"Do you remember where you were when you learned that the world was going to end? Maybe you didn't really believe it. How about the moment when the first System notification appeared, confirming that you had fifty days before the apocalypse?"

The screen faded from black to a view of a meadow, somewhere in the mountains, considering the snow-capped peaks in the background.

The camera panned and centered on a tall man with stylishly tousled black hair and warm green eyes.

"It didn't exactly come as a surprise to me," he said with a broad smile. "I've lived under the System for my entire life," He leaned forward and winked, "which is coming up on nine hundred years."

"But, I'm not here to talk about myself, which," he sighed theatrically, "is a shame, because I love doing that. For those of you who are unaware, my name is Yorrick Wrathsbane, High Seat Emeritus of the Warlocks Guild, President of the Terran Confederation, and I came to Earth from Thayland." His grin twisted into a smirk, "I guess I just can't help talking about myself, can I?" He shook his head. "Then again, my other cardinal sin is Pride." He raised his hands in surrender. "I know, I know, we're the evil empire," he sighed.

Yorrick gestured, and the camera pulled back as another man appeared beside him. Blonde hair cut short, piercing blue eyes, with a stern expression across handsome features that carried the echo of exhaustion.

"Luckily, the person I'm here to talk about it is beyond reproach," Yorrick continued. "While some of you may have been deprived of the opportunity to get to know about me, I doubt any of you haven't heard of Robert Whitman. The man who traveled to another dimension and returned to warn you of impending disaster. You all know his name, but you don't know his story." Yorrick's smile took on a touch of sorrow.

"I was asked by the Church of the System, The Old Guard, and the Endless to add my voice and my nation's resources to a project to teach the proper techniques for successfully delving Dungeons," Yorrick began. "I agreed because, despite the labels attached to my nation, we want nothing more than to see every single person live long, happy, productive lives. Those groups have gathered hundreds of memories of people being taught to delve by Robert Whitman, and they've used a complex ritual to create a sort of hologram of him that can interact with others and instruct them."

Yorrick shook his head in seeming wonderment. "I'm amazed at what they've accomplished, and honestly, outside of the Karcerian Empire's own methods, which I'm obviously biased towards, I can say that Robert Whitman is the best Shepherd I've ever witnessed. Their plan to bring a lot more Bob to the world can only be a good thing, but," he cautioned, "I don't think anyone should make an uninformed decision. So, in exchange for my nation's assistance, I stipulated that you know what you're signing up for."

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"Oh, he's just gonna love this," Amanda sighed, not taking her eyes off the screen.

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"Bob wasn't raised in the best environment," Yorrick began, and the camera blurred before focusing again, now showing Yorrick walking down the hallway of a clearly destitute apartment building.

"He grew up in Watts, in this apartment building," Yorrick explained, coming to a stop in front of a door and pushing it open, revealing the wreckage of an abandoned apartment. He walked instead, gesturing as he spoke. "This one-bedroom efficiency was his home for the first eighteen years of his life. He slept in the pantry," Yorrick pointed to an elongated closet without a door. "I wish I could tell you that despite the obviously cramped living conditions, his home was full of laughter and love, but we don't lie."

Yorrick waved his hand, and the empty apartment shimmered, then shifted. A battered folding table and two cheap plastic chairs appeared. A row of repurposed milk crates appeared against the far wall, loose pieces of dirty clothing and swatches of filthy fabric hanging out of them. Industrial hallway rugs had been raggedly cut and were nailed above the single window to act as window shades.

"This is where he grew up," Yorrick said sadly. "His mother suffered from addiction and, at sixteen, wasn't prepared to be a single mother. He often went hungry and was discovered eating out of the dumpsters at the local elementary school. It was more common for the apartment to be without electricity than for it to be working."

Yorrick turned and walked out of the apartment, stepping through the door as the camera blurred again, coming back into focus to reveal a non-descript hallway lined with lockers that could have been found in any inner city school in the United States.

"This is where Bob went to school," Yorrick explained as he continued walking. "I suppose it isn't surprising to learn that he didn't have any friends," he sighed. "No clean clothes, intermittent water for bathing, and being the only fair-skinned blonde no doubt drew the derision of his classmates." Yorrick pushed open a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, revealing a library. "He found solace here, in the library. Here, there was not only electricity, which meant that the lights worked, but it also had a small measure of climate control, and more importantly, it held worlds that a frightened, lonely boy could escape to."

Yorrick had continued into the library, and he reached down and pulled a book off the shelf, flipping it open to a seemingly random page before holding it up to the camera.

It was the Complete Illustrated Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs and the page it had opened to was dog-eared and creased, showing the image of UtahRaptor.

Looking down at the book, Yorrick spoke almost idly, in a lower tone. "How complicated is the weave of fate," he murmured. "How many threads had to align? So many moments where events might have otherwise conspired," he shook his head. "Billions of lives hung on the gossamer strand of fate that tied him so loosely to the world that showed him nothing but contempt."

Yorrick looked up, his green eyes alight with an eldritch glow. The camera lost focus again, then snapped back into place. A middle-aged woman was behind the counter, leaning against it, reading a novel. She looked up as a skinny boy, dressed in oversized, dirty clothes, perhaps eight years old, slipped through doors and quickly moved to the shelf, pulling the Encyclopedia from the shelf and clutching it to his chest as he scurried around the shelf, disappearing behind the shelves.

The image shifted again, and now Yorrick stood in a classroom, looking down at the blonde-haired child hunching over his desk as he read from a battered textbook before carefully writing in an even more abused notebook. The rest of the class was clearly talking to one another, although there was no sound, while the teacher at the front of the class stoically marked papers.

"Bob will be the first person to tell you that he isn't that smart," Yorrick said. "He'll claim that the only reason for his academic success was his willingness to, as he phrases it, 'Put in the work.'" He shook his head. "He's wrong, by the way," Yorrick disagreed. "Yes, he put in the work, and no, he wasn't gifted in any of the subjects that he studied. That doesn't mean that he isn't gifted."

Yorrick sighed. "I think we can skip the rest of his school years. Suffice it to say that while he learned to come to school early to take a shower and to do his laundry after school in the same shower, he never overcame the stigma from his earlier years."

The camera shifted again, and now a more recognizable Bob was walking across a stage to receive his High School diploma. "He should have been the valedictorian," Yorrick said flatly. "I'll leave the explanation of why that didn't happen to others. This, I believe, was the last time Robert Whitman ever looked to another person to validate his choices and celebrate his successes." He gestured to the crowd, where parents hugged their children, then nodded towards Bob, who was descending the stairs, his eyes searching the crowd, his expression falling for a moment before becoming one of flat disinterest.

Another shimmer and Bob was walking toward the UCLA admissions office. He was wearing pressed khakis and a long-sleeved white collared button-down shirt. His hair was neatly cut, and he might have cut an imposing figure were it not for his posture. His shoulders were hunched, and he kept his head down, eyes constantly scanning the area. Bob pulled up short as he was approached by a tall young man with light brown hair in jeans and a t-shirt, an almost equally tall, willowy young woman at his side with raven black hair. They introduced themselves and handed him a flyer.

"Some of you might recognize Dave Coffman and Amanda Rigosi," Yorrick smiled sadly. "This was the first time they met Bob when they were hunting for more players for their Dungeons and Dragons game. It took nine years, and a trip to another universe before Bob was able to accept their overture of friendship."

A cascade of images flowed across the screen. Bob in class, Bob working on a shipping dock, Bob studying in the library, Bob getting on a plane, taking off from Los Angeles, and landing in Chicago. A flash of a smile on his face, transforming it briefly as he set the plate with his name on it at the front of his desk.

The flow of images ceased as another scene snapped into focus.

Bob, now easily recognizable, was walking hesitantly into a small cage where a large fluffy cat with a half dozen kittens lay at the back. He knelt down in the opposite corner, leaning back. One of the kittens, looking like a ball of grey floof from which a pair of bright blue eyes and four paws protruded, stumbled over, latching on to Bob's jeans and climbing up onto his lap before looking up and unleashing a tiny, adorable 'meow?'

The image stilled as Yorrick walked into the cage, looking down at Bob and the kitten.

"Again, I have to wonder at the chain of events," Yorrick mused. "Bob came here because he thought he saw a mouse, and he positively abhors rodents, a legacy of his childhood where they infested not only the building but, more specifically, the apartment he lived in. He was looking for an adult cat, but due to budget cuts, the shelter was being shut down, and they'd already put down almost all the animals. Two weeks later, and he would have had to go somewhere else." He knelt down, peering at the ball of fluff on Bob's lap. "I'm almost one hundred percent certain that this was it, by the way," he shook his head. "This was the moment when every single soul on Earth was saved because, without Monroe, I don't think Bob would have bothered."

He stepped back, and the scene continued, showing a hesitant Bob giving the inquisitive kitten a gentle pet and offering the floofball a treat.

The scene shifted back to the mountain meadow.

"I'd love to show you more Monroe and Bob, but as you might have noticed, these scenes are coming from other people's memories, not his," Yorrick explained. "I'd like to show you what happened at Fermilab, but I couldn't find a single person willing to share their memories, and in fact, I could only find one person who would even talk to me. Amber Crestwell, the last in a series of people who stole Bob's research, was unwilling to share her memories without Bob's permission, which we couldn't obtain, as at the time of this production, he has been off in another universe, and unreachable." He smiled gently. "To be clear, Amber was willing to allow her memories to be shown in their entirety if Bob agreed, despite those memories showing her in a very unfavorable light. Bob has made it clear that he no longer holds any animosity toward her."

The camera shifted again, and Yorrick was standing in a hallway. "This is where it happened," Yorrick said flatly. "Amber changed part of Bob's code and was running the experiment on the particle accelerator here at Fermilab when Bob was walking down this hallway, having tendered his resignation, fed up with being used and maligned. The accelerator suffered from catastrophic failure, and the energy released was enough to force Bob through the dimensional membrane of Thayland's universe." He shook his head. "Make no mistake, Bob did not arrive safe and sound. He was so badly damaged that the System was forced to rebuild more than half of his body in order to keep him alive. It did so in order to pillage his memories and knowledge. Bob was left unconscious in a dark cave, kept alive only by the System constantly regenerating his flesh."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"He needed that regeneration because the cave wasn't empty. It was a naturally formed Dungeon where rats were appearing. Considering his revulsion of them, he could have scarcely woke up in a worse situation," he sighed. "Thidwell, the head of the Adventurers Guild in Holmstead, sent two of his most reliable adventurers to investigate the spike in mana that accompanied Bob's appearance on Thayland. Harvest Eilodon is another figure you likely know, although Eli Vickers might not be quite as familiar. They found Bob two days later, in a fugue state, beating rats to death with his bare hands. Sadly, Harv and Eli are with Bob wherever he is, so I don't have their memories of the event. What I do know is that they returned Bob to Holmstead, where Thidwell's second, Kelli, utilized telepathy to communicate with Bob and implanted the language into his mind, allowing him to communicate."

"It was at this point, that Thidwell, Kelli, Harv, and Eli became aware of Bob's devotion to his cat," Yorrick smiled. "Anyone else that found themselves in these circumstances might have suffered from a bit of a mental break, and it would be hard to condemn them for it. Bob, on the other hand, was entirely, ferociously even, focused on saving Monroe, who had been left in his apartment with a fresh bag of cat food and a water fountain. He spent two days waiting for Harv and Eli to become available to shepherd him in the Dungeon at Holmstead. During that delay, he spent his time focusing on what he would need to save Monroe. He determined that it would require the Arcane School of Summoning and the Arcane School of Dimension. Armed with that knowledge, he began his career as an adventurer, delving into the Dungeon under the supervision of Harv and Eli."

The screen shifted again, and now Yorrick was sitting behind a desk in a classroom, leaning back in his chair, his expression pensive. "You'll recall that earlier, I had said that while Bob wasn't gifted academically, he was gifted. It was here that Bob's gift was first revealed, although I don't think anyone realized it. Bob's gift is that of will." Yorrick stressed the last word. "I've heard others say that his gift is focus, but I feel that this focus is merely a facet of his will." He shifted in his seat, sitting upright, then leaning forward. "Make no mistake, Robert Whitman is a man driven by implacable, unyielding, and endless WILL." Yorrick shook his head. "The purpose of this production is to ensure that you are fully informed in regards to the man who would be instructing you. It is paramount that you understand who he is. When faced with a ticking clock, he delved for twelve to sixteen hours a day, subjecting himself to density sickness. He ignored every warning as he drove himself ever deeper, only thought to save the first and only being that had ever cared for him."

Yorrick leaned back. "Kelli was willing to share his memory of Bob forcing his maligned, maladjusted body and matrix to work the ritual magic necessary to call Monroe from Earth to Thayland."

The scene shifted yet again, and it showed Bob sitting in the center of a ritual circle drawn in the dirt outside the dark entrance to a cave. Kelli was standing outside the circle, his hands full of potion vials. The circle began to glow with a dark blue-black light, and Bob's face became strained. Dark stains spread over his shirt and pants, and then tears appeared on his exposed skin, blood leaking from them. Bob's face remained fixed in concentration as an unsteady portal appeared, and he spoke, his voice strained. "Monroe!" The visible tears expanded, then ruptured, showing the flesh beneath, gleaming wetly as blood sheeted down, puddling beneath him. Moments passed, and Bob called out again, this time his voice wet as he coughed up blood. Exposed muscles were now splitting as they tore, and the snap of ligaments being stretched beyond their tolerance could be heard. Through it all, Bob remained still, his eyes closed and expression fixed in terrible concentration. Then, a blur of grey shot out of the portal, landing on Bob's chest and knocking him over, the light disappearing and the portal snapping shut as Monroe impacted with Bob. Kelli darted forward and began to pour potions into Bob's mouth.

The scene froze as Yorrick entered it. He looked down at Bob, then looked up at the camera. "There is a phrase from one of your American presidents," he began. "He called it 'The last, full measure of devotion.' In your Bible, it says, 'Greater love hath no man.' Both are referring to the willingness to sacrifice their lives for something they love." He shook his head. "This is the full measure of devotion Bob has to offer." He smiled. "Days later, Bob stood with the citizens of Holmstead against the wave, determined to repay the debt he perceived himself as owing for their aid in rescuing Monroe."

Now the memory of Bob's first wave played out, his successful rescue of the family from the leading edge of the wave, and his desperate battle to save himself and Monroe as his damaged matrix failed him. It continued, showing his battle against the Heavy Equipment Sized Rat, and the Big Fucking Nope, as well as the terrible wounds he suffered, before shifting back to Yorrick in his classroom.

"Take a man who asked for so little in his life and received even less," Yorrick mused. "Add a sense of honor developed from seeing the worst of humanity and mix it with an implacable will to see a task through, regardless of the personal cost," he sighed. "Bob's matrix was badly damaged by his arrival and the System's attempts to rebuild him. Keep in mind that while the humans on Thayland and the humans on Earth look the same, there are differences in your matrices. That left Bob with half of his matrix not functioning correctly, an issue that was compounded by his use of Ritual magic, which is a whole-matrix effort. In the beginning, he was paying fifty percent more mana for each spell he cast, but after his use of ritual magic, it became worse. I don't know the exact progression, but I do know that it grew worse each time he leveled, and at the end, he was paying more than three times the mana cost for each spell he cast." Yorrick frowned. "I do know his matrix was so badly damaged that even at level five before he cast the ritual to summon Monroe, he was unable to obtain a path. This obviously impeded his progress, but true to form, he just kept going. It was at this point that he discovered the trick to using Affinity Crystals."

Yorrick stood up and walked around his desk, leaning against it. "Until this point, the requirements to find Affinity Crystals and the ideal use of them had been secured by a Geas, a magical compulsion, by the Noble houses of Greenwold. Bob discovered the information independently and immediately recognized the potential power offered by combining an Affinity Crystal with a complimentary path. True to form, he offered that knowledge freely to others. This is regarded as the first time anyone saw the Shepherd Bob would become."

The view changed and resolved into the tavern at the Adventurers Guild in Holmstead. A group of more than twenty teenagers stood as Bob stalked back and forth in front of them. Yorrick entered the frame as it froze. "This is what people have taken to calling the 'Big Damn Heroes' speech. The scene picked back up, and Yorrick stood patiently in the background as Bob laid out the harsh realities of life for the kids. "If you can't keep up, don't step up," he echoed Bob's words thoughtfully.

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"You know, I think Bob might rush to tier ten just so he can kick Yorrick's ass for this," Dave observed.

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Yorrick was back at his desk. "Still, while that little speech held a taste of what could be, I think the next event is a better example."

The scene shifted, and the full splendor and glory of the Church of the Light appeared, with Voren and Annisa standing in front of Bob and four children, three of them dressed in patchwork armor, with the fourth wearing a suit of armor that was clearly brand new.

"Here we have Bob with his first group of freshers," Yorrick began. "Harbordeep wasn't a good place to be a commoner, especially a poor one. Those three," he gestured toward the group, "heard from Lady Wallenstair," he waved to Nora in her new armor, "that she was being shepherded, something she convinced Bob to do by virtue of simply asking him, and their parents rushed to have them accompany him, as he was the first official Shepherd to register in Harbordeep for decades." Yorrick grinned broadly. "Little did they know what they were getting themselves into."

The scene played out, Bob leading them down into the Dungeon, chastising them for not having weapons, before summoning clubs for the four teenagers. It was then that the audience was treated to Shepherd Bob, introducing everyone to what would become classic lines such as Always Be Killing! Strike, Move, Strike! As well as the first known explanation of the six rules of delving.

The view shifted again, and Yorrick was back in the mountain meadow. "This is what you're signing up for," Yorrick warned. "I've interacted with the construct they've created from the memories of Bob they've collected, and it is true to form. You're going to be driven to exhaustion and then pushed further. You'll internalize the rules, and the techniques he teaches you will become instinctive. I've seen the schedule, and you'll be delving for sixteen hours a day for three months." Yorrick smiled grimly. "You'll definitely be ready for a vacation when you're done, but I wouldn't be part of this if I didn't think that it would make people better, safer, delvers."

"The rest of Bob's time is fairly well documented. He built the first printing press on Thayland to make pamphlets explaining how to obtain and use Affinity Crystals, and when he became aware of Earth's pending integration into the System, he returned and began working tirelessly to save as many people as he could." Yorrick's smile broadened, brightening. "He ended up involving our favorite Dragon, the then King of Greenwold, and the now Emperor of Thayland, who is second only to Bob himself in terms of credit due for saving everyone on Earth. The Empire, of course, comes in a close third," he continued, casually buffing his fingernails against his jacket. "Not content with getting the ball rolling, he kept looking for ways to help. He built Dungeons and erected the first skyscrapers on Thayland to house the people who would delve them, all while offering whatever expertise he could to the leaders of Earth's nations."

The mountain meadow disappeared, replaced by the cold white of the top of a glacier. "He didn't limit himself to the governments of the world," Yorrick continued, his voice present, although he wasn't visible.

The view turned and revealed tens of thousands of men on top of the glacier setting up tents. It turned further and revealed an open portal, through which a hospital bed was wheeled through, before coming to rest in front of Bob, who began casting a ritual, which, when completed, restored the patient on the bed, regrowing his missing legs and arm. As soon as the ritual was complete another bed arrived with another patient.

"Seventy-eight hours," Yorrick said, respect evident in his voice. "This was the first event I became aware of that showcased Bob's gift. He kept casting rituals, one after another." The scene sped up, the stream of patients a blur with Bob as the only unchanging figure. "Two thousand seven hundred and sixty-two rituals," Yorrick continued. "At the same time, higher tier priests of the Church of Light only managed five hundred."

Yorrick was back in his classroom. "I couldn't do that," he said flatly. "I want all of you to understand the gravity of that statement. I am tier nine, and I've been working ritual magic for eight centuries, and I can't do that." He shook his head. "During one of our worst tides, I kept a ritual abjuration shield over Karce going for nineteen hours. That's the longest recorded time in the history of the Empire." He stared directly into the camera. "Bob doesn't think he's special," Yorrick said flatly. "Due to his upbringing and what he's suffered throughout his life, he can't see his own worth. Because of this, when you accept instruction from him, he will expect from you what he expects from himself. I'm here to tell you that Bob is special." He sighed. "The only flaw I've seen from Bob's instruction is that people come away from it trying to be Bob."

"Why have I told you all of this?" Yorrick asked. "Because you need to know just who you're going to be learning from. I have nothing but respect for the Church of the System, the Endless, and the Old Guard, but the people who are going to be in charge of this effort don't actually know Bob. I do, and I'm proud to say I consider him a friend. They would have you believe that he's some sort of saint, a living legend."

Yorrick smiled sadly. "While he does live up to the legend, he's just a man. A good one, and as far as I'm concerned better than what the world who treated him so badly deserves. He has his faults, and he makes mistakes. I took part in this because Bob is my friend, so I could tell you his story. Don't idolize him. It's the last thing he wants. Instead, remember his most recent message to the world. Be kinder. Be better. Make this world a kinder, better place for everyone. Because that's what Adventurers do."

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"Strewth, he's not wrong on that," Jessica observed. "I'm good for about a dozen rituals back to back before I need to bunk off for a couple of hours."

"I was there," Mike grunted. "He just. Kept. Going," he shook his head. "He kept casting until the last critical case was handled, then he fell into his inventory, and I'm assuming here, slept for two days."

"I have to agree with Yorrick," Erick mused. "I thought Bob was just very focused, but it's more than that."

"When he decides to do something, he's unstoppable," Bailli said firmly. "It doesn't matter how much he has to hurt himself, he won't quit."

"People who have learned from the shepherds who learned from him have the highest survival rate ever," Eddi said quietly. "I mean, Harbordeep was bad, but honestly, Earth is kind of worse. The knowledge is available, but a lot of people watch Dungeon Runners on YouTube and learn all the wrong lessons. That's why we decided to do this. Bob can't stop to teach billions of people how to delve, but we can sort of 'borrow' him, you know?"

"How is it going to work?" Amanda asked.

"The Endless, the Church, and the Confederation are all going to spend the crystals to open the Adventurers Guild here on Earth," Eddi explained. "We're going to schedule delves as a Guild in order to Shepherd people in places where you can do that, and the Terran Confederation is going to dedicate ten percent of their Dungeon delves to the Adventurers Guild, which will help. For people who don't have anything tying them down, we can bring them to Thayland." Eddi grinned. "Yorrick worked it out with the King, and in exchange for half the crystals we pull, he's having fifty Adventurers Guilds built on one of the other continents, with the expectation that we'll take up half the delves of the Dungeon in that area."

"That's huge," Dave muttered.

"We think Bob will only be cranky for a couple of days," Wayna shrugged. "He's all about helping people, so he'll come around quick enough."

"I wanted to show him the video before it went live, but he ran off," Eddi grumbled.