Benjera waited for his cousin’s opinion. Jay sat on the edge of the wall with his legs swinging casually over a thirty-foot drop, inspecting the sleeve of his dark blue uniform like the height beneath him didn’t exist. He was squinting against the light when he looked up at Benjera.

  “I don’t know, Benji,” he said. “The wolf population is getting out of hand.”

  Benjera stood a few steps back from the edge with his arms folded, gaze slanted outward across the North Eastern Line. Below them, the world split diagonally between lands—the grasslands rolling out in gold with purple swirls through the fields on one side, and the calcified forest on the other, all white bark and rigid shapes.

  “They wiped out the parnax,” Benjera said, unmoved. “Along with five other infestations.”

  Jay looked up with orange eyes, like his father. A stern look, scolding Benjera like he was still the older, taller cousin and not way below Benjera’s rank. They might both be Runners of the Watch but Benjera had the black armband.

  Jay shook his head. “You shouldn’t try telling the gods which monsters deserve to die. It’s a slayer quest. You slay monsters. Letting wolves go is stupid.”

  “This is why I don’t tell you these things,” Benjera muttered.

  There was more to it that Benjera was failing to put into words. Wolves didn’t attack groups. They were clever enough to avoid engaging anyone wearing Lazil blue, even alone. That meant they culled other monsters. That meant they hunted the Lost—the strangers who wandered out of the halls disoriented and vulnerable. It meant less work for Benjera, on every front.

  But Jasreal saw only blasphemy in restraint, and the explanation didn’t come.

  “Just—” Jay sighed. His cousin looked exhausted in a way sleep didn’t fix. Tending Rasha while keeping the kids fed and supervised was wearing him thin. “Come back alive.”

  Benjera didn’t need to be reminded that everything hinged on him. He felt it as steadily as his own heart beat in his chest. His rank and pay were the only thing keeping everything together. Even the bishops were relying on Benjera, expecting perfection, or they wouldn’t send him alone.

  “I’ll be back before Fiora’s,” he said instead.

  Benjera lifted his pack and settled it cleanly on his shoulders so it wouldn’t catch on the sword or the tuning rod at his belt. The supplies inside were basic, mostly unnecessary. He didn’t technically need to camp in the nexus at all.

  He just preferred it.

  A brief vacation from clustered streets and rotting heat and the city’s constant stink of bodies and fear.

  Benjera placed one hand on the wall and vaulted over.

  The earth surged toward him with violent speed.

  [Endurance 12]

  [Agile 10]

  He landed lightly, impact dispersing through muscle and skill in equal measure. Then he started down the divide beside the fields, boots pressing into warm soil and coarse grass. When he glanced back, Jasreal touched his closed fist to his left shoulder, the mana sun in the ceiling above cutting his figure starkly. Benjera saluted back in the same fashion before Jay swung his legs up and vanished back into the guard tower.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  It was cruel that Jasreal was stuck on guard duty. He had been in the Watch nearly as long as Benjera. Too long. They were older than any standard Runner. Most of their peers had moved on to Arbiters or prestigious jobs like priests or judges. The ones that lived through the Watch, at least. Now they both constantly trained sixteen year olds. Benjera’s mind dipped low as he moved, thinking of how many of those young men’s lives slipped through their fingers like water.

  Distance settled into freedom as he walked and he was able to move past the morbid shadow.

  He hadn’t trained properly in over half a cycle while stuck training fresh recruits. High Bishop Mensi was making a big push for new officers since the last attack. Benjera hoped he wouldn’t have to kill a mage on this quest. They didn’t count for points. He rolled his shoulders. His muscles felt eager now, loose and hungry for motion. He unclipped the strap securing his tuning rod. The metal looked unremarkable—a plain length of alloy—but he’d spent gleams shaping his skillset around what metal could become in his hands. He veered closer to the treeline and drove the end of the rod into the trunk of a tree with a sharp, ringing smack.

  Pebble-sized fragments of bark cracked loose.

  [Resonance 12^^^]

  The world sharpened into an internal map.

  Grass separated into individual blades. Roots, stones, buried layers of earth—all of it connected into an invisible lattice beneath his awareness. Vibrations traveled cleanly through soil and wood and bone. The flood of data filtered itself instantly, delivering only what mattered right against his senses.

  Benjera exhaled slowly.

  Jasreal was right. Within his range alone, there were three of the six-legged wolves. They didn’t form true packs, they hunted in loose groups when opportunity favored them. There was no visible prey and they moved slowly in the general direction he was heading. He felt the question egging him on.

  He would sweep from the Line to the wild nexus. Leave one alive. Camp until he felt like returning. Only then would he come back for the reward. Benjera’s hand gripped the hilt of the sword on his belt. It was his favorite blade and last of his inherited collection. Benjera replaced the leather on the tang earlier in the season, and his father’s blade continued to be serviceable. The sound of the metal singing as he drew it slowly from its sheath brought a smile to his face.

  The question for Benjera had never been whether he could kill them.

  Out here was the only place he still smiled.

  The real question was how many he could kill with a single [Dash].

  [Dash 12^^^^]

  Benjera’s maxed skill was no longer running, it was more like he was thrown forward by Lazil’s force, body angling and correcting mid-flight as trees blurred past in streaks of white and shadow.

  [Combat 12 ^^^^]

  He felt his arm move before thought could rise. The blade hummed through resistance and the pressure in his palm told him the head had separated cleanly from the first wolf’s body without him ever needing to look. He couldn’t look.

  Momentum carried him through.

  His arm drew back and slashed up in one smooth line, cutting through the second wolf as it half-reared.

  The world snapped back into clarity as he skidded to a stop. The world had to keep up with Benjera when really his senses failed to keep up with the fluid speed of his skills. He trusted the architecture of those skills to pull him through the motions he needed. Benjera finished the third with a forward drive of the hilt straight through the eye.

  [Quest: Slayer — 0/24 >>> 3/24]

  Benjera stood still, chest rising and falling as the forest noise rushed back in around him. Frogs chirped in the distance. Insects buzzed in overlapping layers, one bumbling past his ear.

  He pulled his sword free from the wolf’s skull. Blood smeared along the metal. He wiped it clean with a cloth and sheathed the blade with ritual care. His gaze lingered on the fallen body near him a moment longer than necessary. He did pity them. Hopefully the rest would learn to stay farther from the city now. He respected their intelligence, even admired it.

  No one else understood them.

  Maybe that was why he liked them.