Before he could go, however, Hirrus had to sift carefully through the gear available to him. A lot of it went into a pile for Alric to have a turn digging through simply because it was made of metal. His Electric Field ability would punish him for using those items, and compared to the other options with similar effects, it was dramatically more potent.

Unfortunately, that included much of the gear he’d gained.

Several of his foes had been heavily armored, even if they had somehow made them to look like something else. Most notably, Orlina’s legendary-level pants contained chainmail, excluding them from his options.

Hirrus wasn’t completely out of luck, however. There were still plenty of items available.

The woman in red had been wearing all cloth items. The man who had accompanied her had worn armor made of bone, making most of them usable as well. Clive’s gear had been largely scale armor - once it had shed the illusion - but Orlina’s other gear had been mostly thin and flexible leathers.

Despite the restriction, plenty remained in hand to work with.

Hirrus' goal at this point was to diversify his statistics spread. His current gear from Oskar all had BUR on it. There were numerous options of leather, hide, and cloth gear for other statistics. Orlina’s leather bracers were a more potent option than the cloth gloves from the woman in red, since the cloth gloves had a special ability that rewarded healing allies. Hirrus didn’t anticipate finding many allies once he was in the room with Last of the Strong’s officers.

He kept the leather chest armor and pants from Oskar’s set, as well as Clive’s Cosmic Barrette as well. But he added to it the bone armor boots, and one of the rings from the woman in red. He also replaced the weapon gem in his icy greataxe with the black pearl from Orlina’s single-edged sword.

Hirrus felt better. His statistics looked much more balanced now. While it would diminish some of his physical damage and consistency, it would let him leverage his suite of Arcana to much more devastating effect.

Level 6

HP (Hitpoints): 66750

BUR (Burliness): 1443

SUP (Suppleness): 991

TEN (Tenacity): 2031

ATT (Attenuation): 1001

RES (Responsiveness): 1056

GLE (Gleylike): 1845

His secondary stat spread was also a lot less one-dimensional as well. His double strike chance had increased up to twelve percent, though Iron Typhoon would overwrite it while active. His cast speed increase was up to fifteen percent, and his attack speed had increased to thirty percent.

It had come at a cost, though.

His critical hit chance was now twenty-five percent, while his damage increase on such a hit was now fifty-five percent. His cleave damage was also down to thirty percent now.

Hirrus told himself that a more balanced spread of statistics would be more valuable to him in the long run. As he had learned - both from example and first hand - focusing too tightly on a single path could only end with him meeting a barrier that he couldn’t outmuscle.

He just wished he had more options.

If only he had more time.

What distressed him most, however, was how the equipment made him appear.

Hirrus looked down at himself. He was wearing tan leather lamellar armor with dark brown leather pants that went together well, but his boots were carved bone, ivory-colored and polished to a shine. On his wrists were thick leather bracers that were black as night in comparison to the rest of his clothing. And then the sparkling jeweled barrette stood out against his dark hair. On his left hand remained his own plain silver wedding band, but on his right the ring he’d taken was a blood-red metal band with an inlaid pattern of thorned vine in an abalone shell. And none of it was even close to matching the icy greataxe with a matte black pearl jammed into the center of the weapon’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Alric asked while he dug through the collection of metal castoffs.

“I look…” Hirrus said, and then stopped, looking over at Barin and Dahlia, who regarded him and then grimaced. He knew they were thinking the same, so he just said it. “I look like an adventurer.”

Alric let out a bark of laughter, and then looked up to see that no one else was sharing in his mirth. “Oh god, you’re serious.”

“Clive had something on his gear - And Orlina too - that changed its appearance,” Hirrus said, gesturing at the pants Alric was already wearing. “Do you know what Arcana allows that?”

“Not Arcana,” Alric said, holding up a pair of metal gauntlets, examining them. “It’s called Charm. There’s some wizard guy you can unlock with a mid-level quest chain who can Charm your gear to make it look how you want. They, uh, they call it the real endgame. Getting your gear Charmed to look good.”

“So this is some challenge,” Hirrus guessed, looking down at his weird outfit with distaste. “A heroic errand that we can’t afford right now.”

“Nah,” Alric said, “it’s apparently just talking to the guy, going and fetching some Charm tool from some level thirty dungeon, and then taking it back to him. It costs some gold to get it done after that, but it’s not really a huge deal.”

“Hm.” Hirrus grimaced at the hideous red ring on his hand.

“It is, uh, a bit time consuming,” Alric added, looking up at him. “And I don’t know about trying to duo a level thirty dungeon. Even if you’re a match for a level-capped raid team, it’ll be a huge time sink.”

“We have other matters to attend to,” Hirrus agreed, forcing himself to look away from his equipment. “If we had time to tend to my offended sensibilities, then we would have time to lurk outside their doorway and continue picking them off.”

“Right,” Alric said, though he grimaced as he said it. The adventurer settled on the legendary gloves from the woman in red, and was examining them with an almost depressed look in his eyes.

Hirrus almost asked what was wrong, but he caught himself before he said it. Of course the gear was depressing for Alric. Sure, it was an embarrassment of riches compared to what he’d had before, but what was the man about to do?

He was following Hirrus to his death.

When Alric died, all of this gear would be gone. And when he came back, Hirrus would be back to his old self, unable to help him.

Alric had the ability to just leave with this equipment. Hirrus was not forcing him to march into hell with him. But Alric had decided to stand by him anyway.

“In all my days,” Hirrus said at last, reaching over and putting a hand on Alric’s shoulder, “I have never met an adventurer worth knowing. Not until now.”

“What?” Alric looked up at him, confused. “What’s got you all sentimental all of a sudden?”

“I didn’t think about what you were sacrificing,” Hirrus said, gesturing at the gloves Alric was examining. “I’ll ask you again: are you sure you want to come with me?”

Alric laughed, a deep-throated chuckle. “Fuck, man.” He shook his head, then laughed again. “I thought I said something wrong. It’s just a game, man. This gear? This is just pixels to me. Don’t worry about it.” He flicked his hand dismissively, as if gesturing the gloves themselves away. “But it’s not every day that you come face-to-face with a real-life moral dilemma like this. That’s what I want out of this. I want to be able to say I was here. To say I did the right thing. Being on your side is worth more than a full set of legendaries.”

Hirrus found that answer to be deeper and more profound than he expected from the man. He’d mistaken him for a jokester. A young man who never took anything seriously. But he spoke with a strength of conviction that contrasted with the thin fuzz that passed for facial hair on his chin and upper lip.

“Thank you, Alric,” Hirrus said, trying to sound as earnest as possible. “You’re a good man. Better than most.”

“When I went off to college, my dad gave me a talk and said that if I could live my life by his advice, I’d be a better man than anyone else I’d ever meet.” Alric held up a plate armor cuirass and looking it over before struggling into it. “He was a high school drama teacher, so it was literally just the speech Polonius gives to Laertes. I’ve been bad at most of it, honestly. I dress like a punk rock hobo, I owe more than fifty grand for my tuition, and I’m sure as shit vulgar all the damn time. And ‘to mine own self be true’? He ate his words on that one real quick.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Still, there’s a bit I think you’d like in there.”

Hirrus nodded along, listening politely even though most of the words were entirely foreign to his ears.

“‘Beware of entrance to a quarrel’,” Alric said, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, reciting the words from memory, “‘but being in, bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.’” When Alric opened his eyes again he gave Hirrus a fierce grin. “Level difference notwithstanding, doomed or not, I intend to.”

Hirrus nodded, offering Alric a hand. The man took it, giving him a firm handshake before Hirrus helped him to his feet. They stood there a moment, looking at one another like there was more the other wanted to say, but they could not find the words.

As it stood, this was likely the last moment of calm they would have before engagement with Last of the Strong. Perhaps this was the last moment Hirrus would see Alric before he returned to his post as a guard in Yenon.

No wonder the words would not come.

There was nothing he could say that could express how thankful he was of the adventurer’s companionship and assistance.

How much he appreciated his friendship.

Hirrus turned away, looking to Barin and Dahlia for just a moment. He wondered if they too realized the gravity of the situation. Of the reality they were being spared.

“Are we ready, then?” Hirrus asked, finally, his voice thick with emotion he never let boil to the surface. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I don’t know how much more time can be spared before Last of the Strong find a way to escape the justice they deserve.”

Alric looked down, examining himself.

His outfit was worse than Hirrus' in terms of mismatched aesthetic. He wore a black metal cuirass, bright red leather boots, and the healer’s red gloves to match. It all looked horrendous with the bulky brown and blue pantaloons that had been Orlina’s legendary gear. His helmet was the skull-motif helm from the bone armor set.

“What do you think? Rich, but not gaudy?” Alric asked with a big stupid grin, turning a slow circle to show off the mismatched equipment. “I think I’ll fit in just right among the French scholars, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Hirrus said, though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.