Horn woke up in a small room. Familiar white marble walls surrounded him. The stone looked precisely like the one on the challenge tower. Inside was empty, save several glowing roof tiles that provided the lighting. However, he wasn’t alone. Around him stood his three champions. They were frozen in place, more resembling statues than living dwarves. They looked like they had looked before the challenge. The looks he was familiar with. He took a moment to observe them, yet they seemed different despite the same clothes and faces.

Ingrid, the snarky boar breeder, reminded him of his crazy aunt. The one that each family had, the one everyone avoided. But behind all that bravado, she almost let herself be killed over her animals. She stood there in that barn - resigned, with this deep sadness in her eyes, waiting for the end. Horn wondered, just one thing. Did she go there on her own? Or did they just found her there?

Like an answer to his question, the wall behind her changed. It showed the residence he had seen, but it wasn’t on fire this time. It was almost peaceful, if not for two shadows that lurked in the darkness. He saw the assassins get peaceful dwarfs one by one. The view followed them in their grim task, cutting throats and stabbing in the back. They kept quiet, but Horn could tell that they were enjoying the murder.

He followed them as they set fire to the inn, the same building he woke in. He followed them as they did with the mansion, previously barricading the exits with specially crafter telescope iron rods. He followed them as they finally entered the barn, just moments earlier shooting a crossbow bolt through one of the mansion’s windows.

The view changed to the said room. The bolt still vibrating struck the far wall. Ingrid was inside with several heavily armored guards. One of them reached for the bolt, retrieving a scroll attached to it. He handed her the message. She took a look at it and cursed profoundly. A moment later, she just ordered, “Leave, help any survivors, and head to Iron Hold. The King has to know about this.”

“But Lady! We cannot leave you. There’re enemies around!” One of the bodyguards tried to argue,

She just shook her head and, with a warm smile, replied, “Zigfrid, don’t argue on this. We both know I’ve made my choice, go and live. Hug Martid for me.”

“Bu-!” He began, but a short wave of her hand cut him off. Hanging his head, he turned to the remaining guards, “You heard the lady, move out!”

Ingrid waited until they left before taking the other door. Horn’s view followed her, but stopped for a moment at a table with the scroll, it said,

If you want to see your boars alive, come alone to the barn. You have five minutes. B.

It was even more straightforward than what he expected, but Horn already knew what’d happen. However, the vision didn’t end there. The scene changed to Ingrid, in a small treasury, picking up her favorite pitchfork. It was in a display case, a plaque said, Oathkeeper. She caressed the weapon for a moment before picking it up. Then she cut her palm with one of the teeth, a flare of runes erupted throughout the weapon. One second it looked like a normal pitchfork. The next second it looked like something taken out of heroic stories. A trident, made out of silver metal, with three teeth and runes spread through its whole length.

“So it finally happened, Grandma. You’ve won, or did you? In the end, it’s all your fault.” Ingrid said, a single tear running over her cheek. Caressing the weapon for a few more moments, she left the room and went into the barn. Horn just saw himself running towards the barn a few moments later, then the white landscape returned.

The scene began to dissipate, losing sharpness and color. Then it reappeared, showing him and Ingrid fighting rats at the beginning of the tutorial, then her managing craftsmen, then her defending against goblin ambush. Finally, the flashback of the tutorial ended, and the view disappeared.

However, Ingrid began to move and change from the familiar figure of a grumpy lady. She rose a few inches. Her clothing changed into chainmail and armored pants. Her hair extended and braided itself. Her straw hat turned into a winged helmet, and the silvery trident appeared in her hands. A name over her head changed. It now said, Ingrid Sharptong – Valkyrie 10/1.

A second later, her figure changed again, the familiar clothing returned, but figures of a dozen boars and other beasts appeared around, the name changed yet again, Ingrid Sharptong – Warbeast Master 10/1

Then it morphed again. This time, her hair was gathered into a single bun. She was dressed in a fancy tunic and held a tablet with parchment spread over it. The name showed Ingrid Sharptong – Administrator 10/1

Then it began morphing again, trying to settle into several forms, but finally reverted to the first one. The notification popped in Horn’s vision,

You have saved Ingrid and her animals from her fate. You’ve proven courage, as did she, attacking her killer without fear.

Not once she rode into a battle at your side. You’ve saved her animals, as did she, risking her life for them. When she traveled with you, she managed your craftsmen. Together you won the secret crafting challenge.

With your help, she unlocked three advanced classes. You can choose which way she should follow. You can make that choice until the end of the next challenge.

Ingrid froze again, reverting to her original state. Horn tried talking to her, even prodded her, but she didn’t react. Thoughtful, he turned towards Goran. Again as he focused on his champion, the background started changing. It started just outside an opulent tent set up amid a massive dwarven army. Goran, in full plate armor, eagerly walked into the tent. Inside, a dozen old dwarves were leaning over a very detailed map. Every one of them was heavily armored, but one stood out. He wore golden inscribed armor. A long white beard was braided with golden rings keeping it together. His old face told a story of experience and command. His sharp eyes didn’t allow any doubt. As Goran entered, he dropped to one knee, bowing his head, “My King, my Generals. How can I serve you?”

“Raise, Captain Steelriver. We have a special assignment for you.” The King said, waving him closer.

“At your order. I and my battalion are ready for orders.”

“No, you didn’t understand. We’ll need your battalion, and General Irontooth will take charge of it. You will report to eastern passage. Scouts didn’t spot the green filth there yet, but we believe it’s only a matter of time.”

“But, bu-t, my King!” Goran argued,

“SILENCE! You’ve got your orders. Act like a man.”

The view flashed forward. Goran walked towards the pass where Horn met him. He cursed his life. He cursed his King, taking the privilege of the last battle from him. He arrived at the primitive wall and cursed once again, at miniature force and pitiful position. However, as soon as his warriors entered the earshot, he changed. Gone was the youthful warrior. Instead, a seasoned commander appeared. He quickly spat orders, and the group began working.

Then as Horn appeared in the distance, Goran changed. It was like an electric current went through him. He looked around like he had seen the scene for the first time. A tear appeared in his eyes as he saw his warriors. Horn was sure that it was his ‘new’ Goran entering the scene. Previously he saw a replay of his history. How could one go from such an arrogant prick into the Goran he knew?

He kept watching. He saw their quick conversation, saw the tears appearing again on Goran’s face. He saw himself walking away. However, the view continued following Goran. He saw the dwarf addressing his men, “Down there, our army fights to hold the greenskins from our evacuating kin. However, the real battle will happen up here. We might not live to see tomorrow, and probably we won’t. I won’t pursue anyone wanting to join the refugees. You might have a chance then. But you have to ask yourself a question. Is your life worth even a single life of a civilian? I know that mine isn’t. Believe me, I saw what orcs could do with an unarmed woman or a child. I will lay my life to protect them, this time, next time, any time needed. Will you?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

They looked at each other, surprised at the speech. But then they started nodding. They didn’t cheer, but Horn could see the determination painted on their faces. He kept watching as the first enemies approached. Goran took a position in the front. He was using his skill often, focusing orc wrath on himself, rallying his soldiers when they seemed to be overwhelmed, being everywhere where he was needed. However, it wasn’t enough. There were just too many enemies around. He saw as they just kept pushing, and the dwarves began taking away ground. In the beginning, they fought several steps outside the walls, but an hour into the fight, they were in the gap. The screening was running faster than normal time, but it still took a while. Horn kept watching, seeing Goran keeping the dwarves in line. Then his part started, with a crushing rumble, what looked like half a mountain dropped down. Everyone on the battlefield seemed paralyzed as they watched the force of nature annihilating greenskins’ forces.

Goran erupted in a burst of maniacal laughter that woke his comrades from stupor. They threw themselves at the remaining orcs. In a matter of minutes, no greenskin was left alive, and during all of that, Goran just stood there and laughed. His warriors began cheering, but he didn’t seem to notice that. The laughter just continued until it started to change into tears. The warrior started crying. Horn could hear him muttering, “He did it, I’ve trained my whole life and lost, and he did it. All those dead because I wasn’t enough. The gods are cruel. Why did I live when they didn’t?”

The scene began to fade away, the sight of Goran on his knees burned into Horn’s mind. He didn’t even notice as the Goran in front of him began to morph.

First, he became the warrior he saw at King’s tent. His head was raised high, clad in full shiny plate armor with a twohanded axe, and an aura of confidence radiated from his figure. His face looked healed, his milked eye was again working, but something was missing in that eyes. Horn tried to focus on that, but it just escaped him. Shrugging, he checked the nameplate, which said, Goran Steelriver – Champion 10/1

As soon as he saw it, the figure began morphing. The armor was gone, replaced by leather clothing. The axe was gone. Instead, he held a wooden mallet. His scars were back, and even a few more seemed to be added. A warm smile spread on his face, and his posture seemed to indicate he was looking at something. The nameplate switched to Goran Steelriver – Guard Instructor 10/1

After seeing that, a notification popped up,

You saved Goran in his last battle. You’ve proven wits, finding a solution to the impossible fight. Goran stood the line, finding the strength to try again at his greatest failure.

You’ve delved together into a dungeon, where he sacrificed himself to protect others. You’ve fought in the arena where you beat your competition without mercy. Goran trained over three-quarters of your clan in combat arts, which led to multiple victories.

With your help, he unlocked two advanced classes. You can choose which way he should follow. You can make this choice until the end of the next challenge.

The choices were interesting, but Horn was almost sure which one Goran would prefer. But there still was his third and the most unexpected champion ahead. He focused on Sigrid, and the landscape changed again.

Horn recognized the familiar bedroom where he appeared in the scene. He saw Sigrid entering the room, hooded and silent, with a dagger in hand. Her victim was sitting in an armchair facing the window, with a glass of what looked like a brandy. As Sigrid took a step toward him, the dwarf said, “Good evening, Sparrow, the first of Hounds. What an honor!”

Despite being addressed, Sigrid didn’t falter. She just replied, “Drakehide, or rather should I call you Elder Granite?”

The dwarf took a sip and replied, “Bravo, so you found out. I’ve always admired your productivity. So, what now? Will you kill me?”

“Yes, then I’ll kill the rest of the elders.”

“But why? You must know you won’t get away with that.”

“Do you think I care anymore? After learning what you had me do? What your precious council has done to all of us?”

The dwarf burst laughing, “Oh, that’s rich! An assassin is talking about morality. Did you cry after killing that Stoneaxe Noble? Or maybe you left a sorry note after slaughtering the whole family of that gemstone trader?”

She took two steps and pulled the armchair around, “I thought I’ve done that for the good of the Kingdom! Not some petty revenge and not for bloody money! Brotherhood lied to me!”

Raising an eyebrow, Drakehide said, “Oh really? For the good of the Kingdom? Killing merchants? Are you that naïve? Tell me, do you know why we are calling our top operatives’ hounds’?”

“Because we’re always catching our prey, no matter how long it takes.”

“Oh, not at all. That’s what we tell you. We’re calling you hounds, as that’s exactly what you are. Dogs at our command. Nothing more, nothing less.” The dwarf replied.

Sigrid just plummeted her dagger into his chest and took a step back. The dwarf jumped out of the armchair, groaning in pain. Blood poured out of the corners of his lips. Taking a step, he wavered and dropped on the bed. A faint whisper escaped his lips, “Good luck, you’ll ne-“

The scene turned into what he walked into. Sigrid, with a bloodied dagger, was standing over a corpse lying on the bed. Then it sped up, following them and their failed escape until it changed the view to the dwarf that ambushed them.

Goldvein talked with another one in the alley next to where Horn and Sigrid made their last stand.

“- really don’t care. He was an old fool, but the example has to be made. Take her alive. Butcher is already waiting for her. We want her to suffer before presenting her to the Brotherhood. Elders will decide her fate. Is this clear?”

“Yes, Hound.”

“Good dismissed!”

The view panned out. Horn saw their short fight and their last moments. Then the view dissipated. Sigrid’s figure began morphing, turning into exactly how he saw her moments ago. Black leather armor, a dozen blade hilts placed in strategic and easy-to-access sheaths. A small crossbow on her hip completed her arsenal, and the hood pulled over her face. The nameplate said, Sigrid Longhood – Assassin 10/1

He waited some time for it to change, but instead, the notification came,

You failed to save Sigrid in her last act. However, you’ve proven an open mind and trust. Sigrid started her revenge, never to finish it. You failed in the encounter with the Brotherhood, but you gave your champion her wish – an easy death.

You’ve solved the puzzles together, and you reinforced her importance to you and the clan. She repaid in kind, helping you win the arena challenge, which you again rewarded by granting her an Ascension Stone.

With your help, she unlocked a single advanced class. You can choose if she should follow it. You can make this choice until the end of the next challenge.

As Horn blinked, the text disappeared, and the figures reverted to their original shapes. His champions stood frozen around him. His head was buzzing with information. He muttered, “That’s awesome-bad-crazy shit!”

“Yes, it is,” A woman’s voice agreed from behind him.

Horn jumped, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. He turned, seeing a familiar face. The woman in front of him was a middle-aged human. After being so long in the company of dwarves, seeing someone a foot taller than himself was a surprise on its own. Her face looked tired, with slight wrinkles and bags under her eyes. However, there was this intriguing energy in them. He would swear he saw a twinkle flashing. She was clothed in battle armor, not one of fantasy nerd dreams, which seemed always to contain a chainmail bikini, but a full suite of perfectly fitted plate armor. It seemed even better made than what the dwarven King in his vision had. A hilt of the two-handed sword poked over her right shoulder. Despite having to wear at least sixty or seventy kilos of metal, the woman seemed not to be bothered by it at all. Taking all of this in, he said, “Miss Tyche, what an honor. I’m the biggest fan of your games, and this – this is just amazing!”

“Call me Adrianna. I prefer this name. Tyche sounds just presumptuous. I’m glad you like it. Not too many made it so far.”

“I love it! This is just; I really cannot describe it. If the rest of the game is at least as good…” Horn praised without overstating anything.

“That’s wonderful. The world of Nexus is a beautiful one. So, are you ready for your final challenge?”

“Hell yeah! But why did you visit me?”

“I like keeping an eye for skillful people, and so far, you’re one of fifty that made it this far.”

“Mess wit…” Horn began his catchphrase but stopped himself and instead quickly asked, “Are you playing too? Or is that just an admin character?”

“Oh, this is just me. I’m traveling the world, sightseeing. Yes, that’s a good word for that. Just wanted to say hello,” She answered with a warm smile.

“Well – “Horn was a bit lost to how to answer, “That’s wonderful, thank you for dropping by.”

“See you soon. Your break will begin in just a few hours, and good luck with the final challenge. Just remember, you cannot always be everywhere. Trust your friends. They’ll pull through.” She said, and with the last word, the scene disappeared.

One second, Horn was talking with the CEO of Gaia gaming. The other, he was in the middle of some foreign courtyard with a battle raging just a few dozen yards from him.