving as he rested hands on knees.


    He still had 11 out of 14 AP remaining for the search ahead, but his extensive use of cantrips to cut the travel time was hitting him hard. He sucked air in raspy wheezes, missing ribs making his respiratory system work all the harder to function properly.


    But Will had no time to stop and rest. As soon as he¡¯d caught his breath, he forced himself straight and said: ¡°Detect [Samantha Darling].¡± Another AP crystal on his arm went dark, and he scanned the terrain around him for the influx of visual data confirming that he had found his mark. No luck.


    Moving back into the treeline to avoid discovery, Will continued east, prowling along the coastline while occasionally casting another Detect to cast a wider net for any sign of Sam, especially around the slaver watchtowers. If he didn¡¯t get her right as she came out of the water, there was a good chance she would end up at one of those. While unpleasant, especially if he was unable to find her before she was processed and sent into the city, the alternative where she managed to evade capture and make it into the woods frightened him nearly as much. There were worse things than slavers in the Forlorn Frontier, and at least slavers would usually take some pains to keep their product alive.


    I¡¯ll find her, Will thought, trying to feign confidence for his own benefit. I will find her.


    The search continued.


    * * *


    Sam


    Once she¡¯d been transported to the watchtower, Sam was released from all but her neck collar, which was fastened to the wall by a chain inside the single large room to keep her from escaping. She was given a shirt and trousers of the same gray roughspun fabric, and unhooked from her chain while she dressed, though she was placed back on her black-iron tether straight after. She had never worn anything so scratchy in her life, and both parts of her two-piece outfit were far too big, with only a frayed length of string to use for a belt. Tucking the shirt into her trousers and tying the ¡®belt¡¯ as tight as she managed, it at least kept everything more or less where it ought to be.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    After dressing, she was allowed to sit by the firepit at the center of the room, and given a bowl of hot oatmeal filled with savory bits of what she hoped was corned beef to warm her up. The four slavers that had caught her left again to get medical attention for the fellow with the broken arm, leaving only a fifth¡ªthe tower watchman who had been there when they arrived¡ªto oversee Sam and another young man they had caught that day.


    The lone slaver shuffled around for a while, going about mundane everyday activities like sweeping and doing his rounds and mending an old sock, before eventually taking a seat by the fire. The male slave stretched his chain taut to huddle in a corner as far away from another human as he could get, a faraway look in his eyes. A large welt covered almost the entire left side of his face. Evidently, he had not accepted his enslavement with the utmost grace.


    ¡°Hello,¡± the slaver said to Sam, his voice sounding strangely furtive given the circumstances. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about all this.¡± He glanced at the collar around her neck, then looked away with a wince, clearing his throat. ¡°Ahem. I know me being sorry probably doesn¡¯t make a difference, but still.¡±


    Sam threw the man a sidelong look¡ªtoo brawny to suit his soft voice¡ªthen swiveled her eyes back to stare at the fire instead. ¡°Just business, right?¡± she chuckled.


    ¡°I guess so.¡± The man felt at a gap in his bottom teeth with his tongue. ¡°I¡¯m Artie. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Sam.¡±


    Artie pointed toward a strange circular marking¡ªalmost like a tattoo¡ªat the top of Sam¡¯s left forearm, matching one on his own. She''d had enough on her mind that she hadn¡¯t even noticed it until now. ¡°You¡¯re a Laborer,¡± he said, motioning to the diagonal hammer at the center of the circle. ¡°Good for you.¡± He sounded sincere.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that good?¡±


    ¡°Laborers are valuable. Rare, too. You¡¯ll probably get recruited into the lord¡¯s militia, so you won¡¯t stay a slave for long. Just sit tight until then.¡±


    Sam shook her head, slowly but determinedly. She had no plans to remain a slave for any length of time. This dream is taking a really weird turn.


    ¡°Do you know someone named Will?¡± she asked when the slaver let the conversation lapse into silence. ¡°William Greene?¡±


    Artie frowned. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. Why?¡±


    ¡°He should be around here somewhere. I have to find him.¡±


    The big man¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Didn¡¯t you just wash up?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then you shouldn¡¯t know anyone on the Frontier. Are you talking about someone back on Earth? I¡¯m sorry, but you¡¯re better off forgetting the ones you knew in that life as soon as you can. Clinging to those memories will only lead to sleepless nights. Trust me¡ªit¡¯s better to let it fade.¡±


    Sam pressed her lips shut, uncertain. She wasn¡¯t sure how much it was wise to reveal about the circumstances that had brought her here. From what people had been telling her, it sounded like her situation was not typical. ¡°Yeah, I guess you¡¯re right,¡± she said after some time.


    It wasn¡¯t too long before Sam¡¯s frozen bones began to thaw. Having worked up an appetite, she asked for a second bowl of oatmeal, noticing that there was still a good bit left in the pot standing on a wooden board beside the fire.


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to give you anything else,¡± Artie said uncomfortably. ¡°Tinny says there¡¯s no point wasting food on slaves, since you get fed at the auction house in the city. But, well¡­¡± He glanced at the fellow in the corner. ¡°He didn¡¯t eat much, so I suppose giving you a bit extra wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡± He stood up and went to refill Sam¡¯s bowl with two extra ladlefuls of steaming slop. ¡°If anyone asks, I ate it, not you.¡±


    He gave her the bowl, and she thanked him with a smile before digging in. ¡°Could I make an observation?¡± she asked midway through her second portion.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Artie said, stirring the fire with a poker. It was starting to dwindle, but he wasn¡¯t putting any more wood on¡ªshe gathered it had mostly been for her benefit in the first place.


    ¡°You don¡¯t really seem much like the slaver type.¡±


    Artie shot her a quick, rueful smile, then his gaze darted away again. ¡°What¡¯s the ¡®slaver type¡¯ like?¡±


    ¡°You know, sleazy. A bit rapey, maybe. Your friends have pretty much got it down pat.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t do this because we like it, you know.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°I don¡¯t, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Then why do it?¡±


    A shrug. Artie began poking more aggressively at the fire. Streams of sparks somersaulted into the air, rising toward slitted vents in the ceiling. ¡°It was either that or the mines. I¡¯m a Trader, so it wasn¡¯t much of a choice. I wouldn¡¯t last a month digging for iron. I¡¯ve heard the stories that come out of that place.¡±


    ¡°Trader is your¡­ Profession, right?¡± The symbol on his arm had a set of balance scales, unlike her own hammer. ¡°Why don¡¯t you trade something a bit more normal than other humans?¡±


    ¡°Gee, why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡± Artie muttered. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. Nothing¡¯s simple here. You¡¯ll learn that soon enough. Or maybe you won¡¯t.¡± He glanced at her again, and there was a strange note of something¡ªcould it be jealousy?¡ªin his voice.


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, you¡¯ll end up in the militia, and you''ll probably get placed in the guardsman branch. They have it easy, as long as they stay on Brimstone¡¯s good side. Give it a few months, and you¡¯ll probably be shaking down people like me for ¡®protection money¡¯ or some such. If you¡¯re one of the good ones, you might leave us the clothes on our backs.¡±


    ¡°Is it really that bad?¡±


    Artie did not reply. Changing the topic, he motioned to the male slave with his smoking poker, the man snarling silently in return. ¡°Now that fellow, he¡¯s an Explorer. Poor guy. Headed straight for the mines.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s just too many of ¡®em to be useful for anything else, and they¡¯re convenient to use for menial labor. Ironically, Laborers almost never have to do work like that. They¡¯re too valuable.¡±


    Sam threw a sympathetic look in her fellow prisoner¡¯s direction. She was ashamed at the relief she felt over not choosing Explorer, like she¡¯d wanted. ¡°This place is fucking insane.¡±


    Artie laughed hysterically at that, like it was the funniest joke he¡¯d ever heard. It sounded like he wanted to cry instead. At the creak of footsteps coming up the stairs to the raised guard room, he suddenly went quiet, then yanked the half-empty bowl out of Sam¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said quickly. ¡°Just be quiet and do as they say, and they won¡¯t hurt you.¡± Raising his voice, he called: ¡°How''d it go, Tin¡ª¡±


    He was cut off by a cacophony of wood tearing and metal groaning as the door flew inward off its hinges, flipping as it shot over the fire. Artie barely had time to widen his eyes in surprise before the door hurtled into him and carried him clean off his feet, slamming them both against the other wall. Sam stared as the door fell flat with a heavy thump, and the big man sagged limply on top of it.


    Turning her attention back to the now-open doorway, she saw a man standing there, backlit by the dirty sunlight that filtered through the clouds. He was tall, wearing clothing that, despite being in neutral colors, was of obviously finer cut than anything she¡¯d seen in the slavers¡¯ possession. He carried a lightly curved sword in one white-knuckled fist, and his expression was grim. As he stepped into the firelight, she saw that one of his eyes had been stitched shut¡ªjust looking at it made Sam want to wince.


    The stranger¡¯s one eye rested on her, and he threw his coat back to sheathe his sword. ¡°Sam,¡± he said, features softening as he deflated with relief.


    Only when he spoke did Sam recognize him. ¡°Will,¡± she whispered. She tried to stand, and was yanked off her feet when her chain reached the end of its slack¡ªforgotten until it forcefully reminded her of its presence.


    Will was halfway over to her when the slaver stirred, resting one shoulder against the wall to support himself while he felt at a freely bleeding gash on his forehead with fumbling fingers. ¡°Wuh¡­?¡± he groaned.


    Will had a weapon in his hand less than a second later, a long-bladed knife this time. He strode across the room to the slaver, pulling his head back by his hair to expose his throat.


    ¡°W¡­ Wait!¡± Artie cried.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Sam echoed.


    Only the second utterance caused Will to pause. ¡°What?¡± he asked without looking back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t kill him.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. Do you usually need a reason not to kill someone?¡±


    ¡°In this place, you do.¡±


    ¡°He was nice to me.¡±


    With a growl, Will kicked Artie onto his back and whirled around to face Sam, spinning the knife between his fingers like it was some sort of nervous tic. ¡°Sam, you don¡¯t know everything that¡¯s going on yet, but trust me, this man has to die. If¡ªwhen¡ªhe tells someone about this, it will be very bad for both of us.¡±


    Holding onto her chain to make sure she wasn¡¯t running out of slack, Sam rose to her feet. ¡°You¡¯re not killing him,¡± she said, sounding more confident than she felt.


    She could hardly believe that this man she was looking at was the same shy, slightly nerdy kid she¡¯d known since she was little. It was like all the joy had been sucked out of him, and the cold figure that remained, staring her down with its one dark eye, scared the shit out of her.


    ¡°I-I won¡¯t tell anyone,¡± Artie blurted quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll say I don¡¯t remember, that the door hit me, and I¡­ I passed out! I don¡¯t remember a thing. Not a thing. You weren¡¯t here, Master One-Eye.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your input, friend,¡± Will said, his voice gone eerily calm. ¡°Now, if you¡¯d shut the fuck up for a moment, I¡¯d appreciate that very much.¡±


    ¡°Will,¡± Sam said, trying to bring his attention back around. ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t have a clue what¡¯s going on. But I know this man was kind to me when he didn¡¯t have to be, and if he says he won¡¯t tell anyone whatever you don¡¯t want people to know, I believe him.¡±


    Will regarded her for one long moment, whirling that knife around and around. ¡°Fine,¡± he growled at last. ¡°God, I forgot how stubborn you can be.¡±


    Sam''s reply was a sunny smile. It was the first thing he¡¯d said that sounded anything like his old self. She rattled the chain that connected her to a heavy bracket on the wall. ¡°Now, maybe you could do something about this? It doesn¡¯t quite go with my outfit.¡±


    Will reluctantly stowed his weapon.

 Chapter 10 - The Pros and Cons of Aggravated Murder

    Will


    Even wearing what Will would most charitably describe as a pair of empty potato sacks with holes cut into them, her boy-short hair sticking out in crazy directions, Sam still looked more beautiful than anything even his idyllic memories of her could compare to.


    She was taller than he remembered. Wider, too. More solid. Never the traditionally girly type, it was clear that she¡¯d kept up her psychotic dedication to exercise based on what he could make out of her long limbs, which were etched with lean muscle definition. Flat-chested and devoid of any excess fat, she didn¡¯t exactly fill out her potato sacks in any particular way, but he still found his eyes utterly glued to her.


    The steely determination in her eyes was the same as it always had been¡ªnot cruel or cynical, but simply an unshakable self-confidence. Despite being unable to look away, Will found that he wasn¡¯t quite able to meet her gaze, either. He had done so many things in this place to let her down; and even before, on Earth. If she knew how much blood stained his hands, maybe¡­


    Not now. Later.


    Sam gave the chain another firm tug. ¡°Well?¡±


    Will shrugged. ¡°Give it a try yourself. You might be surprised.¡± If he knew her right, she would have put a healthy number of points in Strength. Getting down on one knee, he opened his Inventory and caught his medicine bag as it was spat out of the small black void. He took out a small flask of brandy, then replaced the bag.


    As he stood, he raised the flask in Sam¡¯s direction. ¡°Something to soothe your nerves?¡± he asked, knowing she would refuse.


    ¡°You know I don¡¯t¡­ drink,¡± Sam grunted, looping the chain around her left arm as she reeled in the slack, pulling hard with little result except an unholy rattling and a dusting of brown rust flakes displaced from the metal links. ¡°Not that much has changed in five years, you know.¡±


    ¡°I thought my death might have driven you to the bottle,¡± Will joked.


    ¡°Har-dee-har. You wish, dude.¡± Reeling herself in all the way to the base of the chain, she hopped up to put her feet on either side of the metal bracket on the wall, pulling with her legs.


    After taking a sip of liquor himself, Will offered the bottle up to the two remaining people in the room, gauging interest. Seeing them both licking their lips for some liquid courage, he contemplated murder.


    If he Repelled weakly against the bottom of the bottle, it would break the seal placed there, allowing a small amount of poison to mix with the liquor. Certainly enough to kill two grown men, but it would be several minutes before it began to take effect, giving him and Sam more than enough time to be on their way before she noticed anything was amiss. He would have to shatter her innocence eventually, but that time wasn''t now.


    These men needed to die. He couldn¡¯t allow news of his involvement here to travel back to Brimstone. If the lord of Sheerhome found out about Sam and took an interest, or found reason to suspect Will¡¯s loyalties¡­ Needless to say, their charred corpses would be adorning his walls before long.


    With his left arm covered by his coat sleeve, they would not be able to see the AP he spent on the Repel. The poison was practically tasteless, especially when mixed with strong alcohol. The death it induced was painless, just drowsiness followed by eternal sleep. A more merciful fate than most in the Frontier got.


    But for some reason, when the slaver reached for the flask, Will hesitated. When he allowed the man to take it from his hand, he still had not cracked the poison seal, and he found himself blinking in confusion as he watched the man take a long pull of brandy, a trickle of reddish liquid escaping the corner of his mouth, then handing it to the bruised slave huddled in the corner, who glared suspiciously at Will before sipping at it himself.


    Stupid, Will admonished himself. How do I get rid of them quietly now? I could try to smear some contact poison on a glove and find a reason to touch them under the pretense of helping them get on their way, but the setup needed would almost certainly look suspicious. They saw me drink from the brandy, so they didn¡¯t suspect it, but I don¡¯t know if they would accept any ¡®medicine¡¯ I gave them. I suppose I could find an excuse to double back later and kill them when Sam isn¡¯t here to wag her finger at me, but they might have had time to be debriefed by then. Maybe even enough time for a runner to be sent to the city.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Of course, there¡¯s no way I could actually let them live. It¡¯s a shame. The slave hasn¡¯t done anything wrong, but he¡¯s seen just as much as his captor. I don¡¯t trust a promise of selective amnesia from these bastards past me turning my back to them, and the slave hasn¡¯t even given that much.


    It can¡¯t be helped. Fuck, why¡¯d I have to hesitate with the flask?


    Will was broken out of his deliberation by a groan of metal, the repeated plinking of bolts snapping, and a loud squawk as Sam flew clear of the wall, dragging chain, bracket, and a shower of splintered wood with her. She landed on her back, mouth wide in mute shock, staring at the loose chain wrapped around her arm.


    ¡°I¡¯m so strong!¡± Sam exclaimed. She looked up at Will. ¡°Did you see that?¡±


    ¡°I saw it,¡± Will replied indulgently, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth. ¡°How many points did you put in Strength?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I think it was six. No, eight! It was definitely eight.¡±


    ¡°No wonder you tore through that thing, then. Your noodle arm days are officially over¡ªenjoy.¡±


    Sam jumped easily to her feet. ¡°I never had noodle arms! Take that back!¡± The heavy metal bracket trailed on the floor, still attached to her. She frowned at it, then began tugging on her slave collar.


    ¡°Sir?¡± an uncertain voice called out, drawing Will¡¯s eye back onto the large, ponderous slaver, who was wringing his hands and keeping his gaze firmly directed at his own boot-tips. ¡°Master One-Eye, I mean. My name is Artie.¡±


    ¡°Great to meet you, Artie,¡± Will said with no small amount of sarcasm. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡­¡± The man swallowed. ¡°What happens now? Are you letting me live?¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± Sam replied confidently.


    Will sighed. Despite the general exhaustion weighing him down until he felt like a couple hundred pounds of spoiled bread dough, he was also developing a fun little migraine.


    Despite there being a hundred valid reasons why they could not be allowed to live, he just didn''t have the energy to grapple with the guilt of murdering someone at the moment.


    ¡°Whatever,¡± he said. "You can keep your neck. Now, needless to say, the rest of your squad are unlikely to be in a particularly forgiving mood when they find out that you''ve let a Laborer slip through your fingers. So for your own sake, I suggest you get out of here. Find another place to live. Never so much as think about Sheerhome again.¡±


    ¡°Sheerhome? Why, I¡¯ve never even been to Sheerhome!¡± Artie chuckled nervously.


    ¡°Attaboy.¡± Will gave the man a few good-natured claps on the shoulder, making him flinch with each one. ¡°Keep up that attitude. Because if I see you again, or discover that you''ve been making trouble for me, I will fucking cut you in half.¡±


    Sam laughed at the funny joke Will had made.


    Artie laughed hysterically in fear of his life.


    Will laughed without feeling any trace of amusement at all.


    After working at breaking her collar for a while without success, unable to find good purchase, Sam elbowed Will to get his attention. ¡°Get this open for me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll sort it out once we get someplace safer. You¡¯re stuck with it for now.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Ugh.¡±


    ¡°Stop whining.¡±


    ¡°Master One-Eye?¡± Artie cut in. He pointed to the slave sitting on the floor, who had barely moved a muscle throughout the entire exchange. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt, sir, but¡­ What about him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s your responsibility now,¡± Will said with a shrug.


    ¡°But he hates me.¡±


    ¡°Can you blame him?¡±


    ¡°No, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you will overcome your difficulties and find yourselves the best of friends in no time.¡±


    ¡°O-Of course.¡± Artie cleared his throat. ¡°Master One-Eye¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Okay. What do I call you?¡±


    ¡°Anything but that and ¡®Misfortune¡¯ is fine.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ sir?¡±


    Will rolled his single eye, and directed Sam to help break the other slave out of his confinement. ¡°Yeees, Artie?¡±


    ¡°Forgive me for saying so, but¡­ You¡¯re not doing this on behalf of the lord, are you?¡±


    ¡°Whatever made you think that? The fact that I¡¯ve damaged one of his watchtowers? The fact that I¡¯m freeing two of his slaves? Great detective work Artie, a truly inspired deduction.¡±


    ¡°You know¡­¡± Sam grunted, arms flexed and quivering with strain as she pulled on the second bracket, having already burst two out of four bolts. ¡°You¡¯d make more friends if you weren¡¯t so sarcastic with people all the time. It¡¯s not charming.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t mind,¡± Will replied dryly.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t,¡± Artie agreed, a little too quickly to sound sincere.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about him, Artie. He¡¯s a big softie once you get to know him.¡±


    The slaver eyed Will doubtfully, prodding his fresh wound. ¡°I¡­ see.¡± Then, after a moment¡¯s hesitation, he added: ¡°Miss.¡± He seemed unable to properly classify Sam''s position, given that she was interacting on seemingly equal ground with Will.


    ¡°I prefer Sam.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what he calls you,¡± Will said, ¡°because the two of them were just leaving. As are we.¡± He turned to Sam as she got the second bracket clear of the wall, stripped bolts bent at awkward angles coming off the square piece of metal. ¡°Right?¡±


    Sam gathered up the chain and bracket and awkwardly handed them over for to the slave to carry in his arms. ¡°I guess so,¡± she said. ¡°But why can¡¯t they come with us?¡±


    Will was done letting Sam talk him into nonsense. Without another word, he dragged her out of the room by the ragged collar of her sack shirt, soon had her stumbling down the steps of the rickety staircase that led down to the beachfront.


    ¡°Oh, uh, bye Artie!¡± she called up, getting a muffled, indistinguishable reply from above.


    Confirming that there were no other people within eyeshot with a quick pulse of Detect [Life], Will adjusted his hold on Sam so that he had a firm grip on her wrist instead. He took her north across the sands, then the grassy turf beyond, then under tree cover. The afternoon was starting to drag on, sun dropping. He hoped they would reach the farm before nightfall.

 Chapter 11 - A Romantic Walk Through the Evil Forest of Doom

    Sam


    Sam let herself be pulled along until they were walking among old, twisted trees, the waning sunlight further softened under a cover of twisted branches. She was still surprised by her new strength¡ªsomehow, she felt that if she wanted to, she could easily have resisted Will¡¯s efforts to move her. It was an intoxicating feeling. Despite the fact that Will had never been particularly athletic, he had always been stronger than her ever since they entered puberty. That was just the difference between boys and girls. She had long ago been forced to accept that no amount of training could change that simple biological fact.


    But now¡­


    Could the number ¡®8¡¯ on a silly sheet of paper really have changed so much?


    Despite all this, Sam pretended that she was helpless to resist, because she didn¡¯t mind Will showing his assertive side. If anything, it was making her stomach tingle with butterflies.


    Now that they were alone, an awkward silence descended between them that was only broken by the rustle of leaves above and the crunching of dead branches underfoot.


    After some time, she realized that Will¡¯s hand wasn¡¯t just clammy because he was nervous¡ªhe was breathing heavy, too, and his face had an unhealthy sheen of sweat. His step began to grow unsteady, and soon she was holding him up as much as he was leading her along.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Sam asked. ¡°Are you ill?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Will panted breathlessly, giving her a tired smile that might have been meant to look reassuring. ¡°Just a little tired, that¡¯s all. I was kind of in a rush to find you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem ¡®just a little tired¡¯ to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Sam. Really.¡± Reluctantly, he motioned for her to set him down against a nearly cube-shaped rock protruding from the ground. ¡°I just need a breather.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what people say in movies before they die, Will.¡± Her bunched-up chain clinked as she seated herself cross-legged in the undergrowth opposite him, letting the pile of heavy links pool in her lap.


    ¡°You are such a brat,¡± Will muttered.


    She stuck her tongue out at him.


    There was another silence. Sam fumbled for something to say, cleared her throat, made random percussive noises with her mouth. ¡°So¡­ What¡¯s up with your weird monster eye?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a long story.¡± Will scratched at his stitched-up eye somewhat sheepishly.


    ¡°And your finger!¡± She only noticed now that he was missing his left pinky.


    He let his hand drop, covering it with the other. ¡°Also a long story. Same one, really. I¡¯ll tell you about it later.¡±


    ¡°Does it hurt?¡±


    ¡°Later, Sam.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°Fine, geez.¡± She reached for something else to say, chuckled. ¡°You know it was really goofy when you told that guy you¡¯d cut him in half, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Goofy?¡± Will asked, frowning. ¡°I wasn¡¯t joking.¡±


    ¡°No one cuts anyone in half, Will. That¡¯s stupid.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been in the Frontier long enough if that¡¯s what you think.¡±


    ¡°Right, right. Of course.¡± She drummed her hands on her knees. ¡°How were you going to cut him in half, anyway? Logistically, I mean. Lengthwise? Across? Diagonal, even?¡±


    ¡°Use your imagination.¡±


    Sam rolled her eyes. What an edgy little nerd. Definitely not sexy, she reminded herself.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Just to be safe, she kept her eyes off his stubbled jawline. That was new. He hadn¡¯t been able to grow any facial hair more than a few pubey chin hairs last time she¡¯d seen him.


    Will leaned back against the rock, breathing heavy, a grating rasp in his throat when he inhaled. It made her shiver, reminding her of those last few months, the hospital bed, the tube shoved down his trachea to keep his lungs inflating when he got too weak to do it himself. Watching him slowly waste away. Sam squeezed her eyes shut to dispel the memory, but that only made it stand out stark against the backs of her eyelids.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for letting you go through that,¡± he said, looking up into the green canopy, his tired voice bringing her back to the present. ¡°I should have been faster.¡±


    Sam grinned. ¡°At least I¡¯ll be able to tick ¡®slavery¡¯ off the bucket list.¡±


    ¡°I just hope your new friends know how to keep their mouths shut. You don¡¯t know how precarious the situation is right now.¡±


    ¡°Why couldn¡¯t we take them with us?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust them not to gut us in our sleep. Besides, if you start picking up strays in this place, that¡¯s all you¡¯ll be doing for the rest of your life. I¡¯ve got enough as it is.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean I¡¯m not the first girl you¡¯ve fished out of the ocean?¡± Sam asked, the hardness in her voice only half-joking.


    Will chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªI reserved that honor just for you.¡±


    Sam watched Will attempt to get his breath back for some time, and began inching closer to him. Their knees were almost touching before she realized what she was doing, but by then it would have been too awkward to shuffle away again, so she endured the close proximity despite the fact that it made her cheeks flush. He smelled like sweat. It wasn¡¯t sexy at all.


    When he looked like he was about to slump over, she pushed him back against the rock again. ¡°Seriously, Will, what¡¯s wrong with you? This isn¡¯t just tired. You haven¡¯t¡­?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t gotten sick again,¡± Will replied, completing her thought. ¡°I pushed myself a bit too hard, that''s all.¡± He held out his left arm, and hiked up the sleeve to reveal a circular mark similar to her own, depicting a cauldron instead of a hammer. However, where Sam only had one crystal studding her arm, Will had¡­ she counted fourteen. A full line of ten going down almost to his wrist, and another that stopped short. A few of them shone with a soft blue glow, like Sam¡¯s did, but more than half of them were dark¡ªnearly black. He tapped one of the dull ones with a fingernail. ¡°These things are called AP crystals. You gain one with every level, so by counting how many another person has, you can tell what level they are.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re Level 14?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m Level 1?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±


    ¡°Is fourteen a lot?¡±


    Will gave a half-shrug. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to brag¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± She repressed the urge to punch him in the tit, fearing she might collapse his rib cage with her new strength.


    He smiled wanly. ¡°But yeah, fourteen is considered a lot. Most people plateau around, hmm¡­ Between five and seven, I¡¯d say. Anything over ten will start to get you some looks.¡±


    ¡°Right, right, I¡¯m very impressed. But we were talking about the reason you look like death caught the flu.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting there. These AP crystals aren¡¯t just decoration. They store energy¡ªenergy you can use to cast skills given to you by the Concord.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°When you use a lot of them, it puts a toll on your body. It¡¯s called skill fatigue. If you overdo it, it can build up enough to put you out of commission for a while. Even kill you, in very extreme cases.¡±


    ¡°And you overdid it?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, I was in a hurry.¡± He shrugged. ¡°And there was a lot of running involved.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ll be fine, right? You won¡¯t be coughing up a lung or anything?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I just need a minute before I can keep going. It¡¯s not much further to where we¡¯re headed.¡±


    Sam nodded. Despite the derisive smile she affected, she was relieved. ¡°So¡­ What¡¯s this place we¡¯re headed to?¡±


    ¡°I have a house.¡±


    ¡°Brag about it, why don¡¯t you.¡±


    Will¡¯s one eye fixed her with a hard look, but he eventually broke into a smile. ¡°You¡¯ll be meeting a few¡­ acquaintances of mine when we get there. They can be a little colorful, but they¡¯re fine, for the most part.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me you have friends? Now I know you¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°Such a brat,¡± Will muttered, but didn¡¯t challenge her further. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a paper packet, extracting a cigarette from it and pinching it between his lips.


    ¡°Oh yeah, that¡¯ll really help you catch your breath.¡±


    Ignoring her, Will struck a match and lit up his cigarette, giving it a few hard puffs before exhaling twin plumes through his nostrils with a grateful sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know,¡± he said, ¡°these are a herbal product of my own design. And no, it won¡¯t give me cancer¡ªthey¡¯re actually healthy for you.¡± He coughed and cleared his throat.  ¡°In moderation, anyway. Care to try?¡±


    Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m good, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Boring.¡±


    ¡°Dude, you¡¯re not going to peer-pressure me into smoking¡ªI¡¯m not thirteen years old.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I forgot how much you hate fun.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    They chuckled.


    Surprisingly, Will did seem perkier after a little influx of tar in his lungs. Standing up, he waved aside Sam¡¯s efforts to steady him. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving,¡± he said. ¡°Best not to get caught out here at night.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Sam asked.


    He offered her a lop-sided smile. ¡°There are worse things than slave traders in these parts.¡±


    That¡¯s not ominous.


    When Will started moving, Sam trotted along after. ¡°You know what way we¡¯re going, right?¡± It all looked the same to her.


    He didn¡¯t answer. Not cute at all.

 Chapter 12 - Meet the Cohabitating Acquaintances

    Sam


    ¡°Artie made it sound like Laborers are pretty sought after,¡± Sam said as she followed in Will¡¯s footsteps, keeping her eyes on the ground so she wouldn''t cut her bare feet on any sharp rocks or thorny underbrush.


    ¡°They are,¡± Will replied over his shoulder. And what shoulders they were. ¡°Laborer is the rarest Profession by a good margin. As you might imagine, there aren¡¯t exactly any decent census records in a place like this, but it¡¯s estimated that less than half a percent of lifers¡ªpeople reborn into the Frontier¡ªpick Laborer.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s rare¡ªwhy does that matter, though?¡±


    ¡°There are a few reasons. You level up based on your participation and personal achievement in the activity associated with your Profession. Laborer is the only Profession that can level up from pure physical exertion¡ªsuch as fighting, for instance. That makes them by far the best option for soldiers, guards, mercenaries, you name it.


    ¡°They also have several powerful abilities that help boost their performance in this role. Like the skill called Strike, which is technically the only pure offensive ability provided by the Concord, originally made for fighting off aggressive wildlife and such. High demand for Laborers combined with low supply means that local warlords are always jumping at the chance to recruit more of them.¡±


    ¡°Right. And what are you supposed to be, exactly?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Cook-Explorer synergist.¡± Looking over his shoulder, he grinned at the querying look on her face. ¡°That means I started out as a Cook, then branched into Explorer when I got the chance to specialize at Level 10, giving me access to abilities from both Professions.¡±


    ¡°Sounds complicated.¡±


    Will jumped over a root that stuck out of the earth like a bent knee. ¡°Only until you get the hang of it. Don¡¯t worry, this stuff will become second nature eventually.¡±


    Sure. I don¡¯t think this dream is going to last that long, but whatever.


    ¡°Artie said Explorers were bad,¡± Sam pointed out. ¡°Why¡¯d you pick that as your second option?¡±


    ¡°Well, our dear Artie was half right. Explorers actually get some really nice features, especially for traversal and navigation, but it¡¯s held back by the fact that you need to, well, explore to get anywhere with it. Traveling outside the walled cities isn¡¯t exactly conducive to a long life. It doesn¡¯t help that about a third of all lifers are Explorers. That¡¯s on account of the fact that most people don¡¯t have any idea what they¡¯re getting into when they have to pick their Profession, and ¡®Explorer¡¯ sounds a lot cooler than ¡®Physician¡¯ for example, meaning it¡¯s the opposite situation from Laborer¡ªhigh supply, low demand. Explorers are often consigned to drudgery in mines and sawmills and such, on account of the fact that as long as you keep them penned up in one place, you don¡¯t have to worry about them ever outleveling their captors and overthrowing them, meaning you have a constant supply of menial labor without much fuss.


    ¡°That being said, Explorer can be a nice branch-out pick for lifers who have already got enough levels under their belt that they can reasonably travel around a bit, given the fact that synergists can level up from the activity of the Profession they branch into, as well as the one they started with.¡±


    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± It sort of did. A little bit.


    The sky was beginning to purple when they abruptly stepped out of the woods and into a field of short grass with colorful bunches of wildflowers in blue and red and yellow.


    At the head of a shallow hill maybe a hundred feet in the distance, there stood a cluster of buildings with warm light shining out of several. Shifting silhouettes suggested people moving about within.


    Sam tensed up, fearing another run-in with some friendly neighborhood flesh dealers.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Will said, sounding tiredly triumphant. ¡°The farm. If there¡¯s anyplace in the Frontier where you can let your guard down, it¡¯s here.¡±


    Sam felt her muscles slowly unbunch as she followed Will up the gently sloping ground. They walked past stumps of trees cut down to clear more arable land, and several crop fields extending out to their right.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    A dark figure came pounding toward them from the buildings, moving with an odd, shambling, hunch-backed gait, and Sam¡¯s hackles immediately rose again. Whatever that was, it certainly did not look human.


    It took her brain several moments to process that it was, in fact, a chimp in human clothing¡ªan open-front vest adorned with wooden toggles and embroidered with the number ¡®1¡¯ at the breast.


    For some reason, Will did not appear alarmed, stopping and directing several unfamiliar hand signs at the chimp, who replied in kind with thick but surprisingly nimble fingers before knuckling on past the man, headed straight for Sam.


    She found herself unable to speak as the chimp stopped before her, its wide lips peeling back in a gummy grimace, showing yellow canines that would easily rend flesh.


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Sam stammered, holding her pile of chains protectively in front of her chest. ¡°Hello? Nice to meet you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Number One,¡± Will said, looking inordinately amused by her discomfort. The withering glare she shot his way did not seem to have any effect. The chimp made another round of signs with both hands, and Will added: ¡°He says it¡¯s nice to meet you, too. He wants you to bend down a little.¡±


    Reluctantly, Sam did as she was asked. The chimp¡ªNumber One¡ªreached up with one over-long arm and touched the collar around her neck with two fingers, signing with the other hand.


    At the chimp¡¯s touch, the solid metal confining Sam¡¯s neck suddenly came apart with a series of snapping sounds, little bits of iron tumbling over her shoulders and disappearing into the grass.


    Sam gaped. Letting the chain¡ªwhich was no longer attached to anything¡ªdrop to the ground with a hissing rattle, she felt at her neck with both hands, finding nothing except a bit of chafed skin to remind her that there had in fact been a collar there a moment prior.


    ¡°That skill is called ¡®Demolish¡¯,¡± Will explained. ¡°It destroys non-living matter. Convenient, right?¡±


    ¡°Convenient,¡± Sam agreed numbly.


    Number One gave her another frightening grimace. Smiling, she realized, feeling a little foolish. He was probably trying to put her at ease. ¡°Good monkey,¡± she said, and patted him on his graying, wispy-haired head.


    Smile widening, Number One offered out his hand, and Sam took it. The skin was rough and hard, feeling almost like grainy wood, but his grip was surprisingly gentle.


    ¡°He¡¯s a kind soul,¡± Will said as the chimp began leading them up the slope.


    ¡°I¡¯m noticing that.¡±


    ¡°The others can be a little rowdier.¡±


    ¡°The others? There¡¯s more than one chimp?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let that be a surprise.¡±


    Five. Not a minute later she had five clothed chimps gathered around her, chattering and hooting and making insistent hand signs both at her and each other, wrestling for space. Two of them were nursing cigarettes, and a third used the ember from one of his compatriots¡¯ rolls to light up one of his own.


    ¡°What are they saying?¡± Sam asked over the wave of simian commotion.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know,¡± Will replied, coughing into his fist.


    She frowned. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡±


    ¡°Will.¡±


    ¡°Look, there are no sexual harassment laws on the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. They¡¯ll keep their hands to themselves, I''m sure.¡±


    Suddenly, the chimps¡¯ grinning faces looked a lot sketchier than they had a few moments ago, especially with the cigarettes pinched between their lips. She could almost imagine them sitting outside a cafe somewhere, rudely catcalling at passing women. Dear god, where have I ended up?


    Muffled bleating from a stables to her left suggested that there were even more animals she hadn¡¯t seen. She just hoped the goats weren¡¯t wearing pants.


    ¡°Hey! Leave the poor thing alone, you brutes!¡± came a hoarse voice. Looking up, Sam saw a man standing on the raised wooden porch of the main farmhouse, leaning against a rough-hewn support pillar with his arms crossed over his chest. He was terribly ugly in a ¡®weird uncle¡¯ sort of way¡ªhalf bald, with the rest of his hair sticking out in a chaotic, greasy shock.


    At his command, the chimps reluctantly backed away, giving Sam some space. With a few more verbal prods, he eventually got them to disperse, three of them piling into a smaller building while the remaining two fetched shortbows and bristling quivers and ventured off into the woods.


    ¡°That¡¯s Matt,¡± Will explained, nodding toward the ugly fellow. ¡°He goes by Mongrel. Don¡¯t ever play cards with him. Or dice. Actually, just don¡¯t gamble with him at all. He¡¯s the worst sort of bastard in just about every way you could imagine.¡±


    Pushing himself off the pillar, Mongrel sketched out an exaggerated bow. His arms were seemingly too long for his body, hanging awkwardly down the sides of his body. ¡°Guilty as charged. And you must be the Samantha I¡¯ve heard so many wistful fireside tales about.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s meee,¡± Sam said with a smile and an awkward shuffle that she immediately regretted.


    ¡°You¡¯re prettier than I thought you¡¯d be.¡±


    ¡°Mongrel,¡± Will said in a warning tone.


    ¡°I just mean that I expected any woman desperate enough to get with this loser,¡± he pointed at Will with a scuffed boot, ¡°to be on the frumpier end of the bell curve. No offense, kid. And frankly, from what he told me about your wrestling days, I was expecting something more like a bear in a dress.¡±


    Will groaned softly.


    ¡°O-Oh,¡± Sam said, her face going hot. ¡°Um, we weren¡¯t actually, uh, together. We were just friends.¡±


    ¡°Good friends,¡± Will agreed.


    ¡°Right, of course,¡± Mongrel said, looking between the two of them with a smirk that was altogether too knowing. ¡°Well, now that I¡¯ve said my hellos, I think maybe I should give you good friends some privacy, eh?¡± With that, he spun dramatically on his heel and sauntered inside the house, his coarse laughter echoing out into the yard until the door swung shut behind him.


    And then it was just the two of them again, and it got quiet except for the scream of an unseen goat.


    Me too, goat, Sam thought, swallowing a lump of nerves. Me too.

 Chapter 13 - Meet the Cohabitating Acquaintances [2]

    Sam


    Will went inside the house and returned bearing a stack of folded clothes. Showing her out back, he stood on the patio and motioned to an unassuming metal pipe, about four inches in diameter, that rose straight up before swinging back a short distance around chest-height in a reverse U-shape. Beside it stood a rusted hand crank.


    ¡°Very impressive,¡± Sam said, only a little sarcastically. ¡°What am I looking at?¡±


    ¡°The shower.¡±


    Will chuckled at the doubtful glance she threw his way. ¡°No hot water, I¡¯m afraid, but it¡¯s clean, and that¡¯s more than most people have, so you should consider yourself lucky. I do recommend you make it a quick wash¡ªit will be freezing cold.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s lovely, Will, but I¡¯m exhausted and overwhelmed and hungry. Can¡¯t this wait until tomorrow?¡±


    Tomorrow? Will there be a tomorrow?


    ¡°I insist,¡± Will persisted. ¡°You might have been in the water for a while before you washed up, so you will want to clean any excess salt off your skin to avoid irritation. Also, you stink of the ocean.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying I smell bad?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you stink.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Sam snatched the clothes out of his hands. ¡°If you peek, I¡¯ll rip all your teeth out.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very specific threat.¡±


    ¡°I was feeling inspired.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t worry¡ªsince no one inside apparently had the idea, I¡¯ll be starting on dinner.¡± Will placed a block of grayish soap on top of the clothes. ¡°Take this as well. I made it myself.¡±


    Sam felt irrationally annoyed as she watched him walk away, disappearing into the house through a creaky back door. Sure, she had said she was hungry, and she had threatened to render him dentally challenged, but couldn¡¯t he have tried just a little harder to stick around? This was her dream, after all. So what if she maybe wanted him to see her naked? Or, at least, to know that he wanted to.


    Sam shook free of her thoughts, a dangerous flush creeping up her neck despite the onsetting evening chill. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stripped free of her sack-cloth attire and ran out into the yard to begin pumping the crank.


    She stood there cranking away like an idiot for what felt like minutes before water finally came out of the cut-off U-bend. A dribble at first¡ªeach droplet stabbing at her like an icicle as it fell on her chest¡ªthen a sputtering jet that had her howling like a wolf.


    Freezing was an understatement. The sea had felt warmer, somehow.


    Sam stayed under the water only long enough to lather herself up in lightly lavender-scented soap and rinse it all off again, awkwardly transitioning between rubbing herself down and working the crank whenever the flow began to lessen.


    Afterward, she tiptoed to the patio with her arms wrapped around herself; teeth chattering, skin stiff with gooseflesh. She could not get into her new clothes fast enough. They were drab but blissfully warm woolens¡ªa little tight on her, but otherwise all right, and infinitely less scratchy than the last set. The double set of knitted socks she had been given was very much appreciated.


    It took Sam a moment to realize why the clothes fit her so oddly in the first place.


    These are Will¡¯s clothes, aren¡¯t they? She found herself clutching the hem of the tunic and forced herself to release it.


    Wearing his clothes. Smelling like his soap. Maybe she had died and gone to heaven. She¡¯d never heard of a heaven with slave traders in it, but how could it be anything different, if it came with such grand gifts as this?


    Clean and clothed, Sam had to admit that her skin didn¡¯t feel quite so raw, and when she bundled the old clothes into her arms she thought they smelled fishy. Knocking on the door to be let in, she suddenly felt a low-grade worry buzzing in her stomach¡ªas though, despite everything, someone would open the door and tell her to go away.


    Then she felt stupid for knocking in the first place. Should I have just walked in? Am I being weird?


    It was Mongrel who opened the door. He squinted into the dark at her, scratching at the uneven stubble on his leathery jowls. ¡°Oh dear, did I miss my chance to catch a peek? A man takes one innocent little nap¡­¡± He sighed wistfully, then began frowning. ¡°Well? What are you doing standing there like a field mouse? And why¡¯d you knock in the first place? This isn¡¯t some fancy-schmancy hotel or anything.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Sam struggled to process the juxtaposition of lechery and friendliness delivered with equal casualness. ¡°I don¡¯t know?¡±


    Mongrel scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re a little strange, eh? I can see why Will likes you.¡± Leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered: ¡°He likes the crazy ones, you know.¡± When a beckoning motion didn¡¯t get her moving¡ªshe was still a bit stunned¡ªhe hauled her inside by the collar of her tunic, then hooked the door with a toe and pulled it shut. ¡°You were letting the bugs in,¡± he explained.


    Sam didn¡¯t care about that. Matching his surreptitious tone, she asked: ¡°Did he say that?¡±


    ¡°Say what?¡±


    ¡°That he likes me.¡±


    A crooked ear-to-ear grin split the older man¡¯s face in a display of bent, cracked, and yellowed teeth. ¡°Oh, he looo¡ª¡±


    Something whizzed past the tip of Mongrel¡¯s nose and he jerked back, pressing himself against the wall. Looking to her right, Sam found a slender knife embedded in the doorframe.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Enough of that,¡± Will said as he wandered into the room, his voice eerily calm. ¡°Mongrel, go back to sleep. Food won¡¯t be ready for another half-hour.¡±


    Recovering his grin in an instant, Mongrel scampered past Sam and made his way through the soft-furnitured room¡ªa living room, maybe?¡ªslipping through a doorway into the one Will had come out of.


    Sam wished he had been allowed to finish that sentence. With no one else to direct her frustration toward, she glared at Will. It was difficult to be angry with him, though, because he was wearing a pink cooking apron, and had a smudge of flour on his chin. The downturn of his stitched-shut eye, which gave him a permanently dour expression, made the whole thing appear more than a little comical.


    ¡°You like stew, don¡¯t you?¡± Will asked, leveling a used ladle toward her like a weapon.


    ¡°I-I do,¡± Sam admitted, immediately kicking herself for stuttering. Why couldn¡¯t she play this cool to save her life?


    Will nodded, lowering his culinary club. ¡°Good, because we¡¯re having beef stew. We only have meat on special nights, but I reckon tonight qualifies.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Fuck you, Sam! Say something smart! ¡°Uh¡­ Nice apron.¡±


    Will did not look down. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got something on your chin.¡± Before she realized what she was doing, she had crossed half the room to wipe it away for him. Except he had already gotten it with the back of his hand, and she was now just staring awkwardly at his one dark eye, her half-raised hands not quite wanting to come back down.


    ¡°How was the shower?¡± Will asked. Somehow, his closed eye seemed to be leering at her.


    ¡°Cold,¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°And now?¡±


    ¡°Better.¡± Shit. Would he have hugged me if I told him I was cold?


    She found that she had dropped her old clothes on the floor only when Will looked down at them, poking at the rough pile with his foot. ¡°Would you toss those outside for me? We¡¯ll burn them tomorrow. After that, please come through to the kitchen.¡±


    Will went away, and Sam was left gasping for no reason. Slowly, numbly, she moved to do as she had been instructed. But she paused in a halfway crouch, arms outstretched to pick up the old clothing¡ªnow that she had been left alone, she had a moment to take in the living room. It was dimly lit by a pair of lanterns hanging from opposite walls. There was a cold fireplace off to her left, surrounded by two padded armchairs and a circular coffee table. Three bookshelves lined the walls, quite well-stuffed, with less fortunate volumes lying scattered across the floor in several disordered piles. A grandfather clock of polished walnut, as tall as she was, ticked away in a corner. The time read 9:33.


    Despite a number of threadbare rugs, the room had precious little in the way of ornamentation, even the mantle standing empty. Those curtains were a dreadful puke-yellow, too. There could be no doubt that this was a man¡¯s den.


    This place could use a woman¡¯s touch, Sam thought dreamily. Interior decoration was never my strong suit, but I suppose if I have no choice¡­


    She bowled the bundle of sack-cloth through the back door and hurried down the hall Will had disappeared into. She would have been able to find her way to the kitchen even without directions, a mouth-watering scent of savory meats growing stronger as she neared it. Taking a left through the hallway, she entered a warm and brightly lit room where the food smell culminated in an explosion of scents she could almost taste on her tongue. Suddenly, her stomach was fist-fighting the inside of her ribs in its insistence to be filled.


    The kitchen was large. Its walls were white-washed and hung with dried herbs and black iron cookware and chains of hard-skinned sausages. A large square dining table of solid wood dominated the center of the room. Chairs surrounded it on three sides, with the quarter facing the back wall taken up by a white kitchen couch painted with floral patterns. Mongrel snoozed atop it, eyes hidden in the crook of his uplifted arm.


    Two fires burned on opposite ends of the room. A cooking fire on her right where Will labored over a large cauldron, taking a spoon to his fragrant creation for a tasting. Then, there was another fire on her left, a hearth that burned brightly for warmth. A figure lying in front of the fire blocked some of the light pooling from it, sending a dark shadow dancing over the floor in time with its shifting flames.


    Sam almost let her gaze slide past, then quickly found her attention firmly fixed on the figure by the hearth. Was that a woman? Yes, it was. Was she naked? Yes, she was. And was her skin¡­ oddly gray?


    ¡°Nyx?¡± Sam asked doubtfully.


    ¡°Oh, hello darling,¡± greeted the demon in her unmistakable sing-song drawl. She did not bother to look up from the fire, but did raise her hand in a lazy little wave, before letting it slap back down on her thigh. ¡°We¡¯ve all been waiting with bated breath for your arrival. I, for one, did not wager on you dashing your skull open against the rocks before reaching shore. Matthew owes me money.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s joking,¡± William said¡ªthough he didn¡¯t sound all that sure¡ªand Sam found him standing protectively by her side, again hefting that ladle like he intended to use it on somebody. ¡°Sam, Nyx¡ª¡± he shrugged, ¡°well, no need for introductions between the two of you. I take it you already know she¡¯s a demon?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Sam replied carefully, not taking her eyes off the well-curved taper of Nyx¡¯s back. ¡°Does she¡­ live here?¡±


    ¡°More like squatting,¡± Will replied with a sigh, sounding embarrassed. ¡°She¡¯s refusing to leave, and I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s nothing I can do to make her.¡±


    Sam glanced over, and was pleased to find that he was looking at her, not the demon¡¯s bare ass. ¡°Really? But you can make doors explode off hinges and stuff. Couldn¡¯t you at least, I dunno, make her wear some clothes?¡± Unless you prefer her naked, that is.


    She could not help a slight narrowing of her eyes, despite knowing that she really ought to hear him out before making any judgements. It¡¯s not like it concerns me anyway. We¡¯re just friends, after all. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s found plenty of girls¡ªor demons or whatever¡ªto smooch in the past five years. And good for him! There¡¯s no reason he shouldn¡¯t.


    But¡­


    But it¡¯s my dream, and I don¡¯t want my boyf¡ª my good friend making eyes at some trashy succubus who doesn¡¯t even have the common decency to wear some potato sacks to the dinner table.


    ¡°If only demons were so easily evicted,¡± Will sighed in response. Then, with a flourish of his wrist, he hurled the ladle across the room, sent spinning right at the back of the demon¡¯s head.


    Sam almost cried a warning out on pure reflex, despite her less-than-stellar opinion of the demon, but never got the chance as the cooking implement phased straight through her skull, as though she were suddenly made of smoke. It bounced first off the floor, then the wall, and Nyx caught it in her fist as it came flying back toward her.


    ¡°Optional corporeality,¡± Nyx said, placing her chin on her shoulder and looking back at Sam with mischief in her yellow eyes. ¡°Isn¡¯t it convenient?¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± Sam muttered through clenched teeth. ¡°So you just live here?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm,¡± Nyx purred. She turned back to studying the fire, wiggling slightly to find a more comfortable position.


    ¡°And you have something against clothes, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Whatever makes you say that? I love dressing up in cute little human outfits. It¡¯s all so quaint. I do prefer to be comfortable when I¡¯m at home, of course.¡± As if to illustrate, Nyx steepled one leg, and Sam was forced to quickly look away lest she expose herself to a potential cognitohazard.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± Will said with a dejected shrug. ¡°If there was anything I could do, she¡¯d be out on her ass, believe me.¡±


    ¡°I can hear you!¡± Nyx called.


    ¡°Good. Can I have my spoon back?¡±


    ¡°Only if you ask nicely, dear.¡±


    Will did not do that. Instead, he simply stomped over and yanked it out of her hand. She did not resist, but wore a look of unrestrained hunger as she watched him go, like a cat gearing up to pounce on a scurrying morsel. Except in Nyx¡¯s case, her hand hovered lazily, poised to smack his rump, before he passed out of range and she let it drop instead, releasing her disappointment with a disdainful yawn.


    ¡°And to think I was almost starting to like her,¡± Sam muttered under her breath. ¡°I see how it is now¡­¡±


    I won¡¯t lose to anyone, she urged herself; admonishing. Not in my own dream.


    It would be some time yet until dinner. Seating herself at the table to wait, she was caught between staring wistfully at Will¡¯s well-shaped back and glaring daggers into Nyx¡¯s nude one.

 Chapter 14 - Meet the Cohabitating Acquaintances [3]

    Will


    He had really hoped that Nyx would get bored and find someone else to exploit once she had fulfilled her bargain, but it seemed as though she was extracting great pleasure from tormenting him specifically, and not about to let up anytime soon.


    He did not even want to begin considering what Sam thought about the arrangement. Nothing good, surely. And who could blame her? To her, it must look like¡­ Except, of course he wasn¡¯t, only¡­ Then again, it wasn¡¯t like he and Sam were¡­ She was his friend, and he needed her, but that was it. Still, he didn¡¯t want her to come to the wrong conclusions about him.


    Feeling Sam staring holes in his back, Will focused on stirring the stew¡ªmore than was strictly necessary, really¡ªand resisted the urge to check over his shoulder. He was sweating profusely, and not just on account of the cooking fire, either.


    Sam had cleaned up a little too nicely for comfort, especially now that she was out of those terrible rags. Frighteningly enough, his hand-me-downs looked snug on her, despite the fact that he was neither short nor thin. She must have been eating about a cow a day since he¡¯d last seen her, considering how strong she looked. She¡¯d always wanted to be a superhero when they were kids, and now she certainly looked the part. Muscled and bright-faced, hair like burnished copper, a dusting of freckles across her nose. The very picture of innocence and strength crammed into one very solid package.


    She¡¯s exactly what the Frontier needs, Will mused, exceedingly pleased. I just need to get her to a decent level so I can start making use of her.


    He felt a sting of shame at thinking of her that way, like a pawn to be shuffled around on a board. But then, would it have been any better if he had murdered her and bundled her off to another world for his personal satisfaction? At least this way, he had an excuse. It was the world that needed her, not him.


    He did not sound convincing, even to himself.


    Will¡¯s stomach knotted harder, and he only barely stifled an anguished groan. He was not looking forward to the conversation he would need to have with her before the end of the night.


    At last the food was done, and Sam helped Will set the table, the two of them moving about each other in furtive silence as they placed down bowls and spoons and mugs and bottles. He hoped his face didn¡¯t look as flushed as it felt.


    Miraculously, Mongrel went from completely catatonic to sitting upright the moment the cauldron hit the table, like a saint rising out of his grave. He reached for the ladle, and Will slapped his hand away with a low hiss.


    ¡°I¡¯m not done yet,¡± he admonished, and held his hands out over the cauldron, palms down. Sam watched him curiously. ¡°Prepare,¡± he said, and the cauldron rattled as a ring of steam shot out the top and its contents simmered momentarily, then returned to placidity.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Will muttered, mentally kicking himself. ¡°I should¡¯ve had you taste it beforehand, so you could tell the difference. Oh, whatever.¡± He took Sam¡¯s bowl and began ladling stew into it, ignoring the reproachful look he got from Mongrel at the terrible injustice of not having been served first. ¡°Prepare is one of the Cook¡¯s signature skills. Very useful.¡± He put down her bowl in front of her, embarrassed that he had filled it nearly to the rim¡ªthough she did like her food, he remembered, and she would need to eat a lot while her body was integrating the influx of attribute points she had put into it. He did not know of another person who had allocated twenty at once before¡ªhe wondered if there were any dangers associated with that kind of leap.


    Sam cut herself a thick slice of bread and dolloped on a glob of salted butter, then took a bite of it along with a big, heaping spoonful of stew. She chewed forcefully, taking quick inhalations to cool it down some, swallowed, and had the spoon halfway to her mouth again before halting mid-motion.


    ¡°Woah,¡± she said. ¡°This is¡­ so good.¡± She smacked her lips thoughtfully, went for that second bite, and nodded with vigor. ¡°Fuck, what did you put in this? Nothing illegal, I hope.¡± She began elaborating further, but her speech soon became indiscernibly muffled by another mouthful of food.


    Will could not help but swell a little with smug pride. ¡°Prepare is a skill that heightens any edible it¡¯s used on to its extremes. Use it on something tasty, and it becomes tastier. Use it on something gross, though, and you¡¯ll only make it more gross. So only a Cook that can, well, actually cook can put Prepare to good use.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± Mongrel muttered, having served himself a portion and begun slurping it down, ¡°but no one likes a braggart.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Of course, our local Farmer-Builder Mongrel makes all the produce¡ªthe high-quality ingredients he provides are equally important for elevating the home cooking around here.¡±


    ¡°Really damn good, as I said,¡± Mongrel corrected himself, puffed up like a rooster.


    ¡°Although,¡± Will amended, ¡°maybe I should give the credit to the boys, since they do all the work. Mongrel mostly sits on his ass all day.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®delegating¡¯, son,¡± Mongrel said with an indignant sniff. ¡°If anything, I have the toughest job around here, since I have to wrangle the whoresons. It¡¯s not an easy job, I tell you.¡± He wagged a knobbly finger. ¡°But, well, someone¡¯s gotta make sure this place keeps running.¡± He gave a weary, put-upon sigh, then comforted himself with another few mouthfuls of stew.


    ¡°Where are the little devils, anyway?¡± Sam asked. ¡°Won¡¯t they be hungry, too?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯ve got their own hut to themselves. They¡¯ve been given their supper already, so I reckon they¡¯re enjoying their mid-evening smoke session. Ah, but Number One and Number Two are keeping watch over the farm, making sure nothing goes bump in the night. They all take turns.¡±


    ¡°Does that kind of thing happen a lot? Bad things, I mean.¡±


    Will cleared his throat. ¡°Let¡¯s just say most people choose to live inside city walls for a reason.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Does that frighten you?¡±


    Sam grinned at that, and her eyes shone like feverish blue flames. ¡°What a silly thing to say!¡±


    ¡°Well, I understand your incredible talent for diving headfirst into trouble hasn¡¯t lessened any, but it might be healthy for you to cultivate some sort of self-preservation skills.¡±


    ¡°So I don¡¯t go and get myself murdered or something like that, you mean?¡± she asked, still smiling.


    Will nearly swallowed his food the wrong way, cleared his throat noisily. ¡°Ah¡­ yes. Something like that, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Will. I can take care of myself.¡±


    It seemed an insane statement to deliver with such utter confidence in a place like the Forlorn Frontier, but Will found that he believed her. Sam¡¯s talent for tangling herself up in every mess she came across was no joke, but she was equally adept at smashing her way out of them again.


    The way he saw it, the only reason she could charge through problems like she did was because she was too bull-headed to realize that she should be the one getting knocked down. Those kinds of thoughts just didn¡¯t enter her head. He wasn¡¯t sure what actually did go on in there, aside from¡­ thinking about her next workout, or something. He had never quite shared her enthusiasm for picking things up only to put them back down again.


    Nyx eventually came and joined them at the table, curling up cross-legged beside Mongrel on the kitchen couch. Will had made a point of not setting out a bowl for her, but she had taken the liberty of fetching one from the cupboard anyway. She took a helping of stew and two slices of bread besides, and drained two mugs of beer before pouring herself a third, burping against the back of her hand. Will ground his teeth, nurturing a cold resentment in the pit of his stomach. Demons did not need human sustenance to survive, but Nyx insisted on eating more than her share anyway. One day, he was going to find out how to hurt her kind, and when he did, he would wring her neck into knots.


    Mongrel made no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at her breasts, the bowl-to-mouth back-and-forth of his spoon slowing to a crawl while he studied her naked form, humming appreciatively like an art critic admiring a sublime piece of art.


    Nyx soon took notice of it, and tucked her arms back and thrust out her chest to give him a better look. ¡°See something you like, Matthew?¡± she cooed.


    Mongrel opened his mouth to reply, but Will cut him off. ¡°Mongrel,¡± he growled warningly.


    ¡°Looking is nice, but touching is even nicer,¡± Nyx continued, undeterred, without looking in Will¡¯s direction. She moved an inch closer to the ugly man. ¡°Go on, Matthew. I won¡¯t charge much for the privilege.¡±


    Mongrel looked down at his hands like a man at war with himself, the¡ªvery small, no doubt¡ªrational part of him trying hard to wrestle back his pathetically overdeveloped libido.


    ¡°Mongrel, you know what we agreed,¡± Will said sternly, trying to nudge his friend¡ªbecause that was, sadly, what he was¡ªback to sanity. However much of that Mongrel had ever been in possession of. ¡°No one makes any more deals with the demon. None.¡±


    Mongrel bristled, tucking his chin down against his chest. ¡°I know that,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I wasn¡¯t considering it or anything.¡±


    ¡°Of course not, Matthew,¡± Nyx agreed, sounding entirely too amused. ¡°I was just teasing.¡± She scratched him behind the ear with one long fingernail, and Mongrel swallowed hard while he tried¡ªand failed¡ªnot to appear affected.


    For some reason, Sam looked rather pleased about all this, nodding to herself with a secret little smirk before digging into her food with renewed vigor, heaping herself another portion that was barely any smaller than the first one he had given her. She really was hungry.


    She had forced down three full portions by the time she finally called it quits so he could begin cleaning up, and if he didn¡¯t know any better he would have thought she was looking around for dessert, the greedy guts. She patted her belly contentedly, and Nyx echoed the gesture. Sam shared a reluctant laugh with the demoness, and Will shook his head as he worked on scrubbing the cauldron clean. Despite her better judgment, she seemed to make friends with everyone she met sooner or later.


    Then the cleaning was done, and the bowls were dried and put away, the mugs left out so people could nurse a drink throughout the night. And suddenly there was nothing else for Will to busy himself with, and he knew that he couldn¡¯t keep putting off what he wanted to put off more than anything in the world.


    ¡°Sam,¡± he said, almost scaring himself with how serious he sounded. His breath hitched when she smiled up at him from her seat, and he had to take a moment to still himself. ¡°Would you mind if we speak in private for a minute? There¡¯s something important I need to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± she replied quickly, running a hand through her short hair. ¡°What do you wanna talk about?¡±


    ¡°Would you go and wait on the front porch for me?¡± he asked, blowing past her question. ¡°I¡¯m just going to fetch some things¡ªI¡¯ll be with you in a minute.¡±


    ¡°All right.¡± She sounded a little more hesitant now, but she was already standing up, chair scraping on the floor. ¡°Just don¡¯t keep me waiting, tough guy.¡±

 Chapter 15 - That Awkward Moment When...

    Sam


    Will hurried off into another part of the house, and Sam was left frowning after him. What thing was he getting? Was it something romantic?


    Why would it be something romantic, stupid?


    Well, why not? It¡¯s my dream, so I get to make unreasonable requests.


    Sam went and sat on the front porch like she was asked. The cool breeze on her face helped still her nerves a little.  She leaned back on her arms as she gazed up at a night sky filled with an explosion of stars tinged pink and blue. The clouds had cleared away during the evening, leaving what felt like the whole universe on show just for her


    Sam was not used to seeing so many stars back home, with the light pollution and all. Getting to look up at them now, listening to the background hum of insects in the night air, a strange serenity descended over her like a warm blanket. She could have sat for hours taking it in.


    Her calm was shattered when something heavy landed next to her with a thump, making her start. A leather backpack, she realized, stuffed to the brim so that it bulged out, almost round. Will plopped down on the other side of it, rubbing at his always-sleeping eye.


    ¡°Say what you want about the Frontier, but it sure is pretty sometimes,¡± he murmured. Sam did not need to follow his upturned gaze to know what he was talking about.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she agreed, though she wasn¡¯t really paying so much attention to the stars anymore. ¡°What¡¯s with the bag?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s for you, depending on how this conversation goes.¡±


    Sam felt a cold lump in her stomach. ¡°It¡¯s one of those talks, huh?¡± She supposed she had expected it, but she still wished they could just enjoy a perfect night together. She deserved that, didn¡¯t she?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you know,¡± Will said, speaking slowly as though choosing each word carefully. ¡°But you should know that I¡¯m responsible for¡ª¡±


    ¡°For talking Nyx into killing me?¡± Sam completed. ¡°Yeah, I know.¡±


    He shot her a rueful smile; his face shadowed, lit only by ambient starlight and the narrow bands of gold slipping through the shutters behind them. ¡°She spilled the beans, then?¡±


    Sam shrugged. ¡°Not really. It wasn¡¯t that hard a mystery to solve.¡±


    Will nodded. ¡°I suppose not. Well, I won¡¯t make any excuses. I set this whole thing in motion, sent Nyx to kill you and bring you here, and now there¡¯s no going back. Whatever my reasons were, you have every right to hate me. If you decide you don¡¯t want to see me again, there''s enough money in that pack, along with other supplies, for you to live comfortably for a while.


    ¡°If you want to stay, there¡¯s a place for you here on the farm. Since no one else seems willing to take on the responsibility, I have decided I will save the Frontier, maybe even make it a decent place to live if I can.¡± He paused, looking pointedly away from her. ¡°And I don¡¯t think I can do it without you.¡±


    Sam studied Will for a moment, then opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. ¡°Before you give me your answer, I want to say one more thing.¡± He sighed, putting his head in his hands, voice coming out a little muffled as he went on. ¡°This isn¡¯t how this was supposed to go. I had it all planned out, you know.¡±


    ¡°You always did like your plans.¡±


    ¡°I love ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°Yes, except things never seem to pan out according to the perfect little schemes you cook up in your head.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Will asked, askance. He was looking at her now, the white of his one eye standing out brighter than the rest of his shadowed form. ¡°No, you misheard me. I said I love you.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I love you, Sam.¡±


    She somehow felt hot and cold all at once, elemental forces rushing through her body to leave her a jittery mess. ¡°What?¡± she repeated. It seemed to be the only word her mouth remembered how to make.


    Will frowned. ¡°Are you fucking with me, or just deaf? I love you. I¡¯ve loved you since forever. Whatever happens next, I want you to know that.¡±


    Sam¡¯s mouth opened and closed like a fish on land, trying to make sound come out. ¡°Uh¡­¡± she stammered intelligently.


    ¡°I would have told you sooner, but I was too much of a coward at first, and it didn¡¯t seem right to put that on you after I got sick.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Sam had wished for romantic. Now that she¡¯d actually gotten it, it still managed to take her by complete surprise.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not expecting an answer from you or anything¡ªI just wanted to get it off my chest. If you tell me what you want to do moving forward, whether it involves staying or leaving, I¡¯ll help you make it work.¡±


    Sam stood abruptly, not quite knowing what she was doing even as her body moved. With a firm kick, she punted the backpack off the porch.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Will called, watching as the overstuffed thing rolled off into the darkness. ¡°There¡¯s delicates¡ª¡±


    With nothing separating them now, Sam jumped on top of him, and he let out a soft yelp as his back hit the wood. Pressing her face tight to his chest, she wrapped all her limbs around him to squeeze him in the biggest hug she could physically make.


    ¡°Ow¡­¡± Will groaned.


    ¡°I love you too,¡± Sam whispered.


    ¡°Seriously, ow.¡±


    Sam squeezed him harder until his next complaint came out as an indecipherable, breathy gasp. ¡°You¡¯re so dumb.¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°Sam¡­¡± Will finally choked out, tapping her shoulder.


    She let up a little, and he sucked in a hard, shuddering breath. ¡°Fuck me,¡± he groaned. ¡°You never figured out how to give normal hugs, did you?¡±


    Sam peeled herself off his chest to grin down at him. ¡°I like the sound of that first part.¡±


    She could not see him blushing in the dark, but the extended pause implied it. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too much for you? Oh, boo-hoo. Five years is more than enough foreplay for me, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°No, I just¡­ didn¡¯t think you felt that way.¡±


    ¡°Well, I do. I love you so much I wanna crush you into a little meatball and carry you around in my pocket.¡± She leaned in close so she could whisper in his ear: ¡°You made the mistake of bringing me here, and now you¡¯re never getting rid of me.¡± I wish.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    She felt his chest shift as he swallowed.


    ¡°I forgive you for murdering me, by the way.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very gracious of you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sort of wondering about something, though.¡± She released him, hoisting herself onto her haunches so he could sit up. He worked his shoulders dramatically, huffing and puffing as though he had been the victim of some terrible act. ¡°Nyx was talking about payment¡ªthat you had to give up a lot to get me here. What did she mean, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    ¡°Your eye has something to do with it, right?¡±


    At the mention of it, Will began to scratch at his bad eye. ¡°Yes,¡± he admitted. ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it sounds, though.¡±


    ¡°What about your finger?¡± She took his left hand, prying the fingers apart so she could get a look at the pale nub where his pinky should have been. ¡°Is that related, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°The demon took them as payment.¡±


    A nod.


    ¡°Did she take anything else from you?¡± Sam hardly recognized her own voice, with how eerily calm she sounded.


    ¡°Look, Sam¡ª¡±


    ¡°What did she take?¡±


    Will sighed. ¡°You have to understand, there¡¯s a reason why shuttling someone from Earth to the Frontier the way I did is almost unheard of. It¡¯s a multi-step operation, and it requires bribing not just one, but at least two demons, since the Tower custodian must also be convinced to look the other way for a non-sanctioned arrival, not to mention ensuring that you would appear at the right location in the Frontier for me to pick you up.¡±


    ¡°I got dropped in the ocean right next to a band of slavers.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, that was the best possible alternative.¡±


    She clutched his hand tightly in both of hers. ¡°What did they take from you, Will?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°An eye, like you guessed. The finger,¡± he wiggled his nub against her palm. ¡°A kidney. Three ribs. And¡­¡±


    Sam¡¯s lips pressed together tighter and tighter with every word he spoke. ¡°And?¡± she asked.


    ¡°And a testicle,¡± he concluded, somewhat sheepishly.


    ¡°Let me see if I¡¯ve got this right. The demons yanked an eye, a finger, a kidney, three ribs, and one of your balls right out of your body?¡±


    ¡°More or less. Nyx was the one doing all the yanking, though. I suppose she handed Unger his cut after. There¡¯s no way for a human to re-enter the Tower once they have passed through it, just as there is no way for the custodian to leave his post.¡±


    ¡°Will, I don¡¯t give a shit about the logistics,¡± Sam growled. Standing up, she made for the front door. ¡°Oh, I am so going to snap that whore¡¯s neck.¡±


    ¡°Sam! Sam! Sam!¡± Will caught her by the wrist, trying to hold her back.


    She frowned at his grip, still not used to the sensation that she could easily pull free if she wanted. But she stayed put. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re angry on my account¡ªreally, I am. All things considered, though, Nyx let me off a lot easier than she could have. With what I was asking for, she could have demanded a limb or two, maybe more than that, but she made do with parts that wouldn¡¯t reduce my function too much. Most demons would have refused the deal outright¡ªin this whole plan, Nyx is probably the one who was facing the most risk.


    ¡°From what I¡¯ve gathered, humans can¡¯t travel back up the Crossroads at all, and demons do so only with great difficulty. Even then, they¡¯re not supposed to. There are¡­ things, apparently, that patrol the Crossroads, punishing anyone who tries to interfere with the natural order of death and rebirth.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re taking her side in this?¡±


    ¡°I know how it sounds. I don¡¯t like having her bumming around the house either, but, well, all things considered¡­ she¡¯s done right by us. Truly. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s all part of some bigger ploy or whatever, but for the time being I¡¯m happy to let her scheme however she likes, rather than giving myself a headache by figuring out the thoughts and motives of a demon. And, again, it¡¯s not like we can do anything about her anyway, other than piss her off. In case I have to spell it out, we really don¡¯t need an infernal blood feud.¡±


    Will¡¯s one eye shone with such earnestness that Sam could not stay angry. She heaved a great sigh, and gently peeled Will¡¯s hand away before sitting back down next to him. This time, without a backpack to act as a barrier, she slid up against him until their shoulders touched. ¡°Oh, all right,¡± she said, cracking a reluctant smile. ¡°Whatever you say, Master One-Eye.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± Will muttered darkly.


    Sam snickered. ¡°Why? I think it¡¯s cute.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s really too bad then, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    They sat there a while longer, enjoying the stars. Sam put her head on Will¡¯s shoulder, felt the slow rhythm of his breathing. However strange this dream had been, she wished it would never end.


    ¡°What did she do with all your junk, anyway?¡± she eventually asked.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t care about the logistics,¡± Will murmured. Slowly, almost furtively, he reached up behind her back to begin stroking her hair. She couldn¡¯t remember him ever doing that before¡ªit wasn¡¯t the sort of thing that friends, even good ones, usually did to each other. It was wonderful.


    Sam stifled a yawn against the back of her hand. ¡°I don¡¯t. But, well, I might be a little curious.¡±


    ¡°She ate them.¡±


    Her eyes, which had been slowly drifting closed, suddenly came open again. ¡°Wait, she ate your ballsack?¡±


    ¡°Only one testicle,¡± Will corrected with a significant air. ¡°And the pouch was not included, thank you very much.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡ªhalf your ballsack, whatever. That¡¯s still obscene.¡±


    ¡°Jealous?¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little. Not that I want to eat your balls, but I certainly don¡¯t want someone else to be eating them, either.¡±


    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, it was about as sexual as a rectal exam.¡±


    Sam snorted a laugh, and snuggled more firmly up against him. ¡°Any other¡­ testicular encounters you¡¯d like to reveal?¡±


    ¡°All the pretty Frontier girls I¡¯ve kissed, you mean?¡±


    ¡°So more than one?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes.¡±


    ¡°Are you making fun of me?¡±


    Will chuckled. ¡°Honestly, there¡¯s never been anyone. I guess I never really got over you. Well, there¡¯s no doubt that¡¯s the case, considering that you¡¯re sitting here now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the cutest fucking thing I¡¯ve ever heard. You saved your virginity for me!¡±


    ¡°When you say it like that, it just sounds sad.¡±


    ¡°I guess we can be sad together, then.¡± She smiled brightly at him.


    ¡°No testicular encounters for you, either?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m as pure as they come, baby.¡±


    ¡°Lucky me.¡±


    Not long after, Will announced that he was tired, and said that they could both use some rest since they had an early start tomorrow. Sam wanted to protest¡ªsleeping was the one thing she didn¡¯t want to do¡ªbut she couldn¡¯t think up a good enough excuse, and then it was too late, and they were back inside the house, and he was showing her the sleeping arrangements.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a guest room all made up for you,¡± he explained, ushering her through a door on the far right side of a short hallway. The room was fairly spacious, with all the basic furniture you¡¯d need and clean sheets and the same ugly puke-colored curtains that hung elsewhere in the house. ¡°Although, I suppose it¡¯s not really a guest room anymore since you¡¯re going to be living here. There are extra clothes in the wardrobe, but we¡¯ll have to buy you some proper ones soon.¡±


    Sam frowned at it all while listening to him ramble. ¡°So where are you going to sleep?¡±


    ¡°In my room. Why?¡±


    ¡°Show it to me.¡±


    Will¡¯s room was across the hall; identically sized, although it looked smaller because of all the clutter. The bed had not been made, blankets thrown in a pile off to one end, and the mattress was dimpled in the middle from wear. Additionally, there was only one pillow.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Sam said, nodding to herself. ¡°This will do.¡±


    ¡°You want to stay in the same room?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble.¡±


    ¡°I mean, the bed¡¯s pretty narrow, and you¡¯re¡­¡± He made an airy gesture in her direction. ¡°Uh, not exactly dainty.¡±


    She raised a questioning eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest. ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m fat?¡±


    ¡°No. You are a somewhat terrifying hugger, though.¡±


    ¡°Enthusiastic.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°Regardless, it¡¯s a tight squeeze. Are you sure you wouldn¡¯t prefer¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, and I insist.¡±


    Will looked like he was reevaluating some of his life choices, but eventually shrugged. ¡°All right, have it your way. But if you start hogging the blankets in your sleep, I¡¯ll Repel you through the nearest wall.¡±


    ¡°Threats only work when the one you¡¯re threatening understands what you¡¯re talking about, you know.¡±


    Will brought an extra blanket and pillow into the room, and Sam said goodnight to Mongrel¡ªpointedly ignoring Nyx¡ªbefore she and Will began preparing for bed. There were no toothbrushes, apparently, but he gave her a pot of charcoal paste that he instructed her to rub over her teeth. It tasted like¡­ well, charcoal.


    Then, suddenly, they were stripping out of their clothes. Will, the poor thing, insisted that they have their backs turned to each other, even though they had already seen each other naked¡ªor near enough¡ªso many times that there was really nothing dramatic about it at this point.


    Once she overcame the initial shock, Sam found that she seemed to be handling their newfound intimacy with a bit more aplomb than he did. It was only a dream, of course, which meant that there were no consequences, which meant that there was no reason for her to feel embarrassed.


    Down to their underclothes, she caught a glimpse of Will¡¯s bare torso before he turned out the last of the candles. So many scars¡­


    Sam found that they suited him wonderfully.


    Then they were under the blankets together in the dark, facing each other, wrestling for space on the narrow bed, and it somehow felt like one of the thousand sleepovers they¡¯d had growing up.


    ¡°Will?¡± Sam whispered, searching out his face in the blackness, feeling his stubbled jaw.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Will asked, voice thick as he completed a yawn.


    She quickly leaned forward to kiss him on the lips, hard and stiff and not particularly romantic, then jerked back again. Until that very second, she¡¯d had some half-formed plan of jumping his bones, but even a simple kiss was enough to make her all hot and light-headed.


    ¡°I love you,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Go to sleep,¡± Will admonished.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    Will was soon unresponsive, but Sam lay awake, nestled close to him, putting her ear up to his chest so she could listen to the slow rhythm of his breathing.


    I don¡¯t want to fall asleep, she thought. Not yet. Just a little longer.


    But his warmth was already lulling her to sleep, and despite her best efforts, her eyes began to drift shut.

 Chapter 16 - Waking Up Dead

    Will


    Waking up sometime after dawn, Will found that most of the skill fatigue he had accrued yesterday was gone, leaving him only a little sore. With Sam having thrown a beefy arm over his neck and a thick leg around his waist, Will had to wrestle his way out of bed, swearing under his breath. Sam did not stir through this, merely flopping over on her back when she lost her hold on Will and rubbing her abs in her sleep. His ear hurt from enduring her snoring into it all night.


    They had a lot to do that day, but he was not about to wake her. He guessed that she could use all the rest she could get. Although, he couldn¡¯t help but stand there and watch her for a while, tied up as she was in a complex tangle of her own blankets like a badly wrapped present. She had somehow slipped her undershirt off in her sleep and discarded it next to the bed, leaving her quite naked from the waist up. Keeping his eyes clear of her flat chest¡ªaside from a few innocent glances¡ªhe yanked a corner of bedclothes out of her balled fist to restore her dignity with.


    She was so very beautiful. And she was smiling, even in her sleep. He had always loved her smile.


    Will could still not quite believe that his plan really had worked, and she was really here, right in front of him. Given the way things always went in this fucked-up place, something should have gone wrong. Oh, a few little things had, he supposed, but all in all, it had gone as well as he could ever have hoped. And she didn¡¯t hate him, which was a plus. And she¡¯d kissed him last night, at the end there. She had kissed him, hadn¡¯t she? He hadn¡¯t imagined that part, right?


    Now I just have to figure out a way to tell her about her dad.


    Tearing himself away so he didn¡¯t end up staring all day, Will got dressed and left his room, crossing over into the kitchen. Number Five was just coming in the front door bearing a wicker basket of freshly gathered produce¡ªeggs from the chicken coop, tomatoes and lettuce from the vegetable garden, and various herbs from Will¡¯s own little plot.


    He took the basket off the chimp¡¯s hands. Number Five smiled broadly and held out a leathery hand, expectant. ¡®Been good?¡¯ he signed with his free hand. ¡®Now reward?¡¯


    Will sighed, digging through his pockets until he found a half-full packet of happy puffs, tapped two of them out into the chimp¡¯s upturned palm. When Number Five began to scamper off, Will called after him: ¡°Hey! Is your dad still asleep?¡±


    ¡®Washing,¡¯ Number Five replied over his shoulder.


    ¡°Ah. He¡¯s bound for the city today, then.¡± Mongrel only cleaned up when he planned on going whoring. Why he was only able to summon any propriety for ladies of the night, Will had no idea, but anything that got the odd little man acting¡ªand smelling¡ªlike a somewhat normal human being for a while had his full support. If anything, Will wished he¡¯d go more often.


    Assuming that Sam would be hungry when she woke up, he tied on his apron and busied himself with making breakfast. He cooked an omelet with a dozen eggs that would hopefully be enough for everyone, then chopped a salad with lettuce, chopped tomatoes, herbs, a bit of oil, and goat cheese. Lastly, he fried up a pan of sausages.


    Perhaps drawn by the smell of cooking, Sam soon shuffled into the kitchen, struggling to get her head through an unlaced tunic. Not one of the ones he had given her, Will noticed, but the one he had worn yesterday.


    Sam took a seat at the table, sleepy-eyed and yawning until her jaws creaked. ¡°I¡¯m all achy,¡± she complained, rubbing at one shoulder. ¡°It feels like someone beat me with a rolling pin.¡±


    ¡°Might be growing pains,¡± Will guessed. ¡°You just slotted in a lot of attribute points¡ªit¡¯s going to take a while for it to integrate fully with your body.¡±


    ¡°Riiight,¡± Sam grumbled absently.


    ¡°Hungry?¡±


    ¡°Extremely.¡±


    Will cast Prepare in triplicate to complete his work, plated up a big portion for Sam, then a more modest one for himself, and finally poured two glasses of cranberry juice before taking a seat opposite her.


    Sam began eating mechanically the moment ceramic hit the table, one hand wielding a fork while she rubbed the back of her head with the other. For some reason she looked concerned, and she frowned more deeply with every bite.


    ¡°No good?¡± Will asked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say, I uh¡­ don¡¯t remember all your favorite foods anymore. That¡¯s not my fault, though. It¡¯s a long story.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s really delicious,¡± Sam mumbled through a bite of salad, pausing to force some sausage into her mouth so that her cheeks bulged. After swallowing, she added: ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d still be here.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Okay, let me ask you a hypothetical¡ªwhat happens when you fall asleep in a dream?¡±


    It was Will¡¯s turn to frown. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I¡¯ve ever been asleep in a dream.¡±


    ¡°Right! When you fall asleep in a dream, you¡¯re supposed to wake up!¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Maybe? I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a universal thing, though.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Sam chewed thoughtfully. ¡°Then you think I¡¯m still asleep?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You know¡­¡±


    ¡°I really don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Like how this is all a dream and stuff. I mean, it¡¯s got to be, right?¡±


    Will let his head fall into his hands. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯ve been thinking this whole time?¡±


    ¡°I mean, kind of?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not dreaming, Sam. You really did die, and you really did end up in this hellhole.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what the dream version of you would say.¡±


    ¡°Sam¡­ Seriously.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being serious!¡± Sam whined, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.


    ¡°Wait right there,¡± Will said with a sigh, ignoring Sam¡¯s questioning look as he got up and left the room.


    By the time Will had been to his bedroom and back, she had cleaned off her plate and had stolen half of his sausage, chewing idly on the end of it. He placed a hand mirror down on the table between them and pointed at it. ¡°There,¡± he said. ¡°Look at that.¡±


    Sam wiped greasy hands on her clothes¡ªhis clothes, damn her!¡ªand picked up the mirror, looking into it. ¡°Yes?¡± she said. ¡°What am I supposed to be seeing?¡±


    ¡°Can you see yourself?¡± Will asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And do you look normal?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes.¡±


    ¡°There you go, then. I¡¯m no expert on dreams, but I know you can¡¯t see your own reflection in a dream, or at least it won¡¯t show up right. There are other tests we can do if you¡¯re still feeling stubborn, but in short, you are not dreaming.¡± Then, after a moment, he added: ¡°Stupid,¡± before finally digging into his own food. What was left of it.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Sam asked, moving her face closer to the sheet of silvered glass until she was almost bumping noses with her mirror self. ¡°I¡¯m not dreaming?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been saying.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Sam, do you really think your brain is creative enough to come up with a scenario half this ridiculous?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s so mean! But no, I guess.¡±


    Will took a sip of juice. ¡°Not dreaming,¡± he said firmly.


    ¡°Not dreaming,¡± Sam repeated, trancelike.


    ¡°Jesus, finally. Are we over this now? You¡¯re really here, and this is really happening. Does that change anything you said yesterday? If it does, I understand.¡±


    Sam¡¯s face began to turn an alarming shade of red. Then, after struggling soundlessly for several moments, she shrieked: ¡°Of course it changes things! I said all that embarrassing stuff last night!¡±


    Will shrugged. ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I said that!¡±


    He didn¡¯t see what the big deal was, since he had said things that were just as embarrassing. He opened his mouth to mention that when Sam ducked her head under the table. A moment later, Will felt his feet get yanked out from under him. Before he knew what was happening she¡¯d rolled him clear onto the floor and had him in some sort of lock with her limbs wrapped all around him and an arm over his throat, his joints all screaming with pain.


    ¡°Now I¡¯ll have to kill you, then myself, and then no one will know my shame!¡± Sam squealed.


    Will fought a surge of claustrophobia, feeling like he was being constricted in the arms of a giant octopus. Knowing that he had no reasonable way to escape someone with her Strength, he forced himself to relax, shutting his eyes. Luckily, she wasn¡¯t bearing down on his windpipe very hard, so he managed to hiss: ¡°Sam, let me go. You¡¯re being a brat about this.¡±


    ¡°I kissed you!¡±


    ¡°You did.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I did that!¡±


    ¡°I did enjoy it, actually, if you were wondering.¡±


    Sam¡¯s hold loosened a bit, her feet unhooking from the insides of his thighs. ¡°Oh,¡± she said in his ear. ¡°You did?¡±


    ¡°I might even return the gesture sometime, if you would be so kind as to let me go this century.¡±


    Sam slowly unfurled, and Will affected indifference as he staggered to his feet, rolling his aching joints. ¡°Are we done with our tantrum now?¡±


    Looking up at him from her spot on the floor, Sam¡¯s face split in a sunny grin. ¡°Oh, my tantrum hasn¡¯t even started.¡±


    ¡°Wh¡ª¡±


    Sam rolled to her feet, grasped either side of Will¡¯s face to kiss him firmly on the mouth¡ªsloppily, all wet lips and scraping teeth¡ªbefore bumbling past him out of the kitchen. She bumped into Mongrel in the hall, who was running a hand through his thinning hair to get some water out of it, and she enfolded him in a big, crushing hug that lifted him off the floor and had him squealing like a little girl. Then she put him down, and Will padded into the hall so that both he and Mongrel watched her tumble off the front porch and roll across the green yard between the buildings.


    ¡°What¡¯s her damage?¡± Mongrel wondered.


    ¡°She thought she was in a dream this whole time,¡± Will explained wearily. ¡°I just cured her of that notion.¡±


    ¡°Ah, the ol¡¯ denial gimmick. Happens pretty often, you know.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°I did think she was taking everything in suspiciously good stride.¡±


    ¡°Could have mentioned that before,¡± Will grumbled.


    Mongrel shrugged with a crooked grin. ¡°That one¡¯s your problem, kid. This is why I like my women by-the-hour. No drama.¡±


    ¡°Classy, Matt. Really classy.¡±


    Will felt the need to step in when Sam began hugging one of the goats¡ªEsmerelda, he thought¡ªwho had slipped her pen. The she-goat was not impressed by the human¡¯s affection, idly chewing her cud while Sam clung to her neck, still prone on the ground.


    Will went and stood over her, hands on hips. ¡°Miss Darling? It¡¯s about time for Esmerelda here to get back to her friends, and it¡¯s about time for you to get up and stop acting like a nutcase.¡±


    Sam shot to her feet, and the goat let out a baleful bleat before tottering off somewhere with less humans to interrupt her meal. Sam¡¯s reddish hair stood out wild, and her cheeks were flushed, and she had a blade of grass caught at the corner of her mouth. Will pulled that out for her and flicked it away.


    She took him in another embrace¡ªmore softly this time, thank god¡ªand kissed him on the cheek. ¡°I love you,¡± she murmured. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see you again.¡±


    Will stroked her soft hair, trying vainly to smooth it down. ¡°All right, I love you too,¡± he said.


    She laughed, and he felt her chest reverberate with the sound. Then her voice quivered, and she began to cry instead.


    Will had never been too good with crying people. ¡°Hush now,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re okay. Everything¡¯s all right.¡±


    Sam bawled and gibbered incomprehensibly into his tunic, growing steadily louder. Will kept trying to soothe her, but he didn¡¯t know if he was making things better or worse, and he felt like a bad person over the fact that her nearness was making him excited in all sorts of inappropriate ways. He had to shift a little to avoid poking her with something potentially embarrassing.


    She held him tight, clinging to him desperately, and wailed like a child. Feeling an urge to do the same, he cleared his throat and pushed it away.


    Then, as abruptly as she had started, Sam fell silent. She wiped her snotty nose on his shoulder before taking a step back. She was back to beaming again, grinning more brightly than anyone he had ever seen, which made it impossible to stay mad over the trail of mucus she had left on his clothes.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay now,¡± Sam declared, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. ¡°I¡¯m just happy.¡±


    ¡°Happy enough to start working?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± she said with a mock salute.


    ¡°Good. Then we begin immediately.¡±

 Chapter 17 - Cue the Training Montage

    Mongrel


    ¡°Aren¡¯t they just the most adorable thing you¡¯ve ever seen?¡±


    Mongrel took his eyes off the young couple cavorting in the grass and glanced over his shoulder at the demoness as she sauntered out onto the porch.


    ¡°I won¡¯t argue with that,¡± he muttered, and bit into the greasy sausage he had filched from an unattended pan in the kitchen. ¡°So sweet I think I¡¯m getting cavities. And I¡¯ve got enough of those already.¡±


    ¡°Poor thing.¡± Nyx patted his cheek, her skin unnervingly warm. He felt her claws scrape on his tender, freshly shaven chin as she pulled her hand away. ¡°Might I have a bite?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Mongrel found that his attention had drifted back to the children¡ªthe she-bear one was squeezing the poor boy to pieces again. Then, looking down, he said, ¡°Oh,¡± and offered up the sausage in her direction. ¡°Knock yourself out.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t sure why he couldn¡¯t look away. Seeing the two of them made an old, half-forgotten scar pulse in him, something he¡¯d really rather forget. It was quite aggravating.


    ¡°I''m unable to tell if Samantha is harmless or dangerous,¡± Nyx mused while looking out over the yard, chewing daintily with a hand to her mouth. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°Um, not sure.¡±


    ¡°Matthew.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± He glanced briefly in her direction, blinking away a haze of memories.


    ¡°Why, you¡¯re barely leering at me at all! Are you sure you¡¯re all right, dearest?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too funny,¡± Mongrel grumbled flatly. But now that she mentioned it, he couldn¡¯t help but let his gaze drift down to her breasts, just for a moment. Her fault, really, for bringing it up.


    She looped a slender arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. The heat she gave off, along with her heady, cinnamony scent, was making his old heart beat much too fast. ¡°Seeing the two of them is making me feel broody,¡± Nyx complained. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to spend a little quality time with me tonight, Matthew?¡±


    Mongrel made it a point to not glance in the direction of those big, gorgeous eyes. ¡°I¡¯d love to, sweetness, but I¡¯m not sure I can afford your rates.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense.¡± She opened her mouth expectantly, flashing white, knife-sharp canines, and waited until Mongrel caught on and held up the sausage so she could chomp off another piece. ¡°Why don¡¯t we make a bet of it?¡± she added after swallowing. ¡°Whatever game you like. If you win, I¡¯ll let you have a night for free. I promise it would curl your toes into your heels and blow your brain out the top of your skull.¡±


    Mongrel laughed. ¡°How tempting. And if you win?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll donate your soul to me, of course.¡± She sounded offended that he even needed to ask. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, dearest¡ªI won¡¯t work you too hard.¡±


    ¡°I would love to, but I¡¯ve got business in the city. Probably won¡¯t be back until tomorrow.¡±


    Nyx pouted, fiery eyes smoldering as she stepped away and removed her arm from his. ¡°Boring.¡±


    Mongrel gave her his most winsome smile, bowed, and popped the last bit of the sausage into his mouth. ¡°Until the morrow, then, my lady.¡±


    The demoness turned her well-sculpted chin up at him, somehow managing to appear imperious despite being completely naked. ¡°If I don¡¯t get any appreciation, maybe I won¡¯t be here tomorrow. Maybe I¡¯ll have found myself a nice, handsome mortal who doesn¡¯t mind living a trifle dangerously.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I wish you would.¡±


    Nyx hissed, and Mongrel took that as his cue to leave, scampering off the porch while his hide was still in one piece.


    * * *


    Sam


    ¡°Where¡¯s he going?¡± Sam asked, letting her finger track Mongrel as he stalked across the yard toward the tall, red-painted stables standing on the right-hand side of the farmhouse. He gave a pair of sharp whistles, one pitched higher than the other, and before long two chimps came running to assist their master in whatever he was doing.


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s headed into town,¡± Will said absently. ¡°He sells some of the produce he makes to earn money for his drinking, gambling, and whoring fund.¡±


    Charming.


    ¡°What town?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Sheerhome. It¡¯s more of a city, really¡ªthe biggest one in this part of the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, can we go there?¡±


    Will grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s really not much of a tourist destination. I wouldn¡¯t recommend it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a good idea right now,¡± Will said, a little sharply. ¡°You need to be here right now, to focus on your training.¡± Seeing her indignation, his face softened. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s not you I don¡¯t trust, it¡¯s the animals that populate this place. We need to get your level up a bit before I¡¯ll feel comfortable letting you off the farm.¡±


    Sam nodded, biting her lip. ¡°I understand.¡± Then she allowed herself a little smile. ¡°Did I happen to hear you say ¡®training¡¯ just now?¡±


    Will chuckled. ¡°I thought that would get your attention.¡±


    ¡°What kind of training?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think I¡¯d let you stay at Level 1 forever, did you? We¡¯ve got to go through the basics of your Profession, and get you started on leveling. There¡¯s a lot to cover, and not a lot of time, I''m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we have a lot of time?¡±


    ¡°I''ll get there. Like I said, there¡¯s a lot for you to learn, so it¡¯s easier if we take it piecemeal.¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡±


    ¡°Good. Let me show you around the farm so you know what¡¯s where, then we can get started properly.¡±


    Will got Sam some hand-me-down footwear, and she followed eagerly at his heels as he wandered across the yard, pointing at buildings and explaining their purpose. They poked their heads into the stables, where Number Two and Number Four were strapping a harness on a long-eared donkey. Mongrel lounged nearby, leaning against a chest-high stall while watching his underlings work.


    ¡°This here¡¯s Zero,¡± Mongrel said, nodding toward the donkey. ¡°She¡¯s kind of like an honorary familiar at this point. You can pet her if you like.¡±


    ¡°Oh, can I?¡± Sam cooed, and immediately stepped up to the brown-colored animal with its huge black eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve never been this close to a donkey before.¡± Somehow, it felt almost equally as exotic as a chimp.


    ¡°She¡¯s a mule, not a donkey,¡± Mongrel corrected.


    Sam apologized to the mule and extended a hesitant hand to the beast. Zero sniffed at her palm, then began lipping at them. Sam giggled at the ticklish sensation, and stroked the mule up the side of her head. She seemed to enjoy it.


    Once the furry fellows with their task, Number Four led Zero outside by her bridle so she could be hitched up to a wagon filled with all sorts of things¡ªmostly edible ones. Number Two broke off from his brother and approached Sam, making nimble signs with both hands and wearing a querying expression.


    ¡°He¡¯s asking if you want anything from the city,¡± Will explained. ¡°Clearly, he¡¯s a lot more polite than his owner.¡±


    ¡°Hey! I heard that!¡± Mongrel whined, but did not care enough to look up from inspecting his nails.


    ¡°You were meant to,¡± Will replied.


    ¡°Thank you, Number Two,¡± Sam said and gave the furry creature a pat on the head, ¡°but I wouldn¡¯t even know what to ask for.¡± She could use a proper pair of boots, since the ones Will had given her fit a little snug, but that wasn¡¯t the kind of thing you could ask someone to eyeball the measurements on.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Will, however, had a list of things he wanted purchased, and offered a pack of cigarettes for Number Two and his brother to split between them if they carried out the task. The chimps accepted gladly.


    Then Mongrel set off with his mule and wagon, whistling as he walked alongside Zero with a hand on her neck. The chimps rode on the wagon, and were already passing a cigarette back and forth. Mongrel took into a wide, bumpy trail that led in among the trees, and he soon disappeared among their staggered lines.


    Will continued on, showing Sam the big crop fields downslope where wheat and oats made a carpet of shining gold beneath the morning sun. Number One wandered sedately among their rows, occasionally bending down to touch one of the plants with a greenish glow pulsing from his hand. Using a Farmer skill called Nurture to promote growth, Will explained. Because the chimps regularly treating the crops this way greatly accelerated production, they were apparently about to reap their second harvest of the year.


    Then there was the chimps¡¯ hut, which consisted of a single large room with bunks and hammocks for the boys to sleep in, but quite frankly the place stank even the from outside, and it looked a mess, so Sam was content with looking in through a window.


    Will showed off a chicken coop, with a gaggle of hens clucking and their red-maned rooster screaming angrily for the intruders to go away. Sam obliged, offering apologies, and Will instead took her out back of the farmhouse, where they passed a well ringed with stones and came to a vegetable garden, as well as a smaller one nearby which Will explained was a place where he grew herbs used in his work. It was filled with all sorts of beautiful flowers, a profusion of color.


    Will picked one for her, a little yellow one with slender petals. ¡°Celandine,¡± he explained, holding it between two fingers. ¡°It has several good medicinal properties. I use it often.¡±


    Sam grinned as she took it, and could not resist pinning it behind her ear. ¡°You were never a flowers kinda guy, were you?¡±


    Will shrugged, looking over his herb garden. ¡°I guess not. I picked it up for work, and somewhere along the way I began to enjoy collecting different herbs. Though, to be honest, Number One does most of the maintenance. I just plant them.¡±


    ¡°What do you do for work, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± The sour look that fell over his face told her that he was going to give her another evasive answer. ¡°I might be a Cook by Profession, but I¡¯d call myself more of an alchemist. I brew potions and medicines and things¡ªsome that I let Mongrel sell for a shared profit, and sometimes made to order items for specific clients. Like the local lord, for instance.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Sam said. ¡°But that¡¯s not why they call you ¡®Misfortune¡¯, is it?¡±


    Will¡¯s face darkened further. ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°Well, why do they?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a fun topic. Mind if we save that one for later?¡±


    ¡°Okay. But you will tell me?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Will said firmly. ¡°I¡¯m going to tell you everything, in time. I¡¯m just trying to do it in order, to sort of ease you into things.¡±


    There was also an outhouse at the back of the property, and some thirty feet off another small building made of cut stone, with a chimney sticking out of the tiled roof. That was Will¡¯s workshop, he explained, where he worked on his concoctions.


    ¡°Can I see?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Probably not a good idea. Some of the compounds I work with are toxic, and you¡¯re pretty clumsy, no offense. I¡¯d hate for you to accidentally ingest something lethal.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that clumsy, Will.¡±


    He just shrugged, smiling.


    ¡°All right. Keep your secrets then, dick.¡±


    After that he had them stroll past a woodshed on the left-hand side of the property that Mongrel used when he decided to actually do some carpentry, which apparently did not happen very often.


    ¡°That¡¯s about it,¡± Will said. ¡°It¡¯s only us out here¡ªno neighbors to worry about or anything, other than the occasional beast or bandit. Sheerhome¡¯s about an hour¡¯s walk to the west.¡± He pointed in the direction Mongrel had gone. ¡°Questions?¡±


    Sam held up her hand.


    ¡°Yes, the pretty one in the stolen tunic.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. How did you get to know Mongrel, anyway? Or is that a secret too?¡±


    Will shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not a secret at all, it¡¯s just not particularly interesting. Mongrel fished me out of the water and took me in, mostly so he had someone to do the busywork that the chimps wouldn¡¯t or couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So he was like your boss?¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s not anymore?¡±


    ¡°No, not really. Mongrel is clever enough when he wants to be, but he usually can¡¯t be bothered, so he¡¯s happy enough letting me manage the day-to-day around here.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s not because you¡¯re a higher level than him?¡±


    Will chuckled. ¡°Not really. A person¡¯s level is important here, don¡¯t get me wrong, but it¡¯s not an absolute measure of someone¡¯s worth or anything.¡±


    ¡°Why are you a higher level than him in the first place, if he¡¯s been here longer?¡±


    ¡°Leveling doesn¡¯t necessarily follow a linear progression. Like I''ve mentioned before, it¡¯s based on your progress and achievements within the activity associated with your Profession, both on a personal level and objectively from the Concord¡¯s point of view, so most people gain levels quickly at first, then plateau somewhere when they stop finding new things to learn or achieve.¡±


    ¡°Right. And as a Laborer that means, what? Lifting bigger and heavier things?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being slightly reductive, but yeah, more or less.¡± He motioned her off to the southwestern edge of the property, where the edge of the crop field transitioned into a patch of bumpy earth covered only in short-cropped grass. Tree stumps and broken rocks littered the area, some small as heads poking out of the ground, others almost the size of her entire torso. ¡°For your first bit of training today, you¡¯re going to help me clear the rocks out of this field so we can till the earth and expand our farmland.¡±


    Sam crinkled her nose. ¡°Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence and all, but some of these look like they weigh a literal ton. Do you really think I could lift those?¡±


    Will did not appear concerned. ¡°We won¡¯t know until you try. How many points did you put in Strength again?¡±


    ¡°Eight.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°Artie said that was a lot.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Artie, that slaver you nearly scared to death.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. Yeah, it¡¯s quite a lot. Depending on your Profession, people start with either eight or ten points to allocate total, so having eight in just one attribute is a nice start. Where did you put your other points?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± Sam searched her memory for the exact numbers. It was all kind of a blur at this point. ¡°Eight in Strength, six in Toughness, and six in Dexterity, I think.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Will looked slightly relieved. ¡°If you had twenty points to spend, that means you did the vow properly. What abilities did you pick?¡±


    ¡°Those passive things? There was one called ¡®Tenacious¡¯, and one called ¡®Stoneskin¡¯. Then I got one for free called ¡®Healing Factor¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, all Laborers get Healing Factor. It¡¯ll make you recover faster from injury or fatigue. Stoneskin is a good one, but Tenacious¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°I dunno. I guess that¡¯s on me for not giving you clearer instructions.¡±


    Sam stuck her tongue out at him. ¡°Well, I thought it looked good. So, I¡¯m assuming that whole vow business is one of those things you¡¯ll tell me about later?¡±


    ¡°That would probably be best.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but was it really necessary for me to eat a piece of paper in the middle of all that?¡±


    ¡°It was really necessary.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t tell if he was messing with her or not, but decided to let it go with a snort. ¡°If you say so. Well, I guess I might as well get started¡ªbut you can¡¯t laugh at me if this goes wrong.¡± Rolling up the sleeves of her tunic, she began to approach the nearest rock, a mossy lump of granite that was about pumpkin-sized, and began to stretch in preparation of attempting to move it.


    ¡°Hold on just a second,¡± Will said, lifting a hand. ¡°Let me try something. Try not to think about anything for a minute, okay?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Just do it.¡± He gestured vaguely. ¡°Like, clear your mind or whatever. Count trees. That sort of thing.¡±


    Sam huffed, but did her best to follow the instructions, trying to think of nothing but an empty black void. Results were mixed¡ªshe kept thinking about Will, instead. It was impossible not to, with him standing right in front of her with that stupidly handsome face of his.


    ¡°Identify [aggregated attribute scores],¡± Will said after a few moments.


    Sam felt a little tickle skitter across the inside of her skull, making her shiver. She worked her jaw to try and get rid of it, but it disappeared after a second or two. ¡°What was that? Another one of your magic tricks?¡±


    ¡°Yep. It¡¯s a little technical, so don¡¯t worry if it doesn¡¯t make sense to you, but basically your attributes aren¡¯t the only thing that determine how well you embody those traits in reality. All sorts of other factors are baked into it, too. Let¡¯s take Strength as an example. There¡¯s your natural strength, as in what you had before you came to the Frontier. Then there¡¯s the Strength attribute points you put in, which modify that strength, like a multiplier. But there are other factors as well. I don¡¯t know them all, since digging into the guts of the Concord can be tough, and not best done by someone of my Profession, but the biggest one I know of aside from attribute score is something called an effort multiplier, which acts directly on your attribute score to determine how much you get out of your points.


    ¡°What it boils down to is that someone who works with their attribute frequently to improve themselves by their own merit will get more out of that attribute than someone who only relies on the Concord for easy power boosts.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Sam said flatly. ¡°Can I lift this rock now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to say that some of your aggregated scores are even higher than I expected, meaning your effort modifiers must be very good. You¡¯ve been working hard for the past five years, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Sam blushed a little. ¡°I¡­ I really tried. I didn¡¯t know why at the time, I just felt like I had to train.¡±


    Will grinned. He looked a little less tired when he smiled. ¡°Well, you must have done a great job to get numbers like this. I think I can say with confidence that between your effort multipliers and the extra attribute points from your divine vow, there¡¯s not many Level 1s in the Frontier who can top the raw power you¡¯re packing.¡±


    ¡°Aww, you really think so?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah, I do.¡±


    ¡°Heh. Nice.¡± After pushing herself for so long without any clear goal or hope of progress, finally getting some praise felt pretty damn sweet.


    With no further interruptions forthcoming, Sam was eager to test out her new strength after the way Will had hyped it up. Squatting low, she gripped the edges of the large stone and heaved, lifting with her legs. Her muscles quivered with strain, and she let out a sharp breath. The rock shifted, and she got a better grip underneath it, and soon it lifted off the ground, her arms trembling as she hoisted it between her legs.


    ¡°It¡¯s heavy,¡± she grunted. ¡°But¡­ not that heavy.¡± She couldn¡¯t keep the amazement out of her voice. She felt like a little girl. ¡°Where do you want it?¡±


    ¡°Good job.¡± Will clapped his hands with only a hint of sarcasm, then motioned in the direction of the treeline. ¡°Just somewhere over there, out of the way.¡±


    ¡°You got it, man.¡± Mostly to see if she could, Sam shifted her grip again, hauled the rock higher until it was resting against her shoulder and one side of her head, rough edges digging into her skin.


    ¡°Sam,¡± Will said warningly. ¡°Maybe you ought to start out slow.¡±


    Twisting her body, half-spinning, Sam hurled the heavy stone in a steep arc, shooting for the treeline. It landed about two thirds of the way there, twelve or thirteen feet off, with a heavy thump.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± she muttered, flexing rubbed-raw hands.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Will observed.


    Sam flashed a devilish grin as she went off to roll her first victim off into the trees. ¡°Hold on. I¡¯ll get the next one all the way there¡ªwatch.¡±


    Will sighed, arms crossed. ¡°Well, I guess I can¡¯t complain about your enthusiasm.¡±

 Chapter 18 - Cue the Training Montage [2]

    Will


    Sam slowly picked through the field, rolling the bigger boulders and tossing the smaller ones. Will supervised. I guess this is what Mongrel must feel like, watching other people do his work all day.


    Sam was too absorbed in her task to say much of anything for a while, but eventually she stopped rolling a large rock halfway to the now stone-littered treeline and took a seat on top of her mossy charge. ¡°How come you¡¯re not helping out?¡± she asked. She wiped sweat from her forehead, only managing to smear it with dirt and plant matter instead.


    ¡°This is for your benefit, not mine,¡± Will said. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t have a bunch of points in Strength like you do.¡±


    ¡°You know, I was kind of getting that feeling when we were tussling, but why? I thought you were some kind of high-level so-and-so.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I couldn¡¯t put points in Strength even if I wanted to. There are eight different basic attributes in total, but each Profession only gets access to a combination of four. I started out as a Cook, which means I have Senses, Awareness, Empathy, and Dexterity. When you reach Level 10, you get access to one of four so-called ¡®derived attributes¡¯, mine being Haste. I also got to choose one of the Explorer¡¯s attributes for branching into that, so I picked Processing. I¡¯ve got my points pretty evenly spread among all of those except Empathy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re pretty lacking in the empathy department, not gonna lie.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re very clever,¡± Will said flatly.


    ¡°No offense dude, but your attributes sound kind of dorky. There¡¯s a thing called Awareness, and you put points in that?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Her brows shot up, incredulous. ¡°All right, man. To each their own, I guess.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I just picked them at random, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you had some kind of master plan behind it all. But all I¡¯m hearing is¡­¡± She hopped up off her rock, crossing her dirt-smeared arms over her chest, ¡°...that I¡¯m finally stronger than you.¡±


    Will rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw his own gray matter. ¡°Sure, Sam. You¡¯re stronger than me. Does that make you feel good about yourself?¡±


    She grinned wide. ¡°Actually, yes!¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it. Now, about those rocks¡­¡±


    ¡°Hold on there, mister! I wanna settle this right now.¡± Her smile began to take on an evil edge as she approached him. ¡°How about we have a good ol¡¯ fashioned wrestling match, like we used to?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a good idea, Sam.¡±


    ¡°Afraid you can¡¯t beat a lowly little Level 1?¡± With a mock pout, she tapped the single AP crystal on her left arm.


    ¡°No, not really. Let¡¯s get back on track.¡± He nodded toward the rock she¡¯d left behind.


    ¡°You¡¯re scareddd,¡± Sam cooed. She stepped uncomfortably close to him, periodically flexing and unflexing her crossed forearms.


    ¡°I¡¯m not so much scared of you as for you,¡± Will corrected. ¡°Us fighting wouldn¡¯t be a good idea¡ªyou could get hurt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m quaking with fear.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Sam. Give it up.¡±


    She let out a mischievous snicker. ¡°Or you¡¯ll do what, Master One-Eye?¡±


    And just like that, she had worn out the last of his patience. Fine. If she wants to know where she stands on the ladder, I¡¯ll show her.


    Launching into a Dash, Will slammed his curled shoulder into Sam¡¯s midsection. The force knocked her clean off her feet and sent her tumbling ass-over-head, coming to a stop with her back against the rock she had abandoned.


    ¡°Guh¡­?¡± Sam wheezed, gagging breathlessly as she curled up around her stomach.


    ¡°Enough to paint a picture?¡± Will asked. As he straightened out, he made sure not to indicate how much his shoulder throbbed from throwing himself against her body. Enhanced by both points in Toughness and the Stoneskin passive, she was nearly as hard as the latter implied.


    He knew even before Sam staggered to her feet that she wasn¡¯t done. She had that annoyingly stubborn streak to her that no amount of broken bones or skinned knees had ever been able to beat out of her as a kid.


    Recovering more quickly than he¡¯d expected, Sam came pounding right back up the same way she¡¯d just tumbled down. She jumped high, and he crouched low, holding up one hand and bracing his wrist with the other.


    ¡°Amp (Four): Repel,¡± he hissed.


    There was a sharp whooshing of displaced air, and Sam¡¯s eyes went wide as she was launched ten feet straight up; waving her arms and screaming, tumbling end-over-end. Will hit another Dash the moment it came off skill lag, shooting up as she came down, and his knee collided with her face, reversing her spin. She belly-flopped to the ground with a heavy thud, while he landed next to her in a crouch.


    Sam whimpered softly, but otherwise lay completely still, her face pressed against the grass.


    ¡°Understand now?¡± Will asked, patting her on the back. ¡°Strength isn''t the only thing that will decide the outcome of a fight.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you¡­¡± Sam groaned.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we take a break for now?¡± He stood, putting hands on hips while he waited for Sam to get up. ¡°With how hard-headed you are, I doubt that was enough to give you a concussion. Stop being dramatic.¡±


    Now both his shoulder and his knee were hurting.


    * * *


    Sam


    Sam had never known that it was possible to be both angry and horny at the same time.


    Sitting on the rock that she had become intimately familiar with at this point, holding a rag to her still-bleeding nose, there was no way for her to deny that Will had completely destroyed her. The difference between them was even bigger than the one between her and the men she¡¯d spent her time losing to on Earth.


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have riled him up so much, she thought glumly, working her battered jaw.


    But as much as Sam hated losing, she had to admit that there was something unreasonably sexy about a man who could fold her up like laundry if he had a mind to.


    ¡°Feeling any better?¡± Will asked. He stood over her, his expression a mix of concern and annoyance.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sam said sheepishly.


    Kneeling, a little black void opened up by Will¡¯s left elbow, and he pulled a small bag out of it. After extracting a small clay flask from the bag, he stuffed it back inside the void and allowed it to disappear. He held the flask out to her. ¡°Here. This¡¯ll help your headache.¡±


    Sam took the bottle, studying it. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°A healing potion.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡±


    ¡°Herbs and things.¡±


    ¡°¡®And things¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Just drink the potion, Sam. I do this for a living, you know.¡±


    With a shrug, Sam uncorked the flask and emptied its contents into her mouth. Whatever she was drinking had an earthy, mildly bitter taste, but didn¡¯t go down any worse than regular cough syrup. Smacking her lips once it was all done, she handed the empty container back to Will to dispose of.


    Only minutes later, she did notice that her head was throbbing a bit less. Once she was good to go, she set to work again, working to clear the second half of the rock-strewn field.


    ¡°Some of these are all broken,¡± Sam said, inspecting a large boulder that looked as though it had been shattered into pieces by something very heavy. There were others that looked similar, and something told her it wasn¡¯t a natural phenomenon.


    ¡°One of the chimps went and hit those rocks with Demolish a few days ago to make them easier to move, but we never got around to actually getting rid of the things.¡±


    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s neat. They really are good boys, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them hear you say that. It¡¯ll go straight to those big heads of theirs.¡±


    After she finished with the rocks, Will took her back to the farmhouse and cooked her up a stir fry as a late lunch. Apparently it was time for a theoretical lesson. He talked while she ate.


    ¡°Let me tell you a bit about divine vows,¡± he said after an exhausting run-down on recognizing all the Profession symbols. ¡°You might have inferred as much already, but it¡¯s an oath a person can make with the Concord, forgoing something in order to get a special benefit. It can give a very useful advantage, especially since not too many people know about them, but each person can only make one vow, which means you have to make it count.¡±


    Sam nodded dutifully, though she was mostly focused on stabbing some fried peppers onto her fork. She¡¯d always been a big eater, but she¡¯d never not been hungry since arriving at the Frontier.


    ¡°You make a vow by pitching it to the Concord. You set the terms of a vow and a benefit, and the system lets you know if it accepts or not. Finding a vow with the optimal terms can involve some trial and error. I spent a fair bit of time working on yours.¡±


    ¡°Fhanks,¡± Sam mumbled around her food, already putting another forkful in.


    ¡°You¡¯re very welcome. Vows can be made verbally, in writing, by sign, or even mentally, but I thought giving you yours in writing was the easiest way to ensure you actually got it right. Unfortunately for you, that meant you had to eat the paper with the vow written on it to formally activate it.¡±


    Sam swallowed hard. ¡°It tasted like ass.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll imagine. I tried to specify the terms so you¡¯d get the double attribute points applied retroactively, but the Concord wouldn¡¯t go for that, so I had you make the vow before you picked your Profession instead, meaning you could still get your ten starting points doubled. You might honestly be the first person in Frontier history to start with twenty points. You can''t appreciate how good that is yet, but you will.¡±


    Sam shrugged.


    ¡°For reference, at Level 14, I only have 24 points total.¡±


    ¡°You still beat my ass, though.¡±


    Will gave her a slightly apologetic smile. ¡°Yeah. You did start it, to be fair.¡±


    ¡°You beat on women, William.¡±


    ¡°When they act like little shits, I do.¡±


    Sam flicked a pepper off her fork at his face; he caught it and ate it.


    ¡°Either way, our builds are quite different,¡± he continued. ¡°You can¡¯t take any skills because of your divine vow, meaning you¡¯re limited to only passives. That¡¯s not too much of a drawback, though, as Laborers have some of the best passives. It means your build will be heavily slanted toward being a powerful bruiser with a lot of sustain.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± Sam asked. She scraped up the last bit of stir fry, chewed, and stared mournfully at the empty crockery.


    Sighing, Will swapped their plates around so she got what was left of his portion. She grinned winsomely at him, then dug in.


    ¡°My build is a bit more¡­ sprawling, you could say,¡± Will continued. ¡°I can make potions, medicines, and nourishing meals with my Cook skills, while also gaining a lot of speed and burst movement from Explorer, which allows me to be useful in a fight. Lastly, I''ve got pretty good intel-gathering skills, so overall you could consider me a well-rounded support type.¡±


    ¡°Have you made one of those vow thingies yourself?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Will replied, grinning. ¡°I¡¯m pretty proud of it, actually.¡±


    Sam rolled her eyes. ¡°Because?¡±


    He ran a finger over the line of thick stitches holding shut his droopy eye. ¡°I vowed to never open my left eye. In exchange, the range of all my skills is doubled. The Concord likes it when you make vows that are symbolically symmetrical. The extra range helps a bunch of my observational skills out, so it works out well that way.¡±


    ¡°Double range? Doesn¡¯t sound that special.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than it sounds.¡±


    ¡°Sure. it is¡±


    ¡°I beat you, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    Snorting, Sam took an angry bite of food. ¡°Whatever.¡± She paused, chewing thoughtfully. ¡°I thought you already gave your eye to the demon bitch, though?¡±


    Will¡¯s grin widened. ¡°That was after I¡¯d already made the vow.¡±


    ¡°So you gave up an eye you¡¯d already¡­ given up?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s anything to look that smug about. You still only have one eye. And half a dick.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t give up half my dick.¡±


    Sam shrugged. It was useless to argue with him when he was in one of his pedantic moods.


    ¡°Anyway, my build is good, shut up.¡± He was pouting now. ¡°I spent a lot of time coming up with it.¡±


    ¡°Aw, dude, I didn¡¯t mean to hurt your feelings,¡± Sam said sympathetically, reaching across the table to pat the back of his hand. ¡°I¡¯m sure your build is great. It¡¯s not that edgy.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°What, what?¡±


    ¡°My build isn¡¯t ¡®edgy¡¯, what are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I said¡ªnot that edgy! I¡¯m agreeing with you!¡±


    Will looked like he wanted to throw something at her. Sam snickered into her food.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± he said, sighing heavily into his hands, ¡°skills can be a hassle to untangle, and I figured you¡¯d rather not bother with all that, so I thought this type of passive-only build would suit you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sam admitted. ¡°I¡¯m not that into all the magic words people keep using. They give me a headache.¡±


    ¡°I made the right choice, then?¡±


    ¡°I reckon so.¡± Sam threw him a crooked half-grin, the other cheek stuffed with food. ¡°Thanks, man. I mean it.¡± It really did make her feel a bit tingly inside, to hear that he had spent a lot of time thinking about how to help her along. He¡¯d always been sweet like that.


    ¡°Well, that might be enough of a system theory lesson for now,¡± Will said, scooting his chair back to stand up. ¡°If I know you right, your brain should be hurting by now.¡±


    ¡°Moderately,¡± Sam admitted, and went to lick her second plate clean.


    ¡°All right. I¡¯ve got some reagents in my workshop that¡¯ll spoil soon if I don¡¯t make something out of them, so why don¡¯t you take an hour or two to rest up? The way I rung your dome, it might be for the best.¡±


    Sam snorted. ¡°You think that hurt? Ha!¡± She had been worried that her jaw might be dislocated, but it was probably fine. It did do this weird clicking thing when she chewed, though¡­


    Will tried to look stern, but he was unable to hide a little smile through the stony mask of his face. ¡°Well? Think you could amuse yourself until I get back?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    ¡°You might find one of the boys to play with if you look. Just keep in mind, they learned everything they know from their father, so they¡¯re pretty lethal behind a clutch of cards.¡±


    ¡°Got it. Shoo, now.¡± She waved vaguely in Will¡¯s direction as she threw her feet up on the kitchen couch, flopping prone. ¡°I haven¡¯t got time for you right now.¡±


    Sam settled in for a nap, but cracked an eye when she heard Will retreating so she could watch his ass on the way out. Not bad.


    Not baaad at aaall.


    * * *


    Sam


    Sam was pulled from a lovely dream¡ªinvolving a bakery filled with warm fluffy buns¡ªby the voice of her archnemesis.


    ¡°Hello, Samantha.¡±


    Groaning, Sam shook herself awake and worked herself into a sitting position. She blinked blearily at the demoness, who was sitting cross-legged on the tabletop¡ªthankfully, most of her unmentionables were covered up by a baggy red tunic.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just to chat,¡± Nyx purred, yellow eyes flashing. ¡°I want us to be friends, you know.¡±


    Sam laughed derisively.


    ¡°I even wore a shirt for you, see?¡± Nyx tugged at the linen fabric with the sharp nails of her thumb and forefinger.


    Rubbing her eyes until she could see somewhat clearly, Sam grumbled: ¡°Is that one of Will¡¯s?¡±


    The demoness clutched her neck in mock offense. ¡°Absolutely not! Just what do you think of me, Samantha!¡±


    ¡°Only terrible things, I assure you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good.¡± Nyx breathed a relieved sigh. ¡°I was beginning to worry.¡±


    With no wind-up or warning, Sam threw a right jab at the demon¡¯s face. Her fist met no resistance, sinking through a cloud of dark smoke that collapsed back into a grinning, aggravatingly beautiful face the moment she drew it away.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Sam grumbled. ¡°I had to make sure.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no offense taken, dear. I find that mortals are simply unable to keep their hands off me. It¡¯s flattering, really.¡±


    ¡°Do you get off on annoying every single person around you?¡±


    Nyx gave a lazy half-shrug, leaning back on her hands. ¡°It passes the time, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Have you ever tried being nice? It might just agree with you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me gag, Samantha. I prefer to have other people doing that.¡±


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    ¡°And I find you absolutely fascinating, dear. Can I touch your hair?¡± She was already reaching her grubby little demon hand out.


    Sam abruptly leapt up off the couch, weaving away from Nyx¡¯s grasp, and stalked toward the front door. ¡°I¡¯m going out!¡± she barked over her shoulder.


    The demon¡¯s mocking laugh followed her until she slammed the door shut.


    Vile, vile woman! And Will thinks she¡¯s one of the reasonable ones? I don¡¯t believe that.

 Chapter 19 - A Nice Bit of Unsanctioned Sightseeing

    Sam


    Since she didn¡¯t see anyone when she got into the yard, Sam figured she would have to make her own fun. Her head was feeling a lot better already, and she was raring to put her new body to a proper test.


    Deadlifting boulders is one thing, but what else is there?


    Looking over the property and considering her options, she had the idea to go for a run. It would be the perfect way to work off some energy and help take her mind off a certain despicable someone.


    With no other real paths in evidence, Sam picked the one she had seen Mongrel use to head west into town and started off along it. The trail was bumpy and circuitous, and looked like it might have been made by animal feet originally before human traffic had broadened it. But the crookedness of the path did not bother her, because it gave her a chance to see how deftly she could move. Beginning at a slow jog, Sam gradually quickened her steps until she was eating up ground at a frightening pace, leaping over roots and dancing around rocks with the rush of air howling in her ears.


    Faster, she thought, and faster she went.


    The trees became a corridor of smeared green and brown, passing by so fast that she could not observe the rise and fall of the landscape if she¡¯d had a care to.


    Sam laughed, and the sound was swallowed by the roaring wind. Her body had never felt anywhere near this responsive, this powerful. Before, no matter how hard she¡¯d trained, she had always been slower than she expected, than she needed to be. Now, it seemed to do what she wanted even before she had a chance to think it, moving around obstacles that she had barely observed by the time they slid past out of her view.


    It was pure bliss.


    A shuddering scream of anguish broke Sam out of her breakneck trance, had her skidding and stumbling as she tried to come to a stop. She ended up panting and bent-double with a hand on the trunk of a broad pine to steady her. Whipping her head around, sweaty hair throwing off droplets of sweat, she tried to figure out what she had just heard, and where it had come from.


    It hadn¡¯t sounded human, but¡­ it wasn¡¯t like any animal she had ever heard, either.


    The forest was too dense for her to make anything out more than twenty-or-so feet off the trail. Suddenly paranoid, Sam reached down and picked up a sturdy-looking branch to wield as a club, whipping it against the nearby pine to make sure it held.


    She listened for what felt like minutes, but the cry didn¡¯t come again. Straining her ears, there was only the rustle of pine needles and occasionally the scratching of a rodent or the trilling of a bird. Nothing untoward, certainly.


    Or¡­? Did that sound like¡­ footsteps? Was she imagining it? Maybe it was just¡­ trees settling, or something.


    There was a blur of movement, something falling out of a treetop right at her, and Sam let out an undignified squeak as she raised her improvised weapon to bat away whatever thing was trying to murder her.


    Her pounding heart did not slow when she realized that it was only a vested chimp, having landed on top of a rock beside her.


    ¡®1¡¯, read the patch on his breast.


    Sam began to lower her club, deflating with a long breath. ¡°Holy shit,¡± she said. ¡°You scared me!¡±


    The old chimp slowly put a finger over his lips, raised his eyebrows pointedly. Feeling another rush of alarm, Sam stifled whatever she had been about to say, teeth clacking as she snapped her mouth shut.


    Number One nodded, then motioned with an open hand for her to keep low. Sam immediately dropped into a crouch, and the chimp came to pull her over so they both stood behind the tree she had been leaning against. He peered around its edge into the distance, and she did the same, though she had no idea what she was looking out for. She wished that he could let her know, but she had no idea how to interpret those hand signs the chimps used.


    The chimp unslung a shortbow from a case on his back, pulled out a fletched arrow from a quiver attached to the same case, and nocked it.


    The ¡®footsteps¡¯ Sam had been hearing seemed to be growing louder until she felt confident she wasn¡¯t imagining them. The way the sound echoed through the forest made it difficult to pinpoint a direction, but she had to imagine it had its source where Number One was staring.


    There was a brief snatch of movement between the trees, then another. The chimp did not move at all, except to chew on the end of an unlit cigarette held between his lips.


    There was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Time stretched on. Sam¡¯s vigilance was beginning to fray when, all of a sudden, something emerged out of the backdrop. Something that walked on two legs, its shoulders brushing tree trunks when it moved, upsetting pine crowns and sending needles rustling to the forest floor. Something enormous.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The creature was almost shaped like a person, but Sam would never have believed that it was human. Standing nine or ten feet tall, it was thick with blubbery fat and corded muscle, surely weighing at least as much as a large car. Its skin was a brownish-green that made it blend frighteningly well into the background given its size. Its head was lumpy and misshapen, with only a few stripy strands of black hair slicked to its tumorous pate. Thin lips were drawn back in a snarl of rage¡ªor maybe pain, she thought¡ªand fists like some of the medium-sized boulders she had just been lifting were balled tight at its sides. The creature wore only a putrid hide to cover its crotch, which swung and flapped when it walked.


    Worst of all, however, were the huge, gaping sores that covered the creature¡¯s body, especially about the torso and arms. They wept off-yellow pus that congealed like candle wax in countless little trails down its doughy body. Insects crawled in and out of these open wounds, having seemingly made their homes there. Wasps the size of fists¡ªa whole swarm of them¡ªbuzzed in a loose cloud around the lumbering behemoth. Occasionally raising an oar-blade of a hand to swat at them, the creature only managed to disperse them for a moment or two before they gathered back into formation.


    Holy fuck¡­ Sam thought, forcing back a wave of bile with a hard swallow. She had never seen anything half so disgusting in all her life. Both her lives.


    Number One remained stiff as stone, even stopped fussing with his smoke. The creature moved roughly in their direction, bound to cross the trail and pass them with only a few feet to spare.


    To their good fortune, the giant¡ªor whatever it was¡ªappeared to have too much on its mind to notice them. It cried out in a rough, guttural voice that shook the ground whenever it tried to scratch at one of its many wounds. Sam could not help but pity the thing, as it was obviously in agony, but the chimp¡¯s reaction implied that it would likely not be happy at seeing some tiny strangers cross its path.


    As it staggered past, upsetting trees in its almost blind shamble through the woods, the monstrous wasps that patrolled about their living home drew frighteningly close until Sam could make out the sheen of their mad kaleidoscope eyes and the iridescence wings that thrummed like small engines.


    Sam held her breath and squeezed herself against the bole of her beloved pine tree. One of the wasps hovered toward her, the size of a small rodent. Her eyes went wide as it landed on her forehead, feeling its legs scrape about between her eyes, the occasional buzz of its wings reverberating through her skull.


    Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck¡­


    The insect¡ªif something that enormous could still be called such¡ªstilled on top of her head, and she felt its legs shift as it readjusted itself.


    Slowly, slowly, Number One took his hand off the bowstring and reached out toward the thing.


    The wasp buzzed suspiciously at the appendage drawing near it, and she thought it was preparing to do something, could already imagine the feeling of its dagger-like stinger carving into her.


    Then, suddenly, some sort of box slid into existence around the bug, like a cage of bluish glass. Number One caught it as it began to fall out of the air, pulling it into his arms. The wasp battered itself soundlessly against the walls of its containment in impotent rage, but did not put a scratch on the see-through material, whatever it was.


    The giant moved on. To her great relief, the other wasps did not appear to realize that one of their comrades had gone missing, and soon their buzzing receded into nothing along with the giant¡¯s heavy footfalls, leaving the forest in serene silence once more.


    As soon as they were gone, Number One placed his cube of glass on the ground, stood, and drew back an arrow until the fletching brushed his cheek. For several moments, nothing happened. Then the glass shattered in a shower of shards. Before the wasp could move at all, the chimp loosed, and an arrow impaled it to the ground by its bulbous abdomen, gross yellow insect guts leaking out into the undergrowth.


    ¡°Ew,¡± Sam whispered.


    Number One shrugged. Drawing a long knife from the inside of his vest, he cut the scrabbling insect clean in half, then cleaned the blade against the grass and replaced it. He withdrew his arrow, inspected the edge, and cleaned it in the same way before sticking it back in the quiver.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Sam asked, realizing immediately that Number One could not answer.


    The chimp flashed several hand signs, and when it became clear that she did not understand, he sighed and put on a patient expression, as though dealing with a child. He held up both hands with forefingers extended so they looked like horns coming off his head, cocking a questioning eyebrow as he waited for her answer.


    ¡°Demon?¡± Sam asked, and got a head shake in reply. "Evil?"


    The chimp nodded, letting his hands drop.


    ¡°Monster?¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got those here?¡±


    A shrug.


    Number One began leading her back along the trail, and Sam trotted sheepishly behind. He looked back frequently to make sure she was following, which made her feel like she really was an unruly kid who had gotten into some irresponsible mischief.


    At least I know what Will meant when he said there are worse things than slavers in these woods, Sam thought. She did not want to begin imagining the haranguing waiting in her near future.


    They made it back to the farm without incident, and Sam waited in the yard feeling suitably ashamed while Number One went out back to fetch Will from his workshop.


    Fortunately¡ªand surprisingly¡ªWill did not look particularly angry as he came wandering across the yard side-by-side with the old chimp. He stopped in front of Sam, and a packet of cigarettes changed hands between him and Number One before the latter hobbled off.


    ¡°You hurt?¡± Will asked neutrally. ¡°Aside from the brain damage, I mean. We can chalk that up to a preexisting condition.¡±


    Sam decided to swallow her retort to that, figuring that it was best to take her dressing-down with grace. ¡°I¡¯m not hurt,¡± she said. ¡°Sorry for leaving the farm. I thought it¡¯d be fine.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± She endured Will pacing around her in a circle, occasionally tugging at her clothing or lifting one of her arms. ¡°All right, you¡¯re good.¡±


    Sam blinked at him as he stood back. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be a bit more angry with me for running off.¡±


    He cocked his head in a sort of shrugging gesture. ¡°Nah, it was my bad. I didn¡¯t explicitly tell you not to leave the farm, after all.¡±


    ¡°You did say it was dangerous, though.¡±


    ¡°I did. But I should have guessed that words like ¡®dangerous¡¯ would only activate the contrarian in you.¡±


    Sam folded her hands together, going small. ¡°Sorreee.¡±


    ¡°It''s okay. Let¡¯s consider it a learning opportunity. Now you know why it¡¯s not a good idea for you to leave this place yet, right?¡±


    ¡°Yessirrr.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±

 Chapter 20 - The Nail That Sticks Out

    Sam


    After her encounter with the monster¡ªa troll, Will had called it¡ªtraining was kept light for the rest of the day. Will had her dig some tree stumps out of the ground with an axe and an iron spit, then they called it quits.


    Sam had a much easier time falling asleep that night, despite throbbing bruises and pangs of growing pain. Now that she knew she definitely wasn¡¯t in a dream, she found that she felt too awkward to initiate anything with Will, even though she badly wanted to kiss him. She settled for running her fingers over the scars on his chest, which he did not seem to mind.


    Mongrel returned from his trip to Sheerhome in the morning, interrupting breakfast by charging into the kitchen with an expression that could curdle milk.


    ¡°You won¡¯t believe this!¡± he shrieked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure I won¡¯t,¡± Will sighed without looking up from his food. ¡°Good morning to you too, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, now listen to this; Annie went and quit on me!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Will cried, his one eye widening in pretend shock. Then, in a more dull voice, he said: ¡°Who¡¯s Annie?¡±


    Mongrel was outraged at this despicable lack of common knowledge, and looked around the table for support. When he received none aside for a vaguely apologetic shrug from Nyx, he huffed angrily. ¡°Only my favorite working girl at the Red House!¡±


    When it became clear that he was expecting further prompting, Will sighed, then obliged: ¡°Right, of course, your favorite prostitute. How could I forget. What about her, Matt?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t like to be called prostitutes,¡± Mongrel corrected with a wagging finger, then pulled out a chair to drape himself bonelessly over.


    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, Annie went and got married to some Trader from Octant Seven and quit the business, can you believe it?¡±


    ¡°I sure can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I had to settle for Georgina! She¡¯s a shrew!¡±


    ¡°Oh dear. Well, I¡¯m glad you survived that horrible ordeal.¡±


    Mongrel huffed, crossing skinny arms atop a round belly. ¡°You people are all heartless. I really loved that girl, you know.¡±


    ¡°Aw, poor thing,¡± Nyx murmured. She hopped up on the table, tiptoed deftly around plates and mugs, and dropped down in Mongrel¡¯s lap. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Matthew. I know how you mortals love your love.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t encourage him,¡± Will muttered into his food.


    ¡°Please encourage me,¡± Mongrel whined. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to kill myself.¡±


    ¡°There, there,¡± the demoness purred, giving his chin a scratch. She sounded so aggressively sincere that she looped around again to sounding sarcastic.


    After breakfast, Will took Sam out into the yard, explaining that she was ready to begin training in earnest now that they had at least established a baseline for her abilities and she had gotten used to the way her improved body functioned.


    He tossed something at her that had been stood against one of the porch pillars, and she caught it on reflex. It was a long wooden dowel¡ªsanded smooth and almost perfectly cylindrical¡ªthat fit well in her hand.


    ¡°Practice sword,¡± he elaborated before she could ask the question.


    ¡°You want me to train with swords?¡±


    ¡°More or less.¡± He motioned to one of the chimps, Number Three, who had lined up on the other side of the open space between the cluster of buildings. ¡°We¡¯re going to have you practice against Number Three here. Keep going until you¡¯re able to beat him.¡±


    ¡°Wait, where are you going?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got work of my own. There¡¯s not much to supervise here, so I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be fine on your own.¡±


    ¡°What if I hurt him?¡±


    Number Three grinned, and Will shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. Mongrel has made the boys into familiars, which means they don¡¯t exactly work like regular animals anymore. A familiar only dies if its master does, so even if you knock Number Three¡¯s head off he¡¯ll come back in a day or two. Probably a bit pissed off, but otherwise perfectly all right.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Sam spun her dowel, testing its weight. ¡°What if he hurts me?¡± She noticed that Number Three was hefting a heavy wooden mallet that looked like it might easily crack someone¡¯s skull open, and the chimp seemed eager to use it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that, either. Between your Stoneskin passive and your points in Toughness, he shouldn¡¯t be able to hurt you too bad. Just come fetch me if he hits you on the head hard enough that you go blind or start throwing up.¡±


    ¡°Will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Have fun!¡±


    Will strutted off around the side of the farmhouse, soon slipping out of sight, and Number Three took that as the bell being rung. He hobbled toward her, surprisingly quick despite his stiff bow legs, swinging the mallet over his head with one hand and knuckling the ground with the other.


    ¡°All right, let¡¯s¡ª¡±


    Number Three let out a howling war cry and dove for Sam, swinging his weapon in a downward arc. She stepped back and felt a whoosh of air as the blocky wooden head passed just clear of her nose and hit the ground between her legs. Realizing that there was no way for her to beg off this task, she raised her own glorified stick as she retreated across the yard, catching a second blow that rattled her arms with the force of it.


    Number Three was relentless, swinging his mallet and swiping with his off-hand so that Sam was forced to cede ground until she was backed up all the way to the woodshed. Kicking off the wall, she ducked under a horizontal hammer sweep and brought her own weapon to bear, but the chimp caught the dowel in his fist to divert her attack and laughed a shrieking laugh.


    At least he wasn¡¯t able to pull it out of her grasp, grunting in annoyance when he tried. But then he abruptly let go, which had Sam stumbling. He stayed right on top of her, hooking the back of a leg with his mallet to flip her onto the ground, then bringing the heavy flat down square on her head, which had her seeing double and staggering drunkenly when she tried to stand up, forced to ask for a short break.


    After what felt like an endless series of sparring sessions, Sam came to the conclusion that Number Three was the most cruel of the boys, taking great pleasure in knocking her down and laughing mockingly whenever she was too weak to continue.


    It didn¡¯t help that his brothers had all taken off work for the day to come watch, smoking on the porch while signing to each other and snickering.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Luckily, Sam was well familiar with humiliation. It wasn¡¯t that it didn¡¯t bother her; rather the opposite¡ªeach failure stoked a fire in her, fueled her to try harder.


    So she kept going.


    By the time Will returned in the afternoon to let her off, she was battered beyond belief, feeling like she¡¯d been hit by a car that had then backed over her a few times for good measure. He offered an arm to help her inside, and placed out an array of little potion bottles on the kitchen table that she had to drink before she was allowed to start on her dinner.


    ¡°It¡¯ll take the edge off the pain and help with your recovery,¡± Will explained. Sam found that her hands were too shaky and raw to work properly and he helped her cut up her food so she could eat.


    ¡°That was awful,¡± Sam said, feeling sorry for herself. She was hardly even hungry. ¡°I barely landed a single hit.¡±


    ¡°Number One said you did well,¡± Will pointed out.


    ¡°He did?¡± Number One was her favorite of the chimps, not least because he had saved her ass during the troll incident.


    Will nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    That made her feel a little better.


    Sam decided that her arms were too weak to operate at all, which forced Will to feed her. She¡¯d earned that much, with the day she¡¯d had.


    ¡°Sorry for going so hard on you right off the bat,¡± he said, feeding her a bit of mashed potato.


    ¡°No!¡± Sam said quickly. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back for my sake. I can take it.¡±


    He smiled. ¡°I figured you¡¯d say that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do better tomorrow.¡± It was a promise to herself as much as anyone else.


    * * *


    Sam was so exhausted when she went to bed that night that she forgot to feel nervous about sleeping in the same bed as Will, passed out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She felt a little better when she woke up, but her body was still a wreck.


    She did fare better during the next day of practice sparring. Made familiar with Number Three¡¯s aggressive fighting style by having it literally and thoroughly beaten into her, she was able to better anticipate his attacks. Additionally, with such a wanton focus on offense, the chimp often left gaps in his defense, letting Sam get a sharp poke in with her stick every now and then.


    The wooden sword was unfamiliar to her¡ªshe had never practiced with weapons before, so she wasn¡¯t sure what stance to keep or how to leverage her sword other than the most obvious swinging and jabbing movements. When the dowel eventually broke into two splintered halves during a clash with Number Three¡¯s mallet, she decided not to ask for a replacement. Fists and feet had always been good enough for her, so why change anything now?


    Despite her decreased range, she immediately found that her performance improved without a weapon. Focusing on slipping and weaving, she had become more fearless of the wicked mallet after feeling its sting hundreds of times at this point, and she began to be able to catch or divert it with her palms. Every once in a while, she managed to give the chimp a good solid smack in the face, which was more satisfying than she cared to admit. Maybe she would have felt bad about hitting an animal if he wasn¡¯t such a sore winner.


    Only a few rounds after she had broken her stick, in the middle of rolling away from an attack, Sam felt a flash of impressions pop into her head.


    [Congratulations! You have reached Level 2!]


    The distraction of it caused her to take a mallet to the side of the head, but Will praised her at dinner, so it was more or less worth it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel any different, though,¡± Sam said, slumped into her seat like a corpse.


    ¡°You need to wait until you fall asleep,¡± Will explained, patiently holding up a spoonful of stew for her to inch her mouth toward. ¡°Then you¡¯ll meet the Concord Ghost, and he¡¯ll let you allocate your level-up rewards.¡±


    ¡°Concord Ghost?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s like some kind of system administrator. You¡¯ll see. As far as I know he doesn¡¯t actually have a name, so people call him the Ghost.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s some kind of demon, then? Like Unger?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t think so. He might just be some kind of ethereal manifestation created by the system.¡±


    ¡°Spooky.¡±


    ¡°For Level 2, you¡¯re going to get an extra upgrade point to spend on unlocking a new passive or add a rank to an existing one. For Level 3 you¡¯ll be getting more attribute points¡ªfour instead of the usual two, mind you¡ªand it¡¯ll switch back and forth like that every other level. Ten, fifteen, and twenty are special, but you don¡¯t need to worry about that right now.¡±


    ¡°All right. Any suggestions for what I should pick?¡±


    ¡°Just don¡¯t put another rank into Tenacious.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It sucks, Sam.¡±


    ¡°What! No it doesn¡¯t! It said something about not being able to get knocked out.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, exactly. Usually something that hits you hard enough to knock you out would probably kill you outright anyway, so what¡¯s the point?¡±


    Will had no idea what he was talking about, but Sam sensed that she wasn¡¯t going to convince him of anything, so she allowed him to continue living in delusion.


    ¡°Something like Shock Absorption or Heat Resistance would probably be good options,¡± Will suggested. ¡°Shock Absorption will let you protect your internals better. Stoneskin isn¡¯t very good at mitigating concussive damage, since it''s more for diverting bladed weapons and such. Heat Resistance is good for countering Spark builds. They¡¯re quite common, so you¡¯re bound to get on the wrong end of one sooner or later. That being said, another rank in Stoneskin can¡¯t hurt either.¡±


    ¡°Got it, chief.¡±


    Sam was a little apprehensive to fall asleep that night after what Will had told her about ghosts and stuff, but she was too tired to stay awake long anyway. As soon as her eyes fell shut, they opened again, and she found herself standing in¡­ a library, of all things.


    I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve been in one of these since I was a kid, Sam thought as she took in her surroundings. I remember it used to really annoy me when Will insisted on reading all these books while I was over instead of actually hanging out. Like I was just some kind of inconvenience to him!


    She stood in the very center of a large, vaulted chamber with stone walls and thick support pillars, the intricate floor pattern running so that it converged into a circle of whirling designs right under her feet.


    Countless shelves lined the walls, filled with old volumes whose cloth-bound spines made a faded rainbow tapestry. More bookshelves covered parts of the open floor plan as well, grouped into different sections. Tall, fogged-up windows running dozens of feet from the floor almost up to the arched ceiling let in stark white light.


    Sam turned and turned, but couldn¡¯t see any doors. Wherever she was, she was stuck here.


    Directly in front of her was a help desk shaped like a crescent moon, lit by a single yellow lamp that naturally drew the eye with how washed-out everything else appeared. A tall figure stood behind the desk. Sam could not quite begin to make out its features, even as she walked closer. It was clad in dark robes tossed by a wind that did not exist, sleeves coming down past its hands, and a drawn hood plunged the face beneath into near-perfect darkness, leaving only a vague outline of a head-like silhouette visible.


    Even once she put her hands on the help desk to stare up into the person¡¯s face, she could not make out any specific features. The darkness was too complete, looking almost artificial.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Ghost, I guess,¡± Sam said.


    The figure seemed to nod almost imperceptibly.


    She held out her hand for him to shake. When he did not take it, she eventually let it drop. Sighing, she went on. ¡°All right, so what do I do here?¡±


    The Ghost waved a voluminous sleeve, and a large tome appeared in the air between them, causing Sam to jump back when it thumped onto the desk. It opened on its own with a crackling of ancient leather, revealing pages that at first appeared blank, but began to form symbols in ink that gradually darkened.


    [Choose.]


    The instruction buzzed around inside her skull as well as on the page, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Before she was able to ask what she was supposed to choose, exactly, the squiggles in the book continued to shift, forming letters she was able to read. It was a list of abilities much like the one Unger had presented her with in the Tower, and as she flipped the pages she found that it continued on for a while, before abruptly terminating in the middle of a page.


    Sam could probably have spent the whole night reading over the abilities and their descriptions, but she didn¡¯t see the point in worrying too much about it. Given how badly Number Three had been battering her for the past three days, she thought that something to alleviate that might be the best way to go, so she went ahead and picked one of the passives Will had suggested to her; Shock Absorption.


    Shock Absorption (_)


    Tier: 3.


    Requirements: Builder, Entertainer, or Laborer.


    Type: Constant.


    Description: Your body is better equipped to withstand impacts and concussive forces. Suitable for work in hazardous environments or around heavy equipment.


    She placed her finger over the entry on the page, and looked to the Ghost. He inclined his head slightly, and Sam was flashbanged with another message, arriving with the same suddenness as the others.


    [Ability selection accepted.]


    [Goodbye.]


    Right. So much for customer service, I guess.


    Before Sam could so much as wave a farewell, the library seemed to collapse in on itself, walls and ceiling drawn toward her in distorted spaghetti strings until it was all a mess of color and light. It closed in on her, enfolded her, wrapped her up like a mummy, and darkened until everything was black.

 Chapter 21 - Aint That a Kick in the Head

    Will


    Will felt a little bit bad about throwing Sam in the deep end without giving her much time to acclimate¡ªhowever, as he had expected, it didn¡¯t take her very long to rise to the challenge.


    He made sure to remove himself from the process as much as possible. He wanted her to figure things out on her own, so she wouldn¡¯t get into the habit of relying on him to solve everything for her. There would come a time when she would be expected to achieve great things, and she couldn¡¯t do that while clinging to his apron strings.


    Number One¡ªthe only one of the chimps he really trusted to give an accurate account¡ªcontinued to provide updates on Sam¡¯s progress. Mongrel also added his own commentary at times, but Will found his word a good deal less reputable than that of his servant.


    Will actually did have a fair bit of work to get done if he wanted to finish the next batch of ointment in time for Mongrel to hand it off to the city merchants by the appointed date. That specific ointment of calendula and comfrey was one of his more popular products, mostly on account of the fact that it was a good topical remedy for all sorts of STD infections. Needless to say, diseases of that nature that ran absolutely rampant in a squalid cesspit like Sheerhome. Mixing and Preparing batches of the same bland, whitish paste each day was not exactly inspired work, but at least it netted him a steady income.


    Despite his commitments, Will could not help but sit down with the little audience that gathered on the porch to watch Sam on the morning of the third day. Apparently, she had spent her Level 2 upgrade point on Shock Absorption, which was probably the best choice.


    The rest of the chimps were also gathered to watch, along with their master. Even Nyx was there, offering insincere encouragements to the challenger while wearing a mocking sneer.


    Number Four was the only one not in attendance. Will asked Mongrel about it, but the strange little man just cracked a secretive smirk and tapped the side of his nose.


    That bastard¡¯s planning something, isn¡¯t he? Will thought warily. He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know what it was.


    Sam¡¯s body was a patchwork of welts and bruises under her clothes at this point. One of her eyes had nearly swollen shut, while the other was completely bloodshot. The cream he had applied to take away the swelling last night had only helped a little.


    Despite the extreme punishment she had taken, she did not let it slow her at all, nor did it stop her from cracking a big grin and sketching out a stiff bow for her audience.


    Number Three was gibbering and screaming and pounding his mallet on the ground, impatient to get started with the thrashing. Will halted the proceedings, however, by calling Sam over to have a word with her.


    ¡°You¡¯re not using the training weapon I gave you,¡± he observed.


    Sam clapped her hands together, empty except for the bloody bandages she had wrapped around them, and gave a sheepish laugh. ¡°Yeah, sorry¡ªI kinda broke it.¡±


    ¡°Mongrel can make you another one, you know.¡±


    ¡°Of course I can,¡± Mongrel agreed. ¡°Number One, make her another stick.¡±


    The old chimp shot his master a sour look, but began to rise all the same. Mongrel immediately flopped onto his side to spread out across the spot Number One had occupied, letting out a contented sigh.


    ¡°Oh, thanks, but it¡¯s all right!¡± Sam replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m into all this sword business. My hands work just fine for me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you need more practice,¡± Will admonished. ¡°There are going to be people out there who want to make you very dead, and they¡¯re not going to be using wooden weapons. You don¡¯t want to walk into that kind of fight with just your fists and a can-do attitude, trust me.¡±


    Sam¡¯s smile took on a playful edge, and her eyes twinkled despite how messed-up they were. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see who¡¯s right eventually, then.¡± She turned, and strutted back out into the yard without waiting for a reply.


    ¡°Stubborn,¡± Will sighed, rubbing at his bad eye.


    Mongrel, who had taken on the role of referee, whistled sharply to signal the start of the first bout. The two fighters ran at each other, clashed, and danced apart again. The difference made by Sam¡¯s new passive became evident almost immediately when she took a hard knock on the head and only stumbled slightly from the blow without breaking her stride. She retaliated with an uppercut that caught Number Three on the chin and sent him reeling.


    ¡°She¡¯s got a hard noggin, I¡¯ll give her that,¡± Mongrel hummed approvingly.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s not too hard when there¡¯s nothing but rocks and protein powder in there,¡± Will grumbled, though his tone was no-less fond.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The chimps started oohing and aahing and signing rapidly to each other once Sam got their brother on the back foot, turning his weapon aside with a palm or an elbow whenever he tried to bring it to bear, and following up with cautious but steady retaliations of punches and kicks to keep him reeling.


    Number Three screamed in frustration. He pivoted on his back foot, refusing to retreat any further, and Sam caught him with a jab that snapped his head back. The chimp came back with a one-handed downward swing that Sam easily sidestepped, moving in for a grapple.


    But Will caught the signs Number Three was weaving with his free hand. When the mallet hit the ground, a web of cracks shot through the earth, and it shook and shattered into fine pieces. Sam slipped on the suddenly treacherous ground with a yelp, and Number Three brought his weapon back up to catch her on the chin with a triumphant roar.


    Still struggling to keep her footing, Sam toppled onto her back, and then the chimp was on top of her. The next minute consisted of fairly one-sided whaling until Mongrel declared that the bout was over and instructed the fighters to reset. Sam rolled to her feet, spat blood, and trotted over to her side of the yard, a whole new constellation of bruises already darkening to join the rest. Her face had taken on a grimly determined set, but she still clung to a stubborn smile.


    Sam had always been good at getting herself into fights, and it had always pissed people off the way she could take a hit to the face¡ªor three, or ten¡ªand still be grinning like an idiot.


    Will thought it was perhaps her most admirable trait.


    Now that Sam was aware of Number Three¡¯s Demolish trick, she fought more cautiously in the second bout. It was also a near thing, but ended in much the same as the first. It was in the third bout that Sam actually knocked the mallet out of Number Three¡¯s hand with a well-placed kick and snaked past the baffled chimp¡¯s grasp, had him on the ground before he even thought to resist. Grappling a chimp looked far more awkward than doing it to a person, given their mismatched anatomies, but she managed it regardless, latched to the chimp¡¯s back while locking down one of his arms in an outstretched position, her legs wrapped around his torso.


    Number Three screamed. He refused to give up, even as Sam pried his arm further and further back. Will expected he would hear a snap any moment. The chimp, who had clearly never practiced the fine art of grappling, had no idea how to get out of the hold she had put him in, and could only thrash uselessly.


    The bout was over at this point.


    ¡°Heads up, kid!¡± Mongrel cried out of nowhere, laughing at something no one could see.


    Until a small streak zipped through the air from behind the barn and cracked Sam in the temple, knocking her sideways. Deflected off her dome, an arrow blunted with a ball of rags spun off through the air.


    Number Three took advantage of Sam¡¯s momentary lapse by wriggling free of her grip. While she was still trying to get up, rubbing at the side of her head in confusion, Number Three had fetched his fallen mallet and put it to use on Sam¡¯s chin like a golf club.


    Number Four peeked his head out from the corner of the barn, grinning big, and ducked back into concealment.


    ¡°Mongrel¡­¡± Will sighed.


    The bastard in question smiled innocently, propped up on one elbow. ¡°It¡¯s for her own good, you know. In a real fight, she¡¯s got to keep her eyes peeled, not just on the guy she happens to be fighting.¡±


    ¡°You could have at least warned her to be on her toes.¡±


    ¡°I guess so. But that would have spoiled the surprise, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Sam fared worse after that, worn down by repeated thrashings. She clung desperately to that famous grin of hers, but it began to look more and more like a pained grimace with each passing bout. Will didn¡¯t like watching it very much, and he called an end to the training sometime after midday to give her a break for the day.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t my idea, you know,¡± he murmured while checking over her wounds on the porch once everyone else had cleared out, cleaning dirt and gravel out of any scrapes he found with a wet cloth. ¡°You would have won that match if Mongrel hadn¡¯t played dirty.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Sam replied in her sunny voice. ¡°He taught me something, so I¡¯m happy he did it like that.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d you learn? Never trust the ugly ones?¡±


    She giggled, then winced when it exacerbated one of her countless hurts. ¡°That too.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Keep my eyes open.¡±


    ¡°Not bad. You know, maybe it is a good lesson to learn quickly. In the Frontier, no one ever fights fair. You fight fair, you get dead.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty harsh.¡±


    Will shrugged, removing the lid from a pot of ointment to smear over her bruises, making sure to keep it clear of any open wounds. ¡°It is what it is. No point whining over reality¡ªyou just learn to deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Is everyone really like that here?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    ¡°Is there no one who can do anything about it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying.¡±


    Sam smiled at him, then nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good. I¡¯ll make sure to get better at this quick so I can start helping you.¡±


    ¡°I know you will.¡±


    Will pulled up the rear of Sam¡¯s tunic. She winced when the cold ointment touched her tender skin, but slowly relaxed as he proceeded to rub a thick layer of it up the defined muscles of her back, trying to softly massage some knots out at the same time.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± Will said.


    ¡°That¡¯s new,¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°Hilarious. Just listen. You did well today, and I think you could use a bit of a break. I was thinking I could take you into Sheerhome tomorrow, give you the grand tour. If you¡¯d like that, I mean. Like I said, it¡¯s not much of a tourist destination, and it probably stinks worse than anything you¡¯ve ever smelled, and there¡¯s pickpockets everywhere, but¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°Change of pace, at least.¡±


    Sam looked back over her shoulder with big eyes and a huge grin. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said it wasn¡¯t a good idea?¡±


    Will sighed. ¡°It probably isn¡¯t. But it doesn¡¯t feel right to keep you cooped up here either, with no sense of what¡¯s going on outside this farm, and I thought of a way to make it work.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? How?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just have to wear a disguise.¡± Reluctantly finishing his rub-down, Will pulled her tunic back down and washed his hands in the water basin sitting next to him.


    ¡°A disguise?¡± Sam asked doubtfully, and spun to face him. ¡°You¡¯re embarrassed to be seen with me now, is that it?¡±


    Will laughed. ¡°Can you blame me?¡± He held up a pacifying hand at her indignant expression. ¡°Joking, joking. It¡¯s nothing like that, it¡¯s just¡­ There¡¯s a lot of politics involved in this place. I¡¯m too high-profile to blend in on the street, and if anyone spots me with a freshie Laborer that the lord doesn¡¯t know about, people are going to start asking questions I can¡¯t answer.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you want the lord to find out about me?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m going to depose him,¡± Will said with a wry grin, ¡°and you¡¯re my secret weapon.¡±

 Chapter 22 - The City of Dreams and Shit (Mostly Shit)

    Sam


    Once Will told the others about the plan to visit Sheerhome, it was soon agreed that they would all go together, chimps included. Mongrel explained that he was due a run to the city, meaning it was just as well that he came along. He said it was safer to travel in a group anyway, which Sam could well believe after her encounter with the troll.


    No one knew why Nyx decided to come along, but she was actually dressed decently for once and wasn¡¯t making a fuss of herself as she rode in the back of Mongrel¡¯s wagon while they traveled the sinuous path leading to the city, so Sam was content to simply ignore her.


    Only Number One had stayed behind to care for the animals and make sure that no bandits tried making off with any valuables. He was too old and tired to travel much anymore, he explained through Mongrel, and he had experienced more of Sheerhome than he would like anyway. Sam had been surprised to find him reading a book in the living room before they left, wearing a pair of adorable reading glasses on the bridge of his flat nose, and had to wonder just how smart those chimps were, exactly.


    She kept her head on a swivel while wandering alongside the wagon, eyeing the trees for signs of trolls. Will insisted that she was unlikely to see any more, since, as he explained: ¡°They¡¯re actually quite rare, you know. You were lucky to run into one in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Lucky?¡± Sam asked with an incredulous laugh. ¡°I thought I was going to shit myself at the time.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re going to see anything, it¡¯d probably be grinners,¡± Will continued in a light tone, his hand on the hilt of the sheathed saber on his hip. ¡°They¡¯ve been all over the place lately.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, kid!¡± Mongrel shouted from up ahead. ¡°Diregulls are the most common, obviously.¡±


    ¡°Along the coast, maybe. How many diregulls have you seen in the woods?¡±


    ¡°Oh, plenty. Since Brimstone started fishing more slaves off the Shore, the damn things don¡¯t get as many easy cadavers, so they¡¯ve had to move further inland to find food.¡±


    Will didn¡¯t offer any resistance to that, settling into thoughtful silence, which Mongrel took as him winning the argument.


    Sam, for one, did not have any desire to learn about either ¡®diregulls¡¯ or ¡®grinners¡¯, whatever they were. She was worried that Will would begin a lecture on the topic, considering how he liked to explain things at length, but luckily he let the matter drop. To bookend the subject, Mongrel said: ¡°Either way, you don¡¯t need to worry about anything sneaking up on us while little Willie¡¯s around. He¡¯s got ways of making sure that kind of thing doesn¡¯t happen.¡±


    At a questioning look from Sam, Will shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got a skill called Detect that lets me spot things from a distance. With my range doubled by divine vow, and another passive called Extension of Self that doubles it again, I can see pretty far out. I¡¯ve been pulsing it periodically, so you can be sure that we¡¯re safe for now.¡± He held up his arm, showing that several of his AP crystals were dark from being used up.


    Before they made it out of the woods, Will had Sam roll up the left sleeve of her tunic. Apparently, it was considered suspicious to go about a public space with your left sleeve down, since it implied that you wanted to hide either your Profession or your AP crystals. Seeing someone roll down their sleeve usually meant that they were about to engage in some form of illicit activity, so he warned her to look out for it.


    They left the woods without incident a little before noon, with the chimps jumping down from the trees they had been swinging among to join the others on the path.


    A wide stretch of cultivated land extended out to both north and south, a patchwork of yellow fields criss-crossed with paths and irrigation ditches and low walls of stacked-up stones that served as boundary lines between properties. The occasional farmhouse dotted the land, as did the occasional moving herd of sheep.


    Wooden watchtowers stood evenly spaced just beyond the edges of the cultivated land, manned by men in chain armor and bright-red livery. The structures looked a little too much like the ones the slavers used for Sam to feel comfortable around them, but Will assured her that they were garrisoned by the lord¡¯s militia, who were only concerned with keeping the farmlands safe from monsters and bandits.


    They were never stopped by any of the militiamen, who recognized Mongrel as a frequent visitor, and a few of them even joked with him from their posts on the tower walkways as they passed. No one seemed to pick up on Will¡¯s presence, however, since he was wearing his ingenious disguise. It consisted of a large bandage worn over the left side of his face to cover the tell-tale stitched-up eye that people knew him by, along with wearing slightly grubbier clothes than usual. If anyone noticed the number of crystals adorning his arm, they made no mention of it.


    Once beyond the watchtowers, they did not encounter many more people as they journeyed through the farmland. The few they did see out in their fields usually straightened from their labor to stare suspiciously after the travelers until they were completely gone from sight, not a word in greeting. Friendly bunch.


    It was not long before a high stone wall came into view in the distance over the rolling landscape, with toothy crenellations and edged towers that jutted out at even intervals. The path they followed began to widen as they neared the wall and eventually fell in alongside it, traveling perpendicular.


    ¡°The Sheerhome wall is probably the only major building project completed in the city after the Deicide,¡± Will explained, walking over to the monolithic stone structure and allowing his hand to trail along it. ¡°Brimstone spent a lot of money and even brought in Builders from other cities to have it completed. Keeps out the monsters that get past the watchtowers, for the most part.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    They walked for what seemed like forever before they finally reached the wall¡¯s northern edge, and swung back around west to get onto an actual paved road that would take them to Sheerhome¡¯s main gates.


    Sam¡¯s first impression of the city was not good. A huge, sprawling slum of huts and shanties grew out of the shadow of the walls like black mold, and they were forced to travel through it to reach the main gates. It was apparently known as the Outside. It was filled with undesirables of all sorts, from beggars to invalids to those afflicted with infectious diseases, the latter of whom were crammed into overfull sick homes. Small packs of emaciated dogs roved the labyrinthine streets, and there were even mean-looking wild pigs covered in coarse bristles that mucked about in the dirt and charged at anyone who got too close.


    Will saw Sam eyeing a poor fellow who had no arms and only one leg, and seemed to have lost his lower jaw as well, tongue hanging limply onto his neck as he slumped against a building that didn¡¯t look so solid itself. ¡°Stump shaker, they call those,¡± Will said, nodding toward the man. ¡°A few of the city¡¯s brothels have demons working in them. Some get hopelessly addicted to their¡­ services. Most of the demons take cash payment, but when you have no money left, they will happily accept your flesh as a substitute. And they¡¯ll keep on taking it until all that¡¯s left is a wretch like that.¡± There was no pity in his voice at all; only disgust. Apparently he did not see the demonic contracts he had made as being in the same realm.


    ¡°That¡¯s awful,¡± Sam gasped.


    ¡°A fair trade, dear,¡° Nyx said from the back of the wagon with a lazy yawn. ¡°They know the price of what they''re buying, and they pay it smiling.¡±


    ¡°Quiet, demon,¡° Will admonished, ¡°before you start giving Mongrel ideas.¡±


    The man in question muttered an insincere prayer to the dead goddess and kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead.


    ¡°See that?¡± Will continued, motioning to his own neck, then back to the unfortunate man. Sam saw what he was trying to point out; a line of AP crystals running at an awkward diagonal down the man¡¯s neck, with his Profession symbol taking up one exposed shoulder. ¡°If you lose your left arm for any reason, the Concord will replace your sheet on your right arm. If you lose your right arm, too, it will show up on a random part of your body.¡±


    Sam could not muster any enthusiasm over Will¡¯s random factoid while looking at the poor man. Looking around, she saw many more like him, and swallowed as she passed by.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point in giving them money,¡± Will said with a warning look. ¡°They¡¯ll only crawl back to the brothels with it. And if they¡¯re not let in there because of their appearance, they¡¯ll spend it on drugs instead.¡±


    Sam nodded somberly, and averted her eyes as they passed on.


    The Outside was also the place where the city dumped most of its garbage, and she watched wheelbarrows full of stinking refuse be unloaded straight into streams and ditches, where giant midden piles had formed. More than once did she see people actually digging into those piles for anything edible or useful, covered to their knees and elbows in human excrement and worse.


    Will had been right. The smell of rot and sour piss was so strong that Sam could almost taste it. She gagged more than once, and Will eyed her sympathetically as they hurried along.


    Jesus, I didn¡¯t think it would be this bad! There¡¯s got to be something that can be done for these people, somehow.


    The city¡¯s main gate was a large portal with a raised portcullis that made a row of badly rusted iron teeth along the rounded top. People streamed in and out alongside wagons and beasts, and three liveried militiamen made no attempt to halt the flow, leaning heavily on their halberds as folk passed around them.


    The crowding was even worse once they actually got inside the city. The street narrowed in, with tall buildings shouldering each other for space, built so close that she was not sure a person could squeeze through some of the alleys even if they went sidelong. Sam instinctively reached for Will to avoid losing him in the crush, and he took her hand, holding it firmly. It made her feel a little better.


    The area immediately inside the walls was crowded with inns. Signboards swung in the stale breeze, often adorned with crude names and even cruder drawings that most commonly referred to genitalia in one way or another. Based on this, it seemed to her that the people in this place shared their senses of humor with ornery sailors and ten-year-old boys.


    This part of the city was known as Topside. While extremely crowded, at least it was not nearly as squalid as the Outside had been. Once they got past the double rows of inns, they reached a large market square lined with shops and stalls, then residential streets with fine, glass-windowed townhouses for the well-to-do and shabbier tenements for the slightly less fortunate.


    At an intersection, Mongrel bid them farewell, explaining that he was going to sell off the goods he had brought, and went off down another path taking his mule and his chimps and his demon with him, looking a little like some sort of itinerant freakshow.


    ¡°And where is it we¡¯re going, exactly?¡± Sam asked, sticking to Will¡¯s shoulder like glue and refusing to release her cramping hold on his hand for one moment.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d show you some of the sights,¡± Will replied, speaking loudly to be heard over the bustle. ¡°It¡¯s nothing impressive, so don¡¯t get too excited, but you might as well see it while we¡¯re here.¡±


    Sam nodded. She had no problem letting him take the lead.


    They traveled for maybe half an hour down a very gradual decline before catching sight of a tall building whose steeply slanted roofs might have once shone golden, but were now a tarnished brown.


    ¡°The church,¡± Will explained once they got to the small square surrounding the building, which was nearly abandoned. ¡°People used to be a little bit more pious back in the Better Times, and they would come here to worship the goddess Era. But, well, then she went and got murdered, and most people don¡¯t see any point praying to a dead god.¡±


    Piles of refuse littered the area outside the church¡¯s great iron-banded doors, and partially scrubbed-out graffiti marred the walls, but Sam did think she could hear a mournful chant echoing from inside. ¡°Are there people in there?¡±


    Will nodded. ¡°That¡¯d be the resurrectionists. They think that if they pray hard enough, for long enough, the goddess will come back to life and reward all the true believers for their faith.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°Needless to say, no one really takes them seriously. They have to travel in groups when they go out into the city, or they get robbed of everything they own. The guards usually don¡¯t bother to do anything about it, because they find the resurrectionists just as annoying as everybody else.¡±


    ¡°Everything in this city seems so¡­ sad,¡± Sam said.


    Will chuckled joylessly. ¡°Told you, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    They moved on. Only a few streets down from the old church was an even larger building, a complex of domed towers and ornamental struts and blocky annexes that looked just as, if not more rough than the previous landmark.


    ¡°This is the library,¡± Will said. ¡°It¡¯s actually a pretty useful place. I learned at least half of what I know about the Frontier from the books in there.¡±


    ¡°All that is a library?¡± Sam asked, frowning. It could cover a whole city block by itself.


    ¡°Well, it used to be an academy in the Better Times, but no one really cares so much about higher learning anymore. You probably won¡¯t get a lot of time to use it when the average life expectancy is like five years.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Fletcher is the guy who runs the library now. I think he used to teach at the academy, but he¡¯s the only one of the faculty that¡¯s left.¡±


    So sad.


    ¡°Fletcher¡¯s cool, though. He¡¯s actually one of the highest-level people in the city.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s really interesting, Will.¡±


    Sam did not ask to go inside.

 Chapter 23 - The City of Dreams and Shit (Mostly Shit) [2]

    Sam


    After the library, Will took her southwest to a more spacious section of the city, and pointed to a large, walled-off quarter that covered the sides of a tall hill, with a weathered stone fort standing at its peak.


    ¡°That keep there is where the lord stays,¡± he said, indicating the stone structure. Moving his finger down, he pointed out another large building just below it. ¡°And that one is the militia headquarters. The rest of the men are housed in this fenced-off bit here, and only people personally approved by Lord Brimstone are allowed to go inside. He¡¯s a pretty paranoid fellow.¡±


    Large banners flapped from the keep¡¯s leaning towers, and Sam shuddered when she saw that they depicted a burning man in blood-red on a field of black.


    ¡°Yeah, he likes his fire, too,¡± Will elaborated, noticing Sam¡¯s unease. ¡°He has a habit of burning people who inconvenience him at the stake.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re going to stop him, right?¡±


    He threw her a sharp glance and spoke in a low voice. ¡°Don¡¯t talk about that here. Not anywhere except the farm. Understand?¡±


    Sam nodded. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said, much more warmly. He squeezed her hand, and turned them around to head away from the lord¡¯s quarter.


    Spotting a large pillar of black smoke rising over the buildings in the distance, Sam pointed it out. ¡°Is that a fire?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Probably. Most of these buildings are made of wood, and they''re squeezed pretty tight together, so fires are common. It''ll probably be all right, though. The fireman''ll get to it sooner or later.¡±


    Sam raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°The fireman?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±


    ¡°As in just one?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm. The guards are technically supposed to deal with fire suppression as well, but they''re usually not too keen on putting their hides on the line. Luckily, Sheerhome''s one and only volunteer firefighter has them covered for the most part. They call him Captain.¡±


    ¡°Is he a good guy, then?¡±


    Will chuckled. ¡°By Frontier standards, he''s a damn saint. I have no idea why he does what he does¡ªI don''t think anyone pays him or anything¡ªbut he keeps on doing it, and it''s not like anyone''s about to stop him. He''s probably the closest thing Sheerhome has to a real-life hero. I think he might have a couple screws loose, not unlike a certain someone I know.¡±


    He did not need to look in Sam''s direction for her to feel called out. ¡°He sounds cool. Do you think we''ll ever get to meet him?¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but not today. And before you ask, no, we are not going to stand next to a row of burning buildings just so you can get some other knucklehead''s autograph. Now let''s go.¡±


    Sam didn''t argue. She was feeling exhausted already, so she was overjoyed to learn that he was taking them to a tavern for a bite to eat. It sat on the eastern bank of the river that split the city down the middle; a squat two-story establishment. A signboard above the door read ¡®The Lucky Lady¡¯, and had a drawing of a woman with her breasts out crudely painted on it.


    I bet Nyx would love this place. Mongrel too, for that matter.


    The common room inside was fairly quiet at this time of day, with only a few regulars silently nursing mugs of ale in their own separate corners. It was dark and drab and low-ceilinged¡ªand reeked of smoke besides¡ªbut Will¡¯s tired face was creased by a genuine smile as he approached the counter on the right-hand side, manned by a fellow with a bald head and a round belly. The cauldron dominating his Profession symbol marked him as a Cook, just like Will, and seven AP crystals studded his arm.


    ¡°What can I get you, sir?¡± the man asked. Then he looked up, and he let out a sudden laugh that made his rosy cheeks quiver. ¡°Oh! If it isn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Will shook his head, and the man cut himself off, licking his lips as he glanced about the place. ¡°Ah,¡± he said in a low, conspiratorial tone. ¡°It¡¯s like that, is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like that,¡± Will replied conversationally.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be wanting a private room, then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. And food for two¡ªwith bread¡ªand some fruit juice. And¡­ whatever¡¯s for dessert, I guess.¡± He jerked his head in Sam¡¯s direction. ¡°This one¡¯s a Laborer. You know how it is.¡±


    The fat man laughed. Sam didn¡¯t understand the joke. He looked her way and seemed like he wanted to ask something else, then shook his head and ushered the two of them along instead, taking them through to a back room with a table and several chairs.


    Sam breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the door closed behind them and they finally had some privacy away from the crushing throngs of city folk.


    Will took off his head bandage and threw it on the table before taking a seat. He scratched aggressively at his bad eye as though he had worked up a debt of itchiness while keeping it covered.


    Sam took the chair opposite. ¡°Did you know that man?¡± she asked, looking back at the closed door.


    ¡°Yep. That was Joe Crag. He¡¯s one of the only people in this city who doesn¡¯t hate my guts.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s a friend?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡ªa good friend. We can trust him.¡±


    Sam smiled. ¡°Okay!¡±


    Someday, she really needed to find out why people hated Will so much. It didn¡¯t make any sense to her. Well, he was a bit of a know-it-all, and he could be rude sometimes, but anyone who talked to him for more than five minutes could tell that he was a sweet little guy under it all.


    The room had no windows, which gave them more privacy, but also meant that it was only lit by a fire crackling on the hearth set into one wall. With the mild weather outside, the fire made the room feel hot. ¡°Have they not made any lightbulbs here yet?¡± Sam asked, realizing she hadn¡¯t seen any thus far.


    ¡°Sadly not,¡± Will replied. ¡°Electricity works differently here than it does on Earth. It¡¯s unpredictable, and doesn¡¯t like to play nice. No one¡¯s been able to produce any electrical technology so far¡ªit¡¯s kind of the holy grail of Artisans everywhere. On the bright side, we do have guns.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, although they¡¯re pretty rare. I own a rifle myself, actually.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm.¡±


    ¡°Sweeeeet. You¡¯ll have to show it off sometime.¡±


    The fat tavern keeper returned maybe twenty minutes later, carrying a pair of platters with puffy chicken pies and big mugs of juice and little honey-glazed cakes. Sam dug right in, eating to dispel some of the nervous tension she had built up while traversing the city.


    It was good. Not quite as special as Will¡¯s cooking, but it was clearly made by someone who knew what they were doing. Will didn¡¯t want his pastry, so Sam was happy to dispose of it for him.


    Joe Crag pulled out a chair for himself and stayed to talk with Will as they ate. Sam was too busy with her food to pay attention to most of it, but their conversation seemed to be of a light, friendly nature, so she didn''t mind having him there. Sam only perked up when the topic turned to her.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you pick this one up, then?¡± Joe asked, jerking a thumb toward Sam. ¡°Fish her out yourself?¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°You could say that,¡± Will replied, sounding a little cagey. Maybe he didn¡¯t trust this Joe Crag quite as much as he claimed.


    ¡°What are you going to do with her?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s just an extra set of hands for the farm right now. There¡¯s always work to be done around there, and when she¡¯s got some levels on her she¡¯ll be good security for expeditions and such.¡± He tapped his Profession symbol significantly, which had a miniature version of the Explorer¡¯s compass encroaching on a corner of the Cook''s cauldron. ¡°Haven¡¯t gotten to travel much yet after branching into Explorer, so I might be able to mine a couple of levels there out of that.¡±


    Joe let out a boisterous laugh. He seemed to laugh a lot. ¡°You sure have your sights set high! What level are you going to stop, exactly?¡±


    Will shrugged. ¡°Thirty, I guess.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re mad!¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°So, how come you¡¯re here on the sly?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want Brimstone to catch wind of my new hire just yet.¡±


    Joe glanced between Will and Sam through small eyes trapped between walls of fat. ¡°It¡¯s not too healthy to keep secrets from our good leader¡ªyou know that, right?¡±


    Will leaned back in his chair, doing a fair job at looking unconcerned. ¡°It''s all in hand.¡±


    Joe shook his head. He turned his attention to Sam and said: ¡°Girl, do you know what he¡¯s getting you into here?¡±


    ¡°No idea,¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°That¡¯s not very fair of him. Doing anything that might displease Brimstone is dangerous.¡±


    ¡°He did actually mention that.¡±


    ¡°Lethally dangerous, girl. I can¡¯t overstate it. The flames cooked what was left of his brain years ago¡ªthere''s only madness inside that ugly noggin now.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that.¡±


    Joe blinked.


    Sam met his gaze firmly, even though it was a struggle to keep her swollen left eye open. ¡°I¡¯m going to help Will however I can. I don¡¯t need details to know that.¡±


    ¡°Some loyalty,¡± the Cook said, whistling through fleshy lips. ¡°Girls go crazy for that evil eye of yours, eh?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Will replied vaguely, what sounded like the start of a sentence tapering off into nothing.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t get her killed, man.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t. Besides, she¡¯s too tough to let a little thing like dying keep her down.¡±


    Sam hid a blush behind her mug, draining the rest of her juice in one long draught.


    After finishing their late lunch, Sam felt a little more prepared to handle the city again. Will donned his disguise and took them west, over one of the arched bridges that bore traffic back and forth across the river. Pointing in the northward direction, he explained that the entertainment district known as Darkside was that way, where gaming houses and brothels and fighting pits could be found. Once he was finished with his deliveries, Mongrel would almost certainly find his way there. Sam was intrigued by the mention of fighting pits, but Will firmly maintained that they didn¡¯t want to go there.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to avoid either of us getting stabbed today, if I can,¡± he grumbled in conclusion, and would not discuss the matter further.


    Instead they turned off to the south until they hit the sharp rock face that tumbled precipitously down into the slate-gray ocean over a hundred feet below. They began to descend a set of steep switchbacks cut from the stone that led down and down, past buildings that jutted out from the slope, clinging desperately to dubious moorings like ticks on the side of a dog¡¯s belly.


    This part of the city was aptly named Cliffside, connected by stairs and walkways and rope bridges and cargo pulleys in a mess of habitation even more confusing than the Outside slum, if not quite as squalid.


    Sam did not feel too sure about stepping off the switchback¡ªshe was reasonably confident that the stone would not give out underfoot, but she did not have the same faith in the slapdash wood-and-hemp craftsmanship that held the district barely lashed together. But Will wanted her to see something, and pulled her along until she was tiptoeing carefully on creaking walkways and scurrying over swaying rope bridges, apologizing at every hard-eyed stranger she nearly bumped into.


    The buildings ended up wrapping all the way around the cliff-face and into the deep gorge that the river had dug into the rock, which split the raised earth all the way to the sea. It was dark beneath those narrow walls, with only a sliver of blue sky overhead. The web of schizophrenic habitation became a bit more orderly here, houses cut deep into the rock with doors of solid metal. Most of them were banks, Will informed her. Apparently they had those in the Frontier.


    ¡°It¡¯s a precarious business since thieving crews can use Demolish to break through most defenses a banker might throw up,¡± Will explained, ¡°but thick walls are at least better than thin ones, and those hoping for an easy mark will find that the security personnel inside are rather enthusiastic in their duties.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some money here myself. In¡­¡± He pointed to an establishment with a sign hanging from its stone facade that read ¡®Watson, Watson, and Watson¡¯. ¡°That one. None of them are named Watson, so I don¡¯t know where they got the name from. Maybe they just tried to think of something a fancy Earth bank should be called.¡±


    Sam clung to the worryingly flimsy railing. ¡°How much money do you have?¡± she asked, trying hard to keep her knees from knocking together.


    ¡°Enough.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re rich.¡±


    ¡°Well.¡±


    ¡°You are, right?¡±


    ¡°Relatively speaking, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I will be expecting some expensive gifts in the future.¡± The manufactured haughtiness in her voice was somewhat undercut by the shivering terror of suddenly plunging a hundred feet down, leading to a watery death by drowning or a quicker one by dashing her skull open on the rocks.


    ¡°What¡¯s up with this writing, by the way?¡± she asked, looking around at the signs advertising the various establishments around her. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like English, and somehow it doesn¡¯t feel like I¡¯m speaking English, either. Ever since I signed that contract¡­¡±


    Will nodded. ¡°Your instincts are correct. When you get access to the Concord, it scrubs away whatever languages you knew before and implants you with a new one, standard across the whole Frontier so that everyone can understand each other, wherever they came from originally. The One Tongue, it¡¯s called. You get speaking and writing for free, but if you want the hand-talk version, you¡¯ve got to learn it the hard way.¡±


    Sam groaned, rubbing at her head. ¡°That¡¯s so trippy. Why¡¯s this place always got to find new ways of weirding me out?¡±


    Blessedly, Will soon took them out of the dangling financial area, and they continued down the Cliffside district until they reached sea level, where large wooden platforms and jetties had been built into the narrow strip of land to make space for moored ships that bobbed on the water¡ªtheir furled sails a forest of vertical poles dressed in many colors¡ªas well as warehouses and cargo depots and many little stalls where vendors hawked a variety of goods in loud, grating voices. This part of the city was, of course, named Seaside.


    At the end of a sturdy walkway, a line of folk chained by hand and foot were led up the gangplank of a large vessel by a bullish man wielding a nasty-looking cudgel. Those people were slaves¡ªhad to be. Sam swallowed, knowing that she might easily have been one of them.


    Will took her off to one side toward a line of warehouses squeezed tight together, and Sam was about to ask where they were going when she suddenly found herself standing next to Mongrel, who was arguing with a merchant and making frequent stabbing gestures toward his goods, trying to convince the man of their superior quality.


    The produce he had brought was already gone from the wagon, with only the small crates of healing supplies Will had provided remaining. The chimps were off buying seafood skewers at one of the stalls, and Sam noted with some satisfaction that Nyx was missing entirely.


    The two men appeared to reach some kind of understanding, and money changed hands, but neither one looked particularly happy.


    ¡°Rotten fucking bastard son of a sow¡¯s squirting anus,¡± Mongrel muttered under his breath as he stalked away from the other man. He whistled his familiars over so they could begin unloading the supplies. He split his earnings with Will, who tucked the money in his pocket with a nod.


    ¡°What happened to Nyx?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Ah, who knows,¡± Mongrel replied, sucking on his discolored teeth. ¡°She just vanished on me all of a sudden. Damn woman. I hope she stays gone.¡±


    The Farmer-Builder was due to fill his now-empty wagon with things for the farm¡ªspecialty produce and ingredients for Will¡¯s tinkering that they couldn¡¯t make themselves¡ªso they left him to it and went on their way. Number Five waved to Sam in parting with a sweet little smile, which she returned with a broad grin of her own. Number Three gave her the finger when his master wasn¡¯t looking, which she decided to ignore.


    Will took her around the various dockside market stalls. Most of the presented offerings were tacky or of obviously shoddy craftsmanship. More interestingly, further out on the pier, a huge¡­ thing was being hauled out of the water. It might have been a whale, except its body was mailed in pale fish scales that shone iridescent, and its sides were lined with floppy tentacles that still twitched and squirmed despite the creature being quite dead. Multiple thick-hafted harpoons jutted from its streamlined back and bulbous head, and it was being yanked onto land by numerous metal hooks strung through its flesh, teams of bare-chested men heaving the rattling chains attached to them.


    ¡°What is that creature?¡± Sam asked, stopping to gawk. Several others did the same, but most townsfolk did not spare the odious creature a glance as they went about their business.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really know,¡± Will admitted, rubbing his bad eye through the bandage with the heel of his hand. ¡°I¡¯m not too current on my sea beast lore.¡±


    ¡°Why are there so many of them?¡±


    ¡°Monsters, you mean? Well, apparently the Frontier didn¡¯t always have them, although I haven¡¯t been around nearly long enough to know. The story goes that they appeared about twenty-five years ago just after Era¡¯s murder. They¡¯ve been spreading out from the center of the Mainland ever since, pushing us back to the coasts on almost all fronts.


    ¡°Some say the monsters are Era¡¯s dying curse on the land, to punish man for our sin. Others claim that the goddess and her angels were holding back the monsters all this time, and that they were allowed to wreak havoc once she was no longer around to protect us. There are as many theories as there are drunken fools in Sheerhome taverns to peddle them.¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It doesn¡¯t really matter. In the end, the goddess is dead and the monsters are strangling the life out of the Frontier. Those are the facts. They breed like rats, and they all harbor a mad hatred for humans, so they¡¯ll wipe us out eventually if we don¡¯t find a way to do the same to them.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to stop them?¡±


    Will smiled tiredly. He looked uncertain for a moment, then slowly nodded. ¡°Yes. Even if no one else thinks it can be done, I¡¯m going to find a way. I¡¯ll make the Frontier a place worth living in.¡±


    Sam grinned. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll be right there with you.¡± She patted him on the back¡ªa little harder than she¡¯d intended¡ªand sent him stumbling. He rubbed indignantly at his shoulder blades once he found his footing on planks slick with fish guts, but the one-eyed look he gave her held nothing but fondness, and made Sam¡¯s heart beat a little quicker.

 Chapter 24 - The City of Dreams and Shit (Mostly Shit) [3]

    Sam


    The dock workers got the strange creature out of the water and into a giant suspended harness so they could begin cutting away its parts. Purple viscera sprayed from pale tissues until it coated the men and their tools and everything surface in a good radius around them, even staining the water below the pier dark with drippings that trickled between the planks. A few parts were saved for some indeterminate use, the less valuable ones thrown wholesale into large tubs while delicate components were secured individually in fluid-filled glass jars.


    Sam eventually managed to pull herself away from the morbid sight when prodded by Will, and they continued their aimless amble through the Seaside market. She stopped in front of a stall that sold weapons, a number of display pieces laid out on a velvet-draped table. The sharp-eyed vendor nudged his goods with a pair of tongs to bring them back into perfect order after some careless shopper had upset their alignment.


    While Sam was not particularly interested in actually using them, she had to admit that some of the swords and maces and axes and daggers looked pretty sweet, the steel all buffed to a shine.


    ¡°You have a good eye, miss,¡± the vendor said conspiratorially, a man bearing the balance scales symbol of a Trader. His gaze slid from the two crystals on her arm to the fourteen on Will¡¯s without ever touching their faces. ¡°These are Enchanted goods¡ªimbued with powerful skills. I¡¯m sure we could find one that would be perfect for a Laborer like you, if the gentleman would like to make a present of it¡­?¡± He had correctly surmised that Will was the one holding the purse strings, but clearly assumed that a low-level target would be more susceptible to his sales pitch.


    ¡°Sam,¡± Will said warningly.


    Sam, not listening, bent to pick up an axe with a crescent-moon head laid out on the velvet. Will had talked about cutting a man in half at one point¡ªthis thing looked heavy enough to actually do the job.


    Will caught her by the wrist in a white-knuckled grip, and she stopped short, her fingers inches from the axe handle. Looking up, she found him staring at her with a wide-eyed intensity.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch that,¡± he said firmly.


    ¡°Why, sir¡ª¡± the vendor cut in, dry-washing spidery hands.


    Will shot him a hard glance. ¡°Stop talking.¡±


    Sam allowed herself to be pulled back from the display table, not sure what was wrong but understanding that Will thought it important.


    ¡°Those weapons are cursed,¡± he explained. The vendor opened his mouth to protest, and was silenced with a dismissive wave in parting. ¡°Picking one up, even for a short while, would probably not be good for your health.¡±


    ¡°Cursed?¡± They didn¡¯t look particularly cursed.


    They continued along the line of stalls. ¡°Yes,¡± he said once they''d put some distance between them and the object of his displeasure. ¡°Artisans are able to enchant items, imbuing them with skill effects, but it¡¯s a very tricky art. Even high-level Artisans struggle to create stable enchantments.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± She assumed he was going somewhere with this.


    ¡°Well, there is a passive called Soulbind, a rough equivalent of the Create Familiar ability that Mongrel used to bind his chimps, except for inanimate objects. With Soulbind, a person can bind a piece of themselves to an item. Aside from becoming naturally more powerful, that item gains a free enchantment slot, meaning that any skill can be inserted into it without fear of the effect being rejected, and allowing particularly talented Artisans to slot one additional skill effect into the object aside from the one granted by Soulbind.


    ¡°Slaves in the more dismal pits of the world¡ªSheerhome¡¯s own iron mine, for instance¡ªare sometimes forced by their taskmasters to take Soulbind as they level up. Their Soulbound items are then Enchanted, and when they die, those items keep their power. They can then be sold on for a mark-up, like what our good Trader friend over there was doing.


    ¡°Except a sliver of the deceased owner¡¯s soul will remain within the item. And given the invariably cruel nature of their deaths, they will do everything in their power to cause pain and misfortune for anyone unlucky enough to pick up one of these cursed items.¡± He spread his hands. ¡°Frontier capitalism at its finest.¡±


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Sam breathed. It seemed that every new thing she learned about this place was more horrifying than the last.


    With that mood dampener, they called it quits at the docks and headed back along the switchbacks. Will was badly winded before they had climbed all the way up, forced to stop and rest almost every time they came out onto a platform as the stone-cut stair turned back on itself. He complained of his lost ribs, explaining that the lack of them made it harder to breathe sometimes.


    Sam offered a hand to steady him, but he insisted on walking by himself. She worried about his health¡ªhe looked so tired all the time, and she wasn¡¯t quite sure yet how all the sacrifices he had made to the demoness were affecting him. But he didn¡¯t want to talk about it, so she let him have his way, not wanting to get him even more worked up by arguing.


    She had now seen all five districts of Sheerhome¡ªOutside, Topside, Darkside, Cliffside, and Seaside, and was in truth already sick of the place. She was eager to get back to the farm and air the rotten stench out of her clothes, but Will had another suggestion.


    ¡°We could take into an inn for the night if you want,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I know a nice one. I wanted to get you a proper wardrobe, but if we stay at an inn you can rest for tonight and we¡¯ll hit up a Tailor in the morning. You look a little peaky.¡±


    You¡¯re one to talk.


    It did sound sort of nice, though. And the prospect of being alone with Will for a whole night, without any chimps or demonesses or perverted old men to bother them, was exciting. She agreed to the plan, and Will led them east, back over one of the bridges to the other side of the river. He took them to a place called The Rosy Drake in a slightly less rowdy part of town, a three-story establishment with a main building enclosed by a walled courtyard on three sides. In keeping with the name, the building was painted a pale pink. A weathervane depicting a winged beast in flight spun around and around at the top of the tall roof.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The wide gates stood open, and a porter met them as soon as they entered the courtyard. He accepted Will¡¯s money before ushering them through into the main building, which had a spacious and well-lit common room where a few patrons diced or drank or read books. There was an Entertainer sitting on a bench near the center of the room, strumming at a guitar and accepting tips in his open instrument case. A bar at one end of the room had a well-stocked liquor shelf and a stack of ale kegs.


    ¡°This is pretty cozy,¡± Sam hummed approvingly as she looked around. ¡°Not bad at all!¡±


    They spent some time lounging in the common room to recharge after the rather strenuous city tour. Will picked out a book from one of the well-stocked bookshelves, and Sam settled onto a couch by the fireplace to nap. The whisper of pages being turned soon lulled her to sleep, and she awoke feeling good and rested when it was time for dinner, which consisted of salmon and potatoes and some kind of chunky sweetish sauce. It was not as tasty as the stuff Will made, but her nap had brought back a fearsome appetite. She consumed the big portion in minutes, then scraped the plate clean with a piece of bread.


    After dinner they lazed around a bit more. Once evening set in and the inn closed its gates for the nightly curfew they went outside into the courtyard, where a theater performance was being put on for the patrons. A crowd of perhaps two dozen gathered to watch, seated in chairs or propped against walls or leaning out of balconies from courtyard-facing rooms.


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect a masterpiece or anything,¡± Will whispered to her with a wry grin, ¡°but it might be good for a laugh anyway.¡±


    The all-Entertainer troupe, which consisted of four men and one woman, put on a performance called ¡®The War of the Stars¡¯, seemingly with full sincerity. They flipped around and shot lights from their hands and wielded painted sticks dressed up as magic swords against each other¡ªwith slightly mistimed sound effects and too-loud fake thunder sounding at the climactic bits, probably produced by some skill Sam did not know about. At the end, the protagonist murdered the black-clad villain by cutting all of his limbs off, then married his sister and lived happily ever after, explained by one of the sweaty performers during a post-climax narration.


    ¡°Um,¡± Sam said as they were leaving, headed for their room to retire for the night, ¡°did that seem a little derivative to you?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Will asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I feel like I¡¯ve¡­ seen a story just like that before.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember. It really feels like I should, but¡­ I can¡¯t think of it.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not surprising. For whatever reason, people start losing their memories of Earth the moment they arrive here in the Frontier. Only the most important stuff sticks with you, while everything else fades away into a sort of blur. People around here aren¡¯t all that creative, so the plays they put on are usually just badly misremembered stories from Earth.¡±


    ¡°That sounds kinda scary¡ªlosing all your memories like that¡­¡± She had no idea what to do with that knowledge.


    Will shrugged. ¡°You get used to it.¡±


    They entered their room, a big loft with a charmingly slanted ceiling on the top floor. A large, round window set into the middle of the back wall overlooked the river. The room had some chairs, a dresser, a wash basin, a mirror, and even a wall clock that ticked contentedly to itself. Sam noted with satisfaction that the bed taking up the back center of the room was a good bit wider than the one they shared at the farm.


    ¡°So,¡± Sam said innocently, letting the word hang. She sat down on the springy mattress and began pulling off her boots, which were hot with trapped sweat, her feet swollen and throbbing on account of her footwear being slightly too small. ¡°I guess I was one of your important memories, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sam,¡± Will said in a dull voice. ¡°That goes without saying, doesn¡¯t it?¡± He removed his bandage, then unlaced his tunic and threw it off, and Sam made sure to look away respectfully every few moments so it wouldn¡¯t seem like she was staring at his toned physique. Well, she was staring, but she didn¡¯t want it to look like she was.


    ¡°Maybe. Still nice to hear it, though. Makes a girl feel special.¡±


    ¡°All right. The only part of my past life that I remember with any clarity at all is the time I spent with you. Not everything, mind you. There are¡­ gaps. Hazy parts. But the big stuff is still there. How¡¯s that for you?¡±


    Sam flopped onto her back and let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. ¡°Feels niiice,¡± she sang, grinning big.


    Sam quickly realized that it was still a little bit too early to sleep, only about 8:30 according to the clock, and neither of them could find anything else to talk about to fill the time as Will sat down on the other end of the bed, both turned slightly away from each other. Sam was way too aware of his presence just beside her, could almost feel the warmth of his skin even though they were sitting a foot or two apart.


    Sure, they''d been sleeping in the same bed for days now, but for most of them she had been too exhausted to feel much about it one way or another. She was exhausted now, too, but somehow this felt completely different. Something about being in this room together, just the two of them. In the same room. Alone. With no one to bother them.


    And, besides¡­ a lot of people would get a hotel room to hook up with someone¡ªthat was a thing people did, right?


    Is it weird that this is the first thing on my mind? I wonder if he¡¯s thinking about it, too. She glanced his way, and found that he was glancing back, and they both looked away at the same time. Sam felt her cheeks go hot. Is that why he brought me here? Part of her hoped that was the case. An equal part of her was terrified.


    The clock on the wall was painfully loud, its ticking having taken on a distinctly mocking edge.


    After some time, Will cleared his throat. ¡°Um¡­¡± he said, managing to stutter over a two-letter word. ¡°Do you think that we should officially¡ª¡±


    ¡°Doyouwanttohavesex?¡± Sam blurted, everything tumbling out at once.


    Will produced an odd, strangled croak, then fell silent.


    Sam stared at the wall ahead of her, studying the imperfections of the white plaster with intense determination. She felt like her face was going to self-combust. Slowly, she forced herself to look over, and found that Will had his one dark eye fixed intently on her face.


    ¡°Do you want to have sex?¡± Sam repeated, more hesitantly. ¡°With me, I mean. I¡¯ve never had it before, so I thought maybe you¡­ and me¡­ we could¡­ fuuuck?¡± The last bit trailed off into a squeak.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Will replied, sounding almost comically serious. ¡°I¡¯d like that.¡±


    ¡°Wait, shit,¡± Sam hissed.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Fucking condoms, dude. Have you got some in your¡­ medieval wallet, or whatever?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you raw-dog me. And I don¡¯t trust you to pull out, either.¡±


    ¡°Shut up and listen, stupid. It¡¯s not a problem, because everyone in the Frontier is one hundred percent sterile.¡±


    ¡°What.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s in the contract you signed to gain access to the Concord. I guess Era didn¡¯t trust a bunch of barely reformed convicts to run around getting each other pregnant. And no one under eighteen gets sent to the Frontier, so that¡¯s why you haven¡¯t seen any kids around, in case you picked up on that.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°It also means you won¡¯t get your period, so I reckon that¡¯s a plus.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s neat, I guess.¡± Sam shook her head firmly. ¡°This place is so weird.¡±


    Will pressed his lips flat in a noncommittal expression. ¡°You won¡¯t hear me arguing. But the bottom line is, protection is not an issue.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Then¡­ should we¡­?¡±


    Will leaned over and kissed her, holding the back of her neck to keep her in place, catching a handful of her hair. His breath on her skin was electric, making her whole body prickle with gooseflesh.


    The rest of their clothes were awkwardly discarded one article at a time as they tried to undress without letting their lips come apart from each other. Blankets were thrown aside, pillows hastily rearranged¡­


    [And then, a girl and a boy engage in the passion of youth. But you don¡¯t need to read about that.]


    Afterward, Sam and Will lay side by side, panting and sweaty, hands intertwined, as they both stared up at the slanted ceiling.


    ¡°That was¡­¡± Will murmured, trailing off.


    ¡°Terrible,¡± Sam finished.


    ¡°Right? What the fuck happened?¡±


    ¡°I think maybe we¡¯re bad at this, Will.¡±


    ¡°Damn.¡±

 Chapter 25 - An Appointment With the Barbecued Man

    Sam


    In a strange way, the disastrous lovemaking session helped cut some of the tension between her and Will. They slept in late, and then Will spent a good half-hour massaging ointment into her tender muscles, releasing some of yesterday¡¯s pains that had been trapped in knots and welts all over.


    They left the inn after having a quick breakfast around ten, and Will took her to an Artisan boutique where she got to pick out some clothes. She was worried it might all be a little fancy for her taste, but despite having the intimidating label of ¡®boutique¡¯, the Artisan thankfully also carried items to suit more modest tastes.


    Never one for feminine fashion, Sam picked out some simple, utilitarian outfits. Trousers, short-sleeved linen shirts, thicker tunics, and a jacket. The underclothes and socks she already had suited her fine, so she didn¡¯t need any more of that. Will insisted that she get a good hooded cloak of thick wool, and she ended up settling on a deep green one with minimal bits of golden embroidery around the hood and the clasp.


    To her extreme horror, Sam was forced to try on every single item and stand like a mannequin while the Artisan scuttled around her to take measurements and make alterations, mostly with the use of a skill called Tailor that seemed to marginally alter the fit of the fabric wherever the Artisan touched, tightening this or loosening that as needed until it all hugged her perfectly.


    At the end of the ordeal, Will paid the man what appeared to be a rather large wad of cash, after which they went to another boutique just down the street that specialized in shoes and leather. They got her a pair of good, sturdy boots that would be good for both field work and trekking through rough terrain, as well as a pair of low shoes that were easy to slip in and out of. Those would be useful if she ever planned on getting into any fights, as going barefoot gave better traction and allowed better control when grappling with her legs, making it much easier to put her hooks in. Will did not understand this distinction, of course, but he paid without complaint. She also bought two belts to top it all off.


    Once Will was satisfied that they had everything she needed, they took the heavy, wrapped-up clothing packets and lugged them north to the entertainment district, Darkside, to see if Mongrel was still around. Will found Zero tied up at one of the stables in the area with the chimps playing cards in the next booth over. After a little bit of rooting around in the man¡¯s favorite establishment¡ªthe Red House¡ªwhile Sam waited outside, Will soon produced a glitter-covered and hungover Mongrel, who was hurling an endless string of expletives at them both for pulling him out of bed. Will forced the Farmer to drink a hangover cure retrieved from his magic medicine bag, soundly ignoring the man¡¯s spitting curses. The clothing packets were tossed in the wagon so they wouldn¡¯t have to carry them the whole way, then they began the journey back to the farm.


    Nyx was nowhere in evidence by the time they passed beyond the city gates. Both Sam and Will breathed a collective sigh of relief at that. Hopefully she did not plan on returning to torment them any further.


    Number One greeted them when they reached the farm, and confirmed that aside from having to chase a fox away from the chicken pen, no incidents had occurred while they were gone.


    Sam unpacked her new things in Will¡¯s¡ªtheir¡ªroom, then returned straight away to her mock combat with Number Three, at least somewhat rested after her day off. The evil little ape was as raring to go as she was.


    Sam liked her chances today, now that she knew to watch out for any one of Number Three¡¯s brothers coming in to assist.


    She won the very first bout, catching Number Three¡¯s back and choking him out, while also managing to block an arrow shot from the barn rooftop by moving the chimp¡¯s face between her and the projectile.


    Surprisingly, Number Three actually congratulated her once he woke up from the sleeper hold, giving her a reluctant yet approving clap on the arm, along with a small nod. Number One waddled off to inform Will, who soon came out of the house wearing his pink apron with a smile on his face.


    ¡°Good work, Sam!¡± he shouted from the porch. ¡°Now see if you can beat three at once!¡±


    After the initial hit of shock wore off, Sam felt a determined set come over her face, her teeth baring in a grim smile. ¡°You got it,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll have it done by the end of the day.¡±


    Will began to say something, but his attention was caught by a white bird fluttering overhead. No, not a bird, Sam realized as she frowned closer at the thing. A¡­ letter?You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The white envelope spun about haphazardly, tumbling in the wind, then began to move downward in lazy spirals until Will reached his hand up and snatched it out of the air. He broke a red wax seal and extracted the note inside.


    ¡°Was that letter¡­ alive?¡± Sam asked as she crossed the yard.


    Will quickly scanned over the letter, heaved a deflating sigh, and stuffed the paper slip back in the envelope before Sam made it to his side. ¡°Not alive,¡± he explained. ¡°It¡¯s a skill called Message. It allows you to send letters back and forth through the air with someone else who also has the skill after you''ve made a link with them.¡±


    ¡°Who was it from?¡±


    ¡°Lord Brimstone.¡±


    ¡°The evil guy.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°What did he want? You¡¯re not in trouble, are you?¡±


    Will smiled wanly and ruffled her hair so it fell over her eyes. She blew it out of the way with an annoyed huff.


    ¡°Not in trouble,¡± he said in a soft voice. ¡°It¡¯s just work. He wants me in Sheerhome right away.¡±


    ¡°But we just got back!¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. The lord is not a very patient man. It¡¯s inconvenient, but there¡¯s not really much I can do about it.¡±


    When he turned away, Sam gripped a handful of his sleeve and held onto it, as though that would keep him from leaving. ¡°How long will you be gone?¡± she asked.


    ¡°If I¡¯m lucky, I¡¯ll be able to talk him out of the contract and get back by tonight. Most likely, though, it¡¯ll be a few days.¡±


    ¡°Aw, man. Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Just keep training in the meantime. I¡¯ll talk to Mongrel and make sure he keeps an eye on you.¡±


    Will did not waste much time in leaving. He fished a large, leather-bound case out of the back of his wardrobe, slung it over his shoulder by a strap, and buckled on the sword belt he had only just taken off. After giving her a brief farewell and a tender kiss on the forehead, she was suddenly watching him walk away along the forest trail. She kept on watching until the trees swallowed him up, then waited a little longer, before reluctantly turning away.


    ¡°You better come back soon, idiot,¡± she murmured under her breath, unable to put any kind of edge to her words.


    * * *


    Will


    Will was recognized on sight by the militiamen guarding the inner wall gate to Brimstone¡¯s military complex. They let him through without issue, though they did not show any of the deference reserved for an officer or a member of Brimstone¡¯s ruling cabinet. None of the armor-clad Laborers were too subtle about the disdainful looks they directed at his back as he passed by.


    Will wandered up the hill with the rifle case on his back. He passed militia barracks on either side, identical blocks of featureless stone, many bearing Brimstone¡¯s burning-man heraldry. He ignored the pointed stares he got and trudged on. When he encountered a four-man guard patrol coming down the muddy path, he continued straight toward them, refusing to make way, until they were forced to divert around him. Their overfed sergeant looked like he wanted to bite Will¡¯s head off, but wisely stalked away instead.


    Will approached the giant pile of glorified rubble that made up the lord¡¯s keep, a patchwork of slapdash repairs with black-and-red banners whipping overhead. He had the dubious honor of being greeted by the Sheerhome guard captain himself, a Level 12 Laborer named Griff, who pushed in front of him and blocked access to the large double doors. He was surprisingly lean for one of his Profession, long-limbed and with a lethal swagger to him, his face a mess of pink scars. His upper lip bulged with tobacco, brown spittle crusted at the corners of his mouth.


    ¡°One-Eye,¡± he spat, making the title sound like a curse. He had his hands hooked through his belt¡ªnot exactly touching the sword and dagger hanging on his hips, but not far from it either.


    ¡°Good day to you too, Griff,¡± Will replied cheerily, and gave the dark-hearted fellow a friendly punch on the shoulder.


    Griff¡¯s eye twitched, as did his fingers. He was a man who took himself quite seriously, used to being yes-sirred and no-sirred and right-away-sirred. Subordinate only to the militia commander and the lord himself, he did not appreciate a jumped-up cutthroat acting like his equal.


    Will continued before Griff could get all twisted up about it. ¡°Lord Brimstone sent me a summons a little while ago asking to see me as soon as possible¡ªmind telling me where I might find him?¡±


    Griff stared at Will; nostrils flared, mouth working. His hand actually did creep onto the pommel of his sword. Will could not help but grin at the sight of it. Getting to shave him a head shorter in front all his perfect little idiots would be immensely satisfying.


    Unfortunately, Griff took a breath, came to his senses, and grunted: ¡°Inside somewhere. Go look for yourself.¡±


    Will grinned wider to make up for the militia captain¡¯s unbecoming negativity. ¡°I¡¯ll do just that, friend. Thanks for the help.¡±


    Griff took half a step to the left. ¡°A word of warning,¡± he said in a low, dangerous voice as Will began to sidle past him, ¡°sooner or later, you¡¯re going to slip your leash. And when you do, I¡¯ll put you down like the rabid mutt you are.¡±


    ¡°Might want to be careful,¡± Will replied without stopping. ¡°Rabies is contagious, you know.¡± And he snapped his jaws playfully in the guard captain¡¯s direction, making him jerk back, and laughed as he entered the keep, leaving Griff fuming behind him while the doors swung shut.

 Chapter 26 - An Appointment With the Barbecued Man [2]

    Will


    There was no one in the great hall other than a few collared slaves sweeping up, but what could almost be classified as a bonfire still raged in a firepit at the center of the room, adding to the summer warmth so that it became unbearably hot. Will hurried through before his sweat could start soaking through his clothes, headed for the private wing where he assumed he would run into Brimstone sooner or later.


    Though he had obviously not been privy to it himself, he knew that the keep had served as the seat of some angel-appointed governor who had overseen Sheerhome in the Better Times. The cataclysmic world war following Era¡¯s death had seen the keep reduced to a ruin, but Brimstone had still seen fit to take up in it. Personally, Will would probably have picked the old academy¡ªlarger, in much better shape, and with access to the city¡¯s only decent library¡ªbut he supposed that a paranoid bastard like Brimstone liked the keep¡¯s defensible hilltop position too much to let it go.


    After wandering the keep¡¯s winding hallways for a while with nothing but his own echoing footsteps for company, he entered out onto a large, sun-soaked patio. There was a shallow set of stairs at the other end that led into a walled-off garden of flowers and hedges and climbing vines.


    Will found a woman kneeling by a long flower bed, inspecting the purple and pink hyacinths growing there. Lady-Consort Dawn, he knew by her goldspun hair and fine dress.


    ¡°They¡¯re feeling sad today,¡± Dawn said, touching one of the flowers. It drooped under its own weight, and she tried to stand it back up, but it flopped over limp again as soon as she let it go. She only looked up when Will was standing a few steps to her left.


    To her credit, she did not flinch.


    ¡°Oh!¡± she said, standing up and brushing dark soil from the front of her dress. Her laundress would not be pleased with those stains. ¡°Master¡­ Will, is it?¡±


    ¡°Quite right, lady-consort,¡± Will said with a small bow, hands folded before him. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you remember.¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Most people seem to struggle. You wouldn¡¯t think it would be that much of a hassle, it being four letters and all, but¡­¡± He spread his hands in a helpless gesture, then clasped them again. Directing his attention onto the flowers, he asked: ¡°Are they giving you trouble, lady-consort?¡±


    ¡°You can call me Dawn. It¡¯s all right.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think your husband would appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s not so scary once you get to know him. He doesn¡¯t like all the formality any more than I do.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    Dawn was a Level 7 Farmer. Attractive in a bland sort of way, she was so slim and delicate that she gave the impression of a fragile porcelain doll, something to be placed behind glass and never touched. Will suspected that Brimstone had married her in large part because she was low-leveled and harmless, meaning he did not need to worry quite so much about her putting something sharp in his back.


    He felt bad for her, being essentially confined to this haunted old keep. She probably had not had all that much choice when it came to her marriage vows. He had met her a few times since she had moved in some six months ago, and to her credit it seemed as though she was shouldering her fate admirably.


    Surely she did not actually love Brimstone. He did not see how anyone could fall in love with a man like that, and it had little to do with his looks.


    ¡°Those might be over-Nurtured, you know,¡± Will commented idly.


    Dawn turned back to her flowers. ¡°Oh, that didn¡¯t cross my mind at all! You think so?¡±


    ¡°That''s my guess. It looks to me like some parts have grown faster than the rest can keep up with. Try not Nurturing them for a few days and see if they perk up.¡±


    ¡°Thanks! I¡¯ll do that. Do you know a lot about flowers?¡±


    ¡°Mostly the killing kind.¡±


    The smile Dawn directed his way was apologetic. ¡°Well, that¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°My good Misfortune!¡± thundered a voice across the garden.


    Resisting the urge to flinch took some effort, and he forced himself to turn slowly to face the man coming down the low steps.


    Brimstone, a Level 23 Cook, chuckled at his own pun as he approached. He was clad in drab grays and browns that hung loosely on his tall frame, threadbare enough that, divorced from context, Will would sooner have believed the man was a pauper than a lord.


    He might have been handsome once, but it was almost impossible to tell at this point, because every bit of exposed skin on him looked like melted candle wax, so badly matted with slick burn scars that Will could hardly make out any of the features beneath. His face was terrible to look upon; lips burned away to bare a permanent snarl, a sharp scrap of bone all that remained of his nose. He had only more scars where hair and eyebrows should have been, and his eyes were weepy and bloodshot.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°My lord,¡± Will said in a firm voice, refusing to divert his gaze.


    ¡°Thank you for coming on such short notice, Master One-Eye. I am in dire need of your talents.¡± His voice had a wet, thick quality, words bleeding together due to a lack of lips to enunciate with.


    ¡°Whatever you ask, it will be done.¡±


    ¡°And thank you for entertaining my wife, as well. I fear she gets lonely, caught up in my politicking as I am.¡±


    Dawn stood to meet his embrace and kissed his disfigured cheek without any visible unease. Brimstone eventually broke the hug, but remained close enough to run red, livid fingers through her golden hair. ¡°I would try to find her some friends, but there are so few people I can trust.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a difficult thing,¡± Will hedged.


    Another man had followed Brimstone into the garden, nearly invisible in the shadow of his master. He was called Handsome, and the name suited him¡ªat least in a room with only the lord and himself. He had a face like a withered winter apple, a pair of tiny eyes set into its wrinkles. His thinning hair was combed neatly, and his clothes were somehow finer than Brimstone¡¯s, shining silk trousers and a bright-green vest with puffy shoulders, an embroidered collar, and buttons made of pearl.


    A Level 16 Trader, he ostensibly served as Brimstone¡¯s advisor and treasurer. Will guessed that there was something more hidden behind those tiny shrewd eyes¡ªindeed, his level alone made him someone to be watchful of. An SP crystal swirling with amber light sat on his arm, just as it did on the lord¡¯s.


    ¡°Would you run along now, dear?¡± Brimstone asked, disentangling his fingers from her hair to pat her softly on the head. ¡°I would like to speak with my man alone.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Dawn replied lightly, and touched his arm. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long. Tonight, remember? You promised.¡±


    Brimstone gave a rasping chuckle. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll be there. Handsome, will you accompany my wife to her rooms?¡±


    The advisor inclined his head in a small bow. ¡°Of course, lord.¡±


    If Lady-Consort Dawn had any reservations at being shooed off like a dog, she did not show it.


    Left alone in the garden with his liege lord, Will was starkly reminded of the impermanence and fragility of all the living things around him. How greedily the flames would swallow all this greenery if Brimstone decided he was having a bad day.


    But Brimstone looked unusually serene, his intense gaze wandering and perhaps even taking in some of the beauty on display. Getting married might have been good for him, after all.


    Will shifted the rifle case uncomfortably, its strap digging into his shoulder. ¡°Might I ask what you would like of me, my lord?¡± he prodded when it became clear that the man¡¯s attention would not return anytime soon.


    Brimstone¡¯s gaze swiveled onto Will, irises like cold ice nestled in fine webs of agitated blood vessels, and he almost wished he hadn¡¯t spoken.


    ¡°There¡¯s a man I¡¯d like you to kill,¡± Brimstone said. ¡°He goes by the name Philly Upnorth. Do you know of him?¡±


    Will shook his head.


    ¡°No, I suppose you wouldn¡¯t. He is a Trader from the northeast¡ªa merchant, ostensibly¡ªsent as an envoy from Lady Winter to treat with me and establish a permanent trade embassy here. He arrived from Stormfront just a few days ago.¡±


    It was not surprising that Lady Winter had sent someone. If the rumors could be believed, Brimstone was planning to cut off his support to Stormfront. Without regular supply shipments from the coastal cities, the inland fortress would surely wither and die.


    Though he knew it was not healthy to pry too much, Will could not resist asking: ¡°What has this man done to displease you, my lord?¡±


    ¡°He plots my murder, Master One-Eye,¡± Brimstone hissed, and his eyes that had been placid a moment ago were suddenly alive with an unwholesome intensity, rheumy and wide as cups. ¡°Lady Winter has sent him here to kill me. Once she has dispensed with those of the Lords¡¯ Council who will not kneel to her, she would make herself queen of the Sixth Octant. I know it.¡±


    Will had enough self-preservation instinct to swallow the obvious follow-up question¡ªhow had he learned this information, exactly? Brimstone had a famously tenuous relationship with reality. Maybe he had seen his fellow regent¡¯s murderous intent in a dream, or the flames had whispered it to him, or he had simply made it up. Then again, it could just as easily be true. None of the lords of Octant Six were known to be particularly fast friends.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lord, but won¡¯t killing her envoy cause open hostilities with Stormfront?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ªI fear that it will.¡± The lord seemed to shrink in on himself, becoming smaller. He did not wear a crown, but his head certainly looked as though it suffered the wearying weight of one. ¡°There is no other choice. She has forced the matter now. I can¡¯t continue to ignore the witch.¡±


    Again, Will feared to state the obvious. Sheerhome could not afford open conflict with Stormfront any more than the reverse¡ªLord Brimstone, the most powerful man in his domain, was Level 23.


    Winter was Level 30¡ªthe highest possible under the Concord system¡ªwhich made her one of the most powerful people not just in the Sixth Octant, but the entire Frontier. Brimstone had a militia of maybe a thousand Laborers. Winter commanded an army at least ten times that size, and had the power to raise the dead; if the stories were to be believed, anyway.


    Her fortress was the only thing standing between burgeoning monster hordes and the¡ªrelatively speaking¡ªdefenseless coastal cities of the Sixth Octant.


    One way or another, Brimstone was signing away the lives of everyone under his rule by courting war with Stormfront.


    The lord watched him expectantly.


    Will bit back his protests. He had no choice.


    ¡°Of course, my lord,¡± he said. ¡°I will kill this Upnorth for you.¡±


    Brimstone nodded his approval. ¡°Good man. I want you to make it messy¡ªno poisons this time, understand?¡±


    Will ground his teeth in silence, any thoughts he¡¯d had of setting up a killing that looked like an accident instantly evaporating. ¡°Yes, my lord. I will need a day or two to plan my approach.¡±


    ¡°Very well, but don¡¯t dawdle. I don¡¯t want to give the killer time to organize the agents that the witch has embedded in my city.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    Will felt a strange numbness coupled with a sense of impending doom as he dragged himself out of the lord¡¯s keep, ignoring Captain Griff¡¯s jeering on the way out.


    There was no way to get out of this. The pieces he needed to kill Brimstone were still not in place. He had no reliable way of actually killing the man, and he had no one to put in the lord''s chair once the ass of its current occupant was no longer warming it.


    His timeline had just been accelerated. If he couldn¡¯t avert a conflict with Stormfront, he at least had to rid Sheerhome of Lord Brimstone before he caused even more irreparable damage.


    This is bad. Really, really bad.


    Will turned his steps toward Joe Crag¡¯s tavern; to get information, to plan a murder, and to have a fucking drink.

 Chapter 27 - Five Ghosts, a Blacksmith, and An Assassin Walk Into a Bar

    Will


    Almost as soon as Will Left the military quarter, he was approached by a young man in dirty worker garb who appeared to be in a hurry. His stats and clothing suggested someone near the bottom of the social ladder.


    ¡°Master One-Eye!¡± the youth said, trying to catch his breath. He had clearly been running.


    Will stopped for him, scratching his eye in puzzlement. ¡°Will is fine. Who are you, and what¡¯s the matter?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master Will. I¡¯m Leland¡ªI ¡®prentice for Bogleg. We met when you came around the shop last.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Do you have good news for me, Leland?¡±


    The youth nodded. ¡°I think so, Master Will. Bogleg sent me to tell you that he¡¯s ready to carry out that special order you put in.¡±


    Will smiled, a buzz of equal parts anticipation and nerves shooting through him. ¡°Fantastic.¡±


    ¡°He still thinks it¡¯s a bad idea, though.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been keeping him up at night. I hear him grumbling sometimes from my pallet downstairs.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to know he¡¯s taking his work seriously.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Been making him ornery, too. He beat me yesterday ¡®cause I spilled some mineral oil on the floor. I would¡¯ve cleaned it up and all, but he got so mad. He isn¡¯t like that usually. He¡¯s been very kind to me.¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm.¡± Will judged the lad a nervous talker. ¡°Leland, go back to your master and tell him I¡¯ll be there shortly. I just have an errand to run first.¡±


    Leland nodded, and Will watched him run off down the street, weaving between pedestrians. He disappeared around a corner, and Will took a deep breath to steel his determination. Once he had convinced himself that he wasn¡¯t making a mistake, he turned his steps to the southwest, heading for Cliffside. It seemed he needed to pay a quick visit to Watson, Watson, and Watson.


    * * *


    Boggy


    Boggy had closed the smithy to customers for the day, had closed the shop in general after accepting a shipment of materials in the morning, and was busying himself with a bit of idle sweeping and organizing to occupy his mind. He was doing his very best to ignore the five items laid out on the center workbench.


    Normally his three apprentices handled all the busywork around the smithy, and he was grateful for it with his bad back creeping up on him in his later years, but he had sent Price and Yips home for the day after realizing that he would only keep snapping at them otherwise, which wasn¡¯t fair on them. They were good boys, putting up with an old man like him. They did what they were told¡ªfor the most part, anyway.


    Boggy jumped when the back door opened, and steeled himself to meet his terrifying young client, but it was just Leland. He had come back by himself with a message from the Misfortune, saying that the man would be coming after a short errand. Boggy thanked his apprentice, then sent him home as well. Leland protested admirably, but relief was writ large on his face.


    Bogleg kept sweeping, and when he was done sweeping he mopped up. He didn¡¯t even know the last time these floors had seen a mop. Then he organized his tools up on the wall, and fixed one of the hooks when it broke by hammering a new one into shape from some scrap metal. With nothing else to busy himself with, he began sorting out his overflowing boxes of miscellaneous leftover materials, attempting to reduce their volume by throwing out things he had held onto because it felt like a waste to throw them away, even though he knew deep down he was never actually going to use any of it.


    Boggy straightened up from one of the boxes, a hand to his lower back, groaning at the way his spine creaked and caught like a badly oiled hinge.


    ¡°Hello,¡± came a soft voice at his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.


    Spinning, he found the Misfortune standing only feet away, having somehow glided into the shop without making a noise. Tall and shaggy-haired, he fixed Boggy with the intensity of his one-eyed glare, the other stitched shut and drooping like something on a morbid stuffed toy.


    ¡°Your apprentice said you have something for me,¡± the man prodded.


    ¡°Ah, eh, yes,¡± Boggy stammered. Even though he was technically a higher level than the man he was facing down, fifteen to the Misfortune¡¯s fourteen, he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. ¡°Right over here, Master One-Eye.¡±


    I should have refused this job, Bogleg admonished himself as he guided his client over to the workbench. It doesn¡¯t matter how much the bastard is paying¡ªI should have refused.


    Of course, there was no way he could have. He wasn¡¯t actually sure who he feared more¡ªthe infamous killer, or the man holding the killer¡¯s leash.


    Noticing the tall case jutting up over the Misfortune¡¯s shoulder, Boggy licked his lips and said: ¡°How¡¯s the rifle been treating you? Would you like me to take a look at it, work out any kinks?¡± Desperate to buy himself some time before the inevitable, hated task ahead.


    ¡°No need,¡± the Misfortune replied curtly, unslinging the case and setting it down on the floor to lean against the workbench. Looking over the spread of items, he added: ¡°Let¡¯s go over what you''ve found, shall we?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He went down the odd assortment one by one, from left to right. ¡°The slave collar here, as you might guess, is enchanted with Cancel and Reinforce. The surgical knife has Refine and Reinforce, the shortsword has Refine and Accelerate, the sabatons have Accelerate times two, and this thing here¡­¡± He motioned to the last item, a little rectangular piece of steel with no obvious purpose at a glance. ¡°...is a tattoo stamp, if you¡¯ll believe it. It was quite difficult to find a Soulbound item enchanted with Absorb and Inject, you know. I had never heard of this sort of thing before I found the seller for it¡ªessentially, the artist inks the design onto the stamp, then places it onto the client¡¯s skin. The ink is Injected all at once, creating a fully formed tattoo in an instant without any pain.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± the Misfortune replied neutrally.


    Boggy snapped his mouth shut. I¡¯m rambling¡ªstop rambling!


    ¡°And once I Soulbind the finished piece, you can add another instance of Absorb onto that?¡± the man continued.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Boggy said, nodding. ¡°That is not a problem.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Good. Can you begin right away?¡±


    Boggy blinked hard. ¡°Yes, I suppose, but¡­ Master One-Eye, I feel obliged to tell you that I think this is a very, very bad idea. If you would like to call it off, I¡¯m willing to waive all payment.¡±


    ¡°Surely not. You¡¯ve already gone out of pocket to acquire these items.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s no problem. I could easily find other buyers to sell them on.¡± That was unlikely, at least for some of the more specialized items. More likely, he would just bury them all in a deep hole somewhere and not even bother trying to recoup his losses.


    ¡°I see. Regardless, I want to proceed.¡±


    ¡°Master One-Eye¡­ To my knowledge, this kind of process has never been attempted before, and for good reason.¡±


    ¡°Then we will be making history, won¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Bogleg,¡± the Misfortune boomed, his voice cutting like a blade, and his black eye flashed. ¡°We made a deal, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°We did,¡± Boggy admitted.


    ¡°Are you going back on that deal?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Good. In that case, here is full payment for your services.¡± The Misfortune produced a bulging paper envelope and handed it over.


    Reluctantly opening it, Boggy riffled through the eyecatching stack of colored bills inside. ¡°This is more than we agreed.¡± He could tell even at a glance.


    ¡°Consider it a bonus,¡± the Misfortune replied smoothly. ¡°For your discretion, and that of your apprentices.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡±


    So that was the carrot. Boggy tried not to speculate on what the stick would be, if the Misfortune got the notion that Boggy hadn¡¯t kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°Now, if you wouldn¡¯t mind¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Boggy said reluctantly. ¡°Of course. Now, I will need to do the actual forging outdoors, on account of the semblance.¡±


    ¡°By all means. Would it be possible for me to supervise the process?¡±


    Boggy shook his head. ¡°You will need to remain at a safe distance, I¡¯m afraid. I can¡¯t guarantee your safety inside the semblance field.¡±


    ¡°All right¡ªit can¡¯t be helped, I suppose.¡±


    Boggy sighed with relief that his client would concede that much, at least.


    Using a pair of tongs, he slipped the cursed items into some large pockets on a roll-up tool belt, furled it up, and reluctantly carried it out the back in his outstretched hands, the Misfortune shadowing him closely. He walked into the yard behind the smithy, where a large patch of earth had been left free of habitation, blackened and bare from use. Price and Yips had already lugged an anvil into the center of the black circle before he¡¯d dismissed them, so he unrolled the leather belt again and placed the cursed items on the anvil one by one with a soft clink, clink, clink of metal on metal.


    Seeing that the Misfortune had remained at a safe distance near the door maybe thirty feet off, Boggy took the heavy gloves looped through his belt and pulled them on, then removed the heavy hammer from its belt loop and bounced its head against the pitted iron of the anvil to test it, allowing the warm ringing that vibrated up his arm to induce calm.


    Everything was ready. There was no way to stall this any longer.


    Boggy took a deep breath.


    ¡°Semblance Art: Crucible of the Sun.¡±


    The orange SP crystal on his sheet winked out with a crackle of electricity that arced up his arm. Almost immediately, the air around him grew brighter, glowing, billowing, until he was surrounded only by light and fire. The city, the smithy, the Misfortune, even the ground was swallowed by it, leaving only him and the anvil and the items laid out across it.


    Boggy¡¯s hammer flared with energy as he raised it, a surge of power extending out from its glowing head. The cursed items, too, only took seconds before they went red-hot, then pale yellow, then seething white, impurities hissing as they sparked away from the metal surfaces.


    The horn handle of the shortsword burned away, leaving only the steel tang, and the same for the wooden handle of the surgical knife. The sabatons lost their leather straps, and he was left only with pure metal to work with.


    Without needing to put any muscle behind it, Boggy let his hammer fall, striking the anvil with the deep resonance of a gong. The air around him crackled and reverberated with the sound, flames dancing to its rhythm. The items should have gone flying when hit with such power, but his semblance pressed in around them, pinned them to the spot.


    In this place, Boggy was greater than a king¡ªhe was a creator god, a blazing figure standing at the center of a collapsing star, wielding a hammer of power.


    He struck, struck, struck, and the semblance sang with every blow. The materials resisted in a way he had never experienced. They did not want to change shape. They wanted to stay the same. They refused the heat of creation.


    Boggy hammered, and his implement roared with a mouth like a dragon. Despite the raging fire all around, Boggy was cool rather than hot. A thin coating of cold, almost icy air rushed around him, a skin-tight bubble that prevented him from being burned out by his own semblance.


    The cursed items proved quite a conundrum. No matter how he beat at them, no matter how high the temperature rose, they remained mute and dead on his anvil, spiting him as they swallowed the energy provided by each blow without releasing an iota in return.


    Maybe there was no way to create the abomination One-Eye wanted, after all. Maybe he could call it quits now, safe in the confidence that he had tried, at least.


    But then, with the rhythmic beat of his hammer, inspiration struck.


    The cursed items had nothing in common. They did not want to become one thing¡ªthey wanted to remain separate. Contrasted against the pure light of his Crucible, the dark tendrils they extended toward him¡ªnormally invisible¡ªwere thrown into stark relief. The hateful remains of five souls that had known only pain and spite and indifference from the world around them in their final moments.


    But¡­ There was one thing that united them. The little pieces of metal, while disparate, all hated him equally. They wanted him to hurt, and to weep, and to die, just as they had.


    Boggy could use that unification of purpose.


    He did not stop to think whether it was a good idea, or morally correct. Spurred by the power of his semblance, he needed to release the energy that coursed through him, to guide his brilliance into something external lest it tear him to pieces from the inside.


    His hammer fell once more.


    With a hiss of dark potential, the five pieces began to melt together.


    * * *


    All at once, quick as a bubble bursting, the light vanished from Boggy¡¯s eyes. In the same instant, all the strength left his limbs, and the hammer flew from suddenly inoperable fingers as he toppled forward onto his knees, only barely catching himself with his hands before his forehead tipped onto the still red-hot anvil. Without the Crucible to protect him, it would burn him the same as any other mortal.


    The earth around him smoked and cracked, air billowing with heat and suffused with a stench like burnt hair. Boggy shivered, both with the unnatural cold that soaked into his bones, and exhaustion following the completion of his monumental task. Not only his SP crystals, but all his AP crystals had gone dead.


    Atop the anvil, a sword beckoned, contained by a silvery, filigreed scabbard. Though they were of two separate pieces, sword and scabbard, they shared the same spirit, and neither one could exist in full without the other.


    He had been forced to make the sword long due to the large amount of material going into it, only able to cut small scraps of steel without wasting the power that had clung to the original objects.


    Though its shape might be considered unusual when placed against a typical blade of its kind, overlong by at least five or six inches, Boggy could not see it as anything other than perfect. It was exactly what it needed to be, should be. Though he could no longer sense it intrinsically, the memory of the power that exuded from the weapon nearly made him gasp.


    It was his magnum opus. Sublime in its beauty, and flawless in its simplicity.


    And yet, Boggy did not dare look upon it. For as much as it awed him, and as much as the achievement filled him with pride, he feared the thing more.


    It was a beautiful aberration. A terrible transcendence.


    ¡°Did it work?¡±


    Boggy¡¯s head jerked up, and he found the Misfortune looming over him like a watchful crow perched atop a church steeple.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Boggy croaked. ¡°No. I don¡¯t know. We should throw it away. We should destroy it.¡±


    But the words meant nothing. He already knew that this was not a thing that could be destroyed. He had created a permanent black stain upon the world¡ªa boiling fury that no amount of blood could quench.


    Goddess, what have I done?


    ¡°Did it keep the enchantments?¡± One-Eye asked. His hand hovered a hair''s breadth above the weapon, but he did not quite touch it. Even he feared it.


    ¡°They integrated perfectly.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a masterwork item.¡± Boggy had only created two enchanted items of that grade before. ¡°I already slotted it with Absorb. If you Soulbind it, that means you will have two slots left.¡±


    ¡°Marvelous work. You have my compliments¡ªand my thanks¡ªMaster Bogleg.¡±


    ¡°Please¡­¡± Boggy whispered, letting his gaze fall to the blackened earth powdering under his fingers. ¡°If you have to keep it, at least promise me you will not use it.¡±


    ¡°Your part in this is over,¡± One-Eye said in a cold, cold voice. ¡°Spend your money gladly, and forget this day ever happened. It will be better for you that way.¡±


    Boggy wished that was possible¡ªbut he did not think it was. How could a smith forget his own masterpiece, no matter the depth of his loathing for it?

 Chapter 28 - Five Ghosts, a Blacksmith, and an Assassin Walk Into a Bar [2]

    Will


    Even though it was stowed safely in his rifle case, Will could sense a¡­ wrongness radiating against his back, like a film of corrosive, unclean waste soaking through his clothes and clinging to his skin.


    A small part of him wished that he had never asked Bogleg to make the thing. That he had not persisted.


    At the same time, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, racing with hungry ambition. Yes, the risk involved was real, but if he could make it work¡­ eleven enchantments on a single weapon, with free slots to bring it up to thirteen. The potential uses of such an item were dizzying. And if his theory about cursed items turned out to be correct, even that might prove less of a drawback than expected.


    He was grateful to himself for having the foresight to pick up Soulbind at Level 13.


    Bogleg had looked supremely relieved that Will did not intend to stay and Soulbind the weapon in his shop, nor ask for the last enchantments to be slotted in immediately.


    In truth, it had not been an act of consideration on Will¡¯s part. He preferred complete privacy for what he needed to do next. As he could not think of any such places inside the city itself, and he obviously could not return to the farm to carry out his task, he had simply wandered out of Sheerhome at random in search of a suitable location, eventually leaving the tended paths as he passed the guard tower perimeter to trudge through untended meadows and head-high thickets.


    His Orienteering passive, augmented by periodic pulses of Detect [Terrain], eventually allowed him to find a dilapidated farmstead that did not appear to have been inhabited in at least a decade, blocked in on all sides by small trees and dense shrubbery so that it was nearly impossible to spot if you were more than twenty feet away.


    The door had been torn off its hinges and lay discarded on the dusty, moss-covered floor inside. Will had his old saber at the ready as he entered, but a Detect [Life] revealed nothing, and he did not see anything out of the ordinary inside the darkened single-room building, so he sheathed it again and let his guard drop a hair.


    Most of the furniture had been smashed by some careless burglar or beast, broken glassware and crockery strewn everywhere. Will did not bother searching the place to see whether there was anything worth taking¡ªhe had nothing on his mind except the task at hand.


    He got down on one knee and unslung the rifle case, placing it down with a hollow thump against the old floorboards. Undoing the clasps, he flipped the lid open to reveal its contents.


    There it lay, nestled against the semi-automatic rifle he had considered his most valuable possession until just a few hours ago.


    If the beautifully ornate scabbard was anything to go by, the blade was long and slender, with a slight curve that roughly matched the saber he already carried. It had a short, one-handed grip of all-metal¡ªan impossibly fine web of hollow steel¡ªwith sinuous quillons that reminded him of two serpents entwined at their tails.


    Though he could not make out anything visibly odd, not one blemish that detracted from the sword¡¯s sublime beauty, the aura that emanated from it was so oppressive that Will had to keep reminding himself to breathe. He removed the blade from the case with a thick cloth and placed it off to the side, handle toward him.


    There was nothing to do but pick it up so that he could begin the Soulbinding process, but something in him hesitated. Some animal instinct in the deep recesses of his brain screamed at him not to touch this thing, to leave it and run.


    If I am going to save this world, there is no room for weakness.


    Will hesitated.


    Pick it up, coward.


    Unless you want to see Sam¡¯s head on a pike because you were too weak to clear a path for her, pick it up.


    Suddenly, Will found the fingers of his right hand curling around the cold steel grip, while he slowly removed the long scabbard with the other.


    With a hiss like a pit of snakes, the sword was bared, and Will let the scabbard drop to clatter at his feet. The sword was well-balanced and mirror-bright, the metal bearing an intricate wave pattern of black and white and gray where different types of steel had been mixed together in the forging process.


    It¡¯s¡ªIf you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Agonizing pain shot up Will¡¯s right arm. He instinctively tried to let go of the sword, but found his hand frozen to the hilt as though cramping from electrocution. Something dark and urgent slid up his forearm, tiny biting mouths and clawing hands that he could not see, but producing streaks of ripping agony as real as anything he had ever felt.


    <Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die!> something snarled in one ear.


    <We hate you! We hate you! We hate you!> something howled in the other.


    The cramps were migrating up Will¡¯s forearm, brought freezing pain tinged with fuzzy numbness. His muscles spasmed and flexed without his consent, arm hyperextending, his elbow wanting to rip out of its socket.


    Will screamed. He grasped his right wrist with his other hand in an attempt to hold it still, but the blade¡¯s wickedly sharp point jittered wild in his cramping grip all the same.


    <Die! We hate you!>


    <Why are you doing this to us?>


    <It hurts¡­>


    <Why is everything so dark?>


    ¡°O Era,¡± Will spat through trembling lips. ¡°Bind me to the world, that I may flourish.¡±


    <What are you doing?>


    [Soulbind failed. Invalid target.]


    ¡°Fuck!¡±


    A chorus of discordant laughter echoed in his skull.


    His hand began to roll erratically at the wrist despite his best efforts to stabilize it, the sword swiping with a mind of its own down at his legs and feet.


    ¡°O Era, bind me to the world, that I may flourish.¡±


    [Soulbind failed. Invalid target.]


    <How dare you, thief!>


    <Die!>


    <Go away!>


    <We hate you! We hate! We hate! We haaate!>


    The sword jerked sharply down to impale his foot. Rather than resist, Will leaned into the movement as he shifted his stance, driving the point of the blade firmly through one of the floorboards. It quivered furiously in the wood, the bones in Will¡¯s arm creaking with the force of the convulsions.


    I¡¯m missing something, Will thought, trying to hang onto some shred of rational calm. There has to be a way to make the binding stick.


    He could only think of one thing that might work.


    Every good weapon needs a name, doesn¡¯t it?


    Holding both hands over the grip of the downturned sword, his mind a chaotic churn of foreign voices screaming and crying and laughing, Will called: ¡°O Era, bind me to the world, this Anathema, that I may flourish!¡±


    [Soulbind failed.]


    [Soulbind f¡ª]


    [Invalid target.]


    [Target ???]


    [Soul¡ª]


    [...]


    [Soulbind accepted.]


    At once, the voices quieted to discordant whispers and Will¡¯s arm fell slack, stopped trying to fold itself the wrong way. With a cry of exertion, he dislodged the blade from the floor, scrambled for the fallen scabbard, and clutched it between his knees as he rammed the sword home. Once safely sheathed, he pried open his fingers and hurled the sword with all his strength, which bounced over the edge of the rifle case before tumbling inside. He slammed the lid shut, secured the clasps with fumbling fingers, and staggered back once it was firmly closed. The voices had vanished the moment he let go. The dark presence slid¡ªmuch more slowly¡ªfrom his arm, like the unspooling tentacles of a dying octopus, until at last he knew that he was free of it.


    Will was left panting and sweat-soaked. He clutched his trembling right hand to his chest, feeling as though his forearm had been gnawed to the bone even though not a mark showed on it.


    Dipping back on his haunches, he took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to still himself.


    Then he wept.


    Whether from joy, or fear, or pain, he could not tell. Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Maybe the pain he wept for wasn¡¯t his own, but for the eternal agony he had sensed from those poor wretches trapped in that sword.


    Anathema.


    It had been a spur of the moment choice, but the name felt intensely appropriate.


    After maybe a minute, Will was interrupted in his sobbing by an influx of sensory input.


    [Congratulations! You have reached Level 15!]


    He flinched, at first thinking it was another attack from the ghosts in the sword, then gasped in amazement once his mind actually processed what it was being fed.


    Level 15?


    That doesn¡¯t make any sense. How could I be leveling up now? I wasn¡¯t doing anything related to the activities of either a Cook or an Explorer.


    Unless¡­


    Unless doing something that has never been done counts as ¡®exploring¡¯.


    It was an unexpected development on top of everything else. Will let himself fall back onto the dusty floor, staring up at the sprawling ribcage of rotting roof beams. He lay there and simply breathed, tried to process everything that had just happened. It took almost as long for him to accept that he was now Level 15 as it did to compartmentalize what he had been through with the sword. At least with the latter, he had expected it, had time to steel himself.


    Will had thought he would have more time to think of a semblance. He had expected to be trying for some time yet to reach that threshold.


    I do have some ideas already, I suppose.


    I¡¯ll do some brainstorming tonight.


    Slowly, Will collected himself, got up, and retrieved his rifle case, handling it as though it contained a deadly animal.


    Then he headed back for the city, tottering hurriedly on exhausted, jelly-weak legs to make it back before dark, swearing at every tangle of vegetation he tripped over.

 Chapter 29 - Lights! Excitement! Action! Death!

    Sam


    Two chimps stepped carefully around Sam, fingering the grips of their mallets. A third crouched off to her left, a blunted arrow nocked on his bowstring.


    She heard rapid footsteps as Number Three charged from behind, leading the attack. Instead of retreating, she moved into¡ªand ducked under¡ªthe wildly swinging mallet without turning, coming up as the chimp stumbled past her and got in the way of his brother. Turning to Number Four, she was just in time to dart a hand out and catch an arrow out of the air by its ball tip. Absorbing the momentum left her palm throbbing but not badly hurt.


    Making it to the bow wielder while he was still trying to nock another arrow, he let out a shriek and tried to scramble back, but she stayed on top of him, first knocking the weapon from his hands with a side kick that sent its wooden limbs flying in two broken pieces. Following up, Sam hit a spinning back kick that caught Number Four in the face and knocked him flat. She knew even before he hit the ground that he wouldn¡¯t be getting up for a minute, and turned away to focus on the other two.


    Just in time to jerk back from a swing made by Number Three, then a slap from his long off-hand. Seeing Number Two trying to circle around in the corner of her eye, she moved opposite, keeping his brother as a shield between them.


    Number Three suddenly let out a fearsome howl and pitched forward onto one knee. With a running start, Number Two bounced off his shoulder and leapt high in the air, coming down on Sam. By now she was wary of their tricks, and she caught the signs he was making with his free hand just in time to avoid the upheaval of broken earth that followed Number Two¡¯s hammer striking soil.


    Only, by moving she ended up right where Number Three wanted her, and she did not even see the blur of his mallet before it was already too late to dodge. Instead of trying to catch it, however, she just let the heavy wooden head slam right into her forehead, sending her skull rattling and her teeth chattering and her thoughts all going to mush for a moment.


    By the time her vision cleared, she found that her body had moved exactly the way she¡¯d wanted it to even in the absence of all conscious thought, her hand clamped down on Number Three¡¯s main hand and twisting his arm so that the chimp was screaming in furious pain, contorting his body to try and follow the movement of his arm lest his shoulder pop free of its socket.


    Number Two came charging in to save his brother, a determined set over his simian features. Sam responded by sliding her hand back over Number Three¡¯s hand, catching the head of his mallet, and jerking the weapon free with a single sharp tug. Flipping it around and catching the handle, she hurled it straight at the advancing chimp.


    Number Two took it hard. His head snapped back, and he tumbled gracelessly across the ground as he was carried on by his momentum, rolling nearly to her feet. Stepping over him, Sam stayed on top of the one remaining opponent, Number Three, who was trying to retreat and recoup. She weaved his desperate swipes, waiting for a good opportunity, and found a moment to latch onto an arm and toss him to the ground. She wrapped herself around him, limbs locking tight, holding his arm outflung and immobile.


    After a few moments, Number Three reluctantly tapped his one free hand against Sam¡¯s thigh, letting her know that he had surrendered.


    Sam let the chimp go and helped him to his feet, grinning broadly. His brothers were still trying to pick themselves off the ground, Number Four with a bloody nose and Number Two sporting a long cut on his brow where the edge of the mallet had caught him.


    ¡°Nice one, guys!¡± Sam called, bouncing with joy. None of the others seemed to share her excitement. She would have felt bad for them, if not for the fact that they had been pounding her into mincemeat for the past three days and change. They could do with a little comeuppance, frankly, and she hadn¡¯t gone that hard on them.


    [Congratulations! You have reached Level 4!]


    Aw, sweet! Sam thought, doing a little dance as she made her way toward the farmhouse. Better and better! Will is going to be so proud of me when he gets back.


    When she got to Level 3 while trying to work her way through just a pair of chimps yesterday, she had split her four attribute points evenly between Toughness and Strength. That seemed to have made just enough difference for her to break through two chimps, then three, back to back.


    For Level 4, she thought she might put an extra rank in Shock Absorption. Having a few ranks in both that and Stoneskin seemed like it couldn¡¯t be a bad idea, and Shock Absorption specifically had been a life-saver in her training ever since she picked it up.


    ¡°Good job, kid!¡± Mongrel called from the porch with a lazy wave. He had pulled out a folding chair each for himself and Number One and was wearing a battered straw hat, passing a smoke back and forth with the old chimp.


    ¡°Are we doing four at once now?¡± Sam asked. She shaded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him. ¡°I just leveled up again.¡±


    ¡°No need. Let¡¯s give these poor boys a rest¡ªI think you¡¯ve squeezed about all you¡¯re going to get out of fighting them.¡±


    ¡°How am I supposed to continue my training, then?¡±


    The pot-bellied man grinned mischievously. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, sweetheart. I¡¯ve got a plan.¡±


    That sounded slightly ominous, but Sam was willing to hear him out, going vertical on the porch while Number One went to fetch her some water.


    ¡°They arrange these fights in the city,¡± Mongrel explained. ¡°Folk pay good money to come watch other folk rough each other up. Pretty casual, you know.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll sign you up for one. It¡¯d be a good way for you to get some proper fighting experience in a, uh, controlled environment, and they put on specific matches for fighters Level 5 and under, so it¡¯ll all be perfectly fair.¡±


    Sam stared up at the drifting clouds. When Number One appeared with a dipper of water, she stayed on her back and let him put it to her lips. She drank greedily. It was fresh from the well, cold and delicious.


    ¡°I dunno,¡± she said with a contented sigh after swallowing the last of it. ¡°You¡¯re talking about those fighting pits, right?¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°When we went to the city, Will seemed to be pretty against me going near them at all. Are you sure he¡¯d be all right with this?¡±


    ¡°All right with it? He¡¯s the one who suggested it!¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Mmhmm. When he put me in charge, he said to take you down to the pits when you were ready for some advanced training. He was right in keeping you away from that place to start out, but I don¡¯t think he expected you to be improving this quickly.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s okay?¡± Sam asked, looking doubtfully at the upside-down man.


    ¡°Perfectly. Wanna give it a shot?¡±


    Sam grinned.


    [She says yes.]


    * * *


    Mongrel


    It took all of Mongrel¡¯s self-restraint to keep from rubbing his hands together and laughing maniacally at the thought of all the money he was about to make.


    The girl was a natural. Better than a natural. A prodigy! Was there anything above a prodigy? If there was, she was that.


    He had seen fellows in the Level 5 to 7 range get torn to pieces by just one of his boys. The good Miss Darling, just days after washing up in the Frontier, had taken on three at once.  And aside from that, she was already Level 4.


    Oh, yes. This should work out very, very nicely for me.


    He only noticed that a self-satisfied chuckle had slipped out when he saw the girl shooting him a sidelong frown as they walked down a Darkside thoroughfare. He began to make an excuse, realized that he didn¡¯t care enough to actually think of one, and just shrugged vaguely instead.


    The entertainment district was, without any exaggeration, the only sliver of Sheerhome worth a rotten shit. Instead of ugly militiamen, there were pretty working girls patrolling the street corners, extolling their virtues both verbally and through more¡­ visual communication. Invariably enhanced with at least a few points in Appeal, and sometimes the Ideal Self passive, the girls often had considerable assets spilling out of deliciously sleazy clothing. He winked at a few of them, getting smiles and titters in return, until Sam¡ªrudely, unfairly, and mercilessly¡ªhit him over the back of the head.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Sam said flatly. ¡°My hand slipped.¡±


    Mongrel spun on her with a witty retort ready on his tongue, but decided eventually to be the bigger man. The way her knuckles cracked as she worked her raised fist was a trifle dramatic, and did not frighten him at all.


    The only bad thing about Darkside was that he risked running into Nyx here. He had last seen her in this area, after all, and he didn¡¯t see why she would ever leave, considering the abundance of desperate, drunk, and/or sexually frustrated mortals.


    Luckily, he did not catch a whiff of the bitch, which was a good thing. He was glad to be rid of her. One less headache to worry about.


    At its northern end, the Darkside opened up into a giant fairground filled with a sea of tents, pavilions, and paper lantern displays. Smoke pillars from a hundred cook fires rose into the air, and a roar of noise accompanied the roil of townsfolk milling about makeshift streets of tramped mud between the uneven lines of canvas pop-ups.


    The fairground had all sorts of attractions¡ªplays, carnival games, food stalls, dog racing tracks¡ªbut most people came for the pits. They were dotted liberally about the place, and it was easy to make out their locations at a glance from the enormous poles thrust high above the tents that marked them out, each pole painted with a number to designate which pit was which.


    ¡°Don¡¯t wander off,¡± Mongrel cautioned with a sharp gesture in Sam¡¯s direction before slipping into a large, octagonal tent with colorful streamers whipping at its corners. He¡¯d left the boys behind at a stables, since this was an important business dealing, and, bless the lot of them, they didn¡¯t exactly give off a professional vibe. The inside of the tent was somehow even louder than the rest of the fairground, with bookies shouting at each other while they moved about their desks and blackboards, their voices set to a backdrop of papers rustling and stamps clicking and shalk scuffing.


    Mongrel did not need to look around long before his eyes settled on the man he was looking for. Golden Boy was, as his name suggested, golden. He shone like a sparkling treasure at the back of the room, his skin an impossibly lustrous metallic hue that almost hurt to look upon, buffed to a distracting mirror shine that reflected every movement around him.


    Golden Boy, a Level 16 Entertainer, was short and round and bald as a cueball. Not only was his skin gold, but so were his teeth and nails. Indeed, everything but the whites of his eyes was golden. Aside from a gold-sequined speedo and a pair of puffy yellow slippers, Golden Boy had his body entirely on display¡ªa disturbing marvel that was nearly impossible to tear one¡¯s eyes away from.


    Spinning a scepter of polished brass with a ruby-studded sphere for a head, the city¡¯s biggest fight organizer was dictating instructions to a gaggle of his employees, snapping his fingers at one, then another, then yet another. As the men and women were given instructions and dismissed, more arrived to take their place.


    Mongrel was halted by a security woman before he made it two steps inside the tent, a burly Builder whose scarred hand fell heavily on his shoulder, thumb digging into the dip of his neck.


    For some inexplicable reason, she did not believe that he had business with the organizer, and directed him to go outside and get in some line to speak with some secretary to make some appointment. That sounded like a dreadful lot of work, and an unacceptable amount of standing about. Mongrel did not like to stand if he could avoid it. It drained him.


    ¡°I need to speak with Mr. Boy about a fighter,¡± Mongrel explained patiently, sighing and patting the back of the woman¡¯s hand. ¡°Now be a good brute and let me through.¡±


    The woman¡¯s already broad nostrils flared almost comically, like she was planning to suck all tha air out of the tent, and her grip migrated from his shoulder to hook through his collar.


    ¡°Last chance,¡± she growled. ¡°I suggest you walk out of here now, shitface¡ªor you won¡¯t be doing much walking at all anymore.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    The woman scowled, and her nose flared even wider somehow. ¡°I¡¯ll snap your spine, man¡ªthat¡¯s what that means.¡±


    Mongrel offered his most winning smile. ¡°That would put a terrible dampener on the lively air around here, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°Not for me.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Boy!¡± Mongrel called, tilting his head back to lob his voice over this rude woman¡¯s frizzy head. ¡°I have an important matter for your perusal!¡±


    Several things happened at once. The mannish brute cocked back her fist to punch him.  Someone caught her wrist. There was a bit of scuffling. Two women ended up on the floor. There was a loud snap of bone splintering.


    At the end of it, Mongrel¡¯s face was thankfully still intact, and Sam had been wrestled to the floor between four other toughs, each one pinning down one limb, while the one he had dickered with was wailing and clutching her grotesquely twisted arm, slumped against a desk with money and papers strewn swept onto the canvas flooring.


    The roar of activity had gone completely dead, everyone still and silent, gawking round-eyed like owls.


    ¡°Sorry, Mongrel,¡± Sam grunted, spread eagle. She had ceased struggling. ¡°I know you told me to wait outside, but it looked like you were in trouble.¡±


    A fifth tough approached, drawing a long knife. He knelt by Sam and yanked her head back by a fistful of reddish hair, pressed the blade to her exposed throat. Sheerhome¡¯s rather short legal charter did prohibit murder, but what constituted ¡®self defense¡¯ was rather vague, and legal definitions seemed to miraculously change to suit whatever the right honorable Lord Brimstone wanted at that particular moment.


    Brimstone was quite fond of the money generated by the pits. The fight organizers suckled happily at his withered teat, meaning they enjoyed many legal liberties. If they decided to put Sam in the ground over a little thing like this, most likely there would be no penalty against them.


    ¡°Up-up-up-up!¡± Golden Boy cried from across the room. He came over at a brisk trot, round belly proudly outthrust, and rapped his man on the head with the scepter. ¡°None of that, now! What did I tell you about blood inside the tent?¡±


    The tough stood up, mumbled a sheepish apology, and stowed his knife.


    Golden Boy poked Sam between the eyes with the end of his scepter. ¡°Who is this?¡± he asked, eyes fixed on Mongrel. ¡°Is she a fighter?¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± Mongrel confirmed.


    ¡°She¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Of course she is.¡±


    ¡°I must have her.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do.¡±


    Golden Boy snapped his fingers insistently until his security people got the message and removed themselves from Sam, allowing her to quickly spring to her feet. She approached the woman with the mangled arm, grimacing as she reached out to touch it, then thought better of it and slowly withdrew her hand. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it.¡±


    Golden Boy giggled with delight.


    The woman with the backward arm looked somewhat less amused.

 Chapter 30 - Lights! Excitement! Action! Death! [2]

    Mongrel


    An open robe of rich red silk draped over his shoulders, Golden Boy poured liberal helpings of brandy into two tumblers. ¡°I¡¯d say,¡± he hummed, turning with the rims of both glasses pinched between two golden fingers, ¡°that that delightful little performance bought you about five minutes of my time, Master¡­¡±


    ¡°Matthew Caldwell, esquire,¡± Mongrel said. ¡°Gentleman and friend. At your service.¡± Accepting the drink he was offered, he pounded it and handed back the empty glass. Somewhat less formally, he extended his hand and continued: ¡°Put ¡®er there.¡±


    Smiling, Golden Boy set aside Mongrel¡¯s empty glass, and they shook hands while the organizer nursed his own drink. ¡°Charmed.¡±


    Mongrel had been brought to the organizer¡¯s personal tent, which was somehow even larger than the main bookmakers¡¯ office despite only needing to house a single occupant. Well, that and the four mostly naked women¡ªand two unfashionably pretty men¡ªsprawled in a half-daze on the enormous bed.


    While a fervent and dedicated patron of the oldest profession, even Mongrel found such a profusion of rented flesh a little distasteful. He was a one-woman kinda guy. One at a time, anyway.


    Golden Boy hopped up on his solid desk of dark, expensive-looking wood, his short legs dangling off the end, and looked expectantly down at Mongrel. ¡°You strike me as a keen businessman, Master Caldwell. And, well, there is only one business you might possibly wish to discuss with me. So let¡¯s talk terms, shall we?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Mongrel agreed, grinning with his eyes.


    ¡°Your fighter is talented.¡±


    ¡°A lucky find, you might say.¡± Sam was waiting in what was functionally an antechamber tent adjoining this one, left with another gaggle of working girls. Fighters did not need to be privy to business discussions¡ªthat was what managers were for, after all.


    ¡°She¡¯s only Level 4.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s very new.¡±


    ¡°How new?¡±


    ¡°Washed up a bit under a week ago.¡±


    Golden Boy giggled, making bubbles in his brandy as he went for a sip. ¡°Of course.¡± He clearly didn¡¯t believe that one whit. ¡°I assume you want her to take part in the five-under division?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not too much trouble.¡±


    ¡°No. Decidedly no trouble at all, Master Caldwell. It would be my pleasure to assist, and in fact¡­¡± The cherub-like fellow put down his glass, smiling a shiny, plated smile. ¡°I have just the thing for her.¡±


    Mongrel clapped his hands together. ¡°Brilliant!¡± Resisting the urge to pick his nose, he instead rubbed the bridge of it, looking sophisticated. ¡°What opponent did you have in mind?¡±


    Golden Boy¡¯s smile widened, and he wagged a finger in the air. ¡°Nonono, it¡¯s not like that. It isn¡¯t a fight I have in mind¡ªit¡¯s a tournament.¡±


    ¡°A tournament? That¡¯s¡­¡± It wasn¡¯t exactly what he¡¯d bargained for. Sam was still very fresh, after all, and well¡­ he could already imagine Will''s lecture about ¡®being responsible¡¯ and other such moralistic tripe.


    ¡°Yes! You are very much in luck, Master Caldwell. It just so happens that I and a few of the other organizers have pooled all our fresh talent together for a five-under tournament¡ªfrankly, I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard of it. I suppose I will need to have a word with my marketing team about that.¡±


    ¡°I live a little off the grid,¡± Mongrel replied. Besides, his vice of choice had never been fight betting. Whenever he was in Darkside, he usually found that his disposable income had run out before he got quite so far north as the fairground.


    Golden Boy lifted a hairless brow at Mongrel¡¯s comment, not understanding, but didn¡¯t inquire.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°When is this tournament being held?¡± Mongrel asked hesitantly. I suppose I should at least hear him out. I¡¯m representing my fighter¡¯s best interests, after all¡ªit would be irresponsible of me not to explore all the options.


    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Golden Boy replied swiftly. ¡°As I said, you¡¯re in luck.¡±


    Mongrel blinked. ¡°That¡¯s very short notice.¡±


    ¡°You think your Laborer needs more training? She clearly has the basics down already.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s more than can be said for most of these scum. The majority are just wannabes looking for their big break. I¡¯d say your girl has a more than fair chance.¡±


    Slowly shaking his head, Mongrel said: ¡°I don¡¯t know about this, Mr. Boy. Don¡¯t you have any regular matches on the books that we could talk about?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Golden Boy held up a finger. ¡°Just let me tell you about one more thing first. The champion¡¯s purse.¡±


    * * *


    Mongrel emerged from the organizer¡¯s private room with a grin on his face and a swagger in his step.


    ¡°Girl!¡± he called as he strode through the antechamber tent. ¡°Come on! We¡¯re outta here!¡±


    Sam was sitting in front of a large beauty mirror, surrounded by a troop of women who were threatening her with a frankly impressive arsenal of brushes and powders and sprays and pencils and pins and creams and clippers and curlers and accessories, all talking over each other so that hardly a single word of it could be made out.


    The girl looked infinitely more terrified now than when she''d had a knife to her throat. He could not hear what she called out to him, but the pleading look in her eyes spoke volumes.


    ¡°All right, ladies!¡± Mongrel shouted, shoving his way through the chattering geese. ¡°That¡¯s enough, now! I¡¯ll be needing this one back, thank you very much.¡±


    In the end, he had to physically drag her away, and he hurried her out of the tent as several of the working girls came jeering after, looking like they might start biting and clawing if given the chance.


    They had made it off the fairground by the time Sam¡¯s breathing had returned to normal, and she started looking a little less traumatized.


    ¡°Do you think he would like it?¡± she asked.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Will.¡±


    ¡°Will, what?¡±


    ¡°He probably wouldn¡¯t like this kind of thing, would he?¡± Sam abruptly stopped, forcing Mongrel to hang back as well. ¡°He¡¯d find it silly. And it doesn¡¯t look right on me.¡±


    She was talking about the makeup, he realized. Silly girl. ¡°Who cares?¡± he said, a little impatiently. Hearing the outrage in the strangled noise she made, he added: ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sure he would love it. Boys like it when girls dress up and get fancy for them.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t even look!¡±


    Good lord, why are we still talking about this? There were far more important things going on than a little face paint.


    Hoping she¡¯d let the matter drop if he indulged her, he stooped forward to inspect her face up close, stroking his chin and giving a sophisticated hum. ¡°Hmm¡­ Yes, the colors really go with your¡­ eyebrows. You look very¡­ feminine.¡±


    She looked fine, all things considered. It certainly wasn¡¯t a downgrade. But she really wasn¡¯t his type, so it was difficult to say. He didn¡¯t see the appeal of the boyish types, personally, though he wished all luck upon the men that did¡ªit meant less competition over the real ladies, after all.


    But Mongrel had lived long enough to know that when a woman asked leading questions like these, he needed to give exactly the answer she wanted to hear, or he would never know the end of it. ¡°If Will were here, he would be making excuses to visit the little boys¡¯ room about now.¡±


    Sam frowned. ¡°Why?¡± She softly touched her hair, which had been styled to perfect neatness.


    ¡°So he could rub one out, obviously.¡± Women really did not understand anything at all, sometimes.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Even through the powders that had been liberally applied to her cheeks, Mongrel could make out a bit of a blush. ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°I know so, sweetheart. You¡¯re a gorgeous girl, and our Will clearly agrees.¡±


    Sam grinned, and went to touch her face reverently before quickly yanking her hand away, not wanting to ruin the makeup job.


    Mongrel swallowed a sigh. So she didn¡¯t only have muscles for brains, after all. There seemed to be an actual girl in there somewhere. Way in there.


    He motioned for her to keep things moving, and she trotted along after him, still grinning like an idiot.


    Finally, he could move onto more important matters.


    ¡°I signed you up for a tournament,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll be fighting tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sam asked, her smile slipping. ¡°A tournament?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    ¡°Is that a good idea? Can I do that?¡±


    ¡°¡®Course you can, girl. Look at you! You¡¯re a monster!¡±


    That had been the wrong thing to say, based on the vaguely offended expression on her face. But it quickly melted away, replaced by a look of confusion. ¡°Would Will really be okay with that?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°Because I know that kid,¡± Mongrel spoke, slowly and patiently, ¡°and I know he believes in you more than he believes the sun¡¯s gonna come up tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Mongrel had been hearing about it for the past five fucking years of his life with all of Will¡¯s whining and sighing and pining, so by now he considered himself the preeminent expert on the subject.


    ¡°Okay!¡± Sam quickened her pace until they were side by side, moving with determination. ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll have to make sure I win, don¡¯t I? I can¡¯t disappoint him.¡±


    ¡°Theeere¡¯s the spirit,¡± Mongrel cooed, already counting his predicted earnings.

 Chapter 31 - Putting the Blood in Bloodsport

    Sam


    When Mongrel said that he had fixed her some sleeping arrangements for the night, Sam hadn¡¯t pictured that she would find herself standing in the dingy studio apartment of an off-duty hooker.


    Serene was one of the girls she had met in the fight organizer¡¯s tent. Dark-haired, full-breasted, and gorgeous, she had a dull, haunted look in her eyes that Sam did not find surprising for one of her profession.


    Kicking off her shoes, Serene padded across the single room and plopped down on the floor by a low table, immediately beginning to tamper with a delicate, long-stemmed pipe. ¡°You want some?¡± she called over her shoulder.


    ¡°No thanks, I¡¯m good,¡± Sam said, cautiously approaching the table. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just opium. Have you never had it?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ no.¡±


    ¡°You come to the Frontier recently?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Right. Might as well hold off as long as you can, then.¡± Serene laughed hoarsely. ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡ªyou¡¯ll take a liking to it eventually.¡±


    I wonder if it¡¯s too late to go sleep with the chimps in the stables, Sam mused, but took a seat regardless.


    Her stomach turned as she watched the woman drip a small glob of thick opium residue onto her pipe and set to smoking it, then began nursing some dark liquor straight from the bottle as well.


    ¡°You drink, though, right?¡± Serene asked, and slid the stubby bottle across the tabletop.


    Sam gently nudged it back. ¡°Not so much, actually.¡±


    The escort snorted out a laugh that never reached her eyes. ¡°Aren¡¯t you precious! What¡¯s your name, babe?¡±


    ¡°Sam.¡±


    ¡°Sam.¡± Serene blew out a cloud of thin smoke, tasting the name. ¡°All right, Sam. Why¡¯s someone like you join that tournament, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Well, Laborers don¡¯t usually fight in the pits, that¡¯s all. Most of them end up joining the militia, and Brimstone doesn¡¯t let his boys fight in the pits. Hardly lets them visit Darkside at all, the prude.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Is that right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll give you a bit of friendly advice, since you seem really fresh to this. Your ¡®manager¡¯¡ªor whatever he calls himself¡ªditch him as fast as you can and go see the captain about joining the militia. The pay¡¯s better than what you could ever hope to make as a fighter, and you¡¯re not as likely to die on the job, either.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m happy where I am, though¡ªI didn¡¯t join the tournament to make money.¡±


    Serene frowned deeply, pausing with the pipe halfway to her mouth. ¡°You didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m just doing it to level up a bit¡ªI¡¯ve got someone I¡¯m looking to impress.¡±


    ¡°Not that geezer, surely?¡±


    ¡°God, no! There¡¯s¡­ a boy I like, I guess.¡±


    Serene inhaled another breath of smoke until her cheeks were all puffed out, then exhaled two thin streams through her nostrils, her raised eyebrows making plain what she thought about what Sam had said. ¡°All right, babe. You do you.¡±


    Sam¡¯s cheeks flushed. She didn¡¯t appreciate a heroin addict prostitute judging her life choices, but bit back a snide reply in the interest of keeping the peace. She had to spend a whole night here, after all.


    Serene slumped further and further as she continued to drink and smoke, eventually lying with her head propped up against the tabletop. ¡°You ever¡­ killed anybody before?¡± she asked after a while; she slurred her words, eyes half-lidded.


    ¡°No,¡± Sam replied warily. ¡°Why would you ask me that?¡±


    Serene laughed an incredulous, delirious laugh. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re hysterical. You¡¯re going to join this tournament even though you¡¯ve never killed a single person?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No offense, babe, but you are fucked. Jesus, I thought my future looked grim¡­¡± She puffed lazily at her pipe, then slowly tipped the stem toward Sam. ¡°You sure you couldn¡¯t use some of this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Sam said, a little more sharply than she had intended. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re making fun of me.¡±


    ¡°Making fun¡­? That¡¯s not it. I feel genuinely bad for you.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You clearly got tricked into this. How are you supposed to kill someone for the first time in a tournament like this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, though. It¡¯s not like these matches are to the death or anything.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you think?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I mean¡­ that¡¯s what Mongrel said.¡±


    ¡°In that case, your manager is either lying to you, or he¡¯s a massive idiot. Sure, most matches use a non-lethal rule set¡ªif the fighters were killing each other every match, the organizers would run through their experienced fighters way too fast.


    ¡°That¡¯s why they save up their loads for big events like this. The tournament tomorrow? Those matches are to the death.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°You get it now?¡±


    Sam slowly nodded. ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°You should drop out. It¡¯ll probably get you in trouble with Golden Boy and his people, but it¡¯s better than getting your guts torn out in the pits.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to kill people? Is that in the rules?¡±


    Serene frowned. ¡°Well¡­ no. I don¡¯t think so. But everyone is going to be trying to kill you, and the crowd will be expecting it. Like I said, death matches don¡¯t happen every day, so folk build up an appetite for it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay! If I don¡¯t have to, then I¡¯ll just not kill anybody.¡±


    ¡°Babe, no offense, but I think you might be the craziest bitch I¡¯ve ever talked to, and I know some real weirdos.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t.¡±


    Sam shrugged, grinning. ¡°Meh.¡±


    They talked on, and Sam found out that Serene actually knew a fair bit about the fighting pits¡ªnot because she frequented them herself, but because many of her regulars were fighters looking to blow off steam, and apparently her pimp had deals with some of the organizers so that she would sometimes be lent out to winners as an extra reward for good performance.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°I hope they don¡¯t treat you badly,¡± Sam said after hearing that. Despite her initial dislike of the woman, she somehow felt anxious about her situation.


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re all sweethearts,¡± Serene said with a sarcastic snort. ¡°There¡¯s one who always brings me flowers and chocolate, and another who massages my feet after he¡¯s done fucking me up the wall.¡±


    ¡°But your¡­ pimp,¡± Serene insisted on using that term, ¡°he doesn¡¯t let them get physical with you, right?¡±


    Serene snapped her fingers, and a shimmer alighted in the air around the woman. What looked almost like a shell of light rapidly unraveled and dissipated like peeling skin. Once it was gone, the woman she saw had welts and bruises all over her face, and the white of one eye was bright-red with blood pooled from a burst vessel.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Sam murmured. ¡°Is that real?¡±


    ¡°I usually keep an Illusion up to hide the worst of it,¡± Serene explained. ¡°Most guys don¡¯t find it very attractive. Then again, some of them go crazy for it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awful! Is there anything I can do?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about it. I asked for this.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you tell yourself that because you¡¯ve been treated this way for so long, but it¡¯s never right for someone to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t being poetic,¡± Serene clarified, picking at a snapped fingernail. ¡°I mean, I literally asked for this.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ ask men to beat you?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes. I try to read the room. Like I said, most aren¡¯t too into that kind of thing.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡±


    ¡°Why do people do anything? It feels good¡ªthat¡¯s all there is to it.¡± Serene rolled her bloodshot eyes. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look so offended. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re any less banged-up than I am.¡±


    ¡°Except I¡¯ve been practicing to become a fighter, not a punching bag.¡±


    Serene laughed melodically. ¡°That was almost funny! You¡¯re not quite as boring as I thought.¡±


    Serene was surprisingly all right, once you got used to her. She made Sam some food at one point during the evening during a brief lull in her inebriation, and when it became abundantly clear that Sam wasn¡¯t interested in drinking alcohol, she scrounged up some elderflower juice from the recesses of a cabinet as a substitute.


    Sam decided to tuck in early so that she could get a good night¡¯s sleep for the tournament tomorrow.


    ¡°I¡¯d offer you the bed,¡± Serene said around her pipe, ¡°but I¡¯m assuming you¡¯d be a bit afraid of the cooties on it.¡±


    ¡°Is there¡­?¡±


    ¡°Semen? I¡¯d imagine so, babe. Probably only a gallon of dried-in sweat, though. I run pretty cold.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think I¡¯ll pass. Thank you, though.¡±


    The escort shrugged. ¡°Suit yourself. It¡¯s the couch for you, then. Sweet dreams.¡±


    Sam settled in on the ratty, threadbare bit of furniture, while Serene appeared to have no plans of calling it quits even as the evening progressed. She smoked and drank, and drank and smoked, and when her candles went out she continued in the dark.


    Sam was in the fuzzy halfway state between dreaming and wakefulness when she began to hear muffled sobs from the center of the room. It sounded pitiful¡ªif Sam did not already know the source of the sound, she would have assumed it was coming from a small child.


    Sam was not able to endure it for long before she had to stand up and go over to the woman.


    Serene was still suckling uselessly at an empty bottle in the dark.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she whispered, almost inaudibly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± Sam said, and made to take the bottle away. ¡°Let¡¯s get you to bed.¡± When Serene clung to the thing, she yanked it away with a firmer tug and discarded it with a heavy clinking of glass somewhere behind her.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it.¡± The woman clung to the front of Sam¡¯s undershirt, pulling on it so hard she feared the fabric might tear. ¡°Mom, I¡¯m so sorry. Please don¡¯t be mad at me. Mom, please wake up. I didn¡¯t mean it¡­¡±


    Serene fought weakly when Sam went to pick her up, but her strength, even more than the baby bird squeals she was making, reminded her of a feeble infant. She princess-carried the escort half-blindly through the darkened apartment, the other woman¡¯s head lolling. By the time Sam got her under the musty and cloyingly perfumed sheets, Serene was nearly unconscious, mumbling feverishly under her breath.


    ¡°Do you want some water?¡± Sam asked, crouched by the woman¡¯s bedside.


    She could not make out the incoherent response, but felt the bed shifting with what Sam took as Serene firmly shaking her head. She filled a scoop anyway from the kitchen basin anyway, and forced the other woman to drink it all.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± Serene asked, smacking her lips noisily.


    ¡°No,¡± Sam said, and stroked the woman¡¯s clammy forehead. ¡°I¡¯m not mad at all. Now, you should try to get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay for a little while if you promise to try and sleep.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Not twenty seconds later, the escort let her head droop over the side of the bed and vomited onto the floor. Sam fetched a bedpan as she was sick over and over again, retching until only little drops of empty bile pattered into the slopping mass of chunky semi-fluid in the open ceramic container.


    ¡°Better?¡± Sam asked, and wiped the woman¡¯s mouth with the bottom hem of her shirt.


    Serene did not reply.


    Sam began to think that she had finally fallen asleep when suddenly, the other woman murmured: ¡°Are you still there?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still here,¡± Sam confirmed, and shoved the bedpan back under the bed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel well.¡±


    ¡°I can tell.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry. You¡¯re all right.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t hurt me.¡±


    ¡°I did, and I¡¯m so sorry. Now there¡¯s blood everywhere.¡±


    Sam wasn¡¯t sure what Serene was remembering, but she kept stroking her chin and her hair regardless. ¡°Shush now,¡± she said, putting on a soft, patient voice. ¡°Do you want me to tell you a story? Will that help you sleep?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Serene said after a little while. ¡°Please do that.¡±


    Sam searched her mind for something to talk about. When she thought back on her memories, she found many of them foggy and indistinct. She could no longer remember how many wrestling competitions she had won at school. Had it been three? Four? She barely remembered her father¡¯s face¡ªin the few memories she retained of him, he always looked angry or disappointed.


    ¡°I used to be a bit of a troublemaker back in the day,¡± Sam began, settling on a memory without really thinking about it. ¡°A long time ago, in my old life. I guess you could say I was a bully.


    ¡°I used to worry that I was worse than everybody else, so I acted like I was better than everybody instead. Well, there was still one really weird kid who never talked to anyone, and we got paired up once for this geography paper. No, wait, it was a science paper.


    ¡°Somehow, he knew I wasn¡¯t any good at science, even though I¡¯d never spoken to the guy before, and I¡¯d made sure not even my friends knew about that in the first place. Anyway, he offered to do all the work on the paper for both of us, and that made me really mad, so I broke his nose off the side of a desk.


    ¡°I never really got in trouble with the school for that kind of thing, because my dad would always get me out of it. He had this way of getting people to do what he told them to, and for whatever reason he thought fighting other people was good for me. The only time I ever saw him proud of me was when I won a fight, so I kept doing it.


    ¡°The kids I beat up used to be afraid of me¡ªI guess most of the students probably were. But for whatever reason, this one nerdy kid wasn¡¯t. He stared up at me from the floor with his bloody nose and his scuffed elbows, completely dead behind the eyes.


    ¡°I hated that. I felt like he was making fun of me or something. Or like he thought he was better than me. So I kept picking on that kid, trying to get a rise out of him, get him to cry, maybe. Something. But it was like he didn¡¯t care at all. I¡¯d beat him up, or do something nasty to him, and it was like he forgot I existed the moment he turned around.


    ¡°I hated that boy so much. I hated how superior he acted. I hated how it seemed like he could see right through me, to the insecure little girl who just wanted to impress her dad. I wanted to hurt him. Hell, I wanted to kill him¡ªor that was what I thought at the time, anyway.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know when that changed, exactly. From wanting him to recognize I was better than him, to wanting him to recognize me at all. I started craving his attention until it felt like it was the only thing I thought about.


    ¡°Of course, I didn¡¯t want him to know that, and I was terrified of what he would do if he found out¡ªif he knew how weak I was. So, for a while I kept on being mean to him even when I didn¡¯t want to at all, just because I was scared to do anything differently.


    ¡°In the end, he saw right through me¡ªI know he did. But he didn¡¯t say anything¡ªhe waited for me to get there on my own. Which I did, I guess, eventually. Kind of hilariously, it was only when I saw other people picking on him that I decided it was unacceptable. Like I said, he was kind of a weirdo, and since he never stood up for himself, people started picking on him over all kinds of stuff. I probably had a big hand in that, giving people ideas by doing what I did.


    ¡°I decided to do what I did best, and started kicking the shit out of anyone who threw that boy so much as a bad look. Which, in hindsight, probably wasn¡¯t much better than what I¡¯d been doing up to that point anyway, but I guess overcompensating is better than not changing at all.


    ¡°At least it started me down some kind of positive path. I think I¡¯ve become a better person since those days, and it took finding someone I really wanted to protect to make that happen.


    ¡°Eventually the two of us started hanging out. We were kind of an odd fit, him being the book worm that he was, and me being like, a jock squared. But it worked out somehow, I guess, and soon enough we did everything together. He¡¯d come to all my matches, and I¡¯d play his stupid video games with him.


    ¡°I love him a lot. His name is Will, by the way. Did I tell you that?¡±


    It was only when she stopped talking that Sam could make out Serene¡¯s soft snoring. With a sheepish chuckle, she rounded the bed and laid down on the unoccupied side, trying not to think about why parts of the bedsheet felt a bit stiff. She didn¡¯t want to go back to the couch in case the other woman started vomiting in her sleep.


    Even though she had survived five years without him, now two days¡ªone and a half, really¡ªwas enough to make her feel like she was about to explode with pent-up feelings.


    I miss you, man.


    She wished she could go see him. He was somewhere out there in the city, after all¡ªit couldn¡¯t be that far away from where she was now¡ªbut Mongrel had said that it was probably best not to bother him while he was working, and no matter how empty her arms felt without having him there to squeeze like a giant stress ball, she intended to stick to that. She didn¡¯t want to ruin things for him with that lord fellow, after all.


    Sam didn¡¯t get much sleep that night.

 Chapter 32 - Putting the Blood in Bloodsport [2]

    Sam


    To Sam¡¯s surprise, Serene wanted to come with her when she left for the fairground early the next afternoon. She even stayed somewhat sober for the occasion, which Sam gathered was a rare occurrence for the escort.


    ¡°If your manager is as clueless as he seems, you¡¯re going to need help,¡± Serene explained. ¡°Not that it¡¯s really any of my business, but seeing you throw yourself headfirst into the dragon¡¯s den is making my fingers itch.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to have you along,¡± Sam replied, finding that she meant it. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry about yesterday. I think I made some unfair assumptions about you when we first met.¡±


    Serene threw her a sidelong smirk. ¡°Like what?¡± Having once more set the Illusion over her face, the sharp angles of her face were smooth and flawless.


    ¡°Um¡­¡±


    ¡°Like that I¡¯m a disgusting junkie masochist whore?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, relax! It¡¯s not like I¡¯m ashamed of it.¡±


    They met Mongrel near the entrance to the fairground, away from the worst of the writhing human ant colony flocking to see some blood spilled.


    ¡°Hoy,¡± the pot-bellied man greeted. His leathery neck sported several purple love bites, and there were messy smears of lipstick around his mouth. His hair was even more of a mess than usual, sticking out in every direction. ¡°Sleep well?¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± Sam replied. She had planned on giving the man a piece of her mind for making her bunk up with a prostitute, but seeing how things had turned out all right anyway, she saw no need.


    Mongrel¡¯s gaze wandered onto Serene, going up and down, before returning to Sam. ¡°Isn¡¯t this the girl I set you up with? Why¡¯s she here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I made a friend!¡± Sam said with a broad grin, hands on hips. ¡°She¡¯s just here to give me moral support. Well, it¡¯s not like she can¡¯t enjoy herself at the same time if she wants.¡±


    ¡°Friend¡­?¡± Serene repeated doubtfully.


    ¡°Yeah! Aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°No, just¡­ You could probably do better than¡­¡± She sighed, shaking her head. ¡°Nevermind.¡± Turning to Mongrel, she added: ¡°This one isn¡¯t quite all there, is she?¡±


    ¡°Her and common sense are vaguely acquainted at best.¡±


    Sam eyed both of them quizzically. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she got a word out, Serene said: ¡°That wasn¡¯t a compliment, babe.¡±


    Sam scoffed. ¡°Agree to disagree.¡±


    With the chimps helping them clear space through the jostling crowds, Sam and the others made it to the edge of the pit where the qualifiers would take place; the largest of them all, located in the center of the fairground. It was called Hell-1.


    The circle was maybe a hundred feet across, depressed about ten feet into the ground, with vertical logs supporting the walls the whole way around and a thick layer of gritty sand covering the floor. A whole heap of fighters had already gone down there, some stretching while others glared balefully at those around them.


    ¡°Remember,¡± Serene said, ¡°for this round, you don¡¯t actually need to beat anyone. As long as you¡¯re one of the last sixteen fighters still standing, you¡¯re good.¡±


    Sam nodded. ¡°Anyone I should be looking out for?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­ a couple, yeah. More than a couple, actually, but there¡¯s no time to go over them all. Most of the fighters that focus on this bracket make sure they never pass Level 5, and focus their builds around maximizing power at low levels. Since almost all the normal matches are non-lethal, that means you¡¯ll be going up against some pretty experienced guys.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Sounds like fun.¡± Sam tried to keep the nerves out of her voice, rolling her shoulders as the memories of every fight she¡¯d ever lost flashed through her mind.


    Serene pointed to one of the fighters, a shirtless man with scars across his thin torso and a cloth tied over his eyes. ¡°See that one?¡±


    Sam nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s Jax. He¡¯s blind, but he uses some kind of ability to sense what¡¯s going on around him. He¡¯s good with his hands, but his stamina might not be that great, because he¡¯s kind of a quickshot in bed.¡±


    Sam blinked at that last factoid, but Serene just blazed right past it, pointing to an unassuming man standing off by himself in a corner of the ring. ¡°That one¡¯s Henke. Henke the Hero, they call him. Undefeated, supposedly, and he''s got the longest winning streak in the whole Sheerhome promotion behind Buck, the former unlimited-division champion. Henke¡¯s been doing this a long time, and he won the last five-under tournament they ran. He¡¯s got a pretty high opinion of himself, but he¡¯s generous with his money, so I guess it¡¯s all good.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Also, he¡¯s got a really big dick.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­?¡±


    ¡°Like, in a bad way, you know? Do you know how hard it is to pretend you¡¯re having a good time when you¡¯re actively being split like a log? Pretty damn hard, I¡¯ll tell you. And that¡¯s coming from a girl who likes getting her face stepped on for fun. It''s kinda like when you''re at the dentist and they''re really getting in there, just prying your mouth open and shoving all kinds of shit in there and you feel like you''re gonna choke and die. You know what I''m talking about?¡±


    Sam shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Serene, I really appreciate the help, but could we keep it to the relevant bits, please?¡±


    ¡°What part of that was not relevant?¡±


    ¡°The part about his dick, probably.¡±


    ¡°How is it? That thing¡¯s a big weak spot¡ªyou could twist it off or something.¡±


    Sam looked to Mongrel for support, but he just spread his hands with an amused smirk.


    Serene spent another minute scanning the crop of fighters, then snapped her fingers and pointed again, this time at a short, thin man with a bald head and an overly serious, Type-A middle-manager look about him. ¡°There!¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s one you¡¯ve definitely gotta watch out for.¡±


    ¡°Who is it?¡± Sam asked, bracing herself for the inevitable penis-based commentary.


    ¡°That¡¯s Raider. He¡¯s never bought my services, so I don¡¯t know all that much about him, but what I¡¯ve heard is slightly terrifying.


    ¡°Obviously most people don¡¯t really like to talk about whatever fucked-up shit they did to land themselves here. Well, Raider¡¯s not like that. He¡¯s pretty proud of the hobby he used to keep in his past life. He, uh¡­ was a serial killer. Carved up like twenty women before he finally got put to death. Supposedly he''d even eat pieces of them. So¡­ watch your back. That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got to say.¡±


    ¡°Noted.¡± Sam found that her mouth had gone dry, and she was unable to tear her eyes away from the little man down there. He looked so¡­ ordinary. Could that fellow really be a bloodthirsty serial killer? It didn¡¯t seem plausible.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Serene went on, ¡°and that¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE TIME IS HEEERE!!!¡±


    Sam almost clapped her hands over her ears at the screech of the amplified voice.  Looking around, she could not find its source¡ªbut she did recognize it.


    ¡°TODAY IS THE DAY WE¡¯VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR,¡± Golden Boy spun on. ¡°SIXTY-THREE BRAVE MEN AND WOMEN WILL ENTER THE ARENA AND TEAR EACH OTHER TO BLOODY RIBBONS!!! ONLY ONE WILL BE DECLARED VICTOR AND GIVEN THE CHAMPION¡¯S PURSE OF FIFTY THOUSAND GLORIES. NOW, MY DEAR FRIENDS, IS THE LAST CHANCE FOR YOU TO PLACE YOUR BETS BEFORE THE QUALIFIER, AND WE WILL BEGIN THE CARNAGE SHORTLY!¡±


    The round, chromed-up man floated into view above the pit, soaring as gracefully as a dandelion seed on the wind. He wore a pair of tiny white wings on his back that Sam was fairly certain were only decorative, and not the cause of his miraculous flight, and he held his gem-tipped scepter to his mouth as a microphone.


    ¡°Guess that¡¯s all we have time for,¡± Serene said. ¡°Remember, these are just the preliminaries, so be careful and try to take as little damage as possible. Since all the fights will take place tonight, it¡¯s going to be an endurance race.¡± She got up on her tiptoes and kissed Sam¡¯s cheek. ¡°Knock ¡®em dead, tiger.¡±


    ¡°Go out there and win,¡± Mongrel said in a somber tone. ¡°I¡¯ve bet a lot of money on you. And, uh, it¡¯s important to Will or something.¡±


    Sam grinned and winked. ¡°I¡¯ll get your money back, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Number Five, the youngest of the chimps, made a series of signs. Mongrel translated. ¡°He says they all wish you good luck.¡± Number Three signed something. ¡°Three says he hopes you die.¡±


    Sam gave the first a soft pat on the head and gave the other one the finger. She slipped out of her shoes and tunic¡ªstripping down to the light undershirt beneath, which she tucked into her roomy trousers¡ªand gave them to Serene to keep an eye on.


    ¡°And remember,¡± Mongrel said, ¡°if you win, we split the champion''s purse.¡±


    ¡°I mean, honestly, you''ve been kind of a so-so manager thus far, so you could have like... ten percent, if you want.¡±


    ¡°Ten!?" Mongrel spluttered. ¡°Fifty-fifty is industry standard.¡±


    ¡°How do you know what''s industry standard? You don''t even know the rules.¡±


    ¡°Gentleman''s rules, kid. I know all those by heart.¡±


    ¡°Right, of course. Well, it''s ten or nothing.¡±


    ¡°Sixty-forty, your way! Last offer!¡±


    With an admonishing finger wag at the old bastard, she hopped over the flimsy wooden railing that bordered the pit. Laughing, she took a short step backward over the edge of the ring, dropping inside. ¡°Cheer for me, guys!¡± she called as she fell.


    The last thing she heard from above was Mongrel cursing at her.

 Chapter 33 - Just Throw Them All in a Hole and Watch Them Go

    Sam


    Sam wrapped her wrists and hands in bandages, humming to herself, and once finished repeated the process with her feet, wrapping ankles and foot arches.


    On her left was a man with a dog¡ªwere dogs really allowed in here?¡ªand on her right was a huge man with a bull neck who was staring holes into the side of her face with a look of unrestrained tomfuckery.


    A small group of Golden Boy¡¯s people cut through the bustle in the pit, checking over the fighters to make sure they cleared ¡®regulations¡¯, such as they were.


    Golden Boy himself soared overhead¡ªa tiny, graceful, and extremely noisy angel. ¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,¡± he cried. ¡°ALLOW ME, YOUR HUMBLE HOST, TO DESCRIBE THE RULES OF THIS SPECTACLE.


    ¡°FIGHTERS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE ARMS OR ARMOR OF ANY KIND, WHETHER SOULBOUND OR OTHERWISE. THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO WEAR CLOTHING OR ACCESSORIES THAT COVER ANY PART OF THEIR SHEET. THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE RING FOR ANY REASON WHILE A MATCH IS ONGOING. FIGHTERS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO INTERFERE WITH EACH OTHER BETWEEN MATCHES. FAMILIARS ARE ALLOWED AT A MAXIMUM OF ONE PER FIGHTER. VIOLATION OF THESE RULES WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE DISQUALIFICATION AND DISMISSAL FROM THE SHEERHOME PIT FIGHTING LEAGUE.


    ¡°ASIDE FROM THAT, EVERYTHING IS LEGAL. THEY CAN SMASH, THEY CAN CLAW, THEY CAN BITE, THEY CAN DEMOLISH; ANYTHING THEIR PRECIOUS LITTLE HEARTS CONCEIEVE OF. UNLESS THE HORN SOUNDS, A FIGHTER HAS NO OBLIGATION TO STOP IF THEIR OPPONENT FORFEITS.


    ¡°THESE PRELIMINARIES WILL RUN UNTIL SIXTEEN FIGHTERS ARE LEFT STANDING, WITH ALL OTHERS DEAD OR INCAPACITATED.


    ¡°NOW THAT ALL THE BORING STUFF IS OUT OF THE WAY, WITHOUT FURTHER ADOOO¡­¡± Golden Boy threw up his hands, and a huge glassy cube appeared in the air high above the ring, about ten feet to a side, each face displaying a remote image of Hell-1 for anyone not standing directly ringside or occupying one of the rickety bleachers. It appeared to be cast from the spherical tip of his scepter, which had dislodged itself from the base and was zipping around the arena to capture various angles.


    ¡°LET US BEGIN!!!¡±


    Distantly, a horn honked out a long, tremulous cry.


    There was an immediate scramble of activity as sixty-three men flew upon each other.


    Sam was not surprised when a brick of a fist came at her from the right, attached to the bull-necked man. She caught the offender by the wrist and launched herself up in a flying armbar as she kicked off the big man¡¯s upper thigh. Coming down inverted, her limbs all wrapped around the man¡¯s beefy limb, she pried with all her strength.


    The man roared and batted at her shoulders, but she clung on. His blows hurt, but he had poor leverage with her so close up. It wasn''t any worse than what the chimps had been hitting her with. She kept pulling, and only let up when she heard a satisfying pop. She fell free and allowed the man to stagger away, his arm dangling uselessly from its dislocated shoulder socket.


    She rolled deftly to her feet in a low crouch. The big man was still flailing around on one knee, trying to get back up. Before she could firmly disabuse him of that notion, a shaggy dog¡ªthe one she had seen earlier¡ªcame leaping over her head, thudding into the man and knocking them both to the sand. A moment later, Sam saw a spurt of blood as sharp teeth found a man¡¯s throat. A brief cry pierced the din, then the man did not make another sound.


    Sliding upright, Sam took two steps back to keep both the dog and its owner in her view at once. But the man¡ªan Explorer, going by the spyglass symbol on his arm¡ªtook one look at Sam, then whistled sharply to his dog, the bloody-mouthed familiar trotting faithfully after its master into the crush of fighters.


    She had no real desire to chase after him.


    Sam only got a few heartbeats of calm, however, before the next opponent presented himself, charging at her like a madman. His movements were sloppy, amateurish, so she forewent caution and met his approach with a firm straight kick that caught him center mass and folded him in half with a wide-eyed gasp. The man crumpled in a heap, and she stepped over him to advance toward the next.


    There was no use bringing strategy into this kind of chaos¡ªshe just blocked or dodged when she perceived an attack coming at her and struck when she saw an unprotected body part.


    Then, suddenly, Sam felt a flare of pain in her side and leapt clear, touching a long, bleeding gash running along her obliques. How¡­?


    An unassuming, smiling man faced her down, hands clasped before him as though he were waiting in line at the bank.


    It was Raider, that serial killer Serene had warned her about.


    The coiling serpent on his Profession symbol marked him as a Physician. Had he used a skill on her, somehow? Was that how he had wounded her like that? All five of his AP crystals were still glowing, though.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°I will not take any pleasure in this,¡± Raider said with entirely too much glee in his voice. ¡°If you would only stay still, I promise I can make it quick and painless. The more you struggle, the worse it will be for you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kind of a sick puppy, aren¡¯t you?¡± Sam grunted, taking her hand off her side; palm stained red. She closed her fists in a long guard. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say, friend, but I¡¯m not just going to sit nice while you murder me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s such a shame. You are too beautiful to die with a look of pain on your face.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. I think I¡¯d prefer the look of satisfaction I¡¯ll have after I kick your ass.¡±


    The little man¡¯s face fell, becoming tight with displeasure. ¡°Such an ill-mannered¡ª¡±


    He only barely managed to jerk back before her leaping punch would have caught him between the eyes, and she laughed as he went tumbling over the back of someone lying face-first in the sand.


    Raider came up red-faced and furious. When a man came at him from the side, his hand quickly darted out with a flash of something metal, and the other man staggered past him, vainly trying to stop the blood pumping from his slit throat with fumbling fingers.


    He''s using a weapon, Sam realized. Raider came toward her again, a cold fury in his narrowed eyes. But try as she might, she could not see anything in his unclenched hands now, and his sleeves ended just below the shoulders, meaning he could not be hiding anything there.


    ¡°You¡¯re cheating, aren¡¯t you?¡± Sam called to him. ¡°You¡¯re using a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Prove it,¡± Raider replied with an insufferable smirk.


    Not wanting to end up on the back foot, Sam launched into another, more conservative attack. He was ready for her this time, and slipped easily out of range of her punches. Abruptly stopping dead on his heel, he retaliated with a swipe of his own. She jerked back, but still felt a hot streak bloom across her chest, and looked down to see that he had scored her just below the collarbone. Whatever weapon he was using, it had to be deadly sharp to pierce her Stoneskin thingy.


    ¡°You¡¯re really pushing me here,¡± Raider mused mournfully. ¡°It¡¯s not very nice.¡±


    Sam grinned, ignoring the pain. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for being an inconvenience.¡±


    Raider shrugged, letting his arm drop. ¡°Well, no matter. That just means I don¡¯t have to feel guilty over what I¡¯m going to do to you.¡±


    He went on the offensive, and Sam weaved around a quick flurry of strikes and swipes. Since he could seemingly bring out his concealed weapon instantly as soon as he connected, that meant she had to treat each one of his attacks as though it were made with deadly force. She had to devote most of her energy toward defense, with no opportunity to safely retaliate.


    They came together, and she tried to hook his leg, but he stepped over her foot and followed up with a quick jab that she was just barely able to duck under. She wasn¡¯t able to close the distance into her favored ground-game either, since that was just giving him a clear opportunity to stick her with something sharp. She had to stick to striking, an area she was weaker in.


    Sam weaved around a trio of men fighting furiously in her peripheral, and kicked a spray of sand in the killer¡¯s face when he tried to close the distance. It succeeded in momentarily distracting him, and she should have had him then, but a stray elbow from a fighter not even looking her way caught the side of her head and sent her staggering, fireworks exploding across her vision.


    Still trying to regain her balance, Sam caught a glint of metal and instinctively threw up her arms in an X. A knife buried itself in her left forearm, slicing through muscle fibers, and she growled through gritted teeth.


    Did he just throw his knife? But he couldn¡¯t have! If he had, there¡¯s no way it would have had enough power to go in that deep.


    Before she could extract it herself, the knife vanished into thin air, leaving only the trickling stab wound behind. She looked up and found Raider already bearing down on top of her, kept her scrambling.


    ¡°Why won¡¯t you die already?¡± the killer snarled between heavy breaths, barely audible over Golden Boy¡¯s screeching commentary.


    Can¡¯t let this fight drag on. I have to finish it quickly before he can damage me even more.


    Deciding that she wasn¡¯t going to play defense anymore, Sam waited for an opening and extended her arms to catch the killer¡¯s arm as he went for a punch. But the man did not try for the knife at all. As soon as she lowered her guard, the little man hurled himself on top of her, crazed, his jaws split wide in a serpentine gape.


    Only an instinctive sideways jerk stopped the man¡¯s teeth from sinking into her neck. Instead, they found her right trapezius, and she cried out as she felt a meal being made of her flesh.


    No man should have been able to bite that hard. She especially would not have expected it of a man like Raider, who had an obvious lack of any points in Strength. And yet, there he was, grinding his teeth into her shoulder and noisily slurping up her blood.


    Once the momentary shock wore off, Sam dropped forward to send both of them to the ground, Raider on the bottom. He grunted when his back hit the sand, her entire weight bearing down on him. His bite grip loosened momentarily, which was all Sam needed to tear free.


    ¡°You¡ª¡± Raider hissed, the entire lower half of his face and collar of his shirt stained with her blood.


    Sam¡¯s full-strength punch caught him on the jaw. It should have had more than enough power for a knockout, but it was her hand that came away hurting. Not wanting to waste a moment wondering why this man had such an iron chin and give him an opportunity to recover, she immediately hoisted herself off him with her hips and free hand, then put her full weight into a vertical elbow. It struck him square in the face, driving his head back into the ground, and crushed his nose flat. The man¡¯s eyes crossed over, and she left him to his incoherent, drunken mumbling as she staggered back to her feet, a hand to the hot, thumping bite wound on her shoulder.


    ¡°Motherfucker,¡± Sam muttered. So much for avoiding damage in the preliminaries.


    She had not really collected herself for another fight when, a few moments later, a woman paired off against her. Sam raised her guard, one fist thumping after her encounter with the killer''s unnaturally durable jaw.


    Before either one could take a step toward the other, the left side of the woman¡¯s abdomen was blown out her front, and a spray of blood and gore and bits of broken rib fanned out on the sand. The woman fell unconscious from shock before she¡¯d even processed what happened, and fell flat on her face in a splattering of her own guts.


    A man stood where she had been, lead hand smoking. Bouncing lightly, his handsome face wore a confident smile. His name was Henke, she remembered. The winner of the previous tournament.


    ¡°I like the way you move,¡± the man said. ¡°Wanna team up?¡±

 Chapter 34 - Just Throw Them All in a Hole and Watch Them Go [2]

    Mongrel


    Mongrel felt his dream of obscene wealth slowly die as he watched Sam take one wound after another. The guy doing it to her¡ªthat serial killer the working girl had gone on about¡ªwas quick and all, but he didn¡¯t look all that strong. What was that in his hand?


    ¡°Is he using a knife?¡± Mongrel asked.


    Serene pursed her lips. ¡°I can¡¯t tell from here, but I wouldn¡¯t put it past anyone to cheat in order to get a leg up.¡±


    ¡°Should we be reporting it to someone? What he¡¯s doing should be grounds for disqualification, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no use. They¡¯d only enforce a rule like that if it was blatantly obvious to most of the audience that he was doing it, and they started making a fuss.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    ¡°It is what it is. Seems like he¡¯s doing a good job concealing the weapon, too¡ªlook, his hands are empty right now.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a Physician, which means he¡¯s not using Illusion to hide it¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like it really matters how he¡¯s doing it right now. What matters is whether our girl knows how to deal with it.¡±


    Things were still looking inconclusive as the fight progressed. She took another wound when the killer hurled his knife, embedding it in the flesh of her right forearm before making it vanish. He then soon leapt on top of her, and sank his teeth deeply into her shoulder, the two of them staggering around as one.


    ¡°How¡¯d he do that?¡± Mongrel asked. ¡°Sam has Stoneskin and points in Toughness¡ªhe should have busted up his teeth before ever getting through.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no system expert, but I think it¡¯s a passive,¡± Serene mused. ¡°There¡¯s one called Dental Enhancement that might make his teeth strong enough to pierce her skin.¡±


    ¡°Dental Enhancement¡­? The Concord sure has some specific abilities¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s pretty obscure. I only know about it because some of the girls I work with have been forced to take it when a client has busted their teeth up so bad they stop getting business. Apparently it regrows your teeth as well as strengthening them.¡±


    Luckily, Sam ended up winning her bout as she beat the serial killer into the ground. Serene gave a pleased hum and clapped her hands, while Mongrel nodded with grim satisfaction. It was far from a perfect start, but at least she was still in the race.


    * * *


    Sam


    ¡°WE HAVE JUST ABOUT REACHED THE HALFWAY POINT, PEOPLE! THIRTY-TWO FIGHTERS REMAIN¡ªANOTHER SIXTEEN, AND WE¡¯LL HAVE OUR OFFICIAL TOURNAMENT LINEUP!¡±


    With the number of competitors dropping and people coalescing into larger teams, they were increasingly pulling into their own corners of the pit to regroup and strategize. There were only a few stray fights still ongoing amid the field of twisted corpses and weakly flailing wounded.


    ¡°We should find someone else to team up with,¡± Henke noted calmly, twisting a silver ring inset with a blood-red rubiy round and round on the forefinger of his right hand. ¡°It might get dicey with just the two of us.¡±


    Though she was glad for the backup, she was still more than a little unnerved by the way Henke had blown a hole through that woman without even giving her a chance to defend herself. She¡¯d have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he didn¡¯t find an opportunity to do the same to her.


    He did make a good point, though. Looking around the arena, she saw several groups that looked to have four or more members. When she spotted a man on his back, vainly trying to defend himself while another stomped on him repeatedly, she started off in that direction without thinking.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The aggressor looked up when Sam got close, pivoted, but not fast enough to avoid the dropkick aimed at his side. She felt his ribs crunch under her heels as he went ragdolling off his victim, and Sam rolled to her feet as she watched her opponent scrabble around on his belly, wheezing for air. He didn¡¯t look like he was getting up anytime soon.


    ¡°You all right, man?¡± Sam asked the one who had been on the receiving end. ¡°Are you good to stand?¡±


    The battered man¡ªa Level 5 Artisan¡ªstaggered heavily to his feet, and Sam put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. ¡°Thank you,¡± he breathed. ¡°I¡¯m all right. Thought I was a goner, though.¡± His arms hung slack at his sides, mottled purple with fresh bruises.


    ¡°Wanna stick with us?¡± Sam asked, jerking her head in Henke¡¯s direction as he came trotting over.


    ¡°Hmm, let me think about it,¡± the man said with a tired smile. ¡°You know what, all right. Just ¡®cause you asked so nicely.¡± He offered a handshake, fingers trembling with pain. ¡°I¡¯m Ratcatcher.¡±


    Sam shook it, doing her best to be gentle. ¡°Weird name, but all right. I¡¯m Sam Darling. That one over there is Henke.¡±


    ¡°I know who he is.¡±


    If Henke noticed that they were talking about him, he did not care to acknowledge it. Walking over to the man Sam had just incapacitated, he finished him off with a booming jab that left the man¡¯s head sagging and concave. He turned away from the dead opponent, still wearing a smile. ¡°Okay, three might be good enough for now. Nice work, Darling.¡±


    Sam couldn¡¯t think of anything in reply, unable to tear her eyes away from the human ruin Henke had left behind him.


    ¡°Glad he¡¯s on our team,¡± Ratcatcher muttered under his breath.


    ¡°WELL, WELL, WELL, LOOKS LIKE THINGS HAVE DEVOLVED INTO A BIT OF A STALEMATE!¡± Golden Boy cried, his ball-like form hovering lazily overhead. ¡°WE DON¡¯T LIKE THAT, DO WE, FOLKS?¡±


    A wave of booing at that.


    ¡°I UNDERSTAND, I UNDERSTAND, SO HERE¡¯S WHAT WE¡¯LL DO; IN FIVE MINUTES, I WILL BEGIN DISQUALIFYING A FIGHTER AT RANDOM, ONCE A MINUTE. SO UNLESS YOU WANT TO LOSE YOUR CHANCE AT THAT PRIZE MONEY, I SUGGEST YOU FINE GLADIATORS GET A MOVE ON!¡±


    Henke sighed, spinning the ring on his finger. ¡°Well, you heard the man. Let¡¯s go eliminate some losers, shall we?¡± Without waiting for a reply, he began making his way toward a nearby five-man group.


    Still grappling with all the death she had been witness to in the last few minutes, and trying to reckon how much of the blame fell on her, Sam numbly followed.


    Henke took the lead, flawlessly weaving attacks thrown by the opposing fighters when he stepped into range. An uppercut caught a man on the chin with a burst of explosive flame, shattered teeth flying everywhere. The second was tripped up by a shin kick, then took a right hook to the side of the head that burst his skull like an overripe melon.


    Sam entangled a third man trying to circle around Henke and got him on the ground in a mount. She pried open his sloppy guard, then choked the man out with his own folded arm by pressing her entire weight down on him. By the time she stood up, only one of the enemy group remained, a thin fellow trying to clamber up the side of the ring to escape. He had almost reached the top when a disgruntled spectator planted a foot in his face and kicked him right back down, then spat after him.


    The poor man screamed as he fell, landing on his back just in front of Henke. The Explorer sketched out a grinning bow to the audience member who had presented the offering, and proceeded to efficiently and emotionlessly stomp the man¡¯s windpipe in, leaving him sucking in mute desperation for a breath that would never come.


    Thirty seconds later, Golden Boy announced that the preliminaries were closed, and that the sixteen fighters left standing would advance to the real tournament. Sam found herself staring in cold disbelief as attendants came out to cart away the dead, finish off the ones that looked like they were headed that way, and tend to the ones not too badly wounded.


    Henke jogged over with his charming, dimpled smile, waving occasionally at the cheering crowds who were evidently quite fond of him. More than one article of women¡¯s undergarment was thrown his way. At least he didn¡¯t pick any of them up.


    ¡°Impressive, Darling,¡± he said with an appreciative nod. ¡°It¡¯s not every day you see a Laborer in the pits. I¡¯m interested to see how you¡¯ll fare in the brackets.¡±


    ¡°Did you really need to kill those people?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Who?¡± Henke frowned about him, looking genuinely confused.


    ¡°Everyone. All the people you¡­ blew up, or whatever.¡±


    His frown deepened as his gaze returned to her, seemingly taking her in anew. ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure you understand the game we¡¯re playing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I do.¡±


    He laughed. ¡°All right, Darling¡ªif you say so. But don¡¯t expect to be meeting me in the finals with ideas like that.¡±


    Confident, aren¡¯t we? As though his ending up in the finals was already a foregone conclusion. Well, then again, Sam had already decided that she was going to win this whole thing. Maybe all fighters thought like that.


    Sam turned away from Henke to make it clear that the conversation was over, and let him jog off to do some more preening for his fans. She regretted teaming up with him in the first place. If she¡¯d known what kind of person he was¡­


    ¡°Psycho, right?¡± Ratcatcher said, watching the other man leave.


    ¡°That¡¯s putting it mildly,¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°You should ignore what he said. People like that, they don¡¯t understand what it¡¯s like to have a conviction.¡±


    Sam threw the Artisan a sidelong smile. He had a somewhat meek, unathletic look about him. ¡°What about you?¡± she asked. ¡°You got one of those?¡±


    Ratcatcher returned her smile. ¡°I do. This time, I¡¯m going to win a fight, if it¡¯s the last thing I do.¡±

 Chapter 35 - Big Girls Dont Need Pep Talks

    Sam


    Sitting in a care tent inside the fairground, Sam endured as Serene poked and prodded at her and Mongrel plied her with a slew of foul-tasting potions he had pilfered from Will¡¯s workshop before they left. The chimps stood guard outside to make sure they weren¡¯t bothered.


    ¡°You were reckless,¡± Mongrel admonished, jabbing a finger at her nose. ¡°Do you have any idea how much money I¡¯ll lose if you die?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, thanks for asking,¡± Sam said with an amused smile. It quickly faded, however, replaced by a frown. ¡°There was so much¡­ death, out there. Maybe I should have expected it, but I didn¡¯t think it would be like that at all.¡±


    ¡°Well, you kept moving, and that¡¯s all that matters,¡± Serene murmured, her face only inches from Sam¡¯s shoulder as she worked to seal the ring of weeping puncture wounds marring it. ¡°And now that you¡¯re moving into the singles battles, you¡¯ll be able to affect the outcome more. If you win, you get to be as merciful as you want, and if you lose, well¡­ Then you¡¯ve got a lot less to worry about, at least, since you¡¯ll be dead and all.¡±


    Sam nodded.


    ¡°Your head on straight, girl?¡± Mongrel asked sharply, tapping her foot with his boot. ¡°Don¡¯t go getting all shell-shocked on me now.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t lose, Mongrel,¡± she assured him.


    Serene bandaged the shoulder, then leaned back and gave Sam''s thighs a final-sounding clap. ¡°All right, I¡¯ve done about all I can. I¡¯ve only cleaned and glued your wounds, because I think if I put in stitches you¡¯d just rip them open. You¡¯ll need to get them looked over properly once this is all over.¡±


    ¡°Got it. Thanks for the help.¡±


    The working girl shrugged off Sam¡¯s praise. Number Three came in with a sheet that had the fight brackets on it, and Mongrel read it over before passing it to Serene.


    ¡°What¡¯s it say?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re in the A-Bracket,¡± Mongrel said.


    ¡°That¡¯s good news,¡± Serene added, wiping bloody hands on an equally sullied rag. ¡°Henke¡¯s in the B-Bracket, so you won¡¯t have to go up against him until the finals. If you¡¯re lucky, he might get knocked out before then.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s his deal, anyway? He was throwing all these crazy punches that blew holes in people, but it didn¡¯t look like he was using any AP.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll be because those explosions don¡¯t come from him using a skill. It comes from his Soulbound item, that ring he wears. The SPFL ruled it as an ¡®accessory¡¯ rather than a weapon, so he¡¯s allowed to use it as much as he likes. It¡¯s supposed to be pretty special, procured at great cost by his sponsor, but I don¡¯t know many details. He¡¯s tight-lipped about it. Basically, it lets him throw as many of those fire punches as he wants, since the skill is imbued into the ring rather than him having to use it himself.¡±


    ¡°That sounds dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Well, he didn¡¯t win the last tournament by accident, so.¡±


    ¡°What about someone named Ratcatcher? Do you know anything about him?¡±


    Serene slowly nodded. ¡°That one guy you teamed up with? He¡¯s not a client of mine, but I know of him. To be honest, he¡¯s a bit of a local joke.¡±


    Sam frowned, rolling her shoulder to test its mobility. Serene smacked her on the arm and admonished her for moving before the glue had fully set. ¡°Why¡¯s he a joke?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s lost every fight he¡¯s ever been in,¡± Serene said, shrugging. ¡°If he knew what was good for him, he would have given up the whole pit-fighting thing ages ago. Artisans aren¡¯t equipped for this kind of game to begin with¡ªthey¡¯re just not that well-suited to fighting builds.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Hearing that, Sam couldn¡¯t help but feel some kinship with the man. She knew what it was like to beat her head against the same wall again and again, even though she knew she¡¯d never break through it¡ªeven though she didn¡¯t even know why she was doing it in the first place.


    He had said that his conviction for this tournament was to win at least a single match. She hoped he¡¯d get there.


    ¡°And who am I fighting first?¡± Sam asked.


    Having taken the paper back, Mongrel frowned down at it. ¡°Someone called Terry Terrible. She¡¯s a Cook¡ªI happened to notice her during the qualifier.¡±


    Serene chuckled. ¡°Oh, he ¡®noticed¡¯ her all right.¡±


    Mongrel sniffed haughtily. ¡°I was talking about her fighting style.¡±


    ¡°Sure you were.¡±


    ¡°I was!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not arguing with you.¡±


    Mongrel muttered something of a distinctly derogatory nature under his breath, then shook his head. ¡°Whatever. What I¡¯m trying to say, if anyone would like to listen, is that she seems to be using a Spark-Amplify strategy.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means,¡± Sam said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fairly standard combination for Cooks,¡± Serene explained. ¡°Spark is a cantrip skill that makes a small flame¡ªonly really good for lighting a campfire or a cigarette or whatever. But if you pair it with the skill Amplify, you can make that fire even bigger, and if you use Amplify on itself first, you can even make a combustion so violent and fast it creates an explosion.


    ¡°I imagine Henke¡¯s ring is using the same principle, or at least a similar one. Your opponent will probably be a bit conservative since she¡¯ll want to avoid stacking up skill fatigue with successive matches, but I assume she¡¯s got some other nasty tricks she¡¯s probably planning to spring on you, so stay on your toes. Your best shot is to wait her out, get her to waste her load, then go in and finish her.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Sam spent the next hour-and-change resting, before it was time to go out to her first match. It was being held in Hell-5, one of the smaller pits. Golden Boy was there to announce the fight, even though she could also hear his muffled screech from where B-Bracket was holding its own matches. Either the man had a twin identical to him in every way, down to the outfit and gaudy scepter, or he was using some kind of skill to be in two places at once.


    The woman lined up on the opposite end of the ring was robust and clad in light attire, staring Sam down without any crack in her confidence. She wore her hair cropped to a dark fuzz, and a pair of tough leather gloves on her hands.


    The announcer did his opening remarks for a somewhat diminished crowd, since half of them were over at Hell-3 to watch the B-Bracket.


    A floating television cube like the one in the qualifier shimmered into existence in the air high above the fighters¡¯ heads, Golden Boy¡¯s sphere darting about them to capture audio and video, but Sam only had eyes for her opponent.


    The nerves were getting to her. She wanted to be sick.


    A horn sounded, shrill and urgent.


    Sam ran forward and all the unwanted emotions evaporated at once like morning dew, leaving her completely calm.


    I¡¯m going to win. she told herself. This time will be different.


    * * *


    Mongrel


    Watching the girl enter the ring through the image on the airborne Illusion cube, Mongrel rubbed his lucky marble between thumb and forefinger and held it up to his lips as he beseeched the thing to part with its power.


    ¡°Why are you so nervous?¡± asked the pretty working girl beside him, arms crossed in contempt. ¡°You saw how she did in the preliminaries. She¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Just covering all my bases,¡± Mongrel muttered. Women didn¡¯t understand the importance of lucky rituals. ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to be safe.¡± He let his arm fall, though, and pocketed the marble. He¡¯d already squeezed all the luck out of it anyway.


    ¡°Hello, Matthew,¡± a smoldering voice suddenly whispered in his ear, straightening his spine and curling his toes. ¡°Did you miss me?¡±


    Mongrel whirled around, struggling with the sword on his hip, but the damn thing was stuck¡ªrusted to its scabbard, he realized. He¡¯d always considered the most successful kind of fighter one who never had to draw his weapon in the first place, but what use was there in lugging the damn thing around if he couldn¡¯t use it when he needed it?


    Mongrel was still glaring at his sword and tugging at the hilt when the ashen-skinned demon placed a soft hand over his, her blazing-hot touch somehow intensely, unnervingly comforting.


    ¡°No need for that, dearest,¡± she cooed, patting his hand. ¡°Well? What do we think?¡±


    Mongrel looked up and found Nyx standing with arms outstretched for his perusal. She was clad in a very tight skinsuit that hugged seemingly every curve and contour of her body, and somehow seemed even more revealing than when he had seen her in nothing but her birthday suit. Exposed sections were adorned with thick swirls of paint, and her black hair was wound about her head in a complex braid, leaving her looking a pornographer¡¯s vision of a warrior princess. Yellow eyes flashed, and sharp fangs glinted.


    Gods? If any of you are listening, please save me. I promise I¡¯ve been good sometimes. At least once, probably.


    ¡°You suit the summer fashion perfectly,¡± Mongrel intoned in a suave drawl, deciding to play things cool. He took the demon¡¯s slim hand and brought it to his mouth. ¡°I haven¡¯t had the pleasure of your company in some time.¡±


    Nyx shrugged at the unspoken question, and her impish grin widened as she watched him kiss the back of her hand. ¡°I wanted to enjoy the debauchery of the city for a bit.¡± She sighed dramatically. ¡°Alas, I quickly grew bored of such trivial pursuits. What luck, then, that the moment I began shopping around for something else to occupy my attention, I should find my favorite mortal in all the Frontier. Lucky indeed.¡±


    Damn you, marble! That wasn¡¯t what I meant!


    ¡°I see,¡± Mongrel replied. ¡°Well, to be honest, I¡¯ve been very busy lately. I¡¯m not sure I have the time for a social call.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to hear the good news first?¡±


    ¡°What good news?¡±


    ¡°Your beloved Annie has returned to work.¡±


    Mongrel blinked. ¡°What? How? Why?¡±


    ¡°Apparently, married life did not agree with her. Something about infidelity¡ªridiculous human custom, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡±


    Mongrel was so distracted by this information that he entirely forgot that he was supposed to be maintaining a healthy wariness. Without a second¡¯s hesitation, Nyx smoothly stepped in beside him and slipped an arm through his. Before he had a mind to protest, he found their fingers inescapably interlaced.


    ¡°Who are we rooting for, then?¡± Nyx sighed contentedly, gazing up at the cuboid screen. ¡°Matthew, is that who I think it is? Oh, it is.¡± She directed a shrewd little smile in his general direction. ¡°I should have known you¡¯d enter her into something like this, you dog-faced scoundrel.¡± Something in the way she purred the insult made it sound like a compliment instead, which in turn made it difficult to bristle at.


    Mongrel glanced up at the screen, an excuse waiting, but found it dying in his throat with a strangled sound when he saw the fuzzy image of Sam Darling standing over her opponent, who was ragdolled gracelessly in the sand.


    Only then did he notice that the crowd had gone up in an uncertain cheer.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Mongrel demanded of Serene, stopping just short of shaking the woman.


    ¡°Greetings, most calamitous,¡± Serene said with a respectful bow toward Nyx before turning to answer the question. ¡°She knocked her out with one kick. It was over before it started, really.¡±


    Oh, thank you, marble! I never doubted you!


    Mongrel barely had time to enjoy his victory, however, before he became aware of the crowd¡¯s mood turning. Their cheers petered out into angry mutterings, then became outright jeering.


    ¡°Guh¡­¡± Mongrel groaned. ¡°What did she do now?¡±


    * * *


    Sam


    Sam knelt before her opponent¡ªwhat was her name, again?¡ªand flipped the woman onto her side so she wouldn¡¯t choke on her own tongue while she softly prodded at the skull and jawline for damage. There didn¡¯t seem to be anything too catastrophic that she could tell from a cursory check. Hopefully she would wake up with nothing but a concussion and a bump on the head.


    Out of the corner of her eye, Sam was vaguely aware of the announcer drifting down toward her, as though lowered on wires.


    ¡°You are the winner,¡± Golden Boy said with a hint of displeasure in his voice, the amplification turned off so only the two of them were privy to the conversation. ¡°It¡¯s distasteful to play with your food. Finish her off so we can move this along.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill her,¡± Sam said with a smile, wiping sand off her knees as she stood. ¡°There¡¯s nothing in the rules saying I have to, right?¡±


    ¡°The customers want blood. Expect it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just too bad for them, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I strongly advise against this.¡±


    ¡°And I appreciate your advice, but I don¡¯t remember asking for it.¡±


    The Entertainer looked like he wanted to say something else, but was silenced by a sharp look. Before ever touching the ground, he jetted up high again, catching the top of the floating cube and hanging off its side.


    ¡°GOOD PEOPLE!¡± he announced in a high-pitched, amplified whine. ¡°YOUR WINNER IS SAM DARLING! IN HER MAGNAMINTY, SHE HAS ELECTED TO SPARE HER ENEMY, TERRY TERRIBLE.¡±


    Cheering turned to a confused murmur, then nothing. Somewhere, a horn honked awkwardly to mark an official end to the fight, almost comedic as it rang over the extended silence.


    Then they began booing.


    Angry faces surrounded the rim of the pit on all sides, mouths working as they hurled insults that quickly turned into an indistinguishable mess of voices.


    Slowly turning to take them all in, Sam felt a grin creeping onto her face.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± she cried, throwing her arms wide. ¡°Thank you, everyone! I couldn¡¯t have done it without your support!¡±


    She folded double in a deep bow, and the jeering got louder. She began to laugh. When she had to begin sidestepping half-empty bottles and miscellaneous food items thrown her way, her laughter rose to an uncontrollable fever pitch.

 Chapter 36 - The Pride of a Professional Loser

    Mongrel


    Mongrel bulled his way to the edge of the pit so that he and his boys were there to keep the angry rabble at bay when the girl came jogging out of a tunnel that led to the fighting area. She was in strangely high spirits considering the extreme vitriol being hurled her way from all sides, not all in the form of words. Despite all that, she wore a huge, stupid grin that almost made her look a bit touched in the head.


    It was only because of his boys acting as shrieking, chest-pounding bouncers that they made it to Sam''s assigned tent without incident. Serene sat her down to check her for injuries, but soon found that there were none, and neither had any of the old ones reopened.


    ¡°They really hate me, huh!¡± Sam said to no one in particular, eyes sparkling.


    ¡°Don¡¯t need to look so damn excited about it,¡± Mongrel grumbled, and wrestled his way out of Nyx¡¯s overbearing hold on his arm. ¡°You¡¯re making this a lot more complicated than it has to be, you know.¡±


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Sam replied with a shrug, and winced at the pain it no doubt caused her injured shoulder. ¡°This is actually great, though!¡±


    Mongrel decided to humor her. ¡°What¡¯s so great? You¡¯ve successfully turned every viewer against you over the course of a single match. It¡¯s actually impressive how stupid that is.¡±


    ¡°For once, he¡¯s right,¡± Serene said, standing up from her foldout stool. She frowned down at Sam over crossed arms. ¡°Fighters are forbidden from interfering with each other between matches, but nothing¡¯s stopping an unhappy spectator from putting a knife between your ribs.¡±


    The meat-headed young woman clicked her tongue with displeasure, though it did not seem to lessen her good-natured giddiness. ¡°You¡¯re all being so negative,¡± she argued. ¡°Look at the upside¡ªnow I know what my role is in this tournament.¡±


    ¡°Role?¡± Mongrel asked.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Sam made an airy gesture with her hands. ¡°I¡¯m the heel!¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh¡­?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a wrestling term for the person you¡¯re supposed to hate. Like¡­ the villain, I guess. Which is a bit ironic, considering I¡¯m the one doing the least amount of evil shit out there, but it is what it is. And if I¡¯m the heel, I¡¯m gonna play my role to perfection.¡±


    Her grin took on a worryingly mischievous edge that made Mongrel''s back sweat. What was this crazy bitch planning, exactly?


    Before he could interrogate her about it, though, she leapt to her feet from the empty chest she had been sitting on and made for the open tent flap with long, hurried strides. ¡°Sorry, gotta run! Ratcatcher¡¯s on soon, and I want to be there to cheer him on.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Sam was already gone by the time Mongrel had gotten anything meaningful out. Wanting to cry, but settling for a weary sigh, he went and plopped down on the seat his witless fighter had just vacated.


    ¡°Why?¡± Mongrel muttered into his hands. ¡°Who behaves like this? Doesn¡¯t she understand that she¡¯s making more work for me?¡± Mongrel sighed again for effect¡ªmore loudly this time¡ªso that the others would understand how badly this had upset his day.


    ¡°There there, Matthew,¡± Nyx murmured, and fussed at his hair in an annoyingly maternal fashion. He could not muster the energy to shake her off. ¡°You have a lot on your shoulders, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mock me,¡± Mongrel growled, though there was not much of an edge to his voice.


    ¡°You know¡­ if all the spectators want our dear Samantha to lose, they will be inclined to bet accordingly in future rounds, don¡¯t you think? And more people betting against her means¡­¡±


    Mongrel slowly let his hands fall from his face. ¡°Bigger payout on betting for her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, Matthew. Clever boy.¡±


    Miraculously, Mongrel felt the fatigue beginning to lift from his shoulders. ¡°You know what,¡± he said with a surge of moral outrage, ¡°on second thought, I think it¡¯s about time that the fighting pits went and picked up some damn principles. So much senseless bloodshed¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s our duty to help our girl show people the way, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Nyx agreed.


    All that stress had given him an appetite. Mongrel was about to send one of the boys to fetch him something hot and greasy, but Nyx offered to do it instead. He was suspicious, of course, but it wasn¡¯t as though he could really stop her in any case, so he gave her leave to go. If she wanted to go running errands for him, who was he to complain? It wasn¡¯t going to earn her any points with him, after all. He knew her game¡ªto charm the pants off him so she could suck his soul out through his cock. Or something of that nature, anyway.


    Well, it just so happened that ol¡¯ Matt Caldwell (esquire) was entirely immune to feminine trickery. He¡¯d let her bash her head against the steel trap of his mind until he died happily in his bed of old age, as he suspected a demoness¡¯s pride would never allow her to admit defeat.


    She¡¯d never get one over on him¡ªno, sir.


    * * *


    Serene


    When the demon known as Nyx left the tent to fetch the pot-bellied idiot food, Serene felt compelled to go with her. That couldn¡¯t really be what she was doing, was it? It had to be a cover for something, or some evil joke Serene could not understand the significance of¡ªthe Fallen Ones did like their pranks¡ªbut for the life of her, she could not figure it out.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    When they were eventually standing in the back of a disordered pile of people trying to get to a food stand, Serene could not contain her morbid curiosity any longer. ¡°Most calamitous,¡± she said meekly, ¡°if I may ask, what is your interest in that¡­ man? He¡¯s an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nyx replied curtly; gaze fixed firmly ahead, hands folded over her trim stomach.


    ¡°Then¡­¡±


    Serene felt herself go stiff as two sharp, yellow eyes fell on her, just for a moment, before sliding past. ¡°That¡¯s not for you to know, sweetness. All you need to know is your place.¡±


    Unable to physically flee, Serene made herself small, stared at her feet. ¡°Yes, most calamitous. Of course. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Good girl. You serve the True Blood, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Serene replied, barely able to force her voice above a whisper. She had worked under Darkside¡¯s infernal whoremasters long enough to understand the consequences of defying one of the Fallen Ones.


    ¡°Excellent. Then listen carefully, sweetness.¡±


    ¡°Yes, most calamitous.¡±


    ¡°You will not sleep with Matthew.¡±


    Despite her utmost efforts, Serene could not help a confused frown knitting her brow. ¡°I¡­ wasn¡¯t planning to?¡±


    ¡°If he offers you money, you will refuse it.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see. Yes.¡±


    ¡°It took a great deal of effort to get that Red House trollop to see the error of her ways. It simply would not do to have him fall in love with somebody else. That would be a terrible waste of my time.¡±


    Fortunately, the demoness was quite obviously not looking for Serene¡¯s input, because she did not believe she could have offered any kind of coherent response to that statement.


    What, exactly, did the Fallen One expect to get out of that repugnant man? Was he actually more than he seemed? Someone of great influence, perhaps? He did not seem particularly rich, at least judging by his shabby clothing¡­


    Serene decided it was a riddle she would never know the answer to, and resolved to put it from her mind before her curiosity landed her in even more trouble.


    * * *


    Sam


    B-Bracket was holding its matches in Hell-3, a pit of identical dimensions to Hell-5. When Ratcatcher was not to be found in the tent allotted to him, she went trawling the fairground for him. At one point, Serene¡¯s prophecy nearly came true when some belligerent, red-faced fellow tried to stab Sam in the gut. She handed the gaping man his knife back twisted into an avante-garde bracelet, then continued on.


    Eventually, she found the guy she was looking for sitting at the top of some tall wooden bleachers that overlooked the Hell-3 pit. It was pretty full, but she managed to convince the person sitting next to Ratcatcher to scoot over enough that she could just about squeeze her butt onto the bench.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Ratcatcher replied, looking a little green in the face. ¡°I heard you won your first match.¡±


    ¡°I did!¡±


    ¡°Congrats.¡±


    ¡°Thanks!¡± After a few moments of silence, she bumped the unassuming man¡¯s shoulder with her own. ¡°So, how are you feeling?¡±


    Ratcatcher glanced her way with a nervous smile, then returned to staring at the fighters lining up in the pit below. ¡°Honestly? Like I might puke and shit myself at the same time.¡±


    Sam chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ll be all right, man. Besides, I¡¯ll be here cheering you on.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Of course! You¡¯ve got that fighting spirit¡ªI can tell.¡± She patted her bicep for emphasis.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Hearing that, he did actually seem to relax a little.


    Sam noticed that Henke was one of the fighters down there when she saw his face reflected in the cube screen that floated above the pit.  After his performance in the qualifiers, she wondered how he would fare in a one-on-one setting. She found herself hoping he would lose¡ªit wasn¡¯t as though his bloodthirsty ways were anything unusual in this place, but there was something about his cavalier attitude to death and unrestrained showboating that she found insufferable.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering,¡± Sam mused, ¡°what¡¯s with that name? Ratcatcher. It¡¯s kind of random, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Ratcatcher scratched the tip of his nose. ¡°Oh, uh, not really that random, actually. You see, I only moonlight as a pit fighter¡ªmost days, I work as a¡­ well, a rat catcher.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s a real job?¡±


    ¡°¡®Course it is. There are probably more rats in this city than there are humans. I do this,¡± he motioned to the pit before them, ¡°because I want to believe there¡¯s something more to this life than hopeless drudgery¡ªI had more than my fill of that in my previous one, thank you very much. Of course, the abilities of a so-so rat catcher don¡¯t necessarily translate to being a great pit fighter, so I haven¡¯t had much luck.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t won any yet, right? I asked a friend about you, and that¡¯s what she said.¡±


    Ratcatcher gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, pretty much. I reckon the only reason the organizers throw me a fight every now and again is ¡®cos people think it¡¯s funny to watch me lose. Like watching a guy slip on the same banana peel over and over again.¡±


    Sam nodded soberly. ¡°I know what that feels like.¡±


    ¡°You do? But you seem so strong¡­¡±


    ¡°Eh, from my other life. I was a fighter back then, too. I wasn¡¯t bad or anything, but I guess you could say my ambition went a lot farther than my body could keep up with. You get used to losing after a while, but it never stings any less.¡± She gave Ratcatcher a slightly pained smile. ¡°Right?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± He paused, then licked his lips and spoke again. ¡°That¡¯s why I decided to go all-in. I knew I wasn¡¯t going to get anywhere as long as I had some wiggle room to back down or fall short, so I signed up for the tournament. I want to know what it feels like to win, even if it¡¯s just once. And if I die trying, well, that¡¯s all right too. At least, that¡¯s what I told myself, but¡­¡± He hugged himself tighter. ¡°It seems my sphincter doesn¡¯t quite agree.¡±


    Henke¡¯s fight was a blink-and-you-miss-it thing. The horn sounded, Henke threw a punch, his opponent¡¯s gray matter fanned out across the sand, and the horn went off a second time just as the headless corpse went sideways.


    Ratcatcher shivered. She was starting to worry that he would actually be sick. ¡°Even if I win my first match by some miracle, that¡¯s what I¡¯m up against in the second.¡±


    She hadn¡¯t thought about that. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can take him. Is he really as strong as everyone seems to think?¡± She frowned at the distant figure that was Henke. He was basking in the overwhelming adulation as he pranced about the pit, waving and pointing and doing the occasional victory backflip.


    ¡°He is that good,¡± Ratcatcher said miserably. ¡°Apparently no one''s even landed a strike on him in years. He''s untouchable.¡±


    ¡°Damn. That¡¯s, uh¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The smile he gave looked more like a nervous tic than an expression of actual mirth. Slowly, reluctantly, the unassuming man peeled himself off the bench. ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯d better start getting ready for my fight¡­¡±


    ¡°Any idea who you¡¯re fighting?¡±


    ¡°A Laborer like you, actually. Some amateur talent named Skullcrusher.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s called that because¡­¡±


    ¡°Because he crushes people''s skulls?¡± Ratcatcher sighed, shoulders hunching. ¡°That¡¯s what people say.¡± He began making his way down the bleachers, but paused and turned in the aisle before he got more than two steps. His eyes were big and pleading. ¡°I¡¯m fucked, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do all right, man,¡± Sam said, and leaned forward far enough to punch him on the shoulder. ¡°You said he¡¯s an amateur, right? That means you¡¯ve got experience on him.¡±


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°Then let that be your weapon.¡±


    Ratcatcher nodded, looking a tiny bit more confident. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Sam watched him go, and was proud of herself that she¡¯d managed to sound so sure.


    Whatever the odds said, she wanted to believe that he could win.

 Chapter 37 - The Pride of a Professional Loser [2]

    Sam


    ¡°You going to eat that?¡± Sam asked, pointing to a half-eaten veggie wrap on the bench between herself and her left-hand neighbor, a man so drunk he looked about ready to keel over on the guy in front.


    He blinked slowly at her, then looked questioningly down at his wrap as though seeing it for the first time.


    ¡°Mind if I take it?¡±


    He shook his head.


    Sam grabbed the greasy packet and tucked in.


    She ate more to still her nerves than anything, watching the small shape that was Ratcatcher walk out into the Hell-3 pit, his larger mirror image on the airborne viewing cube following a fraction of a second later. His opponent¡ªa brutish, bull-necked Laborer¡ªstepped up to stare him down, standing at least a head and a half taller than the Artisan.


    To chase away the darkness of the onsetting night, limelights on scaffolds illuminated the arena with stark, pale light that made Sam¡¯s eyes itch. She didn¡¯t want to think about how it had to feel for Ratcatcher down there, all those lights burning down on him.


    I guess I¡¯ll know soon enough.


    ¡°LADIESSS AND GENTLEMENNN,¡± Golden Boy screeched as he twirled through the air in an enthusiastic one-man waltz. ¡°TO CLOSE OUT THE FIRST ROUND OF THE B-BRACKET, BOY DO WE HAVE AN INTERESTING SHOW FOR YOU!¡± Coming to a sudden stop, sweat-slicked and breathing heavy, the gold-plated man had his scepter out to point at the bigger fighter. ¡°IN ONE CORNER, WE HAVE SKULLCRUSHER, A NEWCOMER TO THE PROMOTION! THEY SAY HE WORKED AS A CLAY SCULPTOR BACK ON EARTH, ONLY WHEN HE CAME TO THE FRONTIER HE DISCOVERED THAT HE PREFERRED WORKING WITH A LIVING MEDIUM. WELL, FIVE OR SIX FLESH SCULPTURES AND A DISHONORABLE DISCHARGE FROM THE MILITIA LATER, HERE HE STANDS. THIS IS A MONSTER WITH A CAPITAL ¡®M¡¯, PEOPLE¡ªAN ARTIST OF AGONY¡ªAND WE¡¯RE ABOUT TO SEE HIM PRACTICE HIS CRAFT!¡±


    Skullcrusher offered his opponent a nasty, shit-eating grin, eyes wide with an unholy fervor. To his credit, Ratcatcher met the man¡¯s gaze almost without flinching. Almost, but not quite.


    I should¡¯ve known this place would attract every psycho in the Frontier. Sam crammed the heel end of the wrap into her mouth; chewed, swallowed, burped against the back of her hand, and instinctively looked around for more. She had to settle for nibbling on a few stray bits of boiled vegetable that had fallen on her shirt.


    ¡°AND IN THE OTHER CORNER,¡± Golden Boy carried on, floating down to Ratcatcher and draping a sympathetic arm over his shoulder, ¡°WE HAVE RATCATCHERRR. HE¡¯S A REGULAR OF OUR LITTLE SHOW, FOLKS, AND WE ALWAYS LOVE TO SEE HIM TRY HIS HARDEST. HE HASN¡¯T HAD MUCH LUCK TO DATE, BUT WHO KNOWS? MAYBE TODAY WILL BE THE DAY FOR OUR HUMBLE FRIEND?¡±


    The laughter from the crowd suggested that they did not find this very likely.


    ¡°Woo!¡± Sam shouted into cupped hands. ¡°Ratcatcher! Let¡¯s go! Kick his ass, man!¡±


    She got a few strange backward glances from other spectators on the benches, and replied with a smile and a shrug, tongue between her teeth.


    The fighters were directed back to their respective corners. Ratcatcher rocked nervously on his heels, doing shoulder stretches, while Skullcrusher stood eerily still, hunched like a predator, always wearing that hungry grin.


    The horn cried a single, mournful peal.


    Skullcrusher shot forward, feet like bricks kicking up sprays of sand.


    Ratcatcher planted himself firmly and stood his ground. Through the screen, Sam could see that his face was a mask of focus, tongue tenting one cheek. When his opponent had crossed more than half the distance between them, he held out a hand, palm down, and called: ¡°Tidy Up [Sand]!¡±


    The surface beneath Skullcrusher¡¯s feet shifted, upsetting his balance, as the sand crept away like something alive, a knot of snakes slithering to unveil the stone foundation that rested beneath a foot of sand.  Coalescing beneath Ratcatcher¡¯s hand, the gathered material made a waist-high barrier that Skullcrusher bulled right into, upending him as he tumbled to the other side.


    Another use of Tidy Up piled Skullcrusher¡¯s entire lower half under a deluge of rushing sand. Ratcatcher got in two solid stomps to the back of the head before scrambling away. If the Laborer was affected by either the sand or the kicks, he displayed little sign of it as he rose growling to his feet, scattering grainy substrate as he laid about him with wild haymakers. He was frothing to beat the Artisan down, but his strikes found only air as his opponent continued to maintain a wary distance.


    ¡°Tidy Up is one of my favorite skills,¡± Ratcatcher explained to no one in particular as he kept up a steady shuffle of feet, his amplified voice echoing across a large section of the fairground. ¡°People don¡¯t give it a chance, and that¡¯s a shame. It¡¯s a lot more versatile than you¡¯d think. Of course, I mostly picked it up because trawling for rats in some infested Outside shithole becomes a lot more tolerable if you can clean up first without needing to get your hands dirty.¡±


    ¡°Shut your fucking mouth, worm!¡± Skullcrusher barked as he kept after the Artisan, clumsy with his great bulk.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Ratcatcher replied, ¡°I get chatty when I¡¯m nervous.¡±


    A misplaced foot caused him to stumble, and that was all Skullcrusher needed to close the distance. Cocking back his fist, he howled: ¡°Strike!¡±


    Arm a blur, he slammed Ratcatcher¡¯s midsection with the loud boom of a cannon firing, sent the recipient sliding on one knee.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Sam grimaced with second-hand pain. That hit had looked positively spine-crunching.


    Skidding to a stop, Ratcatcher coughed trails of saliva, red-faced and breathless. Sand tumbled from the front of his shirt in sheets and double handfuls as he uncurled fists held in a defensive cross over his center.


    He made a shield of sand with that skill to mitigate the damage! Sam realized. It had to take good reflexes to enact that defense in a split second.


    Having slipped back onto the roughly six-foot circle of bare flooring he had exposed earlier, Ratcatcher slammed his hands onto the stone and wheezed: ¡°Imbue: Bind!¡±


    Skullcrusher, who had been advancing rapidly, stopped in his tracks.


    Shuffling back two steps, Ratcatcher touched the ground again and repeated: ¡°Imbue: Bind.¡± Then one more step, and: ¡°Imbue, Amp (Two): Tidy Up [Oxygen].¡±


    Sam had no idea what any of that meant, but there was no visible effect that she could tell. Whatever he had done, all five of his AP crystals winked out within seconds of each other, and he winced with the strain of it. The Tidy Up skill he had used earlier seemed to be one of those cantrips that didn¡¯t cost anything to use, but he had gone all-in on this move¡­ whatever it was.


    Skullcrusher chuckled and began circling the patch of bare earth. ¡°Do you really think I¡¯d walk into such an obvious trap?¡±


    Ratcatcher staggered to his feet and shrugged with a sideways tilt of his head. ¡°Worth a try, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re out of juice. What are you going to do now, worm?¡± Skullcrusher flexed the corded muscle of his left forearm, showing off the four out of his five crystals that still glowed blue.


    ¡°Good thing I¡¯ve got ol¡¯ reliable,¡± Ratcatcher replied with a shaky grin, though he looked like he wanted to be sick.


    Their cat-and-mouse game resumed, with the Laborer chasing the Artisan around the ring as the latter occasionally used Tidy Up to shuffle sand around and buy himself a second of breathing room here or there whenever his opponent got too close.


    It was clear where the fight was headed, though. The difference in their physical power was too great for Ratcatcher to make up, made obvious by the fact that even those perfectly placed head kicks had done zero damage. Skullcrusher had to have at least a few points in Toughness, and Ratcatcher evidently had none in Strength.


    It didn¡¯t seem like he had any tricks left up his sleeve, either. He was all out of AP, and the best that Tidy Up cantrip could do was delay the inevitable. Even that was taking its toll¡ªSam remembered Will talking about something called skill fatigue, and Ratcatcher certainly seemed to be suffering from it, staggering about and shaking his head repeatedly as if to clear it.


    ¡°Come on, Ratcatcher!¡± Sam called, hoping vainly there was still some way for the Artisan to turn it around. ¡°Kick his butt, come on!¡± He probably couldn¡¯t even hear her over all the racket going on around Hell-3, but she couldn¡¯t think of any way to help beyond cheering him on.


    The sinking feeling in Sam¡¯s gut reached a queasy boil when Ratcatcher tripped over his own leaden feet and fell heavily near the center of the pit. He scrabbled back with heels and elbows to keep out of his opponent¡¯s grasp, but Skullcrusher did not waste a moment capitalizing on the Artisan¡¯s misfortune, storming over with murder in his eyes.


    ¡°Tidy Up [Sand],¡± Ratcatcher panted, raising both hands.


    Sand rushed up around his legs and arms, pulled out from the patch of ground Skullcrusher was standing on like a yanked rug. At this point, however, the Laborer was well-accustomed to that particular trick, and stepped onto the bare stone without missing a beat.


    ¡°Pathetic!¡± Skullcrusher roared as he advanced, furious at being denied his prey for so long.


    ¡°You said it, friend,¡± Ratcatcher shot back with a tired laugh. ¡°Interact (Three).¡±


    Skullcrusher¡¯s brows knitted in confusion, then shot up in surprise as he went to take another step and found his foot stuck to the ground. Pulled along by his own momentum, he fell face-first, only barely catching himself with his hands. His angry snarl soon dissipated as he attempted to lever himself back up, only to find that his hands, his chest, and even his cheek were fused to the ground. He thrashed and raged, but with no leverage to push off with, he was caught like a¡­


    Sam could only think of a rodent caught in a glue trap.


    Skullcrusher tried to roar something, but only a hoarse croak came out, and he seemed to be struggling to find his breath, mouth working uselessly.


    Pushing himself to his feet, Ratcatcher waded free of the sand that surrounded him, approaching the big man on unsteady legs. ¡°Holy shit,¡± he gasped. ¡°So tired¡­ I think I need to rest for a minute.¡±


    Without any fanfare, he plopped down on the Laborer¡¯s back, ignoring the feeble movements beneath him.


    ¡°I knew I could hit you all day and accomplish nothing but breaking my own hands,¡± Ratcatcher said, waving hello at some confused-looking spectators. ¡°But even a big fucker like you¡¯s gotta take a breath every once in a while.¡± Looking down at his opponent, he thumped the man¡¯s back apologetically. ¡°What you¡¯re feeling right now is the Tidy Up I set earlier sucking the oxygen from the air around your head. I expect you¡¯ll lose consciousness in a minute or so.¡±


    Ratcatcher sat in silence for a while¡ªchin resting in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. The roar of the crowd had quieted into a speculative murmur as folk tried to figure out what was going on. Then Ratcatcher chuckled to himself and said: ¡°You wanna know something funny?¡±


    Skullcrusher gave only a panicked gasp in reply.


    It was taken as assent. ¡°Rats are actually pretty clever. They¡¯re wary of anything new introduced into their environment, and if they identify something as a trap, they¡¯ll avoid it for weeks afterwards. Makes my job a good bit harder, but you have to admire their resourcefulness. I guess that whole object permanence bit was a little too advanced for you, though. Which, of course, means that you¡¯re actually dumber than the average rat. How¡¯s that feel?¡±


    Skullcrusher¡¯s desperate attempts at getting air were growing weaker, and his eyelids were beginning to flutter shut.


    Soon after, he was completely still.


    [Ratcatcher wins.]


    As she went over the entire chain of events that had just transpired, Sam realized that Ratcatcher had set up that whole thing. He¡¯d planned it all, perfectly predicting how his opponent would act.


    ¡°WOOOOO!¡± Sam shouted at the top of her lungs, the echo of her voice cutting across the fairground. ¡°GREAT MATCH! YOU DID IT! WAY TO FUCKING GOOOO!¡±


    There were scattered cheers and a round of lukewarm applause from those who decided they agreed with her assessment. Most still looked confused, and a little miffed at not getting the result they¡¯d expected.


    Sam descended the bleachers in leaping bounds, taking four steps at a time, to congratulate her new friend in person.

 Chapter 38 - Schemes on Schemes on Schemes

    Sam


    Sam made her way through the crowds and caught Ratcatcher a short way outside the pit. She hit him with a brotherly handshake, but she must have been a little too enthusiastic, because he winced and yanked his hand away until she eventually let go.


    ¡°You did it!¡± she said, catching him under the armpit and propping him up when it looked like he was about to tip over from exhaustion. ¡°How¡¯s it feel?¡±


    ¡°Good, I think,¡± Ratcatcher replied in a thick voice, eyes half-lidded. ¡°I still might puke and/or shit myself, but at least it¡¯s for different reasons.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you don¡¯t look so good. Let¡¯s get you back to your tent, yeah?¡±


    Ratcatcher did not object, so she got him moving in that direction.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t kill that guy, did you?¡±


    The Artisan threw her a lop-sided grin. ¡°It¡¯s funny how people¡¯s minds work. Everyone else who came up to me assumed I did kill him.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t judge you if you did. I understand that things work differently here. It sounded like he was a bad guy, too.¡±


    ¡°No, you were right¡ªI guess you inspired me.¡±


    Sam nodded with a grin of her own. ¡°Nice!¡±


    She had to let him stop and rest several times on the way, and he actually did throw up once before they made it to the tent and she could get him vertical. There was no bed in there, but at least the floor was covered in thick tarpaulin to keep him off the dirt, and there was a pail of clean water so he could wash the bile out of his mouth.


    ¡°All right, where¡¯s it hurt?¡± Sam asked, squatting beside him with a small towel slung over one shoulder.


    ¡°Stomach,¡± Ratcatcher groaned. ¡°And sort of¡­ all over. My head feels like an elephant¡¯s been using it for ballet practice.¡±


    ¡°Is it all from skill fatigue?¡±


    Ratcatcher nodded weakly. ¡°That and the Strike I got hit with. I¡¯ve never used so many skills all at once before.¡±


    ¡°Will you be all right?¡±


    ¡°I think so. Just need¡­ a bit of a breather.¡±


    Sam hiked up his tunic and found his entire midsection gone a dark, angry red. ¡°Oof,¡± she murmured. That was going to make one epic bruise.


    ¡°How¡¯s it look?¡± Ratcatcher asked, trying to crane his neck, but promptly let his head fall back down when it proved too much effort.


    ¡°Looks like the elephant did a couple spins on your belly, too.¡±


    ¡°Nice.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get you right, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve got healing gear back at my tent.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. You don¡¯t need to waste it on me, though¡ªI¡¯ve already accomplished what I came here for. With the shape I¡¯m in, I was thinking about dropping out.¡± He avoided her gaze like he was ashamed of saying it, looking up into the tent¡¯s slanted top.


    ¡°That¡¯s your choice to make,¡± Sam said in a tone she hoped was reassuring, letting his tunic drop. ¡°You have to decide what¡¯s right for you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d never drop out of something like this, though, would you?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°Probably not. But that¡¯s me¡ªI wouldn¡¯t put much stock in that if I were you. Some people I know would call my approach to life suicidally stupid.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. I think it¡¯s brave.¡±


    Sam flashed a smile. ¡°Thanks¡ªI do too.¡±


    Catcher¡¯s voice got small. ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t want to die. Even if I were at my best, I doubt I could ever beat someone like Henke. And the way I am now¡­¡±


    ¡°Like I said, that¡¯s your choice to make. There¡¯s no shame in knowing when to bow out, live to fight another day.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe.¡±


    The tent flap came open to admit another person. Looking back, Sam smiled and waved when she saw that it was Serene, a small canvas medicine bag tucked under one arm.


    ¡°Great timing,¡± Sam said. ¡°Saved me a trip over to Hell-5.¡±


    ¡°I sincerely hope you weren¡¯t planning on tending to him yourself,¡± Serene replied, crossing the small space so that she stood looking down on the supine Artisan. ¡°No offense babe, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve got the delicate touch needed for that kind of work.¡±


    Sam snorted with mock derision. ¡°Good thing Dr. Serene came along, then.¡± She turned to Ratcatcher. ¡°Oh, uh, this is Serene. She¡¯s a buddy of mine.¡± Then, with a look back at the woman in question: ¡°And I guess you already know who Ratcatcher is.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Serene got on her knees beside Ratcatcher and shooed Sam away with an insistent gesture. ¡°You should go take a walk or something. Your friend here needs space to rest¡ªthe less people gawking at him, the better.¡±


    Sam complied, standing away from the man with a shrug. ¡°Whatever you say, doc.¡± Making her way to the tent flap, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. ¡°Thanks for this. You¡¯re a good friend.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Serene rolled her eyes. ¡°Just go already.¡± But before Sam had made it a step, she said: ¡°Wait! Almost forgot¡ªyour opponent for the next round has been decided.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that Trader I told you about¡ªJax. I¡¯ll meet up with you once I¡¯m done here to talk strategy, so don¡¯t go anywhere I can¡¯t find you. You¡¯re on soon.¡±


    ¡°You got it.¡±


    * * *


    Serene


    As soon as Sam left, Serene turned her attention to Ratcatcher and gave him one of the practiced smiles that she knew looked perfectly charming and natural, even though she was dead on the inside.


    ¡°I caught some of your fight,¡± she lied. Nyx had received a report from someone else, and she, in turn, had informed Serene of the major points. ¡°You were very impressive out there.¡±


    The meek little man blushed deeply. ¡°Oh, thank you. I mostly just got lucky, though¡ªit was a pretty risky strategy.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t seem like luck to me.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good. In that case, maybe I didn¡¯t look scared shitless, either.¡±


    ¡°You looked like you knew what you were doing.¡±


    ¡°Do winners always get this many compliments? I think you¡¯d better stop, before it goes to my¡ª¡± He cut off with a startled squeak when Serene hiked up his tunic, letting her fingers trail very lightly across his stomach as she went. When he failed to stammer out a coherent excuse for his unmanly display, he went even redder.


    ¡°Sorry, did that hurt?¡± Serene asked, putting on a servile, slightly vapid inflection.


    Ratcatcher squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a sharp breath through his nostrils. ¡°No, no, I just¡­ wasn¡¯t expecting it, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯m going to put some ointment on that bruising now, is that all right?¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes shot open again, swiveling onto her before sliding meekly aside. ¡°Maybe I¡¯d better do it myself.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. Just lie there and rest.¡±


    Reluctantly, Ratcatcher let his head drop. ¡°Right. Sorry.¡±


    Serene took a small jar of ointment out of the bag and scooped a whitish glob onto the ends of two fingers. It really was all high-quality stuff, and meticulously labeled too¡ªshe wondered idly how an odious fellow like Mongrel could have such a good eye for medicine. Maybe Nyx had procured it for him.


    Ratcatcher flinched when she touched him, but to his credit he didn¡¯t make any undignified noises this time¡ªmaybe because he had been bracing for it, jaw clenched and lips pressed white.


    ¡°I happened to hear you mention forfeiting the tournament when I came in,¡± Serene said casually as she rubbed the ointment into his battered skin, soft but assertive.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m thinking that might be for the best. I¡¯ve already had more than my share of luck just to win the first match¡ªprobably shouldn¡¯t push it further than that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should drop out.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too self-critical. You wouldn¡¯t have made it this far without real talent, and I can tell you¡¯re the type who thinks things through. You probably already have a plan figured out for how to beat the Hero, am I right?¡±


    Ratcatcher hesitated. ¡°Well¡­ I guess so. But it would never work.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re only saying that because losing repeatedly has taught you to dream small. But you¡¯ll never achieve greatness if you can¡¯t even make yourself believe it might actually happen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    Serene rubbed a little harder, letting her thumbs trace the contours of the man¡¯s abdominals, and he let out a small gasp that killed whatever he was about to say. She smiled reassuringly at him, and hated the lie of it.


    Tell him, some small, altruistic part of her urged. Tell him to drop out. Crush his dreams. This man doesn¡¯t need to die. He seemed nice. Too nice for a place like Darkside, anyway.


    But she had her orders.


    I should have kept my fucking mouth shut back there. Maybe I wouldn¡¯t have gotten dragged into this mess.


    But something told her that she had been caught in Nyx¡¯s web since the moment the demon laid eyes on her. Regardless, all she could do now was obey and hope to be released eventually.


    ¡°Do you really think I could win against Henke?¡± Ratcatcher asked, incredulous.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Serene lied, and was surprised that a serpent¡¯s hiss did not escape her forked tongue.


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°Can I tell you a secret?¡± Serene pulled her hands away and began wiping them on the edge of a towel, her skin hot and tingly from the potent ointment.


    ¡°Sure, I guess?¡±


    She leaned close to the man, tucking back a stray strand of hair that fell over her face, and let her breath touch his ear as she whispered: ¡°I¡¯ve been with a lot of men. Weak, strong¡ªeverything in between. I only need to see a man once to know his measure.¡± She placed a finger against his chest when he tried to wriggle away, pinning him in place as though she had skewered him on a fork despite barely touching him. ¡°I see a winner in you. And every girl likes a winner.¡±


    She would have pushed a little more, but was interrupted when a pit attendant came into the tent, and she was forced to drop back to rest on her heels.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to Donate AP for your next match, sir,¡± said the young attendant, bending slightly as he held out his left hand.


    Ratcatcher hesitated, and Serene could see the conflict going on behind his eyes. If he was going to drop out, now would be the best time for it. Then, slowly, his gaze firmed, and he took the man¡¯s hand. After a few seconds, seven of the attendant¡¯s eight AP crystals had gone dark, and five alighted on Ratcatcher¡¯s arm. After that, the attendant swiftly glided out of the room with only a few formal words in parting.


    Ratcatcher looked down at his arm, as though in disbelief of what he had just done, clenching and unclenching his fist. Then he smiled. ¡°Thank you, Serene,¡± he said, and looked her properly in the eye for the first time since she had walked in. ¡°You¡¯re a really kind person.¡±


    Serene caught the compliment like a blade through the ribs. She had the fighter drink an analgesic, gave him another dose to take just before his fight, then all but fled from the tent.


    Why am I like this? Why do I do these things?


    Because of her, the young man in that tent was going to die. And for what? She didn¡¯t really know herself. She had been told to do it, so she had simply carried out her orders like a good dog.


    ¡°Hello, dear,¡± came a smooth voice before she¡¯d gotten a dozen steps outside, making her flinch. Nyx fell into step beside her, yellow eyes blazing.


    ¡°Most calamitous,¡± Serene murmured. ¡°I did as you asked. Ratcatcher¡¯s condition is not good, but he will fight.¡±


    ¡°I know these things already,¡± Nyx replied dismissively. She¡¯d been listening in. Of course she had. ¡°You did well, Catherine.¡±


    Serene stopped in the muddy path, and a man swore at her as he shouldered roughly past her. She barely noticed.


    No one called her Catherine. She definitely hadn¡¯t told the demon her name, and she always kept her mental guard tight against being Identified, so how¡­?


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Nyx asked, turning. She carried herself like an empress¡ªback straight, chest forward, and chin high¡ªdespite wearing an outfit that would have been better suited for Serene¡¯s line of work. ¡°Oh, I see. Yes, you can run along now.¡± She shooed at Serene with a little waggle of her fingers. ¡°I¡¯ll find you when I have need of you.¡±


    Rather than voice any of the boiling outrage she felt, Serene slunk away, the shame over what she had done drowned under the relief of being let off the hook.

 Chapter 39 - Real Wrestlers Never Break Kayfabe

    Sam


    Returning to Hell-5, Sam caught the tail end of the final first-round match in the A-Bracket, where a Farmer went up against an Explorer¡ªthe latter of whom she recognized as the man with the dog she had seen in the preliminaries. The Explorer, who was called Holden, came out on top by letting his familiar maul the other guy while Holden immobilized him with webs shot out of his hands. Once the Farmer lost his footing, the dog ripped out his throat to finish the job.


    Number Three eventually found Sam and dragged her back to the tent, where Mongrel had some choice words about her running off.


    ¡°Let her do as she likes, Matthew,¡± Nyx said sharply, fussing over a nonplussed Number Five with a comb. ¡°Keeping her cooped up in here leaves her nothing to do but work up nerves, and that will hardly improve her performance, will it?¡±


    ¡°Suppose so,¡± Mongrel grumbled. ¡°Still, she should have cleared it with us first.¡±


    ¡°I promise I¡¯ll submit a detailed proposal next time I need to blow my nose or take a shit,¡± Sam said, and laughed at Mongrel''s resulting scowl. She had Number Two make some space on the empty chest so she could take a seat next to him.


    Serene soon returned from her tending to Ratcatcher, looking weary.


    ¡°How¡¯s he holding up?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°Not great,¡± Serene replied, ¡°but he should be on his feet before the second round, at least. He¡¯s decided to keep fighting.¡±


    Sam nodded. She couldn¡¯t help but worry about her new friend, but she¡¯d seen what he could do. She needed to have faith in him, the same way everyone else had faith in her. At least, she hoped they did.


    Serene then held a small lecture on Sam¡¯s next opponent, the Trader named Jax. ¡°Do you know what resurrectionism is?¡± she began by asking.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the religion of people who think the goddess is going to come back if they pray a bunch?¡± Sam replied.


    ¡°Pretty much. Jax used to be one of them, but he left because his methods took a bit of an¡­ extreme turn. He thinks that the only way Era will return is if humans cull all the sinners and infidels from our population, and thereby prove to the goddess that we have repented our ways.¡±


    ¡°He sounds like he¡¯d be a lot of fun at parties.¡±


    Serene blew out her cheeks in a long sigh. ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it, babe. He¡¯s also one of those guys who talks way too much in the afterglow.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted.¡±


    ¡°In terms of fighting, since he¡¯s a Trader, he doesn¡¯t have access to Toughness, Strength, or Dexterity, meaning you outmatch him big-time when it comes to physical stats.


    ¡°Based on his performance in the first round, I¡¯m guessing he¡¯s going to try and wear you down by using skills that stall you and force you to waste energy. Traders have access to a lot of mental attacks, so that¡¯s mainly what you need to watch out for.¡±


    Sam frowned. ¡°That¡¯s good and all, but how do you even defend against a mental attack?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s really not that difficult. Keep your attention sharp and focus on rejecting anything external. Some people find it useful to create images to aid in that. For example, I imagine myself stepping into a small, cozy cottage and locking the door so no one can disturb me inside.¡±


    Sam must have looked confused, because Serene smiled sadly and said: ¡°There¡¯s a surprising amount of politics involved in doing what I do. If you don¡¯t learn to keep your secrets close to your chest, you¡¯ll get dead or taken advantage of, probably sooner rather than later.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Cherry.¡±


    Serene raised a shimmering eyebrow. ¡°Cherry?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like, as a nickname. Do you like it?¡±


    The dark-haired woman gave a small, inscrutable smile. ¡°You can call me whatever you like, babe. I¡¯m not picky. And in any case, you shouldn¡¯t feel sorry for me. I¡¯ve made my bed, and I¡¯m going to lie in it, whatever bedfellows I end up with.¡±


    ¡°That might be one of the most depressing things I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    Serene laughed melodically, the bright notes soured by bitterness. ¡°Then you haven¡¯t spent enough time on the Frontier. There¡¯s no happy here, just shades of miserable¡ªyou notwithstanding, apparently.¡±


    Sam shrugged, smiling. ¡°I can¡¯t help being my sweet little self.¡±


    Nyx cleared her throat. Arms crossed, the sharp nails of her left hand tapped impatiently against her slim right upper arm. ¡°Serene, darling? Maybe we ought to finish strategizing before we dispense with small talk.¡± She put a strange inflection on the name¡ªsharp, somehow, like a knife being drawn.


    Serene¡¯s eyes quickly flitted to the ground, and her head sank in an almost-bow. ¡°Yes, most calamitous. Of course.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Sam looked between the woman and the not-person, rolling her tongue around a bad taste in her mouth. ¡°Nyx, why are you giving my friend orders? Do you know each other?¡±


    ¡°Do relax, Samantha¡ªit was only a friendly suggestion,¡± the demoness said in an airy, lightly patronizing tone, making her breasts bounce as she went up on her tiptoes and dropped back down on her heels, as though to mark an end to the discussion.


    Sam¡¯s eyes narrowed in a suspicious squint. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being dramatic.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s afraid of you. What did you say to her?¡±


    ¡°Why, nothing at all, dear. She is familiar with me by professional reputation, and so has graciously placed herself at my disposal. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°In that case, as of this second she¡¯s not at your disposal anymore.¡±


    ¡°Please let it go,¡± Serene cut in, gaze still downturned. ¡°This doesn¡¯t have anything to do with you.¡±


    ¡°No can do. Sorry to say, but I¡¯m not just stubborn¡ªI¡¯m meddlesome, too.¡±


    ¡°Can we just¡ª¡± Mongrel began.


    ¡°Shush now, Matthew,¡± Nyx interrupted, tossing a withering glare his way, ¡°the adults are talking.¡±


    Mongrel looked like he was about to say something else, mouth hanging open, then clicked his teeth shut and shook his head, muttering something under his breath that might have been ¡®Women¡¯.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to continue my conversation with Cherry,¡± Sam went on, and pointed at Nyx, ¡°once you¡¯ve left.¡±


    The demoness scoffed, twirling a strand of perfectly voluminous hair around her finger. ¡°Stubborn, meddlesome, and forgetful, are we? We¡¯ve been over this already¡ªyou can¡¯t make me do anything I don¡¯t want to do.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll drop out of the tournament.¡±


    Nyx laughed, a little too loud to sound natural. ¡°And why should I care one whit about that?¡±


    Sam shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Why don¡¯t we try it and find out?¡±


    ¡°As threats go, that really is pathetic. It¡¯s a non-starter to begin with. You¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m what? Too stubborn to drop out? Try ¡®too stubborn to lose an argument¡¯.¡±


    Nyx¡¯s jaw worked silently, her bared canines scraping off each other. ¡°I refuse to leave,¡± she spat.


    Sam crossed her arms. ¡°Then you¡¯ll apologize to my friend, and promise not to bother her in the future.¡±


    ¡°You have no right to treat me like some human child.¡±


    ¡°Why not? You don¡¯t seem to have any trouble acting like one.¡±


    The demoness lunged forward, her features contorting into a terrible snarl of rage, fingers curling into claws. She fell short only inches from Sam¡¯s face, teeth bared, a glow of fire smoldering at the back of her throat. Sam did not blink.


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re very scary,¡± Sam said dully, ¡°but you¡¯re the one wasting time right now. Whatever you¡¯re going to do, be about it quick. I¡¯m losing my patience with you, demon.¡±


    Nyx held her predatory posture a few moments longer, then slunk back, seeming to wither under the confused stare Mongrel directed at her.


    It took her five tries to get out a decent apology. Serene looked more horrified at that than when the demon had been threatening bloody murder.


    Sam, for one, was well pleased that she had read Nyx¡¯s motives correctly. Will would have been proud.


    Once everyone knew where everyone else stood, Sam turned her attention back to Serene. ¡°Cherry,¡± she said, ¡°would you help me do some makeup for the next match? I have an idea I want to try out.¡±


    Serene looked apprehensive. ¡°Uh¡­ what kind of idea are we talking about, exactly?¡±


    Sam grinned. ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not even going to tell me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a nice surprise when we get started. So, will you help?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ guess so, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Great! Thanks! Oh, and I think we¡¯ll need to arrange a bit of a wardrobe change, too.¡±


    The other woman looked like she was regretting her decision already.


    * * *


    Sam stepped into the Hell-5 pit to a tide of riotous booing. Arms extended, she laughed and greeted her adoring fans, then put a cupped hand to her ear to indicate that she wanted to hear more.


    A blindfolded man stepped out of the subterranean tunnel on the opposite end of the ring, heavy timber doors creaking shut behind him. He was rangy and sharp-featured, but looked more awkward than athletic, which matched what Serene had said about his not having access to the more physical attributes.


    Sam, wearing a sequined pink vest and shiny green trousers, arms and neck and face painted with rainbow swirls, danced out to the center of the pit while Golden Boy did his usual introductions. She struck a double bicep pose to show off the peace symbols Serene had drawn on them, which drew another wave of derision.


    The organizer was wrapping up and looked about ready to begin the match, but Sam waved him down with eager gestures until, slowly and reluctantly, he dipped down on his invisible strings to hover just above Sam. She motioned that she wanted his voice-amplifying scepter to speak into, and after some deliberation he handed over his gem-encrusted implement.


    ¡°Great to see so many of you here!¡± Sam shouted into the sphere at the top, and her voice boomed across the pit and beyond, cutting through the chaos of voices. ¡°I¡¯m here for one reason, and one reason only¡ªto beat some love and friendship into that fucker over there!¡± She jabbed the scepter in her opponent¡¯s direction, then put it back to her mouth. ¡°No one dies as long as I¡¯m the one left standing! Why?¡± She let an artful pause drag out. ¡°Because I¡­¡± She struck a side chest pose, struggling only slightly to keep the amplifier up to her mouth. ¡°Am¡­¡± She transitioned into a most muscular pose. ¡°The Peaceful Fist!¡± And finally, a grinning lat spread. ¡°Fuck you all, and have a good night!¡±


    Her speech was met with an unparalleled level of vitriol from the crowd, booing and hissing and insults of every shade¡ªsome of which got very personal and impressively creative.


    Once finished, she hurled the scepter, sent it spinning in a high arc, and Golden Boy scrambled to snatch it out of the air. ¡°WELL, WELL, THAT WAS QUITE AN ENTRANCE FROM OUR COLORFUL FRIEND! LET¡¯S SEE IF HER COMPETITION HAS ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT THAT, SHALL WE?¡± He flew across the ring, little white wings fluttering uselessly in the wind, and glided to a halt before the Trader, holding the scepter out to the blindfolded man. ¡°THERE¡¯S AN AMPLIFIER IN FRONT OF YOU NOW. TELL ME, FRIEND¡ªWHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE SELF-PROCLAIMED ¡®PEACEFUL FIST¡¯, EH?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a blasphemer, attempting to appropriate the goddess¡¯s grace,¡± Jax intoned in a low voice. Even amplified, it was difficult to make out his words. ¡°I will enjoy making a holy sacrifice of her body.¡±


    That, it seemed, was all he had to say on the matter. The cheers he got were a little confused at first, but made up for it in volume as more and more people joined in. Despite what Sam had heard about resurrectionists and their reputation in the city, it seemed that folk were happy enough to cheer one on, as long as he was standing against her.


    She grinned, and struck an easy, shoulder-first fighting stance on light feet.


    They will have booed themselves hoarse by the time I¡¯m done tonight, she thought to herself.


    The horn sounded its banshee screech, and Sam began moving toward her opponent.

 Chapter 40 - They Never Tell You How Boring the Job Is

    Will


    His ass ached from sitting on hard tiles. His bad eye itched the way it always did. His good eye was sore from squinting so long in the dark. His breath was sticky from the humid air. He had bug bites in a hundred different places. That was how Will kept his vigil.


    At least it wasn¡¯t cold. Stakeouts in winter were always the worst. Little mercies, he told himself. Silver linings.


    A stubborn drizzle started up. He pretended it didn''t exist.


    From the roof of the four-story tenement building, he could easily see over the ivy-covered walls that surrounded the rented townhouse of Philly Upnorth, the Stormfront merchant that Will had been contracted to kill.


    He seemed a decent enough fellow, all things considered. Staking out a target was a strangely intimate thing, and Will had spent the last two days making himself familiar with every part of Philly¡¯s routine. Both of those days, he had visited the markets bright and early to buy flowers for his wife, whom he had brought with him from Stormfront.


    As he appeared to have a fondness for visiting upscale Topside taverns, Will was certain that he could have found an opportunity to slip something into Upnorth¡¯s drink or applied a bit of contact poison to a surface the man was sure to touch.


    But the lord had insisted on making it messy, so he would give Brimstone exactly that.


    The three-story townhouse was mostly turned down at this time of night, windows dark and still. The building currently had eleven inhabitants: six guards¡ªtwo Laborers to show off, and four somewhat more inexpensive Builders¡ªthree servants that doubled on both cooking and cleaning duties, Upnorth himself, and his wife Irina.


    Philly himself was a Level 11 Trader, but after a thorough Identify scan while the man was asleep, he had concluded that he was unlikely to be a problem, given that his build was not at all geared toward combat. His guard sergeant was one of the Builders, a Level 10. He was the only one Will had to really keep a close eye on. The rest were non-issues.


    A Detect [Life] showed him that most of the household were quietly tucked in their beds, vertical smears of light showing through the walls on various floors. The guards shared two rooms on the first floor, the servants occupied a third, and the merchant and his woman had a master bedroom on the third, though he gathered that Mr. Upnorth had landed himself in the doghouse over something, because they were sleeping in separate rooms tonight.


    Two of the Builders were on duty. One sat in a lantern-lit guard booth just outside the wrought-iron gates, there to turn away anyone who might wish to disturb his master at this ungodly hour. The other patrolled the grounds, scanning for those with more unsavory intentions.


    If only they knew.


    One of the servants was still awake¡ªmaking herself a late-night snack in the kitchen, it seemed to him based on the miming of her ghostly silhouette. He could wait for her to fall asleep, but he figured it was best to take his chances now, as the other servants would soon be up and about anyway to begin preparing food for the household. He did not envy cooks¡ªby profession, not Profession¡ªthe ungodly hours they had to keep. Then again, they were not sitting on a roof in the middle of the night with a numb ass and a swarm of mosquitoes for company, but that was another matter.


    Groaning, Will slowly began to work some feeling back into his stiff body, slate tiles shifting beneath him. He slid down the east side of the roof, out of sight of the townhouse, and caught himself at the edge by slotting his heels into the metal rain gutter. He lit a cigarette off a match and sat there for a bit, letting the smoke in his lungs settle his nerves a bit.


    Silver linings.


    It was a nice couple of minutes, but like all good things, it ended too quickly. Flicking the damp butt into the exposed drainpipe a few feet over, Will clambered back to the top of the roof where his rifle case lay propped against the chimney. He opened it, removed the long-barreled firearm¡ªpointedly ignoring the sword that also called to him from within the padded box¡ªand attached scope, then silencer, then magazine. He draped himself on his belly with arms and rifle propped on the peak of the slanted roof.


    He put his good eye to the scope and took his time lining up the aim, sliding across oceans of black before finding the irregular pool of lantern light that marked the guard booth.


    With a sustained cast of Detect [Life] active, lining up a clean shot through the guard booth¡¯s thin wall was not difficult. Humming softly to himself, he cycled a bullet into the chamber, then squeezed the trigger. The shot that rang out¡ªmuffled by both silencer and his Light Touch passive¡ªwas still loud, but sounded more like someone clapping their hands together hard and less like the tell-tale whipcrack of a high-caliber firearm.


    The Builder inside the booth slumped forward as indicated by his shadow double, struck clean on the dome. Will didn¡¯t usually try for headshots, as they were less consistent than aiming for center mass, but he did not like the idea of a wounded man screaming for help and waking up the whole house. He was certain that he could go through all those guards even if they were awake, alert, and armed, especially with his brand new semblance to tip the scales, but it was an unnecessary risk regardless.


    Though the shot itself was muffled, the sound of wood splintering and a body falling over attracted the attention of the other guard, whose bright afterimage began making its way toward the front, soon rounding the corner of the building.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Will cycled the bolt with a smooth, practiced motion, lined up another shot, fired. Guard number two fell like a string-cut puppet, silent in the dark.


    Sighing, Will pulled himself up, gathered spent bullet casings, and packed them away with everything else as he unloaded the rifle and disassembled its attachable components. He hesitated only a moment before taking out the cursed saber, strapping it on as he stood. It seemed to tug unnaturally at his side, seeking his attention like an insistent, psychopathic child pulling on his shirt hem.


    ¡°Just a minute,¡± Will grumbled, flipping the rifle case shut with his foot. ¡°You¡¯ll get to eat soon.¡±


    Leaving the case on the roof to pick up later, he leapt down to the street, wind rushing and setting his clothes fluttering. Before he could break his legs off the cobbles, he used Repel to kill his momentum, landing in a smooth crouch instead.


    Brimstone was about to get the mess he had ordered.


    * * *


    Sam


    Sam pursued the Trader across the ring, quickly closing on him. Serene had said that Jax would want to stall her out, so she would make sure not to give him that opportunity.


    It had started to rain, just enough to dampen the sand and give her feet a little extra traction.


    Despite being blind, the man seemed to have no trouble keeping track of her as he backed away¡ªnot that it would help him very much, as he was not nearly quick enough to evade her.


    Closing the last bit of distance, her opponent more or less pinned back against the pit¡¯s rounded log wall, Sam led with a flying knee.


    ¡°Peace!¡± Jax called, and Sam suddenly found her legs seizing up, unwilling to do what she asked. Instead, she landed awkwardly and staggered headfirst into the wall as the Trader spun away. She regained her balance quickly and spun around only to feel a hot streak across her cheek, and realized a moment later that he had slapped her.


    It barely hurt. Clearly, the attack had been meant to annoy, not harm. But boy, was it annoying.


    She was already familiar with the Peace skill¡ªthe slavers had used it on her to keep her from fighting back while they captured her, what felt like years ago even though it had only been days. From there, inferring its effect was not difficult. As soon as she felt the pacifying effect wear off after a few seconds, she went after Jax again, this time leading with a safer jab.


    ¡°Peace!¡± he said again¡ªand again, Sam locked up, her fist stopping short of its target.


    While she was still unable to fight back, Jax pressed a hand flat to her face and said: ¡°Illuminate.¡±


    White light filled Sam¡¯s vision before she had time to blink, followed by hot, searing pain, as though boiling water had been poured over her eyes. Snarling as she backed away, she did not see the slaps coming, a quick one-two.


    Sam blinked and wiped furiously at teary eyes, but the white in her vision was slow to fade, eventually darkening into an angry red. Her sight returned in blurry, erratic patches that served to disorient her more than anything.


    ¡°Power Word [Confusion].¡±


    Sam¡¯s stomach lurched, her vision spun and pulsed with color. As soon as she tried to take a step, the ground seemed to shift impossibly beneath her, like she was on an unsteady sea, and she fell to her knees.


    Serene had warned her about this one¡ªPower Word. It could inflict whatever mental effect the user wanted onto a person, but it only worked as long as the recipient was already attuned to the effect being inflicted on them.


    Shaky and still unable to see more than general movements, Sam slowly fought her way back to her feet, tears streaking her cheeks and a trail of queasy drool extending from her bottom lip. She tried to follow Serene''s advice on repelling mental attacks, imagined herself inside a house with the door locked and the windows shuttered.


    ¡°You little shit,¡± she spat, turning blindly around and around to try and catch some vague glimpse of her opponent. She couldn¡¯t even hear him over the din of the crowd. ¡°C¡¯mere man, I just wanna talk to you¡ªmy fist has something it really wants to say to your face.¡±


    Another slap streaked across her cheek, then she heard: ¡°Power Word [Rage].¡±


    Whatever focus or composure she had been able to scrabble together was instantly shattered, drowned in a sea of burning, thumping red. Her heart raced until she felt it beating like a jackhammer on the inside of her ribcage, and she tasted blood as she bit through her own gums with grinding molars.


    Whatever she had been thinking about a second ago was no longer important, and the only thing that mattered was finding the miserable rat fuck named Jax and smashing him to a bloody pulp.


    Flinging herself blindly in the direction of the last slap, she went tumbling when she struck nothing, was back on her feet in less than a second. She swung, got slapped again, aimed a kick in that direction, hit nothing. Then, as soon as her vision began to return, another ¡°Illuminate!¡± plunged her back into bright oblivion. She punched and kicked and tackled the air, drool foaming at the corners of her mouth, cheeks aching with how tightly her facial muscles were pulled.


    Every missed attack only stoked her anger, and the occasional slap that came her way wasn¡¯t doing a bad job of it either.


    Then, suddenly, she felt a lucky spinning back fist connect with something that was simultaneously hard and flabby. A face. Bones crunched satisfyingly. With a howl of sadistic glee, Sam leapt in the direction she had sent her opponent, found clothing under her fingers, and dragged herself into a mount. She did not need to see to pummel the person beneath her with elbows and hammer fists until resistance ceased, and the weakly flailing arms that opposed her fell away.


    Then, fist raised over her head, poised to continue until she powdered the man¡¯s skull, Sam halted. The fog slowly began to clear. Her vision was returning, too, and she began to make out the bloodied, swollen face of the Trader, his blindfold torn off and discarded off to one side.


    He breathed raggedly, blowing tiny droplets of bloody spittle with each exhale, and his eyes wheeled about beneath stitched-shut lids as he straddled the line between waking and unconsciousness. She had knocked at least a few of his teeth in, and his nose was folded nearly flush with his cheekbone.


    ¡°Ooh,¡± Sam panted, working her fist, fighting the urge to let it find its mark one more time, ¡°that was a close one.¡±


    ¡°Illu¡ª¡±


    Sam yanked the man up by his shoulders and knocked skulls with him. ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± she said lightly, and let the now unconscious man fall back to the sand. ¡°Give it a rest for a minute, will you?¡±


    The horn soon sounded to mark her victory. Once attendants came to tend to Jax and confirmed that he would live, Sam stood to greet the deluge of presents flying in from the audience members ringing the edge of the pit. This time, they had prepared better material, trying to hit her with actual rotten fruit and sackcloth bundles filled with what appeared to be cow manure, if the smell was anything to go by.


    She laughed, arms outstretched, face up to the rain. "Doesn''t look like such a big tough murderer anymore, does he?" she shouted. "Almost looks cute when he''s sleeping like that!"


    She would have liked to keep her taunting going a while longer, but she knew it was probably time to bow out when a fist-sized rock whizzed past her ear. Through a bit of nimble dodging she managed to stay unsullied, and hit a quick victory pose before capering through the open doors of the tunnel she had entered from.

 Chapter 41 - Sinister Services So Surprisingly Economical

    Irina


    Irina tossed under too-hot, clinging sheets, rolling round and round and feeling about as graceful as a manatee while she tried in vain to find a comfortable position.


    Sleep would not come. Finally forced to admit it, she kicked the covers away with a stream of muttered oaths as she sat stick-straight, mussed hair bunched uncomfortably warm about her neck.


    It was all Phil¡¯s fault. Once a sweet, sensitive man, he had gained an altogether too inflated opinion of himself after being made first of merchants in Stormfront. Indeed, he¡¯d had no qualms dragging his wife across the whole Sixth Octant with nothing but half-hearted lies to string her along.


    She was furious with him. Fuming. Incensed. She had that right, didn¡¯t she? He deserved that much, didn¡¯t he? Forcing them to come to this terrible cesspit of a city¡ªnot for a quick visit, as she had been told, but to live. She had no idea how a man¡¯s head could be so oversized and so empty at once, but Phil proved that biological anomaly possible with ease.


    She was angry. Really angry.


    But¡­


    Also lonely. And scared. And even more scared because she was lonely, and even more lonely because she was scared.


    Irina could not forgive him. He couldn¡¯t lie to her face and upend her life, and expect a few bouquets of flowers to patch everything up. She was not some pet for him to pull about wherever he liked, or some accessory to hang over his arm.


    She couldn¡¯t forgive him.


    But she wished she could. She wanted to hear him out. He wasn¡¯t a bad man, was he? If only his excuses were a little better, so she could convince herself to believe them.


    Irina listened to the patter of the summer drizzle against the window on her left, flopped back down on her back to give sleeping another try. The heat didn¡¯t help. Neither did the bustle from downstairs. Something like scuffing of furniture, and what was certainly a woman¡¯s eager squeal.


    I swear to god, Jonna better not be letting one of those brutes into her bed again.


    The Builders were polite enough¡ªit was the new ones, those two Laborers, who were the problem. They thought they could get away with anything, since they were too valuable to be gotten rid of.


    The most infuriating part was that they were right. If Phil was going to have them living in a hellhole like Sheerhome, they would need the kind of protection only a Laborer could provide.


    Ever since they had been hired shortly before leaving Stormfront, Troy and Scalps had grown increasingly more bold in their violations, and were now close to incorrigible.


    She would have to speak to Phil about that. Laborers made better guards than Builders as a rule, but what good was a guard who didn¡¯t follow orders¡ªwho treated his master¡¯s home as a playground for his own enjoyment? They would need to be punished, somehow.


    Phil should have known to do that already. She shouldn¡¯t have to tell him. Of course, she wasn¡¯t speaking to him at the moment, which was no less than he deserved. But if she didn¡¯t tell him, he might never figure it out for himself.


    Irina''s dignity lost a decisive battle against her more irrational emotions, and she decided that, yes, the middle of the night was the best time to bring this up. The guards¡¯ whoring was disturbing her sleep, after all. She could still hear them coursing like hounds downstairs, no doubt getting all sorts of fluids on the furniture that they expected her not to notice.


    Spurred on by righteous indignation, Irina went to leave the bedroom, then stopped at the door, hesitant, and went back to brush her hair a bit and switch into a nicer nightgown. Why should she suffer the embarrassment of looking disheveled in front of her husband, after all? And, well¡­ maybe if she reminded him what he was missing, he would try a little harder to win back her trust.


    She really hoped he would.


    Irina padded softly through the hall of the top floor, cursing the floorboards for creaking, then cursing herself for moving about like a furtive mouse inside her own home, while the servants and guards were downstairs living large as cats. It still felt strange, thinking of this empty place as her home.


    Carrying a lit candle, she inched the door open to Phil¡¯s room. It was their room, damn it¡ªshe had as much right to be there as he did. Why did she feel like a common thief stealing in through someone¡¯s backdoor? Pushing the door shut just as softly, she went close to the large bed, raised her flickering light to study the lumpy shape curled on its side beneath the covers.


    Silent, she noted. Not snoring. Meaning¡­


    ¡°I know you¡¯re awake,¡± Irina said.


    Phil was motionless at first, then slowly began to stir, sheepishly sitting with the covers falling to his waist, a full row of AP crystals¡ªand then some¡ªglinting on his forearm in the dark. ¡°Dove?¡± he said. It was difficult to make out his features in the dark, but he sounded unsure of himself.


    ¡°The guest bed is uncomfortable,¡± Irina explained, mustering all her dignity as she clutched her nightgown shut with her free hand. ¡°And I believe our guards are enjoying intimate relations with the hired help, against your express instructions.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Phil muttered, and rubbed at his head. ¡°I¡¯ll speak with them in the morning. And if the bed¡¯s no good, we can¡­¡± He hesitated. ¡°We could swap. I don¡¯t mind. Or¡­¡±


    ¡°Or?¡±


    He returned an indistinct mumbling that trailed off into nothing. Then, clearing his throat, he said: ¡°Dove, if you would just let me explain, I¡ª¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯ve explained a hundred times.¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯re unhappy about the move. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m unhappy!¡± Irina went and set down the candleholder on a small sitting table, a little harder than intended, and threw herself into a padded armchair beside it, arms crossed petulantly. Wasn¡¯t she entitled to be a little petulant? ¡°Who would ever want to live in a place like this? It¡¯s dangerous. They keep slaves here. They¡¯re barbarians.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a coastal city. They¡¯re all like that.¡±


    ¡°How does that make it any better?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. Look, I couldn¡¯t refuse, all right?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the first of merchants! You¡¯re a powerful man! Don¡¯t pretend like you don¡¯t have any kind of say in your life.¡±


    ¡°Irina, when the grandmaster of the merchant¡¯s guild and Lady Winter ask you to do a thing, you do it.¡±


    ¡°Then you should have told me about it. We should have discussed it together. You tricked me, Phil.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± He sounded so sad. She repressed the sudden urge to embrace him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I should have told you. It was wrong of me.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you do it?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­ Because I worried that if you knew I had to come here to stay, you¡¯d never come with me.¡±


    Irina uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again, idly kicking one slippered foot in the air. ¡°You never told me that part.¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I can see why you wouldn¡¯t. I¡¯m your wife, Phil! Do you really think so little of me?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡­ Of course not, but I¡­ I¡­¡±


    ¡°You, you, you what?¡±


    ¡°I was scared. It¡¯s not like I wanted to come here either¡ªI couldn¡¯t handle the idea of losing you, too. So I lied. I acted selfishly, and immaturely, and I¡¯m sorry. There¡¯s nothing more I can say beyond that. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you, and I''ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Phil,¡± Irina said, trying to keep her voice from breaking. ¡°Don¡¯t ever worry about a silly thing like that ever again. I might have the maids put chili powder in your morning tea for a few weeks next time you pull something like this, but I¡¯m not going anywhere. Because I¡ª¡±


    The door to the bedroom came open. Irina turned her head, ready to yell at whatever idiot member of the household staff had decided to disturb them at this ungodly hour. The anger died in her throat when she saw the silhouette of an altogether unfamiliar man standing in the doorway. The sleeves of his coat ran down to his gloved hands, sheet concealed.


    ¡°Sorry for intruding,¡± the man said in a cold, almost emotionless voice. ¡°Mistress Irina, you might want to leave the room for a minute. I have some business with your husband.¡±


    Irina was unable to reply. Frozen from eyebrows to toe tips, she gaped as the stranger entered the room, invading the space meant only for her and her husband. He carried a sword¡ªa long, curved blade that glinted like fire-veined silver in the candlelight. Dark splotches covered his clothing¡ªblood, she realized numbly.


    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± the man muttered, and strode past her. Rounding the bed, the curved sword went high, threatening to fall like the long fang of a serpent.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Phil spoke, more confused than afraid.


    Then the sword plunged into his guts, and he looked even more confused as he stared at the length of bright steel.


    Irina screamed.


    But Phil screamed louder. A moment after the blade entered him, it was like something took him over¡ªsomething unnatural. His body twisted as though he were a sodden towel being wrung out by a pair of giant hands. The muscles of his naked torso spasmed violently, squirming and quivering beneath skin. His cry was abruptly cut off as his mouth slammed shut, jaws clenched tighter, tighter, tighter until she could hear his teeth begin to crack.


    His eyes were terrible to look at, full of panic and agony.


    Irina rose up. She had to help him, to do something, to¡ª


    She had not made it three steps when the stranger, without looking, held out his free hand toward her and said: ¡°Repel.¡± She was promptly sent flying right back into the armchair, the thing tipping onto its back legs from the force of it before thumping back down again.


    ¡°Stay there,¡± the man instructed tersely. ¡°You don¡¯t want to touch him right now. What he¡¯s got is contagious.¡±


    For some mad reason, Irina did as she was told. Maybe she loved Phil less than she thought she did¡ªmaybe she would have done anything at that moment, to keep the terrible torture that was happening to him from being visited upon her, too.


    She watched in mute horror as her husband was unmade. The spasms became so violent that his bones threatened to jump out of their sockets, joints bending the wrong way around, and his muscles began to tear away from their fastenings with terrible, sickening sounds.


    When he finally went still after what felt like an eternity, he was almost unrecognizable; body contorted, wearing such a terrible visage of horror as she had not known a human could make.


    The stranger extracted his blade in a calm, businesslike fashion, wiped its bloody end on the bedsheets, and turned to face Irina. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± he said.


    Irina felt like she was floating in a humid fog, hardly able to breathe. ¡°You¡­ murdered him,¡± she worked out, hardly believing it to be true even though she was staring at his corpse, the pungent stench of his perforated bowels thick in the air.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the stranger replied, sounding mildly apologetic.


    ¡°Are you going to kill me, too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not. Are you going to make me?¡±


    ¡°You killed my husband.¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°I should¡­ I should¡­¡±


    ¡°Avenge him? Kill me?¡± One second, the man stood ten feet away, sword at his side. Then she blinked, and suddenly he loomed over her, the point of his weapon hanging a fraction of an inch from her throat. ¡°Let me save you from that deliberation. I don¡¯t want to kill you, but if you insist on joining your husband, I will oblige you. Do you want to die, Irina?¡±


    Irina stayed very still, unable to look away from the blade threatening to give her life a very abrupt, very painful end. ¡°No,¡± she croaked.


    The stranger nodded, taking a step back and sheathing his long blade with a serpentine metal hiss. ¡°Good.¡± He flashed a strangely friendly smile in the dark. He studied her for a moment, then said: ¡°You¡¯re a Scholar. Do you happen to have the Message skill?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± She had done most of Phil¡¯s correspondences for him.


    ¡°Excellent. Just excellent. You have contacts in Stormfront, I trust?¡±


    ¡°Y-Yes.¡±


    ¡°How high?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Who is the most powerful person you can reach?¡±


    Irina grappled with the question for a moment. ¡°Probably¡­ the grandmaster of the merchant¡¯s guild.¡±


    ¡°That will do fine. In that case, I will write out a letter for you to send the grandmaster, and he, in turn, will pass that letter on to Lady Winter.¡±


    She did everything he asked, waiting for him to scribble a quick note on a scrap of paper retrieved from the office down the hall. Folded into a waterproofed envelope and sealed, she opened a window and sent it out into the late night to zip off northeast, seeking its destination in faraway Stormfront.


    She had no idea what the letter said. She didn¡¯t want to know.


    Irina was sure that the stranger would kill her once she had served her use, but he didn¡¯t. He just¡­ walked out, as inauspiciously as he had entered. It was as though he vanished from existence the moment she lost sight of him, with no footsteps to mark his exit down the hall.


    Irina did not stay in her armchair long. She couldn¡¯t stand to look at the twisted thing Phil had been turned into. Shuffling out of the master bedroom, she began aimlessly wandering the house without any conscious thought in mind. Maybe she was looking for help. Maybe she was just following some primal instinct to get as far away from this terrible place as possible.


    She began finding corpses when she made it to the first floor. Men butchered, cold faces frozen in horrific screams, most still in their underclothes. Body parts scattered like lost toys. The Laborers had died as quick as the rest, she noted with a bout of hysterical laughter. What had been the point of putting up with them all this time?


    She found the servant girls huddled in their room. The door was not locked, but none of them had attempted to leave¡ªevidently, the murderer had instructed them to stay put, and they had not dared risk his wrath.


    Irina knelt down with them, and together they wept.


    She''d been lonely earlier. Now she was truly alone.

 Chapter 42 - The Sweetest Curse One Can Endure

    Serene


    Mongrel¡¯s strangely human-like chimpanzee familiars held the rabble at bay while they waited for Sam to emerge from the ramp that led down into the pit. Despite being dirty and bloody and red-eyed, she was in tremendously high spirits as she met up with them.


    ¡°Congrats, babe,¡± Serene said with a hesitant smile. ¡°That was a really nice performance.¡±


    ¡°Thank youuu,¡± Sam hummed, doing a happy little dance-like shimmy as she approached the others in a way that was not entirely unlike a dog excitedly wagging its tail. ¡°That Power Word thing he did was a bit scary, though. I¡¯m lucky I didn¡¯t kill him by accident.¡±


    ¡°If you did, it would certainly have been his own fault,¡± Nyx intoned dryly, still looking a little sour after the talking-to Sam had given her. Serene tried her best not to think about it. That was a bomb just waiting to go off in her face.


    Any worries she might have had were roughly shaken from her mind as she was enfolded in a big, crushing embrace, Sam¡¯s laughter loud in her ear.


    Serene spent half her day with arms and legs wrapped around men and women of every description. It never made her feel anything. Taking another person unto herself was a purely mechanical action, like picking up a box and putting it back down again. For some reason, this was different.


    For some reason, this stranger she¡¯d known for all of a day made her feel safe in a way she only remembered from hazy memories of a childhood over a lifetime ago. For some reason, those warm, strong arms wrapped around her made her feel like crying.


    She had not meant to return the embrace at all, but suddenly she found that she was the one clinging on as the other woman began prizing her free. She jerked back, folding her hands so tight about each other that she heard several knuckles pop.


    God, what¡¯s wrong with me? she thought to herself, removing herself a few steps from the group as she watched Sam receive praise in various shades between sarcastic and sincere from human, demon, and hooting apes. She reminded herself, as she had several times that night, that she didn¡¯t know this woman, and none of this mattered to her one way or another, and that the only reason she¡¯d come along on this mad escapade was the fact that she didn¡¯t have anything better to do with her evening.


    She was even less convinced by her own arguments than she had been the other times. Serene prided herself on her ability to read people, and there was a brightness surrounding the big dopey Laborer so strong it almost hurt to look at. She found herself inescapably drawn to that intoxicating energy, a moth bouncing against the glass of a lamp, desperately wanting to bask in the light within even if it burned her to ash.


    For some reason, just standing near Sam seemed to shift her whole perception, made her feel like maybe life was more than just an endless cycle of fucking and sleeping and drunken self-loathing.


    Serene wondered how a woman like this could possibly have ended up in a place like the Frontier. What was the catch? Where was the fatal flaw? Well, she was mad, sure, and utterly reckless, but even that had a strange sort of charming innocence to it.


    ¡°Probably should have run that name by us, kid,¡± Mongrel said to Sam once the congratulating had been dispensed with.


    ¡°Why?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Why? Because it¡¯s a damn disaster!¡±


    ¡°I like it.¡±


    ¡°Peaceful Fist.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯re going to call yourself? Seriously?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it?¡±


    ¡°Well, for a start, it¡¯s terribly corny.¡±


    ¡°I like corny.¡±


    ¡°All right, but that only leads to the next philosophical consideration¡ªnamely, how the fuck can a fist be peaceful? Isn¡¯t that an oxymoron?¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s ironic! Man, you wouldn¡¯t get it.¡± Sam looked to Serene with a pleading gesture for support.


    ¡°It¡¯s not good,¡± Serene said with an apologetic shrug. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a bit funny, but more in a ¡®laughing at you¡¯ than ¡®laughing with you¡¯ sort of way.¡±


    Sam huffed indignantly. ¡°Everyone¡¯s a critic.¡±


    Mongrel chuckled and gave the back of her head a playful smack. ¡°Not to worry, kid¡ªjust keep winning, and everyone will be happy.¡±


    I should get out of here, Serene thought, uneasy. There¡¯s no way this ends well for me. Attachments never ended well¡ªit just meant leaving yourself open for someone else to hurt you. That was why Serene kept all her acquaintances shallow, ties easily severed. This violent, greedy tug she felt was beginning to terrify her. I need to get out of here.


    Minutes later, she found herself tending to Sam¡¯s wounds in the tent, not quite sure how she had talked herself into it.


    The deep bite on the Laborer¡¯s shoulder had come open, cracks in the glue seal filled with dark blood. Her eyes were raw and bloodshot, and she had mild burns on the upper portion of her face where Jax had Illuminated her. Serene wasn¡¯t too familiar with that skill, but it shouldn¡¯t have been that strong, should it? It hadn¡¯t been Amplified either, meaning there was certainly something fishy going on. Then again, it hardly mattered now. She suspected that the Trader wouldn¡¯t be eating solid food for a few months at least.


    Serene cleared away the old glue and replaced it with a new patch-job. Unfortunately, there was not really anything in the medicine bag that could be used on the eyes, so she would simply have to deal with the slightly blurred vision.


    ¡°I think Ratcatcher¡¯s fight is up soon,¡± Sam said, rubbing one eye violently with the heel of her hand.


    ¡°I guess so.¡±


    ¡°Want to watch it with me?¡±


    Serene hesitated. Her guts twisted with guilt. ¡°Yes. Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°Are you all right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Serene said¡ªtoo quickly, she realized. ¡°Why would you ask me that?¡±


    ¡°You just look sad. Sadder than usual.¡±


    ¡°How would you know? I met you yesterday.¡±


    Sam just shrugged, like that was no great thing. ¡°You don¡¯t want to talk about it, then?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Then let¡¯s go.¡± Smiling brightly, Sam hopped to her feet and dragged Serene outside.


    They visited Ratcatcher¡¯s tent, but found that he had already left for the pit. They went to his corner, and managed to talk their way past the attendants standing outside the tunnel to get a word with the fighter before the match.


    ¡°Do you mind if I go in alone?¡± Serene asked. ¡°There¡¯s something I need to speak with him about.¡±


    ¡°Sure, I guess,¡± Sam said with a confused shrug. ¡°Wish him good luck from me, will you?¡±


    ¡°I can do that.¡±


    Serene hurried into the tunnel, unease growing stronger with every echoing step in the unlit darkness, until she saw the delicate-looking Artisan silhouetted against the thin bars of light that squeezed through the gaps in the closed doors leading out into the ring. A single lantern burned on the wall opposite the man, but the guttering light only barely touched his features, lining his face with a thin amber contour.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need anything,¡± came the man¡¯s voice, brittle with fear. ¡°Actually, wait. Do you think there¡¯s still time to visit the privy before I go out there?¡± Then, as she drew nearer, he let out a small yelp. ¡°You? Ahem, sorry¡ªyou weren¡¯t who I was expecting.¡±


    ¡°You should drop out,¡± Serene said quickly, convincing herself she was doing the right thing. Why did doing the right thing always feel so bad?


    ¡°What?¡± asked the man, cut from deep shadow. ¡°You¡¯re the one who said I should keep going.¡±


    ¡°I know. I was wrong before. You should quit the tournament.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯ve got a chance?¡±


    ¡°No. Well, I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s just not worth the risk. You¡¯re still weak from that last fight, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Not too bad. The stuff you gave me worked like a charm.¡±


    ¡°Please¡ª¡±


    There were more footsteps approaching, and soon two attendants entered the little circle of lantern light. Ushering Serene and Ratcatcher aside, they set about opening the heavy doors, spilling bright white limelight and an overwhelming crush of shouting voices into the mouth of the tunnel.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Ratcatcher said as he backed away toward the doors. Now starkly backlit, she could make out his wide smile¡ªa brave effort, but she saw the strain in it. ¡°Whatever the outcome, this is what I want. I appreciate you talking me into it.¡±


    Serene took a step after the man, half reaching for him, but stopped herself short, let her arm drop. ¡°You won¡¯t reconsider?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Then you better win.¡±


    Ratcatcher made to walk out onto the sand, but flung a look back over his shoulder. Strangely, he looked more confident now¡ªas though, now that the option of running away was gone, so was his fear.  ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going out there to lose.¡±


    ¡°Sam Darling says good luck.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°Good luck.¡±


    Ratcatcher flashed a thin-lipped grin. ¡°Thanks.¡± Again, he made to leave. Again, he hesitated. ¡°If I win,¡± he said, looking away as he struggled with the words, ¡°will you¡­ would you want to do something, sometime?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯d like that.¡± In truth, Serene did not feel like doing much at present except spew up everything she had ever eaten. Instead, she caught him by the wrist, made him spin around, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Like always, it was a purely mechanical act, no emotion or fondness behind it, but she reckoned he deserved something for his efforts, and it was the only thing she could give him.


    His eyes went very wide. He started stammering something out, but she silenced him with a finger to his mouth. He smiled then, gave a small nod. She pushed him away by his chest, and he tottered off, eventually turning and stepping out into the pit. The doors closed behind him with a final-sounding thud, and Serene hugged herself as the attendants began ushering her back out of the tunnel. She very much hoped that she was not about to have a man¡¯s death on her conscience.

 Chapter 43 - Red is the Color of Trust

    Will


    The work was finished.


    Will¡¯s fingers still jerked with painful spasms, a lingering reminder of Anathema¡¯s unclean power. But it was over. The sword was safely sheathed, back in its case, and all that remained for Will was to report in and receive payment.


    Then he could go back to Sam¡ªshe¡¯d surely be asleep by this time, so he¡¯d just slip into bed beside her and try to forget this night had ever happened.


    No one was allowed in or out of the military compound at night except the occasional guard patrol, but the watchers at the gates knew better than to question Will¡¯s presence, and let him through without argument.


    Brimstone would have retired to his chambers by now, unreachable if not asleep¡ªafter all, the popular rumor went that the lord never slept at all. Complete drivel, of course. It was no issue, however, as he could just deliver his report to Handsome instead. Will would sooner have believed that the lord¡¯s advisor was the one who never slept¡ªthe man kept odd hours, and always seemed to be overseeing something or another.


    Will bullied his way into the keep itself, expecting to find Handsome in his study, where he managed the massive heap of accounting and correspondence and logistics and intelligence gathering required for a large city like Sheerhome to function. Most likely, Handsome had just as much power as the lord did in the city¡¯s day-to-day operations¡ªmore, even.


    Will jolted to a sudden stop, snapped out of his idle musings, as he wandered into the main hall, finding it brightly lit and suffused with the pleasant smell of cooked ham.


    Brimstone sat in his high chair at the far end of the hall. Handsome stood at his side, one hand gripping the backrest of his master¡¯s seat, eyes fixed straight ahead. In front of them lay two people, chained to the floor and slumped in shivering, groaning heaps. They had been stripped nude, and large portions of their bodies were covered in nasty, black and red burns, wisps of smoke rising from them.


    Not ham, Will realized, feeling his gorge rise. Human flesh.


    He needed to be sick. It was only by some miracle that he held it in. It was too late to leave now, so he forced himself to slowly cross the empty hall under his liege¡¯s silent, bloodshot gaze. The smell grew stronger. Another wave of bile soured his throat. He swallowed it down. Eventually, he found himself only feet from the two prisoners in order to present himself before the high chair.


    Only now did he recognize them.


    ¡°My wife and my healer,¡± Brimstone intoned in a slow, cool drawl, ¡°have conspired to kill me.¡±


    Will felt Dawn¡¯s pleading gaze bore into the side of his head, and ignored it. Her golden hair had been burnt to a sooty fuzz, and her face was now as ruined as that of her husband¡ªfine features and smooth skin reduced to a mask of livid, burn-slick flesh.


    Will took several calming breaths to make sure his voice would come out smoothly, then said: ¡°I see, my lord,¡± with feigned neutrality. He unslung his rifle case and set it down next to him, unable to keep his fingers from trembling.


    ¡°You know, of course, that I only eat food I¡¯ve prepared with my own hands,¡± Brimstone went on.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Well, Dawn convinced me to allow her to cook for me. I trusted her.¡±


    Will could not produce more than a shallow nod.


    ¡°The meal was poisoned. I suffered from terrible afflictions of the stomach and head, and so I trusted my healer to cure me. He told me I must be imagining the symptoms.¡±


    The healer in question¡ªWalther, a Level 12 Physician¡ªgasped and spluttered on the floor. ¡°My lord¡­¡± he croaked. ¡°I never¡­ I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    Then, with a low whoosh, he was suddenly on fire, and his agonized screams filled the hall.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Brimstone continued conversationally over the crackle of skin and the sizzle of fat, as though he did not notice the burning man at all, ¡°he said this because he was the one responsible for providing the poison in the first place. He hoped I would die a swift, painful death, so that he and my wife could assume power for themselves. Unfortunately for them, they did not know that I have two ranks in Poison Resistance.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Will¡¯s eye twitched every time the healer¡¯s howls peaked, every time his thrashing grew especially fierce. ¡°Dreadful, my lord.¡± He was referring mostly to the victims of this tragedy. ¡°What is to be done with them?¡±


    ¡°What does it look like?¡± The tone did not change, but Brimstone¡¯s eyes narrowed a fraction. ¡°The flames can have them¡ªI¡¯m done with these traitors.¡±


    Will felt his heart batter against the inside of his ribcage. He knew it was coming. It had to be.


    ¡°The only other person in my vicinity with such a knowledge of unwholesome compounds and their usage would be you, Master One-Eye.¡±


    And there it was.


    ¡°Of course, you are beyond suspicion, my friend. You have carried out every task I¡¯ve set you to, even the unreasonable ones, and have never shown any tendency toward deceit. You, I believe, are a man I can trust.¡±


    Will stared into the other man¡¯s face for several moments, trying to figure out if he was being toyed with, but Brimstone¡¯s scar-stiff features revealed nothing. He did not feel any relief when that lipless mouth peeled back in a ragged, toothy smile. Regardless, he made a shallow bow and said: ¡°Thank you, my lord, but I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m no better than any other cutthroat on the Frontier. To trust is to die. The blade that serves its master so admirably can just as easily be turned against him by his enemy, if he does not keep a firm hold on it.¡±


    ¡°Too true, friend. Too true. And how are you finding the strength of my grip?¡±


    ¡°None firmer, my lord.¡±


    Brimstone shared a brief look with Handsome. The wrinkly-faced advisor nodded, and Brimstone fixed his attention on Will once again, looking satisfied. ¡°Another sovereign might hear words of that nature and think treason. I, however, find them refreshingly honest. I trust you to continue speaking your mind in the future.¡±


    Will nodded. ¡°I will.¡±


    ¡°And I ask that if any interested party approaches my Misfortune to turn him against me, you will bring it to my attention. Whatever offer you receive for my head, I will double in return for the head of the asker.¡±


    ¡°As you wish.¡± Only now did Will allow himself to relax a hair, reasonably certain that his neck was off the executioner¡¯s block, at least for the moment.


    He spared a glance at the lady-consort and the ill-fated healer; the latter having successfully put himself out, now twitching in a tight ball with wisps of smoke and a smell of burning rising from him. ¡°Could I make a suggestion, my lord?¡±


    Brimstone waved a stiff hand in his general direction. ¡°By all means.¡± His attention had drifted elsewhere, now studying the painted rafters high above.


    ¡°I think these two will soon die of their injuries. There is still much that might be learned from them, such as whether they had allies. Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s possible they might have been working together with Lady Winter¡¯s spies?¡±


    ¡°It hardly matters anymore. I¡¯ve decided to root the witch out regardless.¡±


    ¡°I would argue the opposite. If you¡¯re going to war against Stormfront, you will need every scrap of intelligence you can get. Interrogating these two might provide some clues of their future plans.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. But I can¡¯t stand to look into the face of my treacherous wife any longer¡ªI would rather be rid of her quickly.¡±


    ¡°I have some knowledge of these things. I could carry out the interrogations in your stead, my lord. You could put it out of your mind, and I will bring you any information I learn.¡±


    Brimstone considered a moment, then slowly nodded. ¡°All right. I¡¯ll have them brought to the dungeon, and you can ply your trade there. Just make sure you don¡¯t go too easy on them.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t. For now, though, I would like to give them medical attention so they don¡¯t die on the spot, if that would be agreeable.¡±


    The lord shrugged. ¡°I won¡¯t meddle. As you said, I have already put it from my mind.¡± Tearing his eyes from the ceiling, he gave Will a long once-over. ¡°I realize I¡¯ve been acting rudely¡ªI haven¡¯t even asked you about your night. Judging by your attire, I¡¯d say it was a productive one.¡±


    Will looked down at his coat, found it spattered with blood. He hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°Yes. Philly Upnorth is dead, as is every member of his household guard. Your people can pick up the bodies in the morning without fear.¡±


    ¡°And you did as I asked?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord. He died painfully. I spared his wife, and had her send a Message to Lady Winter to inform her that Sheerhome won¡¯t be trifled with.¡±


    ¡°Good. Very good. I like your initiative, Master One-Eye.¡±


    ¡°You honor me.¡±


    ¡°Handsome, see that our man here receives payment before he leaves. Add another twenty percent onto his usual rate to reward him for his unwavering loyalty, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, lord,¡± Handsome murmured.


    ¡°Very good. Now, the poison has left me feeling rather tired, so I think I will retire now.¡± Brimstone stood, a slight twitch in his cheek the only sign of any discomfort. ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me, Master One-Eye, if I don¡¯t ask you for an antidote. One can never be too safe, even among friends.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Will said.


    ¡°To trust is to die, after all, as you so tactfully put it.¡±


    Brimstone retreated from the main hall. Handsome looked as though he wanted to linger, but the lord told him to be about procuring Will¡¯s payment, and the Trader slunk off.


    After a Detect [Life] pulse confirmed that there was no one in the hall other than the two condemned, Will knelt beside the badly burned lady-consort.


    ¡°Please¡­¡± she forced out, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Help me¡­¡±


    ¡°I intend to,¡± Will said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, bless you¡­¡±


    ¡°I have a condition, though.¡±


    ¡°What¡­ kind of condition?¡±


    Will leaned in close, and hissed forcefully in her ear: ¡°You will tell me everything you know about your husband.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He dipped back on his heels. ¡°So that I can kill him.¡±


    Her eyes widened at that.

 Chapter 44 - Even a Rat Has Claws

    Serene


    Serene stood at the edge of the Hell-5 pit, gripping the wooden railing like the neck of a wrung chicken. Sam was on her left, cheering¡ªextremely loudly¡ªfor her new friend as Ratcatcher warmed up on the sands.


    Serene could not match her enthusiasm. This match was over before it started. Ratcatcher had said it best himself¡ªeven at his best, he¡¯d have no chance against Henke. And here he was, banged up and skill fatigued, while his opponent was in peak form, having not sustained one injury or been forced to use a single AP thus far.


    Many of the bookies were accepting bets not on who was going to win, but how many seconds Ratcatcher would survive against the undisputed low-level champion.


    If Sam took note of that particularly morbid display of Frontier opportunism, she made no show of it.


    I don¡¯t even know why I care. It wasn¡¯t as though Serene had never condemned a man to death before. More than once, she had passed along sensitive information obtained from one john or another that had led to someone getting a Sheerhome smile. She hadn¡¯t actually seen it happen, so maybe it was further removed, but it wasn¡¯t as though she needed to be here either, watching what by all accounts seemed like a decent guy be executed by public spectacle. She could have found a nice smoke lounge to while away an hour or two instead.


    But she hadn¡¯t done that.


    Something had drawn her to this spot. Something dark and inescapable. And though she wanted nothing more than to leave and drink herself stupid, her morbid fascination refused to let her look away from the fighters for a moment; to blink, even.


    Ratcatcher finished his stretches while Henke was still parading around, doing a lap along the edge of the ring and smacking the palms of the fans who extended them down past the railing for a chance to touch the champion.


    The skinny Artisan looked up, spotted Serene and Sam, and waved with an uncertain smile. The Laborer¡¯s encouraging yells rose to a fever pitch, and she threw both her fists up in the air.


    Serene forced a practiced smile of her own, and wagged her hand in a floppy wave. She tried not to imagine what he would look like with half his head missing. It was difficult.


    ¡°WELL, WELL, WELL!¡± Golden Boy cried, pirouetting in the air above the fighting area like a gold-plated disco ball as he launched into his usual spiel. ¡°THIS IS ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS, FOLKS! I¡¯M SURE MANY OF YOU ARE AS SHOCKED AS I AM THAT OUR GOOD FRIEND RATCATCHER MADE IT TO THE SECOND ROUND OF THE TOURNAMENT! AND WE LOVE IT, DON¡¯T WE FOLKS?¡± Some scattered cheering at that. ¡°AND NOW, THE UNDERDOG GOES UP AGAINST THE STIFFEST CHALLENGE OUR LOW-LEVEL DIVISION HAS TO OFFER! A MAN WHOSE NAME IS ON EVERYONE¡¯S LIPS. I¡¯M SURE HE NEEDS NO INTRODUCTION HERE. HIS EXPLOITS ARE LEGENDARY, HIS POWER IS INDISPUTABLE¡ªAND NOW, WE WILL SEE WHO COMES OUT VICTORIOUS; THE MOUSE, OR THE TIGER!!!¡±


    Floating down so his toes nearly touched the ground, Golden Boy spun to face each of the fighters in turn. ¡°ANY OPENING REMARKS FROM EITHER OF YOU GENTLEMEN?¡±


    Ratcatcher gave a queasy shake of his head, but Henke held out a hand to take the scepter from the organizer, grinning broadly. His eyes were fixed intently on his opponent. ¡°I want to make a deal, friend. Let¡¯s make this a good, clean, exciting match for the people. No pulled punches, no mercy. To the death.¡± The gem on his silver ring sparkled just as brightly as the ones on the scepter. There was a hungry glow to it.


    They didn¡¯t call it the Devil¡¯s Eye for nothing.


    Golden Boy went and stuck his gaudy stick under Ratcatcher¡¯s nose for a comment.


    The Artisan considered for several moments. Then he gave a curt nod and said: ¡°To the death.¡±


    Unsurprisingly, the crowd loved to hear that.


    * * *


    Henke


    It was funny how delusional some idiots could be. And among delusional idiots, the man in front of him was king, emperor, and patron saint.


    Ratcatcher. What a name.


    It was all so very funny.


    Golden Boy dislodged the head from his scepter with a sharp flick, letting it zip around the ring in tight circles, and he conjured the hardlight cube above them as he floated into the air.


    Henke settled into a ready stance, idly spinning the Devil¡¯s Eye on his lead hand with his thumb. He¡¯d intended to finish all the fights until the finals as quickly as possible to conserve energy, but he¡¯d drag this one out a bit. The people would enjoy it, after all. And who was he to say no to them?


    The horn blew its one triumphant note, heralding Henke¡¯s imminent victory.


    He began advancing the same moment he heard it, crossing the ring at a quick pace without rushing. The delusional idiot in Ratcatcher¡¯s last bout had somehow gotten cocky enough to be taken in by that obvious trap. Henke would not make the same mistake. He was smarter.


    The frail-looking Artisan did not move from his spot near the far end of the ring. Only when Henke was within twenty feet did he begin sedately backing up. There was something infuriatingly smug about that twitchy smile on his face. He¡¯d wipe that away soon enough.


    Henke cocked back his right fist to strike.


    ¡°Look out!¡± Ratcatcher cried out. ¡°I¡¯ve left a trap for you!¡±


    Henke hesitated only a fraction of a second, not long enough for the obvious bluff to bring him out of position. Did that idiot really expect that to work on him? Ratcatcher hadn¡¯t used any skills at all since the start of the match. He let the swing follow through, a hook aimed at the Artisan¡¯s midsection. He didn¡¯t even need to put any power behind it, since the Devil¡¯s Eye provided that in spades.


    His fist connected with the soft flesh of the man¡¯s side, and the ring fired up, casting an Amplified Spark that was Compressed on one side so the energy could only escape one way¡ªstraight into his opponent¡ªlike a gunshot.


    Except¡­Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Why hadn¡¯t his flesh evaporated? Ratcatcher lurched sideways with a stupid groan, but his body was still fully intact.


    Henke looked down at his right hand, brow furrowed, and saw something very peculiar. Fire poured from the centerpiece gem, but not all at once in a confined explosion, the way it was supposed to. Little twists of flame slid off the ring¡¯s surface like rain drops whipped sideways in a harsh storm, disappearing somewhere behind him. He made to look back¡­


    But before he got the chance to, something went boom, and suddenly his back was very hot¡ªburning hot¡ªand a shove sent him staggering forward. Staggering straight into the Artisan¡¯s waiting fist, and he went sprawling on his back, nose thumping and bubbling with blood.


    What¡­ just happened?


    ¡°Watch out! I¡¯m gonna get your arm now!¡±


    Henke did not move in time. Before he could get away, the Artisan had taken a foot and pressed Henke¡¯s upflung arm firmly down against his chest. The damage was minimal, though, and Henke easily rolled away from the next one, somersaulting to his feet. He slipped into a ready stance, and¡­


    He found that he could not quite assume the guard he had intended, on account of the fact that his lead hand was glued to his chest.


    He used Bind on me! But when¡­? He never said the words or made any hand signs...


    The pieces slipped into place. He mindcast it. I had no idea he had that kind of skill. He never showed any indication of it in the last round.


    Oh.


    That was his setup play. He was holding back the entire time against the Laborer so I wouldn¡¯t see it coming.


    Ratcatcher stayed on top of him, pressing his advantage now that Henke¡¯s lead hand was disabled. ¡°Here comes a right!¡± he called, and sure enough, a right hook followed a moment later. Henke pulled his head back a few inches, and the Artisan¡¯s fist passed harmlessly in front of his nose. With his twelve points in Dexterity, he would have dodged it easily even without the warning. Why did his opponent keep doing that? He couldn¡¯t possibly expect it to fake Henke out.


    Henke took a moment to collect himself, gather his thoughts, only halfway focused on evading Ratcatcher¡¯s clumsy assault as the Artisan continued to call out his moves. The reversal had been surprising, but his position was hardly any worse than before. The hit to his nose seemed to only have inflicted superficial damage, and the Bind trapping his hand would come undone if he kept playing for time. Even without that, he still had an ace up his sleeve.


    But that little piece of shit had drawn blood, had wasted a charge of his ring. He had put Henke on his back, made him look weak; like a fool.


    That was an unforgivable offense.


    It was only now that Henke noticed the two exhausted AP crystals on his opponent¡¯s arm. He at least knows how to mindcast Bind, which probably means he can do the same with Tidy Up. Those two seem to be his signature moves. Tidy Up is probably the one he used to sabotage my ring earlier.


    Since Tidy Up can be used on sand, why not fire, too? He mindcast Tidy Up [Fire] from his foot into the ground, probably Amped, then backed away so I¡¯d step on the active skill effect. When I tried to throw a punch, the fire generated by my ring was instantly sucked into the ground, then released to inflict the damage on myself.


    That has to be it.


    He¡¯s a clever little rat, I have to admit¡­


    Then, why insist on this play-by-play nonsense? Could there really be some strategy behind it? Or is he just cracked in the head?


    Henke¡¯s arm popped free as the Bind skill effect ended, allowing him to assume his normal stance. He smiled. It doesn¡¯t matter. He¡¯ll be dead in a few seconds anyway.


    Pivoting, Henke slipped an awkward punch from the Artisan and¡­


    ¡°Amp (Three): Illuminate.¡±


    Henke caught a brief glimpse of the rat with his face buried in the crook of his arm, the other outstretched. Then there was a flash, and all he could see was smears of white and yellow and red, and his eyes burned something fierce.


    ¡°Uppercut!¡±


    All the air drained from Henke with a breathless gasp as the fist buried itself in his midsection. He staggered back, doubling over.


    ¡°Left hook!¡±


    His skull was rung like a bell, and he pitched onto his hands and knees, furiously blinking through stinging tears to force the light out of his eyes.


    ¡°Low kick!¡±


    Hearing the direction of the voice, Henke was able to roll out of the way, working his jaw at the ache in his face as he climbed heavily to his feet. He had to admit that he would have been caught by that one if not for his opponent¡¯s kind self-sabotage. That, more than anything, spurred his fury.


    Was this rat looking down on him?


    Did he honestly think he had a chance to win?


    After a few more seconds on the defensive, Henke had regained enough of his vision to see the blurry outline of the ring and his opponent. It would have to do¡ªthis farce had gone on long enough. Backed into the corner of the ring, he slipped one, two, three punches and kicked off the wall, lead hand cocked back.


    The rat was out of AP. What could he possibly do about it?


    As Henke watched his fist creep toward his opponent¡¯s exposed side¡ªimpossibly slow, as though forcing its way through molasses, in a moment that stretched on forever¡ªhe knew that the match was over.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± he realized his opponent was saying. ¡°Here comes a valor surge!¡±


    What the fuck is a valor surge? Henke thought.


    Then everything got very bright.


    * * *


    Serene


    The more Ratcatcher resisted his defeat, the worse Serene felt. She had hoped that the match might end quickly, so that she could get all her self-loathing over with all at once and move on.


    But this was getting torturous.


    Ratcatcher was actually doing well. Better than he should have, by all rights. She counted four hits he¡¯d landed on the champion¡ªnot inconsequential ones, either, since it didn¡¯t seem like Henke had any points in Toughness. It looked like that Amped-up Illuminate had done some good damage, too.


    Over and over, Ratcatcher had proven his resourcefulness. There were fighters way out of his league who had never landed a single blow on the Hero. But Ratcatcher was slowing, compounding skill fatigue wearing on him along with his injuries from previous bouts. And with that use of Illuminate, he was now out of AP.


    Surely, he was out of tricks by now.


    ¡°Hey, Serene,¡± Sam said, taking a break from her dogged cheerleading. She had already screamed herself hoarse. ¡°What¡¯s all that weird static coming off him? What¡¯s he doing?¡±


    Static? What on earth is she¡­?


    But Sam was right. White sparks popped about the unassuming Artisan like miniature fireworks as he chased his opponent across the ring. Arcs of white lightning trailed lazily up his arms, webbed between his fingers.


    What was that? There wasn¡¯t a skill like that, was there? It didn¡¯t look like Illuminate at all.


    Backed all the way against the log wall, Henke kicked off of it with one foot, instantly reversing his momentum and coming in for a leaping punch, ring glinting on his finger.


    Clearly, he was looking to put an end to this match in one sweep.


    But at the same time, Ratcatcher cried: ¡°Watch out! Here comes a valor surge!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a¡ª¡± Sam began.


    Then, lightning lit the night.


    With a peal as of great bells ringing, Ratcatcher became the conduit for a jagged bar of pure, gold-tinged power that shot out of his outthrust arm. It cut across Serene¡¯s vision, leaving dizzying afterimages. With a thunderous crash, Henke was struck by the buzzing white beam; overwhelmed by it, overpowered by it, carried away by it. He was tossed aside like a glove in a hurricane.


    And then, in the blink of an eye, the lightning faded. Scattered arcs of static lifted a scattering of loose sand into the air, left it hovering like morning mist. Henke had been tossed roughly up against the wall of the pit, and sank down onto his ass with a look of dumbstruck confusion that summed up Serene¡¯s own feelings quite well. His clothes were badly torn, and his exposed skin was bright red all over, as though scalded with boiling water.


    Ratcatcher, meanwhile, stood tall. The viewing cube showed a close-up of his face, a big grin across it. On his sheet, five AP crystals gleamed afresh.


    It was impossible.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Sam asked.


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Serene replied numbly.


    The crowd murmured in equal shock. No one seemed to know what was happening.


    Except for one thing.


    Ratcatcher was winning.


    Had she misjudged him that badly? How could a man with this kind of power possibly have spent his whole life losing?


    Someone was making a fool of themselves by screaming at the top of their lungs, cutting through the stunned silence. It took Serene a moment before she realized it was coming out of her own mouth.


    ¡°COME ONNN!¡± she cried, knuckles white on the railing. ¡°WINNN, RATCATCHER!¡±


    Faith was a deadly thing on the Frontier. It only led to bad decisions¡ªand bad decisions led, invariably, to a premature and unpleasant death.


    But just for today, just this one time, Serene wanted to believe in something.


    ¡°PLEASE WIN!¡±


    Tears stung her eyes.

 Chapter 45 - Wanna See a Magic Trick?

    Henke


    Everything was scrambled. Hurting all over. Noise battered against him, distorted and jarring.


    It hurt so bad. He¡¯d never felt pain like this. Not even when he¡¯d died in a vehicular accident, squeezed nearly in half at the waist by a twisted mass of metal and plastic.


    What had happened to him? What was going on? The world around him played as a choppy slideshow of still frames. People were moving above. Gesturing. Chanting. Yelling. They didn¡¯t sound very happy.


    It was the rat¡¯s fault. Because of him, the fans weren¡¯t having a good time.


    He reconnected little snatches of memory as he sat slumped against something hard and secure behind him. The rat had done something. Something impossible. He was standing there now, looking so smug.


    He had cheated. That had to be it. Maybe a bystander had helped him somehow.


    As he worked his jaw, popping his eardrums right again, he could hear that many in the audience were arguing the same conclusion he had just arrived at with the organizer, yelling up at the ridiculous little man.


    ¡°VALOR SURGES ARE A PERMITTED TECHNIQUE,¡± Golden Boy announced after some deliberation. ¡°THE MATCH WILL PROCEED AS NORMAL.¡±


    What?


    There was a lot of vocal disagreement in response to the decision, but there was really nothing anyone could do to overwrite Golden Boy¡¯s final authority.


    The match would proceed.


    Fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK!


    Henke didn¡¯t even think he could stand. His legs were two clumsy, doughy masses of pain, floppy as though there were no bones left in them.


    Meanwhile, the valor surge, whatever it was, had restored all his opponent¡¯s AP. The rat started to shuffle toward Henke, the entire right sleeve of his shirt ripped away by the power he had unleashed.


    He had to move. Supporting himself against the wall behind him, Henke tried to stand. His feet slipped in the sand, and he slid back down. His shirt was dragged up in the fall, and the raw skin of his back rubbing on the rough-barked logs made him yell out.


    The rat had made him bleed. Made him hurt.


    Unacceptable.


    Unforgivable.


    I can¡¯t lose here. Not to trash like him. This is not how my story ends.


    His opponent rolled his ankle, staggered, and fell on his knees. His eyelids fluttered, and he looked almost as though he would flop on his face right then. Henke felt a surge of hope. The strange ability might have restored Ratcatcher¡¯s AP, but at least it hadn¡¯t taken away his skill fatigue.


    And the rat had used a lot of skills up to this point. It was clearly catching up to him.


    Henke tried again to stand; failed, slid back down. Damn it all. The rat was making him look like a fool in front of the fans. Even after he''d won, what would they think of him?


    The match had devolved into a farcical battle of invalids, ten feet apart but neither one having the strength to close the distance.


    Ratcatcher rallied first. After one unsuccessful attempt, he got to his feet on the second try¡ªand stayed there, despite swaying drunkenly. That triggered a fresh wave of fury from the fans, who began to throw things into the arena.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The rat lumbered on, ignoring it all. One step. Two. Three.


    Henke tried once more to stand, and failed just as badly as before. A cold wash of fear set into his bones then, made his lips tremble.


    Am I going to lose?


    The rat was only two strides away when an empty glass bottle came spinning and struck the side of his head, bounced off him with a hollow thunk. The enemy staggered off-balance, catching himself with a hand against the ground to avoid falling.


    Henke saw his chance. With a surge of adrenaline, he bared his teeth in a fighting snarl and reached for the fallen bottle, which had landed between them. He hurled it, and Ratcatcher batted it aside, already up again, but it gave Henke enough time to get one wobbly foot beneath him, then another.


    He lunged, leading with his right. Ratcatcher, despite his accumulated fatigue, was faster, and moved his hands to deflect the strike so that Henke could not bring his Devil¡¯s Eye to bear.


    But the attack was a feint. Henke¡¯s last gambit. At the last moment, he exerted his Soul Summoning passive to demanifest the ring from his right hand, then make it appear on the forefinger of his left. Reversing his stance, he swung at his opponent, who was now focused on the wrong hand.


    It connected.


    He felt that glorious, orgasmic ripple go up his arm as a dull boom sounded, and a good third of Ratcatcher¡¯s stomach was blown clear, leaving a messy, gaping hole for perforated intestines to sag out of, glistening and bloody.


    His opponent¡¯s face, with that annoyingly determined set to it, went slack with shock. He looked down at himself, fumbled at the guts spilling from him as though to stuff them back inside, then fell away. He landed limp on his back, arms thrown wide.


    ¡°Not so fucking smug now, are you?¡± Henke snarled through clenched teeth, stray spittle flecking his bottom lip. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one with tricks.¡±


    * * *


    Sam


    The cheer died in Sam¡¯s throat, watching her friend lie sprawled out with his life leaking out of him. Henke the Hero stood over him, chest heaving, clothes gone to burned tatters, face twitching with rage.


    Next to her, Serene had gone very still. She made a strange sort of croaking noise, like a frog being stepped on, and her hands fell slack off the railing she had been holding to hang limp at her sides.


    Magnified on the screen, Sam saw Catcher¡¯s hand close into a fist, then he extended his pointer finger. Toward her and Serene, she realized.


    ¡°I¡­ softened him up a bit¡­¡± he chuckled tiredly, his voice barely loud enough to be picked up by the amplifier. ¡°The rest is up to you.¡± There was a serenity over his features, pain washed away by traumatic shock. The thin little Artisan looked up at his opponent and let out a long, slow sigh. ¡°To¡­ To the death. That¡¯s what we said, r¡ª¡±


    Henke let his fist drop, half-slipping with the lunge, and Catcher¡¯s skull splattered like an overripe melon from the detonation that followed.


    Henke didn¡¯t stop.


    On his knees, holding onto a piece of Catcher¡¯s clothing to keep himself from tipping over, he hit him again, making a hollow crater of his chest cavity with broken ribs jutting. Hit him again, blowing off an arm that went sailing end over end before landing some six feet off, finger pointing at nothing now.


    Again, again, again.


    Boom, boom, boom, went the ring.


    Meat squelched, beaten to a messy pulp. Inside a minute, the body was so mangled that it was only recognizable as human because of the relatively unscathed legs, the body to which they were attached reduced to a sickening, formless heap, like the dregs one might scrape off a butcher¡¯s cutting board.


    The horn had already blown some time ago. The match was over, and the people cheered for their hero. Especially, she imagined, those who had stood to lose money if Henke happened to lose, which was most of them.


    Oh, how they cheered.


    They¡¯d gotten the slaughter they wanted to see, after all.


    A pair of men from Henke¡¯s team hurried out of the doors in his corner. When he refused to come away from Catcher¡¯s mutilated corpse, they dragged him off by force. His entire front, knees to hairline, was soaked with blood and punctuated by star-bright shards of bone clinging to the sticky wet. His face was completely dyed red except for the whites of his eyes, making him look more a demon by half than either of the ones Sam had seen.


    He couldn¡¯t stand, so the men carried him out between them on a stretcher. Even once he was gone, the crowd continued their revelry, and there was quite a bit of impromptu dancing and drinking and cavorting about the place.


    ¡°That was unfortunate,¡± Serene said in a calm, neutral tone. ¡°I should go and collect intel for your next fight.¡±


    By the time Sam broke out of her stupor to reach out, Serene had already turned from the pit and hurried off, instantly swallowed by the press of sweaty bodies.


    A hand on the railing to steady herself, Sam looked back out over the fighting ground, at the gory mess that could hardly be called a corpse anymore.


    He¡¯d deserved to win. If that bottle hadn¡¯t hit him, would the outcome have been different?


    ¡°You did so well,¡± she whispered, her voice drowned under the incredible volume of noise around her. ¡°Be proud, my friend. You died a warrior.¡±

 Chapter 46 - Its Fine. Im Fine. Everythings Fine.

    Serene


    Serene wandered away through the fairground, buffeted by shoulders of crowding passersby without taking any real notice of it.


    She didn¡¯t have any real destination in mind. She¡¯d told Sam she was going to gather intel, but that was a lie. Maybe it was air she needed, but that was not a plentiful commodity in this packed space. Wherever she turned, she was met by a sea of countless faces¡ªhard-bitten losers, jubilant winners, drug-high revelers; all equally uncaring.


    Serene¡¯s body could not muster enough survival instinct to flinch when she heard a husky, sweet voice in her ear: ¡°Hello, Catherine.¡±


    Turning, she found Nyx standing there in her scandalous bodysuit, arms folded beneath her breasts. The Sheerhome townsfolk, who normally possessed the social propriety of sea lice, made a liberal bubble of space around her, casting their eyes down, or away, or anywhere but the demoness as they passed.


    ¡°You did very well,¡± Nyx continued. ¡°The Ratcatcher boy performed far better than I ever could have expected.¡±


    ¡°I suppose he did.¡±


    And then he lost. Serene felt an irrational surge of rage in the pit of her stomach at that. She¡¯d known he would lose all along, but he¡¯d tricked her into believing he had a chance.


    Then again, it was only right that she should suffer too. She deserved far worse, besides.


    ¡°In no small part, I suspect, because of your encouragement,¡± Nyx mused. ¡°You use your feminine powers deftly, dear.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, most calamitous.¡±


    ¡°If you continue to perform so admirably, I might give you a little treat at the end of this.¡±


    ¡°I would like that, most calamitous.¡±


    Nyx clicked her tongue. ¡°For now, I have another task for you.¡±


    ¡°I was going to collect information on Sam¡¯s next opponent,¡± Serene protested weakly, though she could not bring herself to care much either way.


    ¡°Ah. You can put him out of your mind, dear. He¡¯s inconsequential.¡±


    ¡°Then what would you like me to do?¡±


    ¡°I hear that Henke¡¯s opponent for the third round has just dropped out of the tournament. Unsurprising, considering they both work under the same promoter, and he wants his strongest fighter to proceed. Henke the Hero sustained heavy damage in his fight with our dearly departed Ratcatcher, but is currently receiving treatment from the most accomplished Physician in the city.


    ¡°With his next opponent out of the picture, he will be able to spend the entire time until the finals recuperating. Most likely, he will be back in fighting shape by then.¡±


    ¡°So, then¡­¡±


    The demoness stepped closer, and the whole world seemed to be swallowed up by her yellow eyes, staring at Serene with such an intensity she could swear her skin was burning with it. ¡°You will break out those big doe eyes of yours and cozy up to someone on Henke¡¯s team. Pump them for information¡ªand whatever else you need to pump along the way¡ªthen report back. Samantha must win this tournament.¡±


    Serene looked down, fought the urge to be sick on her shoes; only semi-successfully, as she let out a queasy, acidic burp. ¡°Yes, most calamitous,¡± she said once she had recovered from her brief lapse. ¡°It will be done.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Nyx turned to leave without a word in parting.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Serene found herself crying out.


    Nyx halted, turned one burning eye on Serene. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What was that technique he used in the fight? He called it a valor surge, but I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± The demoness let out a musical chuckle. ¡°A quaint relic from a bygone time¡ªnothing more.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    Nyx turned back to face her fully. ¡°A valor surge does not come from a skill or any other ability. It¡¯s a facet of the Concord that allows a user with honorable intent and conduct to unleash a massive burst of power coaxed from their own soul. In theory, it¡¯s quite powerful, as you no-doubt gathered from seeing it employed first-hand.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ that¡¯s why Ratcatcher kept telling his enemy what he was going to do? Because it was ¡®honorable¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not inclined to believe he was quite a big enough idiot to do it by accident, so yes, I believe so.¡±


    He¡¯d planned it out, Serene thought, with a wave of admiration that only made her feel that much worse as it soured in her. Just like his first match, he¡¯d planned out the exact strategy he needed to beat the Hero.


    ¡°However,¡± Nyx continued, ¡°it¡¯s not like it was some stroke of genius. It was a wild gamble at best¡ªvalor surging is an inherently unreliable technique due to the fact that it cannot be harnessed at will¡ªit occurs at random, subject only to the unknowable whims of the Concord¡¯s infinite automated processes. It¡¯s not enough to just ¡®act¡¯ honorably during a single moment, or a single fight. A hundred different factors, or a thousand, or a million, must come together to produce a valor surge. I believe Era added them with the intention of incentivizing honorable conduct during physical conflicts. In that sense, it was an utter failure, being so rarely utilized that most mortals don¡¯t even know about it.¡± She gave a half-shrug. ¡°Although, I suppose it still presented his best chance of winning. I can¡¯t say he made the wrong choice, however distasteful I might find the practice personally.¡±


    ¡°Distasteful?¡± Serene asked.


    ¡°Yes. Aside from everything I¡¯ve just outlined, valor surging has one other fatal weakness. However much damage it produces, a valor surge is never lethal. You could hit an enemy with ten of them, and they would not die.¡± She sneered, showing sharp teeth. ¡°The perfect tool for those who get by on half-measures. Such as our dear Samantha, coincidentally.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Does that answer your question?¡±


    ¡°Yes, most calamitous.¡±


    ¡°Very well, then.¡±


    The demoness left, taking her bubble of breathing room with her, and Serene was once more buffeted by the merciless throngs of sweaty bodies, her hair slicked down by the light rain.


    * * *


    Bill


    Bill hated his job.


    He always pulled the shit details. Always. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d done to make his boss hate him, but it must have been something terrible, because Lickspittle seemed to have taken it upon himself as a holy calling to FUCK Bill in the ASS at every CUNTING opportunity.


    They¡¯d drawn lots over who had to clean up the mess over on Hell-3¡ªJuarez had looked all green in the face over it, and he¡¯d once taken a bet to lick a dead guy¡¯s eyeball without batting a, well, eye, so that meant it had to be real bad. Bill had drawn the short one. OF COURSE he had. Lickspittle must have rigged it somehow.


    But, like the good little slave he was, Bill went scurrying off without question. Armed to the teeth, too¡ªa thick pair of gloves and a leather apron to keep the juices off him, a face mask filled with fragrant pine needles to keep the stink out, a large bucket to collect parts in, a tarp¡ªalready black and stiff with old blood¡ªto roll the body into, a good shovel with a steel rim, and a rake for the fine cleaning.


    He felt like he was carrying half a fucking cleaning cupboard as he made his way through the fairground. He apologized meekly to every stupid motherfucker who bumped into him, nearly upsetting his carefully balanced things, and muttered curses as soon as they were out of earshot.


    His mood did not improve when he entered the pit through one of the tunnels and found the thing he was supposed to be cleaning.


    Fuck my life.


    In his eight years on the sanitation crew, he had never seen a mess quite like this¡ªa reddish, pinkish, bluish mass of soupy flesh, like a giant, runny turd. It¡­ It just didn¡¯t look human anymore. The head was missing completely. Wait, no, he could see an eyeball here, a scrap of an ear there, something that might have been a nose. Was that a forearm? No, it was just a long chunk of a ribcage.


    The legs were the only part of the body that was relatively intact. They jutted comedically out from the heap, feet pointing up in the air.


    Bill felt his gorge rise, and ripped off his mask a moment before he started spewing everywhere. Without the mask holding it back, the oily, blood-sweet smell got ten times worse, and he was sick again. He spat chunky saliva, retched, spat again, then stood, inspecting the small off-yellow pile he had made next to the big red one. Great. ANOTHER mess to clean up. Why not?


    With a sigh, Bill let his gear clatter to the ground and scratched at the patchy, inflamed skin under his slave collar. Best set to work before someone showed up to yell at him for not getting the pit back in presentable condition quick enough.


    It was times like this that he wished he''d picked Tidy Up at Level 4. At the time, he hadn''t seen the point in getting a skill that did pretty much the same job as a shovel. Now he could see it.


    Bill heard a thud somewhere behind him and spun with a start. There was a woman coming toward him¡ªoh fuck, she was a big-old bitch, too¡ªstriding purposefully across the pit. Where the fuck had she come from?


    ¡°Where the fuck did you come from?¡± Bill asked, echoing his own thought. He scrambled for his spade and put it between them like he knew how to use it¡ªhe didn¡¯t.


    The woman¡ªa Level 4 Laborer¡ªstopped in front of him, hands on hips, unbothered by the steel spade head hovering inches from her chest. She looked pretty young, but she was at least a foot taller than him and muscled like she''d gone a bit overboard on the Strength allocation. She was a free woman going by her lack of a collar, and a fighter going by the fact that she looked like beat shit, which meant that Bill should technically be talking to her all polite-like, but FUCK THAT.


    The woman had a severe set to her brow, like she was contemplating murder. She wasn¡¯t contemplating his murder, was she? He hadn¡¯t done anything! Not lately, anyway.


    ¡°Hello, sir,¡± the woman said, and gave a smile that immediately made her look a sight less bloodthirsty. ¡°You¡¯re here to take care of that body, right?¡±


    ¡°You see any other fucking idiots standing around with a fucking shovel in this fucking place?¡± Bill grumbled, giving a little rattle of his tool beneath her chin for emphasis.


    ¡°Do you mind if I help?¡±


    ¡°Fucking what?¡±


    ¡°Do you mind if I help you clean up the body? He was a friend of mine.¡±


    ¡°Must¡¯ve been some fucking friend,¡± Bill muttered. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t catch me touching my own mother with a ten-foot pole if I found her like this. I¡¯d leave her for the goddamn crows.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I just met him tonight.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± What a fucking PSYCHO. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re trying to get his boots, don¡¯t bother. All property of deceased fighters is collected by the sanitation crew.¡± He jabbed a thumb at himself. ¡°That means me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think a man ought to be buried in his boots?¡±


    ¡°The fuck do I care? Only grave this idiot is gonna see is an Outside midden heap. At least the funeral will probably have a big turnout¡ªattended by a congregation of the city¡¯s finest stray dogs and tweakers, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Wait, so you¡¯re not going to bury him?¡±


    Bill let his shovel drop and rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his gloved hands. ¡°Lady, I don¡¯t fucking know, and I don¡¯t fucking care. That¡¯s not my department¡ªI just get the mess to the corpse carts, and the waste disposal crew make it go away from there. They could fucking eat it for all I care.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± The woman picked up the fallen spade, and his bucket, and scraped herself a shovelful of human slop to dump inside with a horrible squelching and plopping, as of a particularly runny bout of diarrhea hitting toilet water. If the woman minded, she made no show of it. Putting spade to gore once again, she said: ¡°Then, you wouldn¡¯t really mind if I took him off your hands, right?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The body.¡±


    ¡°Oh, the mess. Do what you want with it¡ªthey don¡¯t pay me enough to care.¡± He hurried over to drag the miraculously unsullied boots off the cold legs, scrubbing away some tiny bits of blood spatter with the heel of his hand before setting them aside. ¡°Minus these, of course.¡±


    The woman glanced away from her grisly labor to size Bill up. She eyed the collar around his neck. ¡°Do they pay you at all?¡±


    ¡°Sure they do. In bread. Sometimes it¡¯s not even got weevils in it.¡± He was only halfway joking.


    ¡°Want me to take that thing off for you?¡± She motioned to her own neck.


    Bill frowned. ¡°The fuck good would that do? They¡¯d just beat me purple for it.¡±


    ¡°Not if you run away.¡±


    ¡°And get done in by some shiteating monster two miles outside the city? No fucking thank you.¡±


    The woman nodded once and returned to work.


    Bill watched her a while, leaning on his rake, and thanked his lucky stars that there were crazies like this bitch in the world, willing to clean a mess of this magnitude for free. But then he started to feel awkward just standing there, so while she scraped the last of the bloody, sandy gibbets into the bucket, he went and rolled the legs up in the tarp, folded it like a burrito. There was a specific way to do it to keep the mess from coming free. Then he raked the stray bits of bone and viscera dotted around out of the sand, and deposited them in the bucket, and then they were done.


    ¡°Here you go, sir,¡± the woman said, handing back the shovel after scrubbing blood off it with a handful of sand. She looked down at the full bucket of unspeakable slop between them. ¡°If I wanted to bury him, where would I go?¡±


    Bill had to think about it, scratching at his neck. He burst a blister. FUCK. Hurt like shit. ¡°Outside the city, I reckon,¡± he said. ¡°But you¡¯ll have to wait until the morning at least. The street curfew''s been lifted on account of the tournament, but the gates are still shut for the night, and they don¡¯t open at this hour for anyone but the lord or the guard captain, so¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s assuming you survive the night, of course.¡± Which was NOT fucking likely.


    ¡°All right,¡± the woman said. Stooping, she bundled the corpse burrito under one arm and picked up the cadaver soup bucket with the other.


    Bill frowned. ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Outside the city, like you said.¡±


    ¡°No, I said you can¡¯t fucking go outside the city, you deaf cunt.¡±


    ¡°Thanks again,¡± the woman said with a smile that was unnervingly friendly, and began trundling off with her unwieldy burdens. Over her shoulder, she called: ¡°If I win, I¡¯ll buy your freedom as thanks!¡±


    He shook his head incredulously as he watched her go. Crazy bitch. Thanks for what, exactly? She¡¯d spent the last ten minutes doing his job, hadn¡¯t she?


    I¡¯m not getting that bucket back, am I? Or the tarp¡­ FUCK.


    Lickspittle¡¯s going to have a lot of fun with that.


    Bill sighed, gathered up his tools, and left Hell-3. There¡¯d be another mess for him to clean up by now.


    There was always another mess.

 Chapter 47 - A Study in Monkeynomics

    Will


    The keep¡¯s dungeon was in reality a repurposed underground larder. Everything had been cleared from the large, open room except wall sconces with burning lanterns and four rusted cages fastened to the stone floor, placed at a fair distance from each other.


    Unfortunately, the healer expired before he could even be brought down, so he was hauled off for disposal instead. That was a shame¡ªhe would have preferred to question both of them¡ªbut he would work with what he had.


    All the cages except the one that held Lady-Consort Dawn were empty. Brimstone was not a patient man; when he decided to take prisoners, which was rarely, they tended not to last very long.


    The badly burned woman lay slumped against the bars of her cage, shivering. Will had gently wrapped her in blankets to keep her from becoming hypothermic¡ªa serious risk now that she was missing much of the thermal insulation her skin provided¡ªand plied her with potions when she was lucid enough to drink. Then she threw up, and he had to start all over again.


    He could not hear the academy bell towers chiming the hour this far below ground, but he guessed that it took at least one or two before she was finally somewhat stable, and had enough wits about her to speak more than a word or two.


    Four of Brimstone¡¯s guards had accompanied him inside the dungeons, and were clearly meant to be keeping an eye on him. They¡¯d quickly gotten bored, however, and were currently huddled around a game of cards on the floor, playing for a pile of 1G notes.


    Will knelt by the lord¡¯s wife, making sure that his back concealed her from the guards¡¯ view, and touched three fingers to her exposed forearm; a piece of hale, milk-white skin that contrasted harshly against the livid red and black and pink and blister-yellow that covered much of her.


    Her eyes flitted open. They widened in fear, and for a moment he feared she might scream, but then she seemed to recognize him, and her lids slackened again. ¡°Will,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± Will replied.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know if that¡¯s still the proper title for me.¡±


    ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°Am I dying? I feel so cold.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not dying.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± About eighty percent. ¡°Now, my lady, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that.¡±


    ¡°Dawn. I need you to focus. Do you remember what you promised me?¡±


    She groaned. The bandages he¡¯d wrapped around her head were already staining an awful red-brown. ¡°There are people,¡± she murmured. ¡°They¡¯ll hear.¡±


    ¡°Not while I¡¯m touching you like this,¡± Will explained at a whisper, pressing his fingers into her arm more firmly to reinforce his point. ¡°I¡¯m using my Light Touch passive to block any sounds from going beyond a six-foot bubble around us. They won¡¯t hear as long as you speak quietly¡ªI can¡¯t completely muffle anything louder than a whisper, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be a problem,¡± Dawn said with a tiny, exhausted laugh. ¡°I barely feel like I can speak at all.¡±


    ¡°I understand. You¡¯ll need to, though.¡±


    ¡°You want to kill my husband.¡±


    Will gave a small nod. ¡°So I need you to tell me everything you know about him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I want that.¡±


    Will frowned. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why else?¡± The skin of her lips split and glistened with blood as they parted in a bitter smile. ¡°I love him.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I shouldn¡¯t.¡± She stared at him¡ªthrough him, he realized¡ªfor a long time. Then, as soon as he began to think that she was slipping away again, she said: ¡°But I do.¡±


    It was pure insanity, but Will did not see the point in arguing with a woman who had only barely been snatched off her deathbed. ¡°Be that as it may,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m sure you can see that he needs to die.¡±


    She hesitated for a time, then blinked hard, tears wetting her eyes, and slowly nodded. ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡± Her gaze held his, pleading. ¡°I didn¡¯t try to poison him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d guessed as much.¡±


    ¡°Neither did Walther.¡±


    ¡°Then who did?¡±


    ¡°Handsome.¡± She hissed the name. Her eyes narrowed with intensity for just a moment before exhaustion took her again. ¡°It must have been.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Will asked.


    She shook her head weakly. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ have any proof. But I¡¯ve never felt at ease around him, and he wields entirely too much sway with my husband. Toward his own ends, I suspect.¡±


    ¡°Brimstone seems to trust him.¡±


    ¡°Implicitly. He¡¯s the only person my husband trusts without any reservations.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s taken a vow¡­ to never tell a lie. He keeps this fact a secret from most, but from what I¡¯ve gathered, he¡¯s gained a large boost to his Empathy score in return. This means that he can easily read the hearts of others, so my husband also uses him to weigh the motives of those around him.


    ¡°Except¡­ I think Handsome chooses his words very carefully. Talking in such a way that he¡¯s technically not lying, but not really telling the whole truth either, or telling the truth in a misleading way.¡±


    ¡°For example?¡±


    ¡°It was his testimony that turned my husband against me and Walther. But I know I didn¡¯t do anything of the sort¡ªand I think he knows that, too. He was asked if he thought I had poisoned my husband, and he didn¡¯t really answer the question. He said that I loathe and despise Brimstone, and that one can never underestimate the treachery those closest to us are capable of.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°Do I what?¡±


    ¡°Despise him.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Dawn cried out with sudden force, enough to break through the muffling effect of his Light Touch. Will gritted his teeth in soundless exasperation and glanced over his shoulder, but the men were still focused on their game.


    When he looked back, he found Dawn¡¯s face pulled together in anguish. ¡°No,¡± she said, less firmly this time. ¡°Or¡­ well, I don¡¯t know. Yes. Of course I do, a little. I know what my husband has done as well as anyone else. The people he¡¯s slaughtered. But that¡¯s not all I feel for him. I wanted to help him¡ªto show him a better way. I thought it was working. I would never have tried to kill him.


    ¡°If Handsome could view my heart well enough to see my hatred, he should have seen the rest of it, too. But he didn¡¯t mention that. Nor did he mention that I was clearly innocent.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Will shifted his crouch to ease the stiffness in his legs. ¡°And Walther? Is it possible that he acted alone? He might have seen his chance when he found out that Brimstone had agreed to let you cook for him, slipped something inside when you weren¡¯t looking.¡±


    Dawn shook her head with a tired sigh, licking at dry, bloody lips. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. He knew that Brimstone had Poison Resistance¡ªit affected the dosages of antidotes he would give my husband in cases just like this, where poison had been employed against him. I don¡¯t think for a second that Walther would be foolish enough to try something like this.¡±


    Will nodded. It did make some sense. ¡°Then, the assassination attempt might never have been intended to kill Brimstone. Maybe it was only done to implicate you¡ªyou are the only other person who really had the lord¡¯s ear, after all. If Handsome is the manipulator you say he is, he might not have liked having that kind of competition.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I believe.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s working for Lady Winter?¡±


    Dawn gave a small, tired sigh, and her gaze drifted away to peer up at the dark stone ceiling, its shadows traced with the faintest touch of flickering firelight from the lanterns. ¡°I have no idea at all. My husband has so many enemies¡ªit might be any one of them, or none at all. Handsome might just as well be acting alone, for his own benefit.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s acting alone,¡± Will said.


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°With what you¡¯ve told me about the man, I¡¯ve only just realized something about him. Most people address Brimstone as ¡®my lord¡¯. Handsome just calls him ¡®lord¡¯. Maybe it¡¯s a coincidence, an innocent eccentricity, but maybe¡­¡±


    ¡°Maybe he can¡¯t call Brimstone ¡®his¡¯ lord, because he serves another,¡± Dawn guessed.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Will felt queasy. In his head, he went through every interaction he¡¯d had with Brimstone; every lie, big and small, that he had told in front of the innocuous little advisor. Had Handsome simply not noticed? Will couldn¡¯t acquit himself quite that good of a liar. He had to know some part of Will¡¯s intent, at the very least.


    And he had told Brimstone nothing. If he had, Will was utterly certain that he would already be a charred corpse at the bottom of a midden heap.


    Which meant that Handsome, at the very least, had quite a selective sense of loyalty. It supported Dawn¡¯s theory.


    For now, though, Handsome was a lesser problem. A riddle he would have to solve as he went. Brimstone himself was the main concern.


    ¡°Whatever the case may be,¡± Will said, ¡°Handsome is a lesser problem for now. He¡¯s a riddle I¡¯ll solve as I go, but your husband is the main concern. I commend you on your kind heart, Dawn, but there is nothing left in him to be redeemed.¡±


    Dawn closed her eyes. ¡°I¡­¡± She swallowed hard, as though the words caught in her throat. ¡°Yes. I believe you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll talk?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk.¡±


    Will nodded in grim satisfaction, and moved closer as the lady-consort began to speak.


    * * *


    Number Two


    ¡°Hurry,¡± the master had told him. ¡°Go as fast as you can.¡±


    Number Two had obeyed, rushing through the forest as quick as he dared without drawing the attention of bad monsters. He nearly collapsed as he stumbled into the big open place that surrounded his home.


    He went inside the big house, slamming the door in his haste, which the master¡¯s master would have been upset about if he had been there. But he was not, so Number Two did not need to worry.


    Big Brother One soon hobbled out of the useless room of many things when he heard Number Two come in, holding one of the square paper things the master called a ¡®book¡¯ in his hand.


    ¡®What happen?¡¯ Number One signed one-handed, much concern on his face. ¡®Why you breathe so much?¡¯


    ¡®Big important mission from the master,¡¯ Number Two explained, even though he really did not have the time. ¡®Very big, he say. Very important.¡¯


    ¡®What important?¡¯


    ¡®He bet big. All-in, he say.¡¯


    ¡®You speak truth, brother?¡¯


    ¡®I speak truth!¡¯ Number Two signed insistently, boldly, to get his emotion across. ¡®Big true!¡¯


    Big Brother left very slowly and oldly to put his book thing back with the other book things, and to put away the delicate things that the master called ¡®glasses¡¯ on a small table. When he returned, Number Two was practically hopping up and down with urgency, despite his heavy limbs.


    ¡®What the master want you do?¡¯ Big Brother asked, with much too much calmness.


    ¡®He want everything,¡¯ Number Two said. ¡®All the paper monies. The master¡¯s master¡¯s monies, too.¡±


    Big Brother went stiff at that. ¡®But the master¡¯s master will be angry.¡¯


    ¡®Master say he pay it back.¡¯


    ¡®What if lose?¡¯


    ¡®He say he win for sure.¡¯


    Big Brother peeled his lips back like he tasted something sour. ¡®Human game never work like this. Sometimes lose, sometimes win. What if lose?¡¯


    Number Two shrugged. He did not know.


    Big Brother clapped a hand to his forehead, chattering softly with much fear. ¡®Master sometimes think stupid. We must protect master from stupid.¡¯


    Number Two snarled. ¡®A good boy follow orders!¡¯ His signs were angry, now; fingers flashing, hands clapping together with much loudness. ¡®Want papers, he say! Very important, he say! He say, and we obey!¡¯


    Big Brother bared his teeth and smacked Number Two on the shoulder. Number two smacked him back, and then they were rolling on the floor, hitting and kicking and snarling in each other¡¯s faces. Number Two was younger and stronger¡ªBig Brother was old and had weak muscles.


    But Big Brother was a wise ape, and he twisted himself in very strange ways that Number Two could not follow, and eventually Number Two found himself on his back, with Big Brother standing over him, his gray chest heaving.


    Then Big Brother stopped looking angry, and he stepped back, signing: ¡®Sorry.¡¯


    Number Two stood up, trying not to show how much he hurt all over, especially at his side, where Big Brother had torn out a big clump of fur. ¡®No worry,¡¯ he said, wanting to make peace again.


    ¡®You are right,¡¯ Big Brother admitted. ¡®We obey. We must.¡¯


    Number Two nodded, scratching at the bleeding bald spot. ¡®Good,¡¯ he signed one-handed.


    ¡®But I don¡¯t like what master think.¡¯


    Number Two shrugged. He didn¡¯t care. Paper monies meant nothing to him¡ªthey were useful to get tasty treats from human food makers, but an ape did not need many papers to get all the treats he could possibly eat.


    But humans were obsessed with getting more papers all the time. Why? He did not know. They only put them in big piles to not use. It was one of many strange things humans did. Number Two accepted that he would never understand these things, and so made no attempt to, but Big Brother was different. He was more human than ape, sometimes, and he thought in ways that were not ape-like.


    Big Brother¡¯s brow was furrowed with much worry, but he did not try to argue anymore. Having reached an agreement, Number Two told him again that they needed to go fast, so they split up and began taking all the paper monies out of their secret hiding places in the big house. There was the master¡¯s secret pile, hidden under the floor of his bed, which was small. Then there were the many secret piles that the master¡¯s master kept all around the house, the ones he thought the apes did not know about. But the apes had built the house, and they knew all things in it.


    The master¡¯s master¡¯s piles were pretty big, and when they were finished there was a bulging backsack of papers for him to carry. Big Brother offered to come with to the city, but they both knew he was too slow¡ªhe would stay.


    ¡®If human ask what in sack,¡¯ Big Brother signed as he followed Number Two onto the porch, ¡®what I tell you to say?¡¯


    ¡®Potato in sack,¡¯ Number Two replied one-handed, the other holding the sack slung over his shoulder. ¡®Take potato to human food maker.¡¯


    Big Brother nodded, and patted him on the back. ¡®Good boy. Now hurry, and be quiet. Let not guard man on wall see you. He will take sack and throw you in prison, and the master¡¯s master will hurt the master.¡¯


    Number Two nodded soberly. He did not know what prison was, except that it was a bad place where bad humans went so they would suffer for a long time without food or friends or sunlight. He did not want to go there.


    Number Two left into the dark forest, and the backsack on his shoulder was very heavy, even though there were only papers inside.

 Chapter 48 - A Daring Nighttime Apescapade

    Number Two


    A human, clumsy and loud, might have had trouble getting through the forest at night. But Number Two was clever and quick, and knew how to avoid attracting the attention of bad monsters. He cleared the woods, and slipped past the torchlight of sleepy guards, and crossed big fields of wheat and barley and oats.


    When he reached the wall, he looked up and saw the creeping lights of the guard humans moving on top, and waited until he saw a gap where two guard humans were moving away from each other to scale the vertical surface, then scamper across the flat top and leap down on the other side, landing on a rooftop with a crash of tiles. That drew some attention, and he overheard shouts from up on the wall as guard humans moved to check on the disturbance, but he was long gone by the time they got near.


    There were a few humans drunkenly stumbling about in the streets, but none of them paid Number Two much attention as he made his way toward the place with lots of tents where the master waited for him.


    It was highly unlikely that there would be any pocket stealers around at this time of night, but Number Two switched to wearing the backsack on his belly anyway, just to be safe. The master would be angry if he lost the paper monies, but it was the master¡¯s master he really feared. He was very fond of his monies¡ªNumber Two did not know what he would do if he found out that the master had made them disappear.


    Number Two might have had some trouble navigating the city at night, if not for the fact that he could see a distant haze of light in the sky from the place with the tents, and muffled noise coming from there. As long as he headed in that direction, he would get to his destination eventually.


    The whore houses, which would normally have closed their doors by now, instead had them thrown wide to welcome people in, catering to the many potential customers coming from the big fighting games. Number Two stopped and gawked at a woman with very large tits who was wagging them suggestively at every other human who wandered past and coaxing them to buy some of her time with a hoarse, worn-out voice.


    Humans, as a general rule, were ugly and strange and smelly, but human women? Some of them were very wonderful, and smelled like flowers. Number Two kept his distance, though¡ªthe master said it was the pretty ones you had to watch out for.


    The woman screamed when she saw Number Two, and he scampered on quickly, hugging the sack to himself.


    Looking over his shoulder to see if someone was following, it was only a glint of moonlight off steel in his peripheral that let Number Two notice the blade sweeping toward his neck from the front. He scrambled out of the way, feeling the rush of air pull at his fur as the sword whooshed just over his head.


    The man attached to the sword was shrouded half in night shadow, the other half lit orange by a hooded lantern. There was much anger and much fear in his face.


    ¡°Boys!¡± the man called over his shoulder, voice echoing down the street. ¡°We got one over here! Come quick!¡±


    It was a guard human.


    Number Two took off running, not caring what way he went. He hurried as fast as his body would go, one hand knuckling the dirty stone ground while his other clutched the backsack protectively.


    Then, when he heard no footsteps in pursuit, he eventually glanced over his shoulder. No one was coming. Stopping, he saw the same guard human all the way at the end of the street, lantern fallen at his feet, struggling with something. Then he pitched backward, and an arm went tight around his throat, and ten seconds later he was rolled to the ground, another human standing away from him.


    The human came trotting up the street, and Number Two got ready to bolt again, but something about the length of its strides and width of its shoulders made him think it was someone he knew.


    ¡°Monkey!¡± called the human, sounding female.


    Number Two slumped with relief. It was the she-bear mate of the master¡¯s master.


    She soon reached him, and they hurried on together until they were reasonably certain the guard human and his friends would not find them. Then the she-bear stopped him, and squatted in front of him in the dark. ¡°What are you doing out here, little guy?¡± Picking up a lapel of his vest, she peered closely at it. ¡°Number Two, huh?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Number Two wanted to know what she was doing here, and began signing something to that effect, but remembered that she was a dumb human who did not understand the hand language, and gave up with an exasperated grunt.


    ¡°What¡¯s in that bag?¡± the she-bear asked, pointing to the backsack.


    Number Two strained his throat and contorted his mouth unnaturally to try and form a human word. ¡°Pohhh¡­ tahhh¡­ tohhh.¡±


    ¡°Potato?¡±


    Number Two nodded.


    ¡°Cooked?¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°Did you steal them?¡±


    Number Two shook his head.


    She shrugged. ¡°All right. Can I have one?¡±


    Number Two shook his head again.


    ¡°Aw, man.¡± The she-bear stood with an annoyed grunt. ¡°Well, whatever. We should probably try and get back to the pits as soon as possible, huh?¡±


    They continued through the sparsely peopled night streets toward the glow in the sky, and Number Two was grateful that the she-bear was a stupid human who did not ask too many questions. He did not think the master would want her to know about the paper borrowing.


    * * *


    Mongrel


    ¡°I think I¡¯m developing an ulcer because of this girl,¡± Mongrel grumbled, tapping his foot against the darkened tunnel¡¯s stone floor. ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t know where she went?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, dearest,¡± Nyx replied. She was lurking again. He hated when she did that. Lingering at the edge of the wall-mounted lantern¡¯s light, her glowing eyes were about the only part of her visible through the shadow. It was downright creepy. ¡°She was present for Ratcatcher¡¯s fight against Henke the Hero¡ªafter that, none of my little friends have seen her.¡±


    ¡°Got a lot of ¡®little friends¡¯, do you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a popular girl, Matthew. Does that make you jealous?¡±


    Mongrel scoffed. ¡°Hardly. Anyone who¡¯ll take some of your attention off me is all right in my book.¡±


    ¡°Matthew, how could you say such a thing?¡± There was a mocking pout in her voice. ¡°That¡¯s very hurtful, you know.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re devastated.¡±


    The demon moved around the circle of firelight, staying just beyond its reach, and Mongrel spun with her to avoid leaving his side exposed. The hairs on his neck prickled, and he had the distinct feeling he was about to get pounced on.


    ¡°What about the other one?¡± Mongrel asked. ¡°The pretty one.¡±


    ¡°Pretty, is she? Don¡¯t you know it¡¯s bad manners to compliment one woman in front of another? Not to mention¡­ potentially hazardous for one¡¯s health.¡± He caught a flicker of sharp teeth in the dark, and instinctively put a hand on his sword hilt, despite the fact that it would do him no good even if he could get the bastard thing clear of its scabbard. Then came a bright, clipped laugh. ¡°I¡¯m joking, of course. Don¡¯t you worry about Serene¡ªshe¡¯s off on a small errand, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Mongrel cleared his suddenly dry throat. ¡°All right, then. Rather than tormenting me, isn¡¯t there something you could do to get our fighter into this damn pit? She¡¯s going to be disqualified soon if she doesn¡¯t show up.¡±


    ¡°I already have people searching the area for her. She can¡¯t have gone very far. Me running around would hardly be any more help¡ªnot to mention highly undignified.¡±


    Someone from the fighting association came along and told them that Sam had another minute to get her ass in the ring, or she was going to get pulled. Mongrel let out a small groan. So much money down the drain¡­ And he could have made it big, too, if she¡¯d gotten her ass to the finals.


    Almost as soon as he¡¯d concluded that thought, there was a great pounding of feet from the other end of the tunnel, and there was an approaching circle of light as an attendant came running alongside Sam and Number Two.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Sam said as she came trotting up, kicking off her shoes as she went. ¡°I¡¯m not late, am I?¡±


    ¡°Late?¡± Mongrel barked. ¡°You were about to make me sprout another hemorrhoid from how tight you¡¯ve had my ass clenched!¡±


    ¡°Sorry about that.¡±


    ¡°Sorry? I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°Now¡¯s not the time, dearest,¡± Nyx murmured softly in his ear, and he flinched as he felt the scalding touch of her fingers on his arm. ¡°Samantha, there isn¡¯t much time, but here¡¯s what I know about your next opponent. His name is Holden, and he¡¯s an Explorer who fights with a dog familiar.¡±


    ¡°I think I know who you¡¯re talking about,¡± Sam said as she lined herself up against the door that two attendants were already in the process of unlatching, a third patting her down to make sure she wasn''t carrying any weapons.


    ¡°Good. Most likely, his strategy will be to let his familiar lock you in place while he keeps his distance. He¡¯ll debilitate you with the skill called Web¡ªits effect is rather self-explanatory¡ªfrom afar, then allow his familiar to finish you off when you''re incapacitated.¡±


    Sam nodded. ¡°Got it.¡± For once, she almost looked serious.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have much trouble with him, as long as you stay alert. Be aggressive, take out his familiar early if you can, and the match should be yours.¡±


    ¡°Will do. Where¡¯s Cherry?¡±


    Nyx shrugged. ¡°How should I know? I believe it was you who advised me to stay away from her.¡±


    The Laborer did not look particularly convinced, a light frown creeping onto her face. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this later,¡± she said, and flung the doors wide with a kick as soon as the latch was off, stepping out onto the sand with her arms raised in the air to meet the crowd¡¯s verbal lashing.


    Once the doors were shut tight again, Mongrel glanced down at Number Two, who wore a backpack strapped to his belly. ¡®You got what I asked for?¡¯ he signed, so that the lingering attendants would not overhear.


    ¡®Got monies,¡¯ Number Two signed back. ¡®No problem.¡¯


    Mongrel nodded. ¡®Good boy.¡¯


    Number Two beamed, and Mongrel gave one of the ape¡¯s big ears a playful tug.

 Chapter 49 - Rock, Paper, Scissors, Bomb

    Sam


    The semifinals match¡ªsingular, since Henke would not need to fight one¡ªwas being hosted in the much larger Hell-1 pit where the preliminaries had been held. Sam could still spot bits of red in the sand from one unfortunate fighter or another.


    She reckoned the change in locale did not do her any favors, considering what she had caught of her opponent¡¯s game plan from the demoness. He would want to keep his distance from her, and that was a good deal easier with an arena twice the size of the usual ones.


    As they slowly approached one another from opposite sides of the pit, Sam found that Holden was a weathered-looking man with as much gray as brown in his beard, and a lined face that suggested a hard life. The dog that trotted beside him was much the same, a shaggy mutt with a wiry, rust-brown coat and a tired gait, head bowed low.


    While the Explorer himself did not appear to have sustained much damage during the prior rounds, his familiar sported several bloody wounds around his muzzle, and there were bits of blood-matted fur along his flanks. One look into the dog¡¯s weary, sad eyes, and she knew she was in trouble.


    Fuck me. How am I going to beat on a little guy who¡¯s looking at me like that?


    Golden Boy soon came hovering down to thrust his scepter in his face, at this point fully assuming that she would want to make a statement before the fight started.


    She did.


    ¡°I want to dedicate this fight to my friend, Ratcatcher,¡± she said. ¡°He fought like a champ, and he went out too soon.¡± A round of booing at that¡ªmostly because she was the one saying it, she figured. ¡°So with that being said, there¡¯s no way I¡¯m losing this fight. The spirit of peace perseveres!¡± With that, she struck a pose that showed off her painted biceps, even though she was not in a particularly bombastic mood.


    Holden appeared to be a man of few words, declining to make a comment when prompted by the organizer. Golden Boy sullenly resumed his position in the sky, having perhaps wished for a more cinematic rivalry between the two of them.


    Sam and Holden were about twenty feet apart when the horn blew. As expected, the dog came loping straight at her while the Explorer hung back, hands outstretched in an odd, too-loose stance that did not seem to be intended for striking.


    The dog closed the distance and went for her in a snapping leap. Sam threw up a guard, and its jaws clamped down around her forearm, yanking it low as the animal fell back down to the ground. Grunting at the vice grip, she got several fingers of her free hand around its lower jaw to prise open the grip, but struggled.


    She was holding back, she knew, failing to put enough force behind her efforts to get free. She knew that a familiar would recover from any damage she wrought on it, and that there was no way around hurting the thing if she wanted to win the fight, but she still found it difficult to muster any kind of fighting spirit against an animal that was only doing as it was told.


    At the edge of her vision, she caught a small bit of movement as Holden flicked his wrist. A moment later, a big tangle of sticky web wrapped itself around her free left arm, thick as rope and tacky as though it had been coated in glue. It pinned her arm down against her side, but she found with a grunt of effort that she was able to peel it back fairly easily with her superior strength, grayish wires snapping one by one as she lifted her arm up.


    Another gob of webbing came flying her way, and would have caught her in the face if she hadn¡¯t raised her arm in time. Her left arm was now unwieldy with webbing that kept sticking to itself and clumping at the elbow, but her opponent was already down 2 AP. If she could get rid of the familiar, she was confident she¡¯d be able to avoid any other shots he threw her way.


    The dog worried at her arm, snarling, and Sam renewed her grip on its jaw to pry herself free once and for all. She felt a dull thud go through her. Suddenly, there was a fist-sized ball of Web stuck to her chest. Based on how weighty the impact had felt, though, there had to be something inside it. A rock? A ball of sand? What¡ª


    Then everything was spinning. The world flipped and lurched, and she flailed awkwardly with arms and legs as she lost all concept of where she was. She ended up on her back, staring up at the white flares of too-bright limelights, and found that she was hardly able to breathe. There was a great weight on her chest, like five people were sitting on it and preventing her lungs from inflating.


    What just happened? Sam thought numbly, head still spinning.


    All the strength had gone out of her at once, and she felt like a ragdoll with half the stuffing removed, boneless and floppy. There was a lot of shouting going on, the grating screech of Golden Boy¡¯s amplified voice, but she couldn¡¯t make out any of it. Everything was a jumbled blur.


    What was she even doing again? She¡¯d been¡­ fighting, hadn¡¯t she? Yes, that was it. She had a fight to finish. But her body wouldn¡¯t listen to her anymore, and she could only get small, hissing breaths in.


    Her brain must have skipped a beat or two, because suddenly she found she was on her knees, without any idea of how she¡¯d gotten there. She tried to cough up something caught in her throat, and vomited blood instead.


    The front of her shirt was all torn to tatters, and her chest was black with soot, a handful of fresh cuts trickling red. Her ribcage looked sickeningly squished down, sort of bent in the wrong way like a wicker basket that had been stepped on. It looked like something you¡¯d see in a photo from a fatal car crash, not the chest of a living person. Was that a bone sticking out? She thumbed at the little sliver of white protruding from her front. Yup, that was a bone all right.


    I should be hurting right now, Sam thought, unable to feel much one way or another about her present situation. She wasn¡¯t hurting, though. She didn¡¯t feel much of anything at all, except a vague annoyance at not being able to breathe right. Is it a bad sign that I¡¯m not hurting?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The dog familiar lay on its side some six feet away, its body riddled with warped metal shards, one of its front legs torn clean off and thrown clear of the body. The head was badly mangled, most of the upper jaw and snout reduced to a ragged ruin of bone and flesh and fur.


    Sam reached for a metal piece sticking out of the sand in front of her, turned it over in her fingers. It was hot to the touch.


    Did that guy just¡­ throw a fucking grenade at me? She tried to laugh, but found that her chest made a series of disconcerting clicking noises when she tried to inflate her lungs more than quarter capacity, and stuffed it down.


    Her opponent, slowly coming toward her, looked pretty pleased with himself. He¡¯d just cheated, of course¡ªmassively and blatantly¡ªbut the crowd was cheering for him, and that was all that mattered. Sam wasn¡¯t going to get any help from the referee end of things, which meant that she still had a fight to win.


    Only, she had no idea how she was going to accomplish that, with an upper torso that bore more than a little resemblance to a moon crater. She could hardly breathe, let alone stand, and she felt like someone had taken her brain and shaken it up like a snowglobe, sending all the thoughts inside rattling around uncontrollably so she couldn¡¯t hold onto a single one for more than a second or two.


    Fuck¡­ She knew she needed to get up and fight, but all she wanted to do was lie down and shut her eyes.


    Then a golden figure shot down between her and her opponent, poised on his tiptoes with the grace of a dancer despite his comically round form. ¡°LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THIS FIGHT IS OVER!¡± Golden Boy cried, catching the recording sphere out of the air to speak directly into it. ¡°HOLDEN HAS MADE USE OF AN ILLEGAL ITEM BY MEANS OF SMUGGLING IT IN THROUGH HIS INVENTORY, AND IS HEREBY DISQUALIFIED FROM THE COMPETITION! THE WINNER IS SAM DARLING, THE PEACEFUL FIST!¡±


    Sam was as shocked as everybody else to hear that information. Holden in particular looked completely flabbergasted, stopping in his tracks with his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides, jaw slack with shock. He¡¯d fully expected his cheating to slide under the radar.


    The angry shouting from the crowd got louder and louder. They were not happy at all.


    Sam slid sideways. The last thing she felt as she began to drift from her body was several pairs of strong, leathery hands grabbing onto her to lift her up, and coarse fur rubbing on her bare skin.


    * * *


    Mongrel


    ¡°Oh god, why have you got to fuck me in the ass every time something good comes my way? Haven¡¯t I done enough to deserve just a tiny bit of happiness?¡±


    His fighter lay sprawled on the tarp inside the care tent, unresponsive. The girl, who¡¯d looked so solid and sure minutes before, now looked like a particularly well-trod piece of roadkill. Since the working girl was still nowhere in evidence, Nyx had assumed the job of checking Sam over, letting her gray fingers trail just above the young woman¡¯s ruined torso without actually touching her.


    ¡°At least the match was ruled in her favor,¡± the demoness murmured without looking away from her charge.


    ¡°Fat lot of good that¡¯ll do me!¡± Mongrel paced back and forth across the tent, arms folded behind his head. ¡°At this rate, we¡¯ll be dragging a carcass in to fight in the finals.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re exaggerating. Samantha still has some fight in her, and the organization has agreed to push the final fight back one additional hour to give both fighters time to recuperate.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but¡ª¡±


    Mongrel turned as the tent flaps came open behind him, and perked up as he saw that it was a woman in a white coat, with the coiled-serpent mark of a Physician.


    ¡°The SPFL would like to extend its sincere apologies to your fighter and her team for her opponent¡¯s conduct in the last match,¡± she said, hands folded before her. ¡°I am here to assist with her recovery in any way I can. If you would give me access to the fighter, I can begin immediately.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, excellent!¡± Mongrel said, shaking the woman¡¯s hand. ¡°Please work your magic. Do you think she will be fit to fight in the finals?¡±


    ¡°I will do my best.¡±


    ¡°You will do no such thing!¡± Nyx hissed, and was on her feet in a moment. She was not a particularly tall woman¡ªor being, anyway¡ªbut she seemed to loom over the Physician then as she glided gracefully over. ¡°Leave immediately.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Mongrel spluttered. ¡°But we¡ª¡±


    Nyx silenced him by holding up a clawed finger over his mouth. ¡°Not now, dearest. Let me handle this.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    The smoldering look she gave him could have melted steel. ¡°How would you like to end this night, Matthew? As a rich man, or a pauper?¡±


    ¡°Oh, so I¡¯m allowed to talk now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was not a rhetorical question.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to end the night as a rich man, obviously.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then you will do as I say, when I say it. And right now, I¡¯m telling you to be quiet and do nothing at all.¡±


    Mongrel crossed his arms and jutted out his chin. Fine. I can dish out the silent treatment with the best of ¡®em. Let¡¯s see how she feels after five minutes without my biting wit, the needy sow.


    The Physician was summarily hounded out of the tent, and Mongrel refused to ask a single question about it when Nyx came back inside. If she wanted to be in charge of things that badly, let her. He wasn¡¯t the least bit interested in knowing how she planned to miraculously resurrect their half-dead fighter, especially without a Physician to actually work said miracle.


    The demoness resumed her place at Sam¡¯s side, hovering her delicate hands above the young woman¡¯s broad frame, as though she could glean some prescient knowledge from those airy gestures alone.


    ¡°I¡­ apologize,¡± she said after some time, looking pointedly ahead. ¡°That was undignified of me.¡±


    Mongrel blinked as he stared into the demon¡¯s tapered back, her sharp shoulder blades working with the movements of her arms. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ sorry?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Matthew. I am sorry. Did you hear me that time, or would you like me to say it again?¡±


    ¡°Actually, my hearing¡¯s a little rusty. Once more?¡±


    ¡°I am sorry, Matthew. I shouldn¡¯t have undermined you in front of that woman.¡±


    Mongrel scratched at a persistent itch in his left ass cheek, unable to make heads or tails of what he was hearing. Was that a demon¡­ apologizing? He¡¯d never heard of such a thing. Demons were prideful to a fault, after all. That was their whole thing, aside from being generally vile, spiteful beings.


    What was her game? Why was she saying this?


    ¡°Well, I¡­ I reckon I forgive you,¡± Mongrel said, deciding to be the bigger man. ¡°Just don¡¯t do it again, y¡¯hear?¡±


    ¡°I will try.¡± Mongrel thought he could detect a smile in her voice. ¡°You do make it difficult sometimes, dearest.¡±


    ¡°How are you going to get Sam back on her feet?¡± Maybe he did want to know a little. He had to know if it was worth making his all-in bet for the finals, or if it was better to lug that money home with him in defeat, replace Will¡¯s savings before he noticed.


    ¡°Any Physician sent by the league cannot be trusted,¡± Nyx replied calmly, not really answering his question. ¡°I have no doubt that Golden Boy awarded Sam that victory by disqualification because he knew the audience would hate it. Sam has played her role as the people¡¯s villain well, and now Golden Boy is leaning into it, setting up for her to lose spectacularly against Henke the Hero. Needless to say, pulling out is not an option at this point¡ªthe League would never allow it.¡±


    ¡°No doubt, a Physician sent by them would see her just well enough to get into the ring, but not to put up any more than token resistance against the favored champion.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve pulled some strings, and an unaffiliated Physician we can trust will come along shortly to tend Samantha¡¯s injuries.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°I believe the phrase you¡¯re looking for is ¡®thank you¡¯.¡±


    Mongrel cleared his throat. ¡°Yes. Ahem. Thank¡­ you.¡±


    Nyx looked back over her shoulder and flashed him a devilish grin, pale cheeks dimpling. ¡°Why, you¡¯re so very welcome, dearest.¡±


    Damn her, Mongrel thought, shaking his leg to unstick a burgeoning erection from the inside of his thigh. Why do the crazy ones always have to be so damn hot? When did god make up that rule?