I waited for Paz at The Naked Bard.

He strolled in sometime around noon, carrying his heavy spear on his shoulder. A thick sheen of sweat covered his naked torso, gleaming with sunlight.

Skeelie was liberal about decency from what I’d seen. It wasn’t uncommon for the city folk to wander around in various shades of undress, but have some shame, man. Just because he looked better than everyone else didn’t mean he had to rub it in their faces.

Paz settled in at the opposite end of my table.

“You look like shit,” we said simultaneously, then broke out into laughter.

Despite the early hour, the tavern was half full. Adventurers, it seemed, did little other than drink, brawl and die.

The fresh lavender sprinkled on the floorboards of the tavern helped mask the musty smells of beer and unwashed bodies. Wood smoke joined the brew, pouring from a kitchen behind the bar. For a short moment, my stomach ached with longing for homemade jollof rice, but I shoved it down and ordered a round of beer.

A chubby girl, barely into adulthood, approached our table with something akin to reverence. It was the same table Paz had slumped over during my first encounter with Byron. A table that had now become synonymous with our company.

“What were you doing?” I asked after we had emptied two rounds of beer.

“Training,” Paz said and nudged the spear beside him.

“Training?”

“That would be the logical conclusion following the events of last night.”

Oh. We had both been beaten blue-black by the Samurai. And, Paz didn’t take kindly to being beaten by anyone, except on his terms.

“There was nothing we could do,” I said. “We did well to escape despite the circumstances. Levels are all that matter in Vizhima.” I raised my drink. “Blood and numbers?”

“Blood and numbers.” Paz accepted the toast. “I still don’t like it, Damien. I hate being this . . . frail. We need to find new ways to increase our levels. Our current methods are too slow.”

“Well, I have good news for you, friend. I have received a quest . . .”

Paz listened in silence to the details of the mission. I’d never told him about Kajal, so he asked questions regarding her identity. He was visibly surprised to learn that she had been the first one to find the Traveler’s Room, but I left out the part about [Migrant Soul]s.

Paz hummed. “Dwarves, elves, humans, and goblins. Sounds like the start of a great adventure: A fitting quest for The Black Leaf Company to tackle.”

“You love this adventuring thing, huh?”

“How are you holding up?” Paz asked. “You must be worried about the family you left behind.”

I paused mid-drink, shocked at the kindness in his tone. “Uh, I feel more than a little uneasy. I can’t wait to confirm their safety.”

“We’ll help them if they need it. But, I’m sure they are fine.”

Yeah . . . “Have you ever faced a goblin horde, Paz? What should we expect?”

Paz chuckled in his throat. “I have never seen one, Damien. The last goblin horde crossed Dreadwood about fifty years ago. They were ultimately stopped before they could reach the rest of Vizhima by a coalition of men and dwarves.” He furrowed his brows. “Skeelie will be hit the hardest though, due to its position. It takes a while for the powers that be to turn their eyes toward this region.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must have noticed now that the monsters that spawn nearby are of regular or iron rank—”

“Except the wild god’s pets.”

“Aye.” Paz nodded. “Except that. Rankers who reach silver rank can either remain in Bargheria and stay at their current levels or migrate to other regions. The larger world is more punishing and inhospitable than the north but also more rewarding.”

“You’re saying that we currently occupy the weakest part of the world?”

“One of the weakest, yes. Bargheria tends to attract a sizeable number of regulars due to its lack of natural challenges. Agriculture, in particular, is one of the region’s strengths.

“But, the world is dominated by classers, Damien. And, the more of them a nation possesses, the greater its progress in commerce, industry, and arts. Steep challenges attract powerful specialists and rankers who in turn accelerate regional development.”

“And, the most developed nations,” I finished, “number among the strongest—a trait that grants them the right to oppress the weak.” I leaned back in my chair. Pity I didn’t own a map; it would have been great to visualize. “Which nations are considered world powers, then?”

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

“Norduliënor,” Paz said without missing a beat. “But, the true answer is any nation that boasts of a Herald as its patron. This includes the Beastmen Enclave, Kholindon, Dweorgaheim, the Hellfire Kingdom, and the Human Dragon Ascendancy.”

“H-hellfire? Human Dragon? What the heck is wrong with you people?”

Paz kept talking. “Weaker nations ally themselves with the world powers for protection. Bargheria, for example, is a vassal state of Kholindon. This is important to remember, Damien, because while the Heralds aren’t seen in everyday life, their influence consumes the world.”

There it was—that word again: Herald. The absolute pinnacle of power in Vizhima. One such Herald occupied nearby Dreadwood. Oh, wait . . .

“I take it Dreadwood doesn’t count as strong?”

Paz shook his head. “The Wild God is notorious for avoiding politics, but he does serve as an effective deterrent within his domain.”

“What’s the point of being a deterrent if he won’t even stop the goblin invasion?”

Paz looked as perplexed as I felt. “Hell if I know. My best guess is that he is truly as mad as they say.”

We lapsed into a short bout of silence, during which I mulled over everything Paz had said. If the strongest nations boasted of the support of the Heralds, then it was also safe to assume they controlled the most potent World Shrines.

Skeelie harbored a World Shrine here in the city, but it was too weak to satisfy a good portion of the city’s prospective classers. An inhabitant of Skeelie needed to be either highborn, influential, or sworn in servitude to the crown to gain the privilege of specialization. Daring souls who fell into none of those categories had to make the trip to Avillac instead—the capital of Bargheria. A venture that cost them even more in time and coin.

Seeing as Bargheria owed allegiance to another kingdom, I couldn’t imagine them being in complete control over their own World Shrines. It sounded like a shitty situation for a weak nation to be in, but poor countries on Earth also suffered a myriad of shitty situations, none too different.

Ultimately, the world powers were the places I needed to visit if I hoped to recruit powerful rankers for my company. My jaunt in the Labyrinth might have saved me some time on the clock, but the countdown to the Apocalypse hadn’t slowed since my return.

I sipped some beer. Eh. The Apocalypse could wait. What was the point of stopping it if I couldn’t even save the Dark Elves in Dreadwood?

Paz watched me intently.

“What?” I asked.

“It just struck me,” he said, “but we haven’t decided what to do about the Samurai.”

“What’s there to decide? We’re leaving Skeelie tomorrow.”

Paz growled. “There’s no guarantee he won’t return for a second go.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there—”

“Damien . . .”

Ah. There it was. The slight change in tone. Paz tended to do that when he had something important to say.

“One of my prerequisites for accepting your leadership,” he said, “was your determination to change the world.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t—”

“You showed some of that determination when you stood up against Byron and entered the Labyrinth for Nicola’s sake. Has that fire diminished?”

I considered my answer. Paz sometimes made it easy to forget that his friendship had not been extended cheaply. We had skirted around the topic ever since the company’s formation, but Paz had made it clear that he desired power and great deeds above all else . . . for reasons best known to him.

I’d live the rest of my days peacefully if I had the chance. But, the [Sysyem] had abducted that chance and beat it over the head with a length of iron. Many of the rankers who would join me in the future had expectations of their own. And, they’d only meet mine if I met theirs in turn.

In that sense, Paz served as a reminder. No one would work with me if I kept them dissatisfied.

“What do we do about the Samurai then?” I asked, knowing I would regret the answer.

Paz hummed in approval. “We teach him to never mess with us again.”

“The last time we fought, he was the one who taught us a lesson.”

“And, we’d forever live with that shame if we let it slide, Damien! Winning the fear of our enemies is important. And, fear is a currency you know something about.”

True. But, his suggestion was just plain terrible. “Desiring victory is one thing, Paz. But, desire alone won’t bridge the gap in power between that killer and us. How do you intend to cross it?”

“Well . . . I figured I’d leave the planning to you.”

I offered him a deadpan stare.

“What?”

“I’m not going into a fight with nil odds of victory, Paz. If you can’t at least come up with a way to avoid defeat, then all that talk of standing above our enemies can rot in hell.”

“Alright. Alright. I was just making a joke. Remember the ability I unlocked for reaching silver rank?”

That got me to sit up. “The one you refuse to tell me about? Hell, you still haven’t told me what technique you unlocked at level twenty.”

“I’m keeping that one a secret. Especially from you.”

“Why?”

Paz made a sarcastic gesture with his hands.

“My bad,” I said. “We agreed to withhold sensitive details until we were ready to speak.”

“Yes. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Damien. I believe in your good judgment as I do in mine. However, should anything you withhold put my life in danger, I need trump cards of my own. Rest assured, this is not a decision that affects our party.”

“Fair enough. Tell me about your most recent upgrade, then.”

“I unlocked a technique that could give us a fighting chance. It’s called [Retaliate].”

That sounded ominous. “What does it do?”

“It accumulates all damage taken while it is active, and as long as I don’t die, I can return it for twice the power.”

“That sounds like something I’d expect from a Pokémon.”

“What . . .?”

“That sounds like a great technique, Paz,” I corrected. “If triggered at the right moment, you can take the Samurai by surprise. The problem comes with keeping you alive . . .”

Paz grinned.

“Don’t tell me . . .” I said. “This new technique works with [Sanguine Return]?”

“Aye. [Sanguine Return] cleanses all buffs after activation. But, [Retaliate] isn’t a buff. I also exist in a non-physical state between resurrections. So, am I truly dead?”

My brain ran amok with the implications. “Too risky. Death is death, especially considering your killer gains XP whether you resurrect or not. You’re better served firing [Retaliate] before you kick the bucket.”

Paz touched his spear. “What do you think I have been doing all morning, Damien?”

“You’ve tested the theory?”

Paz smirked. “Now, who’s aboard the plan?”