"Sih-yah," Rob stated, slowly enunciating each syllable. "That's how you say 'chair' in Fiendish. 'Sih', then 'yah'."

"Sih-yah," Vevrandi repeated. "Sih-yah. Silla." She frowned. "Are you sure that this is the way to learn Fiendish Auto-Translate? I assumed that a Skill as significant as that would entail more unusual Prerequisites."

"He's taught it to all of us," Keira remarked. "You're just learning a language, not deciphering ancient runic script. It – ah, hold on a moment."

She unsheathed her greatsword. From above, an overgrown beetle-thing leapt from a tree, its pincers aimed at her neck. Keira swatted it out of the air without looking in its direction, stepping sideways to avoid the shower of innards that followed.

"As I was saying," she continued, returning her greatsword to its place on her back. "Stick to your lessons, and you'll know Fiendish Auto-Translate within a week or two."

Vevrandi sighed and shook her head. "I can't say I'm satisfied with this," she muttered. "If committing sounds to memory is all it takes to bridge the communication gap between Dwarf and Fiend, then why didn't we figure it out centuries ago?" She glanced at Rob. "How did you figure it out?"

Rob averted his eyes and adopted a somber, brooding expression. "It's...a long story," he said, as he gazed meaningfully into the distance. "I'd rather not discuss it right now."

The Dwarf immediately shut her mouth and fell silent. Rob breathed an internal sigh of relief; he didn't actually know what he would've told her if she'd pressed the issue. Revealing the whole Earth Expat thing would unravel the narrative he'd created thus far of the saintly Elatran Human willing to forgive Dwarves and Fiends alike.

Thankfully, Diplomacy had suggested a cheat code for whenever Vevrandi started asking too many questions: act sad and imply painful memories. She would fill in the blanks. As a Dwarf with a guilty conscience over her race's role in The Scouring, she wasn't going to open old wounds to satiate her curiosity. Not yet, anyway – the ruse wouldn't last forever – but Rob would cross that bridge when he got there.

"What's the next word I should know?" Vevrandi asked, in an awkward tone, trying to move past her imagined faux pas. "How about 'axe'? Or 'hammer'?"

Rob ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch as they walked. "Before that, how are you feeling? Got a headache?"

"No, I..." Vevrandi trailed off, rubbing her temples. "Huh. Now that you mention it, I do feel a slight headache coming on."

"Then we're done for the day. Wouldn't be healthy for you to continue. We'll resume lessons tomorrow."

"It's only a bit of pain," she asserted. "Do you take me for a feeblehearted Librarian? I've suffered far worse than this on the field of battle."

Rob gave her a joyless grin. "Out of curiosity, how much Vitality do you have?"

"51. It's standard for an Axewoman at my Level."

"Yeah, then like I said, we're done. I don't think 51 Vitality is enough for you to survive massive brain hemorrhaging."

The color drained from her face in a matter of seconds. Rob's grin slid away as he fixed her with an insistent glare. "That's one of the reasons why it took people so long to figure out Fiendish Auto-Translate," he murmured. "Those who got too close to the truth ran into...complications. So you'll learn it gradually, a certain amount of words each day, in a safe and controlled manner. If anyone besides me offers additional lessons, punch them in the face and run, because their generosity might melt your brain into a red slurry."

Diplomacy gave Rob an internal high-five as Vevrandi nodded insistently, appearing thoroughly petrified. the Skill congratulated.

What can I say? Rob almost smiled before remembering that Vevrandi was still looking at him. You're the best kind of bad influence.

Thank you, Rob said, sending Diplomacy a pulse of gratitude. I'd be lost without you as an advisor.

The Skill conjured an image of itself with a goatee and curly mustache. The image dissipated as Diplomacy powered down.

Rob left the Skill to its rest and focused on trekking through Fiendland's wilderness. It'd taken them the better part of a day to travel most of the way back to civilization. Waymark or the Fiends' advanced teleportation magic could've gotten them home immediately, but those were two cards that they were holding on, at least until the Dwarves proved trustworthy.

Riardin's Rangers weren't exactly thrilled to be traversing the great outdoors again – they'd gotten their fill of that on the journey from Elven territory to Human territory. The only saving grace was that they were able to witness Vevrandi's freaked-the-fuck-out expressions as she gaped at every weird sight in Fiend territory. Rob sympathized with her, but that wasn't going to stop him from enjoying the free show.

After a few hours of the poor woman jumping at shadows, Zamira seemingly took pity on her and attempted to make conversation. "Have you ever sojourned this far into Fiend territory?" she asked.

"No Dwarf has. Our skirmishes usually took place around the border." Vevrandi shuddered. "Shit. It's just starting to sink in. I've descended into the belly of the beast. Willingly. Titan preserve, what have I done? My soul is in grave danger, and it's far too late to turn back now."

Rob caught Zamira barely suppressing a wince. "Your soul is in good hands," she soothed. "I swear on my life that you will come to no harm."

Vevrandi let out a hollow laugh. "We'll see. No Fiend has ever shown our kind mercy before."

Because you were at war and couldn't communicate with each other, Rob wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Vevrandi's prejudices were hundreds of years old; he wasn't going to uproot them with arguments based in logic. Actions spoke louder than words, and he already had a few plans in mind.

Hours later, Magnar City finally came into view. It was the closest city to the Fiend-Dwarven border. Vevrandi gasped as she laid eyes on it, officially becoming the first Dwarf in history to see what Fiend civilization looked like. "Their dwellings," she breathed. "They glitter. Like gemstones."

Rob gave her a few seconds to soak in the sights. A good first impression could go a long way. Once Vevrandi had been sufficiently awestruck, he tapped her on the shoulder, breaking her out of her trance. "Ready to head inside? They've got free donuts for any newcomers."

The axe-wielding warrior woman, Level 42 and with a lifetime of combat experience under her belt, froze as if she was a child undergoing stage fright. Vevrandi glanced at Elder Alessia, beseeching assistance. "Are you sure they won't notice me?" she asked. "Fiends can discern a person's race by their soul. They may be accustomed to your presence, but not mine."

"We'll be keeping to the less-traveled back streets," Alessia stated, waving her hand dismissively. "And in this instance, your height is an advantage. The Fiends won't notice your soul if our bodies are obscuring yours. Simply keep to the center of our group and refrain from making a sound – that is all."

"It isn't far to Magnar City's Teleportation Crystal," Zamira consoled. "The Grand Overseers will provide you safe haven once we reach them."

Vevrandi wasn't convinced, but to her credit, she trudged on regardless, crossing into the city like she was treading on an active minefield. Luckily, it was late in the day, and the streets were relatively empty. Operation Bodyblock The Shortie quickly proved to be a resounding success, as no Fiend looked twice at their Party, taking the group of Elves in stride. Rob, with his trusty hood and Sinner's Shroud equipped, was equally overlooked.

Hmm, he thought. This won't do. From Vevrandi's perspective, she wasn't observing Fiend civilization – she was surviving it. She'd be just as scared when she arrived at the Teleportation Crystal as she was now, even if nothing bad happened. The Dwarf needed verifiable evidence that the Fiends weren't crazed monsters who'd betray them at the drop of the hat.

"Psst," Rob whispered, the group turning to face him. "Hey, guys. Take Vevrandi to that corner, where it's out of sight. I've got a point to prove."

"Rob," Elder Alessia started, in a wary tone. "What are you doing?"

"Just trust me," Rob said, saying the second-most untrustworthy line in the English language. "I got this," he continued, saying the #1-most-untrustworthy line. He faced Vevrandi, locking eyes with her. "Do you still think that I'm a prisoner of the Fiends?"

She jerked back for a moment, her countenance rapidly settling into one of determination. "Truthfully? Yes. You're skulking about like a rat in a trap. I know part of that is for my benefit, but it does little to reassure me, nonetheless."

He snapped off a quick salute. "Read you loud and clear. As a rebuttal: check this shit out."

Before anyone could stop him, Rob dashed into the center of the street, drawing the attention of the ten-or-so Fiends milling about. Breathing deep, he lowered his hood, cupped his hands over his mouth, and shouted. "WASSUP, EVERYONE!" His voice echoed across the street. "WHO WANTS SOME MOTHERFUCKING AUTOGRAPHS?!"

Their reaction was instantaneous. The Fiends went from shocked to elated in a matter of seconds, rushing forward like he was giving out free candy. Rob put on a winning smile as the deluge of fanboyism washed over him. Several of the Fiends turned out to be people he'd Purged significant amounts of Corruption from; once he learned that, his smile became genuine. He summoned writing utensils from his Spatial Storage – earning a round of oohs and aahs – and soon enough, the Fiends were waving goodbye as they scampered away, holding autographs in their hands and will-wishes in their hearts.

Rob grinned at Vevrandi as he approached her hiding spot. The Dwarf was staring at him, utterly dumbfounded, far more than when compared to anything she'd seen in the Fiend wilderness. Elder Alessia had her head in her hands. Orn'tol and Malika were beaming at him, expressions of pure jubilation on their faces, and the rest of the group was suppressing laughter.

"Let me make this clear," Rob began, stretching his arms over his head as he addressed Vevrandi. "I'm a celebrity. A hero celebrity. Everyone knows that I invented Fiendish Auto-Translate – which is somehow not even my most notable accomplishment. It won't matter if the Fiends find out you're here, because as soon as I put in a good word for you, they'll switch to wondering what miracle of Diplomacy I'm about to pull off next."

"You're so very humble, too," Keira deadpanned, with a wry smirk.

"Subtlety wasn't working," Rob shrugged. "I bet our Dwarven friend feels a lot better after seeing the Fiends roll out the red carpet for me. Don't you, Vevrandi?"

She nodded mutely, still too flabbergasted to form a coherent response. Rob gave her a thumbs-up, choosing to interpret her lack of denial as a win.

For the sake of allowing Vevrandi to process her world getting flip-turned upside down, Rob refrained from putting on an encore performance as their group continued deeper into Magnar City. It didn't take them long to reach the station where the Teleportation Crystal resided. Considering how rare and limited in usage Teleportation Crystals were, Rob would've normally needed to book his appointment well in advance, but the Grand Overseers had notified the station ahead of time so his Party could cut ahead in line.

And even if they hadn't, Rob was Rob. Nepotism is great as long as it's working in my favor.

One teleport later, and Riardin's Rangers – with Vevrandi as tonight's special guest – were back in Acrastor City. She didn't seem especially shaken by the experience of being transported across miles of space, meaning she'd used Teleportation Crystals in the past. The realization set Rob at ease; it implied that Vevrandi's 'Commander' title wasn't just for show, and that she was likely someone of importance. If they could convince her of the Fiends' good will, her positive assessment would hold real weight in Dwarven society.

"Welcome to our base of operations," Elder Alessia stated, sweeping her arm to the side in a flourish. "The Grand Overseers will be contacting us shortly; they'll want to speak with you as quickly as possible. Be forewarned – they are a paranoid, contentious lot."

For the first time in hours, Vevrandi's lips quirked upwards into a smile. "So...they're politicians?"

Elder Alessia mirrored the Dwarf's expression. "Indeed."

Before anyone else could comment, a Fiend burst into the teleportation chamber, scaring the living daylights out of Vevrandi. The messenger gaped at her for a few seconds, then snapped to attention, remembering his duties. He turned to look at Riardin's Rangers.

Rob's breath caught in his throat. Whatever the messenger was about to say ended up being unnecessary.

Because with one look at the Fiend's intense gaze, Rob knew.

In a flash, he was out the door, activating Step of the Wind for added speed. Rob sprinted full blast down the winding corridors, mentally cursing himself as he ran. Why the fuck hadn't he set Waymark in the right spot? Even though he was mere seconds away, every prolonged instant felt like torture. Air whipped past his face, and he was dimly aware of the others trailing behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to slow down and wait for them. Meyneth partially solved the issue by activating Leap, clearing a hallway and catching up to Rob in one go.

Both of them rounded a corner, feet skidding on polished floor, muscles tensing as they spotted THE room. A pair of Fiend guards were posted outside. Rob and Meyneth blew past them without so much as a hello, practically kicking the door down in their haste.

And promptly hesitated. The next moment would decide so much. Hearts pounding in their chests, the two of them rallied their courage and cast Identify.

Vul'to

Level: 41

??? Level: 36

HP: ??? / ???

Status Effects: ???

Tears of relief welled up in Rob's eyes as he read the name that appeared on Vul'to's Status Screen. It didn't matter that the person staring at him with pleasant surprise was a Fiend. Vul'to was Vul'to, no matter what body his soul was stuck in. "Hey man," Rob said, his voice choking a little. "How's it been?"

Vul'to smiled, took a step forward, and fell flat on his face.

The rest of the Party caught up at that moment, bursting into the room in a hurry. There was a brief moment of silence as they cast Identity, followed by the cacophonous babbling of half a dozen concerned voices fighting for supremacy.

"My apologies," Vul'to said, as Meyneth rushed over to help him up. "Walking isn't the same. Limbs are...longer. Balance different."

Rob scratched his ears, an itch forming inside them. Something about Vul'to's speaking pattern sounded unsettlingly 'off' in a way that he couldn't pin down. Every word was parseable, but it was like listening to him through a static filter that was being turned up and down at random.

"Can you hear me?" Vul'to asked, a bit of worry creeping into his tone. "I think something's wrong with my voice. Tingles when I talk."

Elder Alessia and Vevrandi caught up next. The Dwarf – who was not at all happy to be out of the loop – frowned at Vul'to as she listened to him speak. "Are you teaching that Fiend the Auto-Translate variant for Common?" she asked. "His wording is sporadic."

A lightbulb clicked on inside Rob's head. "Vul'to," he began, looking up at his now-taller friend. "Try to focus on speaking in Common. Repeat each word in your mind before saying it out loud. I think..."

He glanced at Alessia and Vevrandi. The Elder took the hint and led Vevrandi away, citing vague 'personal reasons' for why Riardin's Rangers wanted privacy, and that she would introduce the Dwarf to the Grand Overseers personally. Once they were well out of Heightened Senses range, Keira closed the door and nodded. "Danger Sense is quiet. We're safe."

"Speak in Common," Vul'to muttered. "Speak in Common. Speak in Common. Speak in Common." He poked his mouth as if examining a foreign entity. "Was that all right? It seemed normal to me near the end."

Rob held up a hand, forestalling any further comments so he could explain what had happened. "You were speaking in Common and Fiendish at the same time, alternating your words, like some form of broken Spanglish. Auto-Translate managed to express your intent regardless, but it wasn't happy with having to pull double duty."

Meyneth clenched her hands into fists. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, eyes lowered. Her tone was subdued, sounding closer to how she used to act around Riardin's Rangers when they first met. "I am to blame for-"

Vul'to hissed in pain, clutching his chest. Riardin's Rangers collectively had a minor freakout as the former-Elf shook his head and put a disarming smile on his face that wasn't at all convincing. "Not to worry," he assured. "The Soul Eater is gone. I dealt with him in the mindscape that exists between souls."

"You dueled the Soul Eater in your mind?" Orn'tol said, with a gasp.

"Well, yes." Vul'to paused, realization belatedly spreading across his features. "Apologies once again. I forgot that you wouldn't have known about the mindscape. My memories are somewhat...jumbled about at the moment. Had to endure the Soul Eater's attempt to snuff out my consciousness." His hand, still clutching his chest, trembled. "He lived for a very long time. I saw everything. The days felt like years, and the years felt like days. So much death..."

A dark pallor fell over him as Vul'to stared into nothing, his eyes vacant. The moment lasted just long enough for Riardin's Rangers to start freaking out again – right before Vul'to suddenly snapped back to attention. "It's of no importance," he said, a bit too cheerfully. "Forget about me; you've clearly been busy while I slumbered! Was that a Dwarf I noticed being pulled away by Elder Alessia?"

The rest of the Party exchanged glances. Vul'to's smile wavered, silently pleading for them to accept the change of subject and move on. Rob decided to compromise by discussing a different topic that Vul'to had tried to skirt past. "It's a long story. First, though, how's your chest feel? Does it still hurt?"

Vul'to winced. "Admittedly, yes. I honestly can't tell you why, though. Burns like fire. A roaring conflagration in my – oh." He blinked several times, eyes rapidly moving left-to-right. "I don't mean to alarm anyone, but quite a few system messages just appeared, none of which I recognize. There's one regarding an ongoing integration, another stating that a branching path has been delineated..."

His stiffened as if a rod had been inserted into his spine. Vul'to chuckled, looking at Meyneth with an almost kindly gaze. "Please catch me when I fall."

She was already moving when Vul'to collapsed, his body sinking like a puppet with its strings cut. As Meyneth grabbed hold of him and gently set him down onto his bed, the rest of Riardin's Rangers sprang into something between action and panic. Zamira flung the door open, instructing the guards posted outside to call for Healers and Soul Surgeons. Malika examined Vul'to intently, her eyes glimmering with Sense Mana. Keira paced in a circle, hands twitching toward her greatsword. Rob just stood there, not knowing what to do, wondering if there was anything he could kill to bring a sense of normalcy back into his world.

Everyone froze in place when Orn'tol uttered two short words. "Status Screen." One-by-one, they cast Identify, mixed feelings flowing through them as they read what had changed.

Vul'to

Level: 41

Soul Guardian Level: 36

HP: 700 / 700

Status Effects: Unconscious, Integrating (Near-Completion), ANOMALY, ???

--

"We can't go," Rob stated, his exhaustion clear on display.

Vevrandi clenched her fists and held her ground. "I spoke with the Fiends' Grand Overseers. You were right, Human – they turned out to be reasonable folk. Our talks went well."

"Cool. Good to hear."

Vevrandi waited, expecting him or Keira to say more. When they didn't, she pressed on, a plaintive edge to her words. "They agreed that a diplomatic delegation should be sent to Dwarven territory at once. You, and however many of your friends you wish to bring. On my life, I guarantee that any ally of Rob the Human will be granted safe passage, even the Fiends."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind for when we visit. In like a month."

"Stonewarden Grant would very much appreciate it if you visited now."

"I don't..." Rob sighed. "I don't care, okay? My friend is sick. He needs us here."

A thin sheen of sweat began to glisten on Vevrandi's forehead. "Are there not Healers in Fiend territory who can tend to him?"

"It's complicated." Understatement of the year, Rob thought. Vul'to was currently drifting in and out of consciousness. From what bits they could glean from him when he occasionally surfaced, his body was undergoing some sort of 'integration process' as the system tried to reconcile an Elven soul in a Fiend body. The Vul'to side of that equation was winning out – speaking Common was easier for him, and he'd regained his Levels and stats – but that didn't mean his condition was guaranteed to continue improving. Neither the Healers nor Soul Surgeons had ever seen anything like this before. No one knew what the fuck was going to happen.

As Rob got lost in his head, Keira was content to stand completely still, fixing their Dwarven compatriot with an impassive stare. Vevrandi fidgeted in place, the silence weighing heavy on her composure. "What if your other Party members stay, then?" she posited. "They can assist your friend while you meet with the Stonewarden. Both our needs are met, and everything is resolved in a timely manner."

"Absolutely not," Keira flatly stated. "We aren't sending Rob into Dwarven territory alone. And before you complain that we aren't trusting the Dwarves' good intentions – I wouldn't send Rob down the street alone at this point. Trouble has an odd way of finding him." She paused, then shrugged. "Of finding all of us, really."

Vevrandi gulped. "Then why don't-"

"Oh my goooooood." Rob ran his hands down his face. "Look, you've made first contact with the Fiends, and it was friendly. Report that back to the Stonewarden. Tell him that his Human pen pal will be delighted to meet with him when everything here gets properly un-fucked. Isn't that enough? Why is it so important that I meet the Stonewarden as soon as possible?"

A note of pure distress escaped from Vevrandi's throat. Rob and Keira stared at her, unease rising within them. "...Answer the question," Keira ordered.

Vevrandi glanced upwards, as if seeking divine intervention, her posture gradually crumpling in defeat. "I withheld how much the Merfolk revealed about your journey into their territory," she began, sounding positively lifeless. "While you were there, a Great Leviathan was Corrupted by the Blight. And just as it was set to ravage Merfolk territory...you turned it aside. Used some unforeseen ability to send it scurrying away like a wounded rat. Then, before you left, you told the Merfolk that you could cure Corruption. That your demonstration with the Leviathan was a proof of concept."

Rob and Keira flinched as Vevrandi lowered her head and glared at them with eyes of unfettered desperation. "Please tell me you were telling the truth."