Zeke sat cross-legged on the bare earth, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. Nearby, Pudge lay on his back as he grappled with a giant crab claw and trying his best to turn it into a proper chew toy. It was hard and dense enough that it could do a fair imitation, but if Pudge exercised his full strength, his jaws would crush it to dust. Which was a problem, because it was one of the most durable things Zeke had been able to find.

But Zeke wasn’t concentrating on his frustrated companion. Instead, he was wholly focused on the runes embedded into the wall before him. They were complex – more so than any other fortification Zeke had been fortunate enough to study. His skill runes were infinitely more complicated, and he suspected that Beacon’s defenses were more intricate as well. However, the walls of Jariq had a characteristic that made them far more interesting than anything else Zeke had seen: just like the city itself, they were entirely man-made.

The foundations and much of the underlying structure of Beacon had been laid by the elves that had once occupied the Radiant Isles. They’d since disappeared; some thought them victims of a war with humanity, but Zeke suspected that they’d simply moved on, en masse, to the next plane. Whatever the case, they had been far more advanced than humankind, and even their leftovers had provided the basis for the most powerful and safest city on the continent.

And he felt certain that he’d only seen the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. He desperately wished he could go back to the city and inspect the runes without having someone standing over his shoulder. Or absent the constraints of time. For months – or in some respects, ever since he’d awoken at the bottom of the troll caves – he’d been rushing from one disaster to the next. It had been a boon for his overall strength, and he’d grown more in a few short years than most people did in an entire lifetime. More, he’d seen things few others had.

But had he really had a positive effect on the world?

He’d saved Pudge, rescued Abby from a horrible fate at Julio’s hands, and pulled Talia back from the brink of death. And that wasn’t even mentioning Tucker, who’d repaid Zeke’s heroic tendencies by one-upping him and staying behind in the demon realm. But aside from his three companions, was anyone better off because Zeke had been reborn into the Radiant Isles? He struggled to admit that they weren’t. In fact, given the rumblings of war coming from the west – a war Zeke had precipitated – an argument could be made for the exact opposite.

The question that truly haunted him was whether or not he’d made the right decisions along the way. At the time, everything had felt right. He’d tried to think about each decision before acting. But even so, he knew he could have chosen differently. He could have made better choices, and at almost every turn. That he hadn’t had already gotten people killed. And as the undead continued to surround Beacon, more would soon follow.

Many, many more.

And here he was, with his metaphysical eyes on a blank section of wall, just as he’d done for almost a month. It was enough to make him feel truly useless, even if he knew it had been necessary for his convalescence. Even more importantly, it was necessary for his mental state, which had been in a state of upheaval after Tucker’s sacrifice.

Zeke held no hope that the alchemist had survived. Certainly, Tucker had boasted of a plan, but Zeke knew it was an effort to make him feel better about the situation. Even Zeke, at full-strength, would have struggled to escape the army of demons that had begun to converge on the pyramid where the gate had been constructed. And that wasn’t even considering the fact that the atmosphere of that realm was toxic to Tucker.

No. He was dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, now.

So, instead of focusing on all the things he couldn’t change, Zeke continued to study the wall’s runes. They’d been designed to mimic Beacon’s aura, albeit at a much weakened level. It kept many of the lesser monsters at bay, weakening them and making proximity to Jariq uncomfortable. More powerful creatures could easily withstand it, but there was almost no reason for them to. Sure, Jariq was home to more than a few million humans, but they were no easy nut to crack. It was much more efficient for the monsters to hunt their way through the expansive desert, much as they had before Jariq even existed.

That wasn’t to say that monster attacks were uncommon. Barely a day went by when something didn’t brave the city’s defenses. But that was what the Sultanate was for. Warriors pledged to the mysterious rules of Jariq manned the walls, rebuffing any attacks. Their authority didn’t extend much past that, but, as important as they were to the city’s security, they tended to get whatever they wanted. Otherwise, they might let a monster or two through, and who knew what kind of damage that could cause?

It was a delicate balance, and one Zeke didn’t much care for. But he was a stranger, and who was he to tell others how to live? It was their city, after all.

And an impressive city it was, too. Jariq was a unique place, the only truly human city on the island continent. The other two major cities traced their origins back to the mysterious elves. As a result, it was more utilitarian in its design, with mostly identical buildings that had originally been constructed as the most efficient way to house the ever-growing population of reborn humans. Over time, some of its harsh edges had been filed down by adding more decorative buildings that resembled temples, pyramids, or palaces. And its drab sandstone was home to a multitude of colorful murals and, failing that, more garish graffiti. It was a city built on a foundation of necessity, but slowly molded into something that resembled a home.

Zeke sat there, tracing the runes’ lines and pondering ways he might improve them. He’d already lent his expertise to various repairs, wowing the city’s resident runesmiths, but most of that work was already done.

And as hours passed, Zeke couldn’t help but feel that his time in Jariq would soon be done as well. He didn’t belong. He wasn’t one of them. The Cataclysm, as they’d dubbed his use of his most powerful skill, was reminder enough of that. Everyone in the city walked on eggshells around him, terrified that, were they to say the wrong thing, he might fly off into a rage and finish his destruction of the city.

Of course, Zeke had tried to explain, but his explanations had fallen on deaf ears. The people of Jariq – even the elites – were blinded by his power.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Zeke asked without opening his eyes. “Or are you going to finally do what you’ve been thinking of doing since we got here?”

“I haven’t decided,” was Carlos’s reply. For hours, the man had been standing a few dozen feet away.

“Well, let me know when you do,” Zeke stated, still not reacting. “I’d hate to miss it.”

After seeing him going all-out, Zeke knew just how dangerous Carlos could be. And given that they were outside the city’s walls, a battle would result in minimal collateral damage. On top of that, Zeke felt the man’s skills sitting on the brink of activation. It had taken him a while to figure out what that tingling sensation in the back of his mind was, but the moment he did, he’d begun to recognize it as the movement of mana in the air. It wasn’t perfect – especially if the mana was dense – but he’d spent much of his convalescence working on his senses, and that time had been well-spent. Even now, he could vaguely sense a person’s – or, presumably, a monster’s – strength. It wasn’t as exact as using [Inspect] but given how frequently he forgot to use his identification skill, it was a helpful addition to his repertoire. On top of that, if he returned to the demon realm, where many of the denizens resisted inspection at all, it would be invaluable.

In any case, he could tell that Carlos was walking on the edge of action.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it,” Carlos spat.

“You’re the one who came out here to kill me,” Zeke answered, finally opening his eyes. “I think I’m being pretty damned reasonable here. I could have just beaten you to death the second I realized why you were here. Or just let Pudge melt you. I didn’t, though, because I’m hoping you’ll make the right decision.”

Carlos, who was wearing his customary black outfit, complete with a fluttering cloak, looked like he belonged on the cover a romance novel. No wonder Talia had grown so obsessed with the man, often following him around and watching him from afar. Even now, Zeke suspected that she was nearby. Watching. Waiting. He wondered what she’d do if it came down to a fight.

“The right decision?” Carlos scoffed. “You killed thousands of people. Making you pay would be justice.”

“You know it was more complicated than that,” Zeke said, finally pushing himself to his feet. If he was going to be impaled by a dozen shadow spikes, he wanted to be on his feet for it.

Carlos hung his head. “I do,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t excuse it. You didn’t think. You just did what you wanted to do. This time, it was twelve-hundred people. Next time, how many will it be? Ten-thousand? A hundred? Will you murder millions, all in pursuit of the greater good?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I know!” Carlos shouted, clenching his fists. Then, more quietly, he added, “I know. Because that would mean that you weighed the cost versus the benefit. You didn’t. We both know that. You simply acted on instinct. And twelve-hundred people died.”

“I didn’t see another option,” Zeke stated. Indeed, he’d been confronted by Itzli, a man he’d been told was notoriously difficult to put down. He’d only had a split-second to react, and he did. Had he intended the results to be so catastrophic? No. He’d be lying if he said he knew what would happen; in fact, he hadn’t even known how much power his skill had gathered. Certainly, he was aware that it was more than he’d ever unleashed before, but he’d had little context. He hadn’t known that there were hints of a higher concept within the skill.

“We could have taken him,” Carlos said. “The rest of us would have taken him apart, piece by piece.”

That was true. It had been the plan before they’d even stepped through the gate. What none of them had been prepared to admit, though, was that doing so would likely result in one or more of them being injured. The likelihood of death was high. And Zeke, with all his heroic tendencies, had been incapable of accepting that.

“One of you would have died.”

“And that would have been preferable to the deaths of thousands!” Carlos yelled.

“I disagree,” Zeke stated. “I know you want me to apologize. You want me to regret what happened. I wish people wouldn’t have died, but even knowing what I know now, I would make that same choice every single time.”

“And you don’t see the problem with that?” Carlos asked, pain evident in his voice.

“No,” Zeke answered, glaring at Carlos. “My friends are my family. I will do anything to protect them. I had hoped that would include you, but…well, I think we both know that’s not going to happen, now.”

It was an exaggeration. He’d always known that Carlos would likely go his own way once they escaped the demon realm. But he really didn’t want to have to kill the man. If nothing else, doing so would break Talia.

“They sent me out here to kill you, you know,” Carlos said, looking back toward the city. “They don’t trust you.”

“They shouldn’t,” Zeke said, assuming that Carlos was talking about his masters within the assassin’s guild. He didn’t want to go to war with the Crystal Spiders, but as far as he was concerned, they’d already pushed his back against a wall. If they kept pushing, he would be forced to do something drastic. “But right now, they’re not my enemy. You know I have no interest in staying here. The moment I’m back to full strength, I have other things to do.”

“I told them that.”

“And? What’d they say?” Zeke asked.

“They didn’t believe me,” Carlos answered. “You have the city in the palm of your hand. Even the Sultanate wouldn’t oppose you, now. They think you’re going to take over, and the moment you do, you’re going to eliminate them.”

Zeke sighed, then looked away. Carlos had clearly given up on killing him. His demeanor said that much. “What do you think it would take to get them off my back?” Zeke asked.

“Leave,” Carlos stated. “As soon as possible.”

“I had already planned as much,” he said. As much as he’d needed to take a few weeks to rest and recover, he was itching to move on. He had a quest to complete, levels to obtain, and, ultimately, he needed to ascend to the next plane. The Radiant Isles were just a stepping stone, and regardless of how much he might want to save everyone, he couldn’t let himself become mired in local politics.

Even if he wanted to. Despite the fact that he knew that there were probably good people within that organization, they’d wronged him when they’d sent a group to ambush Abby and him on the road north. Further, they had had a hand in abducting and sending people to join Micayne’s undead army. They deserved his punishment – of that, there was no mistake. It was only a question of priorities that kept him from acting.

And his friendship, young and likely ill-advised though it was, with Carlos. Carlos had only been a part of the group of a short while, but in that time, a bond had been formed. Zeke was loathe to sever that connection.

Or maybe Zeke was so desperate for human companionship that he would stoop to picking up any stray that wandered into his line of sight. Either way, he was the way he was, and he knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t easily change it.

“So, if I leave, they’ll let it be?” Zeke asked.

Carlos shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “Maybe? They’ll be less likely to send anyone else if I’m there, though. I could tell them I’m waiting on an opportunity. They’ll believe it, too. Anyone who attacked you head-on would be an idiot.”

“So, is that what you’d be doing if I let you tag along?” Zeke asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Waiting for an opportunity to end me?”

“No,” Carlos stated. “I’d prefer to think of it as keeping you in line.”

“But you will, won’t you?” was Zeke’s next question. “If I step over that line, you’ll do it.”

“Yes,” Carlos said without hesitation.

“Good,” Zeke stated. “Because I’d want you to. Pudge, you can stand down. And Talia, stop lurking. It’s creepy.”

Carlos flinched when, only a few yards behind him, Pudge let out a huff of annoyance before spewing a stream of black-laced fire into the sand. A moment later, Talia was standing at Zeke’s shoulder. Only her still rustling clothing was evidence she’d moved at all.

Carlos rubbed the back of his neck, saying, “I never had a chance, did I? If I’d have done it, I mean.”

“No,” was all Zeke said. What he left unsaid was that he wouldn’t have needed Pudge or Talia to meet the thread head-on. Carlos was powerful, and he packed quite a punch, but Zeke was confident that killing the man wouldn’t be a problem. That, more than any desire to pick up strays, was why he didn’t mind bringing Carlos along.