The Last Experience Point-Chapter 173: Broken Hearts

Feeling tremendously distraught, Zach struggled to concentrate, but it wasn't easy, and he mostly wasn't succeeding, either. The agitation he felt was ever-present and something he was unable to tamp down on. At best, it would linger in the back of his mind for several minutes before bursting to the surface of his awareness, gripping him with a sense of wrongness and discontent. He'd then try to bury it down deep only for it to return again and again. At the moment, he really wished Jascaila was here, although…actually, on second thought, maybe not, as there was no telling how she'd have reacted to seeing Mr. Oren nearly murder her brother.

I can't believe he did that, Zach thought, the recent violent events flashing in his mind. I really can't believe it.

He wasn't alone in his disbelief. The adventurers all around had become noticeably quieter as, from what Zach could tell, a general malaise seemed to have settled over just about everyone. They all looked like they were having as much trouble focusing as he was. It was difficult to think about anything else right now, and each time it popped up in his head, Zach felt as though a knot was further tightening in his stomach.

"It's all right," Donovan said quietly to him. The man actually happened to be standing to Zach's immediate left near the ruins of an eatery that had been completely destroyed as though bulldozed. Oddly enough, its doorway remained undamaged despite most of its foundation having been reduced to rubble. "I'm fine. Don't let any of this get to you, kiddo."

The fact that Donovan was here next to Zach and not across the street with Jimmy and Mr. Oren was not an accident. Despite both men assuring everyone that there would be no further issues between the two of them, Kalana, Seiley, and Trelvor were not taking any chances and seemed like they were willing to use force if necessary to keep them separated. They meant business, too. Trelvor and Seiley were constantly sending wary, distrusting glares at Donovan—but very few if any were directed at Mr. Oren. It was like they'd picked a side in the conflict.

Initially, Zach had been confused as to why Trelvor and Seiley were openly glaring at Donovan but not also at Mr. Oren. The Elves, at least as far as Zach was aware, had no real history with Donovan or any other reason to pick a favorite in this totally unexpected blood feud. But then Zach realized that they were likely just going off the general vibe being exuded by Kalana, and she, on the other hand, was clearly more sympathetic to Mr. Oren than the leader of the GSG. She didn't even bother trying to hide it, either.

As Zach had thought on it, he recalled that Kalana had actually told him in private on numerous occasions that she disliked Donovan and thought he was a sexist, brutish man who was "very impolite" and "uncivilized." Mr. Oren, however, had always been her favorite teacher in school, and the two had been on good terms long before Zach and Kal had come to discover anything related to the adventuring world, so in light of this, Zach supposed Kalana's preference here wasn't all that surprising. But even still, the openly hostile looks that she, Seiley, and Trelvor were sending to Donovan were uncalled for in Zach's opinion. But at least she was keeping the peace. There were a whole lot of adventurers out here, and Zach knew that just about all of them would really like to take a shot at Mr. Oren on Donovan's behalf.

They're never going to forgive him for what he almost did.

At the moment, more than a hundred adventurers and two-dozen members of Children of Order were huddled together in groups of various sizes at different parts of a street that led directly into the next one down, which was where the boss awaited. Each group was growing or shrinking in size based on continuously changing orders from Jimmy, who seemed to be putting some kind of strategy together, though he'd yet to explain to everyone what, exactly, he was planning.

In total, another three hours had passed since the "incident" between Mr. Oren and Donovan, but unlike the four hours preceding that, the delay this time around had been for good reasons and had also been productive. Jimmy, as though realizing the impracticality of leading with a megaphone, had asked the Children of Order to procure Comms for the entire raid to use. But doing so had taken almost an hour of time. Yet even if they'd received the devices instantly, it likely would have done little to accelerate things, as Jimmy would still be doing exactly what he was doing right now: working things out with Mr. Oren. The two seemed to be getting along really well. Mr. Oren made what looked like a good-natured chuckle then gave Jimmy a pat on the back.

He doesn't look like he's even slightly upset, Zach thought, becoming disturbed by the sight of him.

Right now, the lab-coat-wearing former science teacher was enthusiastically lifting his finger as though making a point about something or another, and from looks alone, one would be hard-pressed to tell that there had ever been any conflict at all between him and Donovan. Put simply, he did not look like a man who had brought his former mentor to the verge of death. He seemed totally unbothered. Could it be an act? Maybe. Zach had no way of knowing. Truly, he had no possible way of peeking behind the man's exterior curtain and into his soul. Was there a part of Mr. Oren that was deeply upset? Did he feel any guilt at all below the surface? He'd become so good at keeping his feelings sealed away that Zach couldn't even form a gut instinct. He simply did not know the answers to these questions.

Donovan, on the other hand, had clearly been affected by the altercation, and the contrast was unmistakable, as the grief of it was written so plainly on his face it may as well have been drawn in bright ink. One thing Zach had learned about Donovan was that, while the man may not have been the type to articulate his emotional struggles—or help others do so like his sister, Jascaila—he nevertheless tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, and it was never difficult to get a read on how he was thinking or feeling.

Is he really okay? Zach wondered, becoming concerned.

Zach regarded the GSG leader, whose neck, despite having healed, was still stained with dried blood. From what Zach could tell, it really seemed like he was trying to project the very same "I'm fine" energy that Mr. Oren was giving off, but unlike Mr. Oren, Donovan's slightly slumped shoulders and overall change in posture gave him away. Well, that and the fact that, for the past three hours, he'd been occasionally muttering swear words under his breath.

"So," Zach said to him, his tone conversational. "Donovan, uh…"

Donovan snapped his head in Zach's direction. "Yeah?"

Zach shrugged and tried to keep his voice casual. "You sure you still want us to do the raid today and not wait for tomorrow morning?"

Donovan looked at him a moment then chuckled. "You worried about me, Zach?"

"No, not at all."

"Bullshit."

"I'm not, honest."

"Kid…"

Zach sighed. "Okay, fine, maybe just a little. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm also worried about me—and everyone else, too. I think we're all upset right now about what happened. Are you really sure we shouldn't just call it a day and come back tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Donovan said, not volunteering an explanation or really anything beyond the one-word reply. This prompted Zach to ask the obvious follow-up question.

"So, what made you change your mind, then?"

"Eh? About what?"

"What do you think? Obviously, about us doing the raid today. And about letting Jimmy lead it all on his own. You wanted to wait until tomorrow and then, like, I don't know, just all of a sudden, you went one-eighty on that. It's weird and I don't get it."

Donovan fixed Zach with an uncomfortably serious look, but it only lasted an instant. Afterwards, his eyes briefly glanced in Mr. Oren's direction, and now he glowered contemptuously at the man. "I don't wanna deal with him for another day, that's why."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Find it too hard to believe, kiddo?"

"No, it's just…that's a pretty small thing to base such a big decision off."

Donovan flashed Zach a look that began as one of annoyance but quickly shifted to something closer to resigned acceptance. "Yeah, you're probably right, but it is what it is. I don't ever wanna speak to the fucker again after this. I saved that Gods-be-damned kid's life when he was younger than you are now, and look at how that miserable, rotten bastard betrayed not just me but the entire fuckin' community."

Of all the words Donovan had just said, a few stood out to Zach to such an extent that all the others were drowned out. "Really? You saved his life?"

"Sure did. Before he was even an adventurer, too."

Having never heard anything of this until now, Zach couldn't help but ask about it. "What did you save him from?"

"Boss spawn," Donovan said. He followed his words by spitting out a wad of saliva onto the paved street. "A T4 showed up one day out of the blue. Ended up killing his whole family: everyone but him."

"I didn't know that," Zach whispered, shocked to be hearing this for the first time.

"Well, now ya do."

Zach again looked over to Mr. Oren, who was still smiling as though delighted as he continued his animated, lively exchange with Jimmy. With his lab coat back on and his cat-eye glasses, he really did appear to be his old self.

But appearances can be deceiving, Zach thought, knowing better. He turned his attention to Donovan.

"I don't understand why…why all this happened."

"Meaning?"

Zach crossed his arms as he thought back to three hours ago and the events leading up to Mr. Oren's near slaying of Donovan. "It bothers me. It bothers me because everyone knows you wouldn't have actually killed or even really hurt Mr. Oren. You would've maybe slapped him a few times, but you never would've gone as far as he did. He can't justify what he did with self-defense."

"He doesn't gotta justify it."

"Of course he does."

"Nah, he doesn't. Because like I said: after this, I don't intend to speak to him again. I just want to be done with it. He doesn't owe me an explanation." Donovan grunted. "Alex is too far gone. He ain't one of us anymore. Just gotta accept that—and learn from it, too. Especially you."

"Me?" Zach asked, having no idea what Donovan was trying to imply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Donovan pointed at him. "You're getting too deep into guild politics. You need to cut it out before it's too late. Just look at what it did to Alex. Look at how much it changed him in just a few weeks. Now imagine what the prick is gonna be like in a few years from now." Donovan visibly shuddered. "That'll be you if you keep on messing around."

Zach knew that, with a man like Donovan, it was in his best interest to simply nod and agree no matter what he said so as to avoid a harsh rebuke and possibly a painful shoulder slap. But in this case, he just couldn't. "I think Mr. Oren only joined because he wants to help people," Zach said. "I'm not defending his decisions and stuff or trying to take his side, don't get me wrong. But I really think he wants to—"

"No shit," Donovan interrupted, his temper clearly having been sparked. He shook the finger he was pointing at Zach. "But that's how they get ya. Alex probably thought he'd be different. Kid thought he wouldn't be like the rest of them. But you can see it with your own eyes, can't you? He's turning into one of them."

"Okay, but, in fairness, that by itself doesn't mean anything since clearly they're not all bad, right?"

Of all the things he'd said, it was this that really set Donovan off. "Of course they are!" he snapped. "Every last one of the fuckers is evil. Ask anyone with sense and they'll tell you the same. The political guilds are corrupt shitheads who live for the power they have over folks. But I shouldn't have to tell you this. Look what happened to your father."

Zach had a billion things he could say in response to this, and every one of them he was sure would only serve to escalate the argument until he was the one having a potentially violent confrontation with Donovan. Only, in his case, he was sure he wouldn't actually try killing the man no matter how heated things became. He also couldn't really hold Donovan's views against him because Zach himself had held those exact same views for almost his entire life. Really, the only reason Zach now thought differently was because he'd come to understand—mostly due to his own experiences but also from discussions with Jascaila—that the only thing worse than having the often-villainous political guilds in charge would be to have nobody in charge at all. But Donovan just didn't understand that point, and it wasn't something Zach had the ability to make him see, so he decided to deescalate the tension he could feel growing between them.

"You're right," Zach said to him, letting him win. "They're all shit."

Donovan gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder, and it hurt like hell. "That's right. Don't forget it. You're an adventurer, kiddo. You're one of us. We don't fuck around in that world. Trust me, you don't want that."

Zach nodded—and meant it, too. Because on that point, Donovan was actually correct. Zach did not "want that." Gods no. It was the last thing on Galterra he wanted! Why would anyone want to be involved in violence, killing, and global politics when the alternative was gallivanting through dungeons with your buddies all day before heading back to a bar on the edge of the universe for drinks, food, and entertainment? What sane, rational being would prefer the former to the latter?

No, Zach most certainly did not want to be dragged into the world of guild politics and the Royal Roses. But he was now more certain than ever that he was going to have to do so. And why? Because in five years from now, the World Eater was going to spawn, and he knew if he shoved this responsibility onto someone else, Galterra would be destroyed. No, they were going to need more than just human adventurers to stop it. Zach could sense that much. They were going to need everybody.

To stop the World Eater, we're going to need the world, he thought. But to get the world, we need diplomacy. We need Mr. Oren…and me.

"You've gone quiet. Getting nervous?"

Zach laughed. "To fight the boss? No way."

Donovan gave him a grunt of approval. "Good. You better not be. After taking on that dragon, I expect you to shit fire and piss steel." He straightened his back and, at the same time, the level of noise in the general area seemed to rise along with the overall activity. "I think we're finally about to get started."

With the ferociously hot sun bearing down on them, Zach watched as the composition of the various groups of people here on the street began to change more rapidly, with Jimmy now constantly waving his arms around, pointing, calling out names, and ordering people to stand with others—only to move them soon after. On a surface level, it was clear that he was grouping people together based on their archetypes: healers with healers, mages with mages, tanks with tanks, etc. What was not clear, however, was why there were so many sub-groups where Jimmy seemed to be meticulously pairing groups of mages together. Fortunately, it seemed like he was about to find out.

After about twenty more minutes of constant shifting around, what remained under the hot, intense summer sun was a large "division" of tanks, a smaller one of off-tanks, and an absolute ton of miniscule groupings of mages, support, and healers, sometimes mixed in with one another, but all consisting of between five and ten apiece. The ranged DPS were also in with the mages now, including a man Zach took to be Ishina's father. His name was Frenk, but Zach only knew this because he heard Jimmy call it. The same was true for a strangely apologetic woman wearing an elegant, one-piece red dress named Emala.

"I won't let you down this time!" she cried out to him. Zach had no idea what that meant or why she'd said it.

Jimmy waved off her remark. "Nah, I won't let you down this time. I should'a told you not to spam those wisps on the boss last night. It was my fault what happened, not yours."

"No, it was mine!" she insisted. "But you're a darling, Jimmy."

Zach smiled. But there was a touch of sadness that he could feel within it, because it occurred to him that, in such a short time, Jimmy had become much closer with the adventuring community than he himself was. Zach couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing out. He didn't want to alienate himself from these people, but he was slowly coming to realize that it would be in his best interest not to get too close to them, since they were inevitably going to turn on him once he got more involved in activities they forbade.

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I wish that didn't have to happen, he thought, a pain actually flaring in his chest as he knew the day would come very soon. Donovan's going to be so upset.

For now, however, and until such a time as they would no longer have him, Zach was going to proudly identify as an adventurer. And to that end, his ears perked up and all the fatigue seemed to flee from his body as the boss battle at last neared.

"Comms on!" Jimmy shouted. "Everybody who's gonna be on the raid, turn your Comms on. This shit's about to go down!"

He seemed incredibly upbeat for someone who was practically begging on his knees for some booze a few hours ago. It was truly incredible just how emboldened and alive he became in the face of the adventuring world. Jimmy was probably going to live the life here that Zach wished he could live. In a way, however, neither of them would get what they truly wanted. Zach wanted to be a free, careless adventurer, and Jimmy wanted to go home. But this was the hand he'd drawn, and so be it.

Once the World Eater is killed, if I'm still alive, I'll be free…

Making the facial gestures required to activate his Comm, Zach simultaneously accepted the invitation to join the raiding party, causing the names of more than a hundred adventurers—as well as some guild members from Children of Order—to begin popping up above their heads in green lettering. They were now visible to Zach wherever they happened to be, as even while behind a wall, he could see the outline of their body. The last time he'd joined a raiding party like this had been during the raid against the dragon. Hopefully, this would turn out to be a bit easier.

It sure looks a bit easier.

To be fair, this so-called "Mare of the Primordial Void" was in fact a daunting, intimidating-looking creature. It was incredibly large, standing more than two stories tall, and its skin was pitch black but with an eerie purplish hue that was only occasionally visible depending on the direction of the light. It also had a red glow coming from inside its mouth as though it concealed a bright ruby projector within the confines of its jaw.

But it was no Ziragoth. That was for sure. Compared to that Gods-cursed dragon, this thing was basically just a cute pony.

I shouldn't underestimate it, he reminded himself. I know better.

From what Olivir and Kolona had explained to him, Ziragoth wasn't even a superboss as everyone had originally called it. It had turned out to be something called a "God Boss," which was apparently worse or whatever. This would likely turn out to be just a superboss—or maybe not. The truth was that Zach had no idea. But whatever it happened to be, he decided to treat this with the seriousness a T9 deserved. To do anything else would risk his and others' lives.

Zach laughed quietly to himself—but also nervously. Because he realized he was starting to sound a bit like Mr. Oren.

With his Comm now turned on, things began immediately. "All right, everyone," Jimmy said. "Here's how we're gonna play this. So, first I'm just gonna go over what I suspect is about to happen, and when I do, ya'll should understand why we got you in so many different groups. But don't worry. This is gonna be easy. We got this."

"That sounds wonderful, but Jimmy, could you perchance start from the beginning?" asked the humble, kind, but deceptively strong voice of Miss Britethorn. Zach looked over to her. The poor old woman was absolutely soaked in sweat, though she gave off no sign that it bothered her. She, like her husband, Frederick, wore very heavy, massive suits of bronze-colored armor, each with a huge two-handed weapon sheathed on their backs. Considering they were rumored to be nearing two-hundred years of age—and were confirmed to be the oldest living, non-vampire adventurers—they were both in excellent shape.

"I'd be happy to," Jimmy replied. "I'm guessing you want me to go over the whole elemental shift thing again, right?"

If Miss Britethorn replied in the affirmative, Zach was unable to hear it among nearly a hundred voices all calling out their agreement. Zach also voiced his desire to hear it again, as the only time Jimmy had actually explained it to anyone other than Mr. Oren had been during the time everybody was running around looking for him and there were still civilians in the area in need of rescue.

"Okay, so…where do I start?" Jimmy mused aloud. But if the question was rhetorical, Mr. Oren decided to answer it anyway.

"Jimmy, maybe you should begin with a formal definition of what it actually is and then explain the two possibilities that you described to me."

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"Oh yeah, good idea." Jimmy cleared his throat. When he spoke, the adventurers remained silent as though captivated by him. "Okay, so uh, everybody listen up. Here's the deal about elemental shift. So, in some of the games—I mean some of the simulations I've run through, every now and then you get a boss that has this really annoying ability where, if you hit it with a certain element or damage type enough times, it becomes immune to that type. But that's not elemental shifting exactly. What makes something an elemental shift is when the dude you're fighting actually becomes the element you were hitting it with."

"Becomes the element?" Zach asked.

Jimmy, who stood on the other end of the street, cupped his hands over his face as if to filter out the sun as he regarded Zach. "Yeah. It basically takes on properties of that element. So like, after I beat up the T9 with my poisons for a bit, its entire body turned green and it started gassing up the whole market square with poison."

"Yeah, I saw that, actually," Zach said. "On my way over here."

"And does this immunity last for the rest of the fight?" Lienne inquired, chiming in. She was currently grouped in with a bunch of mages Zach had never seen before—or at least only vaguely recognized.

"Good question, Lienne. That's actually where the two possibilities I was talking about come into play." At this, the adventurers once more became silent as they listened to him speak. "So, in most of the simulations I've run through, elemental shift is only permanent until the boss shifts again. Meaning, if ya'll hit it with fire enough times while it's gone poison, it'll switch to fire, turn red, and poison will hurt it again like it did before. This is how it goes in like eighty percent of the cases where you see this. Actually, probably more like ninety."

Jimmy paused for a second as though to ensure everyone was following along. He did not show even the slightest hint of nervousness or stage fight as a hundred eyes all trained on him. But Zach was one of the very few people who knew why this happened to be. He, along with only a small handful of others, knew that Jimmy's comfort in this sort of situation was born form spending many hours on ancient-Earth internet playing what he'd called "RPG games" with his friends online. Zach still found this so hard to both comprehend and believe. That the life-and-death dangers of the world had once been nothing more than a toy that people played for fun: something called the Nintendo Box Station X, assuming Zach was correctly recalling the name Jimmy had spoken.

The biggest, baddest raid bosses of his time were just fun little images on his "computer Nintendo" or whatever you call it. It's hard to believe, but it's true.

After a brief pause, Jimmy continued his explanation. "Every now and then, you have to deal with the other type—and it's actually really rare. Only once in a blue moon, when the devs are either being lazy or just assholes, do you get one of those fucked-up raids where bosses gain perma-immunities throughout the fight. You usually see this more in offline g…uh, offline simulations. Like Shin Megami Tensei III had one of those. Oh, shit, that guy was hard as hell. I had to reload my save so many times."

"Reload your save?" Zephyr asked.

Jimmy sighed audibly over the Comm. "It's…an Earth thing. Maybe I'll talk about it some other time. The point is that there are two ways I think this could go down. If it's the more common way, then all the formations we just set up won't matter. We can burn the boss down in like two minutes as long as we're careful in how we rotate our damage types."

"And if it's the second type?" asked a determined-sounding Ophelia Graven, who Zach recalled was the guild leader of the adventuring guild, Boss Rush.

"If it's the second type," Jimmy replied, "that's why you're all set up the way you are. Fire with fire, ice with ice, and so on. Same for those of you who've got elemental resistance buffs. Me and Lord Oren figured out it's best to organize everybody by their strongest damage type. That way we can make use of all hundred-plus of you by optimizing for what you're best at."

"Ahh, so that's why we've been standing out here sweating our asses off for all these hours," Rian said over the Comm.

"Well, yeah, obviously. Why, what did you think we were doing?"

The sound of a slap came from somewhere in the distance, but there was no further reply from Rian. Zach concealed a chuckle. This meant he was probably going to say something truly vile but he was stopped by someone before he could do so—probably Lienne, but it could've also been Seiley, too.

"Jimmy," Mr. Oren said, "why don't you explain to everyone why you think we're more likely to face the latter type of boss."

"Oh, snap, I forgot. Thanks, Lord Oren." He briefly paused to twist the cap open on a bottle of water, which he quickly drank. "So yeah, even though the first type is way more common, I think we're gonna be dealing with the worse kind here. Not just 'cause the boss is T9, either. But because when I hit it with poison too many times, it physically changed in ways I don't see it reverting from. Like, it actually got bigger and shit. It wasn't just the change in skin color. I think each time we strike this thing with enough of one damage type, it's gonna get more powerful, its stats will go up, and it'll gain new abilities that it can then keep until we either kill it, it kills us, or we reset."

"So to clarify," Zephyr said, "the physical changes it undergoes is the basis for you thinking it will likely be this 'second type' you're speaking about?"

"That and just my basic intuition," Jimmy replied. "It just seems like it."

"Is there any way you can elaborate further?"

Jimmy again paused, and Zach watched him exchange a brief look with Mr. Oren, who nodded at him. "Well, in its base form," he continued, "I noticed it only had three very simple, very basic attacks: a stomp, a bite, and eye lasers. To me, that doesn't seem like a whole lot for a T9, you know? I feel like there's no way that can be. This thing's definitely got a bunch more up its sleeve than just that. And I'll be real with you guys: I got a feeling that this is gonna be, like, the first actual, real raid boss most of ya'll have ever encountered till now."

Hearing this, Zach finally felt a small pinch of nervousness rising within himself. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone else beat him to it. Alixa, making almost the exact same remark Zach was about to make, called out, "You said this was going to be easy. This sounds like something even worse than Ziragoth!"

"Chill," he replied to her, "it's fine no matter what ends up happening. Also—and I'm sorry if this sounds disrespectful and whatnot—but Ziragoth wasn't shit, ya'll just bad. Anyway, let's just say I'm right and it really is the second type: it's still gonna be okay. People, just trust me on this, all right? Oh, and you know what else? I just decided right now we're gonna try cheesing it first anyhow."

"The fuck does that mean?" Donovan barked over the Comm, finally deciding to get involved. He was joined in by Maric and a good number of other adventurers.

"Did he just say 'cheese?'" snickered Reni Sarwin.

Zach was also confused. But by this point, he was used to Jimmy saying strange things or speaking with strange lingo. The others not so much. They became frustrated and started demanding he explain.

"Hey, uh, Jimmy," Rian said over the Comm. "For those of us here who were not born in an underground colony on Earth, you mind telling us what the hell that means?"

"It's a gamer word," Jimmy said. "It just means…don't worry what it means, actually. I'm not stopping to explain everything I say to a bunch of noobs. If you don't know what that word means, well, GG."

"GG?" an adventurer near Zach whispered off-Comm. "What's that mean?"

"No fuckin' idea," Donovan growled, also off-Comm. "Kid's speaking like he's possessed by a demon."

Not everyone was confused, though. There was exactly one other person who knew what he was trying to say, and it wasn't Zach or Tena. No, it was Mr. Oren, who somehow just automatically understood what he meant, likely because he was clearly the smartest person on the raid and had figured it out based solely on context clues that Zach—and everyone else—had somehow missed.

"Based on usage, tone, and prior context, I'm guessing he's using the word 'cheese' as a verb to mean 'succeed in something deliberately crafted to be difficult via a roundabout, unintended means.' And from the dismissive tone of voice in which he said 'GG', it's probably the equivalent of: 'deal with it.' Is this correct, Jimmy?"

Jimmy made something that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a gulp. "Y-yeah," he said. "You're smart as hell, dude. For real. How the hell did you know that?"

Mr. Oren adjusted his cat-eye glasses. "It was obvious. So, how do you intend to 'cheese' the boss?"

"Well, it's probably not gonna work, but I'm just gonna have Zach go at it alone and see if he can solo it with his tiger mount. It probably won't work, but even if it doesn't, we might be able to chip away some of its HP if we stack DS and HOTs."

All at once, more than a hundred sets of eyes shifted in Zach's direction along with anxious-sounding feet, which turned towards him. Even as they did so, Zach worried his jaw would not only drop, but fall off his face and land on the ground as he realized what was being asked of him—or partially realized. In truth, he barely even understood what the hell Jimmy had just said let alone what the implications of it happened to be. All he knew was that he was once again being asked to do something ridiculous by a raid leader. Last time, it was to tank the dragon.

And now? Now, he was being asked to do…well, something. None of what Jimmy just said made sense to him, though.

He moaned. "Not this again."

******

Another fingernail was pulled, this time from his thumb, and the man screamed, the sound of it so horrific that even after all he'd been through, Vim was considering showing him mercy. For all his bluster about wanting to do the same to the enemy that had been done to him, actually being in here and presiding over the torture of another…it was not to his taste.

"Major Kenth Baxtra," Vim said, glancing down at the file on the desk. "That's your name, correct?"

"It is, you despicable fucking Gnome!" he screamed. His fingers were bloodied, his eyes bruised, and he was missing three teeth. "You'll pay for what you did to our king and our people! The Gods will avenge us!"

Vim sighed, though not in response to the man's invective but because Fylwen appeared to be growing impatient. She was leaning against the wall here in this dark interrogation room that had originally served as an intelligence bunker in central Shadowfall Coast.

"I grow tired of this human," she said. "Let us remove an eye or perhaps a testicle and see if he feels like speaking."

"Can we not?" Vim asked.

She glared at him. "Oh? Is that a degree of softness I detect in you, Sir Alazar?"

"Yeah, but never from the waist down."

"From the…?" Her glare deepened. "You vulgar little man!"

Vim choked out a laugh. "I am what I am." Walking over to the table, where the level-1 human was handcuffed and shackled, Vim took a seat across from him. "Look, I don't want to be in here doing this. If you just tell us where the Guild of Gentlemen's surviving members are hiding in the city, we can let you go."

"Indeed," Fylwen said. "Should you provide the information we want, your life shall be spared."

The man, Kenth Baxtra, recoiled in his chair, his teeth actually chattering with fear. "You're lying!"

Vim shook his head. "I'm not. She is, clearly. She definitely intends to kill you. I don't."

He recoiled further. "I'll never betray my allies to an Elvish whore! A filthy, vile Elvish—"

Vim ducked as the man's head sailed over his own head before bouncing off the wall behind him and landing on the stone floor. Outraged, he stood up, threw out his arms, and shouted. "You fucking moron! He was our best lead!"

"He disrespected me. And unlike you, he is fully human. That is a sin I cannot forgive."

Vim slapped both his palms against the wall hard enough to leave an imprint in the stone. "Fylwen, if you're just going to kill everyone we interrogate as soon as they insult you, then wait outside! Gods, woman! That's the eighth one!"

"Tenth," she corrected.

"Oh, excuse me!"

This was so frustrating. The city was putting up more resistance than they'd expected given the death of their king, and nothing short of finding the highest-ranked members of the Guild of Gentlemen embedded deep within the city was going to pacify the resistance that had begun springing up. Incredibly, the ordinary people that lived here were sheltering and actively concealing the leveled guild members who had failed to escape with their brethren and retreat back to Tomb of Fire.

"We need Lord Oren," Vim said. "I'd bet anything that kid would know how to get these people to talk."

Fylwen's lips contorted so as to give off a look of disgust. "Have you not heard? He's gone adventuring with the boy and my daughter. Imagine that! He simply abandoned his post to go play with some horse in Faded Island."

"I know, right? What a fucking prick. But we need him. Where is Lord Kolorn Besh? I need to shout at him."

"Don't bother," Fylwen said. "I've already spoken with the man several times. He himself cannot seem to recall Lord Oren."

This wasn't good. The man was disobeying his own guild leader. And to be honest? Vim couldn't blame him for doing so. As more reports came in detailing just how badly the Lords of Justice had actually performed in combat, it was beginning to seem like Alex Oren was the only member of their guild who could actually wield a sword properly, let alone display any semblance of competence on the battlefield. He'd gone from a mere asset to the most powerful, respected, and important figure in his guild solely due to a single battle.

Had it not been for his and his actions alone, the Lords of Justice would be disgraced for how miserably they'd been defeated. Yet because of Lord Oren taking down more than a dozen members of the Guild of Gentlemen all on his own, the narrative emerging in the media was one that was a bit more balanced if not slightly tilting towards the negative—which was still better than the catastrophe they would have faced. Lord Oren's heroic stand would now spare the Lords of Justice from collapsing under the weight of its failure. So of course the kid was going to do whatever he wanted from now on. He was worth more than his whole guild combined. They needed him far more than he needed them. Even still, it was really shitty of him to run off at a time like now.

"I need him here," Vim grumbled. "I need Zach, too. I thought we'd be fine without him, but the situation's changed."

"Don't even get me started on him or my daughter!" Fylwen said in a huff. "Oh, the absolute audacity of them both."

Vim scratched his head. "Wait, I thought you were fine with them leaving?"

"At first, yes," Fylwen said with a nod. "And so were you. But then, when I attempted to recall them, they both ignored me."

"Same. I had no problem with them leaving at first, but now I can't even reach them to demand they come back."

Right now, Kalana more so than Zach was badly needed in Shadowfall Coast. Despite the ferocious racism its inhabitants displayed to everyone who wasn't human, they for some reason did not extend this attitude towards Kalana Vayra. The girl was incredibly popular and had taken photographs with numerous inhabitants and their children, cementing her as a friendly, deeply caring figure.

As strange as it was, what they really needed to keep the peace—and to prevent more level 1s from needlessly dying—was to have her here so they could cry on her shoulder and tell her how sad they were feeling or whatever bullshit they needed to get off their chest.

The people of the city had gone crazy, and that was no exaggeration. They had lost their Gods damned minds. Mothers were throwing their children out of windows, people were smashing every store, setting fires, looting indiscriminately. And a whole lot of them were charging at the Royal Roses, Lords of Justice, or the Elvish, basically begging to die.

Fortunately, after having to put down about a thousand level-1 humans—an unacceptable number given the collapse of the king—even Fylwen was starting to become disgusted with all the death. She'd ordered her Elves to restrain and arrest any level 1s who attacked them. Vim, for his part, had ordered his Royal Roses to do just that from the beginning.

Through it all, the people were screaming that they wanted to see Kalana. Why? Vim had no idea. For some reason, they had this idea that she would understand and empathize with their pain, and that she would be able to convince her mother to spare them their culture and their life, as it was she more so than any other whom they now feared. Mostly, though, with the Guild of Gentlemen's presence here now crushed, Vim thought they just wanted someone with authority to listen, and they wanted it to be a world-famous celebrity like Kalana Vayra.

This is all their own fault, Vim thought angrily. These people are the worst.

Vim looked at Fylwen. "Please, no more interrogations until we get Lord Oren back."

"Very well."

"I'm serious, Fylwen. It's getting to the point where these are just willful executions."

Vim turned away. What a mess things had become. In the old days, victory was victory, and war was binary: you either won the contest outright or you lost, and the judges declared the victor if for some reason it wasn't clear or decisive. Now, with conventional warfare having returned, nothing was clear anymore. It seemed like their problems were only first beginning.