“Thank you,” Rica softly said, holding his hand in her own, when he agreed to her request.

Eric shrugged and smiled. “No need, and you’re right. Bringing my bardiche with us when every other adventurer contents himself with a sword and chain mail armor that’s far lighter and more… polite than my rawhide and scale mail, is probably just asking for trouble, or making it look like I’m looking for a fight.”

Rica nodded. “Because from what the guard and the innkeeper said, assaulting someone else without a formal challenge being offered and accepted is a great way to get summarily kicked out of Freetown for good. And if you’re holding your bardiche and glaring at everyone, people assume you’re trouble. Besides, this way you can hold my hand and still have a hand free to point out cute things, or hold our bags.”

Eric laughed at that, his right hand very much full of a wicker basket purchased for a single copper, the equivalent of a credit, filled with steaming buns slathered in butter and cinnamon, Rica plucking one free and popping a delicious morsel in her mouth before laughing at her lover’s crestfallen expression and stuffing a cinnamon bun in his mouth as well.

Eric’s eyes widened. “That’s bloody awesome. Almost as good as Cinniblast.”

“Better,” Rica corrected. “And it just tastes so much healthier. You can tell this bread was properly fermented and that they used real honey. Not processed shit spitting out diabetics like crazy.”

Eric snorted. “Cinniblasts were the best, and I’ll have you know I’m probably 5% Cinniblast, with how much of their delicious processed crap I ate before, well...” he shrugged and smiled, somehow conveying the entire changed world with his lopsided grin.

Rica grinned. “Either way, you’re my yummy vanilla milkshake.” Soft warm lips whispered into his ear. “And your Cherokee princess will happily gobble you up faster than your cinnamon bun, because my mixed blood stud is most definitely good to the last drop.”

Eric began coughing way too much while his girl chortled with laughter and patted his back, doing his best not to think too hard on what her wickedly sweet statement implied about himself, still not ready to accept what Rica already seemed to be taking as a given. And he tried not to feel too much like a goofball, rubbing his own perfectly rounded ears as if for reassurance, with the warm grins more than a few early morning pedestrians favored them with, as he and Rica carried on like the silly lovebirds he supposed they now were. He happily matched every indulgent smile being sent their way with one of his own, including those of a pair of girls who were clearly adventurers as well, holding hands and gazing at each other with the same doe-eyed expressions Eric knew he and his beau were exchanging constantly.

Mostly, though, he felt happy. Exchanging good-natured laughter and grins with Rica and other adventurers like themselves, savoring a morning both beautiful and sweet and, so far, as safe and pleasant as any he could hope for.

For all that he always kept his senses sharp, 51 Perception just waiting for the whisper of padded feet and steel sliding free of a leather sheathe, the instant before a dagger would plunge into his back.

A dagger that never came, no matter how often Eric spun around faster than a rapidly approaching pedestrian, lurching back and spilling what smelled like cacao far more often than coffee before glaring daggers at Eric, could blink.

Rica’s soft glow and gentle smile became one increasingly of concern. “Babe?”

“Sorry.”

She gently squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. We survived Gilton. The worst is past. Now we can just focus on what matters.” She looped her arm about his waist as they continued to walk, leaning her head against her shoulder. “Being together… and being happy.”

Eric nodded and tried to relax, ignoring the worried twinge in his gut. “You know what? I love that plan. So let’s make the best of today.”

He blinked, abruptly catching sight of a handful of signs, instantly inferring what all the winding arrows meant on the painstakingly painted map on the corner of the tree-lined boulevard graced with picturesque shops that they ambled along. He couldn’t help smiling with a certain amount of satisfaction. He had always been utterly abysmal with maps in his previous life, but with sky-high Perception and what he suspected was an unusually responsive Interface, System snark and quirks aside, it was nothing for him to triangulate map decals with his environment in the blink of an eye.

Best of all, he still felt like he was the same Eric he had always been, just with a certain mental muscle he had never been able to clench before, causing geographic locations to metaphorically ‘pop’ into focus.

Thoughts processed in the time it took for him to squeeze his lover’s hand, show her the picturesque town map, and draw a line to a pair of shops that had most definitely caught his eye. “Look at that. Mystic’s Magical Accoutrements and Linus’s Wands. Now tell me us passing this way isn’t pure serendipity?”

Rica smirked. “As opposed to us waking up early to make the most of a private bath, and enjoying a stroll afterwords? Sure, let’s go with serendipity.”

Eric grinned. “Let’s. And let’s see if we can pick up some sweet wands while we’re at it!” This earned a game smile, for all that Rica’s pert little nose perked up at the scent of roasting coffee beans, wide eyes filled with absolute delight when, just minutes later, she was sipping what she swore was a perfectly brewed cup of coffee.

“Never could get into coffee,” Eric confessed with a smile, earning a rueful chuckle.

“Neither could I. Not until I was in college with a double major at sixteen. Then I grew to have a taste for it pretty quick.” Rica sighed. “Those were good days, while they lasted. And sleepless nights with a colicky little girl, and a full time job? My coffee habit stuck around long after I had to put classes on hiatus.”

Eric nodded, kissing her brow. “And then the world ended.”

“Yup. That it did. But at least some people still know how to brew a cup of really good coffee.”

Eric grinned before furrowing his brow, now knowing he wasn’t imagine the hostile look being sent his way by a peacock of a man dressed to the nines in a clashing collage of business formal and Renaissance excess, jerking open the door to a shop showcasing what even Eric could tell was exquisitely crafted boutique furniture. “Damn necromancer. Can’t wait til they’re all finally purged from this city.”

Eric jerked to a halt, genuinely stunned not so much by the hostility in the glare quickly averted, but by words muttered under the man’s breath so softly that no one should have heard.

But Eric had. And not even the professional mien the man put on his face as he slid behind the counter of what was clearly his store, giving the world a welcoming smile as he looked out the inviting shop window, could hide the hostility of his earlier glance. Particularly not with the way his smile became strained, eyes deliberately bouncing over Eric while he tried to catch the eyes and smile and nod at more than one well-to-do looking passersby, a pair nodding and waving and entering the man’s store, just moment later.

Eric blinked out of his daze when Rica tugged his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Babe, did you hear...”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

Eric furrowed his brow but allowed himself to be led away, both their earlier bright moods definitely soured.

“What the hell was that about?” Eric wondered allowed.

Rica sighed, gazing at him almost pityingly. “You really don’t know?”

Eric slowly shook his head. “Not a clue.”

She smirked, pointing to her nose. “For all that you have the absurd Perception… well, I guess you wouldn’t be able to tell, since it’s you, but um...the System doesn’t always mesh well with native magics.”

Eric frowned.

She furrowed her brow. “Maybe that came out wrong. It would be better say that it doesn’t mesh gently with native magics. Unexpected resonances occur which might make you um...”

“Extremely deadly and effective, full of hidden aces?”

She chuckled and nodded. “Exactly my point. But the odor of your magic isn’t smooth and calm. It’s sharp and spiky, with coils of unexpected intensity resonating through your aura, all of it tasting of wickedness and spice.” She grinned. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that at all, if you can handle the intensity. Honestly? I love the way your cinnamon scent makes my nose tingle. But it’s clear as fuck that you have unorthodox magics. Magics we only found out about when the Shamans screamed that we must accept all demands from the pod. That it was our master, and we, it’s fuel.”

She shuddered in painful memory. Eric held her close. “Magics they would have killed you for possessing in a heartbeat, if you had evolved in the surface pod, and the watchers smelled it upon you,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “I saw them do it to more than one survivor of the pod, and there were so few of us that actually made it… roaring that they failed to make the sacrifice they were supposed to, and now they would pay.”

Eric’s gaze hardened, remembering that psychopathic pod’s own attempt to steal his Essence gifts, feeling a surge of fear, anxiety, and fury with those words. “Goddamned bastards. I’m glad I cut those fuckers down. And destroyed that fucking pod. It was a fight to the death, no matter what I did.”

She dipped her head in silent agreement. “Anyway, you have this delicious wickedly sharp cinnamon smell about you. And it’s a fuck ton stronger than the trace whiff I caught from a few other adventurers we passed, once or twice before.” She flashed a teasing smile. “The minute I caught your scent, Eric Silver, I knew you were something special. It almost makes how fast you ascended, how strong you got as a level 9 infusing his core… understandable. Almost.”

She kissed his cheek. “But I’ve talked to a few non combat professionals. There were far more of them than Javelineers in Gilton, but our circles rarely crossed. Anyway, most of them are, well… fragile? Is that the right word? Anyway, they’re just barely connected to the System, even if they’re infinitely better off than all the mortals who can’t connect at all and, well, turn to goop or zombies. But even with the blessing of a Professional Class, they can never grow stronger by claiming the potency of others, with their own potency being so weak. Only by mastering their craft, getting stronger that way, can they hope to ascend. Though I know at least a few determined to try to gain an adventuring class, once they advanced.” She shrugged. “Don’t know if that would work, but I do know that they absolutely cannot stand your deliciously spicy scent.”

Eric grinned. “And I’m nothing if not deliciously spicy.”

Rica chuckled throatily. “Believe me, you really are. Trust me, I’m not normally half so...hungry with the boys as I am with you.” She flushed prettily. “Not that I have that much experience. Just the one professor I thought loved me who ran like the wind when he found out I was pregnant and...” she shook her head, suddenly flushing. “This is coming out all wrong. The spice is nice, like the sweetest cologne. But I hold you in my arms because that’s the only place I want to be.”

Eric kissed her glossy braids, savoring her own delightful scent. “I know. I feel the same,” he said, squeezing her hand. “So. I have a delightfully spicy scent because I ooze unorthodox awesomeness and System power both, and the fragile non-combat classers can’t cope with it, so they sneer and throw peanuts from the gallery?”

Rica laughed. “Yeah, pretty much exactly that.”

“That’s going to make shopping for nice things pretty hard,” he said with a sigh. “I’m glad that the craftsmen in Junk Town didn’t mind my scent… or were at least gracious enough to put up with it.”

Rica nodded. “Maybe it was because you and your friends basically saved their town? People tend to be pretty accommodating when they know that their safety and wellbeing is pretty much in your hands. Anyway, even here you’d think they’d be smart enough to have a non-Professional shopkeeper or just a store assistant around to handle sales and commissions when particularly potent individuals enter their shops. Because what idiot lets their own prejudices get in the way of profit? Especially higher level adventurers, where unexpected advantages, like an Advanced Class or odd gifts, are half the reason why we make it that far in just half a year anyway.”

Eric nodded. “It would be nice if common sense prevailed. And I guess a boutique furniture store can afford to be elitist if they aren’t catering to our kind.” He frowned worriedly. “Rica?”

She gazed up at him with those beautifully made-up eyes that he found absolutely captivating. “Yes, my delicious vanilla milkshake?”

“Do I really smell, well, spicy?”

She grinned and nodded, squeezing his hand. “I meant every word I said. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, Eric.” She flashed a smile both teasing and sad. “My only regret is that I didn’t meet you two years ago.”

Eric wrapped her in his arms. “You know what? I feel the same.”

“Even if we had had a kid together? Both of us college freshmen?”

He froze at those words, before squeezing her tight. “Most definitely. Even though you skipped a couple grades over me.”

She chuckled breathlessly. “Eric?”

“Yes?”

“I might be strong and falling in love with you, but you’re still squeezing me way too tight.”

Eric swallowed and stepped back, speechless, the blood roaring in his ears as he gazed at the flushing girl now looking anywhere but at him.

“God, I can’t believe just I said that out loud. You probably think I’m being an idiot. Single mom you’ve only known for a few days. Why the hell would anyone...”

He cut her off with a kiss hot and fierce, and conveying so much as he clasped her in a gentler grip, yet still held her close to his heart.

This time she didn’t say a word, just squeezed him back, almost as fierce, and he pretended he didn’t feel her warm tears trickling against his skin.

“Get a room, you two! Seriously. You guys look adorable. But you know how normies are,” said a youth wearing silvered plate and a teasing grin, accompanied by two strikingly beautiful girls who could have been models with their flowing red and black hair, each wearing sheer silk gowns that left absolutely nothing to the imagination while clearly radiating powerful protective energies. They would have looked like super models, even or perhaps especially with the wands and glass bucklers they both wore at their hips. And even with all the points they had clearly put into Charisma and Appearance both, Eric still didn’t think they held even a candle to Rica’s beauty.

The brunet girl nodded approvingly. “He is a handsome boy, Charles, with the most exotic scent. And I do love those tattoos. I’m surprised they survived the transformation. And the girl looks absolutely adorable. I’ll bet they’d both be absolutely delicious between the sheets. You should totally give them a guild invite.”

The too handsome young man chuckled good-naturedly, giving them both oddly approving nods. “And they both radiate potency. I think you’re right, Clarice.” With a flourish, the man handed Rica a golden calling card. Bemused, she accepted.

Charles nodded with approval. “Our guild house is across the city, but well worth the trip, I assure you.”

“Do stop by and visit, sometime,” urged the second girl. “We’re rich, we know how to party, and if you want to make coin adventuring... or safe and snug between the sheets, once your Appearance hits that absolutely golden 30...” she flashed a wicked grin. “We have the hearts and minds of the most powerful movers and shakers in the entire city on our side. And we always have a good time.”

The trio then departed with waves and laughter.

Rica swallowed, gazing up at Eric with brightly blushing cheeks he was sure he was matching. “Yeah. We gotta remember, half the people who make it that far up the ladder probably survive by seeing this all as a game.”

Eric nodded. “Most of my online guildies would talk so much bullshit, and play the sluttiest characters imaginable, with all sorts of imaginary bedroom escapades between raids. Because why the hell not? It’s just blowing off steam in a game.”

Rica furrowed her brow. “Still, that’s one guild invite I have no intention of accepting.”

Eric chuckled. “Me neither. But those girls were powerful. At least level twenty, no matter how much they enjoy playing the slut-puppies.”

She nodded. “And that boy was closer to thirty. Shit. That’s rare.”

Eric nodded, both of them having gotten a feel for the adventurer level ratios the night before. A good half of all adventurers were still playing it very safe, or only recently had the courage to transform, and were under level 10 like him. Then the number of adventurers for any level was about two thirds of what it had been the level before, or a little less than half, every two levels up to level twenty. Which mean that there were 32 times as meany level 10s as level 20s. After that, the curve leveled off, since those heroes over level 20 were the ones comprised of well-disciplined champions making up synergistically compatible groups focused on advancement and survival above all else. And those were the adventurers one most definitely wanted to stay on the good side of.

Even so, the heroes who were over level 30 in this city of over 100,000, those who had revealed themselves at least, the innkeeper claimed to be able to name on one hand. But, perhaps wisely, never did.