The Last Experience Point

Chapter 129: Hatred

Given the extent of her wrongdoing and lingering shame from the last time she’d willfully broken a promise to the boy, Fylwen had very much wished to avoid breaking another. Yet despite promising Zach that she’d reopen the island by now, she simply had not been able to focus on such an inconsequential task: not when the humans had unleashed a weapon of mass destruction, ending what could very well turn out to be more than a million lives and threatening hundreds of millions more. Indeed, the recent act of mass killing had completely shifted her priorities. Yet, unlike her earlier broken promise, this time around, she felt no guilt and no hesitance. Without question, she knew she was doing the right thing; she also knew the young man would survive the injustice of having to wait a few more days to play on the island. Even still, he would not be happy to hear this news, which she had decided to deliver in person. She was long overdue for a visit to Elendroth, and thankfully, she’d found the time to arrive a day earlier than expected.

“That was so fun,” Peter said, smiling up at her. “Can I take all this off now, please?”

For a human, the boy was unexpectedly adorable. Really, she had taken such a liking to him these past two weeks, rarely letting him leave her sight. At the moment, he was bundled up in multiple jackets and four hats, and he glanced pleadingly up at her through his tiny blue eyes. Though Fylwen was aware she’d gone somewhat overboard, she simply could not risk the child getting frostbite. That was why one of the pairs of gloves he wore contained a fair bit of constitution and resistance to cold.

“Very well, child.”

She had worried he would be traumatized by the plunge down into the gas giant, but he had been crying out joyfully the entire way down while Fylwen held him close to her chest. He reminded her of his father when he was young. Oh, how Peter had loved the thrill of adventure. It was only in his late adolescence, as his own father forced him to focus more on politics, that he abandoned his prior nature and took to becoming such a joyless, rigid soul. Yet he could not have changed completely, for both he—and somehow, his child—each had the buff that humans required to venture into the dungeons. When and how it had been granted to the boy, Fylwen did not know, but clearly, his father had prepared him in the event of his unexpected demise.

“Lift your arms, child,” she told him.

Helping him out of his little jackets, Fylwen unzipped the backpack she’d bought him and stuffed them inside. Then she bid her respects the head librarian, who stood up from his reception desk, stepped before it, and then dropped down to one knee for a respectful bow. Fylwen had always appreciated the head librarians, as no matter where in the world one ventured, the grand libraries abided by the customs of old, and of those customs, respect to the Elvish throne remained a core part of their values. It was good to see that this continued to be true even following the thousand-year period during which the Elves were thought to have gone extinct.

“My Queen,” the human said. “I’m honored you’ve chosen to visit Shores of Wrath.”

“Thank you,” she said to the man, bidding him to rise.

“I take it you’re here to visit your daughter and her boyfriend?”

“Indeed.”

“They were just here only a short while ago,” he said. “In fact, you’ve only just missed them.”

Fylwen raised her left eyebrow. “Oh? Well, that would explain why the glass was broken and the dungeon floor was so cold. I suppose it’ll be a week or so before that resets, yes?”

“I believe so, Your Highness. If you’d like a warm beverage, you need only ask.”

“Not today, human, but thank you.”

Fylwen was still catching up on the nature of dungeons. The Elves of old had known almost all of them inside and out, and they were often the first adventurers to find and explore most of those that were known to exist. Now that Fylwen had finally taken to utilizing them for travel, she realized that it was unfair that the humans held such a monopoly on the creations of her Godly ancestors. She would begin encouraging her people to explore the dungeons alongside them. Elves, too, should have a place in the dungeons. The same was true for the other races as well. The Great Ones had created the dungeons for all to explore, yet to the best of her understanding, there was nary a Dwarf, Gnome, or any but human that made use of such ancient wonders.

Based on what she’d learned in Archian Prime, the Great Ones, for reasons lost to time, had placed the vast majority of currently discovered Galterran dungeon portals in North and South Bastia, but in particular, the north. The reason for this was likely not due to any sort of favoritism, as Fylwen had now seen enough evidence to conclude that the Elvish Great Ones never intended the world to be divided into racial categories. Had she to take a guess, Fylwen imagined it must have made a great deal more sense back when all the spawn points existed. Perhaps the layout of Galterra, when viewed from the lens of someone before the destruction of the spawns, would find that it fit well into some overall structure—one that was no longer relevant to these times.

Regardless, when peace made its return, she would set her sights on allowing members of non-human races to have access to the dungeons. It simply was not right for the humans to exclude them as they had done until this point.

“Come, Peter,” she said to the boy, extending her hand. He took it. “You’ve been wanting to meet my daughter. Now is your chance.”

His entire face lit up. “Yay!” he cheered. Then, in an equally happy tone, he asked, “Is daddy here, too?”

Fylwen winced, and she was glad he did not see it. She had still not had the heart to tell the boy of his father’s death. She’d even worked extra hard to keep him from witnessing the extensive coverage of the man’s demise on the news media. Certainly, she planned to eventually take him to the plot in Whispery Woods where she’d buried him so that he could pay his respects. But that would happen only when she felt the time was right. Perhaps, she would tell him in the coming days. She did not look forward to it. His heart was going to be so terribly broken.

I cannot hide the truth from the child for much longer, she thought. At some point, it will turn from a mercy into a cruelty.

With the little one’s hand in her own, she led him towards the exit of the head librarian’s office. Yet before she made it half way, the doors burst open all on their own as a man darted inside. “Head Librarian!” cried this young man, who wore a thin vest and a pair of blue jeans.

“What is it, boy? Can’t you see I have important company?”

The young man shifted his eyes towards Fylwen, and then he gasped, bowed, and apologized all at the same time. Upon his apology, he said, “Your Highness.” She waved at him to be at ease, and he relaxed, though only slightly. Returning his attention to the head librarian, he said, “There’s a massive commotion taking place in the city, and people are starting to flood into the grand library looking for safety and shelter until this disturbance has passed. May I have your permission to serve them cold beverages from the café free of charge?”

“What’s all this now?” the head librarian asked, sounding more annoyed than surprised. “You said there is a disturbance? What kind of disturbance?”

“Sir Zachys Calador of the Royal Roses and the Elvish Princess,” he began, immediately drawing Fylwen’s attention. He squirmed a bit under her gaze, yet he continued. “They’ve come under attack by two masked assailants and are currently battling in the dining area of the park between Golden Street and Meteor Way—along with two unknown human bystanders. It’s caused quite the stir.”

Fylwen narrowed her eyes, and she felt her ears twitch. “Where, exactly, is this park?” she asked. When his reply took longer than a half a second, she resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff of his neck and pull him towards her so that she could shake the answer out of him. “Tell me. Now!”

*****

Anger was like an iceberg. This was something Jascaila had told Zach over and over these past two weeks. Each day, she would remind him that, when anger arose, it was often the case that what was visible was only the raw emotion of anger, and that there was more buried beneath the surface—unseen, but very much real. She’d said that melting the anger on top could only come as a result of understanding and dealing with the emotions buried below. This was something Zach had come to accept as truth. And you know what? If he had been sitting in a session with Jascaila right here in this very moment, he would be able to calmly unpack the source of his rage and maybe even talk it out of his system.

But he wasn’t in a session right now, was he? No. No, he wasn’t. So all that bullshit could fuck right off, because right now, he was so piping mad that it took every last bit of effort to prevent himself from becoming reckless and getting himself and others killed. And honestly, how could he not be angry? He’d been having a nice early afternoon before all this. He’d made two new friends, they’d been having ice cream together, and through it all, Zach had become so relaxed he’d even started to doze off—only to have some kind of disc-shaped bomb launched at him.

Now, it was only due to how serious an enemy he faced that Zach was able to stop himself from flying off the handle. This guy…he was good. Very good. And it had only taken one exchange for Zach to realize this. Thanks to everything in his life that’d led up to this moment, he’d sort of developed the ability to get a fairly accurate sense of how dangerous a foe he was squaring up against. And this man—at least Zach assumed it was a man—who was standing before him in a pair of brown robes with a plain, thin mask covering all but his eyes—he was very, very powerful.

Wielding an unusually long and strangely curved sword, he struck out at Zach in a way that was almost dismissive; still, Zach gave it his all as he traded a number of blows with him. Yet even as he guarded against such effortless strikes, the difference between them could be felt so strongly, and it was a chasm that caused him to grunt with exertion. Zach had not felt this outmatched since he’d fled Archian Prime with Olivir, Rian, Lienne, and Kolona.

Even despite his high stats, which were inflated massively beyond what was normal of a level-23 adventurer, Zach estimated that the robed man’s own stats were somewhere on par—or maybe even higher—than what Zach’s had been back when he’d entered Phase Level 3 during his fight with Ziragoth. Then, he’d had over 200 strength, and his dex, con, and speed had been close to the 200 mark as well. And while he could not possibly guess specific numbers with any measure of precision, he was reasonably certain that the stats of this nameless attacker before him were pretty close to 200 as well. Assuming Zach was correct, this meant it was going to be very difficult for him to win with own stats, which were not quite high enough while in Phase Level 0.

Name

Zachys Calador

Level

23

EXP

82/265,000

Armor Bonus

83

Strength

126

Dexterity

119

Constitution

107

Intelligence

162

Speed

92

Luck

110

Although the difference in strength was noticeable and could be keenly felt with each exchange, it was the difference between his and his opponent’s speed that really made things challenging. Sure, Zach could match it if he himself was in Phase Level 3. Unfortunately, that was something that he simply could not do. His death would be a certainty. It would probably be a good long time before the perfect combination of circumstances arose such that it enabled him to push himself that far and live through it. A shame, too, because this was someone of a much, much higher level than Zach, and he could really use the boost right about now.

I feel like he’s toying with me. Who the hell is this guy? What does he want with Jimmy?

Making matters even worse, it wasn’t just the man’s stats or his level that posed such a threat, either. The masked figure was very skilled with his sword, too, and in a way that made Zach strongly doubt he was a member of a political guild. This, he could tell with each movement that the man made, such as right now, as he stepped forward, and with a speed that sent alarm bells blaring in Zach’s brain, he tore his blade horizontally across while his arms were raised at the level of his shoulders, forcing Zach to squat down to his knees then lunge backwards to gain some distance.

The man pressed onwards and whipped his long blade twice more from left to right, then right to left, each time with enough force to cause a hissing sound to form in the air. Zach, refusing to back down, swung his own blade twice, and more sparks flew as he clashed steel both times, sending a great deal of shock into his wrists and almost knocking his Sword of Light Amidst Darkness out of his hands.

“I’m not supposed to kill you,” the robed figure said, his deep, gravelly voice confirming him as male. “Don’t push me.”

“Who are you?” Zach asked him. “What do you want?”

Even as Zach spoke to the man, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. While keeping his head straight, he quickly flicked his eyes in both directions. To his right were all the burned-up, still-smoking tables, including the one where he and the others had been seated only a short while ago. A small hole could now be seen in the concrete where that first disc-shaped bomb had come down, and another crack in the ground was newly formed at the opposite end of the park where Zach had used Phase Rescue on Jimmy and Tena.

To his left, and about a block and a half away from the park, he could see Kalana jumping from the dome of a three-story building to the rounded dome of another as she pursued the second masked assailant. Her target fired one of the spinning red discs at her, which touched down right beside her feet. Kalana, as if noticing it, quickly leapt down from the dome she was standing on, landing afterwards on top a connecting archway just as the dome exploded and sent it—along with a chunk of the building—crashing down onto the front lawn of a fancy home.

We’re doing too much damage to Shores of Wrath, Zach thought. We can’t let this continue.

To Zach’s surprise—and also annoyance—a giant crowd had begun forming somewhere that, while not exactly close, was still nowhere near far enough away. Located basically on the outermost edges of the park, those who had chosen—stupidly—not to flee were now chanting his name and raising their fists in the air, cheering him on.

“Get him, Sir Calador!” one of them cried.

“Kill that Gentleman bastard!” roared another.

The fact that they thought this guy was a member of the Guild of Gentlemen made a lot of sense given that Shores of Wrath was a territory controlled by the People of Virtue, and the People of Virtue had not yet finalized its surrender, as Abram Gespon appeared to be stalling for time. This, technically, left them in an official state of war. And the general public was so enraged, humiliated, frightened, and bitter towards the Guild of Gentlemen that support for continued war was now close to a hundred percent in the territories not controlled by them. Last night, the media had shown rioting in the streets of Varda’s lair from citizens who were demanding the guilds return to war, something Zach doubted had ever before taken place in modern history. Usually, it was the other way around.

Nevertheless, they were all wrong. This clearly wasn’t a political guild member. Of that much, Zach was certain. Yet, knowing who this mysterious attacker wasn't did little to help him discern who he was.

“Who are you?” he asked again. “What do you want?”

“Doesn’t concern you,” the man replied curtly. “Step aside.”

“Who’re you here for?” Zach asked him.

“I think you know. If you're smart, you'll move.”

Jimmy.

Maneuvering himself so that he blocked the man’s path forward, he raised his weapon defensively and said, “You can’t have him. Sorry.”

“What’s he to you, kid? Why don't you just mind your own fuckin’ business? Either get out of my way, or there’ll be consequences.”

“I’ll show you consequences!"

Zach charged forward while raising his arms high, and then he slammed his sword down on top of the masked man, who was already side stepping away while retaliating with an attack of his own. Zach had to utilize every ounce of his speed to lift his own blade and raise it in time to guard, but even then, the force of impact pushed him backwards.

The masked, robed man pressed him, releasing a dizzying array of mid-to-high strikes. Zach had to plant his feet, bend his knees, and swing his sword so hard it made him grunt each time—all that just to barely guard against the onslaught of attacks. To prevent losing his grip on his weapon, he wrapped his fingers in both hands so tightly around the hilt that his knuckles were turning white. “Ngh,” he grunted as their blades clashed. “Ugh.”

Dashing backwards, he swung his blade down twice diagonally and shouted, “Phase Slash! Phase Slash!”

Two high-pitched sounds similar to a zipper being undone filled the world back-to-back as his blade created dual high-speed ripples in the air before him, both of which soared directly at the robed man, who calmly—and deftly—swung his long, curved sword at both. His weapon moving blazingly fast in front of him, he managed to absorb the force of each, essentially cutting them out of existence and leaving him unharmed.

Zach peeled his lips back in frustration. That wasn’t good. The sword-wielding, masked man had just neutralized his strongest ability in way that actually seemed casual. And it’d cost him over two minutes of time, too: time that was draining fast. Despite having only just entered Unleashed Phase, Zach was already down to 11:20 from his various use of abilities, and he’d gotten nowhere. Worse, he couldn’t even try anything else, because his other offensive abilities were too dangerous to use here. Put simply, he couldn’t risk using Wave Slash or Phase Cannon on the guy without taking the very real chance that he missed and killed one or more innocent bystanders. And the same was definitely true—probably even more so—of his blasting ring, which really sucked because, given his enemy’s strength, his blasting ring was the one ability that was likely capable of taking him down if timed properly.

“Get out of my way or die,” he warned Zach yet again as he dashed forward at him.

Crossing the distance to Zach, he then tore his blade downwards at him, and Zach swung his own sword upwards to counter. Now, he came perilously close to losing his weapon as the two blades collided. The man struck hard: very hard. It was as if to send a warning to Zach that he was even more powerful than he’d let on. Zach’s elbows and wrists flared in agony from the blow, and then he widened his eyes as he saw the man shift his position so that he could whirl himself around full circle and bring around his blade for a spinning strike.

I can’t block this!

Zach, acting off instinct, activated Phase Shield, and a moment before impact, a large, golden shield burst into existence in front of him, one that was so brilliant and bright it managed to outdo even the early-afternoon sunshine. The man’s curved sword struck and bounced right off it, and then he remained where he was, offering no-such follow up attacks during the 1.2 seconds it remained in existence.

“Phase Shield,” the man remarked. His eyes visible at the top of his mask, he stared directly into Zach’s. “Remains in effect for 1.2 seconds, but then it has a 45-second cooldown…right?”

Zach gasped, his nose began to bleed, a pain traveled down his back, and his mind erupted in confusion as the man spoke. “How do you know that?”

“I know all your abilities, kid. Even those you’ve yet to awaken.”

“Know all my…” He gasped a second time. “You’re from the OMP, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Zach said, nodding. “You are.” It all made sense now. Of course this guy was from the OMP. Jimmy had even indicated during their “interrogation” of him that he feared someone was after him. That Eilea had told him as much. And if it had something to do with Eilea, who else could it even be? And so now, realizing this, a heat entered into Zach’s voice as he extended his arm and pointed his blade at the man. “We have a truce, Gods-damn it! You’re supposed to leave me alone for now.”

“You’re the one who won’t leave me alone,” the man replied. “I told you. I’m not here for you.”

“Jimmy’s off limits too,” Zach said defiantly.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

He dashed forward again, and Zach was completely unprepared. His arms and wrists were still recovering from the shock of the last attack that he’d blocked. He needed to buy himself some time. And so, thinking fast, he activated Frostbind, the ability on his Robes of Dark Awakening. Immediately upon activation, the concrete beneath the man’s feet erupted, and shackles made of pure ice made a crackling sound as they wrapped around and bound his feet, bringing him to a complete and total halt.

Calmly and slowly, he lowered his eyes—the only part of his face that was visible—downwards and to the left. “Tch,” he muttered. Not a half second after halting him, the man made a jerking motion with his body, and then with a low snap, he broke free, shattering the shackles binding his feet and causing the ice to immediately fade into shallow puddles of water. Then he turned his head to Zach and continued heading towards him.

Zach, caught off guard a second time, activated Phase Blink, putting himself out of harm’s way just as the robed, masked man crashed his sword down on top of where he’d been standing, blasting apart a chunk of concrete with a high-pitched “thunk” that Zach heard only as he reappeared a moment later on the opposite end of the park. Then came the sonic boom, which caused hundreds of fearful, surprised yelps from those stupid enough to be watching this fight take place.

Knowing how fast this guy could move, and filling with a sense of alarm, Zach, who now had his back turned to him, spun around and instinctively raised his sword to guard, knowing full well that the man would likely have crossed the distance between them in just the time it took him to about-face. And so, preemptively, he swung his sword while bending his knees—a defensive maneuver he hoped he would be able to pull off just in time to prevent himself from being cut into two pieces. Yet he filled with confusion upon realizing he’d hit nothing at all, and that there was no one before him. So then where was he?

Zach, puzzled, searched his immediate area for any sign of the assailant. There was none. He even looked up just to make sure he wasn’t about to come crashing down on him. But there was nothing there either. This meant that, unless he was coming from below somehow, the man was not pursuing him. But why?

Jimmy!

Looking beyond the opposite end of the park, there was a one-way street which was lined with merchants on both sides, and the masked assassin was hurrying down it. He was now far enough away that he was a mere instant from fading out of Zach’s view. Filling with panic, Zach activated Phase Blink twice, each one back-to-back. The first one took him to the other end of the park, and the second brought him to within inches of the robed man, who stopped immediately, raised his blade, spun around, and unleashed it upon Zach, who had only first arrived.

Zach, channeling every bit of strength he had, swung his own sword to meet it, and yet again, they collided. But now, as if annoyed, the robed man attacked a second and third time, and these next two contained even more strength and even some fury as he lashed out with his curved blade.

Driven by a fear of something happening to his new friends, Zach found within himself the strength to stand his ground. He cried aloud with the exertion of fighting back as he somehow managed swing his sword and meet his enemy’s twice more, causing two nearby women who were browsing bracelets at a jewelry merchant to shriek in fear, both at the sudden appearance of sparks and the dual, subsequent sonic booms that exploded behind Zach from his use of Phase Blink.

“I’ve had enough of this,” the OMP assassin said. He raised his weapon high and Zach had the sense things were about to get really, really bad for him.

And he was right.

With a ping, he caught the man’s blade with his own, and now they clashed, Zach pushing his steel against the man’s, and the man pressing down on Zach’s with enough weight that the swords felt as though they were glued together. Zach was being badly overpowered—and he was well aware of it, too. He knew he did not have the strength to survive the clash.

Thinking quickly, he decided to finally try out the one ability he’d never before had the chance to use. And so, even as his enemy’s blade was bearing down on him, Zach activated Shadow Merge while disengaging from the clash and leaping away. As he maneuvered backwards, he saw a misty, grey-colored smoke surrounding his body, and then he watched as his own limbs vanished from his view. The impossibly black smoke vanished as well as though consumed by this grey. But then the grey smoke also disappeared, and every part of him faded into nothingness in a way that was so surreal it was actually somewhat unnerving, creating a weird disconnect between mind and body. Even his sword could no longer be seen—not even by himself. From the way the robed, masked man’s eyes narrowed, Zach could tell that he too could no longer see Zach, either.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled.

He began slicing randomly with his sword as though aiming at nothing. The result was that he cut an entire booth in half, then sliced open an entire keg of beer, spilling it out onto the street; he also nearly severed the head off a camel being ridden by a merchant. Both the animal and its rider turned around and hastily made their way in the opposite direction.

Zach, amazed, realized that he was truly invisible. He knew that the ability would only last for 30 seconds, and that it would end prematurely if he took any hostile action at all. And this OMP assassin must have known that as well, which was why he was furiously—and indiscriminately—swinging his weapon around with reckless abandon as if to ward Zach away from trying anything.

Yet this was where he made his first mistake. Because now that Zach could stand there silently and watch him, he finally had the chance to make use of his disposition towards predicting enemy movement. Against someone as strong as this guy, it was somewhat diminished when directly under fire. But while hanging back and observing his target and under no direct threat? Totally different story. Zach was able to study the robed figure’s motions very, very carefully.

He watched as the man grunted and put his sword through another merchant booth, cutting it in half and causing paintbrushes and ink to spill all over the homely, granite, and square-tiled street. The nearly hundred people who’d been nearby had all fled the moment the battle had been dragged here; thus, Zach was in no rush. He could really take his time and study each movement: each swing of the sword. The man struck down, then up, then spun his body around and stabbed behind him. Then he bent his knees—and that was when Zach saw his opportunity.

Now!

Zach dashed forward, pulled back his arms, and then twisted his hips and ripped his blade across the man’s midsection, reappearing the moment his sword connected. He felt the impact—he felt his steel cut into something. Yet to his horror and disappointment, all he managed to do was slice apart the man’s robe before having his sword come to a halt against what looked like black-colored plate armor beneath it.

“Nice try, you little shit,” he said, his voice low yet full of commanding rage. “Now you’re gonna—”

He stopped speaking, and Zach was tempted to look away as about fifty star-shaped emblems of light popped into existence all around him, surrounding the man like a net. “Fuck,” Zach whispered. “I’m so sorry. Didn’t want to kill you. I really didn’t.”

The man swore. “Your weapon’s proc?” he asked, even as all fifty began to converge upon him, covering him completely. He stabbed his weapon into the ground and left it there, releasing his grip on it, and he muttered something that sounded like an incantation. Yet whatever spell or ability he was trying to cast, he was too slow. The emblems exploded, and Zach braced himself for the inevitable shower of blood, guts, and trauma that Jascaila would have to help him get through. He even raised his arms to protect his face from the splatter.

Yet, for some reason, there was no splatter. Instead, there was a loud, pained grunt as the man’s entire robe and mask were shredded to pieces, revealing a figure clad in midnight-black plate armor, which became cracked and crushed in several areas. So too did his sword: it simply shattered, suffering a full item break, resulting in it vanishing even before the pieces hit the ground. There was also a trickle of blood from the man’s lips as he glared at Zach. But aside from that, he was unharmed.

Now, what stood before Zach was an unmasked man who looked to be in his early thirties, although Jascaila warned him that could be deceiving. He had spiky black hair, scars running down the sides of his face, and a crooked chin. He reminded Zach a lot of the gang members who lived near the southern side of Whispery Woods city. Angrily, the spiky-headed assassin lifted his hands so that they were held parallel to one another. Then there was a swish, and before Zach’s eyes, two silver blades about four inches apiece unsheathed from the gauntlets on his wrists.

“I’ve had enough of you. Really, I have.”

Following those words, he launched himself at Zach, and then he made swinging motions first with his left hand, and then with his right. Zach flicked his wrists and swung his blade twice, making two loud clinks as he deflected the blade on each gauntlet with his own. But then the man spun his body completely around, raised his foot, and kicked Zach in the chest with such force that Zach coughed loudly as he was blasted away.

Zach cried out in alarm as, with a loud crash, he was sent cleanly through the wall of the two-floor apartment behind him, whereupon he briefly saw several couches and a fearful family glance up at him as he soared right across their apartment before exiting out the opposite window, landing hard on his back after crashing through the canopy of a small hut that sold souvenirs. There was another crash as Zach finally came to a stop after shattering a glass display case. Now, in addition to a frightened cry, he heard several people nervously muttering questions as commemorative coins and other little trinkets made slight patters as they fell out of the broken display case—that he was lying on top of—and began rolling all along the floor of this tiny little shop.

“You’re Zachys Calador, aren’t you?” a woman asked him.

“Y-yeah,” he said, sitting up. The motion caused a piece of glass to shake free of his head and fall onto his lap. “I’m so sorry about—”

“You’re so brave! We’re so glad you’re okay.”

“Oh. Thanks. Hey, I’m really sorry about your store. If there’s anything I can—”

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to worry about it. We support you, Zachys!”

The woman’s husband, who Zach supposed owned the business, actually began running his hand through Zach’s hair as if to wipe away some of the glass. “Are we under attack?” he asked. “I heard some of the commotion but was too busy to come see for myself. They’re saying two members of the Guild of Gentlemen are attacking us.”

Zach didn’t feel like trying to explain who these people were, so he merely nodded. This caused the man’s entire face to tighten. “Kill those mother fuckers!” he growled, his words suddenly becoming vulgar and filled with hate. “Kill them, their families, and their children! We support you, boy!”

Horrified, confused, and appalled all at once, Zach could do little more than nod politely as he backed out of the shop, which had a cloth screen for an entrance, and then he turned around and began running down the street hoping to find Jimmy before the assassin did. Yet even as he spun around an approaching cart then leapt over a stationary wagon selling carrots and other vegetables, he could not shake how disturbed he’d felt at that last interaction. Something told him that it did not bode well for society.

*****

Doma begged for them to stop. But they wouldn’t listen. Maks hit him yet again, and he went down. His nose was probably broken. He was struggling to breathe.

“Fucking piece of shit!” the boy screamed, as he along with the five other boys surrounding Doma began kicking him in his side. He could do little else but curl up into a ball and try to protect his face and groin as they all began stomping on him and kicking him time and time again.

“Please stop!” he begged, crying. “Please!”

“Fucking murderer!” they screamed.

He was only fifteen years old. He didn’t know anything about the war. He moved here to Giant’s Fall a year ago with his mother. He had nothing to do anymore with Shadowfall Coast. Why couldn’t they understand that?

School was out again today as Giant’s Fall was still in a state of emergency, and the kids had invited him to hang out in the alley behind the big park not far from the academy. He’d shown up, hoping to have some laughs and hang out for a few hours. Instead, they’d ambushed him, and now he was so scared. And everything was hurting. And he wanted his mom so bad. He couldn’t help but cry.

“Fucking Shadowfall Coaster,” one of the boys said, stomping on him. “We should piss on his face.”

“No! Please! I didn’t do nothin’, guys. I hate Shadowfall Coast too! I’m one of you.”

Alone, terrified, and wanting nothing more than to be friends with the kids from school, Doma felt his head go fuzzy as one of the boys stomped down on him in just such a way that his head banged against the pavement. Then he…confused. What? He wasn’t sure. How?

“Oh, shit. I think…oh Gods. I think we killed him.”

“He’s faking it.”

“No, Maks. Dude, he’d bleeding out of his ears. I think…oh, fuck. I think we just killed him.”

“Good. He deserves it for Ogre’s Axe!”

And with that, he died. Confused, alone, covered in filth. Degraded. And this must now be the afterlife, right? He felt an angel put his hands on his head. Or maybe it was one of the Gods. One hand was placed on the right side of his face, just above his cheek. And the other was placed on the left, not far from his scalp. Through his peripheral vision, he could see that both hands were glowing a bright green color as though they were filled with magic.

“You’re gonna be all right,” a voice said. “You’ll be okay.”

The face of the angel became clearer as his vision began to return. It was a blond-haired man in a leather jacket who looked more like a member of a rock band than an angel. Doma realized he was in some kind of facility. A hospital? He was in the hospital? It looked like one. His mother was there, too. Her eyes were so red from crying. She looked as if she’d been in the middle of an emotional breakdown. He had never seen such grief on anyone.

“Please. Please don’t let him die.”

“He’ll be all right. You’ve got my word.”

“Thank you, Doctor Ardona.” She sniffled, and Doma could see tears pouring out of her face. “I’d kill myself if I lost him.”

“Just Kesten’s fine, ma’am,” he said.

She only began to cry even harder. “Never thought a member of the guilds would come to save my boy.”

“We’re not all the same,” he said. He released Doma’s head, and now, he realized he was no longer hurting. He sat up and looked around, confused.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” the doctor named Kesten said. “You’re lucky I found you in that alley. Those kids left you for dead.”

“Alley?” he asked. His head still hurt a bit on second thought. “Oh, right. They got mad at me because—”

His mother lunged at him and grabbed hold in a way that was so tight it was embarrassing. Right here in front of an entire hospital room. He was 15, not 5. She didn’t have to be all…bleh.

“If there’s any way I can ever repay you,” she said as she clung to him. “Just say it. I don’t care what it is. Anything I have is yours.”

“I don’t want anything,” he said. “I’m just glad everything’s okay. I’ve got to go. I’m actually treating the radiation victims from Ogre’s Axe upstairs. I don’t have any time to stay and chat. Be well, both of you. If you need any more help, there are plenty of doctors who can take over for me now.”

With that, he walked away. Doma would never forget him.