Their days settled into a steady, almost ritualistic rhythm: train at dawn, hunt by noon, patch wounds by night.

  Barrett grew sharper by the hour. His swings gained purpose, his footwork tightened, and the wild instinct in him began merging with real technique. Each session pushed his limits a little further, and as his skill training improved, he could trigger his abilities more often and with far less drain.

  Maku changed, too. His casting went from clumsy bursts to precise, devastating strikes. Mana missiles landed with the accuracy of guided artillery, and thanks to Barrett’s balance drills, he no longer left himself wide open after firing. He moved lighter, struck faster, and recovered in a better position for the next attack.

  By the beginning of the third week, the forest around their camp had gone eerily quiet. Goblin corpses marked the paths like grim milestones, evidence of the territory they carved out day after day and a warning to anyone foolish enough to come too close.

  This was Team Donovan territory…and Maku.

  The training had reached a fever pitch. Muscles ached, weapons sang, and every silent look carried the same unspoken truth.

  The fight they’d been preparing for was coming.

  Soon.

  —

  One morning, they pushed deeper into the hills, closer to the captain’s lair. A new hunting ground.

  They moved quietly until the clearing opened ahead. Five goblins stood there, bickering around a crude firepit.

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 7]

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 8]

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 6]

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 7]

  [Goblin Warrior — Level 7]

  Maku stepped forward into the open.

  “You’re in the way,” he said calmly.

  The goblins hissed and raised their weapons.

  Blue light bloomed in his palm. Three mana missiles spun into being and launched with a crack, slamming through two goblins like bolts of light.

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 6]

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 7]

  Barrett strolled into the clearing with his machete slung across his shoulder, back turned to the monsters.

  “I’ve spent too long living in darkness to fear it,” he said in a low, dramatic voice.

  He turned, a familiar smirk flashing under his shades. “Watch closely; I’m only doing this once.”

  He crouched low and dashed forward, dropped into a slide and triggering [Blood Rush] at the last possible second. Veins glowed faintly gold as power coursed through him. He swept his blade through the legs of two goblins in a single roar.

  Maku raised his hand. “I…am…justice!”

  His circling missiles dove, striking both legless goblins before they could scream.

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 7]

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 7]

  Only one remained, trembling.

  Barrett’s grin widened, and he knelt into a stance, gripping his machete. “Now…let me show you the depths of true despair.”

  “Maku—now!”

  A glowing mana platform formed mid-air. Barrett vaulted onto it, launching himself high above the clearing. His shadow passed across the goblin’s terrified face before he came crashing down, machete first.

  [You have slain Goblin Warrior — Level 8]

  He stood over the corpse, blade dripping. “Stay where you belong,” he said, wiping the edge clean. “In my memories.”

  He stared dramatically into the horizon.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “And cut…” Maku called from behind him, fighting a laugh.

  —

  They headed back toward base in high spirits, replaying the fight like sports commentators who’d inhaled too much adrenaline.

  “That line about the memories?” Maku said, shaking his head in admiration. “Gold.”

  Barrett chuckled. “Thanks. That ‘You’re in the way’ thing was ice cold.”

  Maku mimicked him dramatically: “Let me show you the depths of true despair!”

  Barrett laughed until he wheezed. “Badass, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can’t wait till we stroll into camp dropping lines like that. Fred and his clowns will piss themselves.”

  Maku grinned. “They’re gonna crap bricks, man.”

  Chirp!

  Barrett froze. For an instant, his vision flickered; he saw through Grimm’s eyes: dark shapes shifting in the trees. Then, gone.

  “You see that?” Barrett asked quietly.

  Maku looked around. “Nothing.”

  Barrett’s jaw tightened. “Yeah…thought so.”

  He slung his machete back over his shoulder. “Anyway—yeah, Fred’s gonna lose it.”

  “Totally,” Maku said, though his tone had softened.

  —Ida “Granny”—

  “Ow!” the man yelped. “Can you stop poking at it and just heal me already?”

  “Sorry,” Ida said gently. “My healing works better when I understand the injury’s depth.”

  In truth, she was exhausted. She’d been healing people nonstop since dawn, and lately the wounds were piling up faster than she could keep up. This man’s gash ran deep across his side. It was nasty enough that it would drain more mana than she liked.

  “You all seem to be getting injured more than usual,” she murmured, inspecting the wound. “Wandering into dangerous areas?”

  The man snorted. “Tell me about it. Fred and that witch Rei have been working us to the bone.”

  Ida’s brow lifted. “And why is that?”

  He stiffened. “Not supposed to say. And you,” he glanced at her sharply, “shouldn’t be asking.”

  Ida didn’t look up from her work. “Does it have anything to do with gems, perhaps?”

  Silence.

  She finally looked up and met a hard, hateful stare.

  “I said drop it,” he muttered.

  —

  When he finally limped out, Ida slumped back, arms heavy. She thought of her old life, her boring desk job, her quiet retirement. She chuckled under her breath at the irony of it all.

  Transported to a fantasy world, only to be treated as an even more overworked cog than before.

  “What’s so funny, Granny?”

  She looked up.

  Pippy and Arthur stepped into her makeshift tent, their arms full of poultice ingredients she’d requested. She’d recently learned about how this [system] allowed crafting of various kinds and how she could ‘level’ it, just like skills. She’d been sending the younger ones out to hunt for the ingredients since she was too busy healing Fred’s goons.

  “Oh, nothing,” Ida said, smiling as she examined their haul.

  Pippy frowned softly, noticing the exhaustion etched across Ida’s face.

  “I’m fine, dear. Don’t you worry.” Ida waved her off. “Where’s Lance, by the way?”

  The two kids shared a nervous glance.

  Arthur scratched his cheek. “He’s, uh…we don’t really know. He’s been kinda moody lately. Ever since…” His voice trailed off as he stared at the ground.

  “Ah,” Ida nodded gently.

  Pippy looked up. She looked older than she had weeks ago. Still freckled, still bright, but somehow steadier and less na?ve. Perhaps some of those “mindset books” she quoted constantly were starting to sink.

  Experience will do that, Ida thought.

  “Why do you think Mister Donovan didn’t tell us?” Pippy asked quietly.

  Ida hesitated. She had wondered the same thing. But one thing she was certain of—Barrett wasn’t cruel or conniving. Whatever he was, whatever mistakes he made, she knew the man’s core was good. Better than even he believed himself to be.

  “No idea,” she finally said. “But I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  Arthur nodded fiercely, as if clinging to a rope in a storm. “I still believe in Coach. He’s alive. I know he is.” His voice dropped, more to himself than to them.

  Pippy smiled at him softly. “That’s right, Arthur. Hope is like a muscle. You only lose it if you stop using it.” His eyes watered as she added, “Be like Coach. Don’t stop flexing.”

  She struck a mock-flexing pose, grinning.

  Then she glanced at Ida, and her expression softened, betraying her own fear.

  “I miss him, Granny,” she whispered.

  Ida’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I miss his thick biceps.”

  Arthur’s face turned beet-red.

  “Granny!” Pippy yelped.

  Ida just winked.

  —Barrett—

  By dusk, they were exhausted and coated in dirt. They headed to the river, stripping down as the last sunlight turned the water copper.

  “You think we’ll get new skills at level ten?” Barrett asked, wading in.

  “Hopefully,” Maku replied, splashing cold water on his face. “This grind’s brutal.”

  “Tell me about it.” Barrett groaned as he sank waist-deep.

  Grimm hopped in after them, paddling happily. He’d grown. His feathers were sleeker now, and his wings were fluttering stronger each day.

  Barrett glanced at Maku. The guy’s build had hardened. He was lean, muscles cut tight under the skin.

  “You keep staring like I’m a piece of meat,” Maku said.

  Barrett grinned. “Just admiring the progress. You’ve got a solid core coming in. Shoulders too.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” Maku said, awkwardly. “What’s that gill-looking thing on your ribs? Been trying to get that one forever.”

  Barrett chuckled. “Serratus. Earned through a holy pilgrimage to the iron temple.”

  Maku snorted. “I tried lifting once. My mom found my creatine and thought it was steroids. Called the cops.”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “Moms,” Barrett said fondly. “I love moms.”

  Maku splashed him.

  “Hey!” Barrett barked.

  “You wanna start something? It’s on!”

  Barrett scooped water and rapid-fired a barrage. “Water machine-gun cannon blast!”

  “Bro, stop!” Maku laughed, shielding his face. Then he dropped into a stance, eyes narrowed. “Alright. My turn.”

  “Bring it.”

  “Water Tsunami Typhoon Mega Wave!” He spun, sending a crashing sheet of water into Barrett’s chest.

  Barrett staggered back, laughing. “Not the Water Tsunami Mega Wave!”

  Grimm chirped madly, fluttering between them as they splashed and shouted like kids in summer.

  Chirp chirp!

  The tone changed. Urgent.

  Footsteps crunched through the brush.

  A shadow moved along the bank, then another.

  A gruff voice cut through the night.

  “Well, well, well…what do we have here, boys?”

  Barrett and Maku froze, hearts spiking.

  The laughter died on their lips.

  Barrett reached for his machete. Maku’s spear materialized in his hand with a hiss of blue light.

  The river, moments ago alive with laughter, fell dead silent except for the slow drip of water off their skin.