“What are Owin’s crimes?” Sanem asked. The knight was on her feet with a hand pressing Potilia back onto the bench. The clerk struggled under Sanem’s strength.

“Killing heroes outside the Great Forest.” Sergeant Kyoya didn’t take his eyes from Chorsay as he answered. His neck was craned back to even see the giant’s face.

“The Great Forest is a long way from here,” Chorsay said.

“Word came from the Izylia Unity Force. All the heroes were killed by that hammer. Crushed. A slaughter. I didn’t come here to negotiate with you career heroes. I’m here to arrest the goblin.” The sergeant pulled out a length of chain and waved Owin closer.

Chorsay held a hand back, signaling Owin to remain still. Of course, Owin had no intention of letting himself be taken by the strangers.

“Interfering with Security Regime business is its own crime,” Kyoya said. He noted Chrosay’s clenched fist. “And striking an officer is punishable by death.”

“What do you think a strike from me would do?” Chorsay asked, voice low.

Kyoya flinched back. “I brought backup. This goblin is dangerous and can’t be loose in our city. It shouldn’t have even escaped the dungeon. Why interfere?”

“Owin is more than a mob,” Sanem said.

“A mob that killed heroes, just like it did inside the Great Forest.”

“Since when is self defense a punishable crime?” Myrsvai asked. The man took a moment to stand, using his staff as support. He walked forward, limping slightly with each step. His left foot thumped loudly on the wooden boards.

The sergeant finally broke his glare with Chorsay to look over Myrsvai. Kyoya took a second, looking at Myrsvai’s missing arm and down at his metal leg. “The infamous Maimed Magus.” Kyoya chuckled. “How far you’ve fallen from Magna Regum.”

Myrsvai’s eyes flashed red as a grin spread across his scarred face. “I haven’t fallen anywhere, Sergeant. Now, please inform me if killing in self defense is a crime in Stelsodo? Or for that matter, Izylia?”

Kyoya’s expression flattened. “No.”

Myrsvai took another step closer. His prosthetic foot thumped on the ground as he leaned toward Kyoya. “Owin, a hero, was attacked and defended himself. Isn’t that right, Owin?”

“Yes,” Owin said, barely a squeak. If a fight broke out, he swore the whole building would explode. Myrsvai alone was stronger than anyone Owin had ever fought, and others in the room were even more powerful than the magus.

“And why would I believe that? A mob escaped the dungeon. Just because Izylia let him slip past through a portal doesn’t mean he’s a hero.”

Chorsay stepped aside and gestured to Owin. “What’s it say?”

Kyoya’s index flashed in front of his eyes. He scowled. “Why would you let a goblin join? Are you trying to finally kill the Nimble Hogs, Chorsay?”

“He’s one of us. He’s not going anywhere.”

“A killer can’t be trusted, and goblins know nothing but killing. Look at him now, holding that monstrous weapon. How can you be comfortable around a creature like that?”

“Every single hero has killed,” Myrsvai said. “Some may have only killed mobs, but most—” He shook his head slowly. “You know the truth. Greedy, arrogant people die every day in the dungeons to heroes simply protecting themselves. Am I wanted for the people I have killed who tried to rob me? Is a hero using a Power 7 spell wanted for the sacrifice they make? Will you arrest me for killing the man that took my leg? Tell me, Sergeant Kyoya, where is the line?”

Kyoya eyed Chorsay and backed away from Myrsvai. “If he missteps once in Atrevaar, I’ll be back.”

“We’ll be here,” Chorsay said.

Kyoya started to leave but stopped at the door. “If Izylia wants to pursue, I will assist.”

“Get out,” Myrsvai said.

Chorsay crossed his arms and waited for the sergeant to leave the dining hall. Kyoya’s minions followed him out, soon leaving the Nimble Hog offices silent.

“Thank you,” Owin said.

“Ha.” Chorsay clapped his hands, creating a boom. “You will soon get to work and pay us back.”

Owin met Myrsvai’s eyes, which faded back to yellow. The magus nodded, then walked out without another word. The others filed out, going back to their respective tasks, until only Chorsay, Sanem, and Potilia remained.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Chorsay asked.

Sanem sat back down and looked in her tea cup, which was empty. “Nope.”

“Po?” Chorsay asked.

Potilia, who was preparing more tea in the kitchen, spun around fast enough to splash water from the kettle. It steamed in the air and luckily only splashed on the ground.

“No clients for at least the last week. Void Nexus has had a few to the Subterranean. Raif should be back in the next day or two.”

“Oh.” Chorsay scratched his face. “Fine.”

Everyone was calm again so quickly. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Owin sat across from Sanem as Potilia poured more tea for Sanem. She had found herself a bowl, which she filled with tea.

Chorsay stayed near the door. “If Izylia wants to pursue the murder charges, we’ll be in trouble.”

“No,” Sanem said. She gently blew on her tea. “Without a witness, it will be by word, and Owin being . . .” Sanem looked right into his eyes. “. . . that . . . will help his case. Now, Owin.” Sanem leaned on the table. Her dark eyes bore right into his.

“What?”

“Was it self defense?”

Owin nodded once. “I promised Artivan to not let anyone stop me. They wanted to kill me for being a goblin, so I stopped them instead.”

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“It won’t end there. Void Nexus will try to get revenge. You took out some of their fledglings.”

“No,” Chorsay said. He lumbered over and sat heavily on the bench beside Sanem.

Potilia reached over and poured a cup for Chorsay. Her eyes were wide as she watched and listened.

“Veph won’t bother over a few reckless heroes. If they can’t win a fight they started, she doesn’t want them. That’s bad for business.” Chorsay drank the whole steaming cup without flinching again.

“Be brave. Be quick,” Owin whispered.

Chorsay watched him as he poured himself another cup of tea.

“It’s something Artivan said to me. I don’t want to cause problems for you. I can find somewhere to hide. Siora will know I’m here.”

Chorsay grinned. “Let her come. Artivan entrusted your care to me, and I will see this through. You’re one of us now, whether you like it or not. That means you’ll need to work. Nobody survives by sitting around, though the way your eyes are darting and that bounce in your leg tells me you don’t plan to stay still for long.”

“I’m not strong enough.”

Chorsay’s index flashed as he looked over Owin’s attributes again. “Odd, really. I don’t know how to estimate your level.”

“Without potions, I won’t get stronger.”

“No, but you can get better,” Sanem said. “I assume you’ve had little time for training.”

“Artivan showed me some things.”

Chorsay folded his hands on the table. They were huge. Big enough to grab Owin’s head in a single one. “When it comes to heroes, people often speak of talent. We don’t believe in that here. Nobody starts as an expert. Everything is learned. Good and bad habits alike. Even those who might seem like prodigies to some are really those who are willing to put in the work and learn. Nobody gets far fighting monsters if they aren’t dedicated. Survivors put in the time to learn.”

“About what?”

Chorsay scratched his face. “Everything, I suppose.”

“Techniques, mobs, dungeons,” Sanem said. “Even the other hero companies. Knowledge is power.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Chorsay said quietly.

Sanem rolled her eyes. “I didn’t make it up. Knowing what to expect in a dungeon will only ever help you. Same with knowing the hero companies. Void Nexus is only one of the big three, and there are dozens throughout Verdantallis.”

“I was told the Nimble Hogs are the smallest,” Owin said.

Chorsay grunted. “That’s probably true. Most are in it for the money and grow until they’re profitable.”

“Stop telling people we aren’t profitable,” Sanem snapped.

Chorsay shrugged. “Train with Sanem. Tell Po if you need anything.”

Potilia shook her head.

“Tell Po if you need something we already have. I’m guessing you’ll want some buffs, but those will have to wait. We’re out and they’re far from cheap. Prove yourself. Show me you can survive, and I’ll personally buy you some potions.”

Owin nodded. Nobody was ever going to hand him things. He had earned all of the buff potions up to now, and he would continue earning them himself. Nothing came for free.

“Now, you probably need a room. We are running low, but—”

“I don’t sleep.”

All three Nimble Hogs turned to stare at Owin. His head was already barely above the table so all they could see were his giant green eyes, pointed ears, and purple hair that was still matted with blood. He looked like a little figurine of some hideous doll.

“You don’t sleep?” Sanem asked.

“I don’t need to. I haven’t yet.”

“And that’s been several days?”

Owin nodded. “Artivan slept. I didn’t.”

“What . . .” Potilia leaned across the table, eyes narrowed. “What about food?”

“I don’t need to eat, but I can. Or I have.”

Chorsay grunted. “This is, uh, not what I was expecting.”

“All living things sleep. Even rats.” Potilia’s eyes darted between Owin’s huge ears. “Even rats.”

“I’m not a rat.”

“Clearly.”

“Po, shut up.” Sanem sighed. “Look, we know you’re odd. That’s why you’re here. The Nimble Hogs are all a little odd. Look at Chorsay.”

Chorsay was staring off into the distance. He grunted, but did nothing else to acknowledge Sanem.

“What’s odd about him?” Owin asked. “He looks human.”

Sanem laughed. “‘Human’ is a complicated term. Plenty of Shard Carriers don’t look human. But Chorsay? He’s a damn giant.”

Chorsay grunted again.

“Everyone is tall,” Owin said quietly.

“Well. Okay.” Sanem sighed. “I have a tough question for you. I know Chorsay is thinking the same thing.”

Another grunt.

“What do you want?”

That question wasn’t new. It was the main thing that had been occupying Owin’s mind for so long. Back on the second floor, he had wanted to help people. Even the mobs. He wanted people to stop feeling scared.

But mobs were complicated. Some weren’t worth saving. They would respawn the exact same as before. Their fear was fake and brief. They came back to life never knowing the horrors they had experienced half an hour before. Owin had been the same. He didn’t have a single memory of dying or killing before the intelligence buff was spilled on him. None of that had stayed with him.

On the isolated floors, the mobs acted more independently. Perhaps he would try to save them again, even on a normal floor if there was a clear enemy. But he hadn’t felt guilty over fighting both the hobgoblins and the ogres. It didn’t weigh on his conscience like Artivan did.

As odd as it was to think about it, there was something different about humans compared to mobs. The weight of actions was more impactful. Things mattered more. Siora and Nikoletta killing Artivan changed all of the Nimble Hogs’ lives. Owin killing the ogres changed nothing. They respawned and continued drinking acid or whatever it was they did.

“Before I left, Artivan told me it’s about how strong I am here . . .” Owin poked a finger against his head. “And here.” He poked his chest. “He told me to show the world how strong I am.” Owin took a deep breath. The others silently watched. “When Siora ran away in the hobgoblin village, I wanted to chase her down and finish killing her. Artivan wanted mercy. He wanted to let them learn and grow to become better people.”

“How did that make you feel?” Sanem asked.

“Angry. Scared.”

She nodded.

“I knew they wouldn’t let me go. But it wasn’t just me. She called Artivan a hog like he was disgusting.”

Chorsay’s face was stone, but his voice as he spoke was almost a growl. “Void Nexus heroes are vermin. Nothing more. They’re tainted by Veph Veriss and her twisted ideas of what a hero should do. Never listen to a Void Nexus hero.”

“Chorsay’s relationship with Void Nexus is complicated.” Sanem waited a moment, watching Chorsay. “So is ours as Nimble Hogs, I suppose.”

Chorsay grunted.

“When they chased us into the cave, I wanted Artivan to run with me. I reminded him of his plea for mercy.”

“Mercy does nothing to protect our loved ones,” Chorsay said.

“Artivan told me that sometimes we need mercy, but sometimes we need to make people wish they never met us.”

A faint hint of a smile pulled on Sanem’s face. “And right now, Owin, what do you want?”

“To make Siora and Nikoletta regret meeting me.”

Sanem pounded her fists on the table. “Time to train.”

“Okay.” Owin jumped to his feet. “I’m missing most of my mana from specters. Is that going to be a problem?”

Chorsay chuckled softly. “Yes, that is a problem. There’s a mender we know down the road. Sanem, will you?”

She pounded her fists on the table again. “I was just getting excited. We’re training the moment we get back, yeah?”

Owin nodded eagerly. “Yeah.” Owin scratched at his head, focusing on the mana bar in the bottom of his vision. “Is it really that easy to get it back?”

“A high level mender can heal any damage, including apparition,” Chorsay said. “Menders are one of the most sought after classes for that reason.”

“If Artivan didn’t have apparition damage . . .”

Chorsay grunted. “There’s always going to be thoughts like that, Owin. Even now, in my old age, I think back to decisions I made when I was fifteen, some when I was in my twenties, and plenty in my sixties. Even some recent choices.” He sighed. “Nobody ever lives without regrets. Go get healed and work off your thoughts. Some exercise will do you good.”