“I could do a blanket and a pin if you’re really that hung up about it.”

“It isn’t the same and you know it!” Snowflake all but shouted, slamming the door behind him as he stormed out of the shop.

Once he was outside, he ran both hands through his hair and let out an exasperated groan. So far, he had visited two tailors and a general items store. It had taken him a bit to make his way from the small park to the main road, where most of the shops were concentrated. He only got lost a few times, which was a win as far as was concerned.

The general store had been his most pleasant experience. According to the owner, a [Shopkeeper], [Tailors] and similar Classes gained little to no experience from crafting cloaks because of their simplicity. While Snowflake respected the man’s right to his opinion, he disagreed. Well, not so much that he disagreed but the [Tailors] he talked to did. Experience wasn’t the issue. In their opinion, cloaks were ‘relics of an archaic past’ and ‘unholy abominations’ that were a ‘blight on the fashion industry.’

“Slam my door again and I’ll take the payment out of your hide,” the aforementioned [Shopkeeper] said, poking his head out of the store. “Check the market by the Dungeon. You might be able to find someone selling a cloak they ripped off a corpse, or a low level [Tailor] peddling them. If you don’t, then come back and I’ll fix you up with a nice coat. I’ve got one that’ll hang down to your calves. Practically a cloak with sleeves if you ask me.”

Snowflake thanked the man and apologized, perhaps a tad begrudging on both counts. At least he knew the general direction of the market. He could see the Dungeon from miles in any direction.

As he threaded his way through the crowded streets, Snowflake kept an eye out for Awakened with Soulbound companions. Now he knew what he was looking for, he saw them everywhere. He paused to watch an obsidian wolf. As it moved, the obsidian making up its skin cracked open and reformed in rapid succession as its molten interior hardened to obsidian upon contact with air. It breathed fire into a forge, fueling the raging fire inside. A burly man with skin like stone gave the creature a few affectionate pats on the head before reaching into the forge to pull out a piece of glowing metal.

It was a touching sight. Man and beast operating in perfect harmony.

Snowflake resumed his journey, lost in thought about what kind of creature he would bond to. The debate about whether he would was more or less resolved as soon as Honey brought it up. The temptation of having a loyal companion was just too much. He liked the people he had met so far; he really did. But those relationships were ones of convenience. If push came to shove, who could he turn to and know without a doubt that they would be there for him?

In truth, he felt alone in this world. Not to say he was ungrateful for the immediate support he had received from Angosin, Honey, and Mordai. Or to say he felt the friendship of Ra’hel and Bonehammer was fake. They were just… it was just… untested, he supposed. Like a boat built out of sight of water. There was no way to know if it would sink or float when the seas got rough.

More than that, if he dug deeper and was honest with himself, he was caught in the romance of having a magical beast. Sure, it was much shallower than wanting a loyal companion, but sometimes the deeper reasons were just that. Shallow. A paradox to be sure, but not one he intended to concern himself with.

He didn’t know what kinds of creatures populated the Dungeon, but he could imagine. Sure, there was a chance he could get stuck with something like a slime –the slimes of his old world were magical jelly-like creatures known for being weak and unintelligent– but Classes and Cores seemed to have strong focuses on concepts like evolution and progress. He didn’t see why his Soulbound companion would be any different. Even a goblin could grow into something formidable given time and a nurturing touch.

Nurturing a weak creature into a powerful one was a thought that was almost as intoxicating as bonding a rare creature with awesome potential. To bond a proverbial carp and inspire it to jump over the dragon’s gate…

Lost in dreams of the future, Snowflake wandered toward the Dungeon, never noticing the large figure flitting through the crowd behind him.

Snowflake’s thoughts drifted, as thoughts are apt to do, turning from creature companions to Cores. While he respected Honey’s opinion and thought she offered valuable insight on Monster Cores, his heart was set on magic. A Magic Core might be able to help him regain the mystic mystery of his past. He yearned for the familiar more than he craved opportunity to grow stronger through failure.

He understood Honey’s concerns about his strength and agreed with her to an extent. However, once he got his Magic Core and a Class that let him manipulate the raw elements and forge them into the all-powerful magic he was accustomed to, everything would be different. With his Soulbound companion at his side and [Fireballs] dancing at his fingertips, everything would be back to how it was.

Which was what he wanted, right? To be what he was. There was no good reason to pursue a new life when the one he had was perfect… right?

Snowflake turned into a shadowed alleyway, still following the looming figure of the Dungeon. He was troubled. Magic was what drove him. It was who he was. But, was it who he wanted to be? Did he even know who he wanted to be?

He shook his head, trying to dispel that line of thought. It made him feel frustrated and hollow in ways he could not put into words or coherent thought. He was growing tired of the rollercoaster of emotions this world was putting him through.

A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The man facing him down was large and somewhat familiar. However, Snowflake was beginning to think that most men around here were large compared to him. Fit was a given, Snowflake was racing toward a similar physique himself, but this man didn’t have the lean build of an athlete. He was built like a man who spent a large amount of his time picking up heavy things, or perhaps just knocking them around.

“Do I know you?” Snowflake said, his body shifting into a more balanced stance of its own accord; hours and hours of training showcasing their use.

“We met last week, at the bar.” The man rubbed his hand to his chest and gave Snowflake an odd smile. It was almost sad. “My name is Robert. You may remember me better as a friend of Dave’s.”

“Oh, right! Dave.” Snowflake shuffled back a few steps and glanced around. They were alone in the alley. “I gathered that he has some history with Honey and Mordai.”

“Yeah, yeah. You could say that.” Robert loomed closer. “I just wanted to say that there are no hard feelings between us. I have nothing against you.”

Snowflake may be a stranger to many things in this world, but this was one scenario he was intimately familiar with. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt. It took more willpower than he’d like to admit to keep himself from bouncing on his toes.

“Of course. Dave’s issues with my instructors is really none of my business.”

Robert’s eyes tightened. Snowflake watched him with care, pulling as much Source into his body as he could. As he grew closer to developing his Core, the amount of Source lingering in his body when he wasn’t using it had increased substantially. It wouldn’t be enough. After a week of sparring with Honey he had a clear idea of just how well he would fair against an opponent levelled in their Class.

If he wanted to get out of here alive, he’d have one shot. Maybe two.

“Ah, you see that’s where we’re at an impasse,” Robert said, rolling his shoulders. He was warming them up for the impending violence, no doubt. “Dave is a good friend of mine. A real good friend. He took me in and taught me how to level up as a [Brawler] without constantly risking my life in the Dungeon. It’s a slower route, but surer. Well, anyway, as a friend of Dave’s, its up to me to help defend his honor. Your instructors said some very hurtful things and so I intend to hurt them in return. Unfortunately for you, you’re one of their weak points.”

“Attacking someone who doesn’t even have a Class yet seems sort of low. I thought Awakened were former heroes.”

Despite his offhand manner, Snowflake’s words were as calculated as he could manage given the situation. He meant to casually remind his opponent that he was weak. The more Robert underestimated him, the better.

“Maybe some of us were, but not all.” Robert’s eyes were distant for a flash, but he snapped back into the moment before Snowflake could capitalize on it. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but every good [Brawler] knows you have to go for the soft spots.”

Robert tensed, shifting his weight forward. Snowflake, already on guard, threw a quick succession of jabs at his face. Honey’s voice seemed to whisper in his ear ‘press the attack, force them to react to you.’ He stepped forward with each strike, breathing out just like Honey taught him. Robert recoiled on instinct, not expecting the attack. He brought his hands up to guard his face, slightly obscuring his vision.

Snowflake poured as much Source as he possibly could into Reinforcing his body in preparation for the next sequence of events. Robert retaliated to his sudden assault with a sweeping haymaker. Snowflake ducked under it, lowering his hips and shifting his weight in a circular motion, just like he’d practiced so many times. The blow whistled past and he surged up from his crouching position, Source thrumming through his veins.

He loaded his hips, brought back his arms, and leapt at Robert, extending his body like a coiled spring. His outstretched hands latched around the back of Robert’s head, catching him in a clinch. In the same motion, with as much strength as he could muster, Snowflake pulled. He used his whole body to yank Robert’s startled face toward his knee, launched into motion as soon as his hands landed. It felt like kneeing an iron wall, but it still landed with a satisfying crunch.

Over the past week, Honey had drilled Snowflake in a relentless manner, teaching him to kill with his limbs. ‘Dance of the nine-limbed spider’ she called it. According to her, a knee to the face was a lethal strike. Of course, it might be if it was delivered by her. Snowflake, who was an amateur operating under the assumption that most people he met on the street could withstand bullets, hoped it would stun his opponent long enough for him to get away.

Unfortunately, he overestimated himself. A low kick swept his feet out from underneath him as he turned to run. He hit the ground hard but was quick to rush to his feet.

“That was a good hit,” Robert said. He put his hands to his nose and shifted the bones with an audible crunch. The minor wound healed so fast that the smear of blood on his upper lip was the only proof it was ever there. “[Quick Recovery] and [Fighter’s Physique] make it a moot point though.”

Snowflake took the panic rising in his chest and fed it to the flame. There was no time to freak out. Robert took his best hit, one he was surprised he was able to land, and brushed it off like he was an adult fighting a child. He could try to run, but he didn’t like his chances. Even with just a few extra weeks of practice Ra’hel and Bonehammer were leaps and bounds ahead of him when it came to the obstacle course. Robert was most likely as far beyond them in physical capability as they were beyond him.

He couldn’t run. If he stood and fought, he would die. There had to be a solution.

“[Mirage Punch].”

Robert threw a straight right at Snowflake. Snowflake danced to the left, only to get rocked by a hit to the stomach. The punch knocked him to ground where he fought to catch his breath. Robert waited for him to get back up, a conflicted expression on his face.

“You know,” Robert said after a long moment. “I think I’ll refrain from using active Skills. Nothing I can do will make this fair per se, but…” He trailed off as Snowflake staggered to his feet.

Snowflake drew in Source as fast as he could, transforming it into chemical energy to heal himself. His vision blurred but he pushed on. There had to be a way out of this. There was always a way to win.

He had no weapon, was physically outmatched, and could not run away. Think. Think.

Robert seemed content to wait for several long seconds while Snowflake patched himself up as best he could. Snowflake, however, decided to seize the initiative instead of allowing his opponent to set the pace.

He threw a rapid series of jabs designed to keep Robert off balance, not that he believed he could damage the man without augmenting his strength. With his focus split between drawing in as much Source as he could while on the move, scrambling for a plan, and dodging Robert’s probing attacks, Snowflake fell back on his training, as slight as it was. Without conscious thought, he slipped into the combinations Honey insisted on drilling him on.

Quick double jab. Right straight. Duck. Right hook. Rolling left hook. Dance away to create space. Front kick. Dance away from the retaliation. Jab. Jab. Mid-kick.

From the rhythm rose a thought.

Robert said it himself. Attack the weak points. Mordai warned him time and time again that joints were hard to heal. They were delicate and complex, which is why he had to be so careful about making sure they were Reinforced. If he could break one of Robert’s joints, then winning a mad dash to the end of the alley became much more probable.

Smashing something delicate had to be easier than kneeing an Awakened in their Source enhanced skull, right?

A heavy blow from Robert glanced across his right forearm nearly breaking his guard, probably cracking bone, and reminding Snowflake just how important it was to keep his hands up. Pain lanced up his arm from the impact point, but he couldn’t afford to waste any Source on healing. He needed every drop for his wild gamble.

Even though his right arm was already injured, or maybe because, he started forcing all the Source he’d gathered to converge on it. He did what he could to concentrate it all into a single point, located near the tip of his knuckles. It was a novice effort at best. As prepared as he could be and not willing to risk another glancing blow ending his chances, he put his plan in motion. Hopefully before Robert decided to stop humoring him.

Snowflake rushed forward, whipping his left hand toward Robert’s eyes. He ducked down, trusting that Robert had at least blinked and was unprepared for what was about to happen. It was a faint mimicry of the first attack he had tried on Honey.

With a primal yell, he punched his injured arm toward Robert’s leading knee. It landed with the crunch of breaking bone. His fingers.

The milliseconds dragged on and on as he held his fist to Robert’s knee. He was already slow when it came to converting Source to kinetic energy, but the pain was making it even harder to concentrate. When he felt Robert begin to move his knee away, Snowflake gave up on converting all the Source, instead choosing to just release the kinetic energy he’d already transformed.

The blast ripped through his arm, mangling his already broken hand. If he had the presence of mind, he’d recall Mordai’s lesson on equal and opposite reactions. As it was, he had other things to worry about.

A scream ripped its way from his throat. He didn’t try to stifle it. Instead, he poured every once of will he had into turning and running away, his hand cradled to his chest. Halfway to freedom he stumbled. He glanced behind to see Robert running after him. There might have been a small hitch in his step.

With strength born of desperation, he clawed his way to his feet and scrambled away.

He couldn’t die.

Not here.

Not now.

Three steps to freedom and a rough hand latched onto his shoulder. He tried to rip away, but he was held fast. His mind raced, the cold grasp of terror holding firm to his wildly beating heart.

“Tell your instructors that they’re next,” Robert said, his wistful tone replaced by the detached voice of a killer.

Robert’s grip tightened, then Snowflake felt a massive force slamming into the back of his leg. It snapped. Snowflake stifled his panicked scream. It might be too late to die with dignity, but he’d try.

He poured his roiling emotions, his pain and fear, into the flame in his mind, conjured with practiced ease. It was a small thing, but he hoped to face his death with a small measure of calm.

It had been a long time since he had even considered that he, a hero with earth-shattering power, might die in a back alley, murdered by a two-bit thug over a petty grudge. An unmarked grave wasn’t how he had envisioned his end.

…

The next thing he felt was a rough shove pushing him out of the alley. He glanced back to see Robert give him a slight nod. Acknowledgement of his fight against the odds, respect for facing the end with a straight face, or a promise to come back to finish the job, Snowflake could not say.

All he knew was that he was alive. Broken, but alive.

If only it didn’t leave such a bitter taste in his mouth.