Eik reviewed his notes as he took the first sips of the tea, hoping today’s poison would be one of the mild ones.

Nope, the sour, almost citrusy undertones left no doubt that it was the viciously toxic reaper’s root. He sighed. If that’s what he’d have to deal with today, then he didn’t have long.

Trying not to rush, he set the teacup down on his homemade, wooden work table and went to his wall of drawers. The ingredient labels had been removed and most of the drawers had been replaced in different slots.

He forgot he’d done that, and now he wished he hadn’t gone quite that far. Sweat was making its appearance on his forehead when the shop chime jingled, a man of bear-like stature stepping inside and stomping his boots on the old doormat. Eik couldn’t spare the time to look away as he riffled through the contents of various drawers, his breath becoming shallow and his muscles beginning to tighten up.

“Aren’t you going to greet your customer?” the stranger boomed, now joined by two others in front of the store counter.

“I’m just a tiiiiny bit busy right now. I’ll be with you in a moment, good sir,” Eik answered in a strained voice that almost came out as a whisper. In the periphery of his darkening vision, he saw the massive man cross arms over his chest that resembled tree trunks more than human limbs, huffing a dissatisfied grunt. Eik pulled out three drawers and emptied their contents onto his worktable as the men watched with explicit curiosity.

With a swift, forceful elbow chop, he cracked the shell-like bulb of a dried purple flower, spilling small, black seeds everywhere. Hands shaking, he scooped them into a mortar and crushed them to powder with the fervor of a desperate man. The powder went into a tall, thin beaker, followed by a murky green liquid.

The big man’s brows furrowed in puzzlement as he leaned over the counter to get a better look at the spectacle. “You don’t look so good. What are you even doing?” he demanded.

Barely able to draw in a proper breath, Eik quacked out the word. “Dying.” The man was left staring. Eik upended the contents of the beaker into his mouth, forcing himself to swallow the potion in several spasmodic motions.

When the torturous symptoms didn’t immediately subside, he feared he’d made a mistake in the mixing process. The two men accompanying the big one looked about ready to jump in to help, but their leader seemed more fascinated than worried at the scene. Luckily, Eik began to feel the relieving effects after only a few short seconds.

He plopped back into his chair and took several deep, calming breaths, sensing his body relax as the shaking waned into nothingness.

Standing back up, Eik approached the counter with a smile as he wiped his forehead with a towel. “What can I do for you?”

They looked at him dumbfounded. “What were you doing?” one of the subordinates asked.

“Just keeping myself on my toes,” Eik answered cheerfully, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

“Give me three orders of antidotes and a couple for pain, and make it quick,” the large man demanded briskly as he tossed some coins on the counter, leaving behind the little performance they had walked in on. Behind him, the two subordinates exchanged glances of utter confusion.

A pair of gauntlets covered in metal plates hung from a thick leather cord wrapped twice over the leader’s shoulder, clinking noisily against the studs on his armor when he moved. His blonde hair was cropped short. The three men were obviously Awakened.

Dressed in leathers and fancy armor with weapons adorning their waists, their outfits left no doubt regarding their occupation either. Adventurers. Hunters. Cloud-nosed, humble bragging snobs. Whatever term you preferred, they were customers. Customers with money.

“Antidotes for what?”

“What?” the man asked, brow furrowing.

“I mean, what manner of toxin do you expect to run afoul of? Hectona? Xaraxis? Venom or contact poison? I offer a discount for beginners, if that applies to you.” The quality of their equipment said it didn’t.

“Do we look like beginners to you?” he barked, the absence of aggressive spittle surprising Eik. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Can’t say I do, no,” Eik admitted, taking a closer look at the three men. On second glance, one of the others had been by more than once before. Both of the subordinates seemed to be exceedingly familiar with the leader’s buffoonery.

“We’re the Rock Fists! And I’m Rock Fist Bart.” The pride that practically shone out of the leader of the Rock Fists was not mirrored in Eik’s own demeanor.

“What’ll it be?” he deadpanned.

“I, uuh… We—” Bart glanced back at one of the men behind him with a not-so-subtle tilt of his head.

“Well, I usually get this for our standard preparation,” the man said and stepped forward to hand over a folded slip of paper. His weapon of choice was an enormous bow with a quiver of remarkably long arrows strapped to his waist. The third man had a sheathed sword on his belt, the shape hinting at something akin to a saber. Eik glanced over the list, which included about a dozen more entries than he had expected. He caught the eye of the archer, who smiled and shrugged. “You can just ignore the rest.”

With a nod, Eik made his way to the storage room in the back, mumbling to himself as he walked. The storage was nice and cool, which was perfect for his stock of antidotes, painkillers, localized numbing agents, purgatives, and numerous other potions.

“And make it quick, will ya?” Bart called from the front room. The guy was a right pain in the ass, but a paying customer is a customer you treat well. “Will ya?” Bart repeated for good measure, and Eik’s willingness to adhere to his own customer service policies was ground down further.

When Eik emerged from the back room with the order, Bart was leaning on the counter, fingers on one hand tapping the wood, while the other incessantly scratched at a knot in the surface. He kept this up as Eik began to prepare the order for packaging. Careful and proper preparation was of utmost importance when it came to substances which one expected to save lives.

“Stop fidgeting, please,” Eik said without looking up. “I’m concentrating.”

The sound stopped, followed by momentary silence.

“Is he always this impolite to the customers?” Bart asked, presumably to his subordinates. Eik could almost hear the noncommittal shrugs in response.

“So you’re only acting like this towards me? Is that what this is? Do you have something against my family?” the beefy man half-shouted and slammed his fist into the countertop, rattling the whole affair like a wine-date in the back of a speeding cargo van and sending dust towards the ceiling in a cruel testimony to Eik’s negligence of the broom.

When his fist came away, it revealed a crack so massive that the biggest surprise was that fact that the wood hadn’t simply split in two. Eik couldn’t help but wonder if this was Bart holding back his strength.

“Bart, come on…” the archer tried nervously, the tremble in his voice serving to further underline the unequal hierarchy in their relationship.

Eik, who had forgotten all about the products now scattered haphazardly across the table in front of him, had no real recourse if this half-witted brute decided that he was offended enough to make a scene. His first instinct had been to bemoan the vicious defilement of his nice countertop—it was walnut, after all, but other, more pressing problems were readily apparent. If an Awakened possessed enough power to cause such ravages with a single fist, then they had more social leeway than basically anyone else. This guy had to be D-rank at least.

Eik held up his shaking hands placatingly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Hey, I really don’t know who you are. I don’t know your family either, but judging by your impressive strength, I’ve got a few guesses. I don’t want any trouble, I promise.”

“You think th—”

The pleasant dingeling of the shop chime echoed, the opening door providing a hopeful Eik with a view of perceived freedom from this pickle.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I heard a bang in here, Eik,” a voice began—the voice of an angelic savior. “Did one of your things explode again?” Eik had never been happier to see Olivia’s face.

She stopped with the door handle still in her hand when she noticed the awkward silence that now reigned supreme in the little apothecary. Everybody was looking at her, and nobody was saying anything. Eik hoped that, maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could get some kind of telepathic message through to her. No such luck, it would seem, as she slowly looked away from Eik.

She took in the archer first, then the swordsman, before moving on to Bart, on whom she lingered for a moment. She squinted, albeit slightly, as her brain attempted to conjure any memories regarding this man. When she gave up on that, her gaze fell on the pit in the countertop, the dust still settling. At this she frowned and looked back up at Eik.

“What’s going on here, Eik?” Her tone had done a complete one-eighty.

“It’s, uuh—“ Eik began, but was cut off by Bart’s booming voice.

“Olivia Valkiri, the famous B-ranker? What a pleasure to meet you! Truly, an unrivaled pleasure,” he rambled, stepping in and clasping everything up to her wrist in a vigorous greeting, rather than offering his hand for her to take.

The expression on Olivia’s face revealed that she was feeling less than impressed and only something slightly above disgust. Judging by her demeanor, she had likely already sussed out the general theme of the situation she had walked in on.

“Eik?” she repeated, ignoring the ongoing handshake.

“You know this guy, Ms Valkiri?” Bart blurted, oblivious to the reception of his advances. “He doesn’t know how to treat people like us. How about I introduce you to some of the experts I have on retainer? They’re leagues above this chump!” His self-confident grin faltered when she effortlessly tore her hand free of his grasp.

Adopting a nonchalant posture, she sauntered up to the countertop to get a closer look at the carnage wrought by the fist of Rock Fist Bart, whom Eik still couldn’t for the life of him recall ever having heard of.

“He did this?”

Wordlessly, Eik nodded, her presence reassuring him despite his heart still running amok in his chest.

“You did this?” she reiterated, this time to Bart.

A considerable portion of confidence had left Bart’s face. “Yes, well… He was being rather disrespectful towards me. After all, we aren’t peers.”

Olivia made a show of glancing down at the hand he had arbitrarily shaken. “Then what about the two of us?”—A lazy finger pointed back and forth between them—“Are we peers?”

Rock Fist Bart drew in a sharp breath and some of the color drained from his face. Reflexively he hid his meaty paws behind his back like a scolded child. “I— N-No, of course not. A D-rank and a B-rank are not equals. Never.”

Face devoid of emotion, Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Can I then assume that I have the privilege of doing this,”—She gestured at the crater in the wood with a thumb—“to that?” She stabbed a finger at the much larger man’s chest.

“I-I was just trying to—”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do! Eik is very dear to me, and if I catch you harassing him again, or not paying for that damn countertop, I swear I’ll make sure you know firsthand that my threats aren’t empty!” she hissed. “Oh, and another thing! Eik was the first to successfully treat envenomation by the Hectona-8. Your so-called “experts” couldn’t hold a candle to him, and you wouldn’t be here to do business if you didn’t know that as well!”

“I-I—”

“Get the hell out of here!” she ordered. All three men immediately complied with the order, the brave Rock Fist Bart pushing his subordinates out of the way to be the first one through the door left open by Olivia.

“Hey, Mr. Archer!” Eik called to the spindly man before he could make it outside.

The archer froze with his hand on the door handle, shoulders pulled up to his ears as if they would protect him against anything a legitimate B-ranker could subject him to. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned back to face Eik and Olivia. “Ye-Yes?” he asked, wringing his hands.

“You forgot your order. I already took your money,” Eik said as he held out a paper bag of medicine he had finished preparing to the archer, gesturing to the coins Bart had thrown when they first arrived.

The archer ran up and snatched the bag from Eik’s hand. “Thank you… And I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eik said casually as he looked through his wallet for the change.

“Keep the change!” the man called as he fled, his legs carrying him away so fast that his voice disappeared into silence before he had finished the sentence.

Eik stood silent for a few seconds before he collapsed backwards into his work chair, breathing a deep sigh of relief. “That was damn near the most frightening thing I’ve ever experienced. I thought he was gonna punch me with that slow-cooked ham he calls a fist.”

“Eik…” Olivia said, massaging the bridge of her nose. “I told you that you would get into trouble if you don’t learn to keep your mouth shut sometimes. A big mouth was easier to get away with back when the world was normal.”

Burying his own head in his hands, he sighed again. “I know, I know. Some people just make it so… difficult to shut up, you know.”

Olivia chuckled. “That I do. But I can at least punch back.”

“Alright, alright, missy. Can’t you see I’m already down for the count? I mean, look at my damn countertop! It was walnut, for god’s sake!”

At this she laughed wholeheartedly.

“So anyway,” he said, getting up. “the usual, I presume?”

“Yes, please!” she smiled.

He went to the storage room to get an array of items. Some of it was for Olivia herself, but being the competent leader that she was, Eik knew that she handed out medicine like candy if she thought it could save a life, or even just a limb. She’d always get enough healing spheres to eat them like snacks for a week. After all, Awakened with healing abilities were few and far between—far fewer than the injured needed.

“Any changes recently?” he asked as he returned to the front room to prepare her order.

She retrieved a small, flat wooden plaque from her leathers and scratched an imperfect circle into the surface with a fingernail, finishing it off with two dots in the middle. She held it up for Eik to see.

“Nothing’s changed,” she said as the dots and circle faded, only to be replaced by neat script seemingly carved by an invisible hand.

[B-rank — III]

“My rank hasn’t changed from third stage B-rank. It’s been over fourteen months. I think I might have hit a plateau,” Olivia pouted and replaced the plaque on her person as the script faded, leaving the flat surface as immaculate as if she had never touched it. “Recently, I’ve felt… confined, I guess. Like a balloon in a peanut butter jar.”

Eik couldn’t help but snort. “I’m not sure you can complain about plateauing at B-rank, Olivia. Do you know what happens when most of us mortals try to scratch that pattern in a piece of wood?”

She side-eyed him. “Nothing.”

“That’s right,” he answered and began to stack her order into a paper bag. “And do you know what would break if I did what Sock Fist Bart just did to my beautiful, formerly pristine walnut countertop?”

“Your hand.”

“Yep.” He handed over the paper bag while she dug around her bag for payment.

She accepted the bag and started towards the door. “My mom said to invite you over for dinner. She says she misses you, and that she would like it if you’d come by as often as you did when Torbjørn was still alive.” Her face grew somber. Eik offered a light smile.

“I’d love t—"

“Please!” The door flew open, a crunch of wood advising Eik that he might have to schedule a repair of the door frame in addition to his walnut counter. Before Eik could even register what was happening, Olivia’s hands had burst into flames as she prepared to face a threat, her packaged order dropped on the floor.

“Please, I need an antivenom quickly!” The new arrival was a man with a woman slung over his shoulder. A nasty gash was visible along her shoulder blade. The man was not unhurt himself, his cheek covered in fresh blood, but he was at least conscious. “Don’t just stand th—”

He stopped short when he caught a better look at the flaming woman. “Olivia?”

“Harry? What’s going on? Is that Tracy?” As quickly as they’d ignited, the flames were extinguished as Olivia rushed to the unconscious woman and helped her gently onto the floor.

“We’re being overrun,” Harry stated in a sober tone. “They’re everywhere.”