Caleb’s emotions swung from shock to anger to calculation. Malum Kane’s last words came to mind. The last words the man had said before murdering him in cold blood.

You do have a hell of a lot of potential, Caleb. Or at least you would have, if your life path had wound on just a little further.

Kane pulled out one of the pistols that sat on his hip. The click of the hammer was like thunder, the spark thrown off by the flint the lightning. A bang! and Caleb felt a hard, hot punch in the center of his chest.

Caleb’s mouth set in a cold, hard line.

Of all the people I wouldn’t want to run into, this guy’s close to the top of the list. But at least I got a good, long look at his character sheet now.

Malum Kane stepped into the room. The oily smoke of spent black powder curled up from the muzzles of pistols he held. He swirling black and silver uniform made him look like an evil cleric.

He cocked his head slightly to one side and grinned mirthlessly.

“I owe you a death, Ledger,” he said. “I don’t know what you’ve been up to since we last parted ways, but maybe I’ll be lucky to end you for good this time.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Caleb shot back. “Because I’m going to get the chance to put you back in the ground again. From the looks of it, you haven’t changed.”

Kane shook his head. “Still with the misplaced nobility. You just don’t get how this world works. Going around, treating NPCs like real people. You’re spinning your wheels, going nowhere fast.”

“And you’re still fronting for a cult of soul-suckers. What are you doing on the Damsel? Did they demote you to delivery boy?”

Two of the prisoners grabbed for the swords dropped by the now-deceased prison guards. Kane reacted with a speed that startled Caleb. The Komtur hurled both of his spent pistols at the prisoners. A double klonk! and the two men fell, unconscious.

A single section from Kane’s character sheet popped into Caleb’s mind.

Rogue-Specific Specialties: Sneak Attack Bonus, Expert-Level Duelist

That was followed by a brand new screen in his Quest Window.

New Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Beat Komtur Malum Kane in a duel. Level of Quest has been upgraded due to ‘Grudge Match’ classification. STATUS: IN PROGRESS.

Grudge match? Caleb thought. Sure as hell got that one right.

He flicked the screen away as Kane went for his cutlass and remaining pistol. Caleb lunged blade-first at the Komtur. The sound of steel on steel sounded as the Kane barely managed to bring his sword up in time to block the incoming cutlass.

Now a series of clangs! ran through the compartment as Caleb forced Kane to one side, away from the exit. He felt the familiar squishing sensation as his leg wound dripped blood down into his boot, but he ignored it.

Instead, he bore in like a madman, pressing his blade against his foe’s. Physically forcing him back and away from the door.

“Get out of here!” Caleb shouted to the prisoners. “I’ll handle this Komtur!”

To a man, the prisoners dashed for the exit. Two grabbed one of the men Kane had knocked out. Another grabbed the man’s sword.

The second man Kane had knocked down, the one with a mop of curly hair, staggered to his feet. He held his blade held out ahead as he advanced unsteadily. Kane let out a roar of frustration as he shoved Caleb back two steps.

In a flash, Malum Kane pulled his remaining pistol. Another bang! and the curly-haired captive cried out, dropping the sword. Blood dripped from his palm where the shot had torn the weapon from his hand.

“I said go!” Caleb roared. “This is my fight alone!”

Sullenly, the man nodded and made a dash for the door. Kane didn’t take his eyes off of Caleb as he did so. As soon as the man crossed the threshold, a screen updated in Caleb’s Quest Window.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Free the captives kept in the slave ship’s chattel pen. STATUS: COMPLETE

“Now we can settle this properly,” Caleb gritted. “The way it should be.”

“You’ve done nothing,” Kane replied, “except seal your doom.”

With that, Kane advanced. His remaining, spent pistol dangled from one hand, dribbling puffs of smoke and continuing to fill the room with an acrid scent. Kane’s cutlass flashed as he made a series of diagonal slashes.

Barely managing to parry the blade, Caleb fell back. The Komtur pressed on, the clang of blades echoing off the walls. Caleb tried another lunge, seeking to penetrate Kane’s defense.

His sword met nothing as his opponent stepped aside. Kane brought his arm back and hurled his pistol down. The hard wood and metal met Caleb’s knee with a crack.

An explosion of agony ran up the limb, making Caleb stumble. He let out a cry of anguish as he nearly collapsed. Instead, he desperately blocked the incoming coup-de-grace.

He shuffled backwards into the shaft of light made by his earlier fall belowdecks. The sounds of battle filtered down through the hole. Yet those sounds were fainter than when he’d first boarded the Damsel.

One leg felt wobbly as it continued to bleed into his boot. Now the other threatened to give way as the knee tried to decide if it was going to go on strike or not. His cutlass wavered as he tried to parry slash after slash.

Finally, the Komtur’s sword drew a dripping red line across Caleb’s forearm. Then a second, deeper cut along his side. Caleb shuffled back another two steps as he felt a tingling crease open in his torso. Dull warmth began to soak his shirt.

Kane’s body took on an unholy glow as he stepped into the light Caleb had vacated. It cast the lower part of his face in shadow. But his teeth gleamed, sharklike, all the same.

“You’re so badly outmatched,” he gloated. “And you don’t even know why, I bet.”

“No,” Caleb wheezed, as he blocked another swing of Kane’ blade. “But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“I’ve not only caught up on the experience you robbed from me, I’ve gone beyond! I’m eight full levels higher than when we first met. And I’ve put that XP into dueling. Just so I could take you down when we finally met.”

Caleb swayed on his feet as he backed up another two steps.

“You definitely put some of those points into boasting, Kane.”

“Here’s what you don’t understand,” the Komtur went on, as he followed Caleb’s retreat. “Why the Myrkur will always win, why we’ll always be stronger than anyone else: because the lives of NPCs don’t matter. Once I returned to life, I rejoined the Myrkur to take the experience, the life from others. Think how many I had to slaughter in order to jump eight more levels. Just to vanquish you, one-on-one.”

Caleb’s stomach swam with sick indignation. Not so much from the wounds. But from the knowledge of how many lives had been taken by Malum Kane in this sick obsession. How many the Myrkur needed to keep their cult growing.

Then he saw it.

A shadow blocked out the light from the shaft. It was a big shadow, definitely bigger than one cast by a human. Crunching noises, the sound of wood lattice being shoved aside, came from above. Kane hesitated.

Caleb chanced a swing at his opponent. It was blocked with a clang! Kane grimaced, then advanced again with a series of slashes, driving him back once more.

“The price for this was worth it,” Kane gloated. “I’d pay it again, gladly.”

“I’ll say this much,” Caleb admitted. “You’ve gotten good. Good enough to beat me in single combat.”

He got a smirk in return. “True. But still, that was a poor choice of last words.”

“Are they?” Now it was Caleb’s turn to grin, as a familiar fur-and-feathered shape wriggled down the shaft and landed on soft, sharp-taloned paws behind Malum Kane. “Now there’s something that you’ve failed to understand.”

Kane frowned. The word formed on his lips. What?

“I don’t have to do single combat anymore,” Caleb said. “It’s what making friends will do for you.”

Kane sensed the hulking presence behind him.

He whirled, holding his blade high. Grimshaw lunged forward with his jackhammer-stout griffin’s beak. That beak snapped closed on the cultist’s blade-wielding hand.

Malum Kane howled as dropped the sword. The hand he pulled back dripped red, and it was missing its three middle fingers.

The Komtur turned to run, but Caleb blocked him.

A single sideways slash with a cutlass, and Kane fell to the deck. The man’s throat opened in a gaping red line, spurting scarlet. He let out a gurgling croak, limbs convulsing before he finally went still.

“Art thou all right, Captain?” Shaw asked. The griffin’s beak was caked with both dried and fresh blood. He bore a few new cuts along his flank and wings, but he was able to put out a paw to steady his friend.

“I’ll need a visit from Tavia and Doc Harper,” Caleb admitted. “But I’ll live. What’s going on above decks?”

The drake’s chest puffed up in pride. “Thou shalt be pleased. The field of battle above decks is ours.”

With that, two more screens appeared in the Quest Window.

Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Attack and take the Myrkur sloop. The difficulty level of this quest may be altered depending on its crew and equipment. STATUS: COMPLETE. Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quest: Beat Komtur Malum Kane in a duel. Level of Quest has been upgraded due to ‘Grudge Match’ classification. STATUS: COMPLETE

A vast swirl of light lit up Caleb’s vision. The breathtaking feel of euphoria, of mainlining oxygen, filled his body with a series of jolting electric tingles.

The screen to his left lit up again, the numbers scrolled up, flashing as if he’d won the big prize at a slot machine.

Congratulations, Soul Traveler. Due to the completion of two major Quests and the vanquishing of a Recurring Villain, you have jumped two levels to Level Sixteen.

How appropriate, Caleb mused. Killing Malum Kane before, back on Irongrasp, that gave me my first new level. Now killing him gave me two more. Maybe I can do some good through all the evil he’s committed on the peoples of Avalon.

That thought brought a sad smile to his face as he dropped his cutlass with a clatter. He felt Shaw’s soft paws catch him as he slumped to the floor, bleeding and exhausted.