The villagers parted as the elder walked through the crowd. William limped after him, leaning on his sword like a crutch. The boy hurried to his side and took some of his weight. Not a bad instinct. He hadn’t even told him to.

  They reached the elder’s cottage, a squat timber building at the square’s edge, but still larger than most of the homes. The air inside was thick with the smell of herbs and smoke. A long table was set near the hearth, its surface scarred by decades of use.

  “Please, sit, my lord.” The elder pointed to a bench beside the table.

  Will eased down with a hiss, metal groaning as he did. The boy hovered, his hands twitching as though afraid to touch the divine relic that was his new master’s battered armour.

  “Off.” Will jerked his chin at the breastplate. “Start with the straps.” He guessed, having never worn armour in real life. In the game, it was a simple thought to equip or remove an entire set of armour. He’d tried and failed to dismiss his armour straight into his spatial storage; he’d discovered he had to remove an item first.

  The boy scrambled to obey. Buckles snapped, leather tugged free, and the armour clattered piece by piece onto the table beside him. Sweat cooled against William’s skin as the crushing weight eased. He felt naked without it, but freer.

  The elder’s wife hovered with a steaming bowl of stew, thick with root vegetables and a slab of coarse bread. She looked at the filthy armour on her table and harrumphed. “I hope you’re going to clean up this mess when you’re done?” She aimed the question at Fredric, who nodded, but also glanced towards William. “Please, eat.” She passed him the food. “You’ll need your strength, my lord.”

  Will didn’t hesitate. “Thank you. And, erm, sorry for the mess.” He gave the old woman an apologetic smile—his poor imitation of a fallen god persona slipping—before tearing into the food. His spoon scraped against the bowl, while the elder knelt by his injured leg. The greave came loose with effort, revealing a gash swollen and sticky with half-dried blood. Will grunted from the pain and thumped his fist on the table, causing the armour to rattle.

  “Sorry, my lord.” The old man’s fingers probed with surprising firmness. William bit back a snarl. “You’ll live, my lord,” the elder muttered, dabbing the wound with a cloth soaked in stinging liquor. “But limp too long on it, and it’ll never heal right.”

  The boy looked pale at the sight of blood. Will smirked through clenched teeth. “Get used to it, squire. You’ll see much worse.” He took another spoonful of stew. I hope that’s not true. I’m never doing that again. Though it was really exciting, and I did unlock a stat. He shook his head at the dumb thought of fighting the lizard again.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The elder finished binding the leg in clean linen, tying the knot snug. “There, my lord. The other gods may have cast you down in mortal form, but Brindlecross will not see its chosen bleed to death on our doorstep.”

  Even he believes I’m a cast-out god? Will leaned back, the pain in his leg dulled beneath the ache of exhaustion.

  The boy straightened at his side, ready to follow the next order. The elder studied him, eyes gleaming with something between reverence and calculation.

  Tomorrow, William thought, he’d demand answers about these crystals and this strange faith they had in a fallen god. For tonight, though, he needed sleep. “You mentioned a room?”

  The old man nodded and gestured towards a passageway. “Yes, my lord.”

  Will rose and followed the old man to a room that looked like it had been prepared in a hurry. “This will be fine.” He dropped down on the bed. “Fred. Clean my armour the best you can.” He kept the still bloody sword with him.

  “Y-yes, my lord.” His new squire rushed to collect the armour and almost tripped over a small table.

  William adjusted his injured leg so it wouldn’t bother him too much. “I need rest after my battle. The large lizard is dead, but the dungeon is still infested with weak goblins.”

  The elder smiled and offered a small bow. “That is welcome news, my lord.” He hesitated before continuing, “Do you plan to clear out the rest of the goblins? It would be a great service to the village, my lord.” He bowed again. “We used to use the caves for growing mushrooms.”

  He received a notification.

  [Questline Triggered: Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats]

  William’s eyebrows raised at the thought of going through all that again. “We’ll talk in the morning.” He gestured towards the door with his eyes.

  The old man took the hint. “Yes, my lord. My good wife will prepare you a hearty breakfast.”

  Will smiled as the old man guided the shell-shocked teen out of the room and closed the door. Breakfast sounds good. He lay back and checked his broken interface for changes.

  [SYSTEM ERROR: Incomplete Interface]

  [Quests] Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats, SYSTEM ERROR

  [Warning: Minor Fatigue 59%]

  [Warning: Moderate Injury ??%]

  “Why can’t I see the descriptions?” He was trying to access the information window for the [Clear the Caves of Goblins and Other Threats] quest, but nothing happened. He let his eyes close while he spent a few minutes trying to log out and access other menus, but like before, nothing he tried worked.

  He could hear the elder and his wife talking in the kitchen, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Stupid game developers,” William complained as he tried to relax. “Just you wait until I get free of this death trap. I’m going to sue you for millions of credits.” The thought made him smile for a moment before anger got the better of him.

  “What sort of sick, sadistic cretin allows AI programmers to set the pain settings to realistic?” There was an option to feel some pain, to make the experience more real, but nothing like what he was suffering.

  William clenched his fists. “Stupid idiots.”

  Blood Mage Assassin.

  Chapter 007 [Info Dump: Post Apocalyptic Times]