The students waited for their teacher to arrive. Nobody knew how Kiel had convinced Zane to train with them, but they were incredibly thankful for the opportunity. Most of the great dragon’s chosen were too busy to waste their time training regular kobolds. They were out exploring the mountain or seeking their fortune.

Having one stay so close to the warren was practically unheard of. Though they wondered why Kiel had forbidden them from talking to the human. Occasionally Zane tried to test them, but the students knew the rules.

Alarm bells rang in the distance, shaking the kobolds from their daze of complacency.

“The warren is under attack!” shouted a young kobold as he turned the corner, “Humans are raiding the outer village!”

Senior student Lonny gathered the others and prepared to repel the invaders. He briefly considered opening Zane's door and asking for assistance, but decided against it. He didn't want to be rude.

***

Zane charged out to meet his foes and did a double take. There was nobody there to greet him. Sheepishly he lowered his spear.

“Hello?” he called out, “Is anyone home?”

“They're all outside fighting raiders,” said a small kobold Zane hadn't noticed, “Class is canceled for today.”

The human felt his eye twitch. “Class?”

“Yeah. You're Zane, right? You teach the defense against humans class.” The young kobold bowed respectfully. “I was hoping to take it this year, but I'm still too small.”

Zane's eye twitched again. “This year? What do you mean ‘this year’? How long have I been in this stupid cave?”

The kobold looked around uneasily, “Well, my dad took your class when he was younger. So, ten years. Maybe more?”

That couldn't be right, could it? Zane’s mind struggled with this new information. At first it seemed impossible. He could believe that it had been a few months, maybe a year at most. But a full decade?

Then a realization struck him. Time was relative. His days might only be minutes long, depending on what kind of trouble he was getting into. How many months had he wasted trying to expand his essence core? How many years had he been sparring with these young kobolds?

“Bring me to Kiel right now,” Zane demanded, “That bastard has some explaining to do.”

“I can't. The raiders killed him with a sneak attack. You'll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Zane sighed. Why couldn't things just be easy for once?

***

All seven hells were breaking loose in the outer warren. A group of raiders had targeted the kobold settlement and were doing their best to burn it down. That was the problem with living at the base of the mountain, too many murderhobos trying to grind experience.

Most of the warren was sheltered underground. But the wooden buildings they used to trade with passing merchants were quite flammable and exposed.

“For glory!” Shouted a man on a horse as he tried to spear a fleeing kobold. Just as he was about to close the distance a metal cable snapped taut, decapitating the raider.

The tide of battle was turning as the attackers stumbled into traps or were impaled on pikes. But more and more kobolds continued to fall in defense of their home.

Zane emerged from the warren, saw what was going on, and immediately returned to safety. Then he remembered he was basically unkillable and went back outside to get a better look.

One of the raiders spotted his red robes and charged at him like a bull. Zane effortlessly batted the man’s spear aside. He responded with a blow to the solar plexus, taking the raider out of the fight.

As if summoned by magic, three more men appeared. They wore black robes and wielded short, straight swords. Zane couldn't help but laugh. “Are you assholes supposed to be ninjas?” he asked.

This seemed to piss off their leader. The man was tall, almost as tall as Zane. “No, we are disciples of the honorable Rock Mountain Mollusk Sect. And we are going to make you regret the day you were born, interloper.”

Zane didn't wait to be attacked. He drew energy from his lower core, and struck.

***

Nam Lesgoon didn't have time to react. One second Zane was standing in front of him, the next he was gone. There was the sound of wood and metal breaking the sound barrier, then the two men to either side of him collapsed.

He looked down to see a spear point tickling the underside of his chin. The blade had a rainbow sheen, the color of essence.

“Oh shit,” Nam swore as he realized that somehow they had drawn the ire of a rogue cultivator, one capable of manifesting magical weapons, “A thousand apologies, young master.”

His knees shook as the man leaned in to get a better look at him. Off in the distance the other raiders were starting to retreat. “Why are you here?” Zane asked.

“It's nothing personal. We were employed to help provide security for Lord Grasa’s son as he leveled up. You know, stop him from getting himself in trouble.” Nam was sweating as he spoke.

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Zane looked back at the retreating force and spotted a young man with a red helm riding at the front of the group. He smacked the cultivator into unconsciousness with the shaft of his spear. “You stay here, I'll be right back.”

***

Sin Grasa, youngest son of Lord Bajade Grasa, was on top of the world. The raid had netted him two whole levels! He couldn't wait to tell his father all about it.

Shouts of shock and surprise shook him from his reverie. A red blur was coming up from behind, bashing riders out of the saddle as it passed.

“Rogue cultivator!” warned one of the men before he was unceremoniously punted off his horse. Sin watched the man sail through the air like a ball.

Fortunately for the young lordling, Zane wasn't able to catch up before he ran out of energy. Sin whooped and made rude gestures at the rogue cultivator as he rode away. “Eat my dust, chicken fucker!”

Zane paused, seemed to reach a decision, then took a running start and hurled his spear at Sin. The weapon sailed through the air, pierced through the young lordling's back, and knocked him off his horse. The survivors made no attempt to retrieve Sin’s body. It wasn’t worth dying for.

Zane walked over to the young lord to retrieve his spear. He looked down at the dead man with a curious sense of detachment. What had been a living breathing person a minute ago was now a piece of slowly decaying meat.

The young man had expected to feel something. But there was no guilt or shame. All Zane felt was the satisfaction of a job well done. That and a slight sense of pride at getting to show off his skills. Skills he had worked so hard to earn.

Ah fuck, he thought as realization dawned on him, I think I kind of enjoyed that.

A chime sounded in Zane's head to indicate that he had gained a level. The young man twirled his spear absent-mindedly as he planned his next moves.

Off in the distance the surviving raiders groaned. They were pretty beat up, but still alive. Zane reached a decision and began to walk towards them. It would be a shame to waste all that experience, he thought, Why should the kobolds get all of it?

***

After looting the bodies and securing a horse, Zane set off towards the mountains. He didn't feel like talking to Kiel, or risking getting put back in his cage. Questions could wait until the next time he died, which hopefully wouldn't be for a good long while.

As he rode, Zane pondered over his good fortune. Horses were usually worth a lot of money, and his pockets were full of the local currency. He picked up the pace as his stomach started to rumble. It felt like he hadn't eaten in years.

Zane laughed when the realization hit him. It had probably been over ten years since the last time he ate. This was just the first time he had lived long enough to get hungry. The young man had fantasized about food, sure. But he hadn’t needed to eat.

How bizarre, Zane thought, My perception of time is all screwed up.

The young man tried to wrap his head around the idea of subjective versus objective timekeeping. On average he had spent around an hour between respawns. That meant ten years to everyone else felt like less than six months for him. No wonder Zane hadn't noticed. He had probably clocked more hours than that on Skyrim.

Zane wondered if this kind of thing would happen to him more often now that he was a cultivator. While he was training or absorbing essence he tended to lose track of time. Combining that with the time-loss from the respawn mechanic was a recipe for disaster.

Would he end up like the ancient elves in fantasy games? They lived for incredibly long and were so detached from the human condition that they failed to notice the people around them dying of old age. He definitely didn't like the sound of that.

Despite his recent homicidal outburst, Zane enjoyed being around people. He liked talking to them and hearing about their lives. The possibility of becoming a cold, dead, humorless creature was horrifying to him.

He thought about the cores he had harvested from the cultivators. Despite what Kiel had said about there being three cores, only the essence core seemed worth harvesting. His class had made it easy, almost too easy, to cut into the men and retrieve their cores. There hadn't been much blood, so precise were his motions.

Zane knew that the meat of spirit beasts could be eaten to fill one’s essence. In theory, cultivator flesh would have the same effect. Though he wasn’t ready just yet to stoop to cannibalism. That sounded like going full murderhobo, and you never went full murderhobo. Speaking of which, he would probably have to find a way to put his class to good use, besides butchering fellow cultivators.

The young man also knew from his talks with Kiel that adventurers ascending the mountain would sometimes hire people like him to prepare their meals and carry supplies. The cooking part made sense. Butchering spirit beasts and harvesting cores was a delicate procedure. Though, he wondered why they would bother having people do work that was more suited to pack animals.

He could see a wide road made of golden yellow bricks that started at the base of the mountain range. It wasn't exactly rough terrain, and surely horses could move more quickly than people. So, why did they need sherpas?

It didn't make any sense to him. Though, Zane had to admit, he had spent the last decade living in a cave. And he wasn't originally from here either. There was probably something he was missing. Something obvious.

Zane tried to puzzle his way through it as he rode. The raiders had horses. In fact, he was riding one right now. So, why had Kiel told him that people would pay him to carry their stuff up the mountain? Had his teacher lied, or merely been misinformed?

The young man frowned as he thought of the raiders. They had called him a rogue cultivator. He wasn't sure if that was in reference to the fact he was unaffiliated with a sect, or because he had been kicking their asses. But he found it suspicious that they had been so quick to label him as a rogue.

Kiel hadn’t explained any of that to him. Most of what Zane knew about sects and cultivators was from stuff he read before he got hit by that truck. The kobold had sent him out into the world without giving him the sects talk, or explaining the ins and outs of cultivation.

No, Zane realized, Kiel hadn’t sent him out in the world. He had kept him trapped in a cave for over a decade.

Strangely enough, Zane couldn’t bring himself to be mad at Kiel for that. He was still processing the betrayal, if it had indeed been a betrayal. He didn’t know how to feel about it yet.

The kobold had found a way to help Zane level up while providing a benefit to his people. It wasn't the nicest thing to do. Yet, it had worked as intended. Zane had sliced through those other cultivators like butter. Now he was on his way up the mountain with a horse underneath him and gold in his pockets. Could he be mad at the kobold now that he had seen the results?

Before he could get too far into the philosophical weeds, Zane spotted a city in the distance. He picked up the pace, eager to get a hot meal and see what life was like outside the warren. For the first time in years, the young man had no idea what to expect, or where he would be tomorrow. It was an incredibly liberating feeling.

He had finally broken free from the endless repetition of death and darkness down in the warren. The city, and the mountains above it beckoned. They called to Zane’s soul in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It felt good to be free again, to be alive again instead of merely existing.

The rest of my life starts now, Zane thought to himself as he rode towards the city, And I’m going to make sure it’s a good one.