“This all feels so weird,” Zeke said, tugging at the shirt in the middle of the tailor’s shop. The top was loose-fitting and white, without any decorations aside from the laces down the front, but it suited him well. Coupled with the fitted breeches and the knee-high boots he wore, he cut a dashing, if simply dressed, figure. Or at least that was Abby’s impression, biased though it was.

“Because you haven’t worn proper clothes for a while?” she asked with a knowing smirk. “I did find you half-naked in ancient elven ruins, after all.”

He shrugged. “Weren’t a lot of tailors in the troll caves,” he said. “Come to think of it, I think the trolls’ loin cloths were probably made of human skin. You know, people leather.”

“Gross.”

“I agree,” he said. “One of the reasons I killed them all.”

His casual mention of troll genocide aside, Abby didn’t really know what to think of the man. Not only had he saved her life, but he was also the reason she’d been able to evolve her race. Because of Zeke, she had a clear path to level twenty-five – and that wasn’t even considering the other changes associated with the evolution. Heightened senses and better mana flow were only part of the story. Though she hadn’t actually gotten any stats from the transformation – those would come when she started leveling again, per the achievement associated with the evolution – she still felt stronger and more durable than at any time in her life. It was an out-and-out upgrade, and she had barely even scratched the surface of the benefits. It was no wonder Zeke had become such a monster.

Not for the first time, Abby found herself regretting the minor spat from the day before. Even at the time, she knew he hadn’t meant anything by his refusal of her offer to show him around the city. He was pragmatic to his very core, and he had simply wanted to tick the errands off his list; he wasn’t even thinking about a sight-seeing date. Likely, he didn’t even think of her as anything but his adventuring companion. Her curt reaction hadn’t been fair, and she knew it. But he’d still gone out and gotten her a gift by way of apology, and for something he had no business apologizing for.

And what a gift!

The bow was far beyond any weapon she’d ever held, save perhaps for the hatchet she’d gotten as a quest reward for killing the drachnid queen. However, even if the two items were on par in terms of quality, their worth wasn’t even close to equal in her mind. After all, the bow was her main weapon, and that single piece of equipment would likely be just as big of an increase in her fighting capability as her racial evolution. And like both the evolution and the hatchet, it had come due to her partnership with Zeke.

“What’s wrong?” Zeke asked, interrupting her thoughts.

After only a second’s hesitation, she answered, “Nothing. Let’s talk to the tailor and order you a few more of those outfits. We both know you’re going to ruin them as soon as you get into a fight.”

“Because I’m incapable of dodging,” he supplied.

She laughed. The man was a capable warrior, but his technique was laughably bad. On top of that, he seemed fundamentally incapable of avoiding an enemy’s attack. To his credit, though, avoidance wasn’t usually necessary, given his [Leech Strike] skill as well as his inordinately durable body. They’d only known one another for a little less than a year, but Abby had already seen him shrug off dozens of wounds that would’ve killed lesser men. By this point, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to take him down.

Enough to kill me a hundred times over, she thought.

Over the next few minutes, the pair ordered a dozen outfits from the tailor’s shopkeeper, and after being told it would take a few days to fill the order, they left the shop.

As they exited onto the busy street on Beacon’s second level, Abby said, “I wish we could’ve brought Pudge with us.”

“Me, too,” Zeke agreed. “But he’s doing fine sleeping in Hawthorne’s basement.”

“We can go get him after we eat,” Abby suggested.

“Probably better to get a room at the inn first,” Zeke said, looking around with interest. He had told her that he’d explored some of the city, but he clearly hadn’t seen all it had to offer. Seeing the entirety of even one level in only a few hours was impossible, given its size. “I don’t know how common animal companions are, but I’d rather we got as little attention as possible.”

“After your run-in with Elder Einar, I’m not sure that’s going to happen,” Abby said, shaking her head. He’d finally broken the news of the run-in while being fitted for his new wardrobe. Rather than getting angry, as Zeke had expected, Abby had only shaken her head in resignation. Inside, though, she wasn’t too disappointed. She’d never met Callum Einar, but by all accounts, he was not a good person. On top of that, he’d also been dogged by rumors that he'd gained his levels via less than honorable means. Still, she wasn’t going to forego the chance to tease Zeke about it. “I swear – I leave you alone for a few hours, and you attack one of the men responsible for admissions into the guild.”

“He was a dick,” Zeke said. “And he attacked me first. Twice.”

Abby said, “And you shattered his jaw.”

“Lucky I didn’t do more,” he stated. “I held back quite a bit.”

Abby believed it. Sometimes, she found it difficult to believe that someone with his level could muster so much raw power. More, she knew it would probably get him into trouble if he stuck around in the city for much longer.

As they walked down the street, she explained, “You have to understand that everything here is based on power. Your level tells people how important you are. And for most people, if they see a level twenty-plus person walking down the street, they get out of the way in a hurry. He probably saw that you didn’t and was insulted.”

“That’s stupid,” Zeke said, a firm set to his jaw. “Just because he’s more powerful doesn’t mean he gets to treat people how he wants.”

“It kind of does,” Abby said. “Think about it. Who’s going to stop him? That skill he used on you would’ve cut most people under level twenty in half.”

“There aren’t police or anything?”

“Guards,” she answered. They reached their destination, a small restaurant bearing the simple name “The Taco Shop”. It wasn’t run-down, exactly, but it didn’t hold a candle to some of the higher-end establishments on the upper levels. In fact, it looked more like it belonged to in the outskirts. “The best restaurant in the city. Probably the whole world. I would eat here every single day if I could.”

With gusto, she dragged him inside where they quickly found a seat. The place’s aesthetic was a strange mixture of the new world and the old, laid out like a fast food restaurant. However, instead of plastic , fiberglass, and formica, everything was made of wood or stone.

A waitress came by and Abby ordered for the both of them. When the server retreated back into the kitchen, Abby and Zeke continued their conversation. “Like I said, there are guards,” she stated. “But most of them are below level fifteen. They’re mostly for show. Or as witnesses. If they see a higher-leveled person do something illegal, they’ll report it to someone who can do something about it. But sadly, using skills to clear the road isn’t really illegal here. Some people might see it as bad form, but they wouldn’t get too worked up over it.”

“That’s a messed-up system,” Zeke responded. “But I can see how it would kind of have to work like that, I guess. I can only imagine how much damage a battle between a couple of elites might do.”

Deciding to change the subject, Abby asked, “So, are you ready to apply to the guild? I’ll have to vouch for you. They won’t even consider an application without a current member’s recommendation.”

He raised an eyebrow, asking, “And you’d do that for me?”

“Shocking, I know, but I have a soft spot for people who save my life. And help me evolve my race. And make me rich,” she said.

“An obvious character flaw.”

“I know. I’m working on it,” she responded with a grin. “Seriously, though – I’m never going to forget everything you’ve done for me. I know I was a jerk before, but it wasn’t your fault. I was just in a weird place. With all the stress and the racial evolution…no excuses, though. You didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry.”

For the next few minutes, the two made small talk. It was pleasant, and Abby could tell that Zeke was beginning to relax a little. The tension wasn’t always apparent, but since the first time she’d met him, he’d been on the edge. Not surprising, considering what he’d been through, and she knew it wouldn’t ever really fade.

Probably a good thing, she thought. After all, with his plans – and hers, given that they were partners – a healthy dose of apprehension was probably perfectly reasonable. Without it, they could easily fall prey to some sort of surprise attack while trekking through the wilderness.

Soon, the waitress brought their food out – a pair of trays absolutely covered in tacos. There were a few different kinds – variety was the spice of life, after all – and it wasn’t long before the pair were digging into the heavenly creations.

“So good,” she said with a mouthful of seasoned pork, tortilla, and various vegetables.

Zeke laughed. “You’re not wrong,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of his steak taco. “Probably the best tacos I’ve ever eaten.”

“Told you. The guy who owns it apparently took some sort of cooking skill,” she said. “Doesn’t help him adventure or anything, but it definitely adds to the flavor.”

“How does that work, though? How does he get levels?” Zeke asked before taking another bite and finishing off the taco. He immediately picked up a fish variety.

Abby explained, “Not everybody wants to fight for a living. A lot do, of course. Way more than back on Earth. But it’s dangerous out there.”

“Didn’t seem that bad to me.”

“Because you’re a freaking monster,” was her reply. “You have zero context for what a normal person would have to do to survive away from a city like Beacon.”

He shrugged again, “Suppose you’re right about that. And I guess some people probably have families and stuff they need to take care of.”

“And artisans make a lot more money than adventurers,” she added. “If they’re successful enough, they’ll even hire adventurers to take them out where they can leech kills. It’s not that efficient because the Framework somehow takes danger into account, but if you’re level five and you help kill a level twenty monster, you’re still going to get a lot of experience.”

“I’m assuming that anyone who can afford to do that can afford racial evolutions, too,” Zeke reasoned. “So, no roadblocks.”

Abby gestured with her current taco as she answered, “Exactly. When they get their artisan skills out of the way, most of them take at least one combat skill so they can protect themselves. They’ll never be adventurers or anything, but levels still mean a lot. It’s not a bad way to live if you’ve got talent.”

“Does talent really matter if you’ve got a skill, though?”

“Of course it does,” Abby said. “Not so much with toggled skills like yours, but with anything active, you can’t just step out there and start murdering things. It takes time and practice to master a skill. Artisan skills are even more difficult. Just because you’ve got a smithing-related skill doesn’t mean you can go out there and forge a sword.”

“Makes sense,” Zeke said. “Just because you know how to swing a bat doesn’t mean you can hit a baseball, right?”

“Ugh. Baseball references again,” she said with a grimace. Then, she added, “But I guess it’s a fair comparison.”

Over the next few minutes, the pair ate in relative silence, putting away enough tacos to feed a small family. With their racial evolutions, they required quite a bit more food than an unevolved person, so they’d have to take that into account when they went out into the world. Not that it would be that big of an issue, of course. Neither had any trouble hunting down monsters, most of which were edible. And with Zeke’s spatial storage, they could bring plenty of supplies.

She shook her head, wondering how such a thing became normal for her. Sure, enchanted bags like her satchel were common enough, and most merchants used similarly enchanted boxes to move their wares. However, a space like Zeke’s? That was entirely outside of Abby’s experience to the point where she thought it might be completely unique. A spatial storage of that size, inside of which time didn’t move? It defied anything she’d ever heard of. And best of all, it couldn’t be stolen. To anyone who saw it, it was just a tattoo.

Finally, the pair finished eating. Zeke leaned back, a satisfied look spreading across his face as he said, “That was amazing. What now? Inn? Or should we go to the guild? I’m ready for whatever. And I’m kind of eager to get back out there, you know? I’ve been sitting at level fourteen for a while now, and I’m anxious to see what kind of skills are available for me at fifteen.”

“For a while? I’ve been fifteen for years, now,” Abby said, throwing her arm over the back of the booth. “You can wait a couple of days.”

“I could, but why would I want to?” he asked, grinning again. He really did have a nice smile. Playful, but still genuine. “Seriously, though – I have goals, Abby. I’m not going to be satisfied playing it safe or taking it slow. Leveling takes long enough as it is.”

“I know,” she said. “And I’ve told you before, I’m with you.”

She still wasn’t sure if all his talk about moving on to another plane was real or not, but at the same time, it didn’t really matter. Zeke was her ticket to real power. Together, they’d already proven they could take down the real monsters of the world. More than that, though, he’d become her friend and partner, filling a void that even Vladimir, despite adventuring with her for a couple of years, had never been able to fill.

“So? Inn? Or guild first?” he asked.

“Let’s go to the inn,” she said.

After they paid for their meal, which was surprisingly inexpensive, given how much they had eaten, they left The Taco Shop. As they went in search of an inn, Zeke asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask you – why don’t you have your own place in the city? You’ve been here for a while, right?”

Abby answered, “Economics. I’m barely ever in Beacon. Most of the time, I’m out on a mission. So, when I’m here, I just get a room at an inn. It’s a lot cheaper that way, and I don’t have to worry about coming back to someone squatting in my home.”

“That a problem here?”

She shrugged, saying, “Not unheard of,” she said. “This island is huge, so it’s not uncommon for people to leave for months at a time. So, unless you want to pay someone to watch your place, you’re likely to come back to someone who’s been living there while you were away. I don’t really blame them, though. If you’re homeless, you’re willing to take a lot of risks just to get a roof over your head – especially in winter. But just because I’m sympathetic doesn’t mean I want to come home to some homeless person sleeping in my bed.”

“How does that work, though?” Zeke asked. “With all this power…how are there people who can’t even afford somewhere to live?”

“You really can’t be this naïve,” she said. “A whole lot of reasons, just like on Earth. Maybe they’ve got psychological issues. Substance abuse. Maybe they’re old adventurers who were crippled by some monster. Some people even choose the life of a vagabond. There are infinite reasons, a lot of which can’t be solved, even in a world of magic. There are organizations that still try – mostly tied to the Church of Purity – but they have limited effects on the homeless population.”

“Seems wrong,” Zeke said.

“The world’s not fair,” she stated. “Some people are always going to be more successful than others. Even if we somehow got everyone to agree to spread the wealth out across the whole population, there would still be elites that lived better lives. There would still be people at the bottom rungs of society. It’s human nature.”

“That’s a cynical way of looking at things,” Zeke said. “But I’m smart enough to know that I don’t have a better solution. If I see somebody I can help, though, I’m going to do it.”

“On that, we can agree,” Abby said.

Over the next few minutes, they walked through the streets in relative silence until they finally reached one of Abby’s preferred inns – The Bleating Caprid. She knew the proprietor – a hefty man named Bruce who always wore a white apron – and soon, they were being shown to their shared room. Embarrassingly, Abby was a little disappointed that it had two beds – a feeling she hid behind a stoic expression.