John dropped into a seat on a pile of dead shamblers. He slouched forward, resting his elbows on his knees as the slump wrestled with his mood. He wanted to shout. He wanted to cheer. He wanted to express the bottled emotions that slammed into you after surpassing a difficult trial.

Every waking day he’d spent in Urmatia saw him fight, fight, fight. For once, he wanted to stay up rather than succumb to the fragility of a weakened soul. He wanted to sip on the victory like tasting fine wine.

He wasn’t alone in the suffering of magical depression. Skullhead Landing’s defenders seemed to feel the same. The excitement of the final push against the shamblers had vanished the moment that victory was assured. The air around them all fell sullen. It became miserable.

John watched various creatures wander around in a mindless stupor. Orcs fell onto hands and knees, bawling. Taurens leaned against each other to stay upright. The elves started bickering with each other, the dwarves or turned their irritation toward the gnolls. The latter took the berating with a blank look on their faces.

John saw his new friend Nek standing stiffly as a female elf criticized the gnoll for not fighting enough. It looked like different races handled the slump in their own unique ways. If the dwarves weren’t bickering with the elves, they took out a flask and drained whatever they contained. John spotted gnomes here and there who had fought on the frontlines, and they seemed to be sitting, slouched over like John, unable to move even when a bigger person stepped over them.

“Magic stones are double-edge sword if you catch my drift,” Betsy said, taking a seat next to John.

He didn’t think much of it until he saw Noname glancing at Betsy strangely. Did Betsy’s closeness make her jealous? No way. The though of it was a little funny. If he wasn’t suffering the slump, he would’ve come up with a teasing line. But he just didn’t have the spirit for that. Or for anything.

“So it is the stones that extract from our [Soul],” Xanhilt said. “I’ve wondered about this. The three essential components to our ability to fight these monsters are replenished by easy-to-source stones. If everything has a cost, this so-called slump is yet another cost to our seemingly infinite combat-ability.”

“Yeah, you can say that,” Betsy said slowly. She watched Xanhilt with a suspicious look.

The saurian hummed. “But it was told to us that fighting beyond our mortal limits will cause our [Soul]s to lose energy. Is it a combination of both?”

“More the latter than the former,” Betsy said. “The magic to replenish yourselves ain’t inherently bad. But it means you skipped a few steps. You ain’t taken the time to heal naturally. To rest naturally. You took a shortcut. And every shortcut extracts a price from your [Soul]. And facing challenges like this also takes a toll.”

“But it’s possible to fight through it,” Noname added, swishing her sword around playfully.

“Sure enough is,” Betsy said. “But then you get a bunch of this hootenanny. And not the good kind, either.”

Betsy nodded her in the direction of a drunk dwarf wrestling an elf in the filthy mud. Without the shamblers, John saw that there were hundreds of combatants. Combine the number on the walls and in the camp, there must’ve been at least a thousand fighters. Maybe more. It seemed like a big operation to him.

What was the point of it all?

He imagined Xanhilt was thinking the same. The saurian was looking around at everything with hungry interest. Or he might actually be hungry and thinking what every new race here would taste like.

A group of elves drew closer with the elf princess at the front. They were either here for John or for Betsy, or for both. More of the defenders gathered as everyone started to notice the collection of heroes here on the battlefield. Soon as Victor’s party showed up, it seemed like everyone wanted to get closer to them. Even with the slump affecting them heavily, the urmatians still held the heroes in high standard and wanted to be near.

John didn’t mind the attention. It was not something that concerned him at the moment as his mind drifted toward basic wants. Hot food. Something a little sweet to quench his thirst. A shower. Oh, fuck yes, I can actually have a hot shower. John’s spirit rose a little with that thought. Add in an actual bed, and John felt like he could overcome the slump tonight. It was a fun idea, but the weight of magical depression only got heavier when he felt a rise in happiness. It was whatever. He was starting to get used to this.

He was starting to like this as weird as that was.

But what he didn’t like was the strange looks that were centered on Xanhilt. It had been a little weird when it came from Betsy. But now John was noticing the looks from everyone else. And the more brutish races⁠—the orcs, taurens, and gnolls⁠⁠—had little to no subtlety when they looked at a person. Same for the dwarves, especially the ones that had already gotten drunk.

“Ey. Ey. Ein’t that a bloody villain,” slurred one dwarf.

“I couldn’t believe it when I first lay eyes on it,” said the elf princess, her radiant armor flashing threateningly. “But that certainly are the scales of a villain. What is that horrific creature doing so out in the open here.”

A big tauren snorted aggressively and raised an immense two-handed sword. The herd of taurens following behind it tried to do the same, but they were too fargone to the slump. Those who still had some spirit to them, mainly the leaders of each race, started to raise arms. Dirty weapons and floating scripts highlighting magic of some sorts pointed toward Xanhilt.

Xanhilt was so shocked he couldn’t even speak. All the confidence John had seen in him since they first met had fallen apart. The saurian trembled on the spot, unable to speak against the strange accusations hurled his way.

But he didn’t have to speak for himself. Noname moved in front of him with a sword raised. John dug deeper than he thought was possible and pushed up from his seat. He staggered in front of Xanhilt and Noname.

“I will punch you,” John said. “All of you. If you don’t stop threatening my friend and talk things out.”

He raised his fist, and for a long few seconds, he saw doubt in the eyes of the aggressors. Even the elf princess, who John assumed had the highest political power here, couldn’t muster a word against John’s threat.

“Is it really wrong for them to take precautions against one of the Monster God’s greatest weapons?” Victor asked, walking smugly into the center of things. Sasha and Dimitri flanked his sides as everyone else moved to give them space.

“I don’t understand,” Xanhilt said meekly.

John reached back and placed a hand on the saurian’s shoulder. Noname stood stalwart with the sword.

“Are you sure you don’t understand, or you’re playing a long game to fool us?” Victor asked. “I’ve learned a lot since the night my party arrived here days ago. Apparently, the only heroes urmatian has seen are humans. And every human has been a hero summoned from our world or one born by heroes. So, who does the Monster God choose?”

“Something tells me you’re going to say saurians,” John said.

“Well, perhaps there’s hope for you yet.” Victor grinned.

“I can’t say the same for a thief like you.” John raised his head, enduring the backlash of the slump since his friend was obviously in danger here. John was asking a lot out of himself. The weight of the [Soul]-crushing was more immense than any he’d suffered before. It almost made him want to cry, but he had to be tough here. He had to go a little further.

“Tell them what happened a few nights ago, Victor,” John said. “How you came across my party and stole from us.”

The elf princess turned toward Victor with wide eyes. “Victor, no, you are the most stellar of heroes. The most honorable, like heroes of old. You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Is that the bullshit he fed you, princess?” John asked. “That guy’s full of it. He swept in when Noname, Xanhilt, and I fought a terrible monster that was killing heroes left and right. He stole a key and a journal.”

“A key and journal? The items that would help us in our campaign?” The elf princess asked, glancing from Victor to John and back. “But you told me you came across these items in a cave.”

“I did tell you that,” Victor said. “And I did come across John’s party. But when we met, two out of three of them were deep in sleep. And the only person awake at the time was the saurian. I could’ve taken their stuff, but I didn’t. And the saurian would know that since he was awake at the time. Unless, of course, he lied.”

Victor smiled smarmily.

Ugh.

John had an inkling trying to change this dispute between two humans to trusting Xanhilt’s words. It didn’t make sense for him to do that since John knew Xanhilt wouldn’t try to fib about a few items. Where would he hide it? Yeah, John didn’t check all of their pouches. He didn’t confirm anything. But he didn’t have to because he trusted Xanhilt.

“He wouldn’t do that,” John said.

“And how long have you known a saurian?” Victor asked. “A week? How does that compare to a millennium of history that details all of the atrocious acts saurians have committed?”

“You didn’t read a millennium of history!” John shouted.

“But I got the gist of it, my slow-minded friend.” Victor shrugged with a sly smile. “And that’s more than enough to question your involvement with your friend there. Could be possible that you and your girlfriend were tricked. And that there’s a villain amid us.”

“What are we waiting for?” shouted an orc. “Take the villain’s head from his shoulders and make a goblet from his skull!”

“Generation upon generations of my ancestors had suffered from your involvement, accursed saurian!” shouted an elf.

“Stomp him down! Stomp him down!” roared the taurens.

John’s slump worsened as the slump for everyone else seemed to change from depression to animalistic madness. He’d heard somewhere that depression could show itself in various forms. Mindless anger was but another form of it. John didn’t think he could endure this anymore. He’d just fought beside these people. But now they were out for blood against a kid John had protected from the get-go. It was almost too much.

John sighed.

“Alright,” he said. “If you want to take his head, you’re going to have to go through me. And I promise you. I will make you regret it.”

“This is ridiculous, John,” Victor said. “Just move to the side and allow us to capture the villain. Perhaps we can learn more from him alive than dead. But I can only assure you that if you listen to me.”

“You can shove that snake’s promise up your⁠—”

“John, maybe… maybe you should listen,” Xanhilt mumbled. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You’re just making me want to fight for you more, Xanhilt,” John said before looking over to Noname. The girl assassin was as still and calm as a tranquil lake. “You with me?”

“Yes,” she said without an ounce of hesitation.

Victor looked at John and Noname as if they weren’t following his careful calculations. John imagined the jackass was trying to use Xanhilt’s case to cover up his thievery. If John was a weaker person, it might’ve worked. But this situation reminded him too much of how Reggie would get bullied. Maybe John was imprinting a little bit on Xanhilt, but he refused to let bullies have their way regardless of that. He refused to adhere to the mob’s request as they raged against him and his party.

“I don’t know if this saurian is a good one,” said a scraggly voice that managed to cut through the din. “But I saw what John the Brawler could do. And Nek Nektaker tells me you are a good hero. I will stand with him.”

From the raging mob came a female gnoll accompanied by other gnolls. Among them, John recognized Nek Nektaker. Two dozen gnolls stood beside John’s party, and the leader of them, a [Gnoll Berserker, Lvl 29], stood the tallest. She looked intimidating as hell while drabbed in strips of clothe. Her only weapon was a rusty mace.

“Szi Headsplit, you are here upon my family’s patronage,” ordered the elf princess. “You must remove yourself from there this instant.”

“This is true, princess,” said Szi. “Gnolls love elf support. But gnolls love brave friends. It is better to have brave friends than gold.”

The gnolls cheered weakly in agreement. They were running on fumes, it looked like. That nearly floored John since it had to be difficult to move under the slump and defend someone else against the other races. They were heavily outnumbered. And John could see that not all of the gnolls agreed with Szi Headsplit and Nek Necktaker.

“We believe you, John,” Nek said.

“You are making a mistake,” the elf princess said venomously.

Szi shrugged. “Not the first.”

As another fight looked like it was about to brew, John searched inside of himself to see if he could back up his words. He couldn’t. He honestly couldn’t. So, for once, he looked for a different option. He wondered if there was a way to save themselves the trouble without using his fists. He didn’t like that he couldn’t fight his way through something, but even he had to admit there were some fights that weren’t worth it.

You’re not a total dummy, John, his mom would say. Use that brain of yours and think outside of conflict.

John glanced over to Betsy who’d been sitting to the side, watching everything proceed without her guidance. She was supposed to be the big ranked hero here. Some sort of advisor perhaps. Or role model. Or whatever. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to drag her into this.

John shifted slightly. Of course, everyone noticed and grew tenser. Too many eyes watched him as he stumbled over to Betsy and grabbed her by the hand.

“Hey,” he said. “I need your help with something.”

“You’re a forward type of gent, aren’t you?” Betsy said, resting her hand in his.

“When I need to be,” John said. “But I’m also a guy that knows he can’t do it all on his own. So, follow me for a bit. Could use a lady like you. Please.”

The veteran hero smirked. “Well, well, how can I say no to that?”