"One."

Ping. The air in front of the Bob shimmered. The three men started to back away, eyes wide and afraid. The strong man was whimpering now, muttering over and over, "I told you, I told you, I told you." Another swiveled this way and that, hunting for some path out of the battlefield. The third just gazed up into the rain and waited for death. They would know the mud magician.

All around them, the battle for the oak grove raged on. George was leading his army from the front. A golden knight barking encouragement to his troops, pointing them to their positions, ranging up and down the ranks. A fearless leader, who'd hop beyond the line of safety and bury an enemy champion in an explosion of red fire.

The beetles were winning, grinding away at their disunited foe. George yelped out his shout of imminent victory. The enemy was wavering. Death and bloodletting had sobered the combatants. Some monsters started to flee. The phalanx spilled forward, fanning around the oak grove in a great encircling maneuver. The net was drawing closed.

> Quest Complete - Sky's the Limit

>

>

> Reward - Quest: Brave and Stupid

>

> Optional Reward - Jonny the Man - the Kiwi Warriors

Bob stretched out his hand and a book fell into it. My precious. The book's cover pictured a ripped man sitting shirtless in meditation as an old, bearded sage whacked him on the back with a wooden rod. Across the front in big, blocky letters was written: Jonny the Man: The Kiwi Warriors. Bob sighed. He'd done it. He'd actually done it. That quest had looked a lot easier on paper.

"Wait." The strong man stopped mewling and squinted at the title. What was his name again? Something stupid that ended with -ad. Fad, maybe? No. Drad? Wrong. Crad? Crad, that was it. Bob had an amazing memory.

"I know that book," Crad called out to his companions, "isn't that Jonny the Man?"

Hats off to Crad. He must have recognized the cover design. More power to Jonny the Man. A masterpiece could be respected and admired even by the enemy. Some books are just universal.

"What?" Another answered, continuing to back away.

"You know, Jonny the Man, that litrpg novel with the over-powered MC?"

"You're describing every litrpg novel."

"What's wrong with you two?"

"Can't you read. Read the title."

"Jonny, the, Man. Rad, he's right."

"Idiots. It's a trap. A trap. What mad man..." Rad was struggling to find the right words, "what numskull would bother counting down in the middle of a life-or-death fight, just to, just to, just to get his hands on some pulp rubbish. Boys, we've got to run."

"Rad, I know. I get it. It seems ridiculous. But I know that cover art. It's Jonny the Man."

While the three of them debated the literary merits of Jonny the Man and the sanity of Robert Brown, Bob groped around on the ground. He knew he'd dropped it here somewhere. There it was. He picked up a health patch lying nearby and slapped it on his chest. Aha, that was the good stuff. He was a user alright. His breathing got easier. The pain numbed. He grinned to himself.

Time to show these clowns who's boss. Because Bob had been holding back. Holding way back. That ridiculous quest expired as soon as he reached level 10. And he was sitting on the cusp. He couldn't risk accidentally killing one of them, could he now. Do you know how hard it is to fight without ever seriously attacking? Not to mention, keeping track of the bloody count. Thank god Bob was so intelligent. But now things were different. No reason to hold back anymore.

"We should attack."

"Are you on something? We need to get out of here."

"Look he's injured. The spell... well I don't know, but we're all fine. Now's our chance."

"Guys, something smells off."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Two words. Two words. A flash of brown. And one of them was crumbled on the ground. Blood gushing out of his throat. "Mud dart." Their leader flinched. He hadn't even seen the attack. All the same he bent down to help his friend, putting a hand on the wounded man's neck. The hand pulsed green.

Bob smiled as he rose to his feet. He wiped the blood off his face, but it just smeared and darkened across his cheek. Death rising from sleep. The other man glanced over at Bob. His face paled. He tried to croak out a warning, but he couldn't manage it and just turned tail and sprinted away. He was using some kind of boosting power. Every step lunged him forward. He was eating up the ground, hurtling into the distance. Maybe he'd escape. Maybe he'd push his way through and make it on the plains. Bob smiled. "Mudfall."

The man disappeared. He fell into the darkness and then the darkness fell into him. Bob could feel the man struggling. He was panicking, flailing. He was weak and desperate. He didn't know which way was up or out. He opened his mouth to scream and mud flowed in. He was choking. He was coughing. And then his form started to shrink. The buffed-up muscles deflated and withered. He still tried to paddle out, but the movements were feeble, trembling half-strokes that barely propelled him. He would drown down there. Bob didn't even have to watch. It was already over. What a horrible, horrible way to die.

Their leader was still forcing green energy into the crumbled man. It was too late. It was far too late. For the injured man, for his friend in the mud, for the leader kneeling there. Don't you know death when you see it? The man looked up and saw Bob standing over him. The dark cloak, the white dagger, the aura of despair. He fell backwards into the mud, scrambling on hands and feet. He reached for his screwdriver, but Bob kicked it away. Too slow. They'd all been slow and weak. He was the mud magician. And they, they were nothing.

"You were playing with us." The man spat out. "You could've slaughtered us whenever you wanted. You, you, monster."

Bob's lips twitched up. It's so funny that the man should choose that word. That word seemed to follow Bob around. Yes, maybe he was a monster. This was cold-blooded murder, wasn't it? He'd already killed two of them. And here was one more, entirely at his power.

"Which of us is the monster I wonder," Bob mused aloud. "Him?" Bob nodded to Arthur, lying there dead with a hole in his skull. "Me?" Bob smiled and crouched down in front of the man. "You? Tell me, what makes a monster?"

Rad's eyes glanced away, somewhere back and towards the oak grove. Bob followed the line of his gaze and there was the woman, still tied up and gagged, her eyes open; she'd been watching this whole time. Bob nodded.

"Maybe we're all monsters at heart."

"Look. It wasn't me. I couldn't stop them. I didn't have any choice."

"Yes, that's what you told me before. Remember. When I had to buy my life."

"It's not like that."

"You probably feel sorry for yourself. And I guess you should. Why'd you have to meet me? Why didn’t you take the chance to kill me when I was weak? Things had been going so well. Blah, blah, blah."

Tears were streaming out the man's eyes. His body shuddered with repressed sobs.

"You know, when I think about it. You're just an ordinary man. Better than some. Worse than others. No demon. No great, evil power. Only the scum of the earth. And I bet you did pretty well for yourself in the before. What were you? A doctor? An upstanding, respectable citizen of the world. I applaud you."

Bob leaned closer, their faces almost touching.

"Strength is a terrible thing, don't you think? The more I think about it, the more I realize that civilization depends on some kind of universal weakness. On there being something greater than ourselves. A god or a king or a government. Now they're all gone. Pouf. In one moment, the system swept everything away. And now we, you and I, are the powers of the world. And among us powers, the only justice is strength."

"Save me," the man blubbered out, bringing his hands up to hide his face.

Bob stood up. He brushed off his cloak. He turned his back on the man. He started to walk towards the grove. The man peeked out between his fingers. His eyes widened. His hands fell down. He swallowed. He gasped. He thanked the heavens.

"No."

Thud. The pain hit him before he could process the word. Something warm and dark was spilling out of his neck. He was losing himself. He tried to drag his hand over the wound, to stop himself spilling out onto the ground and wasting away. He didn't have the strength. A black mist swirled down over him. He was fading. The pain had disappeared. The emptiness was growing. The emptiness was worse, far worse than the pain. And then he was nothing.

Bob steeled his jaw. He took one step after another. He had to help the woman. His stomach roiled. His heart screamed. It had been easier in the initiation. A touch, a pop and Sally had just disappeared. Disappeared, like she'd never been there at all. He hadn't had to stare down at her corpse. He hadn't had to feel her blood seep out into the mud. He hadn't had to hear that death rattle, the frantic breathing diminishing into silence. Somehow he'd been able to pretend to himself that he hadn't done it. That it was the system. That he was innocent. She was gazing at him. The woman. Was she afraid? He had wanted to save her. But maybe she was afraid of him now. Maybe she'd shrink back when he stretched out his hand. Maybe she should.

Ping. So he'd died had he? That man. That doctor. A doctor? Just like Bob's friend. Just like Nate. And maybe they knew each other. Dead. Dead at last. It had seemed to take forever. And yet Bob had only made it five steps. Five steps stretched out across eternity. They were all dead. All three of them. Bob had done it. He'd had to do it. And he had. He'd done it. He didn't regret it. And yet he regretted the world that made him do it. He sighed. He wanted... But he didn't know.

This was victory wasn't it? And victory is never as sweet as we imagine it. George had beaten back the monsters. The beetles had shown their mettle. The enemy was dead or fleeing. That notification was level ten knocking on the door. He'd done it. The girl was free. He'd saved her. It was over. It was the end. Happily ever after. And yet... Bob bit his lip.

Happiness is something you only read about in stories.