The Last Experience Point

Chapter 85: The Peel

“Disgusted” was not a strong enough word to describe the sickening feeling of both disbelief and agitation that immediately overcame Alex as he watched Zach and Queen Vayra, somehow now on good terms, staring down the fourth-in-command of the Royal Roses, Varsh Gellor. Having challenged the man to a duel to the death in front of countless reporters broadcasting this nationally and internationally, Alex could barely contain his disappointment in Zach. This was not the kind of person Alex knew him to be. Though he had his faults—as did everyone—a desire for violence had never been among them, and it was disturbing to see him behave this way. At the moment, he was locking eyes with Varsh, who was staring vengefully back at him.

“How dare you make such an outlandish accusation against me, you festering pile of trash!” Varsh cried. “Everyone knows I would never call upon the service of a bounty hunter to deal with a maggot like you!”

“Oh, really? Because you definitely did,” Zach said, still pointing at him. Now, he grinned, and there was a sadism in his expression that Alex did not recognize from his former student.

“You are a liar!”

“If I’m a liar, then prove me wrong and defend your honor: that is, if you’ve even got any, you pathetic son of a bitch! Either that, or turn around and run away and let everyone see you for the coward you are. Personally, I think you’re too chickenshit to fight me.”

With each passing second, more and more adventurers were emerging from their tents to come and watch, eager to see what the commotion was about. Predictably, the moment they realized what was going on, they not only appeared to support Zach’s conflict with Varsh—despite many of them not even knowing the cause of it—but they immediately began to spur it on, cheering Zach’s name.

This is a terrible turn of events, Alex thought.

Surprisingly, what made this so awful was not the ramifications, at least in terms of consequences, of what would happen if Zach ended Varsh’s life. In fact, if one were to look at this solely from the perspective of potential harm and backlash Zach might incur, then there existed no single entity in the entire world of political guilds better suited to be killed consequence-free than Varsh Gellor. He was a man who everyone on every side reviled. His only allies were those with familiar ties or ones of convenience, and even they privately held disdain for him. What was more, it was an open secret that Varsh constantly created all kinds of problems for the Royal Roses, and not even his own guild-leader would be saddened to be rid of him.

Additionally, Zach, to his credit, seemed to be wisely avoiding speaking anything aloud about his deceased father or the kidnapping of Kalana. Though the boy was not well versed in politics, it was clear that even he understood that mentioning either of those things would bring a backlash onto all adventurers that would create many problems for them in the future.

As far as the public was concerned, a member of a guild killing another member of either the same or a different guild was commonplace and completely ordinary. But the very idea of a member of a guild—someone whose responsibility it was to protect the public—killing a civilian and abducting a teenage girl was one that could inspire rioting and mass unrest, and that was before taking into account that the girl was Kalana Vayra.

So, yes, if any silver lining existed to this awful confrontation, it was that Zach was essentially in the clear to do whatever he wanted with Varsh and face no repercussions as a result of it—provided he did not smear any of the guilds in the process. As long as, in the eyes of the public, this was shown to be a personal dispute between himself and Varsh Gellor, no one was going to raise a fuss. After all, these sorts of things happened every other week and often fueled tabloids, news coverage, and in some cases TV dramas and movies. Many fights were recorded and aired censored with any major gore removed. In a manner of speaking, Zach could not have chosen a better person to have a blood feud with. So no, this was not what troubled Alex.

What did trouble Alex was what this implied about the direction Zach might choose to steer his life. Although his grievances with Varsh were more than legitimate, his behavior right now was still nevertheless inexcusable, and for this reason, Alex felt a deep frown forming on his face. This was not what Zach should be doing. Zach needed to embrace goodness, not violence. He was too powerful to be allowed to act on violent desires. No, he needed to mature beyond the point of giving into his instincts. And this was both for the sake of the world as well as his soul. Yet how, Alex wondered, could he convince Zach of this? How, when fully grown adults who should know better were egging him on?

“Kill the son of a bitch!” Donovan called out, hooting and hollering with the rest of the GSG. Unlike the other adventurers here, Donovan—and nearly all of the GSG—knew what Varsh had done to Zach’s father, so one might be tempted to excuse their lapse in judgement. Yet Alex also knew that Donovan’s actions would be no different even if he’d been totally unaware of how the boy had suffered at Varsh’s hands. He, like the others, were clearly acting off a combination of stress over tomorrow’s battle with Ziragoth, the fact that three hours remained until the briefing, and a deep, scathing hatred of the members of the political guilds, of which Varsh was among the most contemptible. Thankfully, however, not everyone here was in favor of needless violence. It was good to see that at least some sensible voices were making their presence known.

“Why are you doing this?” Olivir cried out, alarm in his voice. “Zach, don’t. You don’t want to be this person.”

“Please don’t go down this route,” Kolona said. “I know what he did to you, but…but you don’t want to do this. Please. This isn’t self-defense. This isn’t like before on Archian Prime.”

Zach ignored them both—assuming he’d even heard them. Right now, he appeared to be focusing all of his attention on Varsh. He was also mostly unrecognizable from his usual self, and given the incredibly short time that had lapsed between now and the last time Alex had seen Zach, he could only surmise that Queen Vayra had given him his new set of equipment, which had the effect of transforming the mildly appearing boy into something far more threatening and fearsome. The queen had been exceptionally generous.

His low-level armor set from the early floors of the Catacombs of Yorna had been completely swapped out for a full set of all-black, highly intimidating gear that Alex did not recognize, which meant it was either crafted or from one of the many, many unexplored areas of Archian Prime. His guess was the latter.

Seeing him in that gives me an ominous feeling, Alex thought to himself.

The outfit Zach wore was downright menacing. His old hand-wraps had been replaced by gloves, his tunic had been replaced by a black robe, and it appeared the hooded cloak on his back had replaced his helm. He’d also done away with the old sandals, and now a pair of equally black, polished-looking shoes completed his much darker look. And while he still wore the same blasting ring that he’d used on one of the Cursed Defenders of Ziragoth, it appeared that Queen Vayra had even provided him with three new accessories: two silver bracelets that were more like wrist chains, and a pendant in the form of a fist-sized skull that emitted some kind of purple smoke from each of its empty eye sockets. Alex had never before seen these three accessories, either.

But of all his new equipment, it was the cloak in particular that made his overall look appear so intimidating, as it obscured Zach’s eyes from most angles, casting a shadow over his face that Alex did not believe was entirely natural and was likely an effect of the equipment itself. For whatever reason, many types of equipment had certain effects or flair, such as emissions of various substances, particles, fluids, lights, etc. This, however, was one Alex had not seen until just now. And he was certain it was definitely equipment-caused, as even when observed from angles that should have allowed sunlight to cast down on Zach, the entire upper half of his face was shrouded in darkness except for his eyes, which gave off an unnatural glow. When combined with his twisted, all-too-eager smile, Alex couldn’t help but stir uneasily where he was standing next to Kalana.

I really don’t like this…

Whereas Zach had taken on an entirely new image, Varsh, on the other hand, looked exactly as he had the last time Alex had seen him. He had the same long black hair that reached down to his shoulders, an unkempt, bushy beard, and he wore his black cloth robe with the glowing red rose woven into the fabric near his right breast. In both his hands was his oaken staff, which he appeared to be angrily clutching so tightly that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. His brow was furrowed, his upper lip was pulled back revealing his teeth, and he was audibly grunting. If the intention from Zach was to goad the man into a fight, he had clearly succeeded.

“What does he think he’s doing?” Kalana asked in a whisper, her voice coming across as equal parts worried and irritated.

“Getting revenge, it seems.”

“I…I can understand why he wants to do that, but this doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Nor should it,” Alex replied to her in a whisper. “If Zach succeeds in goading Varsh into a fight, and he almost certainly will, then this is no different from outright murder: regardless of whether or not Varsh deserves it. You understand why, yes?”

“I think so. It’s ‘cause it’s unfair, right?”

“That’s correct, Kalana. There is no universe in which this is a fair fight. I’ve seen how much Zach has grown in such a short time, and every adventurer here can see this is a farce. That man, Varsh: he has less than zero chance. Zach could easily kill that man with a hand tied behind his back. This is murder.”

“Isn’t he thirty levels higher?”

“Maybe a little more,” Alex said. “But of all the unusual things taking place here, the idea of an adventurer killing a political guild member thirty levels higher than himself is not one of them. In fact, that’s the expected outcome in almost all cases. Zach is going to kill him, and it won’t be close.”

Kalana grabbed his hand and squeezed as though out of reflex. Alex winced. “Kalana, that really hurts.”

She immediately let go and apologized. “I’m so sorry. I just don’t wanna…I don’t wanna let him do this. I know he’s upset. I also won’t ever forgive that evil man for what he did, and I know he killed Mr. Calador, but we…we don’t kill people, Alex. We can't let him become that. You gotta do something.”

“I don’t know what I can do here,” Alex said, becoming frustrated “If I try to intervene, I might only make things worse.”

Kalana crossed her arms. “Zach’s gonna be really mad at me.”

Alex looked at her. “Why?”

“You’ll see.” She stuck out her tongue playfully, and Alex chuckled despite not himself knowing why. Something about Kalana seemed to bring out a brighter side of him. It was why he was becoming so frustrated with the fear directed towards her from the others. They were out of their minds if they thought this sweet young girl would ever pose a threat to them.

Earlier, when searching for Zach, Alex had outright asked her about her desire to take down the political guilds. And she’d once more confirmed that she fully intended to do so. That alone would reasonably make anyone nervous—yet only if they were to stop there and not inquire any further. Alex had decided to follow up his question by asking her how many of them she planned to kill, and her answer had been surprising: zero.

Perplexed, he’d then asked how she planned to take down the political guilds without violence. Yet she insisted she was going to use violence. Once more, he’d been confused. It was only upon asking her to clarify the contradiction in what she was saying that he realized there actually wasn’t one.

Kalana genuinely intended to one day go to war with the political guilds, and when she did, she genuinely intended to be violent. But by “violent,” she appeared to quite literally mean that she was going to beat up, but not kill those who stood in her way. And as ridiculous as that may have sounded, she technically did possess the strength, speed, and determination to actually do it.

It was unthinkable when viewed from the lens of a normal, leveled human. But even if Kalana leveled up just another ten times and made it to the 80s, she would absolutely have the power to clonk a bunch of people over the head at a speed so fast they wouldn’t be able to see her moving, let alone avoid her attacks. She insisted that, if she found herself in a battle, she would knock them down one by one until they either lost consciousness or gave up. It was something that had never been done before, which was partially why it was so hard to imagine. Yet she seemed adamant that her bloodline made her some kind of God who could take down entire guilds without killing a single person. She’d just…beat them up until they surrendered. It was so simple, yet so difficult to imagine, as death and war were so inextricably linked that the very idea of having one without the other seemed absurd.

But the fact that’s what she wants to do tells me all I need to know about her, he thought.

Zach, on the other hand, had so much potential and such a good heart. Alex believed in him. He did. But he just couldn’t place the same kind of blind confidence in him as he could Kalana. Because Zach was already showing signs of bloodlust, and that was something that, if allowed to grow, would lead to a new Peter IV, maybe one even more brutal and more tyrannical.

“So, what are you planning to do?” Alex asked her.

“I’m not gonna let him kill anybody. That’s what.”

“But how? Do you really think you can stop him?”

“Mhm.” She gave a confident nod of her head. “Oh yeah, definitely. I know Zach’s been really upset a lot lately, but after we win tomorrow, I’m gonna take him back to my place and he can start relaxing and going swimming and having fun again. Then the real him is gonna come back to us. I know it will. He went through too much too soon. I know how that feels.”

Alex sighed. “I never should’ve separated you two.”

“You couldn’t have known what was gonna happen. It’s not your fault.”

He looked at her. “True. But even still, maybe if he hadn’t been alone through so much of this…”

“You were just following traditions. You aren’t the one who decided that adventurers are supposed to do things that way, right?”

“Well, no, but…”

Kalana smiled. “Don’t worry. I know him better than anyone. Maybe even better than he knows himself.”

“I hope you’re right, Kalana.”

“I am.”

********

Somehow, incredibly, Zach’s hatred of Varsh actually seemed to grow with each second that he looked at the man. Though there was certainly a large pit of fear in his stomach due to memories of how badly Varsh had beaten the hell out of him on their first encounter, it was buried almost entirely by a mountain of raw, dark hatred for what he had done to Kalana and his dad. He was going to kill this man: no matter what.

Right now, he felt strong: very, very strong. A moment before reentering the camp, Fylwen had called upon five of her Elves to meet the two of them, and then she, along with these five, had all begun to drop buff after buff on him to the extent that he didn’t even have the time to read them all. There had to be over twenty active buffs on him right now, most of which he had no idea what they did. The only thing he knew for sure was that the combination of his new equipment and buffs had given him stats that were now almost as high as they’d been when he was in Phase Level 2. He also hadn’t had time to evaluate his new equipment. He did know, however, that his new cloak gave him the same Helm Sight level as his Unleashed Phase, which meant he now had access to the same informational benefits he had grown attached to while using his ability.

Name

Zachys Calador

Level

19

EXP

41,500/65,000

Armor Bonus

105

Strength

131

Dexterity

126

Constitution

103

Intelligence

120

Speed

100

Luck

45

After this fight with Varsh, he’d have three hours of free time before the briefing with which to take stock of everything from his new base stats to each piece of his equipment. For now, though, he genuinely didn’t care why his stats were what they were. He was content simply with knowing that they were more than high enough to deal with Varsh. That was all that mattered to Zach right now.

You killed my dad, you piece of shit! he thought, wishing he could scream it out loud at the top of his lungs. The fact that he could not only fueled his anger and made him want to vent his rage through slicing and carving. He wanted to make it hurt, too. He wanted it to be slow.

My dad was just lying there. Like he wasn’t even a person. They just left him there to rot. He probably didn’t even know why it happened to him. He didn’t even understand.

His father’s life had been miserable since the death of his mother. He’d lived such a sad, lonely life. And Zach…Zach never stopped in the morning or afternoons just to say, “Dad, I love you.” Nothing like that. He’d mostly ignored his old man and felt embarrassed of the way he’d come home and find him sitting there on the couch, drinking all night until he passed out while moaning the name of Zach’s mother with tears in his eyes—only to somehow miraculously get up in time for work the next morning.

Did his dad even know? Did he even know that Zach loved him? That Zach understood now that despite his pain, he put himself through such a miserable job six days a week just so that Zach could eat, go to school, and have a roof over his head: things that Zach just took for granted.

His dad had wanted to die. He understood that now. He lived only because Zach lived. Only because he had a responsibility to his son. Zach tried hard not to whimper as it really dawned on him that his father might have died not even knowing that Zach loved him, because Zach had never told him so. Never once. Not since he was a small child. Yes, he was a drunk who reeked of alcohol, but he was a heartbroken man who’d lost his wife and had to remain in the world for the sake of his son. And for that alone, Zach appreciated him now in way he never did when he was alive.

If you were here right now, dad, I would tell you all of this. I’d thank you for taking care of me. I’d tell you how much I really do appreciate you. But because of that piece of shit, I’ll never even get to say goodbye.

Zach let out a hiss of a rage.

I’ll never get to make things okay with us. I would trade my arm and my eye all over again if I could send a message to you wherever you are. Just to let you know I do love you, dad. You weren’t a bad father. I was just a shit son.

He looked over to Varsh.

This is all his fault. It’s all his fucking fault! I’m going to rip body parts off him. I’m going to cut things off. I’m going to make him bleed, and scream, and beg!

“You’re going to regret ever being born into this world,” Varsh said to him. “I’ll give you one final chance to crawl to me on your hands and knees and kiss my boots, and maybe I will forgive your slander, you disgusting little whelp.”

Zach’s response was to draw his sword. “Accept the duel, coward!” he screamed. There were murmurs of surprise from those around him, presumably at the sheer level of emotional fury that came across his words. “Accept my duel, or everyone here will know that you’re a coward who has to hide behind bounty hunters.”

Varsh raised his staff, gripping it in both hands. “I accept!” he shouted. “We need only an officiator from the guild.”

“I will officiate,” said a voice from the distance, causing even Zach, along with many others, to gasp as none other than Vim Alazar, the leader of the Royal Roses emerged from within the outer perimeter of the impromptu crowd with his hands behind his back and his posture straight like the edge of a blade. Having seen him on the news so many times throughout his life, it was bizarre witnessing him up close in person.

The man was short, barely five-and-a-half-feet tall, and he had medium-length brown hair that looked as though it’d been slicked with gel or other product. Yet despite his stature, he was an imposing enough figure in his own right, as his voice was sharp, distinct, and tended to carry well when raised, and his hazel-colored eyes were a commanding compliment to his olive-colored skin. Though in his mid-sixties, he looked physically to be no older than thirty-five or thirty-six, and he was actually the third-youngest guild-leader after Fiona Darkmae and Peter Brayspark. As he came nearer, Zach could not help but feel awed by his presence.

Of all the guild-leaders, Vim Alazar was known for having the sharpest tongue, a heated temper, and a love of verbal jousting. He often sparred in front of the cameras with other guild members, and when he did, he typically came out looking like an asshole. A victorious asshole, mind you, but an asshole nonetheless. He even fought with members of the media, something unheard of for a guild-member, let alone the leader of one.

Now, as he made his way towards Zach and Varsh, he quickly flicked his eyes in Zach’s direction, and then he flicked them over towards Varsh. Finally, he came to a stop at a point roughly equal in distance to them both, and it was here that he made a gesture with his chin. Now, a cameraman from a popular news broadcast hurried over.

“Zachys Calador,” he said, surprising Zach.

“Y-yes?”

“Do you attest that Varsh Gellor hired a bounty hunter to take your life due to a personal dispute involving the two of you?”

“I do,” Zach replied immediately.

Following a brief pause, the Royal Roses leader fixed Zach with a very hard, expectant stare. “And do you attest that this personal dispute is between the both of you alone and involves no outside parties?”

If not for the fact that Zach knew it would hurt Mr. Oren and all his friends, he would’ve had no problem shocking the world with the truth of what Varsh had done. But since he really, really wanted to avenge his dad, and since he was likely in enough trouble over any number of matters as things were, he decided to play ball. He knew what Vim Alazar wanted from him even without having to say so, and from the way the man was staring at him, it was clear that he knew that Zach knew what he wanted him to do.

“That’s right,” Zach said with a firm nod of his head. “This is a personal matter between guild-members.”

“I see. I ask only because there are those on social media who claim that Varsh had attacked you in your home and had involved civilians. Is there any truth to this?”

Zach shook his head. “None. That’s just, uh, you know, rumors. Varsh and I have never gotten along, and he—”

“I bet you wish that was the case!” Varsh shrieked, interrupting him. And it was in this moment Zach realized he’d taunted the man a little bit too well. Actually, way too well. This became clear as the cameraman turned his camera on Varsh, and with a deranged, almost sadistic glee, he smiled at Zach and began to laugh.

“I killed your daddy, didn’t I?” he asked, as hundreds of gasps erupted at once. “I remember him begging. ‘Eldora, help me! Eldora, what’s going on!’ And then he screamed the whole way down. He screamed like a girl as he died. Do you hear me, you worthless runt? Your father screamed like a girl the whole way down.”

As the words he shouted graced Zach’s ears, Zach realized it was a very, very good thing that it was not actually possible for someone to become so angry that their eyeballs popped out of their head. Because if so, the storm of hatred and misery that Varsh had just invoked in him would have been more than enough to blind him.

“You…you son of a bitch,” Zach whispered. He was now filled with such malice he couldn’t even raise his voice. “You’re dead, mother fucker. You’re dead. You’re…you’re dead.”

To his left, Vim Alazar closed his eyes, and he was now massaging his temples as though stressed. “I expect you’ll be cutting that before it airs, yes?” he asked the man holding the camera.

“O-of course, sir,” he said, nodding profusely.

“Good.” Vim then placed his attention on Varsh. “Do you care to try that again, you half-brained oaf?”

Varsh, now breathing heavily, gave a nervous bow of his head. “Y-yes, sorry boss.”

“Are you sure? Or would you perhaps like to spill more important secrets? Maybe you’d like to shout out our troop positions and battle formations while Sir Peter Brayspark is right there to overhear it, you dumb fucking buffoon.” He snapped his fingers, and if not for Zach having become so consumed by anger, he would’ve been both amused and disgusted at the way an attendant came over and began applying makeup to his face, smoothening out his suit, and spraying him with anti-perspirant while another combed and tended to his hair. A third adjusted his cufflinks.

Finally, after a moment, he shook his head and loosened his shoulders as if to pump himself up, and then, with another snap of his fingers at the cameraman, he returned his attention to Zach. “So, Zach, as one of the leaders of humanity, I take my responsibility of protecting human lives very seriously. I’ve had some people come to me anonymously and suggest that Varsh attacked you in your home and involved civilians. Is this true?”

It was far, far harder to answer this time than it had been the first time around. Yet Zach went along with this bullshit if for no other reason than it made for an excellent source of fuel for his anger. Gods, was he full of boiling, white-hot rage.

“Those are just rumors,” Zach said, staring daggers at Varsh as he spoke each word. The look in his eyes must have been every bit as ferocious as he felt, because Varsh, for the first time, seemed to finally understand just how badly Zach wanted to rip him apart. The man’s own anger seemed to dull, and something that could quite possibly resemble fear caused the lower-right corner of his bottom lip to tremble.

“Rumors?”

He nodded. “That’s right, boss,” he said, burning with an even greater intensity as he continued to stare at Varsh. “People like to start rumors to have something to talk about. But my conflict with Varsh is between the two of us alone.”

“Is this true, Varsh?”

“Yes,” he said. “But…but it’s not true that I put a bounty on his head. That is a lie.”

Vim Alazar made a “hmm” sound and rubbed his chin. “Well, it seems the both of you can’t come to an agreement on that point. It’s sad that cherished members of my guild have come to this, but if you both consent, I will agree to allow this duel. Do you consent to a duel to the death, Zachys Calador?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“And are you also a willing participant in this combat, Varsh Gellor?”

“I am,” he said.

Taking a step back, he drew a deep breath, and then raising his fist in the air, he said, “If that is the case, you now have my blessing to begin your du—”

Zach exploded forward like a heat-seeking missile, burning on the inside with a hatred so intense that not even the winds of Archian prime could cool it. Within less than a half a second, he crossed the distance between himself and Varsh, and within a quarter of a second after that, he screamed out his pain and struck out at him with the black, yet glimmering sword that Fylwen had given him. Varsh, making a croak-like noise, hurriedly switched his grip on his staff so that he held it horizontally out in front of him to block.

Without even intending to do so, on his very first strike, Zach swung with such ferocity that, with a loud, splintering crack, he snapped Varsh’s staff completely in half, breaking it in two perfectly equal pieces and causing both halves to fly out of Varsh’s hands in opposite directions. Both pieces landed silently on the grass, and then both disappeared into nothingness. Varsh, put directly off balance, began stumbling backwards and only narrowly avoided falling over.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” Zach growled. “We’re only just getting started.” He took a step backwards and then lowered his sword. “Go on and summon another weapon from storage. I’ll wait.”

“You…you’ll what?”

In just that one brief, split-second interaction alone, he could now see that all of Varsh’s anger and confidence had become immediately replaced with fear and confusion. He looked as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened: that the kid he’d beaten half to death and humiliated had become his greater in such a short time. Well, he was in for a very, very rude awakening, because Zach wasn’t even trying yet.

“Summon another weapon,” Zach demanded.

“Very well.”

Rather than summon another weapon, Zach saw him slightly arch his back and move his right shoulder, which meant he was going to raise his hand. But from the way he was pivoting on his hips, it implied he would send his palm forward. Why? Certainly not to summon anything. More likely, to fire a projectile at him. How stupid did he think Zach was? Did he really think that would work?

Before he’d even raised his hand high enough so that it was level with his waist, Zach shifted his grip on his weapon so that he held it in a single-handed grip, and then he reached forward with his opposite hand and grabbed Varsh’s wrist even before he could throw it forward and launch a magical attack, essentially stopping him in his tracks. Now, angrily, Zach squeezed so tightly that he could feel the bones crack and shatter between his fingers. Anything made of bone was crushed.

Varsh screamed. He opened his mouth widely and bellowed. And it was music to Zach’s ears. With his other, sword-bearing hand, Zach grinned sadistically and threw his sword up into the air while still holding onto Varsh’s hand. Now, with his sword temporarily rising above him, he used his newly freed hand to smack Varsh, hard, across the mouth—enough so that three of his teeth popped out of his mouth along with a spurt of blood. An instant later, Zach caught his sword.

Then, with the hand crushing Varsh’s, Zach made a rowing motion, causing him to come tumbling in Zach’s direction. Simultaneously, he stepped to the side while releasing Varsh, which let him fall forward onto the grass, his face slamming down onto the ground.

“Get the fuck up!” Zach shouted, feeling himself becoming more and more crazed with each second. He gave into it, though. He had the blessing of Vim Alazar to do whatever he wanted. All the hurt. All the pain. He was going to return it to Varsh with interest. Right now, he was so Gods-cursed angry that he began to pace side to side while he waited for Varsh to return to his feet. “I said get up! Hurry!”

Then he began to laugh, wildly, and the sickness in the sound of it disturbed him, but it disturbed Varsh even more, so it was worth it.

“You…you fucking trash!” Varsh cried, moaning and groaning and struggling to get back to his feet with only one working hand to push himself up. This would be the second time Zach ruined one of his hands, come to think of it. Right now, it was bent backwards at close to a 90-degree angle. On wobbly legs, he at least climbed back into a standing position with his back turned to Zach.

Unarmed, he made a horrific-sounding shriek, and then in one fluid motion, he spun around to face Zach while throwing out his opposite palm, causing a gigantic ball of fire to blast forward and head straight for Zach at a speed that was far too fast for him to dodge—or at least a speed that would have been far too fast for him to dodge if he hadn’t made the attack so Gods-damned transparent and predictable. It was amazing to think that this was the man who had absolutely clobbered him. This guy. This inept moron. His attack had been so obvious and telegraphed that Zach had actually begun to duck before even realizing what he planned to do. He’d just known that something was going to come his way, and he’d been right. Now, instead of incinerating him, the ball of flame instead sailed harmlessly over his head. Where it ended up next, he didn’t know. He assumed one of the adventurers in the crowd would deal with it.

“You’re doing great, kiddo!” Donovan cheered. “But stop toying with him. Make it clean.”

“No,” Zach said, looking right into Varsh’s eyes even as he replied to Donovan. “I want to do it slow.”

“Now come on, Zach,” Donovan said with a grunt, his tone becoming serious. “That’s not right. If you’re going to kill a man, then you kill that man. You don’t torture him or draw it out. That’s not okay.”

“Just a little more,” Zach said. “Please.”

Donovan narrowed his eyes. “No, kid. End it now. That’s enough.”

Zach pursed his lips in frustration but ultimately decided to ignore Donovan. He really, really liked the man, and disappointing him was the last thing Zach wanted to do, but he needed this more than any of them could possibly understand.

“Summon a weapon from storage,” he said. “I want this to be a fair fight.”

Zach laughed, knowing that this wasn’t even close to a fair fight. He spoke those words more to taunt Varsh than anything else. As though taking the bait, Varsh raised his hand high above his head, likely to call on bank and—

No! Wait a second…wow, that sneaky bastard.

When someone called on bank and storage, they placed their hand straight up above themselves, palm flat and facing the sky. Varsh, however, was angling his arm off to the side. If Zach imagined that he was holding a sword, it would be in a position for a wide, downward slash: and that was exactly what he did, slashing the air downwards with his hand.

This caused a spear made of pure ice to materialize in the world in front of Zach, already hurtling in his direction even as it came into existence. This time, Varsh almost got him. If not for the fact that he’d recognized something was off ahead of time, he would have been run through. Instead, he spun his entire body around on his heels, and the spear of ice soared harmlessly past him, eventually striking the ground and shattering into smaller, cube-shaped pieces of ice on impact.

Then, becoming fiercely angry, Zach bolted forward, lifted his blade high, and then slashed it downwards, being careful to only hit Varsh’s arms. In one swift motion, he chopped both of them off. Now, Varsh howled in pain and agony as both of his limbs were sliced cleanly off from the point of his forearm and upwards, leaving him with two stumps that were each squirting blood as he screamed and cried.

Zach extended his sword, touching it against Varsh’s neck. “Beg,” he said.

“Please! I yield, I yield!”

Zach scowled at him, drowning in hatred. “Not good enough. I want to hear you—”

“Zach!” Donovan barked, and this time, there was an intensity to his words that caused Zach to immediately stop what he was doing and turn his head in Donovan’s direction. Donovan wore a firm, no-nonsense look that practically demanded obedience, and now he glared at Zach. “Kiddo, I get it. I do. But that is enough. End it. Now.”

The sharp, narrow-eyed gaze sent Zach’s way at last broke through to him. And he nodded. “You’re right. This…this is wrong,” he said. His anger was finally dying down as it began to fully sink in just how terribly wrong it was what he was doing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He deserves this and more. I’m saying this for your sake, not his. End it. Torture ain’t what we do. Is it, Zach?”

“No,” Zach said. “You’re right.”

Donovan nodded with approval. “You’re a good kid. Now end it.”

Zach took a step back and raised his blade. And now, finally, Varsh began to beg in earnest. Zach had never heard someone use the word “please” so many times in a row. Over and over, he called it out with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t want to die! Please! Please! Spare me! I’m sorry! Please! I yield! Mercy! Mercy! Please!”

“No,” Zach said coldly. He was surprised by how little this man’s pleading affected him. There was a time in his life—not all that long ago, in fact—where it would have had an immediate and dramatic effect. He would never be able to do this to someone who begged him this way. But for some reason, the more Varsh begged, the more he wanted to deny this request and take his life.

And with that, he raised his blade higher and higher, intending for a clean decapitation. One that would cause his head to roll along the ground several times before coming to a stop. That was what he deserved. “This is for my dad,” he whispered.

And with that, he sliced down with all his strength, and he felt his blade crash into Varsh’s neck, which for some bizarre reason was a lot stronger than it should have been. Zach yelped as the impact caused his sword to immediately bounce off of it as though repelled. Stunned and confused, the impact of his sword with Varsh’s throat even caused him to be knocked back a step. He shook his head and blinked to clear his vision, as a secondary shock of impact left him temporarily disoriented—but only for a moment. Had he fallen for some kind of trap?

Immediately returning to a defensive position, he readied himself to strike again—and now, he widened his eyes as he saw Kalana standing before Varsh, both of her daggers raised above her own head, her knees bent. Baffled, it actually took him a moment to realize what had even just happened. Rather than decapitate Varsh, who was now crawling away whimpering as his two arm stumps left dual red lines of blood on the grass, he’d instead briefly crossed steel with Kalana.

“Kal?” he asked. “Just what in the hell are you doing?”

“You won, baby,” she said. “That’s enough, okay?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re not a killer. You don’t gotta do this.”

“Yes I do! Move!”

He watched as Varsh continued to slither away, screaming for someone to help him and get him medical attention. Zach, not willing to let him survive, made a quick, snappy, and hard-to-follow motion towards his left, attempting to dash around Kalana before she could even react. But she was far, far faster than him, and she intercepted him immediately.

“No!” Kalana shouted. “You can’t do this. I won’t let you.”

“B-but why?” Zach shouted at her. “Don’t you remember what he did to you?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he became aware that Vim Alazar had snapped his fingers and ordered the media to cease their broadcast the moment Zach spoke those words. Not that he cared about their guild sideshow bullshit. He just thought it was interesting how important it was to them to keep certain things under wraps.

“Of course I remember. I’d never forget. But you…Zach, I feel like you’re trying to be someone you’re not.”

“Kal, we can talk about this later. But I’m not leaving here until he’s dead.”

“You have to go through me first, then,” she said, raising her daggers.

Upon seeing this, Zach not only didn’t take her up on her offer, but he scoffed at the very idea. “Are you crazy? I’d never. I’d die before swinging my sword at you. At least…this one,” he said, causing her to roll her eyes.

“If you won’t, then you’re not gonna be able to kill him, are you?”

Zach frowned. “I won’t even attempt to hurt you. No matter what.”

“Then please, stop, Zach. I’m asking you to stop. For me.”

Zach met her eyes. “Kal…”

“What am I worth to you?”

“Everything,” he replied without hesitation.

“So if I beg you not to do this, will you listen to me?”

He was shocked by how quickly he replied even despite his unquenched anger. “Of course, I would,” he whispered. “Of course.”

“Then stop. Please don’t be a killer. I don’t wanna see you kill people. It hurts me.”

“But I’ve already killed,” he said shamefully.

“This is different! This isn’t life-or-death. You’re choosing this!”

Zach, muttering to himself, decided to give in, and he sheathed his sword. Kalana then holstered her daggers, and as soon as she’d done so, Zach reached out and grabbed her, pulling her close. “I don’t know who or what I am anymore, Kal, but I’ll be whatever you want me to be. I just wish you’d understand how badly I want him to—”

There was a scream—one with a note of both anguish and finality. A loud, gargling death rattle that caused Zach to immediately release Kalana and turn his head in the direction of the sound of it. A sickening, tearing noise came from somewhere in the vicinity of where Varsh had been crawling off. And now, Zach saw blood: so, so much blood.

Varsh was lying on the ground, belly-down, as a stream of very dark red began to gush out of an uneven, uncleanly cut piece of neck on top of which where his head used to be. And standing beside him, wearing a stunning, green-and-white gown, was Fylwen Vayra. Her arm was extended in Zach’s direction, and her fist was clenching a lock of hair, below which dangled the beheaded, pained face of Varsh Gellor, whose eyes were still slightly darting around and whose mouth was opened mid scream, his lips still in motion though slowing rapidly.

“This is for abusing my daughter,” she said. “But also, for you,” she said to Zach. Then she turned and looked directly at Vim Alazar, as well as the other guild-leaders who had just emerged from the central tent to join him. “And if any of you have a problem with it…”

Shadowing her were now fifty of her green-cloaked, Elvish warriors, and though none had their weapons drawn, all of them stood at attention as if clearly ready for combat if required.

“…feel free to seek vengeance upon me,” she finished.

With that, Fylwen began to walk, slowly, in the direction of the central command tent, as not a single soul present spoke a word, including Kalana or Zach. Pausing at a trashcan located just outside, she dumped the severed head of Varsh into the wastebin then wiped her hands on her hips. “Abram,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I believe you have an offer for me, no?”

Abram stood completely still as though transfixed, saying nothing. “Well?” Fylwen asked.

He began to mumble a few incoherent words as though he’d forgotten how to communicate using speech. Eventually, though, he managed to nod. “Yes, of course.”

And with that, Fylwen disappeared back inside the tent with the other guild-leaders. And in that moment, she had done something that Zach had never imagined she would ever be able to do: she had earned his complete and total trust.

Judging from the look of disgust in Kalana’s eyes, Zach had the impression that this was going to be the sort of very rare relationship where he not only did not gain, but might actually lose points for getting along well with his girlfriend’s mother. He’d also now need to smoothen things over with Olivir and Kolona, who were looking at him as though he’d somehow personally betrayed them.

There are pros and cons to everything, he realized. Including to allies and friendship.

“Olivir,” he said, walking in his direction. “I…”

His friend said nothing, turning his back and choosing instead to engage in conversation with Mr. Oren, as did Kolona. Kalana, at least, remained by his side. She raised her hands and pulled down the hood of his new cloak.

“You look spooky with that on,” she said. “I don’t like it.”

Speaking low enough so that she could not overhear him, Zach whispered, “I like it.”

He had changed. There was no denying that anymore. He wasn’t the person he’d been. He fixed Kalana with a stern look, one he hoped would convey that to her. She stared back at him with an even sterner one that implied she would not.

Then he turned his back to her and began to walk away. He took one step, paused, and he felt his cloak billowing around him. “I’m not the same anymore,” he whispered. “I’ve been trying to…to avoid facing this, but I’m a different person than the person you once knew.”

He took another step. Then a third, and then a fourth. “I don’t know when it happened or why. But I’m no longer a kid.” He sighed. “My innocence died when my dad did. I’ve changed, Kal. More and more, I’m realizing that. I can’t go back to how I was. Don’t you get it? I’m just no longer the boy you—GAHHHH, SHIT!”

Something happened. Something he couldn’t explain. Suddenly, the world “turned” so fast that before he realized what was taking place, he was staring up at the sky, and the ground slammed hard into his back. Kalana was hovering over him. Now, her eyebrows rose to the top of her face, and her cheeks puffed up. For some reason, she began to snicker. Then she began to laugh so hard that she looked like she was struggling to breath. “Z-Zach,” she said, now cackling so heavily that she started to gasp for air. “You just…you just slipped on a banana peel.”

“I what?” Zach asked, craning his neck to the right. Then he too began to laugh, though he tried really hard to stop it. “No way. You’re fucking kidding me. I really did. I actually did.”

“Right in the middle of your dark and all-serious speech, too! You dork!”

“Kal, it’s not funny, stop,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that funny.”

She only laughed harder. “You were talking about how tough you are, ‘cause you defeated your nemesis, and how you’re gonna be this big-bad-Zach and do all these things, and then you just—gahahaha!”

Zach chuckled. He couldn’t control it. “Kal, stop, you’re ruining my moment.”

She pointed at him, then pointed at the banana peel. “You…you actually slipped on a banana peel. I thought that was only in cartoons.” She snorted then continued to laugh to the point she had to sit down.

“It’s not funny,” Zach said, laughing. “It’s not! Kal, stop!”

As she jumped on top of him playfully then leaned over and kissed him right there in public, he realized that his old self was still in him somewhere. And when he was around Kalana, that was when he could find it. Incredibly, it had taken a banana peel, of all things, to realize that.

A fucking banana peel.