He remembered little of the week following his victory.

Fragments were all he could claim of his time. Soft sheets on blazing skin sunlight through an open window and the scent of hayseed carried on a gentle breeze. Roses in bloom on a bedside table, the taste of watery soup and the feverish heat that tortured his body until sleep came to relieve him anew.

Then there were the dreams, those contemptible visons branded themselves in memory while all else faded. Of faces half-forgotten and violence meted out at the height of his arrogance. Lowly transgressions answered with disproportionate bloodshed. Laughing women who cinched him tight around their fingers. A white rose, a smiling demon with devilish eyes and another who watched silently, picking up the pieces every time one chipped loose.

Worst were the visions of his sister's expression.

Fear.

Hate.

Pity.

Gods, but he hated pity. Hated how she’d looked at him as he’d threatened that boy, like her brother had come back broken.

Truthfully? She'd been more right than she'd known.

He knew he’d snapped at some point- long before the breakdown on the beach.

No, the fiend knew.

Knew Leon Knox had never really left the Proving Grounds.

He’d walked in and the Stormbound Swordsman had walked back out, pieces of the man grafted atop a creature of violence, mania and ego.

Didn’t matter now. Couldn’t put those pieces back to how they’d been.

Regardless, he didn’t think the old Leon would want that.

He’d drawn closer to his dream of standing atop the world as the strongest swordsman.

Sure, the world had gotten bigger, but his dream remained, at its core, the same and this thought kept him from succumbing.

When the fever finally broke, he woke alone to a room full of moonbeams cast by a lonely crescent in the starless sky, his head throbbing as he rose from sheets stained yellow by putrid sweat.

Someone had stripped him bare in his delirious state. His armour and arms lay piled within his storage ring, the only article remaining on his body- though calling a ring clothing didn’t feel right.

Absentmindedly poking at the abs he’d developed, Leon rose, finding a baggy tracksuit placed on a chair beside his bed.

Zipping himself up, he ignored the protest from his sore legs as he moved forward, the Void Aegis sliding atop like a second skin, dark armour drinking in the pale light, practically purring as it moulded to fit around its owner.

Choosing to go without arms at his side, the swordless swordsman greeted the night air with a great inhale, sucking down a lungful of air that burned his lungs and invigorated his soul.

Holding it there, staring up at a night sky devoid of stars, made him feel strangely alone.

Somewhere out there, in the great darkness, a devil, the oldest Swordfiend and his innumerable enemies dwelt.

Sobering.

Exhaling, he flipped his hand over, a reassuring scar on his palm running parallel to the accursed demon brand upon the back.

Casting his gaze back upon the earth revealed a positively quaint little bungalow to his right, beside the identical one he’d emerged from. Both houses lay ringed in by a low stone wall that called to him.

Soon he’d thrown himself atop it, leaning back while he waited, the fires burning in the city on the horizon a comforting sight.

Didn’t even have to wait long.

A bang from behind served as his only warning before her shout shattered the silence.

“You!”

Still facing forward, he answered.

“Me. Morning.”

“It’s three A.M!”

“That’s still morning last I checked.”

That she didn’t teleport herself beside him must have taken considerable restraint and once she’d leapt atop the wall, resisting the urge to slap him must have taken more.

He found himself too distracted by the pale sheer dress his partner had worn to bed to consider much beyond making sure his eyes stayed glued to hers as she sat down beside him and smiled a smile that chilled his soul.

“So, still feel like- and I quote- the biggest fucking winner to ever do it?”

He’d lost the argument already and had thus turned to more productive uses of his time. Leon had spent the last however many seconds staring at her lacy black bra. His herculean effort to stop his gaze from roving further down went utterly unappreciated. He heard her plastered-on smile grow wider.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Oh no, hold on! You had more to say- quote- 'Octavia, I am literally the best, those guys fucking sucked hard, even Tits the healer but at least she helped a little. Kinda wish she sucked harder though.' End quote. You then laughed at your own crass joke until you threw up. This began a cycle of laughter and expulsion, one which continued until you passed out in your own vomit- the bulk of which was half-digested chicken wings and rotten corpse flesh. The mana poisoning left you bedridden for a week. So what have we learned?”

Leon had learned that even mages benefitted from increased Power, if only for a toned midriff but suspected that answer would get him flambéed.

Capitulation seemed the better part of valour here.

He’d snapped his head back up to maintain eye contact, laid both hands on her shoulders and given her the answer she wanted.

“Sorry. For making you worry. Thanks for looking after me, partner. I’m really grateful.”

Dropping his arms back to his side, he let her bluster for a moment, her entire face flushing crimson before he spoke again.

“Killed the wight, by the way. Not sure if I established that. Had a few complications, but it all worked out. Anything we need to do?”

Something in his tone brought her back to earth, the blush dissipating in an instant as she considered him more seriously.

“A few irons in the fire, but nothing that needs your particular brand of overwhelming violence.”

“Cool, cool. Well then, I’m gonna get high as fuck on psychedelic aphrodisiacs, in the absence of any grass. It’s been a long... month and a half?”

“Month and three quarters.”

“Oh yeah, lost a week.”

Watching smoke plume over the high rises and skyscrapers, Leon pulled the Wakeleaf from his ring alongside his old Mana for Dummies book, ripping pages out to use as rolling papers.

He stopped only after Octavia scooched closer to inspect his work, letting out a low whistle.

“Aged Wakeleaf? Well, more power to you, I suppose.”

“I can handle it.”

“Oh, no, the psychedelics are exceptionally weak. Hardly lasts any time at all but the stuff is renowned. Summoners can’t take it, necromancers avoid it and if you have a pet you’d need to arrange alternative care for it.”

Rolling up two joints packed full of the yellow leaf, he eyed her suspiciously.

“Sounds like bath salts.”

“Ugh, it’s worse. They call it Wakeleaf because you become too aroused to even sleep. Lasts nearly twenty hours and leaves you craving more. Put it aside, please.”

With a coy smile, she leaned in.

“You could have just asked me for marijuana you know?”

“Didn’t seem like your scene.”

“Telesales remember? Everyone I worked with had a drug habit. Mostly coke, but I will admit... I developed a fondness for marijuana.”

“You sound like a cop. Just call it grass.”

“Well, excuse me for preferring the proper name for such devious things.”

Why she’d bothered to store a baggie packed with weed in her storage ring… well, Leon had shoved more than a few suspect things in his own ring.

Wasn’t really his place to judge.

Seconds later, she’d rolled a joint and lit it up with a flame from her fingertip, taking a deep drag and passing it to him.

He enjoyed the silence as the drug kicked in, a familiar slightly discomforting sensation as he felt his own blood flow more keenly. His own heartbeat pounded like a drum in the warm night air, somehow still comfortable despite the early hour.

His armour rolled back, stripping itself from him at his command, leaving him in the tracksuit he’d donned as they quietly indulged in an unhealthy coping mechanism.

“I miss music.”

She’d sounded almost wistful as she spoke, brilliant red hair trailing down her back, the lit end of the joint casting the smallest of shadows on her face.

Another drag, then she elaborated as Leon took his turn.

“Always used to have music playing when I did this. Never thought I’d miss it.”

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Leon answered automatically.

“I miss the internet. Dunno what the System equivalent is, but I miss good old Earth internet.”

She laughed even though it wasn’t funny.

“Right! This new network, it’s filled with pay-per-view tripe and really quite bland amateur work.”

Leon let the thought that cropped up go, sure that wasn’t a thread he wanted to pull. He had another in mind.

“Play a game with me.”

“Sure.”

“We ask each other questions. Rules are just that you have to answer and tell the truth. No matter how bad you get embarrassed. Whoever doesn’t answer first loses.”

She laughed again.

“But that’s such a girly game! Alright, alright. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Damn, you’re young.”

“You?”

“Shouldn’t ask a woman her age- twenty-four.”

“Damn, you’re young.”

The pair collapsed into giggles at that, which morphed into genuine laughter when they looked at each other and realised they were both high.

Holding up a hand, Leon begged for release.

“Alright, ow, fuck my head hurts now! Stop making me laugh, please!”

Straightening herself up, Octavia dropped her voice low.

“Damn Octavia, you’re super young but still older than me- and I super like that- look at me, my name’s Leon and I think I’m super funny.”

Her impression sucked, which just made him laugh more.

Flicking away the remains of the blunt, Octavia properly stopped to ask her next question.

“So my turn, why’d you click yeah on the Tutorial?”

He considered it for a moment; the haze making it hard to string together coherent thoughts, yet he still put together an answer.

“I don’t want to die a meaningless death.”

“Boo, you killed the mood, boo.”

“Your fault, you asked.”

“Not my fault at all, boo.”

“Why’d you do it?”

He’d given her pause as well, before she grumbled about being too sober still and lit up a second joint, only answering as Leon took his pulls.

“I wanted to run away. Would’ve taken any opportunity.”

“Why?”

“Bzzt! Not your turn!”

They smoked half the joint in silence before Octavia spoke.

“You doing okay?”

This time he didn’t need to think. He just opened his mouth and let his thoughts flow out.

“I'll live. Can't live if I'm stuck in the past. Just gotta keep moving forward.”

He let that hang in the air alongside a ring of smoke before speaking again.

“Thanks though. For asking and taking care of me. I’d have left me to die or I’d have freaked out and made things worse if you’d got sick. So I super owe you. You doing okay? Man, sorry I never asked, I feel like shit now.”

Trying to pin down one emotion proved impossible- he’d watched her shift from sad to angry then happy in four seconds flat.

Taking an exceptionally long drag, Octavia exhaled with a sigh.

“It’s weird but I am. But I feel bad that I don’t feel bad- does that make sense?”

He nodded because that felt right.

Receiving it graciously as reply enough, she continued.

“I mean, everyone I knew is dead. Gone, kaput and I just don’t really care that much. I care more about this moment, right here, than any of those people. They don’t feel real. Maybe I’m just cold-hearted.”

Her hand snaked across the stone to clasp Leon’s. To be fair, her fingers were noticeably colder than his, but he knew that wasn’t really what she’d been asking.

“You feel plenty warm to me. Plus, hey, you’re you, future greatest mage in all the worlds. So who cares if you’re a little cold?”

Later, he’d blame it on the fact that dawn broke right then and there, or the weed or his own emotional imbalances after a month and a half spent either fighting, working or stressing.

Her face lit up, right as the sun’s rays struck and she looked truly radiant.

At that moment, Leon thought it wouldn’t be so bad to die for someone else’s sake.