Ben turned sharply at the sudden noise behind him. He saw a Habligan, a large bear-like creature with the head of a lion. It stood nine feet tall with its back straight, it extended an arm, and at the end of the furry arm was a paw, with fingers instead of claws, Ben pulled an Amphiptere egg from a pouch on his belt and placed one upon the Habligan’s outstretched hand. The creature brought it up to its snout, gave it a sniff, and then swallowed the egg, Ben stood patient. The creature reached behind its back, judging from the straps across its chest, it had a great many things tied behind its back. It picked one at random and threw it in front of Ben. Ben watched as a halberd landed at his feet, the sharp pole digging into the ground, the Habligan walked away.

Ben picked it up and let out a smile, after seven long weeks, he had finally gotten the correct weapon, this was no mere polearm, this was the Arbarumah wielded by the great Alfred of Haldersberg, leader of the army of Fusang which repelled the great armies of Norumbega during the Atrian wars, and… Ben’s once true rival, and only friend.

When one meets a Habligan, they have two choices, either challenge it, a fight which only four warriors in history have won solo, or trade the egg of any flying snake for a weapon from one of its many battles. Ben had no interest in avenging Alfred, only interested in retrieving his weapon.

Ben took the halberd; Arbarumah, one of the four great spears made by the master blacksmith Delcus, a self-proclaimed descendant of Hephaestus, one of the old gods. He would have to make the trek back to a nearby settlement, and considering he did not want to climb the mountains, the nearest town to the Himavanta Forest was Thrais, a trading village, which survived on supplying those stupid enough to challenge Habligans with weapons.

It would be a four-day trek, but Ben was determined to make it, for this was the last promise he had made to his master Sindray, he told his master that he would gather the four great spears for the next generation of heroes to wield against the enemies of Uruk, for after five hundred years, the continent of Uruk had finally united. From, the monks of the Himalaya mountains, to the foreign settlers of Norumbega, to even the once mysterious nation of Fusang, they had all been united when the war over the Atrian Plains had been brought to an end by the Magimact alliance, a group of warriors who had found proof that the old magic still existed, and used the limited amount they could wield to rain down meteors upon what was once the Atrian Plains; now known as the Atrian Crater.

For the first time in five hundred years, the entire continent of Uruk stood under one flag, they stood for one cause, the revival of magic, and that is when our enemies saw us. Once the greatest nation, reduced to infighting, standing united once again. In the five hundred years since magic disappeared the Le’Jook, and the Lepra had created technologies beyond our understanding, their ships were made of metal, and their carts could launch stones a hundred meters. The once barbarians of the Antron continent had developed horseback riding and weapons of great range, and… Uruk had been left in the dust, knowing no more than melee weapons, with four weapons of any range left; the four spears of Delcus, the last hope.

Ben had finally retrieved the last one, once he submitted it to the Magimact alliance, his mission would come to an end, and he would finally be able to join Alfred and Sindray. He would join his family and his ancestors, his foes and friends alike. He would join the old gods, there was no place for an old Munsler like him. The profession had died out long ago, for no one needed a monster hunter on their side any longer.

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After the three-week trek, Ben finally made it to the village of Thrais, but something was wrong. There was no one here, no eager children playing in the streets. No worried mothers telling them off, no hard-working fathers, making a living. Not even fools looking to challenge their luck against the Habligan. Ben drew a pugio from his side, holding it in his left hand as he looked around the village. He made his way towards Epto, a church of the Animal Gods. There he found a boy, no more than seventeen, with his hands outstretched towards a statue of Ra, his arms slightly bent, palms forward, the right hand in front of the left. The boy went to one knee and said, “Dua.”

Ben recognized this as an ancient Animal God prayer. The boy turned to face Ben; a look of surprise crept on his face as he realized someone else was in the building with him. Ben waited for the boy to speak first, and so the boy did, “Are you, my guide?”

Ben did not reply, instead asking a question of his own, “What has happened to the villages of Thrais?”

The boy looked at Ben strangely before replying, “I assume they left to Fusang, when they heard of the war.”

This got Ben’s attention, “War? What war? With whom?”

“The war with Sfat, of course.”

Svat was the fifth continent, but as far as Ben was aware, they had no method of getting to Uruk. Sfat is where the settlers of Norumbega hail from, and every man, woman and child go to war from the age of 12.

“This does not bode well,” said Ben, more to himself than the boy. Ben looked up and asked, “Why aren’t you going then?”

“Well,” the boy said. “I believe that the rewards of my journey outweigh the risks of the Sivians.”

Ben at that moment saw a glint in the boys' eyes. An all too familiar glint. It was one he had seen in his own reflection many years ago, it was one he had seen in the eyes of his fellows and his enemies, and it was one he had seen in the eyes of his son, he saw the look that no boy had, he saw the look of a man who knows his own destiny. A man who will stop at nothing to attain his dream. A man who is prepared to sacrifice everything to succeed in his promised future. Ben wanted to advise the boy not to continue on this journey, that it would bring nothing but despair. That it held nothing but heartbreak. Instead Ben merely asked, “What is the path set out before you, boy?”

The boy answered, “I will retrieve the Magiktab, and revive magic, bring a new era to this world.”

“I see.”

Then the boy looked into Ben’s eyes and asked, “You never answered my question from earlier. Are you my guide to the magical world?”

At that moment, without thinking, Ben knew he couldn’t let the boy go on his own. He wouldn’t fail another youth trying to achieve his dream, and Ben answered instinctively, “Yes, I am.”

Ben wasn’t quite sure why he lied, he knew he had to deliver the halberd to the alliance, but he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Ben held out his hand and said, “I’m Ben.”

The boy let out a grin, and shook it, “Tyler, a pleasure to meet you.”

Tyler didn’t waste a second, pulling a map out of the pack on his back, and showing it to Ben, “Our first destination is here.”

Tyler pointed to a red X on the map, it was in between two of the Himalayas. Every adventurer knew the location, it was famous long before the fall of Uruk, for even Gods dared not traverse into the Valley of Gilgamesh.

Ben merely smiled back, feeling the blood pump through his veins for the first time since the Magimact created the Atrian Crater. Perhaps he should live just a little longer. Just for one more mission.

“Well,” said Ben. “What are you waiting for? We don’t have all day.”