"He's coming to!" A voice calls out as I start to wake. "Don't sit up so fast."

Too late, I'm already sitting, and now my head hurts and everything is spinning.

"Take it easy," the man says. "Close your eyes and take deep breaths. We healed you, but there are some effects still there."

Even though I don't want to, I do as the man instructed. Just in case, I conjure two invisible [Flashbang Bomb]s and resummon the invisible [Air Barrier] I keep active at all times. It's always coating my skin in a thin film, but rendered invisible. Ever since that first time I used it, I've worked on sustaining it without thinking. That effort over this past weekish has turned it into an almost subconscious spell, so much so that I only need to activate it and then can forget about it.

Once my head stops hurting and the spinning sensation ends, I open my eyes and look around. The forest has been destroyed for a huge section, and many of the trees even around me are damaged. Everything for a huge area looks like it was simply incinerated, and much of the trees left around are burned or even charred down to stumps.

There's an unfamiliar man standing in front of me. He looks around sixteen or seventeen, and he has black hair and green eyes. He does look vaguely familiar, but I know I don't know him. He's dressed in black pants, a red tunic with some black to it, and is wearing black leather boots, belt, and match black leather cuffs on his wrists. It isn't until I see the flame emblems on his black leather gloves and notice the fire-shadow staff on the ground beside us that I realize why he looks familiar.

He bears a strong resemblance to Nicholas, one of Colt's friends. Brothers, maybe? At least now I know good looks run in their family.

"Take it easy," he says as I stand. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I killed five goblins, then somethin' went 'boom' and I blacked out."

He snorts, and for a moment, I think he doesn't believe me just 'cause my clothes are lower-quality than his and because I'm so skinny. Then I realize that my clothes are missing and I'm wearing a dark red tunic that's much too large for me and nothing else.

"What-"

"Your clothes were badly damaged," he tells me. "And you were covered in burns and wounds. We had to remove them to treat you properly. My healer is good, but not good enough to make sure there's nothing embedded in injuries. We had to inspect them and remove the debris that was stuck in you. Rather than putting you back in your ruined clothes, I put you in one of my tunics. We were on our way back from a campout from the last few days when we heard the explosion and saw the flames."

He seems to be honest, but I don't know for sure if I wasn't taken advantage of while I was unconscious. It's entirely possible he had his healer take care of things so that I wouldn't notice.

"Your pack was rather destroyed," the older teen tells me. "But we were able to salvage some of the stuff in it. Your coin pouch is right here. You've got a pretty good quality one for it to have withstood that much damage. Grade 2, huh?"

It was an expensive coin pouch, and I bought it just this morning for ten gold coins after a lot of haggling. I managed to get the price reduced by five gold coins. I was actually pretty scared to haggle in case slums kids aren't supposed to, but I gave it a try because lots of people haggle.

The leather is from some sort of highly-resilient boar and enchanted for added durability. According to the merchant, the tanning solution it was soaked in contained an alchemical mixture that added increased durability to it as well.

I almost bought a Grade 3 one, but that was going to cost me a lot more and I didn't want to give up that much money.

"Who are you?" I ask as I check the pouch, confirming that not a single coin is missing.

"My name's Peter," he introduces himself. "We managed to recover some magic items that were on the ground. They were good enough to survive, though a couple of them were still damaged by the fire. I'm going to assume they're from the goblins you said you fought."

"Two magic swords, a magic bow, a matching pair of magic knives, and a magic staff."

"That's what we found," he nods.

"Peter!" One of the two ladies in his group of five calls out. "Found something!"

"Come on," he says. "Let's go look at it."

I stand and follow Peter over, though still cautious. The lady introduces herself to me as Lydia, then shows Peter a crystal. The crystal is mostly red, but has some black and green streaked through it. Runes? Those are runes I'm seeing, right? But they don't look like the ones I know. The goblins' language?

The crystal is cracked as well, but it yields information when I read it.

Broken Deathbomb Crystal [Fire-Shadow-Air] Grade: 5 This crystal can be embedded into one's heart, and it will drain 0.100 Mana per second. If the heart of the owner is stopped for more than three seconds, this crystal will detonate, releasing a storm of fire, air, and shadow worth 750 Magic. The fire will be released as a swirling fireball that engulfs and burns all around. The air will be released as concussive waves that destroy all around. The shadow will be released as a sphere of shadows that darken the air and weaken and poison all within its grasp.

"Damn," Peter says. "Kid, did you kill all of them, or did you only kill some?"

Is he going to try to claim I only killed one, and then the crystal killed the rest?

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"All of them," I answer. "The mage was the last one. It told me, uh… my knowledge of their language is spotty, but it said that was my end."

"So it was the mage that had the crystal," he says. "Owen! Can you bring me the staff you said you found?"

One of the other men approaches, and I realize that they're all around sixteen or seventeen. Considering their equipment and attire, they're all probably nobles. Their families let them camp in the Great Northern Forest for a few days without bodyguards?

"This is the staff?" Peter asks.

"Yes," Owen answers.

"Holy…" Peter shakes his head, then examines the staff. "I'm right. This is Ak'Narul's staff."

"Ak'Narul?" I ask.

"A famous fire goblin mage," Peter tells me. "When I saw the stuff, I suspected it, but the description, it confirms it. Do you know about goblins and their names?"

"No?"

"A goblin doesn't have a name," he says. "Unless it's reached at least Level 50. At that point they're a great threat to a normal party of adventurers. When their name is in two parts, such as Ak'Narul's name, that means they've earned a Title. Ak'Narul is a rather infamous goblin mage from one of the goblin kingdoms further north. There's a bounty on his head of one platinum circle, if that tells you anything."

He had a bounty of what on his head? Does he mean a platinum ring? Why would someone be rewarded with a ring instead of money? How much is the ring worth? Does it do anything special?

"This staff of his is famous, too," Peter tells me, holding it out. "A Grade 5 magic staff of high quality, and even though it's wooden, it's quite resilient to damage. This is a trophy to be proud of, not just anyone could kill Ak'Narul. He was Ak'Narul, the Flaming Shield. He specialized in [Fire Bolt]s and [Fire Barrier]s, and that was usually all he needed to win a fight."

"And he had a deathbomb crystal embedded," Owen shakes his head. "Just as an extra 'fuck you' in case someone actually managed to defeat him. It's a good thing we got here when we did, you were suffering quite heavily from the curses."

"He probably had another twenty minutes before he would've died," the third guy says. "Kid's pretty resilient on his own. That's why I was taking my time to heal him and make sure I was getting everything. It wasn't that much of an emergency."

That explosion was still a few hundred points higher than my Constitution and Vitality. If I hadn't summoned up as many barriers as I did, I'd definitely have died before they reached me.

Who are these guys? I mean, I know that the names of three are Peter, Lydia, and Owen, and that they're a group of mages and warriors, and that they're definitely nobles, but… who are they? Why are they treating me like I'm a normal person and not scum? They had to have known from my dirty state and my pants that I'm less than a commoner.

Yet they treated me while I was unconscious and are talking as if I'm not some lower-than-dirt kid. I'm really suspicious of them, and I still don't know if they took advantage of me while I was unconscious.

"You guys don't seem bothered by me," I make sure to speak as well as I can. "Or suspicious of me. Or anything like that. You're just… accepting that I somehow took on a blast that strong. Even after seeing how bad my clothes were and that I'm obviously of a much lower station. How do you know I'm actually the one who killed it? Maybe it was someone else and you're just assuming it was me just 'cause I withstood the attacks."

All five of the party members look at me. Oh, crap. Oh, crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. That was too much, wasn't it? I'm about to apologize for being too bold with my words and for speaking out of turn, but Peter holds up a hand to stop me.

"When the eldest prince was nine," Peter tells me. "He began sneaking out of the capital to go hunting. By the time he was your age, he was Level 50 and quite the talented mage. Being of a good bloodline doesn't mean you'll have more affinities and grow more powerful more quickly. It just means that you're going to have a better affinity for learning and growing the element or elements you do have, and that you'll Level more quickly while using them. The son of a king, the son of a noble, the son of a commoner, the son of a whore, the son of a slums resident, none of that matters here. What matters is how you handle the cards the gods deal you, kid.

"You might be skinny and a little dirty and dressed in ragged clothes," he continues, referring to my old clothes. "One of which seemed new but already well-worn, but it was clear you were talented. Why would the person who won this fight leave behind loot as good as this staff? You were also unconscious in the blast zone as well as suffering effects from the curses. The damage to your body suggested either a high Constitution, a few strong barriers, or a series of less-than-sufficient barriers that weakened the blow. Based on this crystal's information, the way the curses were affecting you suggest a rather decent Constitution and Vitality, but probably not more than 500 of each. That's enough to know you probably handled this yourself."

"Also gave us some insight into your magics," the healer guy says. "You must have used light to reduce the shadow magics, water to help nullify the fire, and probably air to stop the physical aspect. I'd estimate at least three or four layers of each. You're at least a three-affinity, and for a kid who's clearly from a situation that's not so great, you're making quite a lot of use out of your talents. That's admirable."

They really don't care? And they could tell all that? They're only a few years older than I am. A good upbringing means a lot, doesn't it?

"Also," Peter adds. "We can sense your invisible spells. I'm not skilled enough to make out what they are, but I can tell that they're fairly strong. One seems to be a layer over your skin, too. A barrier, perhaps? That takes real talent, kid."

"You can sense them?" I ask.

"Barely," he shrugs. "They're inefficient and putting off a lot of magic, which is the only reason I can. You're clearly skilled to be able to do that, which means you've done a lot of training and a lot of Leveling. The only loot you've kept for yourself, however, seems to be that amulet. And yes, we were able to tell you're from the streets – the fact that you're hoarding money, your clothes, and the spot you put your pouch all suggested it. But that doesn't change the fact that you're talented, bud. Even a boy from the slums can make a name for himself if he puts in the effort."

He… really seems genuine on this. They all do. Are they acting?

"Your pack was destroyed," Peter changes the subject. "Do you want to carry your loot, or are you okay with us carrying it for you?"

"I'd like to carry me stuff," I answer, probably a tad too quickly.

"Alright," he says. "Do you want to head back with us, or do you want to do your own thing?"

Going with them makes me nervous, but I'd really like to get a new pair of boots. They've been okay so far, but they could also be acting. Just in case, I send a prayer to the gods to ask for protection.

"I'll head back," I tell Peter. "I want to get new boots before traveling around the forest a lot more."

"Okay," he says. "We're flying back, and-"

"I dunno how to fly."

"That's okay," Lydia says. "Only two of us have wind affinities. I'll do the flight itself, while Owen protects us with a barrier."

"Protect with a barrier?" I ask.

"When flying," Owen explains. "You have to deal with additional forces due to your speed. The wind feels thicker, and you run the risk of bugs flying into your mouth and eyes. Using a [Wind Barrier], you can protect from those effects."

"Oh," I say. "Okay."

The group members hand me the magic items and the stuff remaining from my pack, and they were right – only the staff came out of without any damage at all. They also handed me the broken deathbomb crystal. Once I'm ready, Lydia lifts us up into the air with her magic, wind swirling around us.

"Ready?" She asks me, and I nod. "You're going to love this."