Peter found himself busy once more. He was apparently a celebrity. Everyone wanted to be a druid these days. But Matthias had given him a grave warning about how the system was beginning to fray—the system that granted classes was not as strong as it once had been. So Peter was guiding the new acolytes through breathing exercises to help them begin cultivating.

  The vital energies of the area were ideal for cultivation, and the flexibility of the art was attractive to many. But not everyone wanted to cultivate, so Peter handed those individuals off to Cooper, his previous druidic teacher. Matthias had only confided in Peter, and he saw no reason to share his stress with Cooper.

  Peter nibbled on jerky as he watched the acolytes before him slowly take their first steps in cultivation—compressing mana within their bodies, growing that seed of mana like a tree, adding ring upon ring. The more he thought about it, the more he regretted not pursuing cultivation himself. He could feel them all form a near-instant connection with the land as they cultivated. It was almost enough to make the archdruid jealous.

  “I can already feel your connections to the land forming,” Peter called out as he eased himself into a chair. “But the path forward is up to you. Will you steal and do anything you see as necessary to reach greater heights? Or will you cultivate a relationship with this new bond you have formed? Will you be scavengers, tenders, prey, predator, or maybe something else?

  “You see, every path is unique. Every idea and concept is broad enough that a truth within that concept can still be personal. As you grow, how you define yourself might change. But what will not change is where your journey began. Meditate on these things. The dungeon has told me that cultivation is not just about raw power, but about self-discovery. Power is just the foundation. The question is, what will you build on that foundation?”

  Peter gave a soft smile as he saw that most of the class seemed to take his words to heart. He also saw a few with harder eyes—people who would not be moved by words no matter how hard you tried. It was not Peter’s place to judge or filter them at this time. He simply nodded and dismissed the class as he contemplated what he should have for dinner.

  That was when a root rose from the ground and formed a table before him. Matthias walked up and created a padded bench before sitting across from Peter.

  “Meal for your thoughts?” Matthias asked as he began to materialize food for them to share.

  “You don’t need to bribe me,” Peter chuckled as he pulled out a plate and began filling it with dumplings. They were a familiar dish, but he could never get enough of them. Every time he ate them, their flavor profile was different. Judging by the weight, he mused that these probably had broth in them as well. He added a few more odds and ends to his plate as he organized his thoughts.

  “Why are you so kind to us?” Peter asked. “Your monsters are terrifying. Your might is plain to see. Yet you permit us to eat and thrive off your bounty.”

  “Every time you harvest something, I get mana,” Matthias answered. “Given time, I get more mana for letting you live off the land than I would from killing you. I even get mana every time a new life is born. I get mana from the interactions of the living, and I prefer it that way.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Your denizens seem to be at war constantly, though,” Peter noted before popping a dumpling into his mouth. He moaned as he was proven right and rich broth spilled out.

  “It is just another form of pressure,” Matthias explained after swallowing a bite of steak. “Adaptation does not happen without reason. Pressure is needed to cause change. Too much pressure and everything dies before change can happen. Too little and the change is too small. Competition is a level of pressure that facilitates the kind of growth I have come to foster.”

  “What will happen to those of us with classes when the system fails?” Peter asked.

  “I will catch you,” Matthias promised. “Those who are here, I will catch. I can help you begin to cultivate if that is what you want. But I honestly don’t know what will happen.”

  “Then explain how the system empowers us through leveling,” Peter said.

  “It is like a mantle,” Matthias tried. “It does not really edit you. It edits the mantle.”

  “So it is like a suit of armor,” Peter offered. “Something to be worn. That would posit that it will simply melt away as the system erodes.”

  “It very well could,” Matthias agreed. He began to dig into a bowl of noodles.

  “I will put my trust in you,” Peter decided. “You have done right by me. You spared my life when I was foolhardy and eager. You fed me when I was idle. You saved me from the weight of my own skill when the Demon King arrived.”

  Matthias gave him a kind smile. “I did not do those things to engender debt,” he assured him. “I am not some demon or tax collector.”

  “So there is something other than death and taxes that is constant in life?” Peter teased.

  “If I had to put a finger on it, I would call it narrative,” Matthias mused. “Every life has a story to tell. It may not be the most interesting or heroic tale, but it is still a deeply personal story.”

  “I like that,” Peter confessed. “The idea that our world is made of stories layered upon each other—that for every story you know, there are uncountable stories you don’t. That death is not a punishment, but simply the final page of the book.”

  “As Xalt has proven, sometimes death is not the end,” Matthias pointed out before grabbing some apple juice to wet his lips.

  “Ah,” Peter admitted. “I forgot about that. Necromancers of his caliber are rare.”

  “And why is that?” Matthias asked.

  “Because many of them have the misguided idea that he will welcome them as kin,” Peter replied with a sigh. “That, or they try to sell their services to a ruler who does not want to create a second Xalt.”

  “I wish I knew the full history of this world,” Matthias sighed. “I only get bits and pieces. Heck, even just a timeline about how long this has all been going on would help.”

  Peter nodded. “Before now, being a druid was a rare thing. We can commune with the land, but the barrens never answer. If we take your lush bounty as how the world should be, then that posits that the rest of the world is scar tissue.”

  Matthias grimaced. “If we think of it like that, then time does not matter,” he noted, pain flashing in his eyes.

  “And that is how I know I can trust you,” Peter interrupted with a grin.

  “Huh?” Matthias responded intelligently as he blinked owlishly.

  “You feel responsible for things far beyond what should be the mandate of your power,” Peter explained. “You were turned into a dungeon core—made a demigod of your territory—and your first thought was not how to cement your authority. It was how to heal this broken world. It is not about how to extract your pound of flesh. Your concern seems to be fixing systems and creating narrative.”

  “What is the point of ruling a graveyard?” Matthias asked. “I can’t help everyone. I can’t solve everything. But I can do things better. I can create systems—systems that let people rise until they are comfortable. Those who seek to climb can. Those who seek to stagnate can. I favor neither. Both are constants. My only job is to not fear the potential of others—to realize that a diverse ecosystem is healthier and grows faster than one that is dominated and choked by a single entity.”

  They fell into silence at that, both digesting those words as they finished their meal.