The quarterstaff in Kiran's hands spun in hard to track patterns as he expertly manipulated the weapon. Erin gritted her teeth and closed with him again, her own staff snapping towards his head. The shorter man blocked even as he counter-attacked and the clack of wood striking wood filled the training area near the town's gate. Immediately Erin was forced to give ground, desperately fending off an endless barrage of attacks that seemed to come from all directions at once, and it didn’t take long before Kiran snuck something through. The length of wood struck her elbow, sending a jolt of tingly unpleasantness shooting up her arm into her hand. She powered through, maintaining her grip and struck back hard, thrusting the blunt tip of the staff like a spear. As if the man were water, he flowed around the strike and launched another barrage of attacks. Erin retreated, frustrated and sore. She made mistakes, more of his attacks getting around her guard. A touch on the shoulder, the ribs, along her thigh, and at the end a swift strike aimed at her temple, the blow pulled at the last second so that all she received was a gentle touch.

She inhaled sharply as her loss was announced again. Her frustration must’ve been showing plainly on her face because Kiran laughed.

“You’ve been training with me for a week and you’re fighting like it’s been months. I can’t imagine anyone would be unhappy about that kind of progress.” He shook his head, still grinning at her. Erin let out a sigh and planted the staff so she could lean on it. If she were being honest, she had no idea if she was making progress. She’d never trained to fight before. What she knew was that she’d experienced a thus unbroken string of losses and they were wearing on her.

“It’s hard to tell you’re making progress when all you do is lose,” she told him..

“Maybe for you. For me, it gets more difficult every time. Keep at it.” He said with a shake of his head.

[If you activate the Bronze State, you would find your body more capable. Perhaps you could defeat him that way.]

That feels like cheating. She thought, keeping her grimace internal. She hadn’t explored the new boon much, since she’d finished selecting her spells and ranked up to a Bronze Mage. As far as she could tell, the major benefit of ranking up was access to an enhanced state that continually consumed stamina for an all around boost to ability, magical and physical.

[It would be wise to acclimate yourself to the ability in training.]

That made an unfortunate amount of sense, not to mention her other abilities. Practicing with her spells would require her to leave the village, as the First Tier residents found the aura of magic uncomfortable.

“Let me get in there.” Liam called out from where he stood on the sidelines, and Erin nodded. Moving toward him and holding out the quarterstaff she’d been using. It had been nice to see the other Mage becoming active. Apparently, he had arrived at the village much closer to death than she had realized, and had only recently felt well enough to join them.

“You know how to fight with one of those?” She asked, pointing at the quarterstaff.

“No idea,” he said seriously, “but I’ll figure it out.” He stepped past her into the ring, and Erin was reminded once more of the size difference. Curiously, Liam wasn’t much taller than her, or Sigrid and she suspected that Mage bodies were more uniform in that regard. Like Erin, he stood head and shoulders over Kiran, but unlike her, Liam had broad shoulders and a powerful chest, which made him seem much more imposing.

“Hey Cheddar,” Kiran called out, and the big Monster Hunter jumped to his feet. “Why don’t you show the big guy some basics?”

“O’course.” the big man replied, stepping forward to take a place opposite Liam.

Erin intended to watch the two spar, and took up a position, leaning on the wooden wall of the guardhouse, but before long her attention wandered. She was drawn back to herself by Sigrid, who had moved closer while the practice bout progressed.

“You’ve been pushing hard.” The dark-haired woman commented, and Erin shrugged.

“They’re coming.”

“And you intend to fight them?” Sigrid asked, and Erin pulled a sour expression, but nodded.

“Yes, but not like last time. I was stupid and reckless and I put you in danger. I’m sorry, and I appreciate you bailing me out.” The words came out in a rush, and Erin had to force herself to slow down towards the end. Sigrid hadn’t reprimanded her since they’d arrived in Dangole, but Erin wasn’t so obtuse that she couldn’t tell when she’d made a mistake. A mistake that had forced Sigrid to risk her life to save Erins.

“Apology accepted,” Sigrid said with a small smile, “but I wasn’t trying to call you out or convince you not to fight. Things are different this time. Better walls, real fighters who know what they’re up against. We have all of our spells.” At this, Erin's gaze was drawn to Sigrid's eyes. Where they had once been dark, they were now slit-pupil’d and bright green, though the color was subject to change from one hour to the next.

It had been a week since Erin and Sigrid had finished choosing their spells and, apart from the new eyes, the spell hadn’t made any further alterations to Sigrid’s appearance.

Dragons’ Blood

Erin had passed over the spell for several reasons, mainly because she didn’t want to spend her new life slowly transforming into a dragon. The effects were unclear. The spell couldn’t be changed once chosen, not that she could complain about that. In the week since she’d bonded a whelp, she had become aware of its approach. It was enough time for it to hit home. She had bonded a dragon for the rest of its life, and she had used one of her spell slots to do it.

“I would like to know,” Sigrid continued, pulling Erin from her reverie, “why are you so bent on fighting?” Erin turned her gaze back to the men sparring within the training area, without really taking them in.

“In my world, they have stories about this kind of thing you know. Getting sucked into a magic world, or reincarnated or whatever.”

“...and?” Sigrid asked after a pause.

“Well, the characters in those stories, whether they turn into a giant insect, a trans-dimensional assassin, or a glowing green eyed lord of evil, they tend to have a common thread.”

“Is it long meandering explanations that make the people they’re talking to regret asking them questions?”

“No, well, maybe the assassin,” Erin shot Sigrid a look, “and since when do you snark?” Sigrid waved her hand with a shake of her head.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Well,” Erin said, trying to find where she’d left the conversation. “What they have in common is that they’d all rather be in the new world than the old one. None of those characters left much behind when they got ripped away from home. I guess that’s the convenience of being in a story.”

“I’m still not sure what this has to do with hurling yourself into life or death situations.” Erin nodded her head toward Cheddar, who was presently clapping Liam on the shoulder, after just having shown the large Mage his first defeat.

“These First Tiers, what do you suppose happens to them when they die?” Standing to her side, Sigrid was silent for several moments before she answered.

“Probably the same thing that happened to us, eventually anyway.”

“I know something for certain,” Erin continued. “I am not one of those characters. Not me, not you, and not Liam. We’d all trade away the magic powers to go home in an instant.” Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Sigrid clasp her hands together in a white knuckle grip, the muscles of her jaw showing in sharp relief as she clenched her teeth. They didn’t talk about home often. Mentions of their old lives were fleeting. Liam was the only one who spoke of what he’d left behind with any comfort, and even then only when asked direct questions by one of them.

“My dad was the best,” Erin said after a while. “He loved everybody. When I took my first boyfriend to meet them. He was driving this piece of crap car that died in the parking lot of the restaurant. After we were done eating, my dad took him and bought him a new battery for his car.” A small smile had slipped onto her lips as she spoke. “I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but that’s not the thing a girl's dad does for her boyfriend that he just met.”

“My father,” Sigrid started, her voice so rough with emotion that she had to clear her throat and begin again. “My father lost his eye to a bit of shrapnel. Normally he wore an eyepatch, but whenever he met my boyfriends, or even just the guys I was friends with. He’d take it off before they showed up and introduce himself. Staring them down with an empty eye socket. I lost a few guys I really liked for that whole performance.” Silence followed, as Erin’s head swam with memories of her dad, but eventually Sigrid pulled her out of them.

“I’m still not sure what any of this has to do with my question.” Erin ran a hand over her forehead, smoothing the red hair that had fallen down into her face out of the way.

“My dad was my hero, and I miss him. I’d go home if I could, but I can’t. The only connection I have is what he taught me. Be kind and help people if you can. Never turn your back on a bully. If these people die because monsters overran their town. They’ll be just like us. Lost, far from home with no way back.”

“So that’s it, huh?” Sigrid asked. “You don’t want people to end up like us?”

“I don’t want people to suffer if I could’ve helped them, and the part of me that feels that way is my connection to home. My connection to my family.”

“Alright Erin, you’ve convinced me.” Sigrid said, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Convinced you of…” Erin asked, turning to Sigrid.

“Convinced me you’re probably going to die young, but your heart is in the right place. If you’re right, if the monsters are coming, then we’re going to have to do more than just hit each other with sticks.”