I bolted straight up in a panic. My sweat-drenched form was shaking slightly in the soft glow of morning light, which streamed through the window. My surroundings were foreign to me for a brief moment before I remembered where I was. The Pompous Prophet, a half-decent tavern in the city of Brunswick, capital of Thumsland. A shit name for a kingdom if you asked me, but no one had.

I had the same nightmare again. The loss of my first life continues to haunt me, but now it aches like an old wound. A more grievous injury to my psyche was the losses yet to come and the inevitable hellscape I would return to again and again. Reincarnation is my curse. The lives themselves weren't all that bad. Losing people you cared about hurt every time. Still, even that pain was preferable to experiencing nothing for months at a time. It was enough to drive anyone mad. If it weren’t for the several years I was afforded as a child to piece my mind back together I’m sure I would have cracked several lives ago. This was my 7th life if you didn’t count the ones where I died in childbirth. Those were the worst.

There aren’t even rumors or myths of reincarnation as far as I had learned. Any information about what happens after death was contradicting religious teachings from vastly different cultures. Was the void something everyone experienced, or something only reserved for me? Which would be the worst hell? Enduring an endless cycle of life and death or staying in the nothing I experienced in between forever.

A knocking at my door took me away from these existential thoughts. The voice of the ever happy and optimistic waitress and receptionist Judith came from the hall. “Mr. Trace, breakfast is ready downstairs.”

She was an active and inquisitive type, always asking the so-called adventurers about their assignments. Somehow the world conspired to keep the adventurers she spoke with alive, so she was known as somewhat of a good luck charm by a significant portion of the local guild. I felt it had more to do with the type of adventurer you would find here at the Pompous Prophet. A room here costs more than the desperate could afford and less than the most professional adventurers would bother with. The middle ground between the worst and best was generally the safest place to be.

After realizing she had been waiting on me while I was lost in thought, I half-shouted back to the door. “I’ll be down in a moment, thank you.”

*

I ate quicker than most and was outside the adventurers guild before the sun was fully up. A handful of people were sitting around or turning in a bounty, slightly more traffic than usual this early in the day. I must have had some awkward expression on my face because the receptionist, Mary, asked, “Too crowded for your tastes, Mr. Trace?” I replied with a slight nod and began digging through my backpack. I worked enough to afford a minor storage enchantment, which expanded my pack’s interior several times. Six hurlock heads were placed on the counter. There was a standing bounty for the horde in this kingdom.

Hurlocks a dangerous but fairly common threat in most places I’d been on this world, including every major continent. They generally stood a head taller than most men with vaguely human features, strength beyond what a non Stone enhanced man could achieve, and thick, pale gray skin. With an unending bloodlust for humans and overwhelming numbers, they were among the largest threats to the human race. Luckily most of them only had scavenged arms and armor. Proper horde encampments tended to be much better-equipped, courtesy of their weaker but more intelligent counterpart, the caslocks. In this region, hurlocks were the primary staple for how qualified you are to take on specific requests. Submitting 10 hurlock bounties was the first of these milestones, not that I paid too much attention to this ranking system. Anyone could turn in individual monster bounties without taking a specific request. The requests tended to be extermination tasks for larger camps containing more than I could handle or escort missions, which I had no interest in. Whoever submitted the request could ask the guild to place an estimated rank requirement or opt to allow anyone to join.

I don’t even know what my rank is because the entire system is a joke. Someone could kill 10 hurlocks one at a time over a year or several years and still be considered the same ‘rank’ as a guy that just showed up with 10 heads after one day out.

“Would you like the bounty to be paid in Stone or money Mr. Trace?.”

“I’ll take the gold.” I got enough Stone from my week-long hurlock hunts; the bounties I turned in were to pay for expenses. A surprising number of adventurers took requests for jobs that didn’t involve killing. They opted to accept a portion of their bounty in Stone to grow stronger. Decent solo hunters like me were rarer, relying on our kills to progress.

She handed me a small pouch after counting out some coins. “Have a nice day, Mr. Trace, and stay safe!” She knew I wouldn’t be sticking around to look at requests. The only reason for me to check would be for dangerous areas to avoid, and I knew she would tell me if there was such a thing.

I wasn’t feeling talkative today, but she didn’t deserve the silent treatment from me. “Thanks, Mary, you too.” I gave her a half-smile. When I turned to the exit, that half-smile turned into a scowl. A team of five had walked through the doorway. They were the young abrasive type, a role that a close majority of adventurers occupied. These specific ones had decided they had a problem with my kind. Their flawed logic went something along the lines of ‘You killing all the hurlocks ruins opportunities for the rest of us to earn extra income on our jobs. You’re ruining the adventuring economy, blah blah blah!’ As if the few exclusively hurlock hunters killed enough of the horde to make any difference to the average adventurer.

On my way to the door, one of them, a woman frontliner by her appearance, tried to bump into me. I expected this kind of treatment and sidestepped it after she committed to the motion. Apparently, she intended to hit me pretty hard because she actually stumbled, something most physically enhanced individuals didn’t often do. Somehow she even had the nerve to turn and glare at me as if her being a dick was my fault. I was in a real shit mood after the nightmares last night, and I didn’t exactly enjoy being around people much anymore in the first place. Despite this, I wasn’t going to confront her over her actions and just turned to leave. Another frontliner in their group decided to speak up. “Hey Dip, as if stealing kills from us decent adventurers isn’t enough, you have the nerve to trip my party member? You better apologi-” He got about that far into his sentence before I was facing him, my leather glove smashing into the floorboard at my feet.

My favorite laws of this kingdom regarded honor duels. Honour was a pretty big deal here. If you were sufficiently insulted by someone else and had an unbiased witness, you could challenge someone to a fight to the death. As I said, I’m not having a great day today. He had called me a Dip, everyday slang around here for thieves and scum. For a moment, I thought to myself if I was becoming desensitized to death with all the lives I’d lived, and then the dumbass in front of me opened his mouth. He laughed.

*

A request was submitted to the guard by myself and the nameless asshole. My witness was Mary. Truth be told, this guy was so cocky that I’m sure he would convince one of his buddies to be a witness for me if I didn’t have one. They weren’t taking this seriously at all, which was both surprising and not. On the one hand, they knew nothing about me, and on the other hand, they knew nothing about me. The entire time we waited for a guard to become available to speak with us, they continued to taunt me. I learned their names; well, I didn’t precisely memorize any of them except the man I was about to kill, Hector.

Hector had a small shield, a steel short sword, and a two-sided axe. Apparently, for this fight, he was opting to use his steel axe and shield. He was dressed in leather, half plate, and no helmet.

I held two steel hand axes, and my armor was similar to his but slightly more worn. On my hips and back, I had a total of four more axes, identical to the ones I was holding.

The guard went through the rules we had agreed upon. The fight was to end with one of our deaths, and everything we owned, including our personal Stone, would be forfeited to the victor. We stood roughly fifteen paces apart, and the guard started counting down.

“Five, four, three, two, one!” It was a rapid countdown, there weren’t laws in place for this aspect of things, so it was mainly up to guard preference.

Hector and I started towards each other when the guard hit one, taking a slightly angled approach. We might have seemed to move symmetrically from a birds-eye view. Neither of us let our eyes stray from the other. I noticed now that Hector was of a caramel complexion, with bright green eyes. He was too young to die, but I was here now, and I’d seen younger men and women perish. Killing a human wasn’t easy, but those kinds of thoughts faded once the blood started pumping. Regret could come later if it came at all.

We were a few strides apart when I threw an axe. I aimed a little above Hector’s chest. If the attack landed, it wouldn’t result in a severe injury. His armor and ribcage were plenty to stop the attack, but I didn’t intend on the axe hitting. Dodging was probably an option for him, but he chose to lift his shield to block the attack. Honestly, I don’t know how this kid wasn’t dead already from some random hurlock, they’re dumb as bricks, but they have more fighting instinct than Hector. He chose not to back up or step out of the way from a potential second attack, and now that his shield blocked line of sight, that was a huge mistake.

I threw my other axe at his left thigh. As it spun through the air, Hector lowered his shield, and his field of vision opened back up. He was faster than I initially assumed and had probably spent several Stones dedicated to reaction time and reflexes specifically. Sadly for him, it wasn’t enough. I saw a brief flash of confusion on his face when he realized I didn’t have any axes in either hand. Then, I heard the meaty crunch of my successful hit, and his face contorted into anguish. His shield had blocked the view of my axe entirely as he lowered it. Fresh blood painted the sandy dirt of our makeshift arena under his feet. His mobility wasn’t entirely crippled, and my axe didn’t break or fracture any bones. Still, the look on his face told me he hadn’t invested any Stones into pain relief. The pain would slow him down, and he wasn’t fast enough in the first place. I heard a few noises of surprise from his friends, but they didn’t break my focus.

By now, I had drawn another two axes and begun circling him. He was forced to face me as I walked around, increasing blood loss and pain. His friends on the sideline started shouting. “Coward! Fight him like a warrior!” To me, fighting an opponent with everything I had was respectful.

Hector’s face had lost some of its caramel coloring and was getting slightly paler now. It was time to move in. When I swung my left axe in a downward arc, he took it on his shield. I changed trajectory slightly during my swing and hooked the axe head around the back of his shield. He realized quickly what I was doing and slashed at my unprotected left side with his right axe hand, but it was too late. Before his axe gained enough momentum, I pulled him off balance and buried my right axe into his unprotected temple. The fight was over.

I had an odd thought just as the life faded from his eyes. He never knew my name.

Hector collapsed onto the ground, and I began the process of removing my axes from his corpse and shield. I’d have to clean his former belongings by hand in the nearby river; I had yet to acquire magic due to the immense Stone costs of that endeavor.

I heard crying behind me and glanced at the crowd. Hector’s former party members displayed a range of emotions; disbelief and grief were common expressions. In particular, one face stood out to me and caused a slight ache of guilt to wash over me. Mary looked absolutely horrified and slightly sick. Sickening was a fitting description for slaughter like this, Hector hadn’t stood a chance, and she knew that from the moment he challenged me. My first instinct was to spare her the pain of seeing me turn in bounties by moving away.

I decided against the idea because I had the most profitable hunting in this region that I’d had anywhere else in my life. I wasn’t an adventurer in every life, but I had enough experience to know a goldmine of Stones when I saw one. The lack of military action against all but the largest horde presences was reasonably rare among the various kingdoms I had been in. This kingdom also had an odd cultural taboo for groups, specifically hunting down the horde without a submitted request. This policy and cultural taboo had many negative and positive implications. For me, this meant an abundance of hurlocks to kill.

One of Hector’s team members began storming towards me. Anger written all over his face had me slightly shift my stance to a more defensive one. He hadn’t drawn his bow or either of the two daggers I could see on him, but I didn’t enjoy taking risks. The guard stepped into his path. “Sir, I’d advise you to keep your surroundings in mind.” There were a half dozen guards paying attention to us, not counting our referee.

The archer stopped his advance; some dust settling behind him was the only evidence of his prior angry march. Calm took over his features as we made eye contact, and he spoke in an even tone. “You will pay for his life.” The man shared the same complexion and eye color as the late Hector. The two could easily be related. Taking his threat lightly would be stupid, but sadly threats weren’t in any way against the law, and they weren’t grounds for requesting an honor duel. I would have to watch my back for a while. It was well known that what happened between adventurers in the wild wasn’t guards’ business.

Mary had left by now. Hector’s party soon followed after the guard assured Hector’s corpse would be delivered to them to be disposed of properly. They buried the dead in this region.

I shouldn’t have killed him; I know that. I went straight to murder after the most meaningless insult. Seven lives under my belt, and I couldn’t take an insult from some abrasive adventurer. In my next life, I’d like to keep things more relaxed, take a break from the constant battling for my life. I wouldn’t marry again, that was out of the question, but it can’t hurt to spend some time living peacefully.