“TASTE JUSTICE!”

Words in a language familiar to Pel rang out, full of righteous fury. Some underlying piece of his mind grasped onto that information for later as the busier pieces dealt with not getting tossed out of the cupped section of the wooden pillar as the lantern clattered across the top of the crate. Pel’s view of the outside world was a washing machine of swirling colors and rattling glass. A peaceful moment of near silence as the lantern soared off the edge of the crate and through the air was broken as it made contact with the dirt.

As the pieces came to rest, Pel peeked out from the rim of his wooden refuge. Thankfully no shards of glass hit me. What the hell was that? Stabby just got stabbed? He looked out through the walls of the lantern, one view of the sky above through intact glass, one wall of dented iron to the right, and one blessedly shattered wall of glass to the left. The lantern had come to rest several feet away from the crate, but from the ground Pel couldn’t see over it. Wait, was he speaking English?

He eyed the broken opening in the glass, definitely large enough to escape through. Coast looks clear, this is my chance! Pel flew carefully through the middle of the broken shards, wincing mentally as he passed within an inch of the iron to escape.

“FREEDOOOOOM!” Pel shouted, rising into the air with his elation and a happy shine. The air is cold! I love it!

“Begone, evil lantern spirit!” a voice commanded from Pel’s blind spot.

I knew it! English! Pel turned his vision to get a look at the man who freed him.

“Hey, I understoo- HEY!” Pel evaded upward, dodging the blade of a sword as it whistled through the air. “Watch it with that thing!” He flew up higher, out of reach of the tip of the sword. On the other end of the sword, a young man covered in chainmail armor from head to knees glared death at Pel.

“I’m not an evil lantern spirit, calm down!” Pel shouted.

“As if I’ll take the word of talking light!” the young man shouted back, adjusting his grip on the shield in his left hand.

Oh, right. I’m a mote. Pel flew up a little higher just to be safe before changing back into his full form.

“See? I’m a Fairy!” he said, spinning around. “My name’s A-“ Pel paused in realization. I can be free of Apple! I can be Pel now! “Ahem, my name’s Pel! Thanks for getting me out of the lantern!”

The young man hmm’d skeptically, never taking his eyes off Pel. What’s this guy’s deal? I’m pretty clearly a Fairy, Pel thought as he waited. I should probably just leave. I thanked him already, and those other guys will probably burst through the bushes any second. Where would I go, though? Pel looked over toward the cart carrying the captives.

“You should free those people, too,” Pel said, gesturing toward the boxy wagon. “The other bad guys will be here any second. Retreat is the best option.”

The young man scoffed. “On my honor, I will never retreat in the face of evil. Heroes only push forward.”

“You’re a hero?” Pel asked. Of course, in a world with reincarnators it has to have guys like this! “Is that a Class? Is that why you attacked these guys? Were you born on Enna? Are you-“ Pel clamped his hand over his mouth to stop the flood of questions. Damn! Fairy impulses are scary!

“Well, no. I’m not technically a Hero,” the young man glanced to the side, “yet. But I will be!” He thumped his shield with his sword, standing straight with his shoulders thrown back to strike a pose. “You’re looking at the valorous future Hero of Humanity, Godrick Maxwell!”

Pel watched the display with a small amount of secondhand embarrassment. This guy’s at least 18 years old, how can he still be like this? His Presence was warm, feeling like metal right after a quench. Hard, unyielding, but with a slight feverish tang clinging to the edge like sweat or condensation. His Level was somewhere between 18 and 28. He got lucky Stabby was distracted. That evil prick was somewhere between 24 and 34.

Godrick’s pose was interrupted as a dart thumped into the flesh just above his right knee. Pel turned quickly and spotted Blowhard and Shieldy running into the camp clearing from the bushes. With a yell, Godrick yanked the dart from his leg and pointed his sword at the approaching men in challenge.

Shieldy continued approaching while Blowhard stopped at the edge of the bushes, loading his blowgun for another shot. This is bad, Godrick won’t be able to get to Blowhard while Shieldy is pressuring him, and he won’t be able to deal with Shieldy if he has to worry about Blowhard’s darts.

“Kill Shieldy!” Pel shouted. “I’ll distract Blowhard!” He turned back into a mote, emitting as little light as possible as he flew upward in an overhead arc toward Blowhard. Blowhard isn’t wearing iron, especially not iron gauntlets. Pel watched Blowhard as he approached, never once did the man look up in his direction. The man was slowly edging to the side of the clash between the two shield users looking for a better vantage point to use his blowgun.

Pel flew silently down toward the man’s face, flashing brightly in his eyes before changing directions to the left. Blowhard shouted something as he squeezed his eyes shut and jerked his head away from the light. Fairy Flare! Pel thought in delight as he flew upward to prepare another flyby. He spared a quick glance for Godrick, who seemed to be holding his own as the two of them used their shields to try gaining an advantage against one another.

Blowhard was glancing into the air now, so Pel carefully positioned himself against the setting sun as he made his next approach. He crossed over Blowhard’s right shoulder, flashing brightly once again as he passed the man’s face which elicited another startled cry. I can’t do anything to this guy. Pel thought. All I can do is make it so that Godrick doesn’t have to worry about more darts.

Blowhard was randomly swinging his blowgun around his head trying to hit Pel who was already a safe distance away. At least it’s easy to avoid his random blows. I thought his blowgun was made of metal, but I’m pretty sure it’s just wood painted black and polished to a shine now. The only random swing that had even come close didn’t give Pel the feeling of heat and doom that iron did. Or maybe it’s a metal with no iron?

Pel repositioned himself behind Blowhard, waiting for the man to refocus on the other fight. As he raised his blowgun to face to ready a shot, Pel transformed back into full form for double the speed, and soared to the back of the man’s head. Grabbing a fistful of greasy hair, he yanked down hard and flew backwards, ripping several strands free. Blowhard’s supporting hand left the blowgun to clap the back of his head in pain which caused his dart to fly harmlessly by the other two combatants.

Godrick seemed to have the upper hand, only moments had gone by since the beginning of the battle yet Shieldy was sporting several cuts to his legs and shoulders. Pel turned back into a mote, repositioning with the sun behind him again. Blowhard dug into the pouch tied to his belt, pulling out another dart to jam into the end of his gun.

Pel flew forward as the man began to raise his weapon up, but instead of taking the same firing position as before he instead held his right hand up by his head in a fist. Another flash, coming right- Blowhard flung his hand downward, throwing a ball concealed in his palm at the ground. With a muffled *bomf*, dust, sand, smoke and glitter exploded in a cloud around the man, catching Pel within the radius.

Pel reverted involuntarily back to his full form, the glitter in the air burning him like embers as he fell to the ground. He took a reflexive half-breath in to scream, but choked as the iron powder in the air got in his mouth. Again, with the breathing! Pel thought frantically as he rolled across the dirt. He came to rest and stood up immediately, rubbing and swatting at his arms and face as more iron fell from the sky around him. Gotta run! The air is lava!

A thick leather boot sent Pel painfully spinning through the air; with all the dust, it felt like flying through needles. He burst out into clean air as he flipped head over heels before skipping across the dirt like a fleshy rock. Dizzy from the unexpected blow, Pel’s vision was swimming as he tried to orient himself and find Blowhard. Little burning freckles of iron still clung to his skin and tongue, preventing him from flying away.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Pel’s could feel that something inside him wasn’t right, an ache deep within, but he couldn’t heal unless the iron was removed. Grabbing handfuls of iron-free sand and dirt, he began rubbing it all over himself as he lay on the ground. Spitting and coughing he tried to remove the iron from his mouth as well. That bastard baited me in! He must have grabbed that bomb when he grabbed the dart. Pel wiggled across the ground on his back, trying to remove the last of the iron that he couldn’t reach by hand.

Someone shouted and Pel looked up. Blowhard was standing at the edge of the fading cloud of dust and iron, blowgun lowering from his mouth as it pointed toward Godrick’s fight with Shieldy. He reached into his pouch for another dart; the previous one sticking out of Godrick’s shoulder, small enough to make it through the rings in his chainmail. Shit, Blowhard doesn’t even need to aim for exposed spots. Chainmail is like the Swiss cheese of armor against darts!

Blowhard stepped further out of the fading cloud of dust and iron, sneering at Pel on the ground. He said a few words Pel couldn’t understand, walking closer with a wicked smile that put Pel on his feet and running for the wooden crate next to Stabby’s body. He clawed at his tongue with gritty fingers, trying to remove the last of the burning iron from his mouth as every footstep sent a stab of pain through his chest. A dart pierced the ground beside him so closely that Pel could feel the heat of the iron in its shaft.

He spit out some dirt from his mouth, along with the last remaining bits of iron on his body as he rounded the corner of the crate. If Blowhard hadn’t kicked me free of the iron cloud, I probably would have died right there. Pel put his hands to his chest and cast [Gentle Touch], letting his Mana overflow slightly as he continued channeling for the heal over time.

He poked his head around the corner of the crate just in time to see Godrick sail across the ground with his shield held in front of him, trailing white whisps of light. He crashed into Blowhard’s side, coming to a complete stop as the white light continued forward into the man, knocking him off his feet and across the ground.

“This one will be easier to finish off,” Godrick said, looking down toward the crate Pel was sheltering behind. “You distract the Defender while I take out the Ranger.”

Pel nodded back, still pouring Mana into his healing Skill. Most of the pain had faded, and his insides didn’t feel bruised anymore, but there was still an ache in his back that just wouldn’t go away. He flicked his Self Help interface open for an instant to check his Health, and saw 34 / [40]52. There has to be a way to show this stuff all the time, Pel thought as he flew onto the top of the crate. Shieldy was staggering up to his feet from the ground, shaking his head to clear it from some blow Godrick had no doubt given him.

He continued healing himself until he reached 40 Health. Unlike when someone reached full Health and the healing Skill automatically stopped, he reached the bracketed number and his Skill continued to channel. Pel watched closely, but the numbers didn’t increase at all. Great, something I can’t heal. Shieldy picked his sword from the dirt at the same time Pel cancelled his Skill and turned back into a mote.

He zipped forward, blinding Shieldy as he passed his face. I really hope they don’t have another one of those iron dust bombs, Pel thought as he looped around. Blowhard was barely deflecting Godrick’s strikes with his longer blowgun, the ranged weapon already chipped in several places and beginning to look more and more like kindling. Shieldy was blinking his eyes rapidly as he continued to advance toward Godrick.

Pel returned, searing Shieldy’s eyes again but the man simply wasn’t having it anymore. With a yell, he clamped his eyes shut and charged forward.

“Godrick!” Pel called out in alarm. Godrick turned and crouched low behind his shield, knees bent almost to the ground. Shieldy, eyes still closed, took a swing at where Godrick’s neck had been a second before as Godrick shouted two words in a different language. In a motion almost too quick for Pel to follow, Godrick stood up and punched upward with his shield at the same time, catching Shieldy in the stomach, knocking him backward into the air with a grunt.

Shieldy fell onto the crate, crushing it to splinters alongside the shattered lantern. Godrick wasted no time, spinning around in a fast arc. He shouted another word and his sword emitted a slight red light as it continued cutting toward Blowhard who could only hold his blowgun vertically in front of himself to block the blow. Sword met blowgun which parted like a stalk of wheat before the sickle. The sword continued forward, slicing through Blowhard’s leather armor to hack wetly into his side.

The rim of Godrick’s shield followed as the light from the sword faded, crunching into Blowhard’s nose and snapping his head backward. The man fell to the ground, one hand pressed against his side and the other covering his face as he screamed. Godrick stepped over the man and plunged his sword into his heart without hesitation.

~ Godrick ~

God, judge the man I send you now. May his wickedness, like weighted chains, drag his soul to eternal darkness.

“You killed Ken!” the Defender yelled from amid the splinters of the broken crate. “You bastard! I’ll cut your fucking arms off and shove them up your ass!”

Godrick pulled his sword from the ranger’s chest with a *schluk*. So much darkness, Godrick thought, such evil. These borderlands are truly rife with it. He smiled. What better place to make myself shine than in the darkest places of the world? He checked his cooldowns. [Power Strike] was up in a few seconds, [Shield Bash] was still 13 seconds away, and [Shield Charge] was still more than a minute.

Still over half Stamina, Health down by 70 and counting. Damned poison darts, Godrick thought sourly. I can’t believe these undisciplined slavers managed to harm me, Level advantage or no. He walked calmly toward the Defender still catching his breath, just barely standing on his feet. I got reckless, assumed the Fairy would be more helpful in keeping the ranger distracted. But still, a Fairy! Way out here in the middle of nowhere! I’ve never met one before!

The Defender shouted something else, but Godrick wasn’t paying attention. Let’s see…against a shield like that I think this should work. Godrick approached the man slightly on his shield side, watching his eyes over the rim of the shield. With a quick step Godrick extended his left arm forward, ramming the rim of his shield into the second quadrant of the Defender’s. The man’s shield twisted in his grip, the arm strap keeping this exact thing from happening having already snapped earlier in the fight.

With a curse the other man attempted to counter with his sword by going for a leg strike, but Godrick’s shield was pressed into the man’s armpit now, the geometry of his shield prevented the sword from finding an angle on him. He was protected by both shields from the left, and the man’s shield was trapped, flipped open exposing his entire torso on Godrick’s right.

“[Power Strike]!” he yelled. Strength flooded his arm, back and legs like a barely contained explosion. He used that energy to stab upward, burying his sword to the hilt inside the man as it entered just below his chest piece and tore upward through his chest cavity. With any training, he could have avoided that.

The Defender’s strength left him, and he slumped into Godrick for support as his sword clattered down the face of his shield and hit the dirt.

“I will be the Hero who brings new light to all the darkest places,” Godrick whispered.

~ Pel ~

Shieldy collapsed against Godrick who caught him and gently laid him on the ground. Shieldy tried to say something, but only bubbled and frothed a little before going still. The rush of a Level up tingled down Pel’ spine as he hovered in the air above the battlefield.

“You okay over there?” Pel asked.

“Of course!” Godrick spoke with conviction. “Honor has been won today, and the world shines a little brighter.”

“You got shot with a few of those darts, do you need some healing?” Pel flew a little closer to look.

“The poison is rather weak,” Godrick said. “Nothing a little time and a poultice won’t fix!”

“Well I-“ Pel stopped before he could say ‘can heal you’. Showing those guys my healing got me into this in the first place. “What now?” he covered with.

“Now I free the slaves, kill the monsters in those cages, loot the bodies and cut the heads off the slavers, report my good deeds to the nearest town guard, and collect any open bounties they might’ve had,” Godrick replied with a white, radiant smile. “And maybe see if there’s a reward with the Merchant’s Guild for any of the non-Human cargo they were carrying.”

“Non-Human cargo?” Pel asked while backing away. I’m technically non-Human cargo.

“Not you,” Godrick laughed. “You’re free to go. My mother always told me that being friendly to Fairies was a fantastic idea.”

“I…don’t think I can go anywhere, not far anyway” Pel said. “If you include the month I spent trapped in that lantern, I’m a month and one week old. I’m only…” Pel paused to check his Self Help interface, “Level 10."

“Five weeks?” Godrick shouted. “They kidnapped a baby!?” He looked down at Shieldy’s body and kicked it. “They’re eviler than I thought. At least they’re all dead now.”

“Actually, there are two more. They left to get supplies earlier today but they should be back soon,” Pel informed him.

“Supplies?” Godrick asked. “There aren’t any towns within two day’s travel of here. Where are they getting supplies from?”

“No idea, but we should either leave now or set up an ambush before they get back,” Pel suggested.

“Ha, I’m far too brave to leave evil lurking in the shadows,” Godrick said, puffing his chest out. “An ambush doesn’t seem very…honorly. Honorous?”

“Honorable?” Pel said.

“That’s it!” Godrick said. “I always strive for maximum honor! Lying in ambush seems like something someone with evil intentions would do.”

“What about when you stabbed Stabby in the mouth?” Pel asked.

“That? Well, I was wandering the area looking for the river. I had left the ruins a few days ago and got turned around when I heard arguing,” Godrick said. “I crept up behind the bushes and saw the slave cart,” Godrick spit. “Humans turning on their own kind, that’s true evil. I waited for an opening, because a smart Hero always strikes before speaking,” Godrick nodded. “My blade is named Justice, it was only fitting.”

“Ha, I see,” Pel chuckled. “Well, I’m not strong enough to move bodies and set up an ambush. You should probably get started.”

“No problem!” Godrick said, wiping his sword clean on Shieldy’s body. “But first,” he turned to catch Pel in his peripheral vision, “could you put some pants on? Your indecency is distracting.”