image [https://i.imgur.com/QDdJt43.jpg]

Charitybelle became the best part of attending classes at the academy. She and I had grown closer and harbored no doubts about our feelings. Becoming a couple gave me another sense of purpose. But our romance had its bumps. My reading skills made research frustrating for her, and Applied Knowledge compounded the issue. It wasn’t fair that I held so many academic advantages.

After the arena, the gang followed my developing combat skills. That I had pushed every combat skill into the low teens hadn’t gone unnoticed. As the group leader, it fell on Fabulosa’s shoulders to solicit me into their expeditions, not as a hanger-on but as a resource. When she asked me to join, I agreed to do so after ranking up my trade skills.

They also wanted Charitybelle since she became part of the family, but my overall gains in combat made me a core combat asset. Were they worried I’d field better offers? I made promises not to leave my friends in the dust.

The military academy’s skill limit capped out at rank 15, giving me more reason to graduate. Things weren’t as smooth in my crafting courses. The provincial trade skill instructors refused to help apprentices who wouldn’t join their guilds. They taught me the basics but gave me the cold shoulder long before I reached rank 15.

I blamed this predicament on the size of Belden. If I had started in Grayton or Arlington, I would have had more resources, larger schools, crafting options, and more marketplaces. But Belden had only one tanner. Their refusal to teach me how to make armor entirely stifled me.

The contest’s asymmetrical starting conditions frustrated me. After only a few semesters, I began thinking I had overstayed my welcome at the university.

My highest trade skill became alchemy. At rank 9, I learned to identify, harvest, and combine basic ingredients into minor healing and mana potions. It fulfilled a pragmatic, pedestrian need for adventurers—all combatants used potions. It wasn’t as sexy as blacksmithing. None of its recipes were proprietary, and I had no access to exotic elixirs. Fabulosa gave me the group’s collected resources, and I supplied them with helpful concoctions. I kept stacks of stat improvement potions on hand, but the adventures preferred garden-variety health and mana boosts. No one wanted to lock themselves into a 10-minute cooldown to boost their core stats.

After studying leatherworking and tailoring, I learned neither activity appealed to me. Tailors and tanners kept their secrets. They refused to give me patterns or recipes to make clothes or armor. Very few trade materials could be begged, borrowed, or stolen, but I pursued the skills as far as the instructors would allow.

Charitybelle concentrated on engineering, a subject for which she possessed a natural aptitude. I wasn’t fond of math or considered myself a gearhead. Leaving it as her area of expertise freed me up to pursue the softer sciences, like world history and geography. We even took a cooking course to learn the basics of food safety.

We combed the library for clues about Miros. I discovered a poem that mentioned a retired warrior named Sune Njal. This warrior’s troops called him Pentarch, meaning leader of 500. The title of affection referenced his early career as a drill commander.

Goblins fought fiercely on their home ground because they tunneled behind enemy lines. The Pentarch had conquered several mountains in goblin territory, a feat no one had accomplished before or since his command.

Sune Njal cut a swath southward from Fort Tilbury into the Bluepeaks, ending goblin raids by putting the enemy on defense. He became a hero from Grayton to Basilborough, but his strength wasn’t strategic. He excelled in micromanagement and training subordinates. The stories made me keen to find him.

Sune Njal’s career ended after disagreements with the Grayton aristocracy during his final campaign. He retired in isolation on one of his conquered mountains. His last known home rested atop a summit called Iremont.

The flowery books glutting the Belden library proved helpful for a second time. I harbored visions of a fastidious grandfather figure with wispy facial hair like a legendary kung fu master. Several illustrations of Iremont helped me identify the place, as the mountain bore a distinctive flat top and overlooked a river.

Adventuring, building a base, and hunting monsters sounded fun, but I still needed to win this game. Njal’s tutelage could expedite my skill ranks in combat. I didn’t feel wrong or guilty about withholding my plan from the others, as I’m sure they kept things from me. Completing this quest didn’t clash with Charitybelle’s hunting lodge plan.

The gang could carry on without me if I took a proverbial walkabout. The inimitable Pentarch wouldn’t want a field trip full of students on his doorstep—certainly not RIP or Fabulosa sassing him or goofing off whenever they pleased.

What tests would he have? To prepare, I memorized everything the library had about him. When I’d covered enough material, a quest window appeared.

New Quest

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Seeking Enlightenment

Description

The Pentarch became famous for defeating numerous opponents by surrounding himself with well-trained elite troops.

Objective

Learn Sune Njal’s lost wisdom of soldiery. He is on Iremont, a flat-topped mountain peak in the southernmost mountain in the Bluepeaks.

Reward

100 experience

10 silver pieces

I accepted the proposition and chuckled to myself as I read the description. It provided the first part of a quest chain, so I warmed up to another long-term goal. The generous experience and ten silver pieces didn’t escape my attention either.

Soon, Charitybelle brought everyone on board to explore the inner continent. The prospect of our little family fueled my wanderlust. I crafted and purchased things we needed. One weekend, I bought a few saw blades, blankets, and cooking supplies. I cobbled together a collection of tools. Anvils and bellows didn’t fit into our inventory, so we planned to return for the more massive blacksmithing objects. Gathering supplies became our project between the semesters.

Our second winter in Miros passed as pleasant as the first. The smell of dead leaves marked the changing seasons. It never snowed or got cold enough to see our breath, but flowers stopped blooming, and the skies dimmed with cloud cover. Like Earth, Belden celebrated year-end holidays, and classes took a two-month break while the student body returned to their families.

By year’s end, I had all my combat skills ranked past 12, capping several at 15. Even at triple speed, I could feel my progress slowing down. After my lessons in the arena, the school lost its luster, and I lost my focus. Adventuring with the gang, seeking a legendary warrior, and building a cozy little hunting lodge seemed like a logical next step in my progression. And exploring the continent sounded like a lot of fun.

During the winter break between semesters, the reality of the contest crashed into our ambitions.

It happened as Charitybelle and I trained alone in the drill yard. While we put away equipment for the day, Fabulosa limped over to us. Her face flushed from exertion and crying, and her padded armor had splatters of dried mud. “Apache!”

I caught her after she staggered into my arms. I didn’t recognize this fragile person clutching onto me.

Charitybelle sprinted from across the drilling yard to see what had happened.

“They’re gone. All of them!”

I looked to Charitybelle, whose face tightened into a mask of concern.

Fabulosa leaned against a nearby wall. “Three players bushwhacked us in the wilderness.”

I gave Fabulosa water from my waterskin.

After she drank the entire thing, she explained. “They chased me. I think they’re coming here.”

Charitybelle covered her mouth with both hands.

My attempts to simplify our issue sounded a little self-centered. “Okay. Let’s think about this. They can’t hurt us on campus, but you need to hide somewhere.”

Charitybelle turned to me, pointing to Fabulosa’s nameplate. “She’s got two Exhausted debuffs already. She can’t go anywhere.”

“I needed to warn you. I ran all day here. One has a hound they’re using for tracking. At least two are rogues or assassins—and they were level 16. My event log shows abilities using burst damage from Stealth.”

Charitybelle’s voice remained even, speaking without a tinge of alarm. “You mentioned the others were gone.”

Fabulosa nodded, looking at the ground.

“Do you mean they left or….” The contest interface showed 53 players—the contestant number had dropped by three. RIP, ArtGirl, and PinkFox had been knocked out of the battle royale.

Fabulosa wiped tears again, avoiding our eyes while answering Charitybelle’s question. “They ganked Arty first. It happened so fast—in seconds. Then Pinky. And they killed RIP last, and my health was already low, so RIP told me to run. The gankers tried to get me to fight, but they all had full health bars.”

I tightened my jaw. “Are you sure they’re coming here?”

Fabulosa spoke in small bursts. She hung her head as she gathered breath. “I don’t know if they’re coming here for sure. I knew the fastest way home. If they chased me, they might be an hour or more behind. It happened about three or four hours ago when they attacked. I’ve been running enough to get stat debuffs from Exhaustion. I lit out of there, but their dog chased me for at least ten miles. They teased me about running, promising to kill everyone who helped me. They’re horrible.”

Charitybelle pointed to Fabulosa’s nameplate. “Do a Rest and Mend while you’re here.”

Fabulosa nodded and collapsed to the ground, but her Exhausted debuffs remained. She needed an eight-hour rest to get rid of them.

Charitybelle looked at me for an answer, but I didn’t have any.

We needed to get Fabulosa to safety, but players would check out the inns and taverns first. Belden only had a few, so it would be a short while before they learned about the university—a natural newbie zone. We couldn’t protect her here. Most of the university’s buildings had large windows—optimized for reading but indefensible. Our Lady of Balance seemed the safest structure. The temple’s masonry made it fireproof.

None of us had officially joined Belden’s population. We feared becoming citizens might limit us somehow. Town guards wouldn’t interfere with a conflict between outsiders. The gamer inside me who looked for exploits everywhere reasoned the game probably didn’t work that way. It would be too easy for players to hide from one another otherwise.

Fabulosa wasn’t in any shape to leave the city. Mother Marteen might understand our predicament. She didn’t strike me as the type of person to give us up if someone pressed her for our whereabouts. But would it come to that? Was I the type of player to force her into that situation?

Charitybelle must have been reading my mind. “After she rests, we’ll take her to Mother Marteen’s.”

Adding nothing, I nodded.

Rest and Mend did its healing wonders, but Fabulosa still carried minor stat penalties from Exhaustion. Although she looked glum and distant, we escorted her to the temple. We wore armor, but I grabbed a spear and a short sword from the practice yard. Charitybelle carried two short swords in her scabbards.

I absorbed the news as we crossed the city to Our Lady of Balance. RIP no longer played the game. I would never follow PinkFox’s tuft of hair through the forest again. ArtGirl’s graceful blades no longer swooshed through the air.

When my eyes moistened, I dismissed the self-indulgent thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for mourning.