“Liam, you have picked up what I can teach you with a sword and a mace with surprising speed.” Cerebaton’s blunt statement brought me to a halt as I reset for our next round.

It was another Tuesday night, and I had spent most of the day working through my thoughts with the different powers to take—knowing I’d need to make a decision soon—and had been looking forward to the mindless exertion of working with Cerebaton. One of the things I hadn’t expected to miss so much from working at Rykol Foods was that physical exertion. I missed it less when I spent time with my girls, and not just because Kassandra and Rieka did their best to wear me out, either.

“That sounds suspiciously like you might be about to stop training with me?” I asked, letting the wood sword I held settle onto my shoulder. I didn’t relax quite yet. After fighting with Valda the other day and learning under Cerebaton for the last several months, I knew better than to relax while we still were sparring.

“It is, unfortunately,” Cerebaton said with a huff while planting the tip of his wooden sword into the deck of the gazebo we used to train at in the park. “I was able to get approval to train you like this as part of the compensation for the accident that led to you becoming a traveler. With you having crossed the second threshold in the System, the higher-ups are pressuring me to cut the additional costs of these training sessions.”

“That is fair,” I said with a shrug. Cerebaton looked up at me, surprise engraved on his handsome features. Again, I was struck with just how much he reminded me of a young Dolph Lundgren with the aggressive chin and high cheekbones coupled with his shockingly blond hair.

“I’m surprised that you are so okay with this. I half expected you to be upset,” Cerebaton said slowly, still not moving from his pose with hands folded on the pommel of his practice sword.

“It was going to happen, eventually. Would I prefer it if I could keep sparring with you? Of course. Do I understand that you have limitations? Totally.” I shrugged again with an easy smile and the big man relaxed his shoulders and slumped slightly.

“There are a few things I could still teach you, but you have absorbed the vast majority of what will matter. The fact that you are already working to improvise and add in your Shape-Shifting with your fighting means that you just need someone to spar against more than anything else. We can still meet up for that on occasion, but these formal training sessions are not something I can continue to justify with your runaway success so far.”

“Runaway success?” Cerebaton had relaxed enough now that I felt comfortable to approach and not expect to get smacked in the face with his practice sword, so I ambled over to him. The big man sighed and nodded.

“Hitting that second milestone so soon after the first was what threw the flags up for the higher-ups. If this was me training you to work with the DSR rather than just as a compensation, then I could get an extension. But that would be the only way and it’d require you actually signing on as an employee. Something that your non-daemon status would make impossible.”

“Yeah, nothing like going into an office where the furniture itself wants to eat you, right?” I joked, getting a smirk from the large man.

Cerebaton glanced around at the dark park for a long moment and sighed again before looking back at me.

“Liam, shall we call it an early night and go get a beer?”

Not really having a reason beyond wanting to continue to train, and honestly I’d been doing so much of that for the last two weeks that taking some time while back here on Earth sounded good—I nodded.

“Yeah, let’s head back to my place and I’ll drive us. Do you have your straw with you?”

<><><>

Cerebaton did have his straw. Apparently, it was part of a small kit that he carried with him whenever he was ‘in the field’ and according to the disguised daemon, any time he was out of his home dimension he considered that to be in the field.

The Brass Monkey was a decent place that I enjoyed, though the last time I’d been here was with Jameson and that miniature miscreant had gotten into a fight over a game of darts. I’d stayed away since then to give tempers time to cool and because money had been tight. Now though, even without a job, I was doing better based on what my savings account was looking like.

“I’ve got the tab tonight,” Cerebaton said as I angled us towards a corner of the dingy bar that was clear. For a Tuesday night, the place was fairly well populated with over a dozen people scattered around that had the tired air of regulars about them. Most sat clustered near the two threadbare pool tables, but a trio of women sat in a booth by the long window talking over drinks and finger-food.

“If you insist,” I said with a shrug, gesturing for Cerebaton to pick which stool he wanted. The daemon chose the seat furthest into the corner, a decision that confused me at first until I realized it was likely to minimize the chance of him casually touching something or someone and his nature dissolving it.

“Since we cut short our training session, I can bill it as a business meal. I’m still irritated with my superiors for cutting my time training you short, so they can buy us a few drinks as compensation,” Cerebaton chuckled as he got settled.

While I blended in fairly well with my old work boots and a battered jeans and t-shirt combo, Cerebaton stood out in his full-coverage jogging suit and gloves. If the bar had been more busy, it might have caused some problems or attracted attention, but the regulars were more focused on their individual distractions and the bartender had a glazed look in her eyes when she ambled over to take our orders. The Brass Monkey did a fair job on their burgers, so that’s what I got, while Cerebaton got a loaded-fries plate to go with our beers.

Once we had the drinks in hand and Cerebaton had inserted the odd straw he had to use into his, he held his pint glass up in one gloved hand and we clinked them together.

“To bosses who won’t leave well enough alone. May they get the rewards they richly deserve,” Cerebaton toasted, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

You could say the girls are my bosses now, since they are the ones summoning me and giving me work. Though if they get the rewards they deserve for that, then they’ll be very well off, I thought with a small smile. They are easily the best kind of bosses I’d ever had.

Once we’d both had a drink from our beverages, Cerebaton leaned forward onto the bar top with a long and drawn-out sigh. I could tell that Cerebaton wanted to say something, but didn’t want to pry, so I just waited.

“You know, I really do wish that I could just hire you to work for the DSR, Liam. I actually put in the paperwork to see if we could get you on the books as a contractor.”

The blunt statement from the normally dour man made me blink, and I took another drink from my pint to give myself time to think. Cerebaton stared down into the dark red liquid inside his glass that still fizzed slightly from being poured.

“I take it that it wasn’t approved?” I said after a long moment of thought.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“No, shot down by my supervisor. ‘Travelers are too temperamental’ is what she told me. I think she just didn’t like the fact that she would have to come here to interview you, and she couldn’t demand that you spend time in the office,” Cerebaton grumbled, taking another deep drink of his beer.

I wondered for a moment if the big man was even going to be able to get drunk on alcohol from Earth, or if his unique biology would just dissolve it all inside his stomach before the chemical could make its way to his bloodstream.

“Sounds like bosses everywhere, to be honest,” I said instead of commenting on his drinking.

“I do my best to not be one of those bosses myself,” Cerebaton grunted. “The people in my department seem happy enough, so I guess they prefer my way of doing things.”

“I know Cari looks up to you as a great boss,” I offered, which got a little laugh from the daemon sitting next to me.

“Miss Cariad is a great example of what a motivated employee can do. She’s been working hard to help out with the workloads of her fellows, since the only case she has currently is yours.” The pride in Cerebaton’s voice was obvious, but the reminder of Cariad’s status in his department sent my mind spiraling down a line of thinking that I didn’t like.

“Hey, question for you. If your boss is pressuring you to stop the extra training, then can’t they also pull Cari off my case?”

“Not a chance,” Cerebaton growled, his voice dropping several registers and shaking with anger. “My superior can cut me off from this, as I was already walking a line for compensation over your situation and using the excuse that you were unprepared as the reason. There is no reason they would have to give orders to change or remove someone from a case. In fact, the only one who handles that kind of arrangement in my department is me, and they would have to replace me first.”

The relief that Cerebaton’s words gave me was palpable, and I was about to thank him when our food arrived. Another thing I’d always enjoyed about the Brass Monkey was that it had fast service. I’d been to bars in the past where even appetizers took half an hour to an hour to arrive, regardless of how busy the night actually was.

Digging into our food, the conversation turned to my recent exploits and the fruits of said labor. Cerebaton had a fair bit to say about my skill choices and some advice to give.

“Unlike Cariad, I’ve seen someone weaponizing entropic energies before. It’s not a pretty sight to see, but very effective. Also, your people’s knowledge of it is inherently flawed, given the youth of your species.”

I glanced at the bartender to make sure she wasn’t close enough to catch word of Cerebaton’s ‘species’ commentary. I had a ready-made excuse revolving around the idea of LARP if she did, but the dark-haired woman was leaning against the taps while doomscrolling on her phone, her back obstinately towards the rest of the room at the moment.

Clearly not in it for the tips tonight, it seems, but there isn’t really a large tipping crowd either, I thought before turning my attention back to Cerebaton.

“How so? I mean, you likely have a far stronger grip of what entropy means as it’s part of your makeup.”

“Indeed, there is a lot that makes more sense from the other side. The inherent instability of being a living creature, which necessitates organization to survive, but somehow has a primal force that makes up a portion of our beings, which consumes and dissolves organized matter, is strange enough. It’s not quite the same thing, given the whole matter-vs-antimatter debate as well, but I won’t bore you with the details. But I believe your theologians have a saying about monkeys and typewriters?” Cerebaton paused in his description to stuff a mouthful of cheese and meat shrouded fries into his mouth and chew.

“Yeah, I’m familiar with that one. Something about how utter chaos will eventually spit out something organized and coherent?”

Cerebaton nodded, still chewing for a moment before swallowing and continuing.

“Yes, basically. Your science views entropy as the heat-death of your universe. It will eventually be the end of all things. But in reality, it is a natural state. Once everything devolves back into that primordial chaos once more, the process will then reverse and start flowing the other direction. It is something that the DSR has observed in several of the dimensions we look after already, but the process takes so long that it is simply a recorded event, not one that anyone alive has witnessed.”

“Okay, that is good to know. So it’s not that the clock will eventually run down and everything will cease to exist then?”

“Yes. And the reason that I’m telling you this all is more to reassure you that, if you were to choose to begin to practice such magic, it isn’t going to appreciably speed up the end of your reality. Not unless you decide to start setting off cascading reactions that devour planets, and for that sort of thing to happen, you will need far more mana than your body will hold.”

Cerebaton spoke with such calm confidence about actions that would destroy an entire planet that I was more than a little chilled at the idea. That kind of power was rather intimidating and made me question the intelligence of taking the power as it were.

“So you think—”

“That you should take the primal magic option and pick up entropy. It’s a powerful tool to have in your arsenal, but you need to be very aware of who and what you use it on.” Cerebaton shot me a sidelong look, his expression intense as he continued. “You have so far displayed a level of competence and honesty that means I have no hesitation in trusting you regarding this, or for recommending it.”

“That’s good to know. I have been thinking it over since I mentioned it to Cari the other day.”

“Yeah, she brought your concerns to me as well. It’s why I wanted to reassure you. Ultimately, it is your choice to make, but I think it is a solid choice.” Cerebaton gestured with his fork that had a load of french fries impaled on it currently. “You’ve already done the other half of what I would recommend, which is to raise your stats up. They contribute so much to what you are doing that they are the most effective way to give yourself a boost.”

I nodded, still chewing my burger while I thought it over before shrugging. I’d been keeping the idea to myself and figured it was finally time to bring it up. And as he was another person with the Shape-Shifting ability, he might know the answer to my thought.

“Hey, Cerebaton. Are you familiar with the Shape-Shifting (Elemental Alignment) ability?”

The question caught the big man by surprise, and he paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Cerebaton continued to sit there for several long moments before carefully setting the fork down and turning to look at me.

“Do you have access to that power?”

Cerebaton’s question was quiet, but his voice was very intense. I considered hedging, but given the last several months I’d spent working with him and with Cariad, I felt like I could trust him.

“Yeah, I’ve had access to it for a while. I just didn’t buy it because I didn’t see the use for it. I was worried that it would lock down the elemental manipulation, so I couldn’t use it for something else. Now that I have it, I was able to test and find out that it’s useful for enhancing my defense with the earth effects. I was wondering if it would—”

“Yes.”

“What?” I blinked at Cerebaton in surprise and he waved the hand that had been holding his fork.

“Yes, it will do what you want it to. Whether it will be strong enough to do it right away, I am not sure. But it would be something to practice.” Cerebaton didn’t look away. His full attention remained focused on my face as he waited for my response.

“You think that—”

“If you take the ability to manipulate entropy with that power, and then combine it with Shape-Shifting (Elemental Alignment), you should be able to tinge your body with entropic energy and be able to endure touching a daemon.” Cerebaton’s lips ticked up in a smile, but the daemon still didn’t blink as he continued to watch me. “I would offer my services to test it out, but I have a feeling you might already have a daemon in mind. Make sure you actually warn her first. The last thing I can imagine Cariad would want is to see you hurt. And if you hurt her…” Cerebaton let the sentence trail off with a threatening rumble to his voice.

“Come on, Cerebaton. You know me. I would never do anything that would hurt her or any of the girls I know.” I shot him a mock glare and the big man grinned finally and looked back at his food.

“Of course. But I would have been remiss if I didn’t at least level a warning to you. I need to look out for my subordinates, after all.”

“That much, I can accept,” I replied, and then turned the conversation back towards other subjects. Though my mind continued to wander back to the potential that this could give me. Both as a weapon that would help me protect the girls, and would actually open an avenue for a connection that I had basically consigned to be impossible.

My mind kept returning to wondering just how soft Cariad’s lips had looked the last time that I had talked to her. I knew that Cerebaton was aware of my wandering thoughts from his smirk, but at least the big guy had the kindness of not actually bringing it up.