1.

Grimv attacked with the ferocity of a feral badger. His axe sang a harmony of death as the sharp steel split the air in a discordant howl. Santi didn’t dance backwards for once, but met him on open ground. The morph blade twisted and struck, wily as a serpent, darting around the dwarf’s guard and striking his thick breastplate with a loud gong sound.

The dwarf grunted and stopped, surprise crossing his face as he nodded his wide, sweaty head at Santi. It was a good point, their duel not putting the two combatants at even points. Grimvr had earlier managed to land a powerful blow with his axe in Santi’s gut, only the heavy armor he wore prevented himself from being disemboweled.

The sparring armor was a heavy duty plate that stretched from crown to toes and could repulse nearly any causal blow. Torin had worked hard in weaving his magics in it to make it light and impregnable as long as one didn’t use any type of skills or spells on it. A mundane weapon was for all intents and purposes useless against it.

“You’re getting better,” the dwarf said, voice only partially muffled. The steel had been made transparent somehow and the two could look each other in the eyes as they fought. Torin’s works now graced both Santi’s own personal collection and Homebase’s practice yards.

“I had to trick you.”

“Matters little to the tricked if their guts are on the ground. Honor and skill are only useful for the living after all,” the dwarf said with a wide grin.

“True enough. To three?”

“Of course, on my mark?”

“Say when.”

“WHEN!” Grimvr didn’t give Santi time to prepare, lunging forward and sending a crippling blow for his right knee. Forced to twist away, his counter lacked the heft and speed needed to bring the smaller fighter down. Grimvr simply smacked the dull point of the morph blade away with a gauntlet.

The dwarf kept himself tight to Santi, his double headed axe a frenzy of slashing steel that took every ounce of Santi’s ability to stay ahead of. He had the advanced stats needed to beat the dwarf easily, but ever since the dwarf’s evolution a week ago, it seemed to matter little. In a contest of skill, where both parties tried to restrain themselves to a normal level, Santi was coming out on the losing end too often for his liking.

Santi blocked a swing, diverting the axe away from himself and lashing out with his armored foot toward Grimvr’s side. Steel clanged on steel and Grimvr grunted, but didn’t slow as he let go of the axe and tackled Santi around the waist, driving him into the dirt.

The dwarf was shorter than him, but heavier, and Santi struggled to get out from under him as metal plated fists rained down on his own armored forearms. The morph blade made it so that he was never unarmed and it changed from a sword to a dagger and Santi drove it at Grimvr.

Grimvr saw it coming and his thick hand caught Santi’s wrist, holding his wrist still as the two of them strained. The heavy blows continued to come though, battering him around as Santi tried to finish him off.

“WHAT! ARE! YOU! DOING!” Torin’s voice was a bellow across the field, freezing both of them in mid action. They turned and looked at the slightly older dwarf who stood there, face mottled red with fury.

“Sparring?” Grimvr responded, his deep voice suddenly unsure.

“Sparring requires weapons. Not beating my fucking armor like a pair of drunken pugilists!”

Grimvr scrambled to his feet and offered Santi a hand up, hoisting him with ease. They both pulled their clear helms off and Santi sighed with relief as the fresh air chilled the sweat on his face.

“Sorry Hall Master. I apologize for disrespecting your craft,” Grimvr bent his head in apology and Santi did too, recognizing a cultural lapse here. He had no idea why Grimvr was suddenly so sincere and apologetic and why the normally relaxed Torin looked ready to strangle the two of them at the same time.

Torin released a huff of air and turned back to the house that Santi and his family had taken up in. After…after, they had moved. It had been a quick and simple decision and their limited amount of stuff had taken only an afternoon to move.

The new house was larger and slightly further away from Homebase which had slowly lost its central importance. Now it was almost exclusively a medical facility that Tank and a few doctors ran. They kept stores of System rewarded health potions there, bought at good price from Santi. A small garrison was stationed in the old house, a half dozen of the better fighters that remained with Helena.

Most of them had migrated to the new reformed scavengers under Rayleigh. They ranged further and further now, stretching far outside of the city limits and they were encountering more and more powerful beasts. Tristan and Chad had branched off as hunters, chasing game down and bringing back Acolyte level meat for the settlement with a few others.

The last six weeks had seen their small settlement undergo rapid change as the new order began to sink in. Marisol and Helena kept up their end of the bargain and a Bill of Rights had been drafted and posted along with a set of simple rules and the punishments for breaking said rules. Helena was left in charge of that.

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Santi and what was left of his team focused on clearing dens, more troublesome and powerful monsters, and the occasional rift. Chad had left to become a hunter and Tank spent most of his time running his infirmary, but would tag along for the more dangerous runs. Bianca and Cameron hadn’t flinched from the course and Chloe stayed as a central pillar.

Daniel and Hana had formed a ranger company of sorts, half scouts, half hunters, and completely nutty. When Santi put out the word for a hunt they showed up though, the two of them never going far from each other. Six weeks could change a lot of things, but it also made some things clear.

It was different. Quiet. Empty. There was a space in all of them now that couldn’t be filled, only covered up. Mom was the worst. Her silence had been broken and her quiet tranquility replaced by a woman driven by raw madness. She trained constantly. With the dwarves, scouts, fighters, scavengers, anyone and everyone who would face her across the dueling ring.

Every day there were less who were willing to do so. Her skill with the spear Torin had made for her as a funeral gift, another cultural difference, was growing by leaps and bounds. It wasn’t natural. There was nothing natural about twenty hour days of training.

She lived in the arena, and if it wasn’t for the new requirements to venture out of the city limits, she would be out there. Anyone who wished to leave the city had to be Acolyte level or higher. Peak Initiates could leave the walls of the settlement, but even then they were given strict warnings. It was simply growing too dangerous for those who hadn’t gotten strong enough to fight out there.

Torin had taken an interest in Mom’s training and had decided he’d craft her armor. Full plate, light as a feather and stronger than oak he had claimed. The translation had claimed it, but Santi figured it was close enough. Going with her shield and spear he had already made her, she’d be the best equipped person in the entire settlement barring Santi’s personal team.

Yessenia had went in the other direction. She didn’t leave the laboratory she had made for herself underneath the house without family around her. A low level Acolyte golem stood guard outside her door, courtesy of Grimvr who had made it to her to pay for his evolution. Her own evolution had seen her class change from [Planner] to [Ritualist]. It was a powerful class and already multiple spells were placed around the house, just waiting for the right word or trigger to ignite their protections.

“Good fight. It would have been better if the Hall Master hadn’t interrupted us, but I was sure of victory.”

“Your victory?”

“Oh of course, if it wasn’t for the thick helm, I would have caved in your thick skull!”

“If it wasn’t for that armored gauntlet, this thick skull would have broken your fingers!”

“Oh, lad. I don’t think that had the sting you think it did.” Grimvr offered him a sly smile and the two walked to the water bucket they kept in the back under the shade. It wasn’t for drinking, but rather for clearing the sweat, blood, and dirt off of themselves. A little plastic First-Aid kit hung on a hook. The only thing inside of it was a pair of healing potions that Santi had earned two weeks ago.

“I wanna go with you and your peoples the next time you go out. I need the levels,” Grimvr said.

“That didn’t sound like much of a request. More of a demand,” Santi fired back.

“Damn translator is removing the nuance of my words, I can assure you, I was quite polite with my groveling,” Grimvr lied.

“Oh, might as well. It shouldn’t be too much longer. Daniel said he had found some tracks to where he thinks the others might have fled too.”

“The rest of the traitors?”

“Yes. He’s been searching for a while now. North and East, toward the mountains there. Plenty of small towns and cities they could be hidden in until they reach the mountain passes.”

“Did not Cameron say his father was in the mountains?”

“Much further South. Weeks of traveling from here.”

“He’s getting anxious about it. He’s talking to your sister when we all spar together.”

“It makes sense. The competition is almost over and then we can be on our way and start heading down there.”

“I think I want to go with you.”

“Leave your clan mates?”

“This is a new world and I wish to see it. They will understand.”

“I have no objection. I don’t know who’s going to be going yet, but it won’t be much longer.”

“Good, now let’s get dinner ready, shall we?”

“You’re just freeloading. You saw that deer Tristan brought in and the potatoes that Hestor harvested,” Santi deduced, staring at the little glutton.

“Much better than the ration bars. And we are good friends, are we not?”

“Good enough friends that I’m willing to trust you with an important task tonight.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever peeled a potato?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Come my friend and I will introduce you to peeling potatoes. It is a very important job.” Santi led him into the house and the kitchen that they were all using. Santi had salvaged what he could from their destroyed kitchen and the heavy cast iron pans were still being used.

Bianca and Cam were sitting around the table, sipping on tea, while they talked quietly. A pile of forearm length potatoes sat behind them in a red plastic bucket. Thick stalks of fresh asparagus were on the counter and the deer that Chad had brought down a day ago had been butchered and choice cuts brought over.

Cam and Bianca took one look at the duo, glanced back at the pile of vegetables, and fled without a word. Cam engulfed Bianca’s free hand in a smooth motion as they raced away.

“They will not be partaking in the peeling of potatoes?” Grimvr asked.

“They are weak people, my friend. Not worthy of the task before you.”

“I am beginning to feel as if I have been tricked.”

“No, no, not at all. You’re going to earn your food tonight though,” Santi let slip a now rare smile as he grabbed a knife and showed Grmivr the proper way to peel a potato.