By the time they passed the tree line and broke through the oppressive jungle, Zeke was tired, sore, and drenched in sweat. “Leather armor definitely wasn’t made for the jungle,” he muttered, adjusting the offending leather breastplate. The extra layer was bad enough in the sweltering heat, but the added humidity – and the sweat that came with it – made the leather gear chafe like crazy.

Abby, who’d been leading the way, snorted, saying, “Quit whining.”

“Whatever,” he spat, irritated at her lack of compassion. Behind him, Pudge was equally miserable. Bears were not tropical beasts, after all, and his thick pelt was working against him. Zeke could feel the cub’s irritability shining through their bond like a bonfire. “How the hell are you so comfortable in this heat?”

She glanced back at him with a smirk, saying, “A girl’s got to have her secrets, right?”

“Come on!”

Rolling her eyes, she stowed the hatchet she’d used to hack their path through the thick jungle. Then, she pulled a ring from one of her fingers and handed it back to Zeke. “Inspect that,” she said.

Zeke took the ring, which was an unadorned silver circlet. As simple as it seemed, he let out a gasp when he used his [Minor Inspection] skill. Text flashed before his eyes, describing the item’s effects:

Minor Ring of Climate Control (H) – A simple, magic ring created by a novice jeweler. Effect: Keeps the wearer’s body within a comfortable temperature range. Warning: does not work in extreme climates.

Zeke stared at it for a long moment before saying, “That’s just cheating.”

Abby laughed as he handed it back, then said, “They’re not that expensive. A lot of successful adventurers have them, but this one, I got from Julio. Same as the bags. Although, with your cottage, those aren’t really necessary for you, huh?”

“Not really,” he said, glancing at the satchel on Abby’s back. It wasn’t any bigger than a typical backpack, and aside from being made of leather, it followed the same general design of an Earth backpack. However, the space inside was almost three times bigger than the exterior would suggest – the result of an spatial manipulation enchantment. “In fact, there are hundreds of creature comforts you might want to look into getting when we get to Beacon. From retracting ropes to the climate control rings, they can make your life a lot easier – so long as you’ve got the money.”

Zeke’s eyes narrowed. Ever since he’d been awarded his mace, Voromir, he’d spent countless hours studying the underlying runes that gave the weapon its characteristic enchantments. Not only was it insanely durable, but it also adjusted its weight according to his strength. So, whether he was using one hand or two, it always felt the same, even when his strength had skyrocketed due to his levels and achievements. However, because he’d gotten so much stronger, the actual weight of the weapon had grown exponentially, giving his attacks that much extra momentum and power.

On the surface, it seemed like it would be a straightforward enchantment, but the underlying runes that drove it were anything but simple. It was comprised of thousands of interlocking, three-dimensional runes that were in turn covered in exponentially more glyphs and symbols. Some repeated, but others came out of nowhere, breaking up the pattern. And even as complicated as that was, he felt like there was a layer there he couldn’t even see, much less understand.

By comparison, the curses thrown at him by the trolls were like a child’s first attempts at drawing the alphabet. His runic rock grenades were even more primitive, barely even qualifying to be put in the same category – the result of fumbling in the dark more than actual skill. His artisan’s path helped, but it wasn’t a skeleton key for understanding. In order to unlock his potential – which he thought might be high, given how far he’d gotten without any help – he would need a teacher. Or failing that, more examples to study.

He shook his head, knowing that he was probably getting ahead of himself. So far, Zeke had only had to rely on himself – or Abby, to an extent. But to find some random stranger who might teach him more about runes and how they related to enchantments? That seemed like a tall order, especially considering that the artisans who held those secrets likely relied on them to make a living. Sharing their knowledge with a stranger would be akin to cutting themselves off at the knees, financially speaking.

But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Perhaps Abby’s guild could help. That seemed like the sort of thing such an organization would do. He only needed to join – something he’d decided was probably in his best interests anyway. They had resources to make him stronger, which was his ultimate goal. And with how Abby had reacted to him, Zeke thought he might make for a decent candidate.

Abby’s voice cut through his reverie as she said, “We should see Bastion just up ahead when we crest this hill.”

“Thank God,” Zeke said under his breath as they climbed the grassy slope. The heat was still as oppressive as ever, but without the dense foliage to break the wind, it didn’t seem quite as bad.

A couple of minutes later, their path led them to the apex of the hill, revealing a wide, shallow, and idyllic valley. A road, paved with actual stones, ran along its entire length, stretching all the way to the horizon, and planted in the center of the valley was a fort.

“That’s Bastion,” Abby said, her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. They’d been walking non-stop for hours, and she obviously felt the strain. Even Zeke was tired, though most of his discomfort was due to the heat, sweat, and chafing.

Zeke stopped beside his partner, studying the fort and the walled town that surrounded it. It wasn’t huge – maybe a mile across, at most – but it seemed busy enough, with caravans of wagons snaking their way in and out of the gates. The walls themselves were grey stone, the same as the medieval-style castle at its center, but most of the buildings within had been constructed of wood.

“It’s a waystation,” Abby explained. “You’ll see a few of these along the road that runs between Beacon and Salvation.”

“What’s with the names?” Zeke asked.

Abby shrugged, saying, “I guess when people first started being reborn into this world, they were thankful for a safe place to live. Back then, everything was wilder and a lot more dangerous. It still gets bad when you get away from civilization, which is the reason these waystations exist, but monsters hardly ever attack cities or towns anymore.”

It made sense. If Zeke’s sense of scale was even close to accurate, it would mean that it would take weeks – perhaps even months – for a caravan to travel from Beacon to Salvation. So, it seemed perfectly reasonable that safe places would spring up along the road so those traders could minimize their risks and have a place to resupply. They’d still have to sleep in the wilderness along the way, but a night or two of safety could make all the difference.

When Zeke commented just that, Abby said, “Plus it means there’s always help close by. Every waystation is run by a capable warrior. Most have a few dozen adventurers they can call upon in an emergency.”

“Didn’t seem to help those people when they were attacked by the drachnids,” Zeke mumbled. “I guess whoever leads Bastion couldn’t be bothered to save hundreds of people.”

“She could only do so much,” Abby said, shaking her head. “She’s only one person. That’s why the guild got contracted.”

Zeke shrugged, saying, “Only one person. That would hold a little more weight if we hadn’t dealt with the problem with just the two of us.”

Pudge chuffed indignantly.

“Fine, three of us,” Zeke amended, which seemed to mollify the bear cub. “And I get it, okay? We were probably stupid to even try it, and we were lucky to survive. But I’m level fourteen. You’re fifteen. There had to be some higher-leveled people who could’ve taken care of it.”

“But why would they?” Abby asked. “You need to understand something about this world. People don’t just help. Not out of the goodness of their hearts, at least. Those higher levels you’re talking about? Do you have any idea what it would take to get them to roll out of bed? Not a drachnid nest, I can tell you that.”

“Why? That was a level twenty-five elite,” Zeke said. “That should be worth it.”

Abby shrugged. “Maybe,” she said. “But nobody knew the queen or that champion had evolved. And even if they had, they still might not have bothered because the risk outweighed the potential reward. Not everybody has your ridiculous constitution or that broken skill that keeps you alive. I would’ve died a dozen times over if it wasn’t for you giving me the watered down version of [Leech Strike] through the [Mark of Companionship]. The bear, too. And if you hadn’t had the skill?” She shook her head again as she continued, “Look – I get it. I know your every instinct tells you to help people. But not everybody thinks like you.”

“You helped,” Zeke pointed out. Abby could’ve just taken the fangs she needed to prove that she’d accomplished her mission and run back to Beacon to collect her reward. But she hadn’t. She had stayed, and she’d fought something she had no business fighting, same as Zeke.

“Like us, then,” she said. “My point is that even higher levels can get swarmed. They can be overwhelmed. They can do a lot of really impressive things, but if they get caught by the wrong thing at the wrong time, they will die.”

“Seems selfish,” was Zeke’s response. “Cowardly. And it’s counterproductive.”

“I don’t disagree,” Abby said. Selfishness and cowardice aside, she’d seen the benefits of putting everything on the line. By doing so, she’d picked up an achievement and an impressive weapon. “But before we hit civilization, you need to understand just how abnormal your situation really is. Your stats are ridiculous, your primary skill is overpowered, and your weapon is…well, it’s crude but extremely effective. You can go toe-to-toe with a level twenty-five elite, which is something most people don’t even try without a significant amount of backup. On top of that, you’ve got your cottage, your spatial storage, and that looting ability.”

“You make it sound more impressive than it is,” Zeke said.

“If anything, I’m underselling it,” she argued. “I’ve been invited on missions just because of my [Makeshift Camp] skill, and it’s not nearly as powerful as your cottage. And that’s probably the least of your abilities.”

Zeke sighed. “Okay, so I’m super special,” he said. “So? Why are you making a big deal out of it?”

“Because I want you to understand that your perspective is skewed,” Abby stated. “You think people should just throw themselves at threats like those drachnids because you did it, and you came out on top, right? Well, most people would’ve been torn to bits before they made it halfway through that ravine. Heck, I’m pretty sure that even if Julio hadn’t turned on me, that group wouldn’t have been able to do more than just skirt along the edges and pick off a monster here and there until we had enough fangs. And Julio was level nineteen.”

“He was also a dick.”

“He was,” Abby agreed.

“And did you just say ‘heck’?” he asked.

She gave him a withering glare, then said, “Anyway. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t judge people too harshly for not doing what you can do.”

“I can’t excuse people for leaving other people to die.”

“Okay, then just keep it to yourself, then,” she said, compromising. “And when we get into Bastion, don’t go running your mouth about what you can do. We’ve got to be careful with this. Otherwise, we’re going to attract a lot of attention.”

“And?”

“And you’re going to end up getting stabbed in your sleep,” Abby said. “Not everyone here’s a saint. Most people are selfish assholes, actually. If they weren’t when they got here, this world, it has a way of twisting people around. Everything’s about survival of the fittest. And with the amount of wealth you’ve got hidden away in your cottage’s cellar…it could change someone’s life.”

“Fine,” Zeke said. “What do you suggest, then?”

“We go in, stay under the radar, and try to unload a few things so we can get you the essentials,” she said. “And some new clothes, maybe. Yours are a little…”

“Ripped to shreds?”

“Something like that,” Abby said, giving him a small smile. “And I’d like to eat something other than lizard or snake. I’ve been through here a few times, and I know a good inn.”

“What about Pudge? He going to cause any issues?” Zeke asked.

“Probably not,” she said. “People with taming skills aren’t exactly unheard of. It’s not like whatever you’ve got going with Pudge, but it’s close enough that people will assume you just have one of those skill. And he’s not too big yet. So, I don’t know. We could just put a leash on him…”

Pudge snorted at that suggestion.

Zeke grinned. “I’ve got to follow all these rules, so you do too, buddy,” he said, bending down to scratch behind the bear’s ears. “No leashes unless absolutely necessary, though. I promise.”

With that, the three set off down the hill towards Bastion.