“Is this about the dragon?” Josh asked. “Or Jonah's assassin?”

“The first,” Mizuno said, unconcerned. “I am sorry, Mister Hundredborn. I have my orders.”

Josh didn't waste any more time. He charged forward at top speed, leveraging his physical advantages to the fullest. He might be stuck in a [Utility] class for now, but he had been rolling [Combat] classes most of his life. He was tough, fast, and strong.

He also knew the weaknesses of the [Tamer] role, and the Beast Caller class. The entire point of a [Tamer] was the minions; there were always exceptions, but most of the classes were largely helpless on their own. Beast Caller was one of those, with the caveat that Mizuno could just summon his pets to his side in a moment. Not to mention that, as a [Combat] class, Mizuno could learn other combat techniques and spells. It was difficult to learn anything directly outside his role, but if he was smart, he would have learned a few.

The closest Josh had to a combat technique was [Chop Tree]. It required an ax, which he had. It required stamina, which he had, and melee range. When he got close enough to Mizuno, he raised his ax. Mizuno flinched back, clearly surprised at his sudden rush. Josh figured that he hadn't thought a [Utility] class would be so quick or aggressive.

However, [Chop Tree] wasn't a combat technique. It was a utility technique for the [Crafter] role, and was therefore extremely overspecialized. It was designed to work on trees, and could sometimes be stretched to work on tree-like objects; wooden fences, tree monsters, that sort of thing. It could never be used on a person. The technique simply wouldn't activate.

[Empty Chop] was not a utility art. It was a combat art, and would work on anything.

Josh activated his new art, channeling it through his ax. The art was designed to work without a weapon, but the description had said the effect would vary if he used one anyway. Before, it had released a single slash of cutting energy, exactly as if he had swung an ax, just without the ax.

Now that he was swinging an ax, the energy was far more dense, a gray sheen in the air like light made solid. It crashed down onto a shimmering shroud that Mizuno had around him, which was a surprise. He didn't know where he had gotten a shroud device, but it didn't matter. While it dissipated most of the art's energy, some force got through and cut into his head.

Mizuno leaped back, still alive but clearly injured. He pressed his hand to his forehead, staunching a wound, and then muttered a curse in Japanese and ripped off his mask and leather helmet.

Before he could follow up his attack, Josh was stopped dead by what he saw.

The man was Japanese, that much was obvious. The color of his skin, the angle of his black eyes, and even the way his black hair was tied up in a topknot all made him look unquestionably Japanese.

His pointed ears were something else altogether.

Josh had met plenty of people with pointed ears before. He'd always thought it was a cute little quirk, especially since so many fantasy races had pointed ears when plenty of perfectly ordinary humans had them, to various degrees. When he was growing up, he knew a kid who had ears so pointy they looked like someone had taken a knife to them.

Mizuno's ears were not pointy. They were long and tapered, almost rising above his head. They looked long enough to be used as radio antennae, and it had clearly been painful to scrunch them down under the helmet. There was no way that these ears could possibly be mistaken for anything human. In fact, combined with his willowy build, Josh could only come to one possible conclusion.

“You're an elf?” he asked, incredulous. “Elves are a thing?”

Mizuno scowled, the first real emotion Josh had felt from him. He wiped his face, smearing the blood from the cut on his forehead. “I'm human.”

Josh stared at him. “You don't look human.”

Mizuno scoffed. “Says the dwarf.”

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Josh blinked. Wait, what? Where had that come from?

The elf stood there, glaring and not making a move, so Josh allowed himself to be distracted for a moment. He tried to think about this from Mizuno's perspective. Mizuno was a full two feet taller than most people and built like a beanpole. What did Josh look like to him?

Well, now that he thought about it, Josh probably looked short, compact, and practically as wide as he was tall. He also noticed that Mizuno didn't have any chin scruff, while Josh was getting some stubble because he hadn't shaved since yesterday. To him, Josh probably looked just like a fantasy dwarf.

“Earth-type,” Josh said, realization dawning. “It's right on our character sheets. We're earth-type humans.”

Mizuno nodded, his expression calming. “You are. As I am a water-type human.” His face scrunched up in disgust. “An... elf, some people would say.” He took a deep breath. “Waterworlder is the more polite term.”

Josh would have thought a water-type species would have gills, but fine, whatever. “I don't know why you're doing this, but surely we can work—”

“I am doing this,” Mizuno said, a sad look on his face, “because your world is drowning. Your world is already dead, and nothing I do actually matters.” He shook his head. “I came here for nothing important, but Flamebreak had other ideas. He wants to be free, and he does not appreciate loose ends.” He sighed. “I am sorry, Mister Hundredborn.”

“Flamebreak—the dragon?” Josh's jaw fell open. “You're working for the dragon?”

“A temporary contract, I assure you.” The bastard really did sound like he was trying to be reassuring. As if Josh would care in the slightest.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he said, laying on the sarcasm as thick as he could. “I didn't realize you were only helping him on a temporary basis. So does your little contract end before or after he kills the entire world?”

Mizuno didn't look annoyed, or angry, or defensive. He just looked sad.

“This world,” he said flatly, “is dead. It is a drowning man with no land in sight. The monsters will grow stronger, until eventually you have no hope of surviving the reset.”

“I have a Crafter class,” Josh insisted. “We have a chance.”

“Oh, child.” The elf just looked so unaccountably sad. “Most worlds have a full roster of classes. Most worlds work tirelessly for decades, for centuries, building up their walls and their defenses. They drown nonetheless.” He shook his head. “Your world has already died once. Every single human alive but for the Eight Immortals died, correct?”

That wasn't quite correct, but Josh decided it was close enough to not be worth an argument.

“Your world is like a man who found one last burst of strength. One last kick to push his head above the water.” Mizuno closed his eyes. “But there is still no land in sight. He is still tired, and gasping, and he has no way to survive. He just has a few seconds left.” He opened his eyes again. “This world is doomed, Mister Hundredborn. Nothing I do, and nothing you do, will change that.”

“Then why come after me?” he demanded. “Seems like a bit of a daffy idea if nothing matters.”

“You can't save this world,” Mizuno reiterated. “That's not the problem. The problem is that you could kill Flamebreak.”

Josh felt his heart skip a bit. What?

Mizuno shrugged and continued in a more casual tone. “Or at least seriously inconvenience him in a variety of ways. Flamebreak doesn't want to destroy this world, or conquer it, or whatever else you think he's doing. He couldn't, anyway. He just wants the Tower.”

Josh narrowed his eyes. “Then that's even more daft, innit? The Tower's dead. An empty shell. You can go see it for yourself. No one's stopping you.”

According to the histories, when the Tower had first arrived, it had seemed like an infinite treasure chest. Each floor had been the size of a city, a self-contained world that was filled with magic and wonders. One might be a vast cavern filled with glittering magical gems and valuable metals practically falling out of the walls—but protected by golems and elementals. Another was a seemingly endless plain of wildflowers, magic herbs and hostile plant monsters both calling the place home. Each floor had higher-level enemies, more challenges, and more treasures.

It had taken decades to clear the Tower even after the human race understood what they were doing, and what was at stake. In the end, it hadn't been enough. Eight people survived the Last Raid, the final boss fight on the last floor. Eight people on the entire planet still alive.