“Well?” I asked. “Any objection to asking them for directions?”

After burying the treasure in its cave, we’d rushed to the grand entrance to Mirrakatetz at the top of the mountain, then leapt from Mount Mirrak into the air and began gliding north, between where the bridge to Veleth’s Rest and the pass to Aranar were located. We’d hit the band of smaller prominences that encircled Mount Mirrak, scaled them with Mighty Leap, then launched ourselves into the air again, flying into new territory.

After scaling a few more rises and gliding over a few sparsely-forested vales that were occasionally cut by a thin, narrow road or river, we’d spotted a small group of four people: two humans and two dwarves. The spyglass told us they were all level 6 or 7. And they were traveling at night—strange.

“Nope!” said Cuby. “We’ll lose altitude to do it, and they might just lie to us, but neither of those are all that consequential.”

“All right,” I said. I leapt from the cliffside and started gliding toward them. As we got closer, I saw that one of them, a dwarf man, was pulling a handcart stacked with two large chest. Beside him was an armored dwarf woman with a sword at her hip, and ahead of them walked the two humans: an old couple.

The woman’s hand went to her weapon as I landed some twenty meters ahead of them. All of them tensed—it was visible even from a distance. I felt a surge of sudden guilt. We had no False Identity spell. I hadn’t realized it, but it made perfect sense that every one of them was probably worried they were about to die. None of them would give us experience points, but there was always vice.

“We mean you no harm,” I said, not stepping any closer. “I just want to ask you for directions.”

None of them spoke. I looked at their cart, and the chests in it. Their belongings? I had a sinking realization. Were they refugees?

At last the old man in front spoke. “If you mean us no harm,” he said, his voice frail. “Then please—let us pass in peace.”

They see your level, said Cuby. They have to have some guesses as to how you got it.

That made a certain amount of sense. Time to be more direct. “My companion and I hunt killers,” I said. “Last night, Oromar’s Bastion came under attack. We killed the attackers, then hunted down those who had fled—they fled to Mount Mirrak, which we purged of demonic influence.”

I spoke loud and clear, and a faint echo of my words carried off the rocks around us. When the old man didn’t answer, I added: “For killing the murderers, we gained virtue—I can show you the abilities.”

A pause. “Show us.”

The old woman grabbed his arm and muttered something as I approached, then showed them a pane for each of my virtue level abilities. The human couple read these, and as they did the dwarves behind them stepped forward to join them, their expressions changing from suspicion to wonderment as their eyes scanned the system text.

“We’re hunting murderers,” I said slowly, when I judged they were almost finished. I shot a meaningful look at their cart. “So if disaster has befallen you because of players, you can tell me.”

The man shook his head. “We don’t know where they went.”

“It wasn’t our village,” said the old woman. “It was Karokon. Karokon was attacked—they say they fought the players off, but dozens died.”

“So you’re moving?” I asked.

“Aranar will be safe,” said the dwarf woman. “I know their headman.”

I let out a short laugh. “We visited. He’d ordered the guards to level when we first initialized. Seemed a strict sort.”

“He is.”

“You said you don’t know where they went,” I said. “But I may. Aranar is near Mount Mirrak—are there any other places like Mount Mirrak, dangerous places? A place near Karokon?”

“A dungeon, you mean,” said the man.

“Yes,” I said. “The players who attacked Karokon would have done so because they wanted power—and the next place to get it is the dungeon.”

“The Dark Harbour,” said the man. “Lurkhollow.”

“That sounds like the place,” I said. “Can you point us there?”

The old man looked between Cuby and I, then glanced past us, at the mountain we’d come from—perhaps realizing that we weren’t going to use the roads. “Darkhollow is infested with the dead,” he said. “They come out of the water. But that way,” he raised an arm and pointed behind them. “I don’t know for sure, but that way. There’s a wider river that runs through the mountains—a great tunnel that was once carved out of a natural cave. The water runs through it, that’s Darkhollow. Just follow the river.”

“Thank you,” I said, inclining my head.

“They’re like you,” the man said. “Chosen. They said they killed one of them at Karokon—that’s why they retreated. There’s one left.”

I took this in and nodded again, more slowly now. “I see. Thank you.”

And Cuby and I were gone. I was starting to get the hang of moving over the rocky slopes after so much time spent doing it. With no need to hide ourselves, I could even use my candle-flame for much-needed illumination.

Brandon flew out ahead of us in case there was anything we should be warned about while we traveled, but he didn’t spot anything. I spent some time going over my skills: now that we were in the second tier, I ranked up the Sneaking skill. Then I bought four of a new skill that had become available at level 10:

Primeval Resistance

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Type: Martial, Magic

Cost: 3

Choose Fire, Frost, Nature, or Lightning. Gain 10 Resistance to the chosen element.

You may take this skill once per tier for each resistance available.

Then I took an ability that I wished I had seen earlier:

Fast Assessment

Type: Talent, Lore

Cost: 8

You gain an instant understanding of any system text you come into contact with. You don’t need to read the system text; instead you gain knowledge of its contents as if you had already read it.

It would have spared me some time casting and recasting Moment of Mastery. Perhaps not worth the 8 points from a power-gaming perspective, but leveling up mid-combat was something that had happened more times than I could count so far.

I also bought both available ranks of endurance for 4 points each, giving me 200 stamina.

The last skill I chose, spending until I had 3 skill points remaining, was for writing spells:

Practical Application (Scribe)

Cost: 12

Type: Profession, Magic or Martial, Scribe

Requirements: Scribe Training skill.

You may create ability cards for any ability you know, as long as you can create cards at that rarity.

It wouldn’t be useful if we had a fight around the corner, but we’d have rest in a couple of hours anyway, and I could hopefully find the materials to copy some of my more replaceable spells back in town so that I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to them forever.

I only realized after I’d bought the skill that I needed to buy another skill to let me write uncommon spell cards. There was yet another skill that would make the process faster which might also be useful—but I’d have to buy them both when I’d gained more levels.

If the dungeon is already done, Cuby said as we crossed the mountains, they’ll have six boons from the sound of it.

Then lets hope they have no true sight, I said. At this point, a flock of level 11s and 12s won’t be able to hit us more than a fifth of the time, so it’s just the chosen.

There’ll be three to six of them, said Cuby. What’s the plan?

If there’s six of them, we’ll have to get tricky, I said. But they still won’t be our level. If there’s three—we load the investiture with Devour Magic. They’ll probably attack me, so we’ll wipe their buffs and I’ll tank with my heavy Mana Shield. You bait out any saves they’ve got, and then I’ll maybe hit them with a Twin Doublecharged Invert Hostility. But we’ll see—I can lay two triple-strength missile Rune Traps, now. Shame I’m so close to 16 but haven’t hit it, though—I’ve still got that Obliterating Beam spell.

Maybe we should see if we can call some wyverns? Level up that way?

Let’s see if we can find them first, I said.

My wishes were answered less than a half-hour later, when we crested a ridge and saw a broad band of running water gleaming in the moonlight below us. As much as the old man had expressed his doubts, the direction he’d pointed in had been almost exactly right—far to our right we could see where they water disappeared into a great black maw that had been carved from the mountain. But below us….

What do you think? Cuby asked.

A broken bridge bisected the river, its center having fallen into the water. On one side of it, a camp of the familiar mini-tents had been established, easily visible. But on the other side, further down the road and situated on a high outcrop, was a second, smaller camp.

I looked between the two camps, one perhaps twenty tents and the other about a dozen. Then I looked at the broken bridge. Enemies, I said. Fighting over the dungeon?

We should attack, then, said Cuby. Once they know our plans they’ll have cause to unite against us. She took out the spyglass and began to peer through it at the closer, larger camp.

Brandon alighted on the rock ahead of me. Shall I scout the other camp? He asked. I can report their levels, numbers, and anything else I see of interest.

Do it.

He flew away.

“Level tens and elevens,” Cuby whispered, looking through the spyglass. “I can’t see their chosen—but they’re unlikely to be higher than that. We should probably go for the smaller camp first. Fewer enemies means easier pickings.”

“We’ll see,” I said, my eyes on the tents below. “Let’s take cover and wait for our scout to return.”

“That’s the bird?” she asked.

“Yes. His name is Brandon.” An idea came to me. “When he gets back, we should check to see if I can invest him.”

“I see no reason why you couldn’t.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And an invisible, flying bomber who I can supply with spells from a hundred meters away is exactly the unfair advantage we need.”

Cuby laughed. “I don’t think we need any unfair advantage with these people. They clearly haven’t done the dungeon.”

“And their loss is our gain. You find the chosen yet?”

“Nope. How good a missile can you invest?”

“We’re at eight seconds,” I said, checking my abilities. “So one supercharged, plus a fragmented spell that I’ll load into him as soon as he looses that one.”

“If he dies, what happens?”

“You don’t know?”

She shrugged. “I’m guessing you can summon him again.”

“That’s my guess too,” I said. I frowned. “I really hope that’s true. He’ll have a thousand-absorb Mana Shield on him, in any case.”

“This is a good idea,” Cuby said, grinning. “I like bird bomber. As a concept, I mean. We can pick off all their priests so they have no miracles to cure your Invert Hostility.”

I can report, Brandon said suddenly.

I glanced at the sky, but of course I didn’t see him at night. What is it?

Thirteen of them, he said. Level 11 and 12, all. They have a level 10 chosen with them—an elf named Hallah. Apart from her, all their members are humans or dwarves.

Humans or dwarves. I nodded in understanding as Brandon landed on the rock in front of us. “We can’t attack the smaller party first,” I said.

Cuby looked put-out. “Why not?”

“Because they’re the people who fought off the attack,” I said. “They’re NPCs.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Well, that makes sense. What do you want to do?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I want to go talk to them.”