Chapter 172: The Argument
The infectious sound of a bored, tired yawn spread from person to person like an instantaneous plague. It began with Miss Britethorn and continued on to her husband. Reni Sarwin yawned right after, followed by a young adventurer girl named Ishina. Before long, Zach too was opening his mouth wide and adding one of his own. It reminded him of how long it’d been since he’d last slept—and how badly he wanted to lie down and close his eyes. Especially since they were basically doing nothing right now but standing around and waiting.
The hell are we doing out here? he wondered, disgruntled and exhausted.
Glancing at the time on his phone, Zach found it hard to believe he’d wasted four hours idly baking in the ruthless summer heat while Jimmy, Donovan, Zephyr, Fiona, Kal, and Mr. Oren repeated the same arguments over and over to the point that Zach could practically recite each of them from memory. It made Zach wonder why they couldn’t have resolved their disagreements back at the diner where at least it was air conditioned and cool. Why did they have to come out here just to subject him and all the other adventurers—of which there were now more than a hundred—to this inferno-like temperature while they figured this shit out? Seriously, this was ridiculous.
Why can’t we just pick this back up tomorrow?
Zach was getting sick of hearing the six of them go at it, and to be honest, if they didn’t come to a consensus soon, he was considering speaking up and demanding they leave. In fact, that was what Donovan, Zephyr, and Kalana wanted to do. Despite his desire to support Jimmy, Zach found himself siding with those three, though he didn’t dare say it out loud. It was just that he was worn-out and fatigued, and this boss clearly wasn’t an imminent threat in the way the dragon had been. There was no reason they had to take it down today. Well, at least in his opinion. This was not, however, a view that was shared by Mr. Oren, Jimmy, and Fiona Darkmae; to the contrary, all three seemed united in opposition to that idea.
“You’re telling me we can’t keep the situation here under control for one fuckin’ day?” asked Donovan, an exasperated growl following his words. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“That’s an incredibly shallow and inaccurate summation of what we’ve been saying,” Mr. Oren replied, his eyes locked with Donovan’s as though the two were engaging in some kind of heated staring contest. “You’re misrepresenting the views of Duchess Darkmae—and also my own.”
There seemed to be two “teams” at play here, with Donovan, Kalana, and Zephyr wanting to err on the side of caution and call it a day so that the Explorer’s Brigade could then spend the rest of the evening—and all night—conducting “field tests” thanks to the boss’s smallish de-aggro radius. For several hours now, the three of them had been arguing that taking their time and collecting more data on the boss was the best course of action, whereas Mr. Oren, Fiona, and Jimmy had been making the case that an immediate takedown was in the best interest of the people. However, unlike Donovan, Zephyr, and Kal, who all seemed to be arguing from the same underlying position, those three clearly had very different individual reasons for wanting to slay the boss here and now.
In the case of Jimmy, Zach detected a sense of urgency to prove himself and recover from whatever had happened to him the night prior, and for Mr. Oren and Fiona Darkmae, the two seemed to be arguing from a public safety standpoint. Where they differed, however, was that Mr. Oren was also trying to press the case that he needed to return to Shadowfall Coast and required this to be over with quickly, and with Fiona, the stunningly beautiful guild leader was attempting to make clear to the others how badly her region’s economy would be harmed if this was allowed to drag on for days, weeks, or months, as she’d been required to close off several main roads that ran through here; she seemed to be worried that, if the adventurers did not kill the boss by tonight, they would find some excuse or another to drag this on for much longer than just a day. And so, unable to come to an agreement, the debate continued.
This is such a waste of time, Zach thought, releasing another yawn.
Right now, they were all gathered just a block-and-a-half away from the T9 mare’s spawn point. At first, when Zach had arrived here with the others, he’d felt invigorated and even had a bit of adrenaline rushing through his veins. This was due to a combination of seeing the boss up close and personal but also witnessing the utter destruction that it had inflicted on this market square. Destroyed structures littered the entirety of it, and though there were still a few places of business that were mostly intact, nothing had truly escaped unscathed. Even the beauty parlor across the street from them had somehow had its windows shattered and a section of the roofing torn off. But considering the size of their foe, this did not surprise him one bit. If anything, Zach was amazed the market hadn’t been damaged even worse.
Thankfully, the boss was clearly nothing like Ziragoth. In contrast to the sentient fire wyvern, the giant horse appeared to have a very close aggro range and a slightly larger—but still pretty forgiving—de-aggro range. Because of how large and tall the tremendous, equine-like monster happened to be, their current distance from the boss made it all feel way, way closer—enough so that Zach couldn’t believe they could stand this near to it and not draw aggro. For this reason alone, their close proximity to the T9 boss had, at least during the first hour, roused Zach enough that it’d kept him feeling awake and alert.
But then the arguing started, more time came and went, and the newness of the situation wore off. With no actual lives facing any immediate danger, and with no real need to carelessly rush into battle, Zach had become very tired and also a bit grumpy as he realized he’d much prefer to go back to Elendroth with Kalana and pass out on a warm bed before returning tomorrow.
I’ve spent all night fighting in a war, then all day chasing after Jimmy. I need a break!
It wasn’t like he could do all that much before tomorrow anyway. His Unleashed Phase was still on cooldown and wouldn’t reset until sometime in the middle of the night, at which point his Phase Level would drop from 2 to 1, meaning he could safely use it and withstand the High exertion cost required of the ability. On the other hand, he supposed he could technically use it now if he activated Phase Reset and brought his Phase Level up to 3, which had the exact same Very High exertion cost as Phase Level 2. But with the weekly ability of his sword on cooldown, it would mean having to pay the entire Very High exertion cost instead of just half. And since half a Very High was still somehow enough to kill him—without the use of rejuvenation stones, of course—Zach wasn’t willing to gamble his life on the stones being enough to save him if he attempted to pay off the entire thing at once.
So, yeah, he wouldn’t be able to contribute a whole lot until tomorrow. His overall tiredness and lack of access to his best abilities meant he’d be fighting at a diminished capacity if he needed to partake in the raid today. But even still, if that was how things had to be, then you know what? Fine, whatever. He was ready if that turned out to be the case. But seriously, for the love of the Gods, could the six of them please just get on with it already? Enough was enough!
Zach groaned quietly so that no one could hear it as he watched the argument loop back around without settling any of the outstanding problems between the six of them. As fierce a debate as they were having regarding the “when” of it all, they were also bickering over the “how” and the “who” in addition. Specifically, they argued over the role that Jimmy was meant to play as well as the overall strategy for the raid, and it was those last two topics in particular that really got Jimmy all agitated and worked up.
“The fuck you mean co-leader?” Jimmy snapped as Donovan and Zephyr floated the suggestion of having all three of them lead together. “Did you not hear what Fiona said, Donovan? This is her region which means she’s the one who says who’s allowed to lead the raid here. And she threw this ball in my court, not yours.”
Zephyr released a chuckle. “You think that’s actually how this works, huh, Jimmy?”
“Well, yeah, obviously.”
He made a waving motion with his index finger. “Well then, you’re wrong. And I say that meaning no disrespect to the beautiful Duchess Darkmae, but she needs us a lot more than we need her, and if we aren’t able to conduct the raid how we think it should be done, we’ll just leave.”
At this, Fiona seemed to stiffen, her body becoming rigid and her grip on her combat staff tightening. “Wait a sec, at least let’s talk about this first. You guys can’t just leave.”
“Actually we can,” Donovan said before opening his mouth and spitting out a wad of saliva and mucus, which made a slight plop as it hit the ground. “We don’t let the political guilds tell us how we conduct our raids. That ain’t how things go.”
Fiona said nothing a short moment as if to take in Donovan’s words. Then she gave Jimmy a resigned, apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I guess I can’t force them to make you the leader after all, buddy. Not if it means they abandon my region.”
“He can be a leader,” Zephyr clarified. “But this is a T9, and we can’t leave it all to him. By all means, he’s still not ready for that.”
Jimmy looked perplexed. “Wait, but if ya’ll are saying you don’t gotta listen to her, and if you really think I’m not ready, then why are you willing to let me lead at all? Why even capitulate?”
Zephyr’s face visibly warmed. “Because we’re not capitulating. We both think you’re very talented, Jimmy. So even if you’re not seasoned enough just yet, we’re willing to overlook your lack of real-word experience because Donovan and I know you can bring a lot to the table.”
“If that’s the case, then let me bring it. Let me be the leader. Not the ‘co’ leader or whatever the hell. Let me do this my way.”
Donovan grunted. “Kid, have you learned a damn thing since last night?”
Zach wasn’t sure exactly what Donovan meant by the question, as he hadn’t been there and had only heard a brief but succinct version of events, one which left out a great many details. From what he had heard, it seemed Jimmy had gotten badly hurt during the raid, which had become derailed during the end and required Donovan and Zephyr to step in and take charge. But as far as what, specifically, had gone wrong—or if it was even Jimmy’s fault at all—Zach was completely in the dark. Thus, all he had to go on was the pained look that popped up in Jimmy’s expression as Jimmy seemingly considered what Donovan had asked him.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was actually so drunk I can’t even remember if I did or didn’t.”
Of all the possible ways in which Donovan could’ve reacted to that, he chose to bark out a laugh. “Been there, kiddo. But try to think. Surely, you must’ve learned something from what happened.”
Jimmy was silent for a bit as if reflecting on the events that had taken place during the time when Zach was busy fighting his way through Shadowfall Coast. Chewing on his lower lip, he mouthed a few syllables and then stared at the ground for another couple of seconds before finally lifting his head; now, there was a very thoughtful glint in his eyes.
“Actually, know what? I did learn a lot now that you mention it.”
Donovan grunted approvingly. “Go on.”
Zach didn’t know what Donovan expected to hear Jimmy say. He had no idea what lessons or takeaways the gruff leader of the GSG was hoping Jimmy would have gained. But whatever it was that Donovan was anticipating, Zach had to imagine it was not this. Because as Jimmy opened his mouth and replied to the question, he did not simply just answer it, but he really answered it. With his staff sheathed on his back, Jimmy lifted both hands and began to expressively gesture while speaking enthusiastically about so many different tactical points and observations that it made Zach’s head swim. Judging from the blank, incredulous stares being sent his way from Donovan, Zephyr, Kal, and even Fiona, he was willing to guess their heads were swimming as well. Right there beneath the scorching summer sun, in a market square devastated by a T9 raid boss, Jimmy launched into a lengthy, exhaustive speech that was about as interesting as an instruction manual.
“…which is why we should’ve had the healers use a staggered pattern to manipulate the hate tables. That way, even if Emala still ended up pulling Imp Lord Tzumazleth’s aggro, we would’ve been able to get it off her quickly enough, especially since radial gradient decay suggests that the…”
Jimmy spoke—and spoke a lot. He began rambling off terms, directions, and endless strategic musings that must’ve went on for at least ten minutes. It had to be at least that long. And all throughout, Donovan and Zephyr would hold up a finger every now and again as if to try to interject, but Jimmy, as though seemingly caught in his own world, didn’t even appear to acknowledge them. Yet, if he was indeed in his own world, he’d clearly invited a guest to visit him, as of all those present, only one man not only seemed to actually be following along, but he was also readily offering commentary as well as the occasional question.
“That’s not a bad idea, Jimmy,” Mr. Oren said. Back in his lab coat and wearing his cat-eye glasses, he almost seemed like his former self. He rubbed his chin and nodded. Like Zach, he also had not been present during the raid last night, yet from the way he absorbed every word Jimmy had said while also filling in the blanks, it was almost as though he’d been there in spirit. “But I think I see a way in which aggro distribution can be improved beyond what you’ve stated.”
“I’m listening.”
Mr. Oren smiled. “Let’s say you’re right about the existence of these ‘hate tables’—and I have to admit, that does make a great deal of sense now that I reflect upon my own observations—but in that case, your model for maximum aggro distribution seems to imply a secondary, as-yet unstated aggro decay that is amplified by distance.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve noticed so many things over the years that pointed me in this direction, but until now, I never imagined that each encounter with a mob held a literal table of raw numerical values assigned to each encounter participant. So then, factoring in aggro decay, if we use a model of circular, proximity-based threat modifiers, we can define a threat zone such that T=1+πd2B …”
Now, to be clear, Zach had studied hard enough in school that Kal used to call him a book nerd. And he did enjoy learning and whatnot. But the moment that Mr. Oren used the word “pi” in a discussion about fucking boss raiding, it had been then and there that Zach tuned everything else out. Because who had time for that? Why in the name of the Gods would somebody ever have to use the word “pi” when talking about fighting a boss? He didn’t know. And from the looks of things, nobody else did, either. But to Jimmy and Mr. Oren, it seemed like a vital piece of their weird conversation.
“Oh, shit,” Jimmy said, sounding excited. Then he quickly apologized to Mr. Oren for swearing. “I’ll watch my mouth, sorry, but seriously, dude—ugh, Lord Oren, sorry—you’re right. If we would’ve used a geometric distribution instead of a—”
“Enough!” Donovan snapped. “Shut the fuck up, both of you!” He drew his axe and pointed it at Jimmy. “When I asked if you learned something, I didn’t mean whatever the hell that was.”
“You didn’t?”
The question seemed to annoy Donovan. “You tryin’ to piss me off or something, kid? No I didn’t mean that. Gods in heaven, never make me sit through anything like that ever again.” His chest inflated as though taking in a deep breath, and then he made a slight whistling sound as he blew it out. “I was talking about raiding in general.”
“So was I,” Jimmy said. Donovan frowned at him, and Jimmy nervously took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about, man. I really was.”
Zephyr cleared his throat. “Jimmy, I think what Donovan is trying to get at is that your mistake wasn’t tactical or strategic. Don and I were watching you very closely, and if we’d have anticipated Emala pulling the boss’s aggro due to your stamina-regen buff, we would’ve said something to you about it. That’s not to say it’s not good of you to try to improve any way you can, but if you think the problem boils down to ‘aggro distribution,’ you’re missing the point.”
Jimmy shifted his weight somewhat as though becoming uncomfortable. “Then what is the point?”
Zephyr opened his mouth to reply, but Donovan beat him to it. Once again extending his axe towards Jimmy, he said, “That everything goes smooth until it don’t, and when shit did hit the fan, you didn’t know how to handle it.”
From the way Jimmy curled his lower lip, Zach had the impression that Donovan’s words must’ve bothered him or struck a nerve—at least in the immediate moment after hearing them. Very quickly, however, Jimmy’s defensive look vanished, and he instead flushed with what Zach took to be embarrassment.
“You’re right,” he whispered. Then, more loudly, he said, “But I can do better this time. That’s why I just want one more chance. I realize it’s only been a day or whatever, and yeah, I get that ain’t a lotta of time, but I worry if I don’t get another chance now, ya’ll might never give me one again.”
Zephyr and Donovan looked at one another as though confused, and then Zephyr said, “We are giving you another chance. I thought that was clear.”
“Nah, man, not like that.”
“Not like how?” Zephyr asked.
Jimmy made an annoyed grumble. “You wanna baby me and make me a ‘co’ leader or whatever. I meant another chance like, you know, what I had during the raid last night.”
Once again, Donovan and Zephyr exchanged a look, and then in unison, both laughed. “What exactly do you think we’re doing?” Zephyr asked. “This is the exact same thing.”
“It’s not, though,” Jimmy replied. “This time around, you two wanna—”
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“It’s exactly the same,” Zephyr interrupted. “Did you really think you were the only one in charge of the raid? Donovan and I would never let you risk your life and so many others all alone before you’re ready. We were with you the entire time, ready to step in if it all went to hell. And, as it happened, things did go to hell towards the end, and we stepped in. We want you to succeed, but you need to be guided. You can’t expect us to put a hundred lives in your hands and say nothing if we feel things are going the wrong way.”
Jimmy looked taken aback. Zach still had no idea what the hell they were talking about, but even without knowing, he could tell that whatever Zephyr was saying had begun to deeply resonate with Jimmy, because slowly, he began to nod as if accepting, reluctantly at first, what he was hearing.
“So it’ll be just like last night?”
“Yeah,” Donovan said. “Don’t fuck up, and we won’t have nothin’ to say.”
Jimmy shrugged. “I guess that’s the best deal I’m gonna get out of you two.”
Kalana clapped her hands together, reminding Zach and the others she was still huddled around with the rest of them. “It sounds like we finally all agree,” she said cheerfully. “Now all we gotta do is figure out when we’re gonna fight this thing and how.”
Upon those words, the debate over scheduling resumed—or at least it was about to. But Zach had finally had enough. And so, stepping in at last, he marched up to the six of them and waved both his arms back and forth. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“Zach?” Kalana asked, sounding concerned as she turned to face him. Donovan, Zephyr, Fiona, Jimmy, and Mr. Oren all glanced in his direction as well.
“Zach, my man, what’s going on?”
Zach stood defiantly before them. “It’s been four fucking hours and I’m done listening to this shit. Make up your minds in the next five seconds or I’m leaving. And the other adventurers will probably go too. Seriously, either we fight that thing now or we do it tomorrow. But at this rate, it’s going to be tomorrow by the time you guys decide.”
In response to his demands, Fiona looked worried, Mr. Oren frowned, and Jimmy merely seemed uncertain. Donovan, Kalana, and Zephyr, on the other hand, actually bowed their heads in apparent agreement. “The kid’s right,” Donovan said. “We’re wasting time. Let the Explorer’s Brigade do their thing and we’ll go at it first thing in the morning.”
“That is not acceptable,” Mr. Oren replied. “The disruption this will cause to the citizens of Faded Island as well as the danger being faced by those under my command back in Shadowfall Coast is too great for us to delay the hunting of this raid boss. Donovan, you have a responsibility as an adventurer. The one and only responsibility you drunken fools actually have to uphold!”
As Mr. Oren spoke, he became more and more heated. “It’s fine that you’re eager to get back to drinking and fighting and pissing but you can not walk away from this and leave it for tomorrow. People are stranded because of the road closures. Do your job!”
“Take it easy,” Donovan replied. He spoke at a low volume, his eyes narrowed. “Remember who you’re talking to, Alex.”
“I do,” Mr. Oren insisted. “I’m speaking to an imbecile. A man who, like his peers, has just one single responsibility and can’t even be relied upon to do that much. Why do you think I left? The adventurers behave like oblivious, Gods-cursed fools, and you’re the king of these idiots.”
“Say that again.” Like before, Donovan spoke the words in a calm, low tone. “Go ahead, Alex. Call me that again.”
To Zach’s surprise, Mr. Oren actually stood his ground. “You, Donovan, are the king of the—”
Mr. Oren’s words ended in a croak as, with unexpected speed, Donovan’s right, gauntleted hand blazed forward, grabbing at Mr. Oren’s neck. Zach, too stunned to even process what he was seeing, let alone react, watched in absolute astonishment as Donovan’s fingers wrapped tightly around Mr. Oren’s throat, where he then began to lift his arm, causing Mr. Oren to raise up and dangle several inches in the air with his legs kicking as he continued to make gasping, choking sounds.
“Wh-what the hell?” Zach shouted, finally finding his words. “Guys, what the fuck?”
“Stop!” Kalana shouted.
Jimmy merely backed away. Now, the eyes of every adventurer out here under the early-afternoon summer sun turned towards the sudden commotion. And as anyone would expect, they began to cheer and create an absolute ruckus as Donovan continued to raise his arm, lifting Mr. Oren higher and higher, his legs kicking and the sound of his choking intensifying. Zach knew he should do something. He knew he should do something now. But he was so transfixed and shocked over the fact that something like this was even happening that it impeded his ability to react.
“Oh, wow!” cried an adventurer from somewhere behind Zach. “Science bitch is finally getting what he deserves! Always wanted to see this!”
“Fuck him up!” another adventurer shouted. “Fuck him up, Donovan!”
The several-dozen members of the Children of Order that were mixed in with the adventuring crowd all now looked to Fiona Darkmae as though for some idea of how they should proceed. She herself didn’t seem to know.
“Boys, knock it off,” she said to them. “You, big guy, let him go. You’re hurting him.”
“Donovan, let him go!” Kalana shouted, balling her hands into fists. This prompted Zach to panic. How badly could this escalate? What the fuck was even happening and why? Why now, all of a sudden? Had the bad blood between those two really gotten to such a point that something like this could happen?
What do I do? I don’t know what to do!
As the adventurers were whipped up into a frenzy, one in particular began to share in Zach’s sense of panic. “Donovan, no!” Zephyr cried. “He’s the third-in-command of the Lords of Justice now! You can’t do this! Gods, come to your senses! If you hurt or humiliate him too badly it will destroy our whole community!”
Donovan tightened his grip. “Nah, Zeph. He’s the same old Alex he always was. He needs a bit of tough love, don’t you, kiddo?”
Mr. Oren’s choking became even louder in volume, and for a moment, Zach worried that it sounded way too much like a death rattle. But then he realized it was something even worse. It was Mr. Oren laughing of all things. And now, with his throat being strangled, he somehow managed to croak out a few words. “Not…the same old,” he managed to say.
“Oh no?”
“No!”
Zach had the sense something really bad was about to happen. And he’d never wanted to be more wrong. He’d never wanted to be so off base. Yet as it all unfolded, he had his fears confirmed. And he was powerless to stop it.
Mr. Oren flicked his hand from right to left, and in that single motion, a dart made of pure light appeared between his fingers. Then, at point blank, he launched this dart into the side of Donovan’s neck, penetrating deeply into the man’s flesh and causing blood to begin pouring out and hundreds of cheers to die off and turn to screams. He released Mr. Oren immediately, who landed on his feet as Donovan stumbled backwards. Then Mr. Oren snapped up his right foot and bashed it into Donovan’s groin, causing the man to groan loudly. His knees buckled, and he entered a half-standing, half-squatting position.
And everything just sort of happened so fast from that point on.
Summoning a blade that he gripped in both hands, Mr. Oren actually took a real, genuine swing at Donovan, one that clearly held lethal intent. Donovan, still pressing his right, gauntleted hand against the dire, very serious open wound in his throat, drew his weapon with his left while continuing to stumble backwards and drip blood. Swinging it upwards, he managed to deflect Mr. Oren’s sword, the two weapons clashing in a shower of sparks.
Even with just one hand, and even while grievously wounded, Donovan struck with so much strength that the clumsy swing still almost managed to knock the sword out of Mr. Oren’s grip. But Mr. Oren repositioned himself and pressed Donovan. And it was in this moment that it finally clicked: he was really going to kill him. This wasn’t just playing around.
“Stop!” the adventurers shouted. “Alex, stop! Please!”
Mr. Oren swung his blade three times, and Donovan guarded against the first two, then stumbled and ended up being bit in the right shoulder. Mr. Oren’s blade managed to cut right through the dark plate armor and slash him deep. This, as his right hand failed to stem the flow of blood that was leaving a trail in almost a perfectly straight line in the street as he continued to stagger backwards and away.
“F-fucker,” Donovan gargled.
Zach screamed out to Mr. Oren, but there was such a dark rage in his eyes that it was impossible to get through to him. He didn’t know who to help or what to do. He just wanted this to stop. And to make matters worse, five outraged adventurers were now rushing towards Mr. Oren with their weapons drawn. One, a caster, muttered something and then extended his staff. But Mr. Oren actually seemed to know what he was going to cast before he even cast it, because he swung his sword with such perfect, effortless timing that in the same instant the mage’s purple ball of fire had ripped across the destroyed market square, it was already dissipating on the end of his sword.
“Alex, you son of a bitch!” cried the other four adventurers—and then an additional five. No, ten. No, twenty! They were all charging at him. And Zach, still, had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. This was a catastrophe. This was beyond awful. And Mr. Oren, he…his eyes were shifting actively around, and a look of determination settled on his face. He looked convincingly like he really intended to take on the entire Gods-be-damned adventuring community all by himself.
Inexplicably, he also looked convincingly like he might win. At least if his posture and demeanor were anything to go by. He even cast several buffs on himself and entered a fighting stance. This, as Donovan, still stumbling away, dropped his axe and collapsed, likely near death. Everything was getting out of control. Everything was going to hell. And for just an instant, Zach wondered if, despite everything he’d endured, this would end up being the worst day of his life.
But then Kalana’s voice rang out louder than all others.
“Trelvor!” she shouted. “Seiley!”
“Yes, your Highness!” they replied at once, ferocity in their words.
“The humans have gone crazy! Subdue them!”
“Yes, your Highness!”
And they did. They really did.
Reminding everyone present just how much of a gap existed between themselves and the Elvish, Trelvor, Kalana, and Seiley went on a rampage, the latter two using only their fists and their speed. Blasting back and forth so fast that it seemed like a special effect in a movie, Kalana was conking people over the head left and right and putting them on their back. Many collapsed outright, including Reni Sarwin and even the incredibly stout Maric Ultdern. At the same time, Trelvor began playing a melody on his flute, and golden musical notes visible to the eye began gliding off the end of the flute and sailing over a half-dozen adventurers, causing them to immediately drop their weapons and fall onto their faces, several of them snoring.
Kalana then dashed forward towards Mr. Oren, but not before looking over her shoulder, reaching into her pockets, and producing a handful of various rejuvenation stones. She locked eyes with Zach and then she threw them at him like speeding bullets. Somehow, he managed to catch each one. And with that, he ran as fast as he could over to Donovan.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, moving as urgently as he could. “Donovan! Hey, hey, I’ve got you.” Zach, dropping down immediately by his side, began slamming the healing stones onto the man. “Here. You’re okay. Here.”
Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right.
They weren’t working. For some reason, they weren’t shattering or disappearing or being absorbed. They remained whole and unbroken. And this was true be they red, purple, or yellow.
And then it suddenly dawned on Zach. It hit him so hard that feelings he thought Jascaila had helped put past him came rushing uncontrollably back to the surface. In just that moment, so much of the progress he’d made seemed to become unraveled. His composure. His control of mind. His sense of stability. All that he’d learned to endure and cope with. It was all just gone.
“Donovan?” he whimpered.
He was dead. Right? That was why. That was why this wasn’t working. Zach screamed. It happened so quickly. Too quickly. Too quickly. Too quickly. Too quickly. Too quickly.
And you did nothing.
And you did nothing.
AND YOU DID NOTHING.
He screamed. He screamed again. He was losing it. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He was okay now. He’d gotten beyond this. So why? Why did he begin to tremble so terribly? Out of sheer desperation, with tears raining down his eyes, he began to smash the stones down on Donovan’s face. Harder. And then harder. And then harder. There was a snap as Donovan’s jaw broke. But he continued to slam the stones down on him over and over and over.
“No!” he screamed, bludgeoning him so hard in the face that his hands became bloodied. Again and again and again, he screamed and slammed and bludgeoned, his hands becoming bloodier and bloodier even as he began to question his own sanity.
But then something happened.
There was another crack, and the entire handful of stones vanished. Every stone at last shattered and disappeared, and the moment they did so, Zach held his breath, all while shaking uncontrollably in a state of bewildered shock.
For a terribly painful few moments, nothing happened. And then, visibly, Donovan’s just-broken jaw began to heal, the bone snapping back into place all on its own. Seeing this, Zach exhaled and then once more began to breathe. At the same time, Zach’s sanity returned to him as quickly as it had fled. He had no idea what had happened or why. Was Donovan going to live? Was he actually pulling through this? But how?
Perhaps there was some tiny, barely lit flame of life that still existed within him: one so faint that it was only by beating him mercilessly over the head with the stones that he was able to fan it just enough to where the items became usable. But with even more tears now raining down his eyes, Zach grabbed the man, whose neck wound had begun to close up and seal, and whose eyes were beginning to open. And in them, there was neither shock nor anger, just amusement.
“Fucker actually did it, huh? Good for him.”
Utterly floored by Donovan’s response, he watched as the man picked himself up off the ground, gave him a powerful pat on the back, and rose back to his feet, his axe once again in hand. Zach, still trembling, ran his mind through every breathing technique and every thought process that Jascaila had taught him. He was disappointed in himself: very disappointed. Yet perhaps that was his own fault for believing there was no more progress left to make. Even still, the fact that he’d been on the verge of a mental collapse was not the most prominent thing on his mind. No, there was something else. A realization. A terrible realization.
Donovan would never have killed Mr. Oren, he thought. He would not have actually choked him to death no matter what. I know it, Zephyr knows it, Kal knows it—everybody knows it. Even Mr. Oren probably knew it. Donovan would never, ever, ever have done that. But Mr. Oren tried to kill him anyway.
“Donovan,” Zach said, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know why he did that to you. I don’t know why he—”
There was a roar: a loud, angry roar that came from the boss. It was a loud, neighing growl that filled the air with its ominous sound. Alarmed, Zach turned his head to look in its direction, and now, floating above the top of its head more than two stories above them, he could just make out the number 1,211. Something—someone—had damaged it. Likely by accident. And now, it was charging them—but at an angle that saw it run directly through three still-standing buildings, toppling all three with tremendously loud crunching sounds along with subsequent snaps. It also caused a cloud of dust and debris to dirty the air.
Mr. Oren, as though finally coming to his senses, backed away from Kal just before she clobbered him over the head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Worry about that.”
His throat having gone dry, Zach waited for enough saliva to form in order to swallow. And then he said, “Donovan, I have no idea what—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his neck stained red from all the blood that’d been pouring out of him. And just like that, he shifted gears as though everything was still as it was before. “Jimmy! You got your damn wish. Raid’s on!”
It was only now that Zach realized Jimmy had snuck away during the little brawl, having moved half a block in the opposite direction as though wanting absolutely no part in whatever the hell that was. And who could blame him? Even having brought himself fully under control, Zach was still trembling almost as though it were a physical aftershock to the mental earthquake that’d just gone off within himself.
“Don’t you wanna de-aggro it?” Jimmy called back, having to really shout to be heard from this distance.
Donovan shrugged. “You really think you can beat this thing, kiddo?”
“Hell yeah I do.”
“Then go ahead.” He rubbed the spot on his neck where Mr. Oren’s dart had almost caused him to bleed out. It was as though he could still feel the pain of it, though Zach doubted such pain was physical. “You’re in charge. No co-leadership either. It’s all you.”
Now, Jimmy, who still seemed to be slinking away, came to an abrupt halt and then immediately began running back towards them. “Wait, no cap?”
“No what?”
“I mean, seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Let’s. Fucking. Go!” he shouted, pumping his fist. Rather than head straight for him, he instead headed first for a young-looking member of Children of Order. He exchanged a few words, then shook the man’s hand, and then the man gave him a megaphone he’d been holding.
“All right, boys and girls, listen up," his voice blared over the megaphone. "We’re doing this shit. Everybody fall back to me for a de-aggro and a reset. We not starting things off like this. On me. Let’s go!”
Amid all the awful yet surprising things Zach had just witnessed, it seemed there was still room for more unexpected events. And in this case, it was the way in which Jimmy seemingly transformed himself into a more confident, capable, and genuinely inspiring figure in a matter of moments. He’d seen this from him once before, actually: when they’d entered Trials of Nolak for the first time. Almost until the exact moment in time they'd slid down into the dungeon, Jimmy had been timid and agreeable. This had begun to change as they neared the dungeon, but it was really upon entering it that this other side of him had emerged. Zach supposed that there was just something unique about the world of adventuring that turned this typically meek nineteen-year-old kid into a general-like figure with a certainty of purpose that could inspire confidence in even the most skeptical disbeliever. And it was a trait he seemed to know how to put to good use, such as right now.
Even with a nod from Zephyr, the adventurers seemed to hesitate while the giant horse boss drew nearer and nearer, making straight for whoever had launched the wayward attack that'd aggroed it. All around, there was a general sense of reluctance due to the unresolved conflict between Donovan and Mr. Oren. Clearly, their focus was now on something other than the raid. But Jimmy found a way to overcome this problem, and it was likely due to nothing more than the commanding tone he struck as he addressed them all. First, Jimmy made a tsk sound, and then, moving his lips even closer to the megaphone, he called out, “Everybody, leave your personal bullshit drama behind on my raid. I don’t give a damn what ya’ll are fighting about. You take that elsewhere or you’re kicked out. Now get your asses over here. Now!’
And to Zach’s surprise, they listened. Even Mr. Oren. All at once, everyone sort of just sheathed their weapons and moved along—all except those who’d been knocked out cold or put to sleep by Trelvor’s flute. Those, adventurers had to scoop up and carry.
Ugliness had taken place here. Real, true ugliness. And for that reason, Zach was actually glad they had a raid boss to fight. He doubted he was alone in this thinking, too. Because anything right now was better than thinking about what had just happened. Truly, anything was better than that. Anything.
*****
His hands still folded behind his back, Adamus watched carefully. His eyes closed, a vivid picture filling his mind, he was tempted to look away in disgust as the Galterrans proved themselves to be the same as they always were. Yet he also felt pleased to a degree.
Once again, had it not been for the system, people would have chosen to fight one another to the death instead of striving to survive as one. His system was constantly proved correct and just. In spite of all the naysayers and second guessers who over thousands of years had condemned it, the correctness of Adamus's philosophy prevailed. Yes indeed, as always, the system was self-vindicating.
So why, then, were those Adamus relied upon the most always the first to cast doubt? Why, then, had all the Great Ones save for Eilea chosen to abandon it? And even in the case of his beloved, she had not remained due to a lingering belief in the system but rather an emotional attachment to the people of Galterra. But why? Why, when the proof was plainly on display for any who bothered to simply look? To behold with their own eyes that the only way a world of peace could ever exist in tandem with free will was to provide its inhabitants a common enemy: to force them into cooperation or face extinction.
From the very beginning, the Great Ones had all worked against his vision. Adamus had been mortal enemies with most of them as a young man. Their conflicts had scorched the last remnants of civilization: all of it. Civilization itself had ended. For hundreds of years, a handful of magnificently powerful beings had fought one another over literally nothing, as nothing had remained with which to gain. Yet in a strange sort of harmony, all the Great Ones seemed to finally see the error of their ways, Adamus included, and they had worked as one to remake the world, and all had agreed to the fundamental basis of Adamus's vision. But they simply would not cede full control of it.
Compromise.
Compromise had yielded failure. Had Adamus only been given his way, Galterra would have been a far more brutal, far more dangerous world than that which had been created. Yet the people had been given too much slack, and they had used this slack to fight one another and perpetuate all the injustices the system had been designed to erase. Compounding these issues was his beloved's constant, never-ending interference.
But none of that truly mattered anymore. The Great Ones would never be a threat to him again, and though he alone lacked the power to create new worlds, he did have the power to begin anew on Archian Prime once the World Eater destroyed Galterra. Archian Prime, though also a T1 planet, was far more dangerous, densely packed, and inhospitable to sentient life. And this time around, Adamus would not require anyone’s agreement to seed it and start the project over from the beginning. Eagerly—yet also sadly—he longed to see the World Eater spawn and devour the failure that was Galterra. And to that end, it would begin here today as he waited to learn the manner in which these adventurers would soon face their death. He could not envision this lasting beyond the next ten or so minutes.
Would any survive? Most likely not. They would be utterly blindsided by the complexities of a boss, one equivalent to those more typically found on a T2 world.
Yes, all was as it needed to be.