I’m disoriented, honestly, Jacob thinks as, after yet another expensive meal, he and Lancelot walk toward the pier. Princess Naar’ethra alleges that Zibrek has the wrong Class. Zibrek still hasn’t progressed to Platinum Rank, which means there could be adjustments… but what kind? I have no idea what Skills she has other than the ones related to Engineering. And what about Boomgar? He’s very transparent about his love for explosives. But… that’s about as much as I know about his inclinations. I’ve asked him directly if he thinks I could help him out with anything, but he was as helpless as one could be. We have zero ideas here and I’m not sure what can be done. I’ve checked the Skills they’ve used with the Grimoire, but I keep not getting anything at all. Perhaps—

  “Lancelot, could you chew with your mouth closed?” Jacob asks, groaning after being once again distracted by the loud ruminating of his Squire.

  “It helps me digest if I eat like this,” Lancelot says, nodding wisely.

  “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. And, by the way, can you activate that form again after eating this much?”

  Lancelot grimaces, “I don’t think so, Boss. It requires a lot of energy.”

  Lancelot’s Draconic Form stores energy in form of fat when he turns into a giant Dragonkin. But he runs out of it very quickly because there’s a very low efficiency. Another but, though: we can’t help him level it up before he can use it again. He must be in his Draconic Form for me to guide him with the Grimoire.

  “You look worried, Boss,” Lancelot says.

  “Lots on my mind, Lancelot,” Jacob scratches his head. “Not sure how all of this will pan out.”

  “You’re lucky, Boss. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “You know what? Fair. Let’s get going. One problem at the time.”

  “Can you tell me now who do you think is going to betray you?”

  “Again? I made that up.”

  “You definitely didn’t,” Lancelot scoffs. “Come on, who is it?”

  “I mean it,” Jacob turns to stare seriously at Lancelot. “I’m just throwing stuff at the wall and trying to see what sticks. I’m not sure what Iskara, for example, is going to do. All the Infernal movements, suspicious. But… who knows.”

  “So, what about the Sacrifice guy?”

  “No idea,” Jacob shrugs.

  “But why did you go there?”

  “Trying to mess with him,” Jacob says, looking at the cloudy sky with only a few blades of sunlight piercing the grayness.

  “Why?”

  “Again, I’m not sure I’m right about anything, Lancelot. I’m just… sowing.”

  “Boss, those who so wind…”

  “Get a nice tailwind,” Jacob interrupts him.

  “I don’t think that’s the saying,” Lancelot scrunches his brow. “I thought it was—”

  “Wait, is that a free buffet?”

  “Where?!” Lancelot stops in his tracks and turns around and Jacob jogs forward, leaving him behind.

  * * *

  Zibrek and Boomgar are both quite nervous even though they’re trying their best to not show it.

  “How do you think we’re going to do this, lass?” Boomgar sighs, trying to hide his nerves. He keeps his eyes on the water instead of her.

  Zibrek folds her arms and watches the waves hit the pylons.

  “Do what, exactly.”

  “Whatever it is that Jacob has in mind,” Boomgar says.

  “I’m sure that standing still won’t fix anything, anyway,” she says.

  Boomgar glances at her, then looks away again.

  “Aye. That’s fair.”

  There’s a pause, and the sound of the sea fills it without hurry.

  “You fought a gunslinger,” Boomgar says at last. “He any good?”

  “Yes,” she answers immediately, and then her jaw tightens. “Annoyingly so.”

  Boomgar grunts.

  “That bad, eh.”

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  “What about yours? I haven’t heard much,” Zibrek replies.

  “One of your kind,” Boomgar shrugs.

  “Really? Mine was a Dwarf.”

  “Fun how things worked out… I guess it makes sense,” Boomgar comments.

  “The Dwarf seeks out the Goblin, the Goblin seeks out the Dwarf,” Zibrek echoes the sentiment.

  Zibrek studies his face for a moment.

  “You’re not angry.”

  “Yeah, not an angry man,” Boomgar says, stroking his thick beard. “It’s a nightmare that becomes reality—losing my spot. In a way, now that I lost it, it feels almost reassuring.”

  “Reassuring?” Zibrek tightens her fists. “What are you even talking about? You don’t want to kill the bastard who took your title?”

  “I don’t feel great about it,” Boomgar confesses. “But before Jacob’s speech, lass, I did think about just going on with my life. Not everyone needs to be Champions.”

  Zibrek looks at Boomgar, not able to comprehend what he’s saying.

  “I could never be anything else,” she says between her teeth. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Aye,” Boomgar isn’t convinced. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but who cares about Champions or not Champions. I enjoy blowing things up, lass. That’s about it. I can do that all the same.”

  “Then, why are you here?”

  “Do you ever feel petty?” Boomgar asks out of the blue.

  “What?”

  “Petty. Do you ever feel petty?”

  “No?”

  “Bad sign, lass,” Boomgar tells Zibrek. “Lots of pettiness going around the Academy. Everyone can be a bit too much into the ideas they have of themselves and become petty.”

  “Boomgar,” Zibrek’s tone grows irritated, “speak your damn mind.”

  “Jacob made me feel petty,” Boomgar confesses. “He made me feel like a kid who’s not aware of his surroundings—someone who never wants to take responsibility.”

  “I swear, I don’t understand one word that you’re saying, Boomgar.”

  “Aye,” Boomgar sighs. “Goblins—very literal creature. Us Dwarves, we are a bit cryptic. Anyway, that’s the lad.”

  The both raise their eyes to see Jacob shortly followed by his newly-thinned-out Squire.

  Jacob slows his pace when he notices them by the pier, and his steps lose the careless rhythm he had a moment earlier. Lancelot follows, still chewing, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand when he realizes he is not alone.

  “Boss,” Lancelot says, lowering his voice with effort, “they look very serious.”

  “I noticed,” Jacob replies.

  Jacob knows that what Zibrek and Boomgar are going through is not easy to weather. Losing the title of Champion would definitely impact him a lot. And he started from nothing. If he went back to nothing, not much would have changed for him. In fact, he already has a better life than he could have ever imagined a few years ago. Yet, the Dwarf and the Goblin in front of him come from good families, from people with money, or power, or both.

  At the very least, they don’t come from nothing.

  Before Jacob can say anything else, something appears on the pier.

  A tall construct standing a few steps away from them.

  “You have been blessed with the chance to take Master Rafnov’s Second Trial,” the golem says. “That fulfills the requirement.”

  Boomgar squints at it. “You always talk like that, or is today special.”

  The golem turns its head slightly toward him.

  “Boomgar Blackpowder. Your commentary is unnecessary,” it says. “Now, the Trial is a competition.”

  “I’m not going to compete with my friends,” Jacob rebuts.

  “You are not.”

  The Mithril Golem then snaps his fingers and one person materializes, opposite to the trio of Champion and former Champions.

  “Filr’etk Blackbounty,” the Mithril Golem says, with a red skinned Goblin appearing. “Newly-crowned Champion, metallomancer.”

  Boomgar narrows his eyes.

  “Hello, dirty little Dwarf,” Filr’etk says to Boomgar. “I hope you’re ready for another loss. I couldn’t believe that I was awarded a chance to humiliate the former Champion again.” Then, the Goblin turns toward Zibrek, “greenskin, and a great warrior. I bow to you.”

  “Redskin,” Zibrek says. “Do not insult my friend.”

  “Your friend?” Filr’etk looks disgusted. “I take back my greeting. A Goblin like you, a former Champion, mingling with this dirty Dwarf?”

  “Oh,” Jacob says. “I see where this is going.”

  The Mithril Golem looks at Jacob again and then snaps his fingers.

  “Narfikara Warmfinger,” the Mithril Golem says and a Dwarven woman with a round face appears and looks around, giggling.

  “Look at that—neat Spell. So…” She turns toward Zibrek. “This is going to be a pleasure.”

  “Not for me,” Filr’etk says, looking disgusted at the Dwarven woman. “Stay away from me while I humiliate your kin. I don’t need your dirty hands anywhere close to me.”

  Thankfully, they’re idiots, Jacob thinks. This is going to be pretty smooth. Cooperation is going to be important in this Trial, I suppose.

  “This is a Trial based on pure Skill. Each individual will have to carry himself over the end of it without any material help from the others.”

  “Well,” Jacob flinches. “Still doable. And only two of them? I get that they might related to forging and whatnot, but is this it?”

  The Mithril Golem looks at Jacob with a sly smile.

  “I don’t like when undeserving fools stumble upon my master’s legacy,” the Mithril Golem says, and then snaps his fingers again.

  Yet, the terrifying creature doesn’t see the despair he expected on Jacob’s face when the third and most dangerous person of the people he handpicked appears.

  “Hey, long time no see,” Jacob smiles widely and one could almost see little stars in his eyes. “How have you been?”

  A beautiful girl with sparkling blue eyes, dark hair, and a solemn shaped jawline looks at Jacob with coldness. She has a pin that keeps her hair in a bun that has been sculpted into a series of lamenting skulls.

  “Do not greet me like we’re friends, Jacob Cloud,” she says. “I’m your worst enemy.”

  “You look very good today, you know? I love the pin.”

  Boomgar leans toward Zibrek, cupping a hand to her ear, “is he flirting with the Leader of the Dark Champions?”

  “I think so,” Zibrek frowns.

  “Now, for the Trial,” the Mithril Golem says, not happy that his plan to instill fear in Jacob hasn’t worked. “Let me explain the rules. But first, I’ll bring you to its location.”

  With the next snap of his fingers, they all disappear.