Three days since the incident, Bollio sat at his desk, reading some documents. They were mostly about geology, and the new power he seemed to have gotten.

Maybe I can find a way to reverse it...

It wasn’t fair. He had spent his entire life dedicated to sciences, and real tangible things, not to undefinable magic. As Ezekiel had said though, hearing his constant grumblings, “It isn’t magic. It’s just a part of this world, in fact, you should recognize it for the scientifically stable ‘feature’ it is-” After that, Bollio hadn’t bothered paying attention. He presumed he kept ranting about how his world shouldn’t recognize magic as magic. Insanity.

So far, he had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had learned, however, that the northern continent used to be full of magic, until someone drained it, and the wonder from the stones there. It was known for its dull gray stone, that was everywhere. No strata, no colorings, nothing. At least he knew where it came from.

This power he possessed seemed dangerous, way too dangerous for one man to yield. And he had no idea why it had occurred, and whether he could prevent it from happening to anyone else.

Bollio heard a knock at the door. He set aside the document he was perusing and walked over.

Against all odds, Ezekiel had returned. And, standing behind him... were a few fetleens. As Ezekiel knocked once more, they produced weapons from their satchels.

Something about a rivalry...

Of course! He was a ground mage, and they were wind spirits. And they would be coming to kill him...

Bollio scrambled out of the room, returning with a broom stick to block the door, then remembering that the door opened to the inside, and that it was pointless.

“Hey! Open up you bitch!” shouted one of the fetleens.

Bollio pressed his back against the door, wondering what his life had come to.

***

Zeke had screwed up. Pretty bad.

“Uh, maybe he isn’t like home right now. Or maybe this is the wrong house, you never know,” he said, trying to diffuse the situation.

“No, this is the right one, I’m sure about it you little shit,” one of the fetleens said. He was tall, and now that he had noticed it, very muscled.

Zeke waited with them, nervous at what he had caused.

Stolen novel; please report.

How could I have been so foolish?

He was a foolish, stupid little sh-

That’s odd, I never curse, he thought. It must have been the fetleens, they seemed too a lot.

“Hey,” he asked one of the less intimidating members of the group, “why do you swear so much? It’s just strange, and I can’t figure it out.”

“Partially because we’re ruffians, we commit crimes n’ shit. Partially because whenever anyone mutters a curse on the wind, we always fucking hear it!” he growled.

Interesting...

Now was not the time, he had to focus on what was at hand.

In a sudden move, he snatched the club from the aforementioned fetleen’s hands, and smacked him over the head with it, instantly dropping it. He rounded out to meet the others.

They hadn’t noticed, they were too busy cursing at the door, and the attempts to knock it down drowned out the sound. There were about eight more in total.

He swung the club again, knocking two at once, and finally the others noticed. He grabbed a dagger from one of the fallen and stabbed at one of the others, who let out many vulgar utterances before finally falling.

At that moment, everything seemed to stop. He had just killed a man, whether fantasy, fake, RPG, whatever, he had killed. And the enemy didn’t simply puff into smoke or dust, he dropped, and there was no option to loot.

Again, he thought, now is not the time!

Seven left. There was no way he could take them all, but he could try. He owed it to Bollio, after leading them right to him.

He lunged again, and, taking a hefty hit to the ribcage, managed to stab another in the leg, which limped off, shrieking many a cuss to the sky, and the wind. Apparently, they weren’t too invested, and like clockwork, another pair ran off.

His side burned. He had never been hurt this bad in his life, except for the time he had crashed his bike back at the park.

Four left. It was just as easy as in the books. Really incredibly easy to kill these men.

As one backed into the corner, he stabbed it. One down. Another swung at him again and connected with his head.

It hurt way too much; he would surely have a concussion. He couldn’t think straight.

Before he knew it, it was over. Five dead bodies lay in front of him. And five little orbs – maybe experience points, maybe souls – floated toward him. A surge of power rushed through his veins.

***

Those eyes. Those eyes. The look Ezekiel had given him before vanishing into the fading light haunted him. Feral eyes. The eyes of a killer.

He must have been a criminal in his own world, and now he was here. A murderer roamed the streets of Centerland City.

Bollio had watched the entire thing, the unnatural grace of the boy, the cries of the fallen. And immediately after, he went to the guards, reporting the incident. Maybe since he had helped the boy, he wouldn’t harm him. Just in case, he locked all his doors, and moved his desk in front of his door that night and had boarded the window shut.

Maybe he had been given his powers for a reason. Maybe it was to stop this cold-blooded savage. But someone else could do that, certainly. He couldn’t afford to be caught up in all this. His life’s work would mean nothing, he would be known for being chosen by the gods, instead of his accomplishments. So, the next morning, he had purchased some paints and makeup, and began restoring his old self.