The Last Experience Point

Chapter 11: The God Slayers Guild

Voices. There were voices. Whose voices? Zach didn’t know. Actually, he didn’t know much of anything, really. Like…where was he? Had he died? Was Kalana okay? All of these questions popped up, then repeated with greater intensity in Zach’s mind. He couldn’t see, but he could hear, though it was difficult to make out any words over a loud ringing in his ears that was only first subsiding. He was comfortable: oddly comfortable. And he felt something soft touching the sides of his face in a way that could almost be described as lovingly. He was so confused. Why couldn’t he see? Where was he? What day was it? What was the last thing he could remember? He moaned, none of it making any sense to him.

“He’s waking up,” said a girl’s voice. It was Kalana. It came from above and slightly behind him. Why couldn’t he see her?

Because my eyes are closed, duh, he realized groggily.

His lids slowly opened, though it actually required effort. Then he shut them immediately as his eyes were not yet able to handle the light. What little he saw was also too blurry for him to have any idea of where he was.

“What happened?” he asked. He could hear the fear in his own voice. “Was I in an accident? Where am I?”

“You just passed out for a bit,” said a voice off to his left. It was Mr. Oren, his science teacher. Was he in school? The confusion began to increase in intensity, and with it came a restlessness—an anxious worry that something had gone really wrong and he didn’t quite understand what it was. He was soothed, however, when he felt the same two soft hands rubbing him around his cheeks, even playfully pinching the one on his right. He also realized that he was lying on his back on a hard surface, but his head rested on something much softer—Kalana’s lap.

Wait, his head was in Kalana’s lap? Gods above, it was!

This is the greatest moment of my life, he thought, suddenly becoming far more relaxed as she gave him some kind of weird nose and cheek massage that felt way too good. He smiled and couldn’t even help the content sigh he breathed out as he nearly fell back asleep. I love Kalana.

“Z-Zach,” she said, her voice unusually high-pitched and shocked. “If you’re…if you’re gonna say something like that to me…then…then uh, then…when we’re in private say it, but not…not here. That’s not how I pictured you saying it the first time!”

He gasped. “Did I just say all that out loud?”

“Yah. I’m not mad or anything. I just…you should wait until you have flowers or something, I dunno. Jerk!” She pinched both his cheeks at once. “I’m not gonna let you forget you said it, either.”

For some reason, a pair of voices—no, three sets of voices—that he did not recognize all seemed to break out into laughter at once. Either because of embarrassment, surprise, or sheer coincidence, this seemed to rouse him back into full wakefulness, and for the second time, his eyes popped open, and now he did not close them. All at once, he remembered almost everything that’d happened to him. He also recognized where he was: Kalana’s blood-stained, badly destroyed apartment. He also remembered what’d happened to his father. It was a topic he really didn’t want to think about right now. If not for the realization of what he’d just confessed—before he was even ready—his mind would likely have dwelled on it.

“Oh, Gods,” he spluttered out, sitting up. “I just said all of that out loud.” He groaned. “What…my head is still so foggy.” His vision was blurry, but he was sure that there were more people in here now than there’d been before. “How long have I been out for? Where’s Varsh? Who’s in here with us?”

“Lie back down,” Kalana said. “You’re not supposed to move yet.”

“Why not? And…wait, you mean in your lap again?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, okay,” he said, maybe too eagerly. He was still so out of it that he only realized after speaking how much he was embarrassing himself. But maybe it was better this way. He had now gone so far beyond the point of caring. If not for the fact that he was only first entering into a state where he could say his own name, he would’ve been cringing and blushing himself to death. Yet he was so exhausted that his verbal inhibitions ceased to exist.

“Kalana, I don’t care who hears me,” he said to her, lying back down. “I thought you were going to be taken away forever. I want you to know I like you so gods-damned much. Like more than you even know. I never told you because I didn’t realize how much I…you just don’t understand. And it’s my fault because I—”

“Zach,” she whispered, sounding embarrassed. “My dad’s here…”

“I’m sorry. It’s a bad time. I know. It’s just that I almost died like eight times today, and now that I realize how easy a person can just die out of the blue, I need you to know it just in case something happens. Also, sorry, Mr. Vayra.”

Her father chuckled from somewhere off behind him. Zach couldn’t really tell because he was lying down with his eyes pointed at the ceiling, but also because the blur was still slowly receding from his vision.

Closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath, Zach tried not to tense up apprehensively every time he heard the sound of footsteps from around him. Now that he was more fully awake and alert, he recalled Mr. Oren saying a “few of his guild-mates” were coming along. This must’ve been them. There was nothing to be worried about. Even still, he couldn’t help but try to stand up reflexively whenever he heard the sound of boots walking along the floor. Each time, Kalana would press him back down.

“You’re safe,” Mr. Oren said to him. “Just try not to move.”

“Why?”

“Because your wrist is completely shattered, my man. If you make things any worse, we aren’t going to be able to heal you properly. Not without wasting a million-gold item. To be fair, I’m not a doctor—Kesten here is—and if I’d known the break was so severe I wouldn’t have let you swing that sword.”

“Kesten? Doctor? Gods, I’m so confused. At least tell me something.”

“Everything’s fine, Zach,” Kalana said, giving both his cheeks another pinch. Why the hell did that feel so good? It didn’t even make sense. “That guy from before is gone, and you were only out for about thirty minutes. One of Mr. Oren’s friend’s got amazing healing abilities—and he’s a real doctor on top of that, too.”

“How many people are here with us?”

“There’s you, me, my dad, Mr. Oren, Kesten, Alixa, and Maric.”

Zach nodded—or sort of nodded. It was hard to move his head while it was in her lap. “Okay, I know some of those people.”

Mr. Oren laughed. “They’ll introduce themselves soon enough. Just lie still for now. Kesten is almost finished with His Majesty.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Mr. Vayra said. Then, after a slight pause, he added, “I’m an heir without a kingdom, a prince without a father, and a level-1 construction worker in a rundown apartment who just had his thumb cut off. If anything, for saving my daughter and her boyfriend, you’re the royalty, young man.”

In complete unison, Zach and Kalana both gasped, and it was likely for the same reason. Heat flushed into his cheeks, and he could actually feel Kal shake nervously. Why had her father used that word? That wasn’t just a word you went throwing around. Why was Mr. Oren chuckling? Or his friends, for that matter? These were complete strangers he didn’t even know. Why were they laughing, too? None of this was funny. This was a serious thing that just happened.

“Dad!” Kalana yelled at him. “What’re you even…? Stop!”

“Huh? What’s wrong, bun? It’s true. I’m not royalty. I’m just a tired, aging—”

“Not that,” she grumbled. “The other thing you said.”

“What other thing? Ohh…wait, I see.” Her father sighed, which told Zach he hadn’t even spoken the ‘b-word’ playfully or even realized he’d said anything wrong. Wait, did this mean he actually thought that, all this time, the two of them had been…?

This just became so awkward.

“In my defense, I mean, you two have spent every day together since we moved here. You’re always eating out together and going to the movies. Always sneaking off somewhere or another. Oh, and let’s be honest now…you’re both seventeen. In fact, I was only seventeen when I met your dear mother. So I just thought that—”

“D-dad!”

Zach closed his eyes tightly and tried to will himself to another plane of existence. He couldn’t handle this. Her father wasn’t messing around with them. That was the worst part. He genuinely seemed to have no clue why this was so humiliating. He only seemed to make things worse, too, with each subsequent word.

“I apologize if I embarrassed you, honey. So then, to clarify, Zachys is not your boyfriend. Correct?”

Now Zach gasped. Why in the hell would he ask that question? What if she said yes? No, worse, what if she said no? The idea she might say that sent a tidal wave of fear crashing into him. He didn’t even know he could still be this afraid after his encounter with Varsh.

“That’s…” Kalana stirred uneasily, and she almost knocked him in the side of his head with her knee. “You…” She tapped him on the side of his cheek. “Zach, explain to my dad.”

Why is she putting me on the spot? he thought, stifling a moan.

“Okay, the thing is that…”

As he searched his mind for how to answer the question, he once again remembered how close he had come to death, and how good it had felt to finally just say what he felt regardless of who was around him or how afraid he was of the way things would turn out. His cowardice was a part of him that he had vowed to change. Maybe that counted for more than just being able to defend himself against high-level, homicidal thugs?

“Actually, she is,” he said confidently.

“Okay, so then I said nothing wrong,” her father insisted. “Right?”

It didn’t matter that Zach couldn’t breathe through his nose. Because right now, his mouth couldn’t take in any oxygen either as Kalana’s silence felt like an anchor had been dropped on his chest. For almost ten seconds, she said nothing at all. But then, finally, she replied, “Uh-huh.” Then she chuckled, and with a bit more certainty, she said, “Yeah, I guess not.”

The moment she answered, Zach remembered he’d been holding his breath, and it burst out of him in a whoosh, which soon led to a coughing fit. If not for every bad thing that had happened in a short span of time during the past few hours, Zach would’ve exploded with happiness. Did they just somehow, in front of everyone, in the most embarrassing and uncomfortable way possible, just make something official? Was that what just happened? Was he misreading the situation, or had he just gotten Kalana to be his…so were they now…?

“Alex,” a woman’s voice whispered from across the room. She must’ve been the woman named Alixa. Zach still hadn’t actually been able to see her or the other strangers who Mr. Oren had summoned here. Actually, come to think of it, her name was familiar. Was she the same Alixa Firesbane who had crafted that legendary lab coat that’d saved him from being burned alive?

“Yeah, ‘Lixa?” he replied.

“The kids don’t know, do they?”

“Of course not. We haven’t even discussed it with His Majesty yet.”

“Then why are you letting them…?”

“Because I’m sure Zach will make the cut. I watched him closely today. He can do it. I’m sure of it.”

“You can’t know that. We’re not an entry-level guild.”

“He will make it.”

“Alex…”

“Stop,” he said, his voice impatient. Zach had no idea what they were talking about, but for some reason, it sounded like it was about him and Kalana, and the tone Mr. Oren used was the same tone he’d used to defend Zach after his altercation at school with Pack Dolan.

“I know the soul of an adventurer,” Mr. Oren said. “I’ve never been wrong before. We’ll talk about this in a few minutes. Let’s at least let him have some happiness, Alixa. For the love of the Gods, his father died today. Let him have a few moments of joy.”

Okay, something is wrong here, he thought, a nervous pit forming in his belly. Why are they talking about us like that?

“I want to sit up now, please,” Zach said.

“No,” Mr. Oren said, a note of command in his voice. “Wait patiently for your turn. Kesten is almost done.”

“Actually, I just finished. The prince’s fingers should regrow within a few days. I could do the toe as well, but for a pinky toe, is it really worth a million-gold rejuv stone?”

“You can’t heal it with your abilities?”

“Huh? Dude…they cut it off. Alex, you’re the smartest guy I ever met, but sometimes you—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just help my student, please.”

The sound of approaching footsteps caused Zach to lift his eyes and crane his neck. He could only see a pair of black boots and skinny jeans. Thankfully, he could at least make out these details with perfect visual clarity, which meant the blurriness had finally faded.

“You can probably sit up now,” Kesten said. “In fact…Alex, give me a hand. We’ll sit him down on the couch next to Mr. Vayra.”

“Guys,” Zach said with a laugh. “I can stand up on my own two—”

“No, quiet,” Mr. Oren said, shushing him. He felt hands on his shoulders, and then Kalana pushed him up into a sitting position. At the same time, Mr. Oren grabbed him under his left armpit, while this so-called doctor, Kesten, grabbed him under his right. Then he was hoisted up and dragged like a child over to the green couch, which must have been picked up and properly oriented at some point while he was unconscious.

Now that he was seated and able to actually look around the apartment, he could finally take in his surroundings—specifically, the people Mr. Oren had called his friends. The one closest to him, the one called Kesten, was a guy of average height with shaggy blond hair, dark blue eyes, and both a face and voice that made him look more like the singer of a rock band than a medical doctor.

The bottom-right portion of his lip was pierced with two silver-looking rings. There was also a third above his left eye. He was also really young, too. Zach doubted the guy was more than three or four years older than himself. That was way too young to be a licensed doctor…right? Then again, twenty-four also seemed young to be teaching at a high school, too. Come to think of it, he had a bit in common with Mr. Oren in this regard.

Neither of the two guys dressed the way one would expect from a teacher or a doctor, the only exception being the lab coat that Mr. Oren seemed to wear all day every day. Aside from that one piece of profession-appropriate garb, he typically showed up to school wearing a pair of russet-colored, cat-eye glasses, which along with his tattoo-covered bodybuilder arms and his spiky hair, made him look more like a street brawler than a teacher.

Kesten, as if following in this tradition, was apparently a fully licensed medical doctor, yet he wore a pair of blue skinny jeans, a white, short-sleeve t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He also had a spiked bracelet on each of his wrists, and the spikes looked like they were actually kind of sharp. In a humorous sort of way, Zach realized he had no way of knowing if the bracelets, the leather jacket, or even the guy’s socks were actually just simple pieces of clothing or ungodly powerful equipment.

“Okay try not to move,” Kesten said. “Alex, hold his arm steady—both hands.”

Seated on the couch, Zach grunted nervously as Mr. Oren grabbed his shoulder with one hand and his forearm with the other, then held him in what felt like a vice grip. That was when Zach knew it was going to hurt—and it did.

Kesten placed his palm over his shattered wrist, and then a bright, vibrant green light began to shine from his hand. It was so bright that it actually caused his fingers to cast shadows along the middle of the apartment floor.

“Ah, Gods-damn it,” Zach hissed. He could actually feel his bones moving. The pain, though pretty bad, wasn’t outright agony, but it was throbbing, unending, and the sense of bones moving in his own hand made it also uncomfortable and unpleasant.

“Don’t look at your hand, look at me,” Kesten said. He was definitely someone who would conventionally be considered very attractive. Zach was surprised that, with everything that happened to him today, one of his biggest concerns now was making sure Kalana never looked in his direction. Seriously, if she so much as—

“Whoah, does it hurt that much?” he asked him. “You’re glaring at me.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

“Dude, it’s no problem. My name’s Kesten, by the way, but you probably already know that now. Kesten Ardona.” As he spoke, his brightly-glowing palm moved up and down along Zach’s wrist, close but never actually touching him directly. “I just want to say how…how sorry I am about what happened to your father. Sucks, man.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Zach said. “Guilds are just scum.” Then he remembered that these guys were in a guild, and he croaked, “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean…I offer my apologies if I—”

“No, none necessary,” Mr. Oren said, speaking for Kesten. Zach felt pressure release on his arm as Mr. Oren let him go. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem to think Zach needed to hold as still. Kalana’s father then scooted over on the couch, and Mr. Oren slid a few inches away as if to give him some breathing room. “You don’t actually know what a guild is, so we’re not going to take offense.”

“True,” Kesten said, nodding. The green glow brightened, and then Zach had to bite down as the intensity of pain went from bad but not awful to extremely awful before settling back down to just bad. “That was a tough spot, sorry. That might happen a few more times. It can’t be avoided.”

Zach closed his eyes for a moment and gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to whimper or act like a little girl with Kalana watching. Even still, he wanted to cry out in pain. This hurt terribly. To Mr. Oren, he said, “Can you please tell me what happened now? After I passed out—or better yet, why I passed out? I’m still a bit confused. I know you explained it to me but it’s fuzzy and I can’t remember. And did someone say Varsh is gone?”

Mr. Oren crooked a thumb over his shoulder. “That guy jumped out of the window to get away from me, actually.”

“He’s dead?” Zach asked. The thought of death made him glance over to where Seraphina had died. He only just now realized the dark black, partially translucent tube was now gone. Someone must have come and taken it away—thankfully. The empty one was still there, though: the one he’d tried and failed to trap Varsh in.

“He’s not dead, no. He can survive a fall of that height. Easily, he could. But I don’t think he’ll be coming back any time soon. You cut his hand off. Really quite impressed, Zach.”

“Th-thanks?”

Mr. Oren laughed. “Just take the compliment.”

Zach decided not to argue the merits of whether or not he deserved to be congratulated for bodily mutilation, because in truth, even he didn’t know how he felt about it. Disgusted? Yes. Amazed? Of course. Proud of himself? A little. But guilty? Honestly, no. He hadn’t killed the man, and the guy clearly deserved it. Even still, he definitely didn’t enjoy seeing that.

“I remember using Wave Slash and then thinking my heart was going to—ugh! Wow, that one hurt.”

“Sorry,” Kesten said. How long was this going to take, anyway? Hopefully it would be over soon. Kesten licked his lips and narrowed his eyes as if completely concentrated on his task. Yet he still seemed able to carry a conversation. “It sounds like you OE’d,” he said.

“Huh?”

“What you were saying to Alex. About passing out. Sounds like you OE’d.”

“OE’d?”

“Over exerted. You went into E-debt.”

“E-debt?”

Kesten sighed as if frustrated, which for some reason caused Mr. Oren to frown. “Kest, he’s a total noobie. And also a student. I don’t like the way that sigh sounded. We should teach a student who asks questions, not lose our patience with them.”

“Okay, but dude, I’m not a teacher. You are. And I’m not trying to be a dick, it’s just hard to explain things everyone knows.”

“You mean everyone who levels, right?” Mr. Oren asked. “Let me remind you that more than 99.9% of the population of Galterra doesn’t know any of what Zach is asking, either.”

Kesten shrugged, but it was a strange shrug, because he performed it with only one shoulder as if to keep his green-glowing hand steady. “All right, Zach. I’ll explain, since it seems like you really do know almost nothing.”

Zach neither frowned nor replied, but inside, he was kind of annoyed. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know anything about how this worked. No one he’d ever met knew a thing, either. You had to be born lucky to get to know the secrets of the world that these people apparently took for granted. While they were out slinging magical spells and fighting dragons on their private island resorts—or whatever it was they did—he was delivering pizzas and trying to get into a decent college so he didn’t have to live in a cockroach-infested apartment building the rest of his life.

“Kesten is a very kind person,” Mr. Oren said, as if sensing Zach’s unease. “I mean that. He’s just extremely blunt and often hurts people’s feelings without any ill intent.”

“What he said,” Kesten added with a grunt, still concentrating on repairing Zach’s hand.

“Go ahead, Kest. Explain it to him.”

Kesten nodded. “There are two types of abilities, okay? External and internal. Oh, and so you don’t get confused, a spell is also a type of ability, so people use the word interchangeably sometimes, even though not all abilities are spells.”

“What’s the difference?” Zach asked.

“Not much. A spell is just an ability that scales off intelligence. So yeah, anyway, what…what was I saying to you again? Ah right. So there’s two types of abilities: internal and external. Internal abilities come from leveling up or racial inheritance, and external come from something other than yourself. Now, there’s exceptions to every rule, but listen, this is the gist of it. External abilities usually have cooldowns, and internal abilities usually have exertion costs, which are described as Exertion Levels.”

“I knew some of that,” Zach said, easily following along so far. “Kalana’s dagger and her racial ability both use cooldowns. I’m guessing her dagger is external, and her Elvish ability is internal…and I guess that must be an exception to the rule you were talking about.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, right, of course you don’t know. Kalana can make a little torch thing above her head like a flashlight, but she can only do it three times a day. So based on what you’re saying, that’s an internal ability with a cooldown, which is rare but happens. Am I getting this right?”

“Right,” Kesten said, “and that little sword thing you did—Wave Slash, I believe you called it?—was an internal ability with no cooldown: it had a cost in exertion instead, which is true of most internal abilities.”

“Which I’m guessing,” Zach replied, “literally means exerting myself?”

“For the most part, yep.”

Zach lowered his eyes a moment as he thought back to the ability’s description after Kalana had showed him how to access that information. He winced a moment as the pain in his wrist flared up, but it was only for a brief second.

“I think my Wave Slash said: Exertion Cost: Moderate.”

“Looks like moderate is too much for you. What level are ya?”

“I’m level 3. Is that why I can’t handle it?”

“Ehh. I mean, that’s part of it.”

“Part of it?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at explaining things. Alex is only making me do this as some kind of punishment or something.”

“Not punishment,” Mr. Oren said, reminding Zach that he was still sitting right next to him. He had been quiet and Zach had almost forgotten he was there. “I just think you need to learn to interact better with people.”

“Your mom needs to learn to interact better with my dick,” he mumbled under his breath but at a volume that was still clearly loud enough for the two of them to overhear. Zach couldn’t help guffaw. Then he looked apologetically at Mr. Oren, who was glaring at him for some reason. How was that fair? Zach had only laughed at the quip. Kesten had been the one who’d said it. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Mr. Oren slightly lifted his head and turned his attention to the actual perpetrator.

“Relax, Alex. It was a joke.”

“I don’t like or appreciate those kinds of jokes.”

“Dude, we’re friends. Relax.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“Fine, fine.”

Mr. Oren can be terrifying, Zach thought. The anger in his eyes was not just for show—that much Zach could personally attest to, having seen what he was capable of.

“Keep explaining it to Zach.”

Kesten breathed out a sigh of reluctant agreement, then continued. “Leveling up,” he explained, “can definitely increase your stamina, but your level only accounts for about 10% of it.”

“Wait…is there a stat for stamina?”

“Kind of? Sort of?” Kesten shrugged, and like before, he used only one shoulder. “It’s what we call a hidden stat. Now, supposedly, there are people who can see it, but I don’t really know. Even if so, it would be useless information by itself.”

Zach felt his curiosity heightening, and he almost leaned forward out of fascination. He was glad he hadn’t, because the movement would’ve caused his wrist to judder, and who knows what that might’ve caused to happen?

“Why would it be useless?” he asked.

“Because your stamina stat is actually just a sum of a bunch of different numbers, some of them static, some of them changing constantly.”

“Huh?”

Kesten rolled his eyes, then looked over Zach and at who Zach could only presume was Mr. Oren. He wasn’t sure what kind of look Mr. Oren returned, but whatever it was, Kesten peeled his lips back slightly and released a nervous laugh, then apologized. “Sorry, I’m trying here.”

“It’s okay,” Zach said—and he meant it. “I’m kind of a dick to people too sometimes. Working on it, actually.”

“You’re a dick to me!” Kalana said cheerfully from the middle of the apartment living room. Why cheerfully? He had no idea. She almost sounded proud of it. She’d even raised her hand as she’d called that out as if wanting everyone to know that Zach picked on her a bit because he thought she was cute.

“Anyway,” Kesten continued, “unlike with your primary stats. You know, things like strength, dex, whatever. Your stamina is made up of multiple factors. A small part, of course, is your level. But dude, you need to start running or walking. Your cardio is a big portion of it. So is your ability tolerance, which…well it’s basically something you can only increase by using Exertion Abilities. Wouldn’t recommend using that one, though. Ease off that until you’ve gotten a bit tougher.”

Zach reflected a moment on what Kesten was saying, and he realized it was actually simpler than he’d thought. “So ah, okay…so basically if I use abilities a lot and build my cardio, I can exert myself more?”

“Exactly. There are also other factors that make up your stamina, and these are constantly in flux. They only play a tiny role, but they can matter. It’s stuff like your emotional state, your will to live, how much sleep you got the night before. Things like that.”

“Make sure you get enough sleep,” a voice said from the other end of the room. It was the woman. She was now walking over to them. “That’s also important. Your stamina can plummet with too little sleep. Also, hi there, my name is Alixa Firesbane. I’m so sorry about your dad. Also, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I didn’t get to introduce myself to you yet. Same for Maric here.”

Alixa was a striking woman around the same age as Mr. Oren, which was to say very young, but still older than Zach. She had bright red, straight hair styled in a bob, a pair of big, nerdy glasses, and eyes that were pure green in color, which was something Zach had never seen before. She wasn’t wearing contacts, either, as she wore glasses; this meant her eyes really were purely green in color. As in: there wasn’t a single trace of white to be found in them.

She also had two sword-shaped earrings, and each seemed to glow a dim grey color when observed from just the correct angle. She cradled a massive green book in both of her arms, which appeared to be a name registry of some kind, as indicated by the front cover. Zach wasn’t sure what that was all about.

“Hi,” Zach said to her. “I’m Zach Calador. And thanks…about my dad, I mean.”

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“So am I,” said the deep, gruff voice of a fiercely large man. He was over six feet in height, and he was so big he made Mr. Oren appear small. He also appeared to be the oldest of the bunch. From the wrinkles below his eyes and on his forehead, Zach guessed he was around the same age as his dad. He had short curly black hair, a thick, scruffy beard, and a bushy mustache. Put simply, the guy looked like a cross between a gladiator and a lumberjack. In his black tank top and gym shorts, every muscle seemed to pop out at Zach like a 3D movie. It was as if the Gods had intentionally designed him to wrestle bears. Thus, given his appearance, his impossibly booming voice, and based on the pattern so far with these people, Zach was going to guess he was like a nuclear physicist or something ridiculous.

“My name’s Maric. Maric Ultdern. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a nuclear physicist but also a full-time adventurer.”

No. Effing. Way.

Did Zach seriously just call that? No, wait. Stop. Stop! Did he seriously just call that? He did, didn’t he? Zach tried not to chuckle or high-five himself. Wow. How in the hell did he pull that off? That was just a joke he’d made to himself, but he’d been right. The guy was a freaking nuclear physicist. Zach didn’t even know what the hell that actually was, but he still got it right. And the worst…the worst part of it was that he could never tell anyone what just happened because it would be considered rude and offensive. Even Kalana would try to slap him if he bragged to her how he’d judged him on his appearance.

I’m never going to get credit for that, he thought. I’m going to have to live with this for the rest of my life.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Zach said to him respectfully. “You too, Alixa. Thanks for saving my life, by the way.”

“Hm? Saving your…life?”

With his free, not-broken hand, he pointed to his left at Mr. Oren, who bowed his head in acknowledgment. “The lab coat you made for him is the reason I’m here right now. He made me wear it. I would’ve died otherwise.”

Alixa blushed of all things, then waved at him. “Oh, stop. I’m not that good of a tailor. Why, am I? Was it really that good of an item? Do you really think that? Exactly how useful was that old silly thing I made?”

“Your work is great, ‘Lixa,” Mr. Oren said. To Zach, he whispered, “She’s deeply insecure. She’ll fish for compliments for hours if you let her.”

“What are you two saying?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Mr. Oren opened his mouth to reply, but Kesten answered for him. “He said you need to stop begging for our approval. You’re a good crafter, if not one of the best alive, but you need to stop bringing it up. It’s fucking annoying, and everyone’s sick of it.”

“Watch your mouth in front of the kids!” Mr. Oren snapped at him. “Kesten, that’s not cool, my man.”

“They’re seventeen years old, not seven. They’ve heard it before.” More politely, he smiled at Zach and said, “You’re good to go.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Good as new. Also, do you see this?” He pointed to the right side of his face, where a bead of sweat was gliding down and over his chin. “I had to use T2 Greater Healing on you, which has a moderate-high Exertion Level.” Only just then did Zach really notice the way the rise and fall of his chest had increased in pace over the last few minutes.

“I get it now.”

“Good.”

Kesten slid off the couch, turned around, and then walked into the kitchen and out of sight. Alixa followed him with her eyes, staring daggers into his back. Though just a hunch, Zach guessed that those two had some preexisting bad blood between them. Zach doubted the scowl on her face was strictly because of the one mean comment he’d made just now.

“I hate my ex,” she muttered under her breath. “I hate him.”

Zach slowly, cautiously lifted his hand and then squeezed, still expecting to feel the pain from earlier. It was now completely gone. Maric beamed a sincere smile his way, and Zach smiled back at him. Alixa also smiled, but hers was clearly forced, as even though her head faced in Zach’s direction, her eyes were still tracking Kesten, who was muttering something in the kitchen that was too far away to be audible.

“What about my nose?” Zach asked.

“That, you’re letting heal on its own,” Mr. Oren said.

“Oh. I guess magic can’t fix that.”

“No, it can.”

“Then…?”

Mr. Oren slapped him on his back. He clearly meant the gesture to be friendly, but it was quite painful. Zach actually coughed upon contact. “You need to toughen up. I need you to toughen up.”

“Why?”

“So I can get you in my guild.”

At this, Zach leapt off the couch and backed away, shaking his head. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“There’s no way I’d ever…the guilds are the worst. My mom died because of one of their stupid wars. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” Mr. Oren said, and with compassion in his voice, he calmly added, “but I absolutely believe it.”

“So why would you think I’d want to join a guild?”

“Because you don’t even know what a guild is.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then tell me, Zach: what is a guild?”

Zach didn’t even have to pause a moment to consider his words. This was an easy question if ever there was one. “A guild is a collection of rich people who level up together so they can run towns and cities and make laws.” Mr. Oren slightly raised his eyebrows but did not reply. “Well…right?”

Rather than answer him, he looked first at Maric and then at Alixa. Alixa gave a brief, curt nod. Zach wasn’t sure what was going on between the three of them, but it looked like Mr. Oren was offering either one of them the chance to explain something before he decided to do it himself.

“All right, so here’s the deal, Zach,” she said, placing her massive-sized registry book on the couch where he’d just been sitting. She pointed to herself. “First off, do I look to you like someone who runs a city?”

“That depends,” Zach answered. “What do people who run cities look like?”

She laughed. “You’re witty—and cute. I like that. But the answer is no, and do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m in a real guild.”

“A…real guild?”

“Yes, a real guild. All the guilds you’ve seen on TV? You know, the kinds that go to war over property and laws and taxes? The ones who are basically organized criminals that have somehow become our entire political system? Those people? Yeah, not real guilds. Not anymore, anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Maric said, his voice low and rumbling. “You’re not supposed to understand. They don’t want you to.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“These political ‘guilds’.”

Mr. Oren cleared his throat, then said, “If I may just quickly interject. Zach, my man, what he means is people like Varsh. The thugs in control of everything. They don’t want you to know the truth. It threatens their power.”

“And…what is the truth?”

At this, Mr. Oren stood up, walked over to Zach, and placed one hand on each of his shoulders. “The truth,” he said, grinning, “is that every single one of them are frauds, and using everything from the media, to entertainment, to the textbooks in your school, they have completely erased their own legacies.”

Zach was becoming more confused by the moment. He understood some, but not all of what Mr. Oren was saying. The parts he didn’t understand seemed like the most significant bits, too. “I’m having trouble following.”

Mr. Oren nodded at him. “Do you know what the real name of a guild is? The word ‘guild’ is actually short for something. There is a word that comes before it. Do you know what that word is?”

“No,” Zach answered truthfully. “I thought we just call them guilds.”

“Yeah, we do,” Alixa said. “And it’s because they don’t use the full name anymore.”

“And what is the full name?” Zach asked. For some reason, the question seemed to excite all three of them. Even Kesten, who returned to the living room with a bottle of Extreme Juice Pro smiled before unscrewing the top and pressing the bottle against his lips.

“The word ‘guild’ comes from a term,” Mr. Oren said. “And that term is Adventuring Guild.”

“Adventuring guild,” Zach repeated, whispering the name. “You do talk about adventure a lot.”

“Of course I do. It’s what I live for. It’s what all of us live for. It’s why every guild for the past several-thousand years except for many of the ones created in the last century even came to exist. Zach, my man, the whole reason guilds were ever invented was so that adventurers could band together for the good of our own personal growth and to protect and help each other. It’s always been about making the world a better place while forming unbreakable bonds with allies you trust.”

That sounded nice. It really did. Zach wasn’t entirely convinced, though. “What about people like Varsh?”

“He’s scum,” Kesten said, taking another sip. He wiped his mouth. “Honestly, Alex, you should’ve just killed him.” Then, to Zach, he said, “The Royal Roses aren’t a real guild. They’re a criminal enterprise. Any guild you see on the news is the same. Why do you think we can whoop their asses so badly? They’re not authentic. They might have been a thousand years ago, but they're not anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I just don’t know if I can believe this. I want to believe you guys, but now both my parents are gone because of ‘guilds’. I hear what you’re saying, but it’s a lot to process.”

“Agreed,” Kalana said.

Zach had totally forgotten Kalana and her father were in the room. The two of them had been almost perfectly silent until just this moment, as they now came to his defense. “Zach is right,” Mr. Vayra said. “My daughter and I have had everything in this entire world taken from us by human guilds.”

“I don’t mean to be mean or anything,” Kalana said, “but I’ve seen you guys do some of the worst things imaginable. I can’t sleep at night because of it. If I told you, I don’t think you would sleep at night, either.”

Mr. Oren turned to her. “I knew you were part Elvish when I first met you this semester, but I never would’ve imagined you and your father were survivors of the royal family.” There was genuine pain in the way he briefly averted his gaze before returning it. “Let me just apologize to you on behalf of every real guild on Galterra. There is a whole world you don’t know about because neither of you ever had the chance. It’s so different from what you believe.”

“How so?” Kalana asked. Her tone was polite and steady, but Zach could see there was anger in her eyes. Her lips almost seemed to be reflexively pulling themselves into a frown, one that she appeared to be consciously fighting against.

“Before I answer that, let me see what’s going on with our appraiser. He should’ve been here by now. Maric?”

Maric folded his arms across his chest, for some reason looking like a disappointed parent. He even curled his lower lip. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

“Hold on, what appraiser?” Zach asked. “Better yet, what is an appraiser?”

Instead of answering, Mr. Oren walked over to the front of the apartment, glanced out of the door, which was still open, and then craned his neck to both his left and right as if scanning the hallway for something. He paused a moment, then turned around and rejoined them. He appeared annoyed for some reason, though Zach doubted it was directed at him, Kalana, or her father.

“An appraiser,” he said, stepping around a pile of still-drying blood, “is someone who can determine certain genealogical factors without the need of DNA tests or other time-consuming efforts. Basically, he can look at you two”—Mr. Oren pointed to Kalana and her father—“and tell me in an instant if you actually are the Elvish royalty that Zach told me you were, and which you yourselves don’t deny.”

“Why does that matter?” Kalana asked defensively.

“Because then I can take steps to protect you.”

“Protect us?”

“Let’s get you appraised first. This will make so much more sense afterwards.”

Tapping his chin a moment, he craned his neck towards Zach, who tried not to let his internal conflict show on his face, but it was difficult. He didn’t trust ‘guilds’. He trusted Mr. Oren, though, and Mr. Oren was in a guild, and so it made all of this so much harder for him to come to grips with. It was like two powerful hands tugging on opposite ends of the same rope.

“I don’t believe you’re bad,” Zach said. “You did so much for me and Kal. I just want you to know that. I think we’re just…it’s hard for us to trust the guilds because we’ve all been hurt.”

“Of course,” Mr. Oren replied softly. Then, with more energy behind his words, he said, “And this all leads back to what I was saying before: these people who call themselves guilds are not guilds. How can they be? They don’t even fulfill their core responsibilities.”

Zach was going to ask what he was talking about, but Kalana beat him to it. “What responsibilities? You mean genocide and theft?”

“No, Kalana. Of course not.” Zach wasn’t positive, but from the way he folded his left hand over his right, and from the slightly lowered volume at which he spoke, it kind of seemed like Kalana’s words had deeply hurt Mr. Oren. “No guild would ever do that.”

“But they did!” she snapped. “You can say they aren’t really guilds, and I’m not gonna say you’re lying. I’m just saying what happened to me and my family really happened to us.”

“Exactly,” her father said.

“I understand that. But what I’m trying to tell you guys is that—”

“Mind if I take a shot?” Alixa asked. “Sorry for interrupting, but I think you’re going at this the wrong way. They need substance, Alex, not promises.”

Mr. Oren looked at her, then bowed his head. After a brief moment, Alixa then walked over to where Kalana stood in front of the end of the couch where her father sat. As if in response to her approach, Kalana took a seat next to her father and crossed her left leg over her right while folding her arms across her chest.

“So,” she began, pausing in front of the couch. “You’ve all heard that most of the spawn points in the world have been destroyed, right? Oh, and ah, I’m not just asking this to you two, but you also, Zach.”

“Of course we know,” Zach said. “Everyone knows.”

“Well, here’s what you don’t know,” she fired back. Her tone became so much sharper and her body language more animated as she spoke. “See, while you can destroy or deactivate regular spawns and even low-tier boss spawns, like T1 and sometimes T2, did you know that you can’t actually destroy T3 or greater regardless of boss level? In other words…”

Alixa extended her arms widely, and Zach felt a rush of nervous excitement as she declared, “Almost every boss in the world still exists.”

At this, Zach gasped, Kalana unfolded her legs and leaned forward, and her father merely rubbed his chin. “That’s crazy,” Kalana said, pointing at Alixa. “You expect us to believe that?”

“It’s not crazy,” Mr. Oren said. “I wish it were. I wish to the Gods above that Alixa was lying to you. But she’s not. The boss spawns are all intact.”

“Then where are they?” Zach asked.

Still keeping his eyes on Kalana and her father, Mr. Oren answered his question. “And that’s the question, isn’t it Zach? That’s the question that’s the key to everything. The key to who I am. The key to why I’m even teaching at your school. If anything is going to change your mind, then it’s what I’m about to say.”

“I’m listening.”

“So, where are these boss spawns? Such an amazing question. Do me a favor. And I’d like all three of you to do it, please. Take out your phones and—”

“Uh, Mr. Oren,” Zach interrupted, “we broke ours. I told you the story.”

He tilted his head a moment then raised his finger. “Ah, right. Of course. What about you, Your Majesty?”

Mr. Vayra removed his cell phone, but only after grumbling about responsibility and saying, “You didn’t tell me your broke your phone, Kalana.” Then, holding it up to Mr. Oren, he said, “Okay? Now what.”

Mr. Oren’s entire demeanor changed in that moment. He straightened his back. He inhaled, and Zach could visibly see his chest rise as it filled with oxygen, which then fell as he slowly let it out in a deep exhale as if preparing himself for something. His eyes narrowed, but only somewhat. He gripped his right hand into a fist.

“You want to know where they are, these boss spawns? Let me tell you a little story about a town just twenty miles south of the city in Varda’s Lair. It’s a nice little place. I actually went there once as a kid. The bakery makes beautiful, delicious pastries. Are any of you familiar with this town? It’s called Raven’s Claw.”

“I’ve never been there,” Mr. Vayra said, “but I believe I’ve heard the name once or twice when passing through Varda’s Lair. It’s a beautiful city. Much nicer than this one.”

“Varda’s lair is indeed a lovely city, Your Majesty. But this sleepy little town, the one called Raven’s Claw? It was also a beautiful place. With kind, loving, and accepting people. I even hear they were planning to open a university to help the struggling local businesses since the guild in power these days, a hideously misnamed group of thugs calling themselves the ‘People of Virtue’, decided to raise taxes for the fourth straight month in a row, which they of course spend on booze, women, and gambling.”

“Animals,” Kalana growled.

“Animals indeed,” Mr. Oren agreed. “But still, the people tried their best to prosper. At any rate, do you know how they’re doing right now? The kind, hardworking people of Raven’s Claw? Do any of you know? Have you heard anything? On the news, maybe? Hm?”

“No,” Zach said, becoming a bit agitated. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat, as he had the sense he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. “How are they doing?”

Mr. Oren turned around, fixed him with a hard, ruthless, but somehow still compassionate stare. Then he spun back to face Kalana and gave her the same, before finally, he settled his eyes on her father. “They’re dead,” he said. “All of them. More than five-thousand residents: every man, woman, and child. They’re all dead.”

“W-what?” Kalana shouted. “How? Why?”

“Why?” Mr. Oren repeated. “Because last month, in the early hours of the morning, just after sunrise, during what was set to be a beautiful, bright and sunny early-spring day, a level-57, T3 beast-type boss named Azex the Prowler spawned and began to indiscriminately kill each and every human it came across.”

“What?” Zach asked in a yell as disbelief poured into him. “Impossible.”

“Impossible, Zach? No, I wish. Remember when I was out sick for a week? That’s when it happened. And what followed was almost routine, sadly. As usual, not long after it spawned, the peacekeepers were called in. Predictably, they died too, but not before radioing in the ruling guild, People of Virtue, who took immediate action—to cover it up. They only bothered to call my guild’s alliance after three full days. We took the job, immediately and without question, but obviously, we had to gather our members and prepare, which took another day and a half.”

Zach covered his mouth. “So then for…”

“That’s right. For four-and-a-half days, this thing rampaged and methodically slaughtered every single living human in the town until we finally showed up too late and killed it. Our reward? The boots I’m rudely using to walk over your carpet, Your Majesty. The cost? Five-thousand lives extinguished. Now, please look up the name of the town on your phone. There are several called Raven’s Claw, so kindly make sure it’s the one south of Varda’s Lair.”

A sinking feeling entered Zach’s stomach as he watched Kalana’s father tap the touch screen of his phone as he searched for what Mr. Oren had asked him to find. He looked up and announced, “I found it.”

“Read the article, please. Pick one. I don’t care which one.”

“Uh, okay.” He cleared his throat. “Mysterious super-tornado destroys entire town, killing five-thousand. Wait…super tornado? The hell is that?”

“It’s bullshit,” Kesten said, his nostrils flaring. “It’s an absolute lie. I was there. I’m the one who struck the killing blow on the boss.”

“But…but why lie?” Kalana asked. “What do they get out of it?”

“They get to keep existing,” Alixa answered. Her glasses began to slide down her face, so she pushed them up. “You don’t get it, do you? All right, hon, it’s like this. Alex told you guys how these guilds you hate are bogus, right? He means that literally. They can’t kill bosses. They wouldn’t put themselves in danger enough to even try. It’s the same for other races in other continents as well. The Dwarven guilds, the Orc guilds, even the Bartish. If people knew these threats existed and that their tax gold went to buffoons who let tens of thousands of people die to boss spawns every year, they would lose all their power. They might all hate humans right now thanks to King Peter IV, but even with all the bad blood, they still coordinate in secret to prevent this from getting out. They scrub social media, censor or threaten broadcasters, and anyone who tries to speak out is killed.”

“It’s just…it’s hard to believe,” Zach said. He didn’t think they were lying. In fact, it sounded exactly like something the guilds would do. The difficulty came not in believing they would react this way to the existence of boss spawns, but in the fact that these boss spawns still existed at all.

“If what you are saying is true,” Mr. Vayra said, “then why don’t you tell the world?”

“For several reasons. Number one, that’s more difficult than you’d think, since the guilds control the media and the media controls the narrative. But secondly, because we don’t want to go to war with the so-called ‘guilds’ over this. Not yet, anyway. They’re weak individually, but in a war, they have more numbers and more resources and can win a battle of attrition. Even our entire alliance united might not be enough—yet. But here’s why I’ve taken the time to tell you all this.”

Mr. Oren gestured, and Maric walked over to him. He raised his hand so that it was the level of his chest, palm open and pointed upwards. Mr. Oren touched his pointer finger to the middle of Maric’s palm, and then, in the air above him, an image popped into existence. It was a picture—an insignia, rather. It was a depiction of two blades with red-and-gold hilts crossed, and in between the blades was the cartoon, stereotypical image of a God: a man in white robes sitting on a cloud.

“All true guilds are adventure guilds,” Mr. Oren said. “Ours included. But some guilds specialize in different areas. As for us? We are a boss-killing guild. We,” he continued, extending his arm at the image in the air, “are the God Slayers Guild. We don’t rule cities. We don’t tax towns. We kill bosses.”

Amazing, Zach thought. If this is true, then…amazing…

Mr. Vayra raised his index finger questioningly. “Here’s what I don’t understand. If this is true, then why are you teaching my daughter and her boyfriend science at a local high school?”

Mr. Oren nodded as if expecting the question. “For two reasons. One, because I love science, and two, because I’ve been studying the river bed for rock samples in order to evaluate the natural movement predicted over time versus the actual, current rock distribution.”

“You’re…studying rocks?” Mr. Vayra asked.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because believe it or not, I can use the formation of rocks and their current locations versus their expected locations to actually determine when—or specifically, how long ago—they were most recently disturbed. In this case, almost exactly two-hundred-twenty-two years ago. That’s…a really bad thing. A really, really bad thing.”

“Why?” Zach whispered nervously.

“Because, Zach, sometime within the next year, a level-87, T9 Leviathan-type super-boss from the Leviathan River is going to respawn. And when it does, there won’t be a single building left standing.”

“No way!” he shouted. “Whispery Woods is going to be destroyed?”

“Yes.”

Zach threw out his hands to both sides of himself and smiled. “Th-that’s great!” The glare Mr. Oren shot his way made him immediately lower his arms and meekly apologize. “Sorry.”

“It’s not great. It’s also why the budget is increasingly being lowered for things like building repairs and roadwork. It’s not just the war with the Royal Roses. It’s based on my findings that I sent to the guilds warning them.”

“Why would you do that?” Zach asked.

Mr. Oren rubbed his forehead. “Zach, my man, obviously so the people can be evacuated in time.”

“The entire city?”

“Yes, obviously. Even the guilds are smart enough to know they can’t get away with letting fourteen-million people die to a monster taller than the highest skyscraper. They’ll make up a lie, of course. They’ll think of something. But in four or five months, I expect everyone to be gone from here.”

“So that’s why you’re here,” Zach whispered.

“Correct. I was actually testing some trace samples earlier today of the creature’s last respawn that had somehow weathered over a century of time. It’s all very corrosive, flammable stuff. That was right around when you barged in. Now here we are.”

This was so much to take in: too much to take in. Zach believed him, too. He could tell from the horrified expressions on the faces of Kalana and her father that they believed him, too. Both of them looked like they needed to sit down despite the fact that they were already seated.

“Um, Mr. Oren?” Kalana asked.

“Yes?”

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand. How come you didn’t evacuate those poor people at Raven’s Claw?”

“We didn’t know,” Alixa fired in defensively. “There are mobs that spawn every five-hundred years. There are mobs that spawn every fifteen seconds. Some we know about, others…others we’ve never seen before.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Oren said.

“But couldn’t you have done something over there like you did here?” she asked. “Uh, meaning use science to figure it out?”

“No,” he explained, “because that requires two pieces of information we didn’t have: the fact that there even was a boss spawn there, and secondly, the respawn duration.” As if sensing her confusion, he clarified, “Even if we know of the existence of a boss spawn, there has to be some record on file, or someone credible who knows the respawn time. All I can do—and only some of the time—is figure out when the last spawn occurred. But that information is useless without knowing how long there is between respawns.”

Mr. Oren walked over to the window to the right of couch and pointed into the distance—to the river, which was visible even from here, as was the Bridge of Torment that allowed a never-ending, constant stream of DEHVs to blast safely across it.

“We know the Leviathan’s respawn time because people far wiser than us used to keep detailed records of spawns and spawn timers. So much of it was lost, but not all of it. At any rate, we know it exists, as the river is named after it, and we know it has a two-hundred-twenty-two year respawn timer. We even found detailed descriptions of its size, level, tier, and ability. What we didn’t know was the last time a raid had formed to kill it. I was able to painstakingly piece it together, which is why we now know the spawn is going to pop in just a few months. It’s going to take the entire alliance to kill it. A T9 super-boss is bad enough…but level 87 too? It’s going to take hundreds of us to down it, and loss of life is guaranteed. Some will die. But that’s what the guilds do. That’s what real guilds do. Do you finally get it?”

“I think so,” Kalana whispered. “I’m sorry I compared you to the…the monsters who hurt me and my family.”

Alixa lowered her head. “It’s okay. We’re used to it. The truth is, we often—”

“NOBODY PANIC! I’M HERE! I’M HERE! I AM STILL ON TIME! DADDY, I AM HERE!”

Alarmed, Zach spun around as fast as he could at the yelling voice that seemed to come from somewhere in hallway. He had never heard anything like it. It was so loud that it sounded like it was coming from a speaker system. It also sounded unlike any voice he had ever heard. It was high in pitched but definitively masculine. It was almost cartoonish in how uneven and somewhat silly it sounded.

He heard a thud from behind him as Kalana jumped off the couch and stood by his side, grabbing her dagger and holding it defensively in front of herself. “What the hell was that?” Zach asked her.

“I don’t know,” Kalana said. “But this time, I’m not gonna listen to you if you say to run. I won’t leave you.”

“I am coming, I am coming,” the voice cried, lower in volume now but still pretty loud. “I am being good. Don’t worry, daddy!”

There was a loud, excited patter of footsteps from the hallway. It sounded like four feet—so there must’ve been two people. Their footsteps were incredibly soft. Zach doubted he would hear them at all if not for the fact that, whoever these people were, they were moving fast—very fast.

“Our appraiser is here,” Mr. Oren said. “Finally.”

Zach glanced hesitantly over his shoulder. “This…this isn’t the Royal Roses coming back to get us?”

He laughed. “No, actually, this is…”

“This is something so much worse,” Kesten said, scowling. “I hate being around him.”

“Don’t you dare speak that way of him,” Maric threatened. For a brief moment, the two actually looked like they might get into some kind of brawl: the massive dad-aged bodybuilder versus the blonde doctor dressed like a rock star.

Kalana twisted her lips, then lowered her dagger as the footsteps came closer and closer. It took her a while to put the weapon away—as though she didn’t fully trust that they were safe. Zach couldn’t blame her, because he felt the same way, too. He wondered if “safe” was ever something they’d truly feel ever again.

“I know everyone must be mad,” the voice said, so close to them now. “That is okay. Because now I am here. So you can’t be angry. Everyone, everyone. I am here. I am here. Don’t worry. I am here.”

Zach lowered his eyes—then widened them in complete and total bewilderment as a fluffy cat with black and white fur raced into the apartment, jumped up on the living-room table, which had somehow not been destroyed earlier, then Jumped off the very same living-room table, before running into the kitchen and jumping onto a trash can, leaping off it a moment later and landing onto the kitchen countertop.

Then it jumped off that and ran all the way across the living-room floor to where Zach stood, watching it in awe and wondering if it really had just spoken to them. It apparently had, because it talked a second time.

“I am now here,” it said, staring up at them.

“Fluffles, you’re an hour late, gods-damn it,” Kesten said.

The cat hissed at him. “Fluffles did nothing wrong.”

“Where were you?”

“Fluffles did nothing wrong!”

The cat jumped up on the couch, then sat down—but only for a half second. Then it jumped off the couch and walked over to Zach. “Hi!”

“Ah…hey,” Zach said. Then he looked over to Kalana who merely returned an amused shrug.

The cat spun around in a circle then ran away again, this time moving towards Maric. “Daddy, I am here now.”

His entire face softened as he looked at the cat. He puckered his lips and blew a smooch into the air. It was strange to see that from such a behemoth-sized, buff, and masculine man. “Fluffles, we need you to appraise that girl”—he pointed at Kalana—“and her father. We need to know if they are really the surviving Elvish royal family.”

“Those two?” Fluffles asked, gazing upon them from his soft, amber-colored eyes. Then he turned back to the one he called ‘daddy’ and said, “No. I will not appraise. First, I want chicken. Give chicken.”

“Fluffles,” he said, in a high-pitched tone, which given his typically booming, rumbling voice, meant it sounded more like that of the average person’s. “Please appraise them.”

“No. I want chicken.”

“You had your lunch already.”

“I want second lunch.”

“You can’t have a second lunch, Fluffles. We’ve been over this. You are such a naughty cat.”

“I am not naughty. I want chicken. I want chicken now! I also want chin scratch.”

Zach coughed into his fist, mostly to draw their attention. Everyone turned to him, even the cat. “I have some canned tuna in my apartment. I wouldn’t mind giving the cat some—”

“Yes!” Fluffles cried. “You are now my friend. You will give tuna, and I will appraise.”

“Uh, sure, whatever.” Zach began to walk towards his apartment, but he was stopped as Maric held one of his bulky, massive arms out, barring him from taking another step.

“No,” his deep voice boomed. He came across as scary and intimidating, though somehow, Zach had the sense that it wasn’t even the man’s intention to appear that way. “Fluffles had a big lunch. He doesn’t get to eat two lunches.”

“Yes. Yes I get two lunches,” Fluffles said. “And chin scratches. Zach is my new friend, and he’s going to give me tuna.”

The cat’s voice really was like nothing in this world he’d ever heard outside of maybe a cartoon. It had a sort of innocent “squeak” to it. It was rare that something could be so high-pitched and still maintain a masculine quality.

“Zach, let’s go get tuna.” It began to walk in the direction of his apartment as if it knew where he lived, which for all he knew, it might. Who knew what was real or right anymore? He couldn’t even follow the cat if he wanted to, because Maric was literally barring his passage.

The cat stopped in the frame of the door. “Zach. Tuna.”

“I can’t, little buddy,” he said to the cat. “This guy won’t let me pass.”

“That’s because Fluffles has already had lunch,” Maric said with a moan.

The cat hissed. “He is lying to you. Fluffles had no lunch.”

“Fluffles!”

The cat meowed. “Fine. It was small lunch.”

“You had two cans.”

“One can.”

“Fluffles…”

“Okay. It was two cans. I’m sorry, daddy.”

Zach looked over to the cat, who began to glide back into the apartment towards them. Then he looked at the cat’s bearded, gruff ‘father’ who sighed as if he’d been worried the cat would not cooperate. “How…how is this possible?” he asked.

For some reason, the question caused Mr. Oren, Kesten, and Alixa to all glower at the large, imposing man, who released an annoyed grunt. “An accident happened.”

“A careless accident,” Mr. Oren said.

Fluffles hissed. “Do not call me an accident!”

“Sorry,” Mr. Oren said. “It wasn’t meant that way, Fluff.”

“Yes it was. Now I will not appraise. You have offended. I want chicken and chin scratches and tuna from Zach. Hi Kalana.”

The cat brushed against her, and with a quick raise of her eyebrows, she bent down and began to pet the creature, who seemed to know her name without anyone having spoken it. It purred as she rubbed the fur on its back and scratched under its chin.

“What…I’ve never seen anything like this,” Zach said.

“Because it’s never happened before. Or at least I don’t think it has,” Maric replied. Then he groaned. “I can tell you won’t stop asking until I explain it to you, so here’s the short version—and it’s why those three are mad at me. So, about two years ago, when Fluffles was still just a kitten, we came back from a guild raid. We defeated a boss that only spawns once every eighty-one years and drops a rare gem the size of your thumb that looks almost exactly like a diamond. No records exist of what the gem actually is or what it does, so we—meaning Alex and I—decided to study it together.”

“I see…”

“Well,” he continued as a nervous laugh escaped his lips. “I decided to start by evaluating its atomic structure, so I left it on my desk for just a few minutes unattended to go to the bathroom, and that’s when Fluffles…he ate it.”

“It was not good,” Fluffles said, seemingly corroborating the story. “It was not yummy like chicken.” The cat jumped back up on the couch and then walked onto Mr. Vayra’s lap. He pet the cat as if out of reflex. Then the cat said, “Alex, this man is the Elvish king’s son. I appraised.”

“Finally,” Mr. Oren muttered. “Thank you, Fluff.”

“Kalana is his daughter, too.”

“Thank you.”

The cat meowed. “I did good. I was a good cat. Now I am supposed to get chicken and tuna from Zach.”

“No one agreed to that,” Mr. Oren said.

The cat made a loud, angry meow. “You all agreed. You all said Fluffles appraises, Fluffles gets chicken and tuna from Zach. You can not say and then—oh, evil thing! I will kill. I will protect!”

Fluffles jumped up onto the windowsill adjacent to the one Zach’s father had been thrown out of. He pressed his face against the glass as a bird flew by. Even as shouts of “No, Fluffles!” roared out of the mouths of Mr. Oren and his three friends, a loud, thunderous boom echoed from somewhere outside the apartment, followed by a full-on lightning strike that actually streaked across the entire sky. The bird was fried instantly. Zach could actually see it turn from a living creature into a pile of feathery mush as it began to fall out of sight back down to the streets below.

“I was good,” Fluffles said. “Do not be mad at Fluffles. I protected you.”

“That’s it. I’ve had enough of this creature,” Kesten growled. “I have patients to heal and actual work to be done. I’m leaving. I’ve had enough.” With a growl, he added, “Someone get this gods-damned cat under control.”

“I do not like Kesten,” the cat said. “Alixa was right to dump.”

Alixa snickered, Kesten again growled, and Zach watched as the leather-jacket-wearing doctor stormed out of the apartment in a huff, slamming the door closed with enough force to make the walls rattle. Zach also tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. Though he appreciated the man healing his wrist, he had to admit he didn’t much care for him either.

For the next minute or two, Zach watched as Kalana fell in love with the cat, who fell in love with her back. He smiled. Even though something horrible had happened to his father, the sun had now risen, and he felt like there would be hope at the end of all his pain.

But all that was crushed as Mr. Oren looked at him sadly and then said, “Zach, I’ve been putting this off, but it’s time to tell you straight out and plainly that you won’t be seeing Kalana again for a good while.”

Zach frowned. “Excuse me?”

“This is the part of the conversation I was dreading. But now it’s time. All right, let’s just give it to him straight.”

As they began to speak, Zach felt a combination of hurt, disbelief, and even a slight feeling of betrayal. This wasn’t something he saw coming at all. It blindsided him completely. He’d had enough.