There's something about life, something deeply troubling. You can only do so many things at once without starting to leave pieces of you behind and, consequently, failing at what you do.

Claudia's life is at stake.

But so is my soul.

This is the price to pay for a life of inactivity, I inhale as I step forward, approaching the man sitting under the statue.

"Stanimal," I say, smiling. "What's up?"

The old man looks up, giving me a warm smile.

"Joey Luciani."

"That's the name," I wink and sit on the ground.

"I have heard of your duel," Stan says, "what you did is remarkable—no matter how it ended."

"It took a lot out of me," I shrug. "What about you and the others? How's business here?"

Stan looks down at the mostly empty piece of cloth where he gathers coins and shrugs, "as good as it gets."

Is it, you old goat? Dammit.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep down the anger I can feel mounting in my veins.

"How's Arminius? Is he still here?"

Stan's face darkens as I say the guy’s name who gave me away to the Military Duel.

"Are you still intentioned to let that weasel make a fool out of you, Joey Luciani?"

"A fool?" I say, my voice slowly getting an edge. "What fool? I smacked Appius like a goddamn pinball, Stan. I could have refused. Clodia's mother, the big, bad [Merchant], Aureamanus, told me what a Military Duel was before I’d accepted."

Stan looks surprised at my words. Not that his surprised expression is more than a pair of raised eyebrows and a slightly open mouth, though. This old man is the most stoic creature I've ever met.

I suddenly hear the wolf, Grigio, growling at me.

I turn my face to the Godzilla-sized dog and show him my teeth.

"If you want to try me, puppy, I'll put your head in the ground like a goddamn ostrich," my words inadvertently come out with my aura, and the massive beast actually whimpers in response and moves behind Stan.

"Anyway," I say, ignoring what just happened, "I had to accept the duel. I needed to face all the shit I'd been running from. People will die if I don't do what I need to do."

The old man looks at his scared dog behind him and then at me before speaking, "Joey Luciani, let's stand up, please."

Huh?

I follow him, and we both stand up. As Stan straightens up, I am reminded of the great height difference between us. The man often hunches, but now, he's standing as straight as an arrow, and that's gotta be at least 2 feet above me.

"Walk with me," he says and steps forward.

...

"Responsibility, leadership, command: you can find myriads of men craving them," Stan says as we walk, "but how many men can wield all three without giving in to their tyrannical instincts?"

"Power has always been tempting. For anyone," I say, not entirely clear where he's going with this.

"Accepting the duel was foolish, but great deeds are often foolish in their beginnings."

Stan looks at some people walking on the other side of the gravel road in the Pratus and giving us the side-eye. "Do you know what you'll be now?"

"A [Baker], one day. An [Archmage]. Maybe a [Warrior], too. All of it together, perhaps. Something like a [Cookie Magical Sword] class. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Joey Luciani," Stan's voice is serious, completely lacking mirth. "I'm not joking."

"Why do you think I am? I'll be opening a business soon. In the meanwhile, I'll keep using all my Mana to practice and find a solution for [Rottenbone]—Antoninus's mother has got it, by the way. Then, there's the exploration of the Dungeon. Considering the new class and skills I've got, I might do that as a hobby. If you ever want to write my biography, how does 'Hobby Adventurer' sound?"

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Stan sighs and bends slightly to scratch Grigio behind his ears.

"What about the price you'll have to pay for it? Are you scared at all? Do you know how many people will rely on you?"

I feel a bout of anxiety hit me together with his words, but I steady myself and nod back.

"Everything has a price. But I've incurred enough debt that I either start paying it off now, or I'll barely manage to pay the interest for the rest of my life."

Stan looks at me with a smirk.

"Wise words for such a young man."

We walk in silence for a small stretch before I can feel his gaze on me again.

"You know why I came here, right?" I ask.

"I fear so," Stan says, a grimace making its way to his face.

"So, I've already told you I'm going for my own business. I want to convince Happy Bakery and the Three Roses to merge. I'll get some liquidity from Marcella. I already have an idea of who will fill what position. I'm fully covered except for one job."

"Joey Luciani..."

"Stanimal, please," I say with a wince. "You are an essential piece. I need you. We can even build a little wooden house for that thing you call a dog. Or maybe get you a cat; much better."

Grigio growls at me again, but this time, I let him be as Stan assumes a weary expression and sighs deeply.

"Joey," Stan speaks slowly, "wanting to help and not being able to are different things. My life... it's complicated."

"I can help," I stress the words and look at the old man shaking his head.

"You might, but you already have enough on your plate. I have done things, Joey Luciani—things I am not proud of. The person I was... I cannot be allowed to be that person anymore. The cost, the price for it, is too high. I need to rest, to stay still. I can't move from my position, or I'll... become the person I used to be."

I look at the old man and feel some real pain and sadness emanating from him.

"Stan," I say, tentatively putting a hand on his very tall shoulder, almost having to stretch on my tiptoes to reach him, "we have all fucked up. I believe you. I believe you a hundred percent. What I'll tell you is that if you want to try, if you feel like you want to give a shot to... being a different person than the one you used to be, my door is open to you. Now, though... I gotta go. Stay well. I'll come visit again soon."

...

I look at the one artifact that started all this, the thing that made me who I am now, the container of the meanest motherfuc—

ZAP!

"Jesus," I shake down the current that coursed through my body. "Now that my pain resistance is so much higher, it's almost worse."

Magister Mulligan materializes in my room, next to the Omnium Compendium.

"Your foolishness has not been erased completely, young Luciani."

"Maybe I should drop a mixtape to see if it helps then," I deadpan before Magister Mulligan raises a finger, and several sparks of electricity come out of it. "I might not have a fully physical body anymore, but I can definitely supplement my creation's potential."

"Alright, alright! Jesus!" I raise my hands defensively. "Listen, let's just get to work. I had a few questions before I resume studying magic. Nothing crazy. Just pure curiosity. I know you are definitely up to some more shenanigans, but I wanted to know whether there's any set of Cantrips that will help with Claudia's situation or whether I should start thinking about it myself."

"Oh," Magister Mulligan strokes his beard pensively.

"What?"

"I don't know," the old man says with a straight face.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I frown.

"That I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"But you must know!" I shout, exasperated.

"I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"Peachy."

...

"Say it again," I say while I massage my temples with my fingers.

"I have no idea what's on the second set of Cantrips. Nor any others, for what it’s worth."

I look at the old man and genuinely wish I could light his beard on fire.

"Please, do explain to me how the Cantrips you engineered are a mystery to you. Did you lose your memory?"

"No. I formulated the Omnium Compendium after extensive research and... borrowing from other cultures. Including the Dragons."

"Ok, and?"

"Your mind cannot comprehend the complexity of creating a relic like the Omnium Compendium, young Luciani. The Cantrips were part of an ancient ritual and incantation that was plundered—well, borrowed, from the Dragons. But among its requirements, it said that one would have to “possess only a few levels and have little knowledge of magic, or be willing to give it up. I thought it would be a nice addition to the training I envisioned for my students."

"So, you stole from—"

"Borrowed."

"You borrowed magic that not even you know what it does?!" I am on the verge of tearing my hair out.

"I knew the ancient Dragons used it to train their [Mages]," the old man looks affronted. "And if disgusting thieves like them could, then my descendants would have been more than suited for them!"

I feel like I’m about to get an aneurysm in my head. Then, I realize something.

"Wait, if you don't know what the second set is... does that mean that none of your disciples actually passed the first set?"

"The book would usually give around three days to complete the first set and stagger their training. Your result is... unusual. No one ever qualified for all of them. The highest I saw was a very promising descendant of mine qualified for eight sets."

"So we don't know if there's anything that—wait. You didn't answer the question."

"What question?" Magister Mulligan acts innocent.

"Goddammit... everyone died? Everyone? What the—So I might actually die from this? And this isn't a bluff like with the puppet, is it?"

"The book is not programmed to lie. But considering the very unorthodox solutions you gave to the first set, you might survive."

"Oh, my, might. What a nice stupid word, old man. So, the first set is common knowledge, and everyone uses it. The second is... unknown to everyone?"

"Yes," Magister Mulligan confirms.

"Whatever... I have a lot of shit to do today. Let's start this crazy magical training again."