Our short lives are composed of countless moments that seem insignificant when compared to the greater whole. Then, comes a day, a test, a trial, a singular instance that defines the future after it forever more. It is then that we must find our courage and strength.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.

The invitation to the dance had been extended, and now it was time to take the floor.

An Improved Entropic Aura seethed from me, a hungry grey tide that washed over everyone in the room. The first wave brushed against them, then the second, and the third. Only by the fourth did they register that something was very wrong, as the raw truth of the universe began to eat away at them.

The pathetic creatures exchanged fearful glances, daunted by my majesty. The belligerent mountain of flesh finally drew his weapon, a great wooden club banded with iron, and the twin women started to reach for something behind the divan.

Iron that could burn.

But first, Greater Drain demanded release. It was a shame that my build required a bit of setup time before truly shining. The voices came to my aid, those steadfast allies who had advised and supported me through my darkest hours. Together, we quickly formed the spell construct, a dark paradox of impossibility.

From the Rogue, knives flew my way, a trio of swift metal birds propelled by wings of desperate futility. There were thunks of impact as my Mimic formed a circle of wood and metal, blocking them.

Great serpents of dark void night shot out from my free hand, snaking their way to everyone in the room, wrapping around their very existence. The nectar of the gods. There was a pulse, a beat of a heart, and delectable life energy flowed into me, feeding a long-repressed hunger.

A hunger that demanded more.

Enervated by the stolen energy, I felt as if I had become a god. This was raw might. This was raw power.

I saw Deschanel, the Rogue with the crippled build, reach for a sconce on the wall. Stop him, the voices advised.

Activating Improved Rush Strike, I launched myself at the leader of the Bulls, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye. Having yet to draw my weapon, or even seeing the need to for that matter, I settled for a kick to his shins.

I expected to trip him at best, so the snapping of bone was a welcome surprise as a shard of white and pink poked out. He fell to the floor with a musical scream, dropping the knife he held and lifting my spirits even further.

There was an impact against my back, a flare of heat that I barely felt. Thank you, Improved Pain Nullification my constant and true companion.

I pivoted around to see that the twins had grabbed staves and had their eyes closed as they chanted. Across the room, Randal, my fated one, wielded an elemental sword of fire in one hand and a small ball of fire in another.

A burning ball which he threw at me, screaming out the name of the spell, even as the giant man with the club rushed at me, swinging his great weapon.

Thinking to step out of the way of these two attacks, I started to move just as the twins finished chanting. Magical thorny vines grasped at my legs and arms, trapping me and stopping me.

It was a perfect example of well-timed teamwork and would have worked against anyone else. Such a shame that despite their efforts they simply could not gulf the raw level of power difference between us.

The giant’s weapon descended on a course to my head. Annoyed, I activated Improved Shield Bash, empowering my Mimic to protect against his strike. The oversized weapon met an equally ridiculously sized form of protection as Improved Shield Bash intercepted it. My Mimic had formed with record speed a copy of Gersal’s spiked tower shield.

I huddled behind my massive shield as I felt a splash of liquid heat wash over me. Between the two attacks, my Mimic Shield suffered a total of forty points of damage to its Health, considerable but not critical. My green, gold-flecked bar had filled up by a sliver and my own Health was still well above seven hundred and already starting to climb back up.

With a nasty smile, I noticed that the vines that had been trapping me had already started to blacken and wilt. I snapped them off, freeing myself from the immobilization spell’s clutches.

The giant had already begun to swing his weapon in a follow-up blow. I had to give him credit for his effort; he was certainly trying. Fighting someone, I had learned, was in part a war of information. What should you conceal? What should you reveal? These were all part and parcel of the cut and thrust of combat.

The large man was already aiming for my head with his club, his swing on a similar trajectory to before. But I saw it for what it was—a simple deception. It was written in his stance, the way he held himself, and his eyes, in bright, bold script.

I dodged the blow of his club and the kick that soon followed. Almost as an afterthought, I grabbed him, and his eyes widened in disbelief as my fingers dug deep into flesh and sinew. They widened even further as I smashed him against the spikes of my shield with my superior strength. His look of surprise as I repeatedly impaled his torso brought savage joy to my heart.

I kicked him off, his corpse making a bloody mess on the floor as the notification of his death flashed across my vision.

“Clarissa… Isabella, get out of here! He’s too much for us! Get some damn help!” Randal commanded desperately, his voice laced with conflicting terror and bravery.

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“Ran! The Boss!” they cried back, almost in unison, their lovely faces twisted with fear and concern as they shook their heads in denial.

Something snaked between the links of the mail at the back of my legs, cutting something important, and I fell to one knee in muted agony. The bloody Rogue had backstabbed me while I was distracted.

Snarling, I grabbed at Deschanel’s weapon ripping it from his grip and planting it through his hand a few inches deep into the tiled floor. He gave out a fresh howl that spurred his subordinates to fresh action.

The Flame Warden Randal charged at me, launching another small ball of fire midstride. I batted the fire aside, the leather of my gloves blackening at the impact as I suffered minor damage. On an instinctual level, I knew that my Improved Entropic Aura was dulling much of the spell's edge.

He roared as he approached, swinging his sword in a wide, flaming arc. Randal, poor Randal, you might as well have shouted what you were going to do. To my delight, I noticed that his face was growing sallow, my magic leeching his vital energy.

Hobbling, I ducked the searing blade and commanded my Mimic to withdraw. Drawing the knife at my belt, I clumsily launched myself at him using my Improved Rush Strike skill and in one smooth motion stabbed Randal in the thigh, tackling him to the floor. Like Deschanel, he started to scream his lungs out, his flaming sword disappearing back to wherever it had come from.

The ladies watched this exchange in horror, guilt twisting their features in a sublime expression of pain. Come now, he told you to run, I thought to myself as I slowly got up, kicking Randal as I did so. The damage the Rogue had inflicted was already healing rapidly and my leg was weakened but strong enough to walk on.

I saw on their faces one of the true aspects of humanity with its veneer of nobility ripped off. The need to survive at all costs was a simple one and in that focused simplicity all the stronger. All it would take was one last push. A reminder of sorts that they would carry with them to their dying days to assuage their guilt.

“I believe Randy here told you to run,” I offered, gesturing for them to go. Much as I wanted experience points, it would be a waste to turn their beauty to so much dust. “Run along now, he asked you to get help, right? I will wait. Hope that helps you with your decision.”

The two women exchanged a look, their eyes never leaving the screaming Randal as they backed out of the room before fleeing with their tails between their legs.

“Randal of the Distant World… we will return for you. You will pay for this Council scum!” one of the sisters declared.

I simply shrugged. There was a story here if I cared at all, which I did not.

“Now, Mr. Deschanel…” I turned around to find my other screaming victim who had grown quiet.

Oh no, there he was slumped against the wall, cradling his bloody and broken leg. The shock, blood loss, and Greater Drain combined with my Improved Entropic Aura must have all combined to unfortunately finish him off. Shame, I wanted to have a few words with him.

Well, that’s what you get for being all sneaky stabby.

Oh, well it was time to deal with Dandy Randy.

“Oh, won’t you stop screaming for a moment there Mr. Jeffries,” I began in English. “Don’t you have a Health potion or something you can use?” I suggested in a friendly voice.

“Good idea. Wait… you can speak English? Thank god, man… Thank God…You’re not one of them! Thought I was all by myself on this shithole of a place…” he replied through gritted and pained teeth, grasping at his thigh to stem the bleeding. Despite being in agony I saw relief and hope fill him.

“Wait… fuck… you know my name, how? Do I know you?” he asked, looking bemused.

The man had such a potty mouth. A need filled me, a need to splash more crimson across the gold and white marble floor. I had to hold myself back.

“Look, we don’t have much time. How did you get here… mate?”

He laughed weakly, holding up a hand and reaching for a pouch at his waist and producing a vial filled with red liquid. A Health potion if I was not mistaken. Randal unstoppered it with shaky hands, and drank from it, a fair portion of it spilling from his lips across his face and neck.

“Now, that’s better! Hot damn wish we had these back in the States,” Randal exclaimed in relief. I noticed that his Health had gone back up to a reasonable level. His Mana, however was hovering around two points, perhaps enough for a single spell.

“How I got here… Right, was on route 375 when there was like these bright lights. Next thing I know, complete whiteout. Bham! Then I’m like sitting in front of this old dude… Kaes Loka or just Loco Loco… you feel. I get to choose my path. Gave me a Blessing of Understanding, or something. Just like in those dweeb games… Then I was in this circle and the two girls were in some fancy magic robes and shit. Says I was like the chosen one,” he explained rapidly, his words coming out like bullets from a machine gun.

“I see… I had much the same experience,” I replied, stopping myself from gritting my teeth. Jealousy at his welcoming start threatened to reignite the murderous fire in my heart. “Hey, do you get experience points and levels? Can you see your Status?”

“What you talking about? Man, you sound like one of those nerds…” he said, trying to sit up.

I gave him a serious look of reproach. Faintly I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

“Naw man… don’t know what you are talking about…” he looked around shiftily.

“Quests… do you get Quests?” I demanded, insistent. “And why are the Bulls making a power play in the city?”

“Don’t know about that. Fuck man, I’ve been here a few months. Was just brought on with the girls to protect the boss man, the Deschanel dude… like that did him any good,” he explained saluting his cooling corpse. “Look man… I’m dead if I stay here. Help me out and I’ll sort you out, promise. How the hell did you deal with Gengor like he was a baby… the man was a beast. I saw him once…”

The rat was playing for time. “If you do not have the information I seek, then you are less than useless to me,” I stated coldly, putting an end to the charade. My patience was wearing thin, and the powers that be demanded sacrifice.

He looked extremely worried for a bit before I sheathed my dagger, an action that made him breathe a sigh of relief. A sigh that was short-lived, for I soon unslung my Lucerne, rolling it around with my wrist.

Seeing his end, Randal started to whimper like a whipped cur. “Why do you have to do this, man? Just stop… please…”

A sadistic smile lit a flame in my eyes. “Make it worth my while. What can you offer me? Beg me,” I teased, remembering the Necromancer’s instructions as I savored his fear.

I could hear a large group forming beyond the heavy doors of the study. I knew all too well the clank and jangle of armor. The tendrils of the Greater Drain sought for something beyond the door. They latched onto their earlier targets and I knew then that the twins had returned.

“Got given stupid fire powers when all I want is just a damn cool beer! Money… you want money right? Or, Look, the girls, right? They’re beautiful, yes? I’ll give you one of them. Which one do you want—Clarissa or Isabella? Damn, I’ll give you both of them! They’re wild in the sack… just spare my life, man, please,” he whined, slipping between his native English and the lingua franca of this world.

Intrigued for a moment, a new temptation fought and wrestled for control with my earlier desire. Well played, Randal. Well played.

As if the universe was bending over backwards to accommodate the drama unfolding, a group of armed men led by the two girls burst in just in time to hear the tail end of the coward’s offer.

I threw my head back and burst out in laughter.