The Last Experience Point

Chapter 143: An Uncertain World

Having spent way too much time today in front of cameras, Zach was glad to be relieved of the pressure. He sank deeper into the comfortable leather seating of Mr. Oren’s luxurious limousine DEHV with Jimmy beside him, and he relaxed while Mr. Oren, who sat across from him, beamed at him with a pleasant smile. Truthfully, Zach hadn’t known how Mr. Oren was going to react, but he was glad to see him appearing pleased. It meant he must’ve done okay, right?

As if to ease Zach’s doubts, Mr. Oren fired him a thumbs-up. “You were awesome, my man. But…a little bit of warning in advance of things would’ve been nice. Even still: it was only a matter of time before you had to answer to the public, and you really acquitted yourself well.” His smile widened. “You’ve surprised a lot of people—in a good way.”

It was still shocking to see Mr. Oren in his current state. He’d changed so much so quickly. His lab coat was nowhere to be seen, and he now wore contacts instead of those quirky cat-eye glasses. His white uniform was adorned with pins and medals, and he looked like the historical depiction of a fleet admiral. As Zach sighed with relief at the positive reaction, he turned his head to the side as the last part of what Mr. Oren said caused him some confusion.

“How do you know I surprised a lot of people?” Zach asked. In response, Mr. Oren lifted his phone then shook it as if to indicate the answer was obvious—which to be fair, it was. “Oh, right. You’ve probably been talking to the other guilds about this.” He paused a moment, then said, “But just so you know, I did try calling and texting you, but you’re so hard to get in touch with these days.”

“I know I am,” he admitted, his tone apologetic. “And I’m sorry for that. Regardless, I’m not really complaining. Truth is, sooner or later you would’ve had to come here to Dal’Zarrah and address the media. It’s one less issue for me to worry about now. But above all things, I’m just so proud of how you performed. I mean that, Zach.”

The words invoked a powerful emotion within Zach that he couldn’t quite describe. It was like a mixture of joy and pride. A few seconds later, however, it faded away, and a sense of gratitude swelled inside his chest, replacing it. “Thank you for what you told them all—about my dad, I mean. I can’t believe you got away with telling everybody the truth about that.” Zach exhaled. “It was really risky of you, but Gods, I appreciate it.”

Mr. Oren nodded. “The truth deserved to be known, and you deserved to be free of keeping it secret. Having said that, if I can be honest with you, Zach, it wasn’t as risky as you might think. Naturally, I cleared it with the Royal Roses first. It would’ve been incredibly irresponsible for me to do otherwise no matter how ethically correct.”

“Wait, seriously?” Zach asked, amazed. “They actually agreed to let you say that?”

“They did,” he confirmed. “To reward you for your excellent press conference and, in my own personal opinion, to improve your view of the guild. Though you never willingly joined, their view of you changed because of your press conference. Whether you meant to do so or not, you’ve caused them to believe you are truly one of them, and in turn, they’ve enthusiastically accepted you. I believe they intended this to be a gesture of what they feel is their goodwill. The message, I think, is obvious: that ensuring you are content with the guild is worth a small hit to their image.”

“I bet it’s worth a whole lot more than just that,” said the person sitting next to Mr. Oren; he was a tall but very thin man wearing a professional, light-blue-colored business suit. He had a tablet on his lap and a pair of reading glasses on his face. Zach couldn’t quite remember his name, though he recalled Mr. Oren introducing him earlier as his chief secretary. “Zach, you’re a very brave and clever young man, and I sure wish you were with us in Lords of Justice.”

Zach paused to consider what he could and couldn’t say in front of this man. It wasn’t because he had any kind of reason not to trust him, but more so that Adamus, as part of their deal, had forbidden him from sharing or discussing certain details among anyone who had not already been included within Zach’s existing circle of contacts.

“Thank you,” Zach said to him. Then, as he contemplated what to say next, his attention became diverted as Jimmy called out to him for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes.

“Yo, Zach, look at that one,” he said, pressing his pointer finger against the glass window at something off to their left.

“Whoah,” Zach whispered.

Though Zach had a lot he wanted to say to Mr. Oren, for the past few minutes, both he and Jimmy had not been able to stop themselves from constantly looking out of the window. The spectacular sights as they got closer towards the center of the city were mesmerizing. Ahead and to their left was a museum so large it spanned four city blocks. Outside of it were costumed characters from humanity’s past: actors who were taking photos and in some cases dancing with the pedestrians who encountered them. Zach recognized some, but not all—though he did notice one in particular that was decidedly not a historical figure.

He barked out a laugh. “Look, Jimmy,” he said, pointing at one of the actors. “It’s Grundor.”

“Wow, they nailed that costume. They even made it seem like a name and level are floating above his head.” Jimmy laughed. “It looks just like Grundor. Shit, I didn’t know his ass was so famous here. I see that dude in Angelica’s like all the time.”

“He’s really famous now,” Zach said. “He’s like the fucking—”

“Language, both of you,” Mr. Oren said disapprovingly, to which they both apologized.

Zach found his eyes glued to the scenery as the DEHV bumped along and made jerking, unsteady motions. The vehicle was moving in a very irregular way, often slowing down or speeding up without warning. This was very different from the Whispery Woods, a region far more accustomed to unbearable traffic conditions. Back there, DEHV speed on all main roads was automated based on volume so that, no matter how bad the traffic, they traveled with only very minor fluctuations.

One of the first things Mr. Oren had said when him and Jimmy had gotten into the DEHV was to excuse the “unpleasant” travel conditions. Apparently, tourism here had picked up a lot recently, and so the DEHVs had been relegated to ground travel, something unusual for Dal’Zarrah. Interestingly, despite how jarring Zach found the irregular motion, Jimmy appeared to be totally accustomed to it. He didn’t even seem to realize anything was out of the ordinary at all. But this actually made sense to Zach, as he recalled that Jimmy had grown up traveling around the world in “cars.” So this was probably normal to him.

It’s probably the DEHVs that he finds strange.

Despite much needing to be said, Mr. Oren seemed to have no problem giving them a moment to gawk at the sights of the city. Even still, Zach felt guilty. He knew he was on a limited time budget and that he didn’t come all this way to play tourist. “You can take pictures if you want,” the secretary person said to him. “Everyone does their first time here.”

Zach shook his head. “Not until I come back with Kal. She’ll be sad that she missed out on the experience with me. In fact, I’m not looking at anything else until I bring her here and we can see everything together.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mr. Oren said. It was a reaction that Zach found to be confusing.

“Huh? Why?”

“Because it means you’ll return with her. She needs to come eventually as well, especially since she’s slated to become the governor of humanity’s largest city, population wise. I hope you’ll be able to convince her to take the time to do so in the near future.”

At this, Zach couldn’t control the loud, but brief guffaw that escaped him. “Gods, you don’t have to worry about that at all. Kalana’s not me. She won’t take any convincing to show up here. If it’s something that she has to do, she will.”

“Good point,” Mr. Oren said, sharing a laugh with him. Then, with a bit more seriousness in his voice, he changed the topic of conversation. “Zach, I have to ask. Just how did you learn to do what you just did, my man? I think everyone who’s ever met you is wondering that right now.”

Zach had actually been expecting the question. “Believe it or not, it’s from watching a ton of news while I was on my vacation. Well, some of it is, at least. A big part of it is also because of stuff I learned from Fylwen. She’s been teaching me about how things work and all these different dynamics at play.”

“Interesting. Is that all?”

“Uh, well, I’ve also been having imaginary conversations with reporters in my head lately,” Zach said. “It’s because I knew the day would come when I got cornered by them again.” Zach shuddered at the memory of how badly he’d botched things after “escaping” his hospital room in Tomb of Fire. He’d really humiliated himself. “Anyways, I wanted to make sure I didn’t look like an idiot the way I did the last time.” Zach lifted his hand and scratched an itch on his head. “I didn’t realize I was going to end up stuck there for so long, though.”

Mr. Oren sat up straighter, and he opened his mouth, but said nothing. He held the position for a moment, and then finally, he spoke. “Zach,” he began, pausing yet again, which gave Zach the indication he was going to say something serious and potentially displeasing. “I just want you to understand the significance and importance of what you said about meeting with the various world leaders. That was a very important answer you gave—and it was the correct one, too.”

“Well, thanks,” Zach said. “It felt right to me at the time. I saw all the things GNT and N-B-O-N were saying about me, so I figured they’d lose their ability to criticize me like that if I—”

“No, wait, please,” Mr. Oren said, raising his palm. “I need you to understand, Zach, that those words must now be transformed into actions.”

Zach shrugged. “Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Meaning,” he continued, “that you’ll be expected to meet with foreign leaders and answer their questions.”

“Yep, no problem.”

“Really?”

Zach nodded. “Yeah, we’ll set something up eventually.”

At this, Mr. Oren made a slight grunt. “No, not eventually. Soon.”

“Like a few months from now, yeah.”

“No, Zach. This is what I was worried about. You’re not being serious. You probably think you can treat this with the same level of commitment as a man telling an old friend they should catch up some time. We need you to be ready to face the global community in a week or two at the most.”

Taken aback, Zach nearly leapt out of his seat. “A week or two?” he exclaimed. “Fuck that! Ahh, sorry, my language, I know. But look. I don’t have time for that. I’ve got like a billion other things I have to do.”

Mr. Oren narrowed his eyes, which told Zach he wasn’t in a very negotiating mood, at least not when it came to this topic. “It’s not a choice you need to make, Zach. You’ve already committed to doing it.”

“Yeah, but, like, you know, eventually. Why’s it got to be so soon?”

Mr. Oren shifted positions in his seat so that he leaned closer to Zach. “You scared a great many people during your two…let’s call them ‘incidents.’ But as much as that might have aroused fear in the human population, at the end of the day, you are also human. You are one of us. And you’re someone who fought to save countless human lives. For this reason, while there are many, many people who have concerns about you, on the whole of it, you’re still very popular in human society and most people have already long forgiven you for startling them. This, however, is not the case in the rest of the world.”

Zach listened intently as Mr. Oren began to speak slowly and more forcefully. “The rest of the world views you as a terrifying, dangerous human and a threat to their safety and wellbeing. And nowhere is this truer than it is in Dwarven society, where I regret to tell you that you are outright hated and despised.”

Zach threw up his arms in confusion. “Fucking why?” he asked—apologizing an instant later for his profanity. “I haven’t talked to a Dwarf, seen a Dwarf, or said anything about the Dwarves in basically forever!”

Mr. Oren knocked on the plastic divider behind him. “Pull over a second,” he ordered.

Confused and somewhat unsettled, Zach felt a rising sense of dread inside of him as the vehicle ground to a halt, pulling into a parking space just down the street from a gigantic coliseum with a tremendous banner advertising a performance from one of “Galterra’s greatest musicians” that would be taking place later tonight. As the DEHV came to a full stop, he swallowed down the nervous bile that rose up in his throat.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Here’s what you don’t seem to know…”

Mr. Oren closed his eyes a moment before reopening them and staring at Zach. He then informed Zach of something so awful it sent waves of disbelief and denial shimmering through him. He told Zach that, during their fight against the Ziragoth adds, Zach’s ability, Doomsday Slash, had caused Earthquakes in the Dwarvish continent, which resulted in numerous cave-ins of their underground dwellings. He claimed there’d been eight-hundred casualties along with thousands of injuries and the destruction of homes and businesses with damages in the billions.

“Wh-why haven’t I heard about this until now?” Zach asked, shouting out the words. “How come nobody told me? How come nobody ever reported on this?”

“The media have actually reported on it, but it’s been buried under other stories. It’s considered unimportant in human media, and so it’s no surprise you haven’t encountered it. Sadly, even if the news spent more time covering the story, most humans would still just tune it out and not care. There’s a lot of work to be done on that front.”

Zach wasn’t sure how to feel. So many thoughts raced through him. All this was a shock to him. “I think…I think I’m going to be sick,” he whispered, feeling queasy and unsettled.

“Before you do,” Mr. Oren said, “please know that there are many, many facts you’re unaware of that serve as mitigating factors.”

“Like what?” Zach asked, his throat beginning to dry.

“Well, for starters, the cave-ins were not entirely your fault. We were able to send independent investigators to the various scenes, and more are heading over there to continue researching what happened before we finally fight this out in the courts. But so far, human engineering experts found that structural inconsistencies and neglect played an outsized factor in those specific areas that saw the cave-ins. Furthermore, systematic failures on every level in the Dwarvish emergency services contributed to a slow response. So, do you see, Zach? There are numerous, pivotal details that greatly, greatly mitigate blame. If a random earthquake had occurred, the same thing would likely have happened. You are not a murderer, and you did not kill these people. What you have done is far closer in moral culpability to causing an accident by driving a faulty DEHV.”

Zach, despite Mr. Oren’s words, continued to have a lingering feeling of sickness that resided inside of him. Thank the Gods he had Jascaila in his life. Knowing he could talk to her about all this helped him keep it together despite the awful things he was being told. During all this, Jimmy was being totally quiet, showing no reaction at all as if not having any idea of what to say, and for that, Zach couldn’t blame him. He himself wasn’t sure how to respond. Thus, as he opened his mouth to speak, he decided to ask a question rather than respond directly to Mr. Oren’s claims.

“What do you mean by ‘fight it out in the courts?’”

Mr. Oren pointed towards somewhere outside of the window without even looking as if to gesture at the general city itself. “As I’m sure you know,” he said, “we’re working hard to get humanity readmitted into global trade. There are numerous obstacles to that end, and the biggest one, by a mile, is the situation with the Guild of Gentlemen. Nothing is going to happen until that’s resolved. But there are many other issues, too. One of them is humanity again submitting itself to the global courts.”

“Global courts? I think I learned about that in history. We haven’t gone there in a long time, right?”

“Correct,” Mr. Oren said. “Since before either of us were born. To put things simply, the Dwarves are suing the UCH for damages, and this, for sure, is going to be viewed as a test of humanity’s commitment towards reconnecting itself. Though it rarely makes the news, humanity is served with court orders all the time, and typically, they’re laughed off and ignored. But not this time.” Determination filled his eyes. “Zach, if we ever want to again be seen as legitimate in the eyes of the world, we need to answer their summons and show up to litigate this in the global courts, and then we need to obey the outcome as well.”

“Will we win?”

“Not a chance,” Mr. Oren replied immediately, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “At least not if by ‘winning’ you mean we are found not responsible. No, we will absolutely be ordered to pay restitution to the families of those killed and hurt, and in my opinion, that is fair and just: but the question is how much? For the first time in decades, human guild representatives have been invited to their mine-cities as required by the global courts. Had it not been for such a truly awful purpose, that fact itself would be worthy of celebration. It’s been decades, Zach: decades since humans have been granted permission to step foot in Dwarvish lands. In this case, it’s to perform our own investigation to bolster our defense in court. But this is a process that will take a long time to play out; there will be many hearings along the way as each side argues fault and blame.”

Zach rubbed his face, suddenly feeling weary. “I just wanted to save you and everybody. I never meant for any of that to happen.”

At this, Mr. Oren leaned forward, firmly grabbed his hand, and gave him a fierce look. “That’s why this is my fault too. And Donovan’s.”

“What? How do you figure?”

Mr. Oren’s gaze became even sharper. “You are not to shoulder the blame of this yourself. I may not be an adventurer anymore, but I was when this happened, and as any adventurer will attest, the actions of one member of a raid group are the actions of the entire raid group. Perhaps, if we’d listened to you warning us of Ziragoth’s sentience, we might have been better prepared. You are only as responsible as myself or Donovan or anyone else on that raid. We share this equally.”

Zach tried to make sense of what he was saying, but he found Mr. Oren’s words to be contradicting both in tone and substance. “I don’t get it. I can’t tell if you want me to feel guilty and responsible, or if you want me to feel like I didn’t do anything bad after all. Why bring this up at all just to tell me not to feel too bad about it?”

Mr. Oren released his grip and then slowly returned his hand to his lap. “I’m not telling you how you should feel at all, actually. The way you process this is personal to you. What I am telling you, Zach, is that you should consider your own culpability within the context of events. You were trying to save our lives in the moment, but on a grander scale, you were trying to—and succeeded—in saving the lives of so many more. And when viewing the entire raid as a string of events that began with putting the dragon to sleep and ended with killing it the next day”—he gestured with his hands, placing them opposite one another as if to convey the idea of something large—“this tragedy unfortunately happened as a consequence of the entire process. It was an unavoidable but nevertheless unacceptable outcome. For my part, I would have done nothing differently, yet I can still feel remorse despite this.”

As Zach carefully reflected on Mr. Oren’s words, he thought he finally understood what Mr. Oren was getting at: that it was possible for correct actions to have bad, unintended consequences, and that even if what Zach had done, in the moment, was not the wrong thing, it didn’t mean he could simply dismiss any harm he’d caused people because of it.

“I get it,” he said. “I really do.”

“I can tell. And I’m glad.” Now, lifting his hands off his lap and then slapping them back down playfully, he said, “So, with all that out of the way, what brings you here, Zach? I was going to meet you later today. To be candid, I’m pretty sure I have some idea, but I’d like to hear it from you directly.”

Zach chuckled. Amid all this, he’d almost forgotten his whole reason for visiting Mr. Oren in the first place. “I have to be careful about what I say in front of your secretary, no offense, but I actually came for two reasons. The first is to update you on what’s going on, as a lot of things happened this morning. And the second thing is to talk about the world leaders with you. I wasn’t bullshitting about what I said to those reporters. I really did come to talk about that. That really is why I’m here.”

Mr. Oren lifted his eyebrows. “You’ve got me intrigued. What in particular did you wish to discuss?”

“The World Eater,” he said, locking eyes with Mr. Oren. “See, lately, I’ve had this feeling that humans alone aren’t going to be able to stop it. For Galterra to survive, we’re going to need the rest of the world on our side. Oh, and before you flip out and start getting all worked up because I said ‘World Eater’ out loud, just know that…wait, you’re not getting worked up at all, are you? Hey, why are you so calm? I just said World Eater right in front of this guy”—he pointed at the secretary—“and you don’t even seem to care.”

Mr. Oren laughed. “It is quite a surprise, both that you can remember it and also that you’re stating it openly. But I’ve been informed as of an hour ago that our mutual friend has appeared in person on Elendroth, which I can only presume is the result of some kind of compromise. Am I close?”

“That’s…right,” Zach whispered, amazed and baffled. “But how do you know about that?”

Like before, Mr. Oren tapped on the plastic divider, which Zach took to be a signal for the driver to continue on. Zach’s body made a slight rocking motion as the vehicle pulled away and resumed heading towards wherever they were going. Then Mr. Oren responded to his question.

“I received a notification that Queen Vayra was claiming an Elvish Great One had ‘returned’ and was currently on her island, and that she’s invited all appropriately ranked guild members to visit. Obviously, the media is being completely restricted from reporting on this since the existence of the Great Ones is not common knowledge and it’s not clear how the public would react. At any rate, I’m eager to hear the details of what happened, as I don’t know anything else aside from what I just told you. Also, don’t worry about Dalin. If there’s anything sensitive you don’t feel you can say in front of him, he won’t take any offense. We can discuss such things after we reach my office.”

Zach took a moment to avert his gaze and quietly mull over what Mr. Oren had just told him. It sounded like, in the time since he and Jimmy had left the island, Fylwen had decided to use the Great One’s existence to the advantage of her people, which meant there was a whole different dimension now to all of this.

She’s really cunning, Zach thought, genuinely impressed by her instincts.

Returning back to the subject at hand, Zach nodded and said, “Well, there’s definitely a lot I can’t say in front of him. All I can tell you right now is that I’m allowed to remember the World Eater exists, and I’m allowed to talk about it now, too. I can actually tell anyone I want. Uh…but I don’t know if I should go releasing the information just yet. I hope your secretary knows not to repeat this stuff.”

“Of course I do, Sir Calador,” he said, sounding a touch offended at the suggestion that he might not.

Zach gave the man, Dalin, an awkward smile. “Sorry, just making sure.” Once more regarding Mr. Oren, he said, “But anyway, it’s something I eventually want the whole world to know about, and I need your help to get them on board.”

Mr. Oren’s demeanor became serious. “Of course,” he said. “Absolutely. But Zach, for me to do this, you’re going to need to follow through on your commitments as well. It will help the process. Before I can even broach the topic of the World Eater’s existence—let alone attempt to enlist global aid—we have to begin building mutual trust. And you’re going to have to play your part in that.”

Zach sighed. “If I really have to, I will. It just seems so dumb to waste time answering questions when everything I told the reporters before is basically all there is to know. I don’t see what else they need to—”

Jimmy cleared his throat, drawing Zach’s attention and interrupting him; both he and Mr. Oren turned their heads to look at him. For a while now, he’d been almost completely silent, typing away on his new phone nearly nonstop. “Uh, hey, Zach?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“So uh, Angelica’s leaving Elendroth and heading back to her inn, and the adventurers aren’t staying much longer, either. Anyway, a bunch of them want me—both of us, actually—to run them through the path we took through Nolak and even take a stab at the boss on F30. But yeah. You good here? I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Head out?” Zach asked him.

“Did you just say Nolak?” Mr. Oren asked, his mouth falling slightly ajar and his eyes widening. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “That’s how we got here.”

“You came through Trials of Nolak?” Mr. Oren asked with a gasp. “Really? Not Hamen’s Isle?”

“The hell is that?” Zach asked.

“It’s…” Mr. Oren rubbed his eyes with his right hand. “You don’t know?”

“Nope. I asked Jascaila the easiest way to get here, and she told me about Trials of Nolak.”

“Didn’t she warn you that it’s an unused dungeon?” Mr. Oren asked, sounding more surprised than he had during this entire conversation so far.

“Yeah. But so what?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jimmy chimed in. “So what?”

Mr. Oren half-moaned, half-sighed. “Unused dungeons—sometimes called unpopular dungeons—become that way for a reason. They’re dungeons that need to be slowly, carefully, and methodically explored and documented before we would even consider instructing the grand libraries to guide adventurers to them. She shouldn’t have even told you despite the warning. I doubt she had bad intentions, but honestly, you two are so lucky to be alive. Thank the Gods that you made it here all right. You should never explore uncharted, unpopular dungeons.”

“What’s the difference?” Zach asked, confused. “We’re supposed to discover dungeons and find out what’s inside of them on our own to begin with, right? How’s this any different?”

“It’s very different,” Mr. Oren said. “We nudge adventurers towards dungeons that we believe they stand a decent chance of handling. Or…not ‘we,’ sorry—I’m not part of that group anymore—but adventurers do. The fact that so many die anyway is a testament to how dangerous this approach is to begin with. But uncharted dungeons are dungeons that we know so little about and aren’t likely to learn more of any time soon, making them incredibly dangerous.”

“How come ya’ll don’t explore them, then?”

Mr. Oren glanced expectedly at Jimmy as if he’d known Jimmy would ask him that. “Typically—but not always—unexplored dungeons remain that way because the previous exploration group never returned. In the case of Trials of Nolak, I believe the last time an adventuring party went to explore it was a few-hundred years ago, and it resulted in a total wipe. No one ever emerged. We know from records where some of its entry-points and world-exits are located, but we have no idea what goes on once inside. I strongly recommend you never go back. A dungeon like that is probably meant to remain a dead relic.”

With a tone of voice that sounded smug—way more so than Zach intended—he raised his finger and said, “Well, I’ll have you know, Mr. Oren, that Trials of Nolak used to be one of the most-popular dungeons in all of Galterra, with thousands upon thousands of adventurers fighting each other just to get inside.”

Mr. Oren blinked with skepticism and confusion plain on his face. “How can you possibly know that?”

“Mushkie told us.”

“Mushkie?”

“Yep.”

“And…who is that?”

Reacting to the question, Zach and Jimmy excitedly described to Mr. Oren exactly what they’d experienced on the way over here, which seemed to blow his former teacher’s mind. Yet for all the amazement that popped onto his expression, there was also delight. By the time he and Jimmy finished their story, Mr. Oren was grinning ear to ear.

“That’s…incredible,” he said, staring at each of them. “An item shop that sells a weekly assortment of randomly selected items? Dungeon escape ropes? Elite mobs? Gods, you two have made some discovery. And you told the others about this?”

Zach tried not to make too sour of an expression, but he failed. “Yeah, but we told them too soon.” He then explained his plan to sell the items and maybe even the information itself until Jimmy went and blabbered it as soon as they came here. Predictably—but still disappointingly—Mr. Oren agreed with Jimmy, not Zach, but it was whatever at this point.

“So that’s basically how we got here and what happened,” Zach said. “Jascaila quit adventuring a long time ago, so she probably didn’t really know how bad of an idea it was to let us come.”

“That I believe,” Mr. Oren said. “She quit before I was born, actually. Her and Donovan are older than they look.”

“I know. She told me.”

Jimmy, glancing down at his phone, lifted his head a moment later. “Anyway, they want me to start heading out and get to Angelica’s. Donovan says they can meet me there and exit-shift me back to Whispery Woods whenever we head out to the raid. And don’t worry, uh, Lord Oren, they ain’t playing around. We’re going for overkill. Since this is gonna be for exploration more than anything else, Donovan and Zephyr are saying there’s no cap on the number of raid members. They’ll bring hundreds if they can get that many people.”

Zach looked at him. “Can you tell them to wait an hour for me to finish up with Mr. Oren? I want to go too!”

Jimmy nodded. “Of course, dude. I’ll text them right now to—”

Mr. Oren held up his hand. “Zach, aren’t we meeting with the Great One to discuss the nuclear situation after this? And don’t we have more pressing matters to attend to following that?”

A nervous, unsettling, and acidic pain crept its way into Zach’s stomach, as he was now reminded of what he had to do in the coming hours. He was going to have to kill again, wasn’t he? He’d forgotten. Though, perhaps part of his reason for even coming out here in the first place was so that he would forget. He wanted nothing more than to head off with Jimmy and go back to that dungeon and continue exploring it. Yet the entire purpose he’d even gone there in the first place was to bring them here. He’d simply gotten so swept up in it all that he’d lost sight of that.

This wasn’t about adventuring or finding item shops or boss fights, he thought. This was about all the other shit I have to take care of. Gods, I don’t want to do this.

“Are you okay, Zach?” Mr. Oren asked him.

“You can see it on my face?”

“I can, my man.”

Zach drew a breath then released it slowly. “I know what we have to do.”

To Jimmy, Mr. Oren said, “Why don’t I let you and Dalin off on the next corner, and he can order you another DEHV and personally escort you back to the grand library. Row 19 leads to Hamen’s Isle. Head down two floors, ride the ferry, kill ten slimes, and then win the dance competition—it’s easy, don’t worry—and you’ll be back in Angelica’s.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Jimmy said, reacting way too casually to what was, in Zach’s opinion, a wild set of instructions.

“The mobs you’ll encounter are all level 25 and lower.”

“Got it. Hey, um, you said something about a dance competition?”

“It’s easy, I assure you.”

Gods, that sounds so damn fun! Zach thought, trying his best to conceal his envy.

The DEHV began to slow once more, and Zach, half getting out of his seat and leaning forward, allowed Jimmy to slide behind him on his way to the passenger-side door to their left. Before doing so, Jimmy patted Zach twice on the back and said, “Next time, you’ll come. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I know,” Zach said sadly, watching as he exited the vehicle with Mr. Oren’s secretary. The two disappeared from view a moment later.

“Do you know what you’re feeling right now?” Mr. Oren asked him once they were gone.

“Disappointment?”

“No. Responsibility. Now, tell me everything that happened.”

******

Jimmy received what could only be described as a hero’s welcome as he opened the door and the smell of Angelica’s struck him like a bullet made of love. After a brief, hour-long traipse through a kiddie dungeon that felt more like an amusement park ride, he walked into Angelica’s to the sound of cheers, raised mugs, and musical instruments.

“There the fucker is!” Donovan cried from all the way across the tavern where he sat at the bar counter. It was so noisy and the cheering was so loud that Jimmy could only barely make out the man’s voice. “Get on over here! You’re lucky we waited for ya, you tardy prick! Angelica, let the kid have a beer.”

“Nope!” she said as Jimmy laughed and made his way over to them. “Two more years. Non-negotiable.”

“It’s all right,” Zephyr said, sitting next to Donovan. “I can give him a sip of mine.”

Angelica’s name flashed red. “You sure about that, Zephyr?”

“Nope. Not sure at all, ma'am.”

"Good."

This inspired more laughing, more toasting, and more great vibes. But the best vibe of all came in the form of Tena, who popped out from behind the counter as if wanting to surprise him. Jimmy took off at a run, scooped her up, and then hugged her tightly. “Had a lot more happen today than I was expecting,” he said to her.

“I’ve heard.”

“Are you coming with us?”

She nodded. And he hugged her again. “We found something amazing, Tena.”

“I can’t wait to see it. Mushkie, right?”

"That's right. He's a bit eccentric, but he's nice enough."

Jimmy smiled. He loved it here. Distantly, he did feel a bit of sadness—a bit of a stain on his mood—as he knew how badly Zach wanted to be a part of this but couldn’t. He didn’t know what the kid was up to, but it sounded like he was in some serious shit that Jimmy couldn’t help him with. PVP shit. Even still, he really wished he could be part of this. At the end of the day, this was as much his discovery as it was Jimmy’s. The two of them together had made it to the item shop, and Zach deserved to be here to experience the clearing of F29 and the boss on F30.

We might even push a little farther than that.

“So,” he said, hopping up to the bar counter where a cherry cola was already waiting for him, “I’m guessing I’m leading this raid, right?”

Donovan barked out a laugh. “You wish.”

Jimmy glared at him. “You serious? How have I not proved myself yet? No way any of you dudes would’ve survived the dungeon if you were there without me.”

“Maybe not,” Donovan said with a grunt, fixing him with such an abruptly serious, hard look that it caused some of Jimmy’s cockiness to abate. “But knowing things and leading a hundred men in real life ain’t the same thing. I know you think you can do this, kiddo, and I believe you can when you’re ready. Not today, though.”

Jimmy frowned. But Donovan’s jovial mood returned, and he seemed to want to cheer him back up. “But you know what you do get to be today?”

“What?”

He slapped Jimmy playfully on the shoulder, and it hurt every bit as much as Zach had warned him it would. Dude was trying to kill him or something for real. Goddamn. “You get to be a raid captain.”

“Raid captain? Aww, man, that’s not even…whatever.”

“Hey, that’s a big fuckin’ honor,” Donovan growled. Then he downed his beer and slammed it on the countertop. “I didn’t get to be a raid captain till I was twenty-five.”

Zephyr chuckled. “You’ll get there, Jimmy. But Donovan’s not wrong. I know you think you’re ready, but when someone dies on a raid, it’s not the same as dying in a simulation. Having so many lives depending on you for their survival…this is just something you need to learn slowly. It's hard to explain. You'll see it with time.”

Jimmy nodded, knowing it was best not to push the point any further. “I get you. All right. We’ll do it your way.”

As he ordered a plate of food and ate dinner with Tena, he conveyed to Donovan and Zephyr in great detail everything that he’d done with Zach with exact specificity, including even the most minor details. During his explanation, Donovan mused that the last exploration group that’d been sent hundreds of years ago likely died due to the traps and not the mobs in the puzzle room.

“They’re probably still active,” Zephyr said. “Even though he’s cleared F27, the traps themselves will likely still be just as fatal. We need to make sure no one steps in them.” He rubbed his chin a moment then got out of his stool and turned around. “Everyone going on the raid has to stop drinking now!” he shouted. This resulted in a chorus of angry swearing and a few thrown pieces of bread from the rowdy adventurers who didn’t take kindly to the suggestion. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Yeah, right!” one of them cried. “Buzz-kill!”

“Zephyr’s gone soft!” another shouted.

Angelica emerged from behind her counter and glared at them. “Boys, clean up whatever you just threw or I’m kicking you out for a week!”

“Sorry, Angelica!”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. These people were nuts, but he was all for it. He just hoped Zach was all right. Angelica was supposed to go and take him back to the island in an hour or two. Jimmy shuddered at the thought of what would happen afterwards.

*****

“If you think this makes you any better than the others, it doesn’t,” Vim said to Gaelan Malakor. He’d always gotten along well with the man in their brief interactions, yet as the seventh—or was he now the sixth?—in command of the Guild of Gentlemen dabbed at his blood-covered form with a wet, medicated cloth, he couldn’t help but sneer at the sight of him bedecked in the dragon’s equipment, which as far as Vim was concerned, was stolen from those who’d actually slain the beast.

“I’m sorry for how they’ve treated you,” he said, clearly not willing to take the bait on Vim’s provocations. “I believe in law and justice. You’ll be executed for your crimes tomorrow, but the way you’ve been tortured so far is unacceptable. You have my word that you won’t be harmed again until you face judgement in the morning.”

Vim let out a bout of scorn-filled laughter. “What a relief. I guess I can sleep easy now.”

In truth, Vim doubted he could sleep at all. Though he’d been unshackled and provided a meager cot to rest on, he could no longer walk. His legs had been broken during his previous beating, and so had his right hand. He’d been fed only once or twice in more than two weeks, losing considerable weight. He’d been small to begin with, but he was now dangerously malnourished. His body was bruised all over, his eyes blackened, and despite it all, he harbored no regrets, as it had either been this or letting his people face another of their Gods-cursed bombs.

“You stole that,” he said to Gaelan. He attempted to lift his wrist and point his finger at the man’s new gear, but he was too weak to do even that much. Instead, he merely glared at the silver, exotic-looking armor and trusted Gaelan to know what he was referring to.

“In war, these things happen,” Gaelan said. “You tried to steal our land.”

Vim didn’t feel like arguing the point. He lacked the energy to do so even if he wanted. In his current state, he wondered if he’d even live long enough to make it to the execution tomorrow. He’d taken so many hits to the head it was a miracle he still had his wits about him. Had he the vigor, perhaps he’d waste some time trying to talk sense into this oaf, who like his guild, did not understand that North Bastia had been suffering as a result of Peter IV’s insanity, and that the various global powers would never be willing to readmit humanity into the trading fold while Shadowfall Coast, a key port of entry, was still controlled by the Guild of Gentlemen.

They’re delusional, he thought. They don’t even care.

There was an unprecedented economic crisis looming on the horizon. The various guilds had staved it off as long as they could. But it was only a matter of time before the bubble burst. If they could not find some way of undoing the damage inflicted by Peter IV, then within another decade or so, North Bastia’s economy would collapse, and the Gods only knew what kind of chaos that would create.

Will I leave the world in a worse state than when I entered it? Vim wondered, contemplating on his failures.

He refused Gaelan’s attempts to make unserious, idle conversation. The two were in a small, damp room that was dimly lit by three small candles that Gaelan had placed. It sure beat the darkness he’d grown accustomed to prior to this. There even seemed to be less roaches and filth in this part of the dungeon, where he’d been “relocated” pending his execution in the coming hours.

“…and my daughter got the best grades in her class on that project, too,” he said, smiling as he bandaged one of Vim’s wounds.

“What’s the point?”

“The point?” he asked, his voice soft. “Well, it’s a leadership class. It’s designed—”

“No, you fucking halfwit! What’s the point of dressing my wounds? I’m going to die tomorrow.”

“Common decency,” he said. “And I don’t appreciate the tone.”

“Oh, really? You don’t appreciate the tone? What has come over me? My father taught me to die politely.”

“Yeah, you’re rude. But it’s all right.” He finished what he was doing then stood up. “If you really want to be alone, I’ll leave. No one will bother you. But if you want someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Vim forced out a derisive laugh. “I’d rather the silence, thank you.”

He spat after the man as he turned around and left. Or at least he tried to. He couldn’t really spit anymore as he was so badly dehydrated. He was pretty sure he was running a fever, too. With any luck, maybe he would just close his eyes and die. He was awfully tired.