The walk to the Mediators’ temporary base was a short one, which I was grateful for, since the man leading me didn’t seem to care for talking. He led me to a somewhat familiar looking house and pulled open the door, walking inside without even caring to wipe off his boots.

I spent a moment trying to scrape off my own mud-caked shoes on the front porch, but quickly remembered that I didn’t need to. Focusing inwards, I summoned mana to the surface of my body and let it escape me in a short burst. With my eyes closed, I imagined the mana enveloping the dirt and rainwater that covered my body, dissipating it into nothingness.

When I opened my eyes again, I was clean and dry.

I was also alone. Apparently the man hadn’t bothered to wait around for me to clean myself.

“Marten,” an unfamiliar voice said from deeper into the house. “What are you doing back here?”

“I brought the kid,” the man - Marten, I suppose - replied.

“What? Why?” the new voice asked.

“Do you seriously not remember?” Marten asked.

I felt a little awkward walking into a conversation about me, but I felt like waiting would just make things worse. I gingerly peeked my head around the corner.

Marten had his back towards me, seemingly ignoring my presence as he leaned over someone who was sitting down at a dining table. Somehow, my brain focused more on the fact that I suddenly realized that we were the Mayor’s house, recognizing it from the short visit I had with Lena back when I first arrived in this world, before I managed to realize that the person Marten was leaning over was a Goblin.

The Goblin glanced at my direction, and I felt tempted to look away, guilty at having killed a small handful of his kind, even if it turned out to be Demons, but it didn’t even seem like he was looking at me. His gaze was unfocused and glassy, and I wasn’t sure if he even registered my presence.

“Shit. Looks like the concussion’s getting worse,” the Goblin said, chuckling momentarily before he grasped at his head, wincing in pain.

“Concussion?” I asked.

The Goblin’s eyes shifted slightly towards me, supporting the idea I had that he hadn’t known I was there.

“Yeah,” Marten answered on his behalf, then frowned. “You don’t happen to have anything for that, do you, kid?”

For some reason, the question caught me off guard, like I was being called on in class after being caught not paying attention. “What do you mean?” I asked automatically, before quickly shaking my head once I actually registered what he said. “Do you mean a healing spell?”

Marten shrugged.

“Marten,” the Goblin said, his voice stern for a moment before he turned towards me and gave me a friendly smile. Or at least he tried to. He ended up staring somewhere over my shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Jamie. You don’t need to use your magic to help someone you don’t even know.”

“You damn idiot,” Marten said. “Just let the kid heal you up.”

“Never show Otherworlders any weakness,” the Goblin snapped. “Even the civilians know this. We have to maintain the illusion that his power isn’t particularly abnormal, or he might let it get to his head.”

As Marten slapped a hand to his face, I decided that I probably wasn’t meant to hear that.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

Marten lowered his hand and looked back at me. “Why do you want to know?” he asked back, suspicion clear in his voice.

I shrugged. “No particular reason?”

Marten frowned. “Stoney.”

I felt my face twitch at the name, but tried not to let my reaction show past that. “Well, I guess now that we’ve been formally introduced, I can use my magic to heal you, Stoney.”

“Your magic has that as a restriction?” Marten asked.

“No,” I said.

“Then why say that?”

I stared at him until I realized that he was being serious.

“Well. I mean, he said that I don’t need to use magic to help someone I don’t know, and y’know. I know him now. I mean, kind of. So yeah. I can use magic on him now.” I trailed off into a stammer before I averted my eyes from Marten’s scrutinizing glare, feeling my face growing hot from embarrassment.

“You know he didn’t mean that literally, right?” Marten asked carefully, like he didn’t want to offend me in case I did.

I blushed even harder.

“Yeah, I know,” I said, with a sigh that I hoped sounded more exasperated than humiliated. “I just wanted to do a bit.”

“A what?” I didn’t know whether I felt better or worse at the fact that Marten sounded genuinely confused.

I closed my eyes, and ignored the way a wave of heat washed over me for a third time. Deciding that I was done with the conversation, I summoned mana to my palms. “Heal,” I said, as I expelled my mana, pushing it to Stoney.

When I opened my eyes, Stoney blinked a few times, and though he looked dazed, like he was just waking up from a dream, he was still much more focused than he was a few seconds ago.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He blinked a few more times and rubbed his eyes before looking at me and nodding.

“Thank you, Jamie,” he said.

“No problem,” I said.

From the corner of my eye I saw Marten still frowning at me with his brow furrowed in thought, but thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation from before.

“That was a powerful spell,” Marten said. “You sure you got enough mana for the communication spell?”

“Yeah?” I said, a little hesitantly. “I mean, I guess I can’t be sure until I try, but nothing I’ve done so far has tired me out.”

“Are you sure about that?” Marten asked.

“Maybe?” I said, unsure of what else I could say. Marten’s frown deepened, making me think that I gave the wrong answer, but before I could correct myself, he let out a quiet grunt and shook his head.

“Forget I asked,” he said, before turning to Stoney. “You want the leadership role back, now that you’re not stupid?”

“You can keep it if you feel like you would be better suited for it,” Stoney replied, completely ignoring the second half of Marten’s comment.

“Fuck no. It’s yours,” Marten said, patting his shirt and drawing out his pipe. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Stoney sighed, and shook his head as Marten walked around me to leave.

“Oh and by the way.” Marten paused at the door, though he didn’t turn around. “The kid knows about how we were trying to kill him.”

Marten’s footsteps echoed in the silence that he left us in. I watched his retreating back as he left the house, not because I was interested in watching him leave, but because I wasn’t sure I was ready to face Stoney.

“For the record, I’m not actually that mad about that,” I said, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. I slowly turned around, like I didn’t want to make any sudden movements and accidentally scare the Goblin.

To my surprise, Stoney looked a lot calmer than I would have expected, casually resting both of his palms on the table and giving me a warm smile that didn’t quite suit his monstrous look. Though I supposed he wasn’t quite a monster, was he? Was I being racist?

“That’s a relief,” Stoney said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “There isn’t much we could do to stop you from taking vengeance on us if you chose to.”

I felt the urge to say that I wouldn’t kill anyone, but at this point, I was tired of hearing myself say it. Besides, Stoney hadn’t actually suggested that I was a murderer.

“I thought you guys were supposed to pretend like I was nothing special,” I said, trying to deflect the topic to something else. “Isn’t that what you said?”

Stoney winced, but recovered quickly and let out a good-natured laugh. He scratched at the back of his bald head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for the things I might have said while I was suffering a concussion. Thank you again for fixing it,” he said, with an appreciative nod.

“Don’t mention it,” I said, nodding back.

Stoney gave me a curious look before motioning to the seat across the table from him. Realizing I’d been standing this entire time, I sheepishly took a seat.

“Look, Jamie,” Stoney said, folding his hands in front of him and giving me another disarming smile. “I’ll be upfront with you. Now that you know our organization’s mandate, there is little benefit in lying to you. We would only be increasing the risk of upsetting you. In fact, despite the fact that I do not have the authority to make this decision, I would be willing to bet that the Mediators will be ordered to leave you be for the rest of your natural life to lower that risk as much as we possibly can.”

I nodded. “Marten mentioned something like that.”

“I would’ve assumed so. As infuriating as the man can be, he does have a sensible head on his shoulders,” he said with a small laugh, before fixing me with a piercing stare. “And that begs the question, Jamie. Despite knowing that the Mediators have attempted to kill you in the past, you’re offering to help us. Why?”

I shrugged.

“I want to fix the bad reputation that Otherworlders have,” I said, summarizing my new goals as concisely as I could. “Marten asked for a favour, and I thought it would be a good first step if I agreed to help.”

For the first time in our conversation, Stoney seemed to be caught off guard. The easy smile had slipped off his face, replaced by a look of utter confusion, before he managed to gather his wits and smile at me once more.

“That certainly is an interesting goal,” Stoney said.

“You don’t think I can do it,” I said.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do it personally, Jamie. I simply think it’s impossible,” Stoney said, with a sigh. “The Otherworlders have done an immeasurable amount of damage to our world, and it’s not easy to forget. Countless lives have been destroyed by the actions of Otherworlders and the survivors won’t be quick to forgive.”

Stoney frowned and a brief flicker of a pained expression flashed across his face before he smiled once again.

I considered ignoring it, but for some reason, I didn’t like the thought of pretending like I hadn’t noticed obvious hints and signs just so I could avoid an uncomfortable discussion. It felt so tiring.

“Are you a survivor?” I asked, realizing halfway through my question that it might be incredibly rude, but asking it anyway.

Rather than becoming angry or upset like I might have expected, Stoney just gave me a curious look.

“I am. My entire tribe was slaughtered by an Otherworlder known as the Worldly Farmer.”

He said it casually, like he was explaining to me what he ate for breakfast that morning. I felt like I should be showing more of a reaction, like gritting my teeth in remorse or pounding the table in sympathetic anger, but Stoney’s relaxed smile made it difficult for me to feel much besides a dull numbness.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“Thank you,” Stoney replied. “That means a lot.”

There was the beginnings of an awkward silence between us, but Stoney sighed and shook his head before it could stretch out for too long.

“Well, now that I think about it, who am I to say that you shouldn’t try to mend the bad reputation that Otherworlders have?” he said, letting out a noise that sounded somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “The impossible goals are the best ones to chase.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I gave a noncommittal hum instead.

Stoney laughed at that.

“You really are just a normal brat, aren’t you?” he said.

I didn’t know what to say to that either, so I just hummed again.

Stoney gave me an easy smile, before it morphed into a strange grin like he just remembered something and he couldn’t quite decide if the memory was irritating or funny.

“You’re gonna be a weird one to name, aren’t you?” he mused.

“What?” I said, completely confused by the random statement.

Stoney laughed and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just something I thought, but Otherworlders are generally given a moniker, usually a few weeks after they’ve arrived in our world. I was just wondering when we would give you one.”

“What’s a moniker?” I asked.

“A title, or a nickname if you prefer,” Stoney explained. “Like the Breaker, the Chaotic Paladin, and the Glass Artisan, to list a few examples. Every Otherworlder has one.”

I managed to suppress the urge to suggest that I could be called ‘Nightblade,’ along with the flush of embarrassment that came with the memory of my cringey OC. I shook my head, as if that would help shake the memory loose, but it didn’t seem to work.

“How about just calling me Jamie,” I suggested quickly, before my brain could think of more of the characters I’d dreamed up when I was twelve.

“All Otherworlders have a moniker,” Stoney repeated with another laugh, as if he could see my inner turmoil. “But I suppose we can hold off on naming you for the moment. We’ll just have to introduce you as Jamie when we introduce you to the Founder.”

“You’re introducing me to him?” I asked. “I thought I was just giving you mana so you could talk to him.”

Stoney shrugged. “It would be a good start to fulfilling your new goal. If you want to do anything related to Otherworlders, the Mediators would have their hands in it. No harm in starting a friendly relationship now, is there?”

“No,” I said, nodding to myself as I thought about what he was saying. “I guess there isn’t.”