Atrevaar appeared before Owin as if he had simply been standing with his eyes closed. Pain faded so quickly it felt as though it never even happened. Owin looked at the map Vondaire had given him, finding the X that marked the portal. There was a small arrow pointing in the direction Owin was now facing.

He looked forward and to the right where a building was circled on the map. Most of the area made little sense on the map, but the portal area was directly in the center of the city, just like in Oriathria.

With the map's help, Owin spotted a small wooden building sandwiched between larger, complex brick buildings. An image of a creature covered most of the wooden building above the doorway with the words “Nimble Hog” printed on the creature. Owin assumed it was a hog, though he had never seen one before.

The portal circle was much bigger than Oriathria with eight portals in the circle. Identical archways led to stairs in the four cardinal directions, each with a guard. These guards weren’t dressed in suits. Instead, they wore tight-fitting clothing under segmented armor.

It was sunny out, as if the whole night had passed in a second. Owin squinted, checking the sky. The sun rose in the west, as if it was early morning. He looked back at the swirling colors of the portal. Nothing appeared when he used Examine. There would be another time to figure that out.

Owin checked all of his belongings, making sure nothing had vanished within the portal, then ran through the archway, past the guard, and into the Nimble Hog Hero Company. It was silent inside other than Owin’s steps on the creaking wooden floorboards.

A staircase led to a second floor with a hallway that overlooked the lobby, which consisted of a single bench and a counter. It took Owin a moment to notice a young woman standing behind the counter. She leaned on it with her head resting on her hand with a book open inches from her face. A light hung from the ceiling above her, humming quietly.

Citizen

Potilia Ennia

Berserker

Nimble Hog Hero Company

Owin cleared his throat, standing a few feet in front of the desk. If he walked right up next to it, he would be way too short for the woman to even notice him.

Potilia sat upright, nearly tossing her book off the counter in fright. Her blonde hair fell into her face, causing her to flail and brush it aside. By the time she stopped moving, her face was bright red and heavy breaths lifted her shoulders.

“Is this the Nimble Hog Hero Company?” Owin asked.

“Uh . . . yes.” Potilia leaned on the counter, eyes narrowed. “What are you?”

“I need to see Chorsay.”

“Oh, uh . . . no.” She leaned farther forward, looking nearly straight down at Owin. “Are you a child?”

“No.”

Potilia hummed and sat back down. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not.”

She nodded. “Sure. You’re just ugly?”

Their interaction had lasted seconds and Owin was already terribly annoyed. The way she looked at him spelled out all of her uncertainties. She clearly wasn’t able to hide any emotion.

“Where is Chorsay?”

“Sanem? Raif? Are one of you back there?” she called.

Heavy footsteps grew close before a door opened right behind Potilia. A woman stepped out with a wide helmet that almost looked more like a hat with a golden crest running down the middle. It was golden and shone even in the dim light. Her black hair stuck out from underneath the helmet in wide curls.

“Someone bothering you?” the woman leaned on the counter beside Potilia. “The fuck is that?” She disappeared, and after some brief shuffling, appeared around the counter with a spear. “How is a goblin outside?”

“Use Examine,” Owin said.

Her index immediately flashed in front of her eyes as she glanced over his attributes. “Hm.” She lowered her spear and fully looked over Owin. Her eyes snapped to the Winged Sword.

Owin shifted, pulling the sword to his side. “I need to see Chorsay.”

“That sword . . . Where did you get it?”

“A friend.”

“A goblin with the Winged Sword.” Her jaw clenched before she sighed. “What did you get yourself into now, Art?” she asked quietly. “Po, show him to Chorsay.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Potilia squealed and ran around the counter. “Okay, this way.” She ran up the stairs, continually glancing back at the woman in the center of the lobby.

Owin slowly followed, but not before using Examine on the woman.

Hero

Sanem Kusvera

Knight

Nimble Hog Hero Company

Level: 36

Strength: 176

Constitution: 203

Dexterity: 118

Intelligence: 168

Wisdom: 103

Charisma: 111

“Artivan’s shield was a gift from you,” Owin said as he followed the nervous Potilia up the stairs.

Potilia squealed again as Owin talked. “Hurry up!”

“Po, calm down,” Sanem said. “What do you know of his shield?”

“It saved my life more than once.”

Sanem simply nodded.

Potilia rapidly knocked on a door at the end of the hall. “Sir?”

“Stop knocking and open the damn door,” a deep, gruff voice said, slightly muted by the door.

Potilia opened the door, bowed her head, and scurried past Owin, nearly tripping down the stairs as she hurried.

“What is wrong with you?” Sanem asked quietly.

Owin ignored the others and stepped into the small office. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered every wall except a small window that was open, letting a slight breeze blow through.

A huge man sat behind the desk. He was bent down, picking through a pile of books on the floor. “Take a seat,” he said without looking. His hand bumped another pile of books, knocking the whole thing over. The entire room was covered in them. With how massive the man was, Owin didn’t understand how he maneuvered at all in such a cramped space. Compared to the man, even the desk looked tiny.

He wasn’t dressed like any hero Owin had seen. He was wearing some loose clothes with no sign of weapons or armor. There was a chest under the window with books stuffed on top of it that was large enough to hold equipment, but Owin guessed it actually held more books.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, finally sitting up. He had old, tired eyes that immediately reminded Owin of Artivan, though this man looked significantly older. His hair was as black as the doorways between floors, and his beard was nearly twice the size of Artivan’s.

If anything, they looked like brothers.

“What—” The man cut off his own sentence. He leaned forward. “A goblin, sitting here in my office. You can talk?”

“Yes,” Owin said. He stepped forward and set the Winged Sword of the Swift Behemoth on the desk along with the note from Artivan.

Chorsay stared at the sword for a long, silent moment. He ran his hand along the sheath and sighed before letting his eyes snap back to Owin. “This sword has a long history.”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“I know.”

The old man took the note and unfolded it. His eyes moved a few times, back and forth over the short sentence.

He’s a good one.

Trust me.

- Artivan

“He wanted me to remind you that you owe him one.”

Chorsay let out a breath, almost laughing, as tears welled. He cleared his throat and folded the note again. “As far as I’m concerned, I owe him more than one. Tell me, little goblin—”

Owin flinched at those words. He took an involuntary step away and felt his face twist.

Chorsay’s index flashed before his eyes. Even after it vanished, he sat quietly, watching. Owin took a deep breath. All he could think about was his last view of Artivan. The huge yellow shield, the blood covering the old knight. There were better memories.

“I may be a goblin, but that doesn’t make me less of a person.”

Chorsay met Owin’s eyes.

“Artivan told me that. He’s the only reason I’m alive.”

The old man held up the folded note. “I would have given my life for this man. Even if I had a hundred lives, I would give them all for Artivan Morro. And if he gave his life for you, Owin, then I will do my best to honor the best man I have ever met.” Chorsay let out a long, slow breath as he rested both hands on the winged blade. “Tell me your story. I am sure it won’t be easy, but I do need to know who and what you are. I will admit, I do want to know for selfish reasons as well.”

Owin set the Thunderstrike Maul down and sat himself in a chair. His legs were immediately overwhelmed with the exhaustion of running so far for so long.

Chorsay eyed the hammer as his index flashed again. “Interesting weapon.”

Owin nodded slowly. He understood why Chorsay needed the story. He wanted to know what happened to Artivan. What led Artivan to sacrifice himself for a goblin? Even Owin couldn’t really understand, no matter how many times he thought about it. Artivan was beloved while nobody even knew Owin. The few that were aware of him wanted nothing more than to slaughter him.

Chorsay held up a finger before Owin could begin his story. “Potilia, can you bring us some tea? And Sanem, gather everyone in the dining hall.”

“Yes, sir,” Potilia shouted, far too loud. A door slammed open as she scrambled in a panic again.

Sanem sighed loudly, barely audible from the floor below. “It will take a few minutes to find everyone.”

“That’s fine.” Chorsay stood and stretched. “I figured you would rather tell the story once.”

Owin nodded. Having to tell every detail to more people would get annoying. It felt like he had already had the conversation enough times. How many more people would ask what he was?

“Before I can allow you to go to our dining hall, I’ll need you to become a Hog.”

“What?” Owin’s thoughts went blank. He looked up at the giant man. “What do you mean?”

“Artivan’s favor. He would have asked me to protect you, and the only way I can truly do that is for you to join the Nimble Hog Hero Company.”

Invitation from Chorsay Eoghet - Leader of the Nimble Hog Hero Company to join the Nimble Hog Hero Company

Accept?

The words appeared just like he had used Examine or when the Sovereign One appeared. He could focus on Yes or No, highlighting the word when his attention was on it.

“What is this?”

“As the company leader, I can invite anyone who is not affiliated to join. It acts somewhat like a spell. I know, it’s a little wordy. Unfortunately, when you become the leader of something, it puts it on everything. Use Examine on this.” Chorsay pulled a knife from his belt. Owin hadn’t even realized the weapon was there.

Transference Dagger

Unique Master Magical Item

Bound to Chorsay Eoghet - Leader of the Nimble Hog Hero Company

The Transference Dagger is a weapon that cannot directly deal damage. Instead, it transfers something from the wielder to the target, or the other way around. This can be elemental damage, sustained injuries, emotions, thoughts, etc. Anything but material items can be transferred.

Formed from the beak of a Divine Eagle at the peak of Mount Roemerrak.

Note: Magical item does not vary by user

“I can’t escape the title,” Chorsay said jokingly when the index faded from Owin’s eyes. “Everywhere I go.”

The invitation immediately filled Owin’s view again.

“You don’t even know me.”

Chorsay held up the note from Artivan. “This tells me everything I need to know. I don’t second guess Artivan. Never have, and I never will.”

“If I want to leave the company—”

“You can separate yourself any time you choose. If you get confused, Potilia can always help you, assuming she isn’t panicking.”

“Why is she like that?”

“She means well. She, uh, has some confidence issues.”

“Your tea is done!” Potilia’s shout was so loud it sounded like she was directly next to them.

Owin flinched and looked around. She was nowhere to be seen.

Chorsay let out a deep laugh. “When people don’t train for classes, it can be difficult to guess what they’ll be assigned on their fifteenth birthday. For some, it seems random. For others, it fits their personalities perfectly. Potilia is a damned berserker, and she has the lungs to match. Imagine a War Cry from her.”

Owin focused on Yes until the whole thing vanished.

A new tab has been added to your index.

Owin opened his index and found the Hero Company tab right at the end. He opened it and only found Chorsay’s name.

“What’s the tab do?” Owin asked.

“It shows your current job as I’ve written it, including what you have earned. You can look back at any job you’ve done with the company. For militaries, it works mostly the same but has more names in the commanding officers section.” Chorsay stepped around his desk and awkwardly moved past Owin, trying not to bump into him. “We better hurry before that tea gets cold. I don’t think either of us want to see Po’s bad side.”

“Why does it say citizen when I use Examine?”

“Everyone in the world is a citizen until they step foot in a dungeon, then they are forever marked a hero. You need a special skill to see the attributes of a citizen, so I’m sure it only gave you the bare minimum information. Right?”

“Yes.”

“She’s a higher level than you might think, but her stats aren’t suitable for a berserker. Not anymore, at least.”

Owin followed Chorsay down the stairs, behind the counter, and into a long, but narrow room. A kitchen was off to the side with all kinds of appliances. Potilia stood in the threshold between the dining hall and the kitchen, cradling a teapot in her hands. Five other people, including Sanem, sat at the tables, watching Owin.

“This is Owin,” Chorsay said, gesturing. “He has quite a story, and I thought it would be best for him to tell it one time to all of us. Then we can ask our questions and move on.”

“He’s already one of us?” Sanem asked.

Chorsay walked over and sat across from Sanem. He barely fit on the bench. Other heroes scooted over to allow room for the huge man. Once he was settled, Chorsay slid Artivan’s note to Sanem. She unfolded it, read it, and handed it back.

“Okay.”

Potilia set a few mugs down, pouring tea into all three. Her hands shook, spilling some tea on the tabletop. None of the heroes paid any attention, focusing instead on Owin. Potilia set the pot down and handed a mug to Owin.

“When you are ready,” Chorsay said. He took a mug from Potilia and whispered his thanks.

She grabbed her own mug and found a spot to sit. Her eyebrows were raised as she stared at Owin, waiting for him to start.

How odd was it that she was a berserker? Owin thought of Miklos, the bloodthirsty berserker who had pursued Owin over two floors. How was Potilia the same class as that maniac? She smiled, took a drink, flinched, and almost dropped her whole mug.

“It’s hot, Po,” Sanem said.

“I know,” Potilia said through her pain. She moved to take another drink, but Sanem placed her hand on Potilia’s forearm.

“I first became aware when a wizard spilled an intelligence buff on me,” Owin began.

The first line alone got a few looks of confusion from the heroes Owin didn’t recognize. Chorsay nodded for Owin to continue. He took a drink of his tea and seemed to not even notice the intense heat.

“I fought a few heroes who tried attacking me. I killed them all. Then I went to the next floor.”

“Hold on,” someone said.

Owin stood on his toes to see the person talking behind Sanem. It was an older man with yellow and red hair that hung in tangles. A thick yellow mustache covered his upper lip and his eyes were yellow with vertical pupils.

Hero

Myrsvai Ryllsion

Magus

Nimble Hog Hero Company

Level: 48

Strength: 104

Constitution: 249

Dexterity: 168

Intelligence: 159

Wisdom: 306

Charisma: 103

Myrsvai raised his one arm, drawing all eyes to him. “You’re talking about the goblin caves? Floor one?”

Owin nodded.

“I assumed you were that alchemist’s goblin at least. The mobs on the first floor are completely mindless.”

“Obviously not,” Sanem said.

Myrsvai let his arm drop. “You’re not a familiar? You’re an actual mob?”

“I’m a hero,” Owin said.

“Let the boy speak, Myr.” Chorsay’s deep, gravelly voice instantly hushed the heroes.

Owin nervously continued his story, slowing down to tell more information as Myrsvai asked more clarifying questions. The story moved onto Kidibose and the Malignant Spirit, up to the third floor where Nikoletta’s team attacked Owin.

As soon as Artivan’s name left Owin’s mouth, he saw the entire room shift uncomfortably. Had his story really portrayed how horrifying it had been to have the humans chasing him? Did they understand what Artivan did by placing himself between Nikoletta and Owin?

“Sounds just like him,” Sanem said.

Chorsay nodded, a grin on the giant man’s face. “Always found himself in difficult spots.”

“Pretty consistently,” Myrsvai said. “It may have been more of a matter of placing himself in difficult spots, not finding himself there as if by accident.”

Everything was still fresh in his mind, making it easy to recount everything Owin had been through. He shared the events without going into any details of how he felt. That didn’t seem important to the story at the moment. These strangers didn’t need to know how scared he had been when the labyrinth was flooding or when the lich had taken control.

Owin talked for hours. He covered everything he could think of, especially when it related to Artivan. The room was silent when Owin finished his story, ending with the moment he stepped through the exit door. Only Chorsay looked at Owin while the rest looked at the table or ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Owin felt it too. Even saying the words twisted his stomach. He had left Artivan to die.

A bang shook the walls, quickly followed by a dozen sets of heavy boots. The bell by Potilia’s desk rang a few times impatiently.

Chorsay stood, stretching out his back. “We’re back here,” he said loud enough to be heard in the next room. The old man looked at Owin. “Stay where you are.”

Owin simply stared up at the giant of a man. Veins rippled through Chorsay’s forearm as he clenched his fist. Owin looked around the room. Nobody else moved. Chorsay was ready for a fight, yet nobody else seemed the least bit concerned.

A man covered in heavy plates of armor threw the door open carelessly, causing it to crash against the back wall. He stepped in, already glaring at the heroes sitting around the tables.

“Sergeant Kyoya,” Chorsay said, voice low.

The sergeant turned to Chorsay, who towered over him. Kyoya’s eyes immediately darted to Owin. “This mob is a killer, Chorsay. He’s coming with us.”

Chorsay took a step toward the sergeant. Owin knew the only weapon on the giant man was the Transference Dagger, which couldn’t do damage on its own. Although, he obviously didn’t need a weapon to intimidate.

The sergeant rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I’m not asking, Hog.”