The Lord’s men cleaned up the camp. Alex watched the servants, squires, and common warriors setting up the fallen tents, rekindling extinguished fires, loading the ravens’ corpses onto wagons, and carrying them into the forest.

In the distance, the knights talked and gesticulated feverishly, not yet recovered from the frenzy of battle. Healers treated the wounded. Alex noticed that they had special techniques for doing so. One warrior had a gaping wound in his side, and an energetic old healer simply passed his glowing palm over it a few times, and the wound closed instantly. The old man didn’t even have to spit on the warrior.

Alex wanted to help the servants and soldiers, at least carry away some of the dead ravens, but that seemed to raise questions. The knights clearly didn’t like to get their hands dirty. The aristocrats only gave orders, while the squires and warriors did all the work, efficiently and quickly, even if they could have used some help. Thus Alex had to cross his itching arms and wait haughtily for the fallen tent with the gray wolves on the walls to be erected.

With that demeanor, Alex wandered around the camp and eventually made his way to the very edge. Above him, the sky was a beautiful canopy of stars, while hot, dry air rose from the campfires. The horses snorted and the wagon wheels creaked in the silence.

Alex felt someone looking at him, turned and froze. At the edge of the clearing stood a skinny boy in tattered clothes, covered in blood. His gray hair fell over his shoulders, and his violet eyes burned with cold fire. Suddenly a branch snapped under one of the warriors’ boots as he dragged a raven corpse, and the boy retreated into the shadows of the trees and disappeared, never to return.

Soon the warriors, accustomed to constant battle, went to bed. The camp fell asleep. Alex also returned to his tent. He flopped down on the cot and covered himself with a woolen blanket.

Despite his overwhelming exhaustion, thoughts continued to plague him. He replayed the recent events in his mind: the endless wandering through the monster-infested dungeon, the Major Arcana Council, the difficult conversation with the Queen of Frost, meeting the people of this new world… Shifting to another world felt strangely natural, without any undue anxiety. These events could have broken even a special forces soldier, but Alex had endured. Why? Even now, he perceived the dangers of the past and the uncertainties of the future with relative calm, without succumbing to intense hysteria. Only a heavy weight of thoughts pressed on his chest.

One particular aspect of Alex’s behavior stood out from his usual self — the conversation with the Queen of Frost, essentially one of the most dangerous monsters. In his conversations with her, it was as if two personalities were battling within Alex — the familiar master and the ordinary guy from Earth. Why was that? Could it be the influence of the Tower technique? Did the Major Arcana change a person’s mindset? Was the owner of the Devil card destined to become a real devil?

His eyelids grew heavy and Alex yawned. Eventually, he fell fast asleep, but in the middle of the night, he forced himself to wake up. He groggily emerged from the realm of Morpheus, rubbed his eyes, found his sword in its well-worn sheath, and crawled outside. Stumbling over fallen branches, he moved deeper into the forest, where the glow of a campfire pierced the thicket. On the way, he encountered a sentry, but the warrior paid him no attention, probably assuming that the Lord’s guest had gone to relieve himself. He was almost right. Alex did indeed relieve himself, but then summoned the Queen of Frost.

“What do you want?” The Queen of Frost pounced on him. Her sky-blue gown trembled around her slender figure.

“I need to practice with the sword,” Alex put on leather gloves, pulled the blade from its sheath, and assumed a fighting stance he had observed among the knights during the battle with the ravens. “Can you keep watch, please?” He added, remembering his nightly thoughts and listening to his instincts. “If anyone comes here, let me know immediately.”

The Queen could sense people at a distance and even read their ranks. So far, Alex had been lucky, but if experienced swordsmen took a closer look at him, they would immediately see through his lack of skill. Aristocrats were taught how to use a sword from an early age, and they were engaged in deadly combat almost from childhood. It wouldn’t take seasoned warriors long to figure him out. Self-improvement was necessary. At the very least, he needed to practice his strikes and get used to the weapon so that the sword would feel like an extension of himself rather than a loose stick.

“Ha-ha, shall I rub your shoulders, great swordsman?” The Queen of Frost sneered.

“Another time,” Alex waved his blade. “Right now, it would distract you from watching.”

“Oh, you!” The Queen seethed. “Impudent! I’m leaving!”

“No,” Alex said quietly and continued his training. He pondered for a moment: how did the knights struck down the ravens? It had seemed like a wider swing, slightly bent arms, or not? “If the Lord’s men find me out and kill me, what will happen to you? You don’t know? Do you want to find out?”

“Find you out?” The Queen of Frost said in surprise. “Who are you pretending to be? Who are you really? And why are you swinging the sword like a chicken leg?”

“All questions for later,” Alex dismissed her. “Will you be stubborn? Or help me? Remember, if we talk all night, they’ll hang me in the morning.”

“Fine,” the Queen of Frost pursed her lips and turned away with an offended expression.

For several hours, Alex had been practicing with the weapon. He chopped thin branches, cleared snow and pine needles from the paws of the fir tree, swung at the air, and got used to the unbalanced weight in his hand. At least now he could hold the sword properly, like a native, instead of clumsily fumbling with it, not knowing where to put it.

The Queen of Frost had been standing with her back to him the whole time, like a statue, only occasionally glancing over her shoulder at his efforts. She twisted her face, but said nothing.

“Someone is coming,” she spoke suddenly, craning her neck. “A low-level creature.”

“What?” Alex wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. “Not human? But what?”

“I don’t know,” the Queen of Frost shrugged. “Well, good luck.”

She disappeared. Alex didn’t even have time to react and restrain his wayward familiar. He was too tired from the slashing, his body felt heavy and his side ached.

Ogner, broad-shouldered and huge, emerged from behind the trees and approached slowly. He showed no surprise at finding Alex in the forest in the middle of the night with his sword drawn. The knight came closer, and the shadows of the trees hid the features of his rough face under the visorless helmet.

“Ogner, what are you doing here?” Alex asked, looking around. “Looking for a monster? I thought I heard a growl...” He tried to warn the scout of the danger.

“No, there’s no one here,” Ogner dismissed and examined the blade. “Is this your sword? It’s bad. The edges are blunt. It looks like a useless hunk. You couldn’t even cut off a branch with it.”

“But at least it’s not bent,” Alex replied, feeling a pang of shame for his temporary weapon.

“Let me have a closer look,” Ogner demanded, holding out his hand. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Alex got suspicious. The Queen of Frost hadn’t said anything about the grandmaster, only mentioned some creature. What if...

He slashed at a bush at the side, revealing the orange light of the campfire. The flames illuminated Ogner’s face, lifeless and apathetic. His eyes were completely white, without pupils, and narrowed in anger. With a faint cry, the monster lunged at Alex.

Responding in kind, Alex swung his sword clumsily. The blade struck the foe’s helmet with a clatter. Alex’s fingers throbbed with pain and his hands went numb. Ogner just staggered back and waved his clawed hands. That was when Alex grabbed the sword from the other end and awkwardly smashed the heavy hilt against Ogner’s forehead. The monster collapsed like a felled tree. Alex continued to strike the writhing foe with the hilt. The helmet dented, and the false knight’s skull cracked open, its eyes rolling apart.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Alex screamed and stomped on the writhing creature beneath his feet. The monster lost its false knight form and turned into a skinny, fox-like creature on two legs. Its ragged orange tail fell to the ground and the broken beast stopped moving.

Alex stepped back. Behind him was the pounding of boots, the crunching of branches, shouts and noise. Alex saw Ogner close by, the real one, without a tail and white eyes. Behind him was a steel-clad figure with a red crest — Sir Enessen.

Ogner looked at the fox’s lifeless body, then at the red hilt of Alex’s sword. The knight furrowed his brow. The hilt was completely soaked in blood, but there wasn’t a single stain on the blade. Alex grew nervous and looked around, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

“Well, Sir Alex,” Ogner remarked, “Northern fencing techniques never cease to amaze me.”

“There are trees all around,” Alex muttered. “There’s little room for a full swing, so the cuts would be shallow. And if swung like a club… the hilt is heavier than the blade.”

The surrounding knights exchanged glances and nodded respectfully — the northerner clearly knew how to fight.

Enessen stood in front of Alex, staring at him through the slits in the visor. When had he managed to put on his armor? He couldn’t sleep in it...

“Sir Alex, how did you recognize the Kitsune?” the Garrison Commander asked sternly, suspicion in his voice. “He would have been revealed in the light, but in the dark it’s almost impossible.”

Alex opened and closed his mouth, unable to come up with an explanation. The knight stared at him. The others seemed concerned as well.

“I didn’t recognize him,” Alex finally snapped.

“Then how did you...”

“He asked for my sword,” Alex replied.

“And?” Enessen didn’t understand.

“A knight would never give his sword to another.”

Silence fell. The knights took a small step away from Alex, not as if from an exposed enemy, but as if from their kin, an overzealous fanatic who unswervingly revered every letter of the Knight’s Code. Only Enessen stood still, but, just to be sure, he moved his hand closer to the hilt of the sword at his belt.

“I’ll report this incident to my Lord,” Enessen marched straight through the bushes toward the camp, crushing and trampling branches with his armored legs.

Alex lowered his eyes to the dead monster. Its split, elongated jaws glowed.

A System window appeared before his eyes:

Kitsune’s Tooth of Cunning

F-rank ingredient. Provides the ability to fool interrogation techniques. One-time use.

Oh, loot!

“Sorry, sirs,” Alex nodded at the knights.

With a better grip on the sword, he began to maneuver around the body, trying to find a more convenient way to remove the magic tooth. The knights turned away and went about their business. Collecting trophies was a sacred duty that pleased the gods.

In the morning they continued on the road through forests, steppes and hills. No one attacked from the sky anymore. A few times flocks of cranes flew by, and once an unidentifiable leathery creature passed overhead, leaving Alex stunned. But it didn’t even look at the humans, and Alex was grateful for that. Riding proved to be a challenge for him. His muscles felt like they were peeled away from his bones, and his backside had turned into one big bruise. Why hadn’t this world thought of comfortable car seats, when it had managed to master superhuman techniques?

Gimbon continued to accompany Alex. The other knights, except for Ogner and Krenner, kept their distance, showing him respect by not getting too close. Perhaps they were all impressed by the brutally beaten fox? Ogner and Krenner, however, were constantly on scouting duty. Rodrik was, of course, a source of constant favor, but the Lord had plenty of other things to do besides entertaining Alex.

All the while, Gimbon kept stealing glances at Alex and finally asked:

“Sir Alex, do you keep your rank a secret?”

“Like everyone else,” he replied ambiguously, a preference he had developed lately.

“I see,” Gimbon sighed. He looked no older than sixteen, freckled and healthy, with hands that could probably bend horseshoes.

“Is it different in your kingdom?” Alex asked, in an effort to learn more about the natives.

“No, not at all. It’s the same for us, except for the knights. They’re not like everyone else,” Gimbon clarified.

Well, honorable knights didn’t hide their achievements, on the contrary, they were proud of them and displayed their ranks like heraldic shields.

“Even the mage-knights?” Alex asked, but immediately realized he might have misspoken when Gimbon looked at him in surprise.

“Why should there be knights without techniques? Knights are the elite of the nation! A candidate should be at least an Adept. Neophytes aren’t allowed to be initiated, no matter how influential their family is, until they have acquired their second technique.”

“Yes,” Alex nodded calmly, “But Sir Ogner and Sir Krenner are obviously more powerful than Adepts.”

“Of course,” he said ironically. “They both hold E-rank. Sir Krenner is a Master and Sir Ogner a Grandmaster. The only one more formidable is the Lord, he’s almost a D-rank!”

“D-rank?” Alex inquired.

“Yes, almost a Magister,” Gimbon confirmed enthusiastically. “They say he already has three out of five D-rank techniques. Once he masters the remaining two, the Lord will move up to D-rank, then his Strength, Agility, and Endurance will rise exponentially. Not to mention, his number of techniques will increase as well. But most importantly, the Lord will come very close to C-rank, which is the realm of Immortals! Ordinary people wouldn’t even dare to dream of such a thing.”

Alex processed the information. His brain felt like it was grinding. So, to advance to the next rank as a mage, you had to raise all your available techniques to the next level. At the new rank, more techniques became available. At F-rank, there were only two techniques, while at E-rank, there were already five. Alex currently had only one technique, F-rank. So he needed to raise it to E-rank and acquire another technique, an E-rank one. Then he would become an E-rank, just like Krenner. These were his two most important tasks. How could he accomplish them?

Stop! The Queen of Frost was a C-rank monster! Wow, that meant she was really powerful. It was good that the system had her chained up, otherwise Alex would have ended up in an icy coffin long ago.

In the evening, they stopped in the shade of the trees near a stream. The squires and warriors dismounted, tied sacks of oats to their horses’ muzzles, and lit campfires. The scouts set out to explore the area.

“Sir Alex! Sir Alex!” Sergeant Ganen’s voice rang out. The huge supply officer approached Alex, who was standing near the tent.

“My Lord has instructed me to give you crystals for collecting Essence. It seems monsters will attack us many times,” the sergeant said as he handed him a gray sack.

Alex looked inside. Transparent faceted stones tinkled there.

“Do you…”

Do you need crystals to collect essences? Alex almost blurted out, but stopped in time. It turned out that the natives needed them, but he didn’t. Here was another revelation.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Ganen sighed, “The monsters have become more active, and the warriors will have to draw their swords again.”

“I need a better sword myself,” Alex seized the opportunity. “This one is very blunt.”

“I’ll give you a sharpening stone,” the sergeant retreated quickly. Was it a movement technique? “Well, see you later, sir.”

Soon, through a servant, Rodrik invited Alex to dinner, and he hurried to the dining tent.

Inside, a table of rough planks without a tablecloth was set on trestles. Rodrik was sitting at it. All the knights who were not on patrol were present. Enessen, without his armor, sat closest to the Lord, and on the other side was an empty chair.

“Please, take a seat, dear guest,” Rodrik gestured invitingly. “We haven’t been able to discuss last night’s incident all day. Sir Enessen has informed me of your unwavering loyalty to the Knight’s Code, which ultimately defeated the cunning fox.”

Enessen didn’t even look at Alex, as if the conversation had nothing to do with him.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Alex said as he sat down and looked at the table.

They were serving three suckling piglets, roasted to perfection, and his mouth watered.

“Not far from here, a few miles away, is a village under my jurisdiction. The guards went there this morning and bought these piglets,” the Lord informed. “So we’ll arrive at Golden Hill very soon.”

Despite their imminent return home, Rodrik was far from cheerful. Alex suspected the reason — after all, the Lord had still not obtained the Holy Slime for his daughter.

Alex had little reason to be cheerful either. Before dinner, he accidentally pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. The broken device served as a reminder of Earth, and his longing became unbearable. Thoughts of his mother and sister stirred the wounds in his soul.

“My Lord,” he leaned toward Rodrik, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. “Have you heard of other worlds?”

It was a bold and risky question. But if necessary, he could dismiss it as tales he’d heard in the north and turn the conversation to idle chatter.

Enessen looked at Alex in surprise as the Lord started. Rodrik was once again convinced of the connection between the Northerner and the Imperial House. Rumors had circulated that the Frost Empire controlled one of the magical portals.

“I only know the theory they teach at the royal universities,” Rodrik remarked. “But it’s a very intriguing subject, and I was interested in it in my youth.”

“Please, tell me more,” Alex pleaded, feeling his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

“The theory is based on the Magical Universe constantly expanding and swallowing up new worlds,” the Lord scratched his beard. “Traveling between worlds is possible, but it requires great power and a considerable amount of resources. In every world there are magical portals that connect others nearby.”

Alex flinched, his eyes widening. He imagined the Magical Universe as a 3D spider web, constantly spinning new threads in all directions. Could it be that on his last day on the job, Earth had fallen into this magical web?

“Does it expand?” Alex asked.

“They say it does,” Rodrik replied. “When a new civilization enters the Magical Universe, it gains an F-rank. Magic has just appeared there. This process is always accompanied by catastrophes and many deaths. It’s called the Cataclysm.”

Concern for his family gripped Alex’s heart. Rodrik continued, recalling snippets from the books he had read and lectures he had heard.

“Beastland used to be an ordinary planet, without monsters. Only ordinary animals lived here. But after the Cataclysm, everything changed,” the Lord mused. “Now, Beastland is an E-rank world. I believe the day isn’t far off when it’ll become a D-rank world.”

The sound of battle horns interrupted Rodrik. A sentry burst into the tent.

“My Lord! The village is under attack! Monsters!”

“Gather the warriors!” The Lord ordered, turning to the Garrison Commander. Enessen had already jumped to his feet, and the other knights followed.

Alex shook his head. It was a great reason to distract himself from missing his family. Besides, there was never too much loot.