In a magical world run by a system that was able to abstract power into concrete concepts it should be little surprise that there is such a thing as the tyranny of tier.

  Otherwise what would be the point?

  Oz was aware that some people enjoyed stories where underpowered whelps got perfect classes, or magical boons to aid them, and were able to struggle against the odds and strike up at the powers looming above. And yes, while a single tier of difference is rather like a child trying to take on an adult, it is possible but mostly reliant on an unprepared adult and a prepared psychopathic child. Two tiers of difference and it was closer to a battle between a hardened military veteran and the kind of toddler people run fundraisers for.

  Oz had already got a taste of this when fighting Angie. Between the protection offered by [Hoodlum], his greater Physique and Durability, it all meant that a fight which a week ago would've been a legitimate threat to his life left him with nothing but bruises. In his mind the risk of accidental exhibitionism was far greater a threat.

  Still, that gulf in power was nothing compared to how casually Venna dealt with the werewolf. She barely even blinked. In fact she spent more time examining the rabbit ears that remained as part of the transformation than she did combating the opponent. That and arguing with Lilly.

  "There's no need to be so rough. Just let me get to her, I have a skill for this." Lilly pushed past and started to cast something.

  "I have to hold her, if she hits me with full force she'll do herself a mischief."

  "Snarl!" Angie hung off the ground, her body constrained as if by an invisible straitjacket. Thankfully this time her clothes had survived the transformation, the once baggy clothes now stretched over her enlarged form.

  "I know, dear, I'm very sorry this has happened to you. Let me help."

  A minute later, after Oz had hastily retreated to a corner so as to be nowhere near any potential wardrobe malfunctions, the snarls shifted to a familiar voice stuttering out an apology.

  "I'm so sorry."

  "Why are you sorry, that was awesome, your wolf form is incredibly well formed. Well, apart from the ears, but that, I don't think that's an issue." Venna comforted the girl warmly. "You must be a terror in combat."

  "Please ignore the battle monkey. Take some deep breaths, it's all okay, you didn't hurt anyone. She held you in place with telekinesis, and I used a [Status Purge] skill on you. No one saw anything either." Lilly’s voice was far more soothing.

  "I just didn't expect to meet you. I'm sorry, I just—you’re such an inspiration. I read everything about your path through the ranks, and I’ve studied the Colossi’s dungeoneering, it’s fascinating even if much of it’s restricted knowledge." Angie’s words came tumbling out at Venna, who nodded politely in response. Oz had known about people being star-struck, though usually it didn't threaten concussions. Angie seemed at once both terrified and ecstatic to be in Venna's presence.

  "Well I am amazing," Venna replied with a grin. "What about you though, Scholar at Noxarcer!"

  "Angie, is it alright if I call you Angie?" Lilly asked. "Can you tell me more about what happened?"

  Angie did, diving into the same explanation about her condition Oz had already heard. When it came to mentioning the false Professor Rathbone, and how he'd intercepted her before her classing, both women's expressions shifted. Venna's tusks showed, her brows knitting in anger.

  Lilly's face was worse, her ears pointed forward, locking onto the word like it was prey, her lips went thin and her eyes, normally warm and calm, turned cold and imperious.

  Oz shivered. On a personal level he knew that Venna was the more dangerous of the two, but he'd seen what happened when you annoyed a healer by messing with their patients. It rarely ended well.

  "He dares? He let you walk around with this hanging over you?" Lily seethed.

  "No, it's not normally that bad, it's just earlier today." She blushed, her normally unending flow of words faltering to a spluttering stop. The Other kicked him, pointing out she probably didn't want to admit that she'd brained herself in front of strangers, let alone someone she admired.

  "Chops scared her earlier today and triggered the transformation, which means it's on a bit of a hair trigger. That's what she told me," Oz explained, stumbling a bit over his words.

  The look of relief and gratitude Angie flashed him made him feel a little guilty. He’d been guided by the Other's silver tongue. He'd never have been socially aware enough to have noticed how uncomfortable she was before, nor how to help her explain it in a way that didn't say 'I concussed myself into an assault and nudity.'

  Angie smiled at him and continued to explain a bit to Lily. Oz grumbled to himself, maybe he should listen to the Archancellor’s advice and come up with a different name for the Other, if it was going to be useful and not just a horndog. It had even stopped looking at her ears.

  Nope, it was just distracted by Lilly’s tail. Oz stared at the ceiling.

  "Professor Oxley said he’d meet me at the classing room to get it sorted tomorrow. He was going to check with the healer, which I assume is you, about the situation."

  "Angie, if you don't mind, why don't we have a little talk in your room, I'd like to help. Venna, why don’t you go speak with Oz."

  "Are you certain I can’t just flatten the Board for you?" Venna growled.

  "Don’t offer such things when I’m in this mood. Now get." Lilly waved them off, and both pairs shuffled off to their respective rooms.

  In the plain dorm room, Oz sat on the bed, Venna had grabbed the seat at the desk. Chops lay on the floor between them. The silence filled the drab little room as both waited for the other to speak. Eventually despite his general Ozness Oz ended up croaking out something.

  "Alright, I’ll go first, are you really the Colossi's Keeper?"

  "You seem less grovelly than most people when they find that out." Venna leant back in the chair.

  "I've never been one to grovel. Look, there's so much going on, people poisoning me, the voice in my head, murder gauntlets, soul damage, that the mysterious person who sent me birthday cards is a big shot is just another thing to deal with. I already could tell you were powerful given how you spoke with Brackham," Oz explained.

  "That's fair. I kind of didn't want you to know. Thought it might make things awkward for you."

  "I don't know what to expect. Look, my dad didn't talk about the Battle of the Dozen often, but I know he was protecting a hospital. And he dropped enough hints, and my brain isn't so full of rocks that I didn't get that you, or 'V' rather, was someone he'd protected there. Now I get you’re some incredible Keeper, but I need you to understand, up until last week the most powerful Keeper I knew was a bloke named Barry who I once wheeled back to his dungeon in a barrow."

  "You know what the Colossi is though."

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  Oz nodded. Even with Greywater's remote location he'd heard of the Colossi, one of the handful of S-grade dungeons that the Republic had cultivated. Valued for having the rare ability to be mobile, the vast construct wandering across the different realms and enticing only the most valuable delvers. That was what he heard when it wasn't involved in some scandal. Memories of his dad defending it surged up, he’d always rant that people were out to bring the Colossi down.

  That was back when the aetherwave box still caught the crackling signals before it conked out. When his dad wasn’t always in the 'Grimhold'.

  "Dad used to talk the Keeper up, said you'd come from nowhere. Common muck like me who’d risen to the highest heights. Whenever the news was clutching its pearls about something you'd done he’d always say that the dynasties just didn't like you."

  "Oh they hate me, but I definitely do get in a lot of trouble on my own. People tend to pick fights, and then get all bent out of shape when I retaliate. And I mean that literally. They don’t appreciate how hard it is to bend them rather than obliterate."

  "I get that, people picked fights with me all the time and then seemed shocked that I kicked the piss out of them."

  "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I paid someone to watch over you. I only found out when your dad passed that the bastard had been writing whatever nonsense he thought would keep me away."

  "Who was it?"

  "Dwarf named Merl."

  "That drunk?"

  "He wasn't drunk when I employed him." She sighed.

  "That must've been a long time ago."

  "Before your mum went on the expedition." Venna’s face pinched. Oz paused. He wanted to ask questions but wasn’t sure he wanted the answers. It made him angry, and that seeped out into his words.

  "So what now, we chat and I tell you how fucking awful it's been? You become some kind of mentor or something? I’ll tell you straight, I'm not really in the mood. We’re talking because Dad trusted you and I ain't got a lot of options."

  "By the Rifts, no, I'm a terrible teacher. Aldo would slap me if I tried." She waved her hands.

  "Alright then, so what now? I appreciate the not being dead, and even with the Gauntlet this beats the grit out of being in Greywater."

  "If you'll allow it, I'll be your patron here. I'll keep an eye on you as I promised I would. Well, actually you can't stop me doing that. But I can give you some advice, and it comes with a few bonuses."

  "Like what? I'm not taking handouts."

  "Well I don't need to spoil you, not when you've got a lot coming to your situation that should've always been with you. I had some people look into your situation and it seems you weren't getting the money you should've from your mum’s pension. I fixed that, it’s already in your account."

  "We've been chasing that for years, how'd you get it done in an afternoon!" Oz jumped up. Countless letters, requests, and he’d even had to chat with the taxmen, and nothing had ever changed.

  "Well, they say the wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly. I, however, can apply a near unlimited amount of torque, and I don’t mind if I shred their gears to get things to turn at my speed. The money is in your account and I promise it's just what you’re due."

  "I think I can tell why my mum didn't want us to talk." Oz couldn't help but grin.

  "It also brings me on to my next question. This is connected to your poisoning and general situation. See, when I was threate—politely asking for this clerical error to be resolved, the pencil pushers mentioned they’d not received any communication from you or your father, not for over five years."

  "That’s a barefaced lie. I sent—" Oz paused. He wasn’t a paranoid person. His father was though, and for years he’d muttered suspiciously about the postman watching him.

  "Now, a few messages getting lost, possible. The fact that nothing reached the veteran’s offices, even if it was ignored, is pushing credibility."

  "You think this was deliberate?"

  "I think someone isolated the pair of you. Your father had ways to contact me through a proxy yet I never heard anything. The goverment post wasn't getting through." Venna hunched over, her fingers interlaced, and her eyes began to glow with an inner light. "I believe someone tried to make you commit suicide, or at least make it believable you would do so."

  "I don’t understand."

  "In your stack of paperwork we found an attribute reading for you." Venna was referring to the complex magical reading output by special tools to note down a person’s attributes, and later the details about their class. Useful for those who couldn’t make sense of their soul space.

  "You mean the first one I did?" Oz frowned at that, he couldn’t imagine that being relevant.

  "I meant your latest one." Venna explained, and Oz tensed. Ice rolled down his spine.

  "I haven’t done another attribute reading though. When I got F1 on my Physique back then everyone kept trying to fight me. My soul space might be a bit hard to understand, but I didn’t need a reading to know what my attributes were. I never took another just in case people used it to pick more fights with me."

  "Well this only adds to the problem. See, the stats on your sheet showed that your Willpower was borderline and your Awareness too low for the rangers. Aldo pointed it out. With his connection to you he could tell what attributes you had when you got your class and he know the reading and reality don't line up." Venna was calm as she spoke, watching him carefully.

  "But why do it, why—" Oz frowned. "They wanted me to look desperate."

  "This is a very sophisticated attempt on your life. It spans years. Can you think of any reason why someone might want you gone but would go this far to avoid attention?"

  "I thought it was the skills, they’re really quite valuable, but they left them on me."

  "What skills?" Venna asked. Oz listed them, and she whistled. "I always knew he’d got some good shit from holding the line, but damn, [Healing Breath]."

  Then she frowned. "This just makes it worse. What could be worth more than that skill? It’d take someone very motivated to not pocket that. They were commited to making it seem like..."

  "It must have something to do with the mountain." Oz paused as Venna frowned. "Wait, you know we own basically the whole mountain."

  "I did not," Venna replied smoothly.

  "It’s not like the land is even worth much, it was part of his veteran’s package and a reward for the battle. All the veterans get a parcel of land, his was just bigger."

  "Anything valuable?"

  "There’s a lot of obsidian, and we rented out some of it to farmers. Not for much, it’s Greywater, there’s lots of land in all directions. All the veterans got their parcel of land, ours was just a whole damn mountain. It’s not like the land is worth much, even selling it wouldn’t get me that much. I don't even know anyone in Greywater who had the money to come at me like that."

  "Not that you can't think of enemies?" Venna chuckled as Oz just sent her a look.

  "Assuming we're not counting tax collectors as people, me and my dad were among the least popular souls in Greywater. I got in a lot of fights."

  "People in Greywater must like hitting brick walls if they're picking fights with you." Venna smiled. Oz felt the conversation steering away from the discussions around the poisoning and leant into it.

  "At the end they'd gang up. Look, it all took a turn for the worse about four years back, that's when Dad's mania started to get bad. Those piss drinkers were always starting shit with me. I just wanted to lay low and get out, but then others started to get strong, and I was the biggest guy around. The town is mostly beastkin, some gnomes and a few elves. I hate fighting gnomes, the half-pints tend to bite."

  "So all the young bucks saw you as the one to clash horns with."

  "Yup, even people in the years above kept starting stuff. Then the teachers thought that it was my fault. I tried to straighten it out, but it took too long, and it wasn't like they were that dangerous to me. My dad had been teaching me tunnel fighting since I was five."

  "Very few can compare to a Grimbrow in that arena, let alone your dad. So, sorted them out did you?" Venna smiled at him, and despite the sombre discussion Oz felt a burst of pride. For once someone wasn't giving him grief over doing some necessary skull cracking.

  "Realised it was just faster to paste 'em. Cut back on the amount of fights as well. Still, it got to a point that I think the counsellor just started reading a script and swapping out the name of who I'd pummelled."

  "Not a single teacher stepped up?" Venna's eyes burned. Oz didn't notice, too lost in his memories.

  "A few. Mr Goddley, Mrs Pinwhizz, and Coach Renta. They couldn't do much, but they made sure I got all my exams and tests sorted so I could bounce. They got it, knew I just wanted out." In a distant realm three educators shivered as an apocalyptic shadow passed over them.

  "Now you're out, what do you want to do?"

  "Apart from not go back? I'm going to give this whole schoo—academy thing a go, might as well." Oz shrugged catching the correction at the last moment. There were, of course, a thousand and one other thoughts that bubbled in his brain, but they didn't matter. He wasn't thinking about them today.

  There was a little chime from a device at her hip, and Oz watched as she pulled out a small timepiece and glared at it.

  "Sorry, Oz. This chat is important, but I also need to go arrange for a very quiet and equally dangerous group of people to visit your town."

  "Yeah, no worries." Oz lied. He basically just a bundle of worries in a beard at this point. He just didn't want to think about them.

  "We've got half an hour or so before anyone comes and drags me off. If you like, I could give you some advice on where to put your essence. I do have some suggestions for training, more the mental stuff because Rifts know I hated that back when I was your age, and it's not like you need any help in that department. Or we could talk skill plans and explore your class."

  "I’d rather—" Oz paused and took a shaky breath. "Could we talk about how you knew my dad, he didn't talk much about back then."

  "Sure," Venna grinned. "When I first met Urstal it was to awarding him a CCC, oh, that’s a 'Creative Carnage Commendation' to you. See, back then at the height of the war against the Horde we weren’t trying to be fair like we are with the mortals. And your dad, well, he embraced that. The first time I gave him a CCC was for this trap he’d invented that combined your usual spike trap and the magic of compressed air. I started to notice him more when he won his second and third CCC."