We located the dirt paths shortly before nightfall, leaving us just enough time to camp beside it.

Ben explained that low-leveled monsters tended to avoid signs of civilization, a behavior that guaranteed us a modicum of safety.

The trio erected a spacious tent, using a bunch of uprights and canvas from their inventories. Isaac crawled in for an early night’s rest, though not before helping to hitch the donkey to a post.

The rest of us huddled around a small campfire for a light dinner of sandwiches. Nicola produced them from her inventory, pre-packaged into neat, little pieces.

The chicken felt warm to the touch and melted in my mouth with toe-curling goodness. It confirmed my theory about inventories and their ability to preserve items as stored. My mind ran amok with the possibilities, but all of that could wait until after I’d devoured more sandwiches.

“Why bother with a wagon,” I asked through a mouthful, “when you can carry all you need in a pocket dimension?”

Ben paused in his chewing. “That’s the first time I’ve heard anyone describe inventories as such. Besides, they don’t work that way. There’s a weight limit for each item that can be stored.”

“Nothing living either,” Nicola added. “And, the Wood King ordered a flock of poultry.”

“What about corpses?” I asked.

“Instantly gets rejected,” Nicola said, shooting me a dubious look. “The [System] doesn’t allow the storage, in any manner, of any part of a [System] species. Monsters are considered an exception.”

As are animal parts, I thought, staring down at the sandwich.

Her answers raised questions about the [System]’s intelligence, considering its ability to differentiate between various types of items. The [System] was just about the closest thing Vizhima had to a god. Yet, Nana had merely considered it a force of nature.

Weird.

One more thing bothered me. “When you mention [System] species,” I said, struggling to articulate, “you imply that they are markedly different from monsters—”

“Of course, they are,” Nicola said. “Why do you even ask? The monsters might be able to view [System] screens and values, assuming they understand them. But, they can never select an affinity or class. Not like we can.”

“But, goblins are sapient,” I argued, unable to wrap my head around the concept. “How are they any different from elves or humans? What makes them monsters, and the rest of us not?”

The two rankers looked at me like I had grown a second head.

“I’m just performing a thought exercise,” I said, trying to correct my slip-up. “I’ve never thought about this before today.”

Nicola nodded slowly, hesitant to buy my excuse but still willing to discuss. “It doesn’t matter how much intelligence a monster possesses. They can’t be anything other than they are. This divide has existed right from the onset of time.”

“And, the fact that they disappear when looted? Why does that happen?”

“It’s because they have served their purpose,” Nicola said without missing a beat. “Monsters only exist to further our growth. The instant they are dealt with, they have no reason to persist on Vizhima.”

“Aye,” Ben said. “Looted or not, everyone rots eventually. Monsters simply vanish faster. Even without being looted, most monster corpses disappear over the course of a day.” He studied me with crumpled eyebrows. “Are the Dark Elves in Dreadwood pariahs or something? All of this should be common knowledge.”

It was, but I was also six days old. There was still more to Vizhima that I needed to uncover. And, every scrap of info learned meant an increase in my overall wellness.

Ben wiped his fingers on a napkin. “I was wondering if you could answer some questions of mine.”

“Sure,” I said.

He glanced at Nicola, fast enough that I almost missed it, but still slow enough to prove that the questions weren’t solely of his making.

“Your affinity,” Ben started, “I know you didn’t want to answer back when Nicola asked, but it’s Fear, isn’t it? That's how you handled the goblins.”

I held my breath and considered deflecting, but the cat was already out of the bag. No point in lying, not if I wanted to harvest them for more information.

“It is.”

Nicola inhaled sharply.

Ben gaped at me, then slowly shook his head. “I knew it. ‘Didn’t want to believe it, but there was little else it could be. You’ve never heard of the Lord of . . .?” He paused and looked over his shoulder as if expecting the night to clamp around him.

“I have,” I said, robbing him of the chance to finish the name. “And, it just happened, okay? The choice was wrenched from my grasp.”

“How does such a choice get wrenched from your grasp?”

Nicola made a noise as if to interrupt, then thought better of it and huddled into her blanket. Her skimpy robes provided little protection from the night chill, which seeped into my jerkin and gnawed down to the bone.

I still hadn’t taken a bath—a fact that would have discomforted me back on Earth. Growing up in a tropical city meant a daily routine of two baths at the minimum, but such luxuries now lay far behind me.

“I don’t like this,” Ben said, interrupting my musing. “But, I hope you stay out of trouble. Should you make true on your intent to visit the city, it would probably be for the best if you kept your abilities hidden.”

“More than just probably,” Nicola said. “I’m sorry, Damien. You helped us and all. But, every fiber of my being is screaming at me to physically dissuade you from visiting Skeelie.”

“Hey,” Ben said. “Let’s not go that far.”

“I know. But, I have family waiting for me back home. I don’t want to bring damnation down on their heads.”

I raised my hands in a placating gesture and tried my most charming smile. “I won’t stay too long in the city if that helps.”

“It would,” Ben said. “The dragon lords haven’t been seen in ages. But, old beliefs die hard. A lot of people still expect them to come swooping out of the sky someday and trigger World’s End.”

My stomach tossed. “That’s not a thing dragon lords can do, is it? End the world?”

“They ended their fair share of countries in their time,” Ben said with a shrug. “Even the Heralds think twice about locking horns with them.”

Hoo, boy.

I steered the discussion away from that topic. Mostly to prevent hypertension but also to avoid giving more thought to the quest. “So, how did you both end up becoming bodyguards?”

Ben chuckled. “We’re not bodyguards, Damien. We’re adventurers.”

I formed an ‘o’ with my mouth. “You belong to an actual, honest-to-god Adventurer's guild?”

“Certified and registered,” Ben said, puffing his chest. “Isaac needed armed escort for his little jaunt in Dreadwood. And, since he had a history with us, he approached us for the job.”

I didn’t know what to say. Ben’s revelation painted him in a new light, increasing my appreciation for the duo. I’d always thought highly of guilds and adventurers, courtesy of a lifetime of conditioning from roleplaying games. Meeting them in person . . .

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What’s life as an adventurer like?” I asked, almost falling into the campfire with how far I leaned.

“Brutal,” Ben said. “As if saving the coin for the World Shrine wasn't bad enough, you find out there isn’t much a ranker is good for except conflict and strife. Sure, joining the Guild grants you a measure of freedom. But, it's still one relentless fight after another to rank up, earn items, and take higher-paying jobs.”

“That . . . err, doesn’t sound too fun.”

“Fun?” Ben snorted. “It used to be fun, back in the early days. You start with big dreams about reaching Gold rank and, maybe, even Adamantium. You might even luck out and find a high-tier item during your first few weeks or run into a soulmate at the local tavern."

He stared into the campfire. “Then, the hits start coming. A routine quest goes wrong when you least expect it, leaving you clawing for life with 1 HP. Level-ups stop coming easily, and you fall behind on the rent due to an inability to save anything worthwhile after maintaining your gear.

“Your dreams of ascension end after the first plateau. You realize you have nothing to look forward to except endless grinding, bleeding, and loss.”

A pained expression stretched across his face, worsened by the lengthy shadows cast by the campfire. Raw emotion filled his voice, the weight of experience not mere hearsay.

I waited in terse silence for him to finish, unable to do as much as breathe.

“You know what makes it worse?” Ben said into the night. “It’s the fucking inevitability of the whole affair. If you end up being among the thirty percent who don’t die on the battlefield, you either quit the job or become a husk whose entire life is reduced to meaningless numbers.”

"Blood and numbers," Nicola said. "The ranker way."

Blood and numbers . . . That sounded morbid.

“But, yeah, it ain't too bad,” Ben said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Some people thrive in this profession. All the way down to their graves, at least. Less than one percent of all rankers make it to Adamantium. Makes you wonder what the rest are fighting for.”

“For family,” Nicola said, quietly.

Ben didn’t reply.

I liked these guys. For a duo of downtrodden adventurers, they still managed to perform admirably at their jobs. They didn’t exactly fit the criteria of strong allies, but wasn’t their steadfastness another kind of strength?

They were also closer to my level. If we banded together, we could accomplish stuff we wouldn’t have done individually.

I wet my lips. “Are you both interested in starting a party? With me?”

Nicola blinked groggy amber eyes. “What? Why?”

“Just asking. I have a couple of things I need to accomplish, and I would appreciate having honest people like you behind my back.”

Nicola gave me a look that roughly translated to ‘What the fuck are you on about?’

I must have cut a ridiculous figure, sitting there with my matted hair and dirty clothes. I’d probably given them more reason to be suspicious of me. Goddammit.

“What level are you?” Ben asked.

“Err . . . fourteen?”

“And this thing you need to accomplish,” Nicola said. “Is it dangerous?”

“More so than usual, yes.”

Ben leaned forward. “Do you have any experience adventuring with a party?”

“No. Not really.”

“What about remuneration?” Nicola interjected. “Is a ton of money going to be involved?”

“I don’t think so.”

The two shared another look.

“Damien,” Ben started, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re a nice lad, but I don’t think I want to hang out too long with the guy with a taboo for an affinity.”

“I have family to cater for,” Nicola said. “It would be irresponsible of me to go thrill-seeking, not when I can get by with regular jobs from the guild.”

Smoke wafted into my eyes from the campfire. I wasn’t crying at the rejection, okay? It was just wood ash.

I changed tack. “Do you think I would be able to recruit strong adventurers in Skeelie?”

“As long as you have the coin,” Ben said. “Skeelie’s a small city, but it is home to a labyrinth and generates sizable traffic each time the festival approaches. There's no shortage of expertise, that’s for sure.”

I furrowed my brows at his answer. Labyrinth? Festival? What did those mean?

“May I take the first watch?” Nicola cut in, barely stifling a yawn. “I feel like I would be very annoying to deal with if I slept now and was forced to wake later.”

Ben touched her shoulder sympathetically. “After the mess with the goblins, we would be better served taking the watch in pairs. You should probably retire first, Damien, if you don’t want an intermission in your sleep.”

I did as he advised. The duo had given me a lot to unpack, regarding rankers and the state of the world. They hadn’t fully satisfied my curiosity, but this much would serve in the meantime.

I crawled into the tent and huddled into a ball.

Isaac acted awfully chipper as we broke camp the next morning, which was just as well, seeing as he was the only one who had gotten a full night’s sleep.

I watched with rapt attention as he rekindled the campfire and earned an eye roll when I pointed out that he could simply throw burning firewood into his inventory.

We enjoyed a warm breakfast of bread, tea, and cheese, then continued on our journey. Daylight did wonders for the mood, accompanied by singing birds.

Isaac grilled me for every piece of info I could spare on the Dark Elves, but when I stopped being forthcoming, he switched to talking about Skeelie instead.

Apparently, Skeelie enjoyed a position of great importance in Bargheria due to the presence of a labyrinth: one of a handful of naturally-occurring dungeons that spawned throughout the world.

The Skeelien Labyrinth contributed to the growth of the city’s Adventurer's guild and ensured a steady influx of tourists and foreign rankers. The attractive taxation rate was the governor’s attempt to capitalize on this, a feature Isaac itched to discuss at length.

I let him ramble for long minutes, storing useful information for later.

“Can you guess,” Isaac said, keeping one arm on the donkey’s flank, “the biggest obstacle to growth in Skeelie?”

I shook my head, knowing that he would supply the answer.

“Dreadwood”—he spat on the path—“It blocks off the northern part of the continent and halts all attempts at expansion. Sure, the monsters in it are low-leveled enough, but as long as the enchantment remains, Dreadwood would continue to resist deforestation.”

“You’re talking to an elf, Isaac,” Ben warned from the front of the line. “You shouldn’t speak so casually about destroying his home.”

“Bah!” Isaac waved his hand. “The dulië would benefit from urbanization and the free flow of trade as much as we will. Just look at all the opportunities around here waiting to be exploited . . . the moment someone finds a way around the enchantment.”

“You forget the edict,” Nicola said, choosing, for some reason, to walk with one eye closed.

“Yeah, that,” Isaac conceded. “Dreadwood is the wild god’s domain. No one would act against the forest as long as that old beast persists. But, he won’t go unchallenged for long! That, I can promise you.”

Nicola perked up. “Trouble.”

Ben halted our train and drew his greatsword. “Where?”

“Sixty paces and gaining,” Nicola said. She closed both eyes this time, focused on a scene only she could see.

I didn’t bother looking at [Map]. It would show nothing of use anyway. At least, nothing by the way of enemies. Nicola probably had a spell active, and if her companion’s behavior was any indication, said spell was pretty reliable.

Ben shoved a dithering Isaac into the middle of our formation and glanced frantically at Nicola. “How many?”

“I can't tell,” Nicola hissed, summoning her staff. “Four, maybe five. Definitely humanoid and moving quickly.”

“Can we take them?”

“We don’t have a choice.”

We veered off the dirt path into the cover of trees and adopted defensive positions. Ben stood at the vanguard, sword held at the ready.

A party of elves—judging by their cloaks—surged through the bushes. They looked nothing like Nana’s people, what with their copper skin and light-colored hair. However, their Cloaks of Viridian Gleam were unmistakable in daylight.

There was only one other race they could be: Wood Elves, or the Hindulië in the ancient tongue.

The Wood Elves all stood over six feet tall, a trait they shared with their black-skinned cousins. However, their features were nowhere near as nice to look at.

While the Dark Elves had cut the picture of an exotic people—wild and alluring at the same time—the Wood Elves sported such acute features that they ended up being somewhat off-putting to look at.

Their copper skin glistened in the sunlight, crisscrossed with green veins. Slanted eyes sat high in their face. Their jawlines tapered to narrow chins shaped like perfect Vs, so much so that they could have passed for living dolls.

Ben growled beneath his breath, having just caught proper sight of them. “Wood Elves.”

The newcomers arrived in a party of six and halted their sprint about thirty meters away. They ignored our defensive stances and strode forward as if enjoying the breeze.

“Hail, friends,” the elf-woman in the lead said, raising a hand in greeting. Her sharp cheekbones rose like twin ridges on her face, framing an intense stare. Her cropped red hair worsened their severity. “May I request you to follow us back to our village?”

Isaac frowned. “May I request to decline?”

The Wood Elf sighed. She jerked her head at her party who fanned out into the bushes. “That was a mere formality, you beef-witted lug. I don't care if you refuse to follow us of your own volition. Coercion was always on the cards.” A dagger snapped into her hand with a deft movement of her wrist.

“I do not take kindly to threats,” Ben said, brandishing his sword.

I looked at him like he had fractured his skull. What do you mean by that, you dolt? We should take this kindly. Very kindly, in fact. We were the ones outnumbered here.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” the Elf-woman said, sporting a grin that made her look insane. “This makes it worthwhile for everyone involved. Now, come. Who wishes to bleed first?”