Nicola joined us at the city gates at dawn.

I stifled a yawn as we watched the sunrise—all five of us, including her kid brothers: Glenn and Bart.

The Ainsworth boys looked healthier than the last time I’d seen them, though most of their social awkwardness remained. They harried Paz as we waited for Kajal to finish inspecting the wagons delivered by the merchants.

“Who’s that?” Bart, the younger sibling, asked as Kajal threw us a curious glance.

“Damien’s woman,” Paz said. “Though I don’t particularly like her.” He chuckled as he noticed my glare.

When did I say anything like that?!

Bart glanced at his sister.

“She’s a looker, isn’t she?” Nicola said with a glib look. “Are you sure you can trust her?”

“I’d like to think so,” I said. “She helped me in the Labyrinth. But, one can never be too sure.”

“Well, I don’t,” Paz said and frowned at Kajal’s back. “There’s something off about her . . . about people who command silent power.”

That might be because she wasn’t native to Vizhima. Just like me. However, Paz had not shown any hostility during our first meeting.

“Will you two be fine without my help?” Nicola asked. “I noticed your new party doesn’t have a caster.”

“That’s the umpteenth time you’re asking,” I said and patted her shoulder. “We’ll be fine; it’s just some goblins. I might not look like it, but I’m a pretty experienced goblin hunter. I’m more worried about you.”

“Why?”

I looked around to ensure that no one was eavesdropping and gave her a pointed look. “The Samurai’s not dead. I’m not comfortable leaving you alone while he lingers somewhere in the city.”

“I can protect myself”—her eyes strayed to her brothers—“though I understand your point. I'll speak to the Matron about granting us room at her estate, just in case.”

The estate of the leader of the carnal cult was probably not the best place for minors to stay in, but I trusted Nicola’s judgment.

She wrapped me in a warm hug. “Do what you need to do and come back safely, alright? You too, Paz.” She glared at the redhead. “On second thought, I don’t care if you return or not.”

“Ouch,” Paz said and touched his chest.

“Don’t skip your meals,” Nicola said. “I know you both love meat, but if you don’t eat your vegetables, all the stats in the world won’t save you from malnourishment.”

“I eat my veggies,” I said with an affronted look. Though, I’d admittedly purchased enough chicken roast to last for six months.

It was a pity that inventories didn’t exist on Earth. The sheer ability to preserve food indefinitely without spoilage would end world hunger.

Kajal waved me over.

“Well, I guess that’s our cue.” I shared another hug with Nicola, flicked both her brothers on the foreheads—much to their indignation—and jogged up to the alluring woman.

“You have good companions,” Kajal said, as I fell in step beside her. “How did you find them so quickly?”

By quickly, she meant in the time since I’d reincarnated on Vizhima, right? “I ask myself that every day.”

Kajal’s brown eyes crinkled in a smile. She looked breathtaking in the light of dawn with lean muscles rippling beneath her orange-colored robes. Her midnight hair fell in waves behind her back, tied into a single luscious braid.

“The Mage isn’t coming along?” she asked. “Nicola, was it?”

“No. But, Paz is. He’s a Skirmisher, probably the best fighter in the entire city.”

Kajal cocked her head. “Oh?”

That sounded like a challenge, considering that she was also a fighter. And, why were her mannerisms so damn graceful?

“We won’t run into any problems, would we?” I asked. “Without a caster in our ranks.”

“I’d like to think so, but Medekeine has a summon that could cover us in that regard. The real dilemma involves the caravan. We can’t afford to tug deadweight after us on a mission like this.”

We approached the rest of the team, who had commandeered a spot beside the city gate to finish their preparations. Kajal’s companion—a short, bald, burly man in heavy armor—frowned as he saw me. He wore the same scowl I remembered as if the entire world disgusted him.

“Elf,” he said.

I grinned in response. “Short human whose name I remember but definitely won’t speak.”

Logain glowered. “I see your recent triumph did nothing for your manners.” He glanced at Kajal. “This party of yours is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Quiet,” she warned.

The other short person in our party: the dwarf, Medekeine, didn’t bother acknowledging my presence. He smoothened his leather armor and focused instead on our leader. “That took you long enough. I thought the merchants would never stop yapping. Well, then. Chop chop. Where’s that guildmaster of yours to sign off our journey?”

“Ezin has no further instructions for us,” Kajal said. “He won’t be stopping by.”

“Is this all there is to our party, then?” Logain asked. “Just the four of us?”

“Five,” Paz said and vaulted over a wagon. He raised the tarp on the vehicle to peek into its interior.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Logain scowled. “A muscle head? Really? Is this the best we could do?”

“A muscle head?” Paz repeated. “Someone, fetch this bastard a mirror.” He dropped the tarp and turned an imposing glare on Kajal.

Alarm bells rang in my head. You better not try anything untoward, mister . . .

Kajal flashed him a winning smile. “Paz? Damien tells me you’re the best fighter in the city.”

“I’m not here to prove it.” Paz jerked his thumb at the line of wagons. “You’re the party leader here, right? What’s the plan concerning those? The goblins would hear us approach from a distance if we traveled with those vehicles.”

“We’ll break them up,” Kajal said. “Each person would carry what they can in their inventory. The heaviest items should be moved to a single wagon. We’ll travel with that.”

“That’s still not ideal. A workhorse won’t make our journey easier.”

“We don’t need a horse.”

She nodded at Medekeine who retrieved a sturdy, metal cage from his inventory.

A black snake crawled out of it and onto the ground the moment it opened. Smoke rose from its skin, filling the gap between our group.

Wait a minute . . .

A young girl appeared in place of the snake, eyes wide with curiosity. Wild, black hair fanned out behind her, dotted with weeds and brambles. A single rag covered her from neck to shin, which might have once been white but now sported a dirty brown color. A collar gleamed around her neck . . .

A collar . . .

“What the fuck is this?!” I said.

“Peace, Damien,” Kajal answered. “It’s not what it looks like.”

The young girl paled at my voice. She cowered and raised her arms above her head. “I’m sorry, master. Don’t hit me! Please!”

“What part of this is not what it looks like?!” I said.

“Are you stupid or something?” Logain asked. “Can’t you see that’s a monster?”

I glanced again at the girl. [Identify].

Bound Div LVL 44.

“B-but . . .” I said, “she’s just a little girl.”

“And, you’re a fool,” Medekeine said. “This little girl could slit your throat if you so much as relaxed your guard.” He glared at her. “Get up, fiend!”

“No, don’t hurt me!” she said and glanced at me with pleading eyes. “Master elf, please help!”

“Drop the act!” Medekeine roared.

Dark markings appeared on the girl’s tanned skin. She fell to the ground, writhing in pain. “Master elf! Help!”

Kajal placed an arm on my shoulder. “I know such scenes are difficult for people like us to witness. But, don’t be fooled by her appearance, Damien. Divs are some of the deadliest creatures in Vizhima. You don’t want to help her.”

Medekeine rattled the empty cage. “If you don’t get up now, you blasted brat, I swear I’ll invoke a curse!”

The little girl stopped writhing. She sat quietly for a small moment, then struggled to her feet. “No, don’t do that. I will be a good slave, sir. I promise!”

“Divs, huh?” Paz said, curling his lip. “A natural one is rare enough, but a bound one is worth the cost of a small army. How did you manage to get your hands on something this valuable?”

“Who cares?” Medekeine said. He pointed at the slave. “You will assist Lady Kajal in organizing the wagons. And, if you make trouble for her or try anything untoward, I promise it will be your last!”

The girl bowed at the command. Her brown eyes watched me from beneath her bangs: dull and anguished.

A lump formed in my throat.

An hour after dawn, a small party departed with no fanfare through Skeelie’s massive gates.

They consisted of six people and a heavy wagon built for rough terrain. The wagon contained large barrels of oil that inventories couldn’t accommodate: a resource that the Wood Elves needed in their fight against the goblins.

The Bound Div pulled the wagon, somehow managing the feat despite her small stature. Kajal had explained the nature of obedience seals: the dark markings that flared up on the Div’s body on occasion. They’d been placed to prevent her from harming her master or going against his instructions.

Divs were apparently notorious for finding loopholes in agreements. Medekeine had installed a slave collar as a failsafe should the obedience seals fail. He had warned us to treat her like we would an enemy, but I couldn’t stand the sound of her labored breaths as she struggled with the wagon.

I glanced behind me to check if she needed some help—

Kajal sighed. “She can manage it just fine, Damien. Divs are notoriously powerful beings.”

“You say that, but she is just a kid.”

“That’s not her real appearance, man,” Logain said. “Honestly, how did you survive this long with such a weak heart?”

“Watch it,” Paz warned.

Medekeine for his part sat atop the wagon. He studied a crude map in his hands and dropped it with a sigh. “The paths have probably changed since my people last visited Dreadwood. Pity. I would rather not depend on an elf.”

“We can rely on Damien,” Kajal said. “But, I am also familiar with the route . . .”

Was that because of [Map]?

“. . . We’ll head first for the Wood King’s court. We can learn more about the goblin horde there.” She spared me a small smile. “Sorry, Damien. But, your family would have to wait.”

I stared at the distant forest, which stood only about three hours away from the city. The other major paths leading away from Skeelie branched off in different directions. Those paths shared all of the traffic, which caused us to draw looks as we advanced toward the woods.

A lot of those looks had to do with the fact that a child served as our workhorse. Medekeine sitting atop the wagon didn’t help matters.

“I’m fine with the plan,” I told Kajal. “Any help we give the Wood Elves would help all of Dreadwood. In the meantime, shouldn’t we get acquainted with our capabilities?”

Kajal winked. “You should be able to tell what we are capable of to a degree. Anyway, I’ll go first. I’m a level 30 Monk, attuned to Empathy. I use abilities like [Telekinesis] and debuffs. My fighting style is [Martial Arts], and I am probably the best fighter you know of in the city.” The last tongue-in-cheek part was directed at Paz.

Paz looked excited. “I have trained with Monks. Isn’t [Martial Arts] considered inferior to other fighting styles like [Pugilist] and [Weapon Arts]?”

“Oh my. Where did you hear that from?”

“You really know nothing, oaf,” Logain said as if Kajal’s achievements were a source of pride for him. “No one can beat the lady in hand to hand!”

I confirmed Kajal’s words with [Identify]. It truly was as she said: Monk Level 30.

Paz gritted his teeth. “Level 27 Skirmisher here. Attuned to Retribution. All Skirmishers get [Polearm Mastery] as a fighting style. You probably want me on the frontline no matter the enemy.”

“A dog of vengeance, huh?” Medekeine said. “That’s a fearsome affinity you’ve got there. Why waste it by being a Skirmisher?”

“Polearms are just better. You?”

Medekeine raised his hand. It turned into a scaled claw. “Shifter. Level 38. Confusion. Don’t expect much by way of abilities from me. But, I have the [Brawler] fighting style, and the trifecta of [Alter Self], [Bestial Shape], and [Shapeshift].” He returned to his map. “Do give me a wild berth in battle. I’d hate to kill any of you unintentionally.”

“You can try,” Logain said. “I’m a level 27 Guardian, [Defensive Fighting], attuned to Compassion. Or Mercy, as they call it in some places. I double as a healer and buffer. None of my allies die under my watch.” He nodded at me. “Your turn, elf.”

“He has a name,” Kajal said.

“Assassin,” I said simply. “Level 28. [Knife-fighting]. I move unseen and strike from the shadows . . . because I am attuned to Fear.”

Logain and Medekeine went pallid.

In the silence that followed, the little div laughed. “You’re all going to die.”