"He's dead for sure," Grimsby said. "Don't ya think?"

They didn't see many visitors at Castle Kastorus these days, and the ones they did see mostly ran at the first sign of danger. So when the vultures spotted a lone man trekking up the mountain and began to circle overhead, Grimsby and Sir Clonk went to the overlook to spectate. They'd tried searching for Ondine to see if she wanted to join the festivities, but had no luck. She was probably off wailing somewhere.

There was little entertainment to be found at the castle, and the past couple centuries had passed without much for either Grimsby or Sir Clonk to do. Any source of amusement had to be capitalized upon.

This was the most exciting thing to happen in almost two years, Grimsby thought to himself. He rubbed his skeletal hands together and cackled with glee. It was nearly as good as watching that trade caravan get chased by the local pack of dire wolves, and nothing had even happened yet.

Sir Clonk, a suit of armor with a soul but no body, turned towards Grimsby. The joints of his armor made a high-pitched whining noise with every movement. The sound was incredibly annoying, but Sir Clonk couldn't oil himself, Grimsby was too depressed to bother, and Ondine was a ghost. And their immortal master, the Lord of Castle Kastorus, had far more important things to do with his time.

"He shall live," Sir Clonk declared, his voice echoing within the hollow plate mail.

"Wanna bet?" Grimsby asked. "He survives, I'll do your chores for a month. He dies, you do all my chores for the month. And repair that damned hole in the conservatory ceiling."

"Gambling is a sin," Sir Clonk intoned.

There was a long pause as the two of them watched the man painstakingly trudge up the mountain. He was so far below them he was only a smudge of color. But he seemed to be wearing the plain grey robes of a novice mage. Even if he was stronger than he appeared, he was a fool for coming here alone. Everyone knew a magician was most effective with someone to watch their back and guard their front. A spellcaster who found themselves in melee combat would soon be dead. And this pass was filled with wolves, goblins, harpies, and other nasty creatures.

"I'll take your bet," Sir Clonk said. "All my chores? Even polishing Master's—"

"Yes," Grimsby said. "All." With every moment that passed, he was even more confident of his prediction. Their visitor was moving slower and slower. He must have been exhausted. It was a steep incline during the heat of a long, midsummer's day.

"He only has to live? Even if he does not make it up the mountain?"

"As long as he's still alive when he leaves our sight, I'll count it as your win."

"You must also oil my joints, then."

"Damned hells," Grimsby muttered. "All right."

"It is agreed, then. Do not try to cheat me, Grimsby."

With a high-pitched grinding noise, Sir Clonk held out a gauntlet. After a moment, Grimsby stuck out his hand of bones and shook on it.

"He's dead for sure," Grimsby repeated. "So, what changed your mind? Since gambling is a sin and all?"

"My boredom has outweighed my meager virtue," Sir Clonk said flatly, then leaned over the railing of the overlook. "And I'm really tired of polishing the Master's—"

"Yeah, yeah," Grimsby said, his jaw rattling as he chuckled. "Just watch the show."

As if to punctuate his statement, a distant howl sounded from somewhere down the mountain.

The pack was on the hunt.

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Gideon wiped the sweat from his brow and stopped by a dead tree to set down his pack and check his map. There was supposed to be a trail that led all the way to the gates of Castle Kastorus, supposedly, but the map was crudely drawn, with a poor sense of scale. Gideon was no longer sure if the fork in the road was still ahead of him, or if he had missed it.

Castle Kastorus loomed above, a great fortress of stone situated at the top of the nearby mountain. Gideon still couldn't believe his great luck that he'd inherited it. The letter had come last week from a law firm specializing in such things. He hadn't understood all the details, but he'd taken a week off work to see it for himself.

His boss had complained, of course, and threatened to dock his pay. But that was business as usual for a spellmonkey. Gideon was a dime a dozen, truth be told, considering he was only level four with a copper rank in earth magic and no other valuable skills.

But if he could sell the castle he'd be rich. He could finally go to a proper magic school like he'd dreamed, and his true life could begin. As long as he could remember, he'd always wanted to be a wizard. A properly trained one, not some level four mage who got paid six silver pieces a day to etch runes of hardness into gardening tools.

The dead tree barely gave any shade, which was unfortunate considering the heat. Digging through his pack, Gideon took out his water bottle. Only about a quarter of it was left, which he drank greedily. Gideon should have packed more water. The villagers who lived at the base of the mountain had warned him, but he still hadn't brought enough. Thankfully, there would be a well once he made it to the castle. Or at least, this is what he told himself.

After studying the map, he was pretty sure he was on the right path. The fork must still be ahead. He took a deep breath and continued, the muscles in his legs beginning to ache from the exertion.

He had made it only a little farther up the mountain when he heard a distant howling sound. The villagers had warned him about the wolves, too, but even as a copper rank, he was no slouch. He'd run into wolves a few times in his youth, back when he lived in the country, and they'd never caused him much trouble. A pebble or two was usually enough to discourage them.

At last, he saw a fork in the road ahead of him. To the right, it continued to lead deeper into the pass. But to the left, it turned and led to a series of switchbacks up the mountain.

"Finally," he muttered, squeezing his hand into a fist. He'd been worried there for a moment. Thankfully, things were all coming together.

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As soon as he'd thought this, however, he heard another howl. And another. They already sounded closer than before. He tried to turn to locate the source of the noise, but it seemed the howling echoed from the slopes of the mountains, and it was hard to find where it was coming from.

He picked up the pace, jogging towards the fork in the road now that he knew the path to his destination. As he approached, he saw a nearby metal signpost that had fallen to the ground. It was rusted, with text too weathered for him to read. According to the letter he'd received, this pass was once a popular trading route. But after the castle had become unoccupied, the road had become less popular with travelers. The letter had been vague on why, exactly, the castle lay empty. Gideon supposed he would soon find out.

As he turned, he looked up at the castle and thought he saw a glint of light from a balcony high on one of the castle towers. Like a reflection from a mirror, it flashed in his eyes, then was gone. He blinked, then continued his march forward.

Until he heard another howl from behind him, much closer, and turned to see four dire wolves converging on his position. The lead wolf was as big as a pony, far larger than any wolf Gideon had ever seen in his life.

Gideon cursed under his breath and started to run up the trail. He really should have listened to the villagers. But if he made it to the castle, he could hole up there.

No, he thought. As he looked at the series of switchbacks, he knew he would never make it in time. His body was already exhausted, and the wolves would outrun him easily.

He turned back to face them. The pack seemed to realize they could outrun him and did not seem in a hurry. The lead wolf was stalking him directly, while the others had fanned out, moving through the bush on either side of the trail.

If he could take out their leader, he hoped it would scare them. They were animals, after all, and were not without reason.

Gideon took a deep breath, centering himself and channeling his mana through his outstretched hand. He focused his mind on his target, then chanted, "Hail of Stone!"

A handful of sharp rocks materialized in the air and launched toward the wolf. At the sight of the stones, the wolf suddenly tried to swerve, but too late—they stuck true, and one jagged rock dug into the wolf's eye. The wolf whined in pain, turned, and ran. At the sight of this, the other wolves also began to back off, though more slowly.

Gideon took a deep breath again, and moved his outstretched hand towards the wolf closest to him. But before he spoke the incantation, it too broke into a run.

"A-ha," he said. "Take that." He hadn't used magic like that in a while, but it was good to know that his skills hadn't left him entirely. There was little use for a spell like [Hail of Stone] working as a spellmonkey in the big city, where the most dangerous things he encountered on a day-to-day basis were his boss, and his debt collector.

Feeling relieved that the threat had passed, he turned to make his way up the mountain.

Ahead of him, a giant black and red spider sat in the middle of the road with piercing eyes. Despite being an arachnid, it was larger than the wolves had been and was covered in strange geometric patterns. It chittered, its feet tapping as it advanced towards him.

He began to run, but he saw more spiders descending the sides of the mountain, both ahead and behind him. Soon, he would be completely surrounded.

Gideon cursed and stretched his hand back towards the first spider who was bearing down on him. "Hail of Stone!"

The spider dodged to one side in a flash. Though his rocks grazed one of the spider's legs, it did not seem perturbed by the strikes. It chittered again.

"Hail of Stone!"

Once again, the spider dodged. Gideon's head pounded. A blinking blue box, one he had not seen in quite some time, flashed in his vision.

[ Low Mana Warning ]

He pushed it out of his mind, squared his shoulders, and tried again. This time, only a single rock formed rather than the usual number of projectiles. It hit the spider in the abdomen, but the creature shrugged off the blow. These were far stronger opponents than the wolves had been. That much was for sure.

Gideon ran off the trail, to where he couldn't see any of the spiders, but he felt them closing in around him. Once again, he cursed himself. He should never have come here.

He should have stayed in the city, where he belonged.

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"Told you," Grimsby said.

"I thought I cleared that nest last month," Sir Clonk groaned. Though his voice was always flat and expressionless, Grimsby thought he detected a hint of annoyance in the fallen knight's demeanor.

"They return quickly. Or they laid eggs. Did you smash all the eggs? Really get back in there? All the nooks and crannies?"

Sir Clonk sighed, his metal shoulders heaving with great resignation. "Be right back," he said, then nimbly leaped over the overlook’s railing. The animated suit of armor plunged a hundred feet to the ground below, landing with a crash of metal. Sir Clonk then began to jog forward, grabbing a spear from a rack by the castle gate before heading down the mountain, sprinting down the trail towards where the spiders were slowly surrounding their visitor.

"Well, shit," Grimsby said. "I never specified he couldn't intervene, did I?" He sat on a nearby stone bench and rested his jawbone in his hand. Suddenly, he had lost interest in today's entertainment. "I guess this one is on me, isn't it?"

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Gideon had tried to run. He truly had. He thought he had almost made it until another spider somehow emerged from the bushes in front of him. They were everywhere. He had become wholly encircled.

He thought he had one more spell, another enfeebled pebble left within him. His only chance was to use it to stun one of the spiders, manage to get past them, then sprint back down the mountain.

It was a long shot, but he had no other options. He swerved, rushing towards one of the spiders between him and the trail leading back the way he had come. As he got closer, he stretched out his hand, took one last deep breath, and cast the spell.

The rock flew, this time scoring a direct hit on one of the spider's many eyes. The spider hissed and stumbled, and Gideon leaped as he reached it. He slammed down with one foot on its head, jumping over the rest of the arachnid’s body, then landing on its other side.

[ Critical Mana Warning ]

His head pounded in agony and pain, but he'd made it past one of them. With every bit of strength he had left, he sprinted back down the mountain.

He heard a thwip, then felt his ankle snag on something. He tripped and fell, skidding on his hands in the dust. The world spun in a daze. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his foot was coated in sticky webbing. The pack of spiders was still bearing down on him. He tried to crawl, straining against the web, his head feeling like it had split into two.

Gideon began to scream, a list of regrets flashing through his mind—all the things he had wished to do and never had. Get an education. Tell his friends how he feels. Tell his boss to go to hell.

One of the spiders had reached him. Gideon tried to kick with his free leg, but the spider dodged his heel and bit him in the calf. He cried in pain as he felt the venom enter his body.

His vision blurred so when a spear impaled the spider, Gideon thought he must be imagining things. Even more so when he saw someone in a full suit of plate mail, helm and all, held the spear.

He had been saved by a brave knight. Gideon blinked in disbelief. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

Then the knight kicked the spider so hard it lost its footing and was launched down the side of the mountain. The knight turned to another nearby spider, thrusting with the spear, stabbing the arachnid in one of its eyes. The knight moved so naturally and gracefully, it was like their armor was a second skin.

"Ha ha ha!" the knight shouted. "Be purged, vile fiends!"

As if sensing they were now outmatched, the spiders chittered and began to flee in various directions, some of them running down the mountain while others disappeared into small holes in the mountainside that must have led to caves. Gideon hadn't noticed the passages earlier. If he had, he would have been more careful. He had truly been a fool, and owed his life to his valiant and noble rescuer.

"Thank you, brave knight," Gideon said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the venom coursing through his leg. "I'm in your debt."

"Nay, I am in yours," the knight replied. "A glorious victory." And then, strangely, he stabbed his spear into the dirt and began to dance, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other and pumping his fists in the air. He turned towards the castle above them and shouted, "Get polishing, Grimsby, you sucker! Ha ha!"

Gideon stared at him in utter confusion, his mouth hanging open as his vision darkened. "Wait, what?" he asked, then passed out.

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