The next morning went uninterrupted, giving me more time to consider my options within the grimoire. I had gained four more experience since the prior morning, up to a total of twenty-four. It had been racking up more slowly, in a pattern that had become no clearer or more predictable. Still, it was more than enough to learn the Purge Condition spell, which was a bit tempting. More enticing was the option to increase what Wysteria could do. If I committed a full twenty experience, I could increase her Endurance from a 4 to a 5, and this would make her Venomous Vapors last for an additional six seconds and grant her a higher base check for her Stamina skill, which if that worked like a CON save would perhaps mitigate the need for Purge Condition in the first place. Then again, perhaps it wouldn’t. The poison-like effect of her gas required a Stamina check to resist, but that was a physical effect that required a firm constitution to resist. She was already immune to poisons, venoms, and toxins, and Purge Condition only listed fatigue, disease, and temporary blindness and deafness as other maladies it could cure, so it stood to reason I should be more concerned about Wysteria being inflicted negative mental status, if such a thing existed. Increasing an Attribute affected so many other things, though, and with the big cost involved it seemed like a wise early investment. In most games, experience became harder to come by as you went along in the plot, or at least you needed much more of it to make an impact on your character. I had no way of knowing if the slowdown to my Xp increase was due to that design choice, or just some kind of weird happenstance of when I got my four more, but it still seemed like a decent investment.

It bothered me that it felt like there were aspects of the book I couldn’t see or interact with; not the garbled text of things yet unlocked, but the interface itself. I felt I should be able to read the contents of my own Traits like I could Wysteria’s, or have the option to purchase more for either of us. Part of my morning was spent poking and prodding at different random spots on the page like a geriatric trying to navigate an unintuitive web browser, but to no avail. I had faith I would have access to more eventually, but my frustrations were beginning to mount without a clear time frame or reason. The text of Venomous Vapors updated at some point, after all; I was sure it never listed anything about a number of turns when I first looked it over, and yet now it specifically stated it lasted for her Endurance in turns. A sinking feeling brewed in my gut that perhaps there was more intelligent design behind the grimoire than I’d originally hoped, but it also might’ve been easing me into the descriptions of the rules like a lot of newer video games did; when the tooltip first pops up it gives you easy-to-interpret descriptions, but when you check the menu later they were often more dense and precise. If someone who wasn’t familiar with basic RPG mechanics picked it up, after all, they’d be experiencing a higher learning curve and it’d be best not to inundate them with terminology from jump street.

While it might’ve been nice to feel like I had a greater understanding of the Grimoire di Magi e Mythe, or at least someone I could turn to for answers to my most recurring questions, I was also sure that there was a threshold of knowing ‘too much’. My best friend on Earth, Michael Leslie, was among the two of us a much larger fan of isekai and litRPG-style fiction, so while I hadn’t witnessed it firsthand I had been told many a story of a protagonist getting hit by a truck and stepping into the world of a game they personally knew how to exploit. Absolute power did what absolute power does, and there was either a desperate battle against the tide of corruption, or a headfirst dive into it to finally live out the megalomaniacal fantasies misanthropic members of society so often have. I had them, certainly. High school was rough, and middle school before it. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, and I had even fewer now, on Earth or in the Commonwealth. At different times in my life I’d been picked on, mentally and socially abused, taken advantage of, cheated on, tricked, lied to, strung along, betrayed, and any number of other common manipulations that weren’t directly coming to mind. For a long time, I wanted revenge for it. Perhaps not in a personal ‘eye-for-an-eye’ sense, but at least the opportunity to stick my abusers noses in the mess they made. To make them see, to make them understand what they did to me.

Things had changed rather recently. I had been forced to change, for the better, though as was typical of my life, the catalyst wasn’t pleasant. Somewhere along the line I had lost that want for vengeance, or justice. Most of the things that I was sore about happened over a decade ago, and both myself and the other parties involved were different people who probably wouldn’t make those same decisions in the same situation anymore. In the aftermath of everything, I refused to hold her responsible for anything, even while everyone around me wanted otherwise. There just wasn’t room in my heart for all that hate anymore, for hanging onto all that spite, and letting it go was more productive than lashing out. Lashing out had, historically, never helped any situation I’d been in. But even with acceptance in my head and a forced placidity in my soul, I knew myself. I hadn’t been purged of those nasty urges; they were merely trapped under layers of determination and denial. Eventually (I hoped) they would suffocate and die there. But one spark is all that fuel needs to burn, and I didn’t want to see how bright my relit inferno of indignation became with a direct feed to unlimited power suddenly shining golden at my fingertips.

I spent my twenty experience and increased Wysteria’s Athleticism. It was her only stat below a two, and granted her greater speed, a higher initiative, and a better base Agility check, however that translated from game numbers to what passed for real life. Everything felt a little colder after it was allotted, not quite like I’d made a mistake, but emblematic of the remorse I often felt when committing to an option that wasn’t clearly the perfect choice. Even on Earth I thought a lot about the road not taken; I had a desire to replay video games after I’d finished them, re-roll my character and make a few subtly different choices. I wondered about the girl I’d had a crush on when I was twelve, and how different the path of my life might’ve traveled if either of us had been aware the feeling was mutual. How different would I be if I realized my friend’s invitation to prom wasn’t a suggestion we go stag in solidarity, but that he and I go together? It wasn’t that I regretted how my life turned out; I knew that every decision I’d made led to the person I was today, and despite the everyday struggles of someone dealing with a chemical imbalance, I liked myself. There was just this curiosity that lingered. A desire to see how things might’ve been if only I’d done something slightly different. What if I had asked Red to remain linked to me? What if they were his Attributes I was increasing, cold and alone along the side of Triangle Road?

That thought in and of itself caused mental thread to spool rapidly downhill; if Red had Attributes and Traits while he was linked to me, it stood to reason he still had them now. If I did, it only made sense that Tanis did, that every over creature in Barbavia and beyond did. Simultaneously I was struck by how much easier it would be to understand people if I could just take a peek at their noteworthy skills and abilities, and how much of a gross invasion of privacy that very act would signify. This was the conflict I didn’t want to grant myself access to through gaming the system that was as close an approximation to the fundamentals of reality that I or anyone else could divine. Briefly it occurred to me that actual divination magic might be able to do exactly that or better, but if it could to any widespread degree I assumed Red would be aware of it, given his time with the criminal element, and would’ve shared it with me as a thing to be aware of… or a tool to use against any would-be pursuers. I closed the grimoire, having had enough dour pondering for the day and no more experience to spend. My thoughts had a tendency to run like pigs from a gun, and sometimes the only solution was to shut the book and move on. In this instance, it was nice to have a literal, physical book to close and signify to myself it was time to get about the day’s duties.

We marched mostly silent, occasionally broken up by Tanis making some observation, whistling to herself, or singing softly. Well, softly for her; she was loud enough that a couple of times some of the folks around us would join in. I had a hard time following a lot of the lyrics, but one in particular stuck out as more of the crowd sang along than usual. Their voices brought an unexpected camaraderie to the otherwise anonymous journey we’d all been on together thus far, and in spite of how annoying I often found her, or how suspicious she was, it caused Tanis to grow on me. She was the one unafraid to raise her voice above the dull din of pack-laden people plodding through the snowy brick road, sharing with others the opportunity to engage in a few rousing verses of what must’ve been a very popular song. At the time I assumed it was a folk song of some sort, but was chagrined to later discover it was one of Johnny Az’s bigger hits, ‘The Difference is, We’re the Same. It was the only tune she sang that day that I kept in my memory, and I jotted the lyrics down later to help stick it there so I might be able to join in if it came up again.

What if we’re all just people?

So what if we can’t agree?

At the end of the day

I’ve got my mates

And if you’ll have me, you’ll have me!

So what if you hit me in the face?

I might hit you back, it’s true

But at the end of the night

We can settle our fights

Over a couple dozen cups of brew!

Oh! Sure, we’re all just people

What the hell else could we be?

When the sun rises high

Y’know you’ve got I

And I, mate, have got thee!

‘Cuz when it all is said an’ done

And we’ve all been gone too long

What’s left of us

Will be the best of buds

An’ singin’ this same damn song!

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Sure, it wasn’t the most lyrically complex tune I’d ever heard, but it had a very Flogging Molly vibe to it; a style somewhere between a traditional drinking song and a punk rock mixtape that hammered home Johnny Az’s message about togetherness. Rancid’s Fall Back Down meets Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Down on the Corner. It kept me in high spirits, thinking of songs from home, trying to imagine ways to share them with Red or maybe even Tanis without subjecting them to my off-key acapella. We were only about a day out from Brum and the next step— the biggest step in my career as a chainer was right in front of me. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel that excitement, let it run electric through my body and put a smile on my face. I let the energy carry me even as the sun fell and the snow picked up, blowing into our faces by a biting wind. Only when Tanis shoulder-checked me and knocked me over did it drain, replaced by irritation and confusion. Wysteria was still safely snuggled against my body and keeping warm between the layers of robes and my T-shirt, otherwise it might’ve been out of concern for her, but whatever expected explanation I might’ve demanded from my so-called bodyguard’s assault became unnecessary as I saw the terror that had spilled onto the road before us.

At least eight feet tall, its head would find the lower-hanging branches of the various conifers of the mountains enough that evolution had seen fit to give it large, curling, front-facing horns to catch errant tree limbs before they could get past its meaty brown and into its beady, yellow eyes. It had pale, bluish skin like an az, but was covered in a great deal more shaggy white hair all over its body, and was almost as wide as I was tall. It leaned down, pumping enormous arms and opened its mouth to bellow, a rumbling growl echoing through massive lungs and spitting around sturdy tusks. The sound was so disturbingly human that it sent a fresh wave of panic through me, and I kicked my feet at the bricks and wood pushing myself back from the road and into the banks of snow, away from the furry behemoth. The other travelers were similarly scattering, for the most part, though a few had joined the guards in taking up arms against the best, Tanis among them.

‘Get down,’ she had said. It was like an echo, the memory of her voice cutting through the air more shrill and urgent than any bawdy chorus or wry remark. She had told me to get down before pushing me out of the way to put herself in danger, and I’d barely been cognizant of it or the frightening, muscle-bound goliath that was now occupying the road. My eyes darted about, trying to remember where I’d been standing, as though an assessment of how dead I may or may not have been would be useful to my current situation. That led to looking for familiar faces I’d been idly keeping track of on our trip, but everything was bedlam. Scarcely thirty seconds had passed, and the road was empty but for those willing to fight. I couldn’t even see where Red had gotten off to, though even with my mind a shambles with adrenaline and panic I didn’t consider he might’ve fallen to the muscular monstrosity; he was far too clever, too quick, and too resourceful. It did occur to me that I might should help, but I couldn’t do much with Wysteria in my arms, and I wasn’t about to abandon her to the havoc and the cold.

Three Crucible guards held their shields high, their weapons drawn, and kept their feet moving and ready, eyeing for an opening to strike. For the moment, the creature before them was merely standing, breathing, his predatory eyes regarding them with the same violent appraisal. A civilian with a polearm struck out at the beast, catching it mostly in the shoulder with the haft, the blade caught by its horns in a reflexive defensive movement. It grabbed the weapon and yanked him forward, snatching him by his leg and slamming him bodily into one of the guards in a swift, brutal motion, knocking them both to the ground. The remaining guards advanced on the monster, getting in a few good jabs with sword and spear, but he swept them with a trunk-sized arm against their shields and forced them back. Claret oozed from his wounds, steaming in the air in a way that seemed to annoy him even more, and he rushed the guards. They made an effort, and you might think they had the upper hand being smarter beings with weapons training, but they looked like toddlers with pointy sticks trying to fight Brock Lesnar. They were getting their licks in, but a stab or a poke here and there felt futile when the giant picked one up and threw him spinning like a boomerang into a nearby tree where he connected with a grisly crack.

“Fortsett å stå! Jeg skal distrahere ham, og deretter gå etter magen hans!” Tanis was shouting in a rolling, throaty tongue.

She broke away, her place in the defensive line taken by the guard who’d been knocked down with the polearm-wielder earlier. They hunkered behind their shields and set their ankles to absorb any coming blows, but the behemoth was too wary and his head swiveled to follow her. My bodyguard was certainly fast, but I wasn’t sure she could out-speed this thing after what I’d just seen him do, especially since the Crucible guards were more understandably concerned with preventing their quarry’s access to the scores of less combat-savvy innocent people caught in the snow with me. Still half-sitting in the frozen bank, I jostled Wysteria under the crook of one arm and reached into my satchel to feel the frigid metal of my throwing knives. Biting my lip, I allowed myself only a second to aim before launching the thing at the creature’s throat. It was an attack made of desperation, and I certainly didn’t expect it to be a killing blow; just enough of an irritant to buy Tanis time to accomplish whatever it was she had planned. Imagine my surprise when the blade sunk into its neck up to the hilt. Imagine that surprise compounding and flirting with shock and despair as the brute reached up and pulled my weapon free, seemingly unconcerned with the bleeding wound it had created.

It swept its head back toward the guards and unleashed another rumbling shout of rage, logically assuming one of them had thrown the offending implement and not the chubby guy half-buried in the snow behind them. A hand like a pizza peel closed its fingers around one of the guard’s helmets, his screams joined by the battle cries of his fellows as they hacked at the goliath’s limb, trying in vain to prevent it from being wrenched off. The man’s body fell to the ground, though with good fortune his head was still connected to it, albeit battered and bloody from a monstrous fist squeezing his steel headgear shut before scraping it from his skull. Crushing it into a clump of slag, he used the makeshift weapon to add fully unnecessary extra force to another overhand blow that spilled a Crucible guard and another brave civilian who’d joined them to the ground. Those still standing took a cautious step back and the creature lurched forward in response, giving Tanis the opening she needed to leap down from her position in the branches of an overhanging tree and straddle her opponent like it was giving her a piggy-back ride. Tanis locked her ankles below the behemoth’s chin and drew two curved knives exactly like the one she held to my throat over a week ago, digging them into the chest and shoulders of the burly bucking bronco beneath her, using them to help maintain her seat and give the remaining men and women holding the line an opening. Sword after sword, blade after blade, thrust and stab finally tore open the belly of the beast, and it collapsed into the red ruin on the street below.

I collapsed backward, exhaling what felt like an hour’s worth of held breaths and letting my senses return to me. The shouting voices in the chill wind once again sounded like more than white noise, and I could feel a slight numbness in the parts of me that had been half-buried in frost. Wysteria shifted irritably in my arm, crawling onto my chest to take advantage of my warmer places. I took another careful lungful, drawing it in through my nose to let it warm up and letting it out again slowly, just like they told me back in gym class. A boot kicked at mine, and I opened my eyes to see Tanis smiling down at me, my throwing knife in her grip with its handle extended toward me. I accepted it and returned it to my satchel, and she offered me her hand to pull me up from the roadside.

“Thanks for this assist.” Her eyes glittered, reflecting the snow sparkling in the sunset.

“I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing,” I shrugged, still feeling breathless. “Even if I’m not half the fighter you are.”

“You got some tricks she don’t have,” said Red, padding up beside her. “There’s some people who need healin’, if you don’t mind?”

“Y-yeah, sure!”

It had never occurred to me that my spells could work on anyone but my own linked espers, but I supposed there was nothing in their descriptions in the grimoire that implied otherwise. I passed Wysteria to my baltic companion and Red led me to the first injured fighter; the polearm guy whose leg had been ripped clean out of the knee socket but was still somehow attached to his body. An az guard and a nezumi who sold me a bag of teriyaki-style chicken on a sticks just yesterday afternoon were holding the leg in place while the man tried his best not to squirm, biting down on a length of cloth. I was a bit hesitant, perhaps concerned my efforts wouldn’t be good enough, but as I worked the spell his struggling eased, and relief washed over the faces of the nezumi and the az.

“If you think you can afford another cast, it would mean the difference between him hobbling and marching the rest of the way to Brum,” suggested the rodent-faced culinarian, who I was beginning to suspect had expertise in more than chicken and delicious sauce.

I cast the spell again, with the nezumi’s thanks, before Red and I moved to the next fallen combatant; the man who lost his helmet. His injuries were more gut-churning to witness up close than I’d expected as a veteran horror movie fan, but thinking too hard about the real-life implications and how much it must’ve hurt, how terrifying it must’ve been to be at the visceral mercy of such an awesome pillar of muscle. I drew another long breath through my nose, but forced this one out of my mouth to steel my nerves. Messing up the spell would’ve been a waste of resources I was already running short on, but my efforts still left my hands shaky. The dead heap of meat wasn’t six feet behind me, and my brain was playing waking nightmares about it rising again to tear me apart while I tended to others’ injuries. I swallowed and wet my lips, asking a risky question at a whisper just in case the man beneath me was conscious.

“What… what was that thing?”

“Yeti,” Red answered. He caught my eyes and must’ve read the nerves on my face, since he continued. “It’s good an’ dead. Shouldn’t be any backup comin’ neither; they’re solitary creatures.”

“An’ they’re just… what, like wild animals? They just live around here?”

“Uh… yes an’ no. Animals is like mice, or chipmunks. Wolves. Yetis an’ other monsters might have, like, some kinda animal common ancestor, but they got magic in ‘em somehow at some point, an’ now they’re different. Could be a thin spot in the veil, some magic-user doin’ experiments, or who knows. I ain’t gonna pretend like I’m some kinda expert on monstrology.”

“Sure. I appreciate the peace of mind, though. Knowing it’s over for now…”

He nodded, and my fingers were indeed much more steady and ready for the arcane. To my surprise it only took one to close his wounds; they must’ve looked worse than they really were. The Crucible guard who hit the tree had unfortunately not survived so fixing him was well beyond my ken, if that was even a thing that was magically possible at all. However, as I got to my feet I found a few of the people filtering back onto Triangle Road seemingly waiting for me. There was a wrist sprained from tumbling into a tree, an ankle rolled trying to run through the drifting snow… they weren’t glamorous injuries and they’d mostly heal without sorcerous intervention, but I’d heard from a friendly neighborhood spider that great power came with great responsibility, and I intended to honor one of my childhood heroes. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I tried to cast past my final quarter of my maximum mana, but I dug deep, gritted my teeth, and forced the magic out of my body. A safe and sedentary life meant I only rarely had to push myself like that in the past, pushing past sickness or emotional strain to do something I felt was imperative at the time. It was usually pushing through a ten hour shift at work after I was left high and dry by less responsible coworkers, so it felt nice to call upon my reserves for an actual good reason. I managed to cast Healing Touch three more times before the whole procession had remobilized and Tanis sauntered up to me.

“Y’know a smarter guy would’ve charged for that,” she quipped, folding her arms across her chest.

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But it doesn’t cost me anything I’m not willing to lose, and it’s the right thing to do. If that makes me dumb, then I’ll be dumb.”

“Fair enough,” she chuckled and shook her head. “You continue to impress me, Glenn.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should!” Tanis tousled my hair as she moved past me, her expression somehow smug and proud at the same time.