Chapter 1

Power coursed through me as I blasted a row of attacking orcs with a magnetic shockwave—which required hardly a flick of my wrist. I found myself in shock at the turn my life had taken. My unstoppable magic hurled them bodily by their metal armor, knocking them off the platform we were battling on and flinging them twenty feet through the air. In my hand was a blade too heavy to be wielded by an ordinary man—but I was no longer an ordinary man.

Not by a long shot.

My head played the comical sound of a record scratching.

How did I get here?

Less than an hour earlier I’d been living another life completely…

***

Five thousand men and women crowded the huge open amphitheater so tightly that not even a blade of grass was visible underfoot. Their faces were bright with joy and anticipation, even in the mist that was descending from the nearby foothills in the fading afternoon light. They roared and cheered, some even holding up signs with my name on them.

Luis Smith, bassist and founder of my band: Teknikal Buzzsaw.

I smiled, happy with the best reception I’d ever had as I stepped to the center of the stage with my bass. Though a number of people in the crowd had been expecting Gracie Macks—our lead guitarist and singer—my popularity was starting to outgrow his.

I thought I heard something crackling and darted my eyes across the black stage, near our amps. Had Gracie actually made sure the venue gave us good patch cables like I’d asked him to? There was a foul smell too. Like something was shorting out. I’d have focused more on it, but the moment was too huge.

I’d poured every dollar in my savings account into making the contacts that got us this gig. The bus was running out of gas, and we’d be huffing fumes for dinner if we couldn’t sell enough CDs and shirts to recoup our costs.

This was all or nothing.

We couldn’t fail.

The lead vocal mic was at the front of the stage ten feet in front of me. Hanging above it forty feet in the air was a giant metal skull the size of a VW bus. Twisted BloodCurdle—the headliners—had it set up. The skull looked to be hanging by a single frayed rope, which didn’t seem safe, but I wasn’t in this business for safety. Besides, their whole thing was stylized destruction. It was probably a visual prop choice.

Gracie emerged from stage right in a flowing leather outfit that trailed on the ground like a long cloak. High-pitched screams and an unreal commotion broke out just in front of security down in the crowd.

It sounded like a women’s choir interrupted by a rampaging bull. Every woman in the audience wanted him, and some were so beautiful that they almost hurt to look at. He could have any of them in a second, but the real gorgeous ones were already back on our bus waiting for him.

Lucky bastard.

Gracie Macks wasn’t even his real name, it was Tim Johnson—that wasn’t stopping him one bit though.

He slung his guitar over his shoulder and walked up next to me, heading toward the lead vocal mic. I stepped on his cloak and pinned him in place, then leaned in to shout above the noise of the crowd. “Did you check the cables? Something seems off.” Gracie generally did what I asked, but sometimes he shirked his duties to chase fame and glory. It’d been a problem lately.

The venue had been a bit sketchy, and his one job had been to make sure we weren’t going to get blown up by some shitty outlet.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Chill, Luis,” he said, leaning on me and waving at the crowd. “Once I did that I showed Samantha my cable in the bus.” He chuckled, seeming to mostly blow off my question. We’d been butting heads frequently and his ego had been getting really out of hand. I’d already put him in his place a few times, but he was getting out of control.

“Maybe she can join me too, after the show,” he said, pointing at one of the crazed fans. He blew her a kiss and she screamed, ripping off her shirt and bra moments later as if he was a hypnotist. She cupped her breasts and shook them, exposing her pink nipples. Grinning as she did, satisfied with just his attention. He waved and winked at her, then elbowed me.

I was more focused on the cabling.

At least for the moment. I knew how to have my own fun.

Gracie was an asshole, but he was the frontman. That was basically his entire job. I couldn’t tell if he was lying about the cables, but we had to get a move on. It would probably be fine.

Still, he was in for a little surprise. I’d given him plenty of warnings, and he’d ignored all of them. He’d brought it on himself.

The crowd roared and cheered in response to our every move. “Time for me to get them started,” he said, stepping forward and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. I grabbed him by the shoulder and held him in place.

“I’m playing lead today,” I said. I’d had enough of his shit. He’d put himself here one fuckup at a time.

“What, no way. That’s all me, baby,” Gracie objected.

“You give me lead, or I shut you off all the social media,” I said. His eyes widened. “I take the first half of the set, you take the second.” That was more of a compromise than he deserved.

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would,” I said, pulling him in closer. “Next time you get here early and check every fucking line and outlet for wattage. It’s that, or you can say goodbye to all those Instagram and TikTok followers. I’ve got all the social passwords. I set them all up.” I’d put the band together and written all the music. Usually I didn’t flex like this, but he was endangering all of us. His license to dick around ended where our safety began.

He almost hissed at me, but then he just shrunk slightly. Then Gracie unslung his guitar and offered it to me, along with a silent nod of defeat. I took my bass off and set it in one of the stage stands, then set his guitar down and found my own nearby. I slugged it into one of our amps and slapped it on.

Then I danced my fingers across the frets as I stepped toward the microphone. That burning smell got worse, and my nostrils seemed to scorch with it. I couldn’t stop to look though. We had to start the vocal checks and get going. My guitar roared and buzzed throughout the venue and the crowd responded with cheers and screams.

My deft hands plucked out the notes to our most famous song, Purple Vibratory. My favorite that I’d written. It wasn’t the jazzy over-the-top stuff that Gracie liked, but real meat and potatoes rock and roll with some metal licks blended in.

I reached out and gripped the microphone. Ready to speak into it. But instead of words coming out of my mouth, my body went numb. My teeth clamped down and my legs locked. Smoke billowed out in front of me. In shock, I thought it was our fog machine, but the smoke was black and sooty. Someone shouted from behind me. The sound breaking through the noise of the crowd—which was now cheering, thinking that this was planned special effects.

The smoke in front of me exploded into huge red flames. They climbed the nearby stage rigging, leaping up the ropes as if they were greased with kerosene. Burning a blazing path toward the hanging metal skull.

A roar filled the air followed by a thundering crack. Suddenly my perspective shifted as if I was watching the show from above. Looking down on the stage from a bird’s-eye view above the crowd. I barely got a glimpse of myself stuck in place as the huge metal skull fell down.

The whole thing was on fire and roared down before smashing through my body and down on the stage. It stuck out of the smashed boards, eyes flaming. The fans cheered as if it was all part of the show. My amplifier blasted out a huge distorted reverberating smack. The crunch of the skull hitting me and my guitar running through it and becoming ten times louder.

I screamed, then fell to my knees. Somehow able to do that even though my body had clearly just been obliterated. Looking down with shock, I realized I had hands, but they were in a ghostly form. Then the scene beneath me was gone, and I was in a white void.

“That was the most metal way I’ve ever seen someone die,” a warm voice said from behind me. The speaker came into my view. She was a beautiful woman with skin the color of dark red clay. A slinky black dress practically dripped off of her long, toned legs. It ran up to her chest, where it transitioned to thin straps that ran over her shapely shoulders.

She had horns, to my surprise. Big curved black ones that ran up and twisted out. One was unadorned, but around the other one a golden halo spun around, hooked within the horn. It made a dull grinding hum as it rotated.

She spoke. “I’ll be quick. I’ve found that no amount of coddling improves these transitions. You’ve died. You’re dead.” She stared at me with glowing eyes. One blue, and the other gold, beneath the rotating halo. The toes on her feet were painted blue and gold too, and they were wedged into delicate spiked heels.

“No,” I croaked. My mouth barely working.

“My name is: She Who is Most Full of Chaos and Mirth and the Ruler of All Enjoyment.”

After a pause I said, “That’s a mouthful.” Managing a ghostly laugh. Trying to seize control of the moment somehow.

She clasped her hands back together in an almost cutesy gesture and said, “But you can call me Jodi. My finest supplicants do.”

I swallowed again and took a breath, wondering if I even had lungs. “What’s… what’s happening, Jodi?”

“You’re dead, but I’m giving you a new life because you had the most hard rocking, metal death I have seen in a very, very long time.” She brought her hand to her breast, the ample reddish skin dimpling from the pressure of her hand. “I’ve seen every death since the beginning of time. Literally. So that’s really saying something.”

“A new life? To do what?” I asked, deciding just to roll with whatever the hell was happening. That was one thing I’d always been good at: rolling with whatever life threw my way.

“My nemesis—the God of Order whose real name will literally put you to sleep if I say it—put someone of his own into play. I finally have the power to send someone in and I’m sending you. The God of Order has sent a man you’d likely hate. The kind of guy who’d send your email back with corrections on grammar and punctuation.”

“Yikes,” I said. “No shit? Into play where?” My mind reeled.

“No shit, Luis,” she replied, bobbing her horned head and dodging my question. “He was a middle manager in a parking enforcement facility. The man was more uptight than a duck’s asshole sitting on a frozen pond.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I said, throwing up my hands.

“He idolizes Bill Lumbergh from the film Office Space,” she continued. “This man literally framed his first pair of khaki pants after he dry-cleaned them. So they’d always have a perfect crease.”

“I can’t take it anymore. The guy’s an asshole. Message received,” I said.

“The God of Order told him that he would gain power in proportion to the order he brought to the land.” I winced, and she saw it. That sounded like a drag. “He’s ruined everyone’s lives, and he couldn’t be happier—if you could call his existence happy. Your bargain will be different. I am sending you into the realm to offset this man. The more fun you have, the more powerful you will become. That goes in kind for those of the realm. Improving their well-being will increase your power. Abuse it and bring misery to the lands, and you will lose your strengths and abilities. You can rock out later, if you want.”

“My power?” I asked, my confusion increasing as her body turned to smoke before my very eyes. “What will my power be?”

“You will be… absolutely magnetic!” she shouted back. “The vessel you’re being placed into was the body of a wicked man. He’s fated to die today. Feel no guilt in commandeering it. Free the realm, and grow your power. Help the people of the realm!”

I tried to stand up from the kneeling position I was in, but I couldn’t move. Something was locked tight around my neck. The world around me swirled and changed. Slowly resolving into a new scene. A familiar orb burned above me, and I craned my neck to see the sun in the sky.

I tried to move my hands to shield my eyes from its brightness, but they too were immobilized.

“Wait, tell me more!” I shouted, but she was already gone. I guess I couldn’t expect much of an orientation from the literal Goddess of Chaos. If that’s what she really was.

The rabble of a crowd reached my ears. One eager for action—yet still hushed. Was I snapping out of my electrocution? Had I returned from that strange dream to the stage again? With my band waiting nearby?

Maybe I could even finish the show. I looked down and faced the crowd with absolute shock.

Spread out before me was a very different scene than I was expecting. Instead of a group of twenty-something concert attendees, the broad stone town square was filled with all manner of strange and exotic creatures. Most of which were wearing old-school Victorian clothing—vests, top hats, and high leather boots.

There were thin men and women with pointed ears and long flowing hair. Shorter ones with great beards. I scanned rapidly, searching for signs of normal humans, but saw none. My hands and neck were clamped tight in something, and my view was elevated as if I was looking down from a stage.

Far off in the distance huge black shapes drifted in the skyline. I thought that they were airplanes for a moment, but they were moving too slowly. They were also way too big. I blinked, trying to figure out what the hell they were.

Blimps?

Huge blimps with long metal runners trailing along their sides. They drifted in the distance, moving back and forth in the sky over a huge nearby mountain range. I shook my head in disbelief and returned my gaze to the town square.

Scattered in the crowd were big green monsters with jutting yellow teeth. There were more strange creatures too.

Elves.

Dwarves.

Hundreds of gray humanoid creatures with gray hair.

Then green ones. Orcs.

The orcs were massive, easily standing at least two heads taller than anyone I had ever seen. Their skin was a pale green, and their muscles bulged with raw power. Scars crisscrossed their bodies, evidence of countless battles and victories.

But instead of plate mail or chain mail I saw something extremely strange on their oversized bodies. Not skulls and tooth necklaces or shrunken heads either.

Something else entirely.

Chain mail ties, and khaki pants. With skin-tight button-down shirts. Like they’d just come out of a business meeting at some corporate company. One of them was fussing with his tie, which looked almost to be choking him. The other had a palm-sized mirror—which was as big as my own head—and seemed to be fixing his hair.

A red mass that he was palming back with a tiny tin of grease. All of them looked extremely uncomfortable, but compelled to keep these strange appearances. Their eyes darted to one another, then back toward me. As if at any moment someone was going to come along and check their uniforms.

My mouth hung open in shock, and my chin hit something wooden and hard. I craned my neck to see what I’d hit and noticed that I was stuck into old-school stocks. My head and hands bound in little tight circles. Clamped in place. Like they kept drunks in public squares to shame them. Back when knights and kings ruled the land.

Had that even been true? Or had I just seen that in a cartoon?

Any thoughts of historical accuracy left my mind as I looked up and saw an even bigger orc to my left. On his shoulders he wore chain mail styled like a suit jacket, and his tie was made of links of gold. He wore black slacks of more chain mail, and his hair was shaved into a neat buzz.

His huge eyebrows were immaculately plucked into tight lines, as if he’d been to a beautician.

“What in the world,” I muttered, surprised by the sound of my own voice. It was deeper and full of a strength I didn’t recognize. As if a mountain were talking instead of me. “What is going on?”

I turned my head and saw someone next to me. It was a woman with a delicate jawline. Her face was stony with determination, and long orange hair tumbled down her face. A strange-looking gray man was beyond her. We were all bound in the same wooden shackle.

I craned my neck, surprised at how easily it moved. All the achiness I’d had in my body was gone. The scars and wounds of hauling amps and sleeping on hotel futons were gone. I felt like a leopard ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Then I saw it.

A great long gleaming blade. Slanted at one end and tapering down. Polished to a razor-sharp point. It hung above the three of us, long enough to kill us all in one single stroke. I gulped, my Adam’s apple getting caught in my shackles. That Jodi had really screwed me over.

How was I going to get out of this?

Chapter 2

“Skagg. Don’t drop lever. Speech first!” a deep voice bellowed from my left. The speaking orc’s mouth was wide with shock and dismay. He was the one with the golden tie and chain mail jacket.

I was surprised to be able to read any kind of expression on such an ugly face, but he looked like he wanted to slap his forehead with his palm. I craned my neck further and saw another smaller orc leaning forward toward a large wooden lever attached to the guillotine.

I bet I knew what that did.

“You don’t want to do that!” I shouted. I threw every bit of force and charisma I could into it. Hadn’t that goddess woman said I’d be magnetic?

Had that meant charisma?

Influence?

The orc blinked his huge bloodshot eyes at me, pausing mid-reach for a moment. Like a child caught reaching for a candy bar.

Had it worked?

Maybe she’d given me Jedi powers, like from Star Wars. One of the movies I’d loved ever since I was a kid. The idea that I’d have that kind of power was electrifying. If I hadn’t had my head stuck in a guillotine I would’ve been whooping with excitement.

Everything else around me was so strange. So crazy.

Over the top.

He blinked once more, his bulging filthy arm stretched out toward the splintering wooden handle. It was covered in dark splatters that had to be dried blood. I said, “You don’t want to do that,” again, nodding at him. As if the nodding would make him agree with my command. His big cracked lips pulled back to expose his filthy teeth.

“Do. Do want,” he bellowed. Then he pulled the lever down.

Shit.

So much for Jedi mind tricks.

“Skagg! No! Bad orc!” the well-dressed one yelled, clomping across the stage toward us.

A rapid clanking rattled the wooden stocks and warned of some mechanism winding into action. My heart pounded in my chest and I threw myself into the stocks, trying to break free.

It was no use. They were too tight. As my adrenaline flowed, something caught my attention. A brightness and warmth was blossoming above the back of my neck.

I thought I was imagining it, but I could’ve sworn that I could feel the metal of the deadly execution blade as if my hands were running across it.

That couldn’t be right though. I’d barely seen the full thing. Most of it was out of sight.

Regardless, the sensation was there. I could also sense gears turning in the post that housed the blade. They were sturdy and well-grooved. They led up into the mechanism that held the blade in place.

The blade was more than twelve feet long and would drop shortly. Without really knowing what I was doing I reached out and held the deadly metal blade in place. I felt the weight of it come free from the housing around it as the last of the gears moved to release the catch.

The crowd went silent. The murmurs of the bored melting away into expectant awe. Preparing for the shock of the violence. It had a rhythm to it. There was no doubt in my mind that they’d seen many executions like this.

But instead of the slicing of sharpened metal through air, there was quiet. Instead of the snicking of metal into flesh, there were only confused orc grunts to my left.

In place of the hard smack of hundreds of pounds of steel into my bones, there was a faint hum. I held onto the weight with my mind—or whatever was latched onto it.

In the moment I’d started to try and control the blade I’d expected to feel exertion from the control I was using on the steel. Instead it felt incredible.

Energizing.

Like power was surging into me instead of out at the effort.

The orcs were bickering and shoving each other now, puffing up their chests like drunk guys in line at a club. I had no idea what was stopping the blade from dropping—or if it was actually me doing it.

So I kept still, watching. I was worried that my grasp on it would slip if I moved or spoke.

The bigger orc with the golden tie backhanded Skagg with what looked like a solid gold briefcase. I’d expected a battle axe or a weapon of some kind. But the office theme continued to the point of insanity.

I hadn’t seen anything like it before. “No pull lever! Speech, then lever,” he said. His voice had the tone of barely restrained patience. Like a parent on the verge of snapping.

There was also frustration in his voice. As if he’d been on the receiving end of similar lectures.

He stepped over with controlled strides and looked at me, then at the lever, and finally at the blade. His well-groomed eyebrows came together as he observed.

“Wha?” he said. Then he shook his head and cranked the lever back up. I felt the gears turning inside the wooden post housing again.

They were going to ratchet up a hook that was supposed to slot into the base of the blade. With a bit of focus I lifted the blade an inch higher and closer to the catch. There was a snap as the support moved into place, and I felt the weight of the metal release.

The boss orc nodded. He turned and glared at Skagg, then said, “Stay down.” The boss orc moved forward—still off to my left. He approached the edge of the stage that extended past us toward the crowd. I tried to steady my breathing. I wasn’t dead yet. Maybe I could keep it that way.

“I am Ugg!” the boss shouted at the crowd. He raised his briefcase over his head and shook it as if people should be impressed. The response was mild. In the group of a hundred or so onlookers, there seemed to be fifteen orcs.

They stood out amongst the rest. Gigantic and green. Some wearing wicked metal armor, and others wearing that strange orc business stuff.

Orc war-casual office wear.

I almost chuckled at my own joke, but focused instead on the crowd.

Half of the orcs raised their fists back at Ugg. The ones who really gave him a positive response were the well-groomed ones. They all had bleached teeth and neat clothing. Greased-back hair.

The wilder ones sneered openly then returned their attention to the crowd. All of them had axes and maces at their hips—except for Ugg.

“Ugg leader. Ugg smart. Ugg follow Lord Manageer’s leadership. This put Ugg in charge. When Ugg come to…” The big orc trailed off, turning his head back and forth.

He looked to be deep in thought, though I could only see the side of him. “What this place called?”

A gray-skinned being that looked roughly human almost smiled. Then he covered his mouth with his hand.

“You!” Ugg shouted at him, pointing the briefcase at him like a microphone. “What this town called?”

“Me? Oh. Uh… it’s Clontikus. You’ve just conquered Clontikus village.”

Conquered?

What had I gotten stuck into?

“Ah. Right. Yes. Ugg and crew are in Clontikus.” The orc said it as if sounding out a strange offering on a foreign menu. “I am leader. We are Merger and Acquisitions Team for Lord Manageer.” He paused, letting that sink in. I found myself mouthing some very confused swears as I tried to track the strange angle his speech had gone on.

“One of many teams,” Ugg said. “But mine is best. Made of most smartest and handsomest orcs in all of nation.” He lowered his golden briefcase and regarded his fingernails, which were surprisingly clean.

“Maybe the blade would be better than this speech,” I joked, mostly to get the woman’s attention. Anyone would be upset in this situation, but she looked absolutely wrecked. She wasn’t crying or anything, but her eyes were downcast. I wanted to help her. Help all of us.

After I spoke, we locked eyes and the energy that passed between us was powerful. She had a gorgeous face, and glowing gold eyes that were flecked with black. The black brought out the brilliance of them.

The hair that fell across her soft cheeks was bright orange like firelight.

Whoa.

Despite everything, I smiled at her open-heartedly. Then I threw her a stunted wave with a shackled hand. A slow curving smile spread across her face. It almost looked like she was going to wave back too, but then her face hardened. The smile vanished and she looked dead ahead into the crowd. Cold and hard.

The moment had passed.

It’d felt odd. Like I’d missed something.

A warm reception and then cold water splashed right on top.

“What’s a merging and mats for scissors team?” one of the grimy orcs bellowed from the middle of the crowd. I found it odd that he’d be asking that.

Hadn’t he come in with the well-dressed orcs?

Why would he not know?

Was he planted in the crowd for this strange semi-corporate show they were putting on?

Then again, everything going on was odd.

So there was that.

Just roll with it, Luis. You’re probably still dreaming.

“Good question,” Ugg said. “Merger and Acquisition. Not… what you just say. Lord Manageer like dialogue with staff. Say is good for morale and training. Mergers and Acquisition is used to be called army or horde. We come to new places. Hire on fresh orcs like you.”

Ugg pointed his free hand at the questioning orc. As if to make it easier to comprehend. The three of us in the executioners’ stocks and the crowd waited silently as this all unfolded, as if we weren’t there at all. “We hire you on as contractors. Then help merge resistance into ground, and acquire all goods in town or city. Does this make sense?”

The orc in the crowd winced as if the words were bitter in his ears. His face screwed up tight. Another one nearby shook his head. “This dumb!” he roared. “We no need order. We take what want. You too fancy be strong. I in charge now. Shut up!” The challenger was bigger than Ugg and wore a metal helmet with bright red converging stripes. It covered most of his battered face and looked like it had seen plenty of action.

Ugg had started speaking again but stopped and stared down. He turned to look over at us and set down his golden briefcase. Then he tightened his chain mail tie and straightened his jacket.

After a moment of looking at us, he turned over to another fancy orc and gave the big green monster a nod. It walked over to us calmly and stood over Skagg, who was still on the floor.

The new one nodded back to Ugg and boxed Skagg out, keeping the lever in position. Then Ugg picked up his briefcase and stepped down into the packed crowd. The many fantastical people parted way as Ugg strode forward.

Now ready for combat, the red-helmeted orc pulled a bloody battle axe up to his shoulder and slammed it on the side of his head. The roar that came out of him sent chills down my spine. It was almost human, but with primal undertones.

Like a wild bear screaming.

Ugg had closed the gap between the pair and was moving as if he’d been headed off to get a glass of water from the orc water cooler. The challenger brought his axe in front of himself, taking a combat stance.

Then, with no warning at all, Ugg swung his briefcase at the red-helmeted orc’s head with incredible force.

Chapter 3

The golden briefcase smashed into the challenger orc’s helmet with speed and strength that I hadn’t expected from Ugg after all that talk. I’d been expecting him to walk up and start a dialogue.

He certainly had.

And he’d started it with a bang.

The challenger toppled sideways, barely keeping his footing. As he staggered, the crowd cleared, gradually forming into the open fight pit that I’d seen at so many of my shows.

The ring-around-the-brawl that allowed spectators safety and also a perfect view of the action. It was somehow comforting in this alternate reality that I’d stumbled into.

Even in a world of office-casual orcs, people made room for a good brawl.

The red-helmeted orc stopped in place, his eyes slowly centering after his daze. He raised his axe to his now-ruined helmet and yelled, “I am Gru! I will destroy you!”

With that, he charged forward, axe held high with two hands. Ugg waited in place, fidgeting with his tie and wiping blood off of his briefcase. It was dripping down Gru’s cheek as he ran headlong in a reckless attack.

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Just as Gru closed to swipe, Ugg gracefully wheeled sideways on one foot. He slipped a toe into Gru’s path, tripping him forward. As the filthy orc fell to the ground, Ugg raised his briefcase and slammed it into the back of the challenger’s helmet.

The golden weapon smashed down with precision and force, denting under an initial blow, then collapsing and exploding under two more.

Ugg stood up, barely showing exertion under his suited chain mail. His briefcase had to weigh a hell of a lot. I’d expected it to be dented—since gold wasn’t the strongest metal around—but it was in perfect condition.

Maybe it was enchanted.

That’d make as much sense as anything else that was happening.

Ugg pulled a clean white handkerchief from his metal jacket pocket then wiped the orc blood off of his tie. He dabbed it like a fancy shag carpet. Then he went to work on his black slacks and matching black leather shoes.

He was going to need a stronger stain remover than that for the job.

Pretty sure your average packaged wipes aren’t even rated for a moderate marinara stain.

Let alone orc blood saturation.

Eventually he straightened up and tossed the now-filthy rag on Gru’s still-twitching body. He moved back to the stage with relaxed purpose, fidgeting with his armored tie. Smiling with a mouth full of what I was now seeing were fangs filed flat like human teeth.

Ugg stepped around to the right, carefully ascending the nearby stairs in a very civilized manner. He moved without speaking or hurrying, and the entire courtyard watched in silence.

If there were birds nearby they were quiet too—probably wanting to avoid the briefcase treatment. The whole place hung in quiet awe.

Finally he made it back to the center and cleared his throat in what felt like a gesture intended to make himself sound more human. “Gru was an at-will employee. Contract worker,” he said, turning to nod at the big orc near me.

He relaxed but still stood near the lever and occasionally eyed Skagg who had suddenly become very still. “His contract is over. He is mergered with the ground,” Ugg explained, as if he were an HR manager at a minimally stressful severance meeting.

He cleared his throat again and looked at the crowd, then swung his briefcase at the three of us in the stockade. “These three we execute today. For violation of most basic rules of Lord Manageer’s empire,” he said, raising one finger at a time with his free hand. He nodded.

A few people in the front row nodded back at him, clearly terrified they’d be as casually murdered as the dead orc had been for objecting.

“He traitor to many peoples. Responsible for the thing out at Gragnor City. No one miss him.” I looked over to my right, expecting him to be talking about the other guy in the stocks—but he and the beautiful orange-haired woman were staring straight at me.

She had absolute hatred in her eyes, and the man looked upset too.

All it had taken was mention of Gragnor City. What was that, and what happened there?

Had Ugg been talking about me?

“Next one found have to committed unlicensed fornication. Penalty by death. No trial. Straight to gallows,” Ugg continued. If anyone wanted to make a correction about the form of execution, no one did.

“Guilty!” the man at the end of our wooden prison yelled out, throwing his hands wide. A few of the crowd members almost laughed, but stopped short. Probably worried about contributing to Ugg being upstaged.

Unlicensed fornication? Had that been what he’d said?

The goddess Jodi had said this place had gotten uptight—but damn. You needed a permit to get laid?

If I was going to fix things here I’d have a lot more work to do than I thought.

Ugg didn’t notice the crowd’s reaction to my death row companion’s one-liner. The head orc kept speaking with a false cadence that seemed to be picked up from someone else.

The calm, almost bored recitation he was going through gave me the distinct feeling that he’d been the master of ceremonies for many, many executions of this kind.

“Last one. She worst. Refuse come to all-hands meeting,” Ugg said, turning and sneering at the orange-haired woman at the end of the stocks. “Lord Manageer delegate Ugg power to call all-hands meeting. When Ugg call all-hands… that mean all hands.”

He nodded to the crowd and they nodded back again. “If want, can chop off hands. Get them here. Today, make point with woman. Understand?”

One of the fancy orcs in the crowd threw up a fist in the affirmative. “Team dynamics important. All must be present!” he shouted back.

I shook my head in the stocks, whispering, “What in the actual fuck?”

Ugg looked over at the lever. I reached out again, trying to feel for the blade. As I did I felt my senses expanding, picking up on more in the area.

The links in their armor.

The weapons in the hands of the orcs in the crowd.

What remained of Gru’s smashed helmet on the floor ahead of me. All of the metal seemed to sing to me. Begging me to focus on it.

Wells of potential waiting to be tapped.

It felt crazy to think, but I could almost count the number of coins in the audience member’s waist purses and pockets. A few of them had hidden daggers on their legs. To my right, nestled between two ruined stone buildings, three figures hunched in the darkness.

The low sun had thrown shadows that they hid in. They seemed to be wearing long brown peasant robes. Under the robes though, I could sense the sturdy order of steel plate mail.

There were well-made joints on their legs and arms. At their sides, too, were sharp steel swords and daggers.

They were smaller than orcs and seemed better armed.

Who were they, and what the hell were they up to?

I could feel the shape of an insignia on their chests, too. A lion with its mouth open wide. A sword stuck vertically in its jaw, preventing it from closing. A depiction of technique felling a much mightier enemy.

No one else nearby was wearing similar armor, and they seemed to be keeping out of the fight somehow.

“What wrong Drakku?” Ugg asked.

I shifted my focus to the executioner’s blade, locking in on its weight, becoming more confident with every moment that I’d misunderstood the goddess Jodi when she’d said I’d be magnetic.

Had she not meant I’d be charismatic?

Had she meant it literally?

I licked my lips, trying to come to grips with the thought. I had no idea what I could do with the metal—but there was plenty of it around.

If I could hold up a hundred-pound executioner’s blade without touching it, then surely I could manipulate other smaller objects.

Was I actually holding the blade up? Or was this all a fever dream?

The last actions of a deep-fried brain before it got smashed by a flaming prop skull?

“I not know something and am too afraid to ask,” Drakku said.

“Go. Say,” Ugg encouraged.

“So. Why use this thingy?” Drakku said, pointing at the machine of death I was locked in. The orc had a silver chain mail tie and a basic white shirt made of cloth. Some kind of underling.

“Ah. This. Is sticking point I know.” Ugg said with surprising patience. “Why not want use?” Ugg followed up.

“Let’s just chop offa heads with axe!” Drakku said. “We take whole town all smart. Have fun now. One at a time. Hear screams. See blood. You know. Like old ways.” Drakku’s eyes flicked toward the dead challenger’s body out ahead.

The defeated foe had behaved as I’d thought orcs would.

Loud.

Dirty.

Aggressive.

A classic orc.

Ugg put his hand on Drakku’s shoulder. “Ah. I see. Is hard to let go, yeah?” Drakku nodded. For a moment I saw a wistful look pass over Ugg’s clean face. His own eyes looked at the dead orc, then went down momentarily.

As if he too missed the life of barbarity.

“Is efficient. Not always have to be fun. We used always do fun. That never got us out of Scraggle lands. Now we out here. Started at bottom of Scraggle Rock valley and now we here.”

Drakku nodded. “I see,” he said.

“I tell you what,” Ugg went on, slapping the orc on the back. “You kill them! Is fun. You see. Go ahead. My treat.”

Drakku’s face lit up with excitement. He grinned his purple lips wide to reveal partially filed-flat teeth. Then his hand shot out for the lever.

He pulled it.

Chapter 4

I flinched as the release slammed. The crack of it set the gears in motion and the blade fell a full foot before I managed to focus and stop it in place. It’d fallen so close that I could sense it slicing the hair on the back of my neck.

The damn thing was sharp.

Ugg made a satisfied grunt as if the blade had done its job. Then the briefcase fell out of his hand and his mouth gaped open. “Huh?” He and Drakku both stood there.

Drakku pulled the lever a few times, thinking it would help. The giddiness of pure joy bubbled up in my chest and stomach.

They weren’t even looking at me. They didn’t have a clue.

A few people had screamed as the lever fell again, anticipating the same outcome as the orcs. Once the blade stopped in place just short of our necks, the crowd gave out a collective gasp.

A stout, short man in the front row beamed a crooked toothy grin. He had a huge red beard and a leather tunic on. His left eye was black, as if he’d been in a fight recently—maybe in defense of the town.

As I watched the crowd I saw quite a few scrapes and bruises. Cuts and bandages. Splints. Those that had them were all enjoying the spectacle of the execution failing.

“Get the tech guy!” Ugg shouted over his shoulder at the back of the stage. “Get them out of it,” he snarled. “Is ruining presentation!” The anger seeping into his voice bled away the controlled human affect he was putting on.

Ugg’s voice was guttural and wild now. He stepped over, kicking the orc on the floor as he went. Then him and Drakku lifted the blade up.

I let them.

It rose back to the top where they snapped it in place. Then the pressure on my throat lessened as the top of the wooden stock hinged back. “You may rise. Slowly, Ajax Baylor. We’d get even you this way. Chained and outnumbered.”

It sounded like a pretty badass name. I wondered if he was talking to me or the unlicensed fornicator.

Ajax Baylor, Unlicensed Fornicator.

That had an even better ring to it.

With my powerful legs and core I stood up from kneeling on one leg without using my hands. The chains around them were sturdy, but metal as well.

Iron by the look of it. I’d been so focused on the blade and my surroundings that I hadn’t even noticed. When I stood to my full height I realized I was looking down at Ugg.

Looking down?

He looked like he was easily six feet tall himself.

How tall was I now? I peered around, taking in the surroundings, slightly more at ease now that the threat of the blade was removed for the moment. They’d have to take me in a fight now.

My hands were huge and powerful.

Functional sinewy muscles ran up from them to biceps that had the sturdy thick look of a farm worker. Not the showy kind bodybuilders pursued. I was wearing only a brown loincloth, and the strength apparent in my monstrous legs would have put any CrossFit enthusiast to shame.

I’d need to get my hands on some pants, once this was over.

I turned slowly and saw that four more orcs were crowding me. Some of them looked like women. A bit more slight, with somewhat softer features. One of them looked more vicious than the rest of the crew though, and she held a long serrated blade out. Ready to strike at my back.

That won’t be nearly enough.

The thought blew through my mind as if I’d heard it on Bluetooth headphones. I looked around, but there wasn’t anyone talking. It felt like it’d vibrated from deep within my body.

A bone-deep confidence brought on by hundreds of battles and just as many slain. That confidence was accompanied with a hunger for combat.

I knew instinctively that I could kill two of the orcs with my bare hands before they could really take a crack at me.

Something stung in my body. I looked down and saw a chalky blue crystal shard sticking out of my chest. It felt cold and was sapping some kind of energy from me.

As I continued to get my bearings I was nearly overwhelmed by the flood of urges and instincts this new body was pushing toward my foreign brain.

Then there was the earthy smell of manure. The tickle of a warm breeze across my skin. Something floral wafting off of Ugg, and another foul scent coming from the downed orc Skagg to my left.

“No try anything. We take you. No tricks for you,” Ugg said, tapping on the crystal in my chest. The pressure hurt, but less than I would’ve thought.

I leaned forward, crouching a bit to make my face level with him. Then with another wide grin I said, “Are you certain about that, Ugg?”

The orc almost successfully suppressed a gulp.

Almost.

Apparently I already had a reputation. That was good.

A bespectacled creature clomped up the stage and toward us. It looked like a billy goat walking on its hind legs. The creature wore a red jumpsuit that looked almost like a prison uniform.

On the chest were the letters MS. Beneath them was a pound sign and the numbers 1273999. The thing had humanoid hands, but the hooves of a goat. Ribbed horns ran back from tufts of brown hair, which poked through a little tailored hat.

“You called for me, big boss?” the thing said. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was. It didn’t look comfortable though.

“Fix,” Ugg barked. He slapped the goat on the back of its head, knocking its glasses onto the ground. “Machine broken. Bradley fix.” The creature yelped at the smack, then fell to all fours to pick up its thick glasses.

The words Maintenance Syndicate were printed on the back of the jumpsuit.

“Certainly sir. Apologies. Apologies,” the goat sniveled. Tears were running down its face. The voice seemed deep. With the name, probably a goatkin then.

As if that made any fucking sense at all.

It clomped over to the guillotine. The orcs pulled on my chains and led me back away from the stocks. The shackled man and the woman followed suit.

We locked eyes for a brief moment and I found her just as striking this time. I gave her another big goofy smile and she almost gave me one back—then shook her head and hardened once more.

She was tall. Almost as tall as the orcs. She wore a brown leather apron over long red sleeves. Despite everything I wanted to go say hello to her and make some small talk.

The body I was in hardly felt threatened by the position I’d been put into. As if this was a normal day. I’d felt more physical stress playing gigs at coffee shops.

Strange, given the fact that I was scheduled for imminent execution.

The thing in my chest made my skin crawl though.

Literally.

The flesh across my chest seemed to almost ripple. Then it stopped. Like goosebumps that wanted to rise but never quite made it out.

I wanted to rip the damn thing out of my chest. That would have them swinging at me surely, though. Ugg seemed to think it was making me weaker somehow.

As the goatkin ran the machine through its paces I gazed out across the town. It was quaint. Stone-cobbled roads in some places, with dirt roads intersecting.

Low brick houses with thatched roofs. The sun had inched lower, and in the distance miles of deep green grass grew that led toward rolling hills.

There were farms out there too. Intermixed were strange devices that didn’t seem to fit. Something boxy and metal that almost looked like an old Model-T Ford.

Devices around me had complex branding that seemed like they’d been purchased from a Target department store, and not at some nearby inn or old timey shop.

I’d stumbled into quite a place. I had no idea where, or what, I’d landed in. One thing I was certain of was that the orcs felt very wrong.

The atmosphere of barely constrained violence was grating on me. In the crowd someone stepped a bit too close to one of the orcs and the monster threw a clawed hand in their face, drawing blood.

The victim was tall and slender and green blood came out instead of red. Their eyes rolled in their head at the force of the smack, and they collapsed into the crowd.

As I continued to survey the land, I saw a pile of sacks laid out haphazardly at the end of the courtyard.

They looked odd for a rural town.

At first I thought they were sandbags. Then my eyes focused and saw a bloodied hand sticking out of one.

They weren’t sacks, but bodies. Stacked on top of each other as carelessly as logs.

Someone would have to do something about this.

There wasn’t a lot of nuance to pull apart.

The guys banning sex wouldn’t be gaining any points in my book. That meant they certainly had worse laws. To boot, they’d slaughtered what looked like defenseless people.

On top of that, they were planning to execute me. The goddess Jodi had said there’d be plenty for me to do.

It was clear that she was right. I wanted to punish these assholes for what they’d done, and that feeling was amplified by the instincts of the body I was now seated in.

Reaching out and killing them felt natural, but urgent. Like I was missing an important window.

While I’d been looking around, the goat creature had tested the guillotine, which I let fall unhindered.

“Get in the stocks. Time to die. If no worky. We do old-school way,” Ugg said, tipping a nod at Drakku. “No reason can’t have some fun.”

Fun.

That’s what Jodi had said too.

The more fun I had the stronger I’d get.

“No,” I said to the orc Ugg.

His lip trembled momentarily. Then stopped. “Get in.” He reached his arms out for my chains and I let him grab them.

I leaned down again until my face was almost pressed against his, then smiled wide and said, “No.”

Chapter 5

Ugg’s face pulled back with rage, his strangely smooth green skin tightening. He barked something in another language.

Probably his native tongue. More orcs rushed up to the stage.

I scowled down at Ugg, letting my rage come through.

I’d dealt with plenty of assholes in my life.

I made a decision at that moment, standing in front of Ugg, that I wouldn’t be letting anything slide anymore.

In this new life of mine, I’d be running the fucking show.

And I’d have a blast doing it.

“Kneel!” Ugg bellowed, pulling on my manacled hands. Yanking them down. I held the force back with hardly any effort.

Ugg was like a little boy pulling on a low tree branch. I turned my head slowly and counted eight orcs on the platform.

Seven more in the crowd. As I scanned, my body coiled. Ready to strike.

What to do first?

The bladed weapons at your back. They’re the ones to watch for. Orcs are stupid, but brutal. That will be a dangerous blow.

The thought cruised through my mind on that same vibrational wavelength that I’d mistaken for a Bluetooth in-ear speaker at first.

Almost as if another person had thought in my head. Except it thought with the same wavelengths as me. Ugg was shouting some more, but I ignored him. Planning my first move. As I did, complex plans of battle unfolded in my mind.

Individual strikes that were available to me as easily as plucking the open e string on a guitar.

Right. This body was a practiced fighter. There might be more here than I realized in the way of bodily knowledge and power.

Whatever the body thought it knew, it didn’t seem to have my magnetic powers factored in. I wasn’t sure how far I could take them, but it was possible I could win the fight with that alone.

I let my mind drift for only a few seconds. Thinking about how far I could take the ability.

There was so much I could do with just a bit of brainstorming—and I’d barely started to understand what I could do. Once I’d practiced and played with the technique there were bound to be some really fun and creative applications.

But that was for later. For now, blunt ideas and brute strength would be plenty.

They’d all be dead in a few minutes.

That was the goal.

I set the intention like visualizing a perfect performance. Me standing on the stage, free from the chains. The crowd cheering at the liberation.

Ugg pulled the chains again and this time I yielded just a half inch, to get him off balance. As he pulled down I caught his efforts and rebounded upward, flicking my arms up with maximum strength. Sending them out, too, toward my captors.

As I moved them I sent an experimental burst of focus out from the center of the chains. Focusing on one central link. Imagining the metal coming apart, brittle from the pressure.

They snapped like foam packing peanuts.

My fists flew wide, slamming into the nearest flanking orcs. With the basic intention of handling the attackers behind me, my body bucked forward into a dual-purpose move. Charging a headbutt into Ugg’s nose, and creating space for the curved blade strike to miss—the one the woman held at my back.

I felt the metal sail through the air mere inches from the base of my skull.

The crunch of my forehead hitting Ugg was incredibly satisfying—the hammer blow throwing him back and on his ass. I whirled to face the remaining five orcs.

The two I’d initially hit had flown off the front and back of the stage and were groaning their way to their feet.

Pure joy coursed through my muscles and veins, as if the body I’d been inhabiting had ached for this exact outcome.

I was grinning ear to ear.

Then I let myself laugh like a maniac.

Drakku was the only office-dressed orc. The others were wearing standard metal armor. They were hideous and covered in scars. I could smell them from across the stage.

I reached out with my senses, feeling for a grip on everything metal in front of me. It took more effort than the single target I’d focused on before—the executioner’s blade—but I was certain I could influence them all at once.

With a performative flourish that I knew wasn’t necessary, I threw my hand out in front of me and flicked my fingers at the band of orcs.

The magnetic blow wasn’t as powerful as I’d intended. Instead of launching them all back ten feet like I’d hoped, their armor wavered in the air. The effect was still powerful enough to confuse them though.

Two of them even lost grip of their axes.

The weapons squirted out of their grips and chunked into the stage, sticking in place and quivering.

The most savage of the group charged me, fists raised. He’d lost his weapon, but almost looked thrilled at the prospect of hand-to-hand.

What the hell was he doing?

Brave, but stupid. Untrained and easily handled. This one isn’t one of Manageer’s finest. Pathetic, but respectable in a way.

The instinct voice seemed to almost respond to my inner question.

It had been right. Of all the orcs, Drakku—the one in his own silver chain-mail tie—was the only one with his wits remotely about him. He’d backed away from me with his weapon raised and was signaling to the orcs in the crowd.

I saw him throw a nod in my direction and wondered if he was signaling to someone. I felt Ugg’s gold briefcase and distinct chain mail scrabbling away from me on the stage.

As the dumber orc finally made it to me I threw a punch out at him. I marveled as the perfectly formed strike came out almost of its own accord.

My fist found him squarely in the eyes.

The placement of my arm directed maximum force down my own skeleton, displacing the blow across my body, cracking my arm like a whip into the bastard.

Blood shot out from the impact and he toppled backward.

The body I was in felt almost like the auto-aim in video games. How the game would pull you closer to the target. Helping you out.

This barbarian I was inhabiting must’ve had decades of practice with hand-to-hand and all kinds of weapons. Just the intention to throw a strike sent out the perfect one for the moment.

It was amazing.

Still, I shook my hand. I’d punched straight metal.

It hadn’t felt amazing.

Instinct had my body pulling for one of the downed orc weapons. I knew immediately that I could use one expertly with little effort.

But Jodi had said something very specific about my path. The more fun I had, the stronger I’d become. To me, killing an orc with its own weapon was an all right choice. Maybe a bit poetic.

But if I was going to have real fun, there had to be a better way. I closed my eyes for a moment and threw out a blast of focus.

Running my mind and thoughts along the battlefield looking for more metal. I’d intended to find the biggest thing and throw it around, smashing them.

But I had an even better idea.

I stepped forward slowly, relishing the power I felt in my body and the potential of the magnetism under my control. With greater effort I reached out and latched onto the armor of the orcs ahead of me, feeling the energy and how the metal hummed.

I threw five times as much effort into them as I had initially. They grunted in a heap as they flew backwards.

Their armor bounced along the ground, skipping on the wood like stones on water.

Their cries of pain and surprise were like music to my ears.

Then I made it to my goal. The very device that was to be my end.

The executioner’s blade.

I reached out and felt the housing where it met the latch. The orcs had built the deadly weapon with a handle.

That got me smiling.

As I worked on freeing it from the huge metal frame that held it, I realized that the crowd was cheering. Those who’d been smiling secretly before when the guillotine malfunctioned were now clapping and whooping.

Some of them had already scrambled to pick up the orcs’ weapons. A few were mid-combat though they hardly had anything to fight with.

I threw out another wave of focus, tightening in on the orcs’ axes and mauls and sending them straight into the ground. A second effort toppled them over. With that settled, I moved to get the real show going.

With the combined strength of my muscles and a wild pull with my magnetic powers, the huge blade exploded out of the wooden housing. I grabbed it with both hands and barely pulled my foot out of the way as the gigantic blade fell and sunk into the wood beneath my feet.

It was too heavy.

I pulled on the blade once more, grunting at the effort. The townsfolk were doing good work, but I doubted they had the killer’s instinct.

Killing felt as natural to me now as brushing my teeth. Just as constructive, too—maybe even more so because of how evil these orcs were. I’d have to finish this fight soon. Maybe pick up one of the downed axes. Even if it was less fun.

A battle-wild orc charged out from the road to my right. Where the town square ended. This one had no armor on and was carrying a big wooden club.

It was barreling right toward a small group of dwarves and what had to be elves. Long, elegant citizens with pointy ears. The monster had murder in its eyes.

Another classic orc.

Huge sharp teeth and dirty clothes. Not a goal in the world except for glorious combat.

I reached out as it closed in. Trying to find some metal to manipulate, to trip it up and save the people. But there was nothing for me to control.

The thing was wearing plain cloth rags and didn’t even have any shoes on. Whether that had been a conscious decision by the reinforcing orc, or dumb luck, didn’t really matter.

I shouted above the chaos, trying to warn the victims, but the courtyard was filled with the screams and slams of battle. Fists on flesh and weapons on armor. There was nothing I could do.

Maybe if I had more training I could’ve sent something flying out there to hit him, but with as little experience I had with my powers I wouldn’t get the projectile there in time.

Even if I did, I could accidentally hurt someone.

Just as the orc was about to swing and crush a poor elf’s neck, his own face burst into flames. Red and blue fire seemed to appear from nowhere.

I blinked a few times, then scanned the area. Looking for someone who’d maybe thrown a Molotov cocktail, or something.

All I saw was the beautiful woman in the leather apron. She was the only one locked onto the orc visually in the sea of battle chaos unfolding all around.

She had her hand held out, too. Palm open and forward. As if holding up a hand to stop someone.

Interesting.

Had that been magic of her own?

I wished that the innate knowledge of my body would speak up on the matter. But nothing came through.

A satisfied grin slowly faded from her face as the orc screamed and fell to the ground, rapidly burning. The woman seemed to sense me staring and locked eyes with me again.

This time she let her gaze linger on me, and I stared back, hungry for her attention. A thrill ran through me.

My heart quickened. I needed to know who she was—her name, how to find her after this.

Her head bobbed in a quick nod. Those golden eyes of hers glowed in the nearby light of the immolated orc. I gave her another open-hearted smile and readied myself for another cold reception.

Instead she smiled back and gave me a satisfied wink. I let the excitement at her response show on my face, then looked down at the blade I was trying to free from the wood beneath me.

I pulled again.

It wouldn’t budge.

I looked back up at the woman, unable to keep my eyes off of her. She was still looking at me, but her smile had faltered. She was chewing her lip.

When we made eye contact she shook her head and looked at the ground, then at the surrounding battle. Running over to scoop up the flaming orc’s battle axe as though it weighed nothing, she charged over to a group of elves going up against another fresh orc and buried the weapon in the base of the monster’s skull.

“Damn,” I said, impressed.

I definitely wanted to get to know her now.

Gorgeous and a fighter?

With some skill at magic?

My train of thought was interrupted by the groggy sounds of the battered orcs rising around me. I turned to see the orcs charging my way.

Three of them had gotten back up, and two more were making it up onto the stage. I threw a blind blast of power at them, watching them pinwheel from the force.

Could I make the blade lighter somehow? Was that possible?

Before I could try, the orcs came back for another pass. One of them was swinging his mace directly into my body. I ducked, hitting him with another blast

He went flying into another soldier. Two of the orcs who’d been coming at me smashed into each other, missing me as I’d changed position.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

They were pathetic.

Then pain burned in my shoulder and I rolled away instinctively, seeking my attacker. It was Drakku. He was climbing up from the ground beneath the stage.

All of his armor was stripped off. He was wearing only a plain white button-down long sleeve T-shirt and what appeared to be boxer briefs.

Gracie gets the groupies, and I get the naked orc.

Just my luck.

I staggered, instinctively throwing a blast of magic at him. But he’d stripped off all his metal. He snarled, swiping at me with his hands.

Brown blood was flowing down my arm where he’d caught me. The orc had been smart enough to figure out my advantage on the fly and nullify it.

Clever.

He came at me with a surprisingly disciplined attack, keeping his hands up to guard his face. Expecting me to come at him hand-to-hand.

I charged him, screaming.

Without thinking I dug my shoulder into his gut and wrapped a hand around his hip, lifting him bodily from the ground. Then I picked him up overhead and hurled him like a slab of steak off the back of the stage.

I expected the effort to exhaust me, but my body was vibrant and hungry for more action.

I wanted to fight all day.

Another quick scan showed the nearby orcs splitting into two groups. More than half were crawling back from me, terrified. Their armor was smashed to shit, and all of them were bleeding and bruised from my repeated attacks.

I strode up to the executioner’s blade. The thing was so big that it looked like someone had jammed a razor-sharp surfboard into the deck.

Even for someone my size, it would’ve been absolutely insane to try and lift. I could tell from manipulating it with my abilities earlier that it weighed at least two hundred pounds.

Leaning down to lift it with one hand, I poured focus into it, seeing if I could offset its weight somehow, to make it lighter like I’d been thinking. I imagined filling it with a light gas like helium, turning the wicked blade into a light and maneuverable tool.

As light as a regular sword, but longer than I was tall.

Surely there wasn’t any helium around, but maybe the intention would have the effect. Everything I’d tried worked so far, and if I managed to pull it off, it’d be an absolute blast to use.

All the orcs stopped as I pulled it from the ground with one hand like a broomstick. I hefted it up and turned it back and forth. With constant focus, the trick seemed to be working. The ones on the run increased their speed, scuttling off, emitting terrified screams.

“Where are you going?” I shouted, laughing. “You’re going to miss the headline act!”

Chapter 6-9

Two of the orcs stood their ground, baring their teeth before deciding to close in on me. It was absolutely suicidal, and the kind of behavior I’d learned to expect from their kind.

All the movies I’d seen, and the books I’d read, every role-playing game… This was what an orc was. Wild and red-eyed killing machines with no forethought.

Not some preening green guy verging on team-building exercise speeches.

The two of them got within my effective range and I brought the blade back with my right hand. As I did, the last rays of the setting sun glinted along its absurd length. It made the biggest one I’d seen in a video game look modest.

At its biggest end—near the sturdy handle I was gripping—it must’ve been four feet wide. It tapered down toward the far end, to four inches wide.

Instead of a sword, it looked like a gigantic straight razor that’d been clipped at a crazy angle. The shape alone made it an improbable weapon.

The weight made it impossible for any man to wield.

But I wasn’t a normal man.

I brought the gleaming metal through the two orcs as they reached me, using the strength of my new body to push the now ridiculously light weapon through.

The fine blade cut through the pair of them like over-steamed vegetables. It even chunked through their armored mid-sections with little difficulty. They slid into four pieces and heaped onto the floor.

Black blood pooled and sprayed from them.

I looked around, figuring out my next moves.

The civilians had managed to strip the weapons from the downed orcs, but a few were still on the move in the town square. I leaped from the stage and landed behind the nearest one—then decapitated him in one flick of the wrist.

As I approached another huge orc, it turned to face me. Terror was all over its face. It hardly had time to raise its shield before I sliced through it, killing the monster instantly.

As the blade penetrated the metal of the shield and armor, I sensed it chipping and denting. The fine point had been made to chop flesh and bone, not combat armor. It would still do for now, but the fact that I was able to sense such details in the melee was interesting.

I dashed over to the remaining pockets of combat—killing hold-out orcs still on their feet, and dispatching the ones that the citizens had pinned down.

Any hesitation I had about killing the creatures instead of taking them prisoner was removed every time I glanced at the pile of bodies at the edge of the town square.

Five minutes later the carnage had stopped. The air was thick with the scent of death and smoke. The citizens had been putting out the smoldering orcs with buckets of water. I’d expected the naturally repugnant smells to disgust me—but the body I now lived in only noted them before pushing them aside.

Workplace smells ignored as easily as an exterminator disregarding the harsh chemicals they used daily. In fact, the odors were almost satisfying.

Evidence of work done well.

Most of the people—which I decided to call the various fantasy creatures, for my sanity—in the square had cleared out. The ones that stuck around were the same that had battle wounds.

They worked in teams, dragging the bodies out of sight. Piling up the armor for some purpose. The woman with the orange hair I’d spotted was standing near all of it, picking through it and nodding along with an elf.

I stuck the point of my blade in a crack between two stones and then slowly released the focus I’d poured into it.

To my surprise, there was relief in the action. Earlier all the metal had felt full of potential, almost as if I’d be energized by manipulating it.

The magic—which I’d finally come to calling it—must’ve taken some effort though. Not a lot, but some.

I wasn’t quite sure how I was sensing it, but a slight fatigue had taken hold of me. Not physically, exactly.

My physical body felt warmed up and ready for more action. As if I was a powerful athlete who’d only run a few practice laps. Beyond that though—in what I had to assume was something like a mana pool from video games—there was a drain.

I’d have to keep an eye on it.

I had no idea how any of this worked.

Maybe taking it too far would make me vulnerable somehow.

I stood with my hand on the hilt of the makeshift sword. Breathing and admiring the pink and green hues of the last trails of the sunset.

The sunset’s color was one I’d never seen before. The wash of light played over the fields in the distance with beauty that exceeded any painting. I smiled.

“Not bad, Jodi,” I said. “Not bad at all.”

I glanced over at the woman again. I had to talk to her before she slipped away. It felt insane, but there was already a powerful connection between us.

I was absolutely certain that I needed to speak with her.

In the past I might’ve hesitated. Put it off for another day. I’d had plenty of girlfriends in my life. None of it lasted though. I was on the road too much.

They all wanted me to stay put.

That had never worked.

The random flings that came my way as a musician had been fun from time to time, but they eventually felt hollow. Tim—or Gracie Macks, not that it mattered anymore—had always brought his group of women with him on the bus.

He treated them like shit, because he was an asshole. As much as I hated nearly everything about that man, he never hesitated about anything.

There’d been times when I’d felt something strong. On all kinds of matters: work, play, romance. I’d always pushed it off to focus on making my music work.

I wouldn’t do that anymore. It didn’t matter if she shot me down. I just needed to talk to her. I’d always regretted waiting literally every other time.

“Hello!” the dwarf I’d made eye contact with in the crowd earlier said, waving up at me. He was comically short, and stout. “I’m Gartus. Mayor of Clontikus village. I’d like to thank you for what you’ve done here.”

He reached out a hand for me to shake. I looked down and realized mine were soaked in orc blood, along with some of my own.

It had a weird brown shade. Like tree bark.

My mom had been a nurse, and taught me a fair bit about first aid.

One of the first things you learn is that blood is red.

Human blood, that was.

He saw me looking at my own state and smiled it off, pushing his tiny arm out farther.

Maybe he hadn’t always been behind a desk. It was a lot of blood to just be ignoring casually.

“You’re welcome,” I said, feeling a bit lost. Shaking his hand in a half-daze. I hadn’t been thinking about what would happen after the battle. I glanced over at her again. She was loading the scavenged armor into a cart.

I expected it to be horse-drawn, but the wheels appeared to be made of metal themselves. The cart too, now that I saw it. A stream of what looked like smoke—or maybe even steam—puffed out of an exhaust pipe on the back of it.

I frowned, looking around. Now that I was paying attention I saw more tufts of the white vapor coming out of the surrounding homes and various metal objects scattered in the roads.

That got me scratching my head. I’d been calibrating this reality for the sort of classic fantasy setting.

Office orcs aside, of course.

Seeing this kind of powered technology sent me reeling a bit.

She looked to be getting close to finishing. I’d have to get a move on if I wanted to get a word in with her.

“We’ve got a bit of a problem, now, though. I hope you’re willing to help with it,” the dwarf said. I looked back at him. His face was still.

The wise eyes above his long red beard were intentionally emotionless. As we stared at each other I could tell that he was stressing about something. Hiding it well, but stressing nonetheless.

“Yeah, well—” I began, but she was leaving. I started jogging her way, forgetting the Mayor completely. I’d already done plenty for his people. It was fine to leave the executioner’s blade where it was, too.

No one else would be capable of lifting it. The orange-haired beauty hopped into the metal cart, and to my surprise it started rolling forward on its own.

“Shit!” I said, picking up my pace.

The street was more stone. This time a mix of gray, white, and even red. All the buildings in the area had broken windows and smashed doors.

Probably from the recent combat. Citizens of every fantasy type were in motion. Cleaning up broken glass. Hammering boards over the windows.

Of all of them, the elves seemed to be holding up the worst. Every dwarf I saw looked completely casual.

Everywhere I looked there was more and more metal and steam. It had to be steam. It poured out of chimneys.

Out of huge pipes that ran the length of the street. As I ran, the woman rounded a corner and one of the vents blasted a huge mist into my face.

I powered through, expecting to cough and sputter, but the stuff tasted like nothing.

A fine, clean mist.

Huh.

Good for them.

I passed a tavern on my left, which was filled with a hundred of those gray-skinned people. Except their flesh was now a bright angry red. They were all in intense conversation.

Some were even shouting, flailing their limbs in argument. When I ran past two of them pointed at me, giving me hateful stares. I furrowed my brow at them as I ran past, throwing my arms wide in a what the fuck gesture.

Whatever they were mad about, it clearly wasn’t enough for them to actually take it to the streets. Especially after what they’d seen me just do.

Turning back to look at the street, I noticed that she was gone. That cart of hers must’ve really been fast.

Damn.

There was only one path forward—a single road twisting through some scattered buildings that were getting smaller as the road went on.

There was a butcher’s shop with an elf cutting slabs of meat with what looked like a powered saw-knife, and a restaurant with fogged windows. The peppery smell of hot spices wafted out.

As I passed that one my body nearly jumped in the front door. I realized suddenly that I was very hungry.

But that could wait.

The idea of something to eat, and maybe a beer to wash it down, sounded amazing. I’d never been a heavy drinker, but a cool beer after a long day was a pleasure. The sun had completely set now, and darkness reigned for the moment.

Just as my eyes were adjusting to the dark, a line of bright red light lit the street. It looked almost like fire, but ran on the ground along the road. I threw a look over my shoulder and my jaw dropped as I saw the whole town illuminated in the same way.

It almost looked like the old-school neon signs I’d seen scattered around in old downtown areas. The sudden activation of the lighting perked the attention of my magnetic abilities and I automatically reached out to feel them.

I was surprised to find that the illumination came from long thin pipes that were pushing something hot and energetic.

I skittered to a stop at a fork in the road, looking either way. The town ran out, to my left, toward the sunset.

There were hoofprints in the road, and wagon tracks. In any other world I’d guess them for horses, but I’d already seen a billy goat guillotine technician.

So the clue wasn’t exactly a deadlock.

I laughed, shaking my head. This was all so insane. A part of me was still holding on to the idea that I was dreaming, but that was seeming less likely by the minute. No dream of mine had ever been this stable.

Sure, everything was completely nuts. I mean… A medieval steampunk town with office-obsessed orcs? That made no sense at all.

Still…

I was having a hell of a time.

Just as Jodi had said.

I was only getting started, too.

On the ground, in the other direction, the ground looked damp. I kneeled, placing my huge hand on the sparse stone that was slowly becoming dominated by hard-packed dirt.

It was wet. In the light of the blazing heat pipes, I could just barely make out drops of condensation. Almost like the water that came out of a car’s tailpipe back on Earth.

I went with my gut and broke into a sprint, heading away from the farmland. Taking the right path. Maybe that had been her car.

Or steam wagon.

Or whatever the fuck anything was called in this place.

The buildings began to really spread out and get big. By the town’s standards at least. Almost like barns. Huge three-story structures with more of those hot pipe lights.

Names like Aldred’s Tannery and Goron’s Stoneworks lit their fronts. I kept scanning, checking the road for more moisture.

Their odd choice of lighting wasn’t helping though. The nearby hot pipes seemed to be evaporating the only trail I had.

I ran harder, seeing how fast this body could really move. As my feet slapped the dirt I remembered I was barefoot, wearing only a loincloth.

I expected to feel cold in the night, but my body embraced the low temperature. At some point I’d have to figure out more. Find someone who could let me know who I was, and where I belonged in this world.

But that didn’t matter right now.

I’d found her.