The pair gazed at him strangely, Reese with a furrowed brow, Tim with an actual hopeful smile.

“Shit, are you serious?” Tim asked. “I mean, I know we’re not exactly favored, but we can both throw javelins like you wouldn’t believe! You need talented warriors on your side...”

But Reese was glaring, earlier fear replaced, perhaps, by the memory of too many bitter disappointments. “Bullshit. There’s a city full of well-connected and trained guildies. Why would he need a pair of barely level 20 pariahs like us?”

Eric smirked. “Short answer. If you’re level anything, you’re still better than 90% of the zero level mortals that can only hope for a skill, less than 20% of those even being eligible for a crafting profession. And like I said, someone close to me also had to forge herself in fire, throwing javelins that could pierce a rat’s skull at fifty yards, spending all her days feeding the monsters so they wouldn’t feed on her family.”

Reese’s glare turned to a rueful grin. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how it was. All the dungeons we had access to? Nothing but giant mean rats. Criters that the orcs ate like we would eat pork.” He paled, glancing furtively all about.

Eric smirked. “Blackfang faction is gone. No food prohibition on my watch.”

The man flashed a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, yeah, truth of it is, most of us human Javelineers never took a role in any of the raids. The few actual orc Classers didn’t want to share the glory.” He snorted. “And they were a hell of a lot hungrier than they let on. And since mortal orc musketeers do not do well in rifts or delves, and all the Orc Classers had better things to do than spend all day in the sewers... all the humans like us were basically glorified rat handlers, since someone had to feed their tribe, and almost all our kills went to feeding those fucking monsters.”

The man flashed a fierce smile. “There. I said it!” he said with an odd bit of triumph in his voice. “I don’t hate the class, and I don’t hate myself. But my fucking ex employers...” Reese shook his head and sighed. “It feels good to be strong as an Olympian, able to jog for hours on end, even in armor. But when I played Wars of Warcraft 2.0, I was always a wizard, you know?”

Eric actually laughed at that, flashing the relieved-looking pair a good-natured smile. “So why not actually get some practice with wands? Get some basic instruction? See if you have a knack for it? Maybe, who knows? If you can actually make it to level 50, however many months, or years that might take, where you will get one final shot to evolve your class.”

Tim gazed at Eric for long moments before chuckling bitterly, forcing a smile. “You’re fucking with us a little bit, right? Sure as shit, no one’s going to bother teaching a pair of ex orcers like us how to use a wand out of the goodness of their heart. The only dungeon with unlimited room not claimed by the strongest guilds is an Extremely Poor tier death trap that even experienced hunters who we paid the last of our coin to, to show us how not to die in there, made clear we won’t net any more profit after a week of risking our lives than a cute chick would working as a waitress at any decent place here in Freetown!” Tim chuckled bitterly. “Not that anyone will give anything but shit tips to ugly fuckers like us, and Classsers would get pissed if we steel jobs from normies, especially the cute girls that half of them are hitting on, but if I had known that was how all this shit would play out, I never would have risked a 90% death rate in the fucking pods. Gilton got liberated, and I’d be better off as a mortal working at Appledees!”

Reese nodded. “Only thing that dungeon is good for is quickly getting to level 15 if you got a crew who’s got your back, and from there, slowly grinding up to level 20. Because with the market saturated and the hides now worthless, the only thing getting you money is the rare bit of copper or lead ore that will net you a handful of copper feathers, and you better scrub your hands real good before eating anything.”

Tim sighed. “That crew did teach us the inns and outs. Now my bro and I might actually survive if we enter on our own. But when we asked if they wanted some extra help… they laughed in our faces.”

Reese smirked. “And their healer, a cute chick who reminds me of my sister, god rest her soul, pitied us so much that she made them give us half our coin back. Just to ‘get on our feet,’ she said.”

He chuckled bitterly. “Now that’s a class in demand, that a bunch of hungry mercenary assholes would still give half their earned silver to shmucks like us on the girl’s say-so.”

Eric winced. “Shit. Extremely Poor tier dungeon that only drops copper and led ore and low quality beast hides that have saturated the market long ago. Worse, the meat’s bad, so you can’t even make a buck as a hunter, and you still might end your day hungry as a pauper after butchering horrors all day.”

Eric gave a pitying shake of his head. “I don’t even know how Freetown feeds itself. But sure as shit, it’s a really bad deal for anyone who doesn’t have a choice spot in a coveted guild running one of the very few dungeons that don’t stretch over miles but actually have loot drops and a boss and I’m guessing edible meat.”

Tim nodded. “How fucked up is it that even 20th level adventurers are now struggling so badly they’re ending up in debt?”

Eric flashed a cold smile. “Not odd at all. The goblins are responsible for the original dungeon formation when they claimed this territory and set up Freetown, along with Blue Corp.”

The pair flinched, looking at Eric in dawning realization and outrage.

“Fuck! Those fuckers don’t care about making money off the dungeons here… they just want us all in debt to them!” Tim hissed.

Eric’s smirk turned ice hard. “You’re right. They’re sworn goal is to strip-mine this entire planet and claim all its resources. And, to them, humans are just one more resource.” He glared at the odd collage of wooden houses and brick and mortar buildings just beyond the gate and the people making their way to and fro, Eric seeing the hint of desperation behind so many plastic smiles.

“There is a reason why I declared Vendetta against those bastards.”

Tim and Reese gazed at Eric for long moments. “Fuck,” Reese whispered. “Those little shits are even worse than I thought.”

Tim nodded. “I’m beginning to think they’re just as bad as the orcs. If not worse.” He paled under Eric’s glare. “At least the orcs weren’t looking to ship us all offworld, just to make a profit on our sale. They needed someone to repair their shit, make their houses, and farm their rat warrens.”

Reese sighed and backed away from the gate as a band of adventurers with bows and spears on horseback, leading a wagon stacked with fresh game, slowly made their way to the city entrance.

“Well, it looks like we’re royally fucked, no matter what we do.” Reese made a grand gesture. “Pass with our fucking blessings.” He exchanged looks with Tim. “Let’s pack up and get out of here. Our supposed employers were just setting us up to die.”

“I know that, but where the hell are we going to go?” Tim shook his head, glaring at the buildings behind them. “The trade caravans stopped two weeks ago, and no one is saying why. We’re basically stuck here, unless we want to risk going through the wildlands together. But we sure as shit can’t stay here and turn to hunting in the grasslands full time, like the crew heading here now, because refusing to die to Orcbane here mean’s we’re now officially on the goblins’ shit list!”

Eric cleared his throat, deliberately projecting his voice loud enough for the steadily approaching hunters to hear. “Then why not head to a territory with not one, but twelve Rich Tier delves, filled with game to hunt, resources to gather, sweet tasting meat, and furs, hides, and other resources Blue Corp will pay top tier credits for? For a 20% cut to the owner, mind you. But 80% of the profit you’d earn jumping through portals leading to realms blessed both by Promise of Adventure and Adventurer’s Paradise means you’re still orders of magnitude better off there than farming death trap dungeons here.”

Eric’s smile grew wide at the looks the pair of guards were giving him, to say nothing of the five slowly approaching adventurers turned hunters, deliberately keeping themselves as quiet and unobtrusive as they could, as if eager to glean whatever rumors they could about places even slightly better off than the poverty pit Freetown was turning into, for far too many.

Just as the goblins had no doubt planned.

Tim eyes widened. “Are you fucking serious? A full dozen delves our Interfaces don’t ping as being Extremely Poor? Hell, I’d take on a thousand credit debt just for access to a Standard Tier Delve I didn’t have to compete with elite guilds just to access!”

Eric chuckled, eyes twinkling with warmth he was surprised to find was entirely genuine. “Then isn’t it nice to know that there are actual Wealthy Tier Delves with plenty of room for you and all your friends, at least one of which is chock full of fat wild game, numerous beasts with luxurious furs worth plenty of Silver, and a budding alchemist’s dream of magical ingredients for harvesting?”

Tim and Reese were gazing at him with such desperate hope that Eric winced, forced to appreciate anew that these goofballs had never been his enemies. They were just a pair of desperate men trying to survive in a world where they kept getting dealt shit hands. Like millions of other unfortunate souls.

“So, what’s the catch?” Said a gruff, weathered voice belonging to the salt-and pepper haired man behind Eric, apparently the spokesmen for the group of hunters, none wearing more than light, flexible shirts of mail, half helms that wouldn’t impair the senses at all, and leather boots reinforced with boiled rawhide. The man in question was presently scratching a well-trimmed beard, ice blue eyes gazing intently his way. And for all that the crow’s feet by his eyes and wind-weathered features spoke of a man in his forties, he radiated the Vitality of any youth in his prime.

Eric grinned at the man with his rugged jawline and B-list movie actor looks, understanding at once why he was his party’s spokesman. “A great question! The catch is, you’re all subcontractors to the original owner, who demands only a 20% cut of whatever resource you find! Barring of course whatever meat you yourself eat, or whatever skins you or a craftsman in your group uses to make whatever sweet loot you can for personal use or resale. Because the owner, though a sharp bastard, actually cares about the fate of humanity, and is the farthest thing from an asshole.”

The man snorted at that. “And where’s this supposed Rich Tier dungeon located?”

Eric held the man’s gaze for long moments. “Ashland territory. Presently owned and operated by Blue Corp. And everyone who’s not in a state of Vendetta or War with Blue Corp or that territory’s founder is welcome to come and adventure to their heart’s content, so long as they swear an oath not to kill or assault others while there, save in an agreed upon duel or low key barroom brawl or the like, and swears they will cause no deliberate harm, directly or indirectly, to the founder or those he holds dear.”

This earned a handful of blank stares. Eric quickly spoke on.

“Best of all, there’s not just one, but twelve Rich Tier delves out there, chock full of game to catch, furs to claim, precious ores in at least a few, I’m almost positive, and exquisitely ripe fruit and spirit herbs to harvest that I bet any alchemist would pay good money for. Fruit that just might hold extra stat boons for a daring few. All in all, those delves promise a wealth of resources to claim as your own. True Paradise for any adventurer, as your System Interface should make perfectly clear once you enter any of those metaphoric gold mines!” He grinned as what were now nearly a dozen cynical faces suddenly widened with wonder, and hope as well.

A girl dressed entirely in leathers whistled, soft brown eyes locking with his own. “Are you fucking serious? Not just below average or Fair but an actual Wealthy Tier dungeon? A chance to finally pay off all our goddamned debts?”

Eric solemnly nodded. “Very serious. Best of all, Blue Corp, the guys responsible for the one non-slimy quarter of Freetown, are the ones presently building a beautiful European style city just as picturesque as any tourist town or Renaissance fair, complete with actual parks and a tree-lined boulevard for the main shopping districts. A town to be filled with boutique stores that will be designed to both cater to your every need, as well as bulk buy all the sweet, sweet loot you’ll be bringing out of each of the twelve delves.”

The handsome spokeman’s features hardened. “So there’s the catch. They’ll buy our hard-earned furs and hides for pennies on the dollar.”

Eric firmly shook his head. “My partners aren’t in the business of being assholes. If you don’t like Blue Corp prices, just leave us twenty percent of your take, and you can wait to fill your entire wagon thrice over, then cart it over to Freetown or wherever else you like to sell.”

He frowned thoughtfully as everyone’s gazes locked intently on him. “Actually, that’s a good idea. We should start establishing trade caravans to whatever stable cities are out there. Increase our market size, maximizes our profits, and bring fresh adventurers to our little neck of the woods.”

The group’s spokesman paled. “Wait, you’re saying you’re the founder of this territory?”

Eric grinned, saying nothing.

The girl’s eyes suddenly widened. “Hey, I’ve heard of this cat. That’s Eric Orcbane! He’s the one who tore through all those orc territories. Fucker declared genocide on the Blackfang alliance, and actually pulled it off!”

Eric smirked. “Technically it was Vendetta, but that does sort of have genocidal overtones, just like in my favorite movie. All three versions!” He said with a too bright smile, earning a glare from his mother. Before feeling far too many eyes staring at him far too intently.

He quickly pointed east. “There. About twenty miles east, through these grasslands, you’ll find Ashland Territory. We’ve already begun building the first of what will be a dozen towns, located at the Northwest tip of the territory, and I invite you all to try your luck in Hunter’s Haven, our interim name for the closest delve.”

He grinned at his mom.

“In fact, I invite you all to tell all your friends. All your friends’ friends, and all the guilds. Who knows? if you guys work together, maybe you can all squeeze some coin, or perhaps some choice spots in the guild of your choice, for letting them know about these sweet, sweet, wealthy-tier hunting grounds, with no need to fight or duel for quickly filled delving slots, since each pocket realm is miles wide, and we now have twelve of them.”

Nearly a dozen adventurers, guardsmen and hunters alike, gazed at Eric for long anxious moments. Eric suppressed a wince, knowing all too well that his own dreams of economic abundance wouldn’t mean much if no one even tried out his dungeons to let others know that yes, it was the real deal, and spread the word.

And how long could Blue Corp realistically spend what might be billions of credits into building picturesque, scenic adventuring towns if they generated nothing but major losses? Especially after Arlen Ort’s incredibly shady bullshit not only depleted his billion cash reserves he left in their bank, but tacked on another half billion debt on the side. A debt Eric somehow knew it would be up to him to handle, before his dreams of a continentally recognized Blue Card or a prosperous Ashland would come to fruition. His belly was doing flip-flops at the very thought of the headaches that would soon be in store for him, and he had to fight not to gaze imploringly down at the pair of jaded guardsmen. Because if even they thought it was too good to be true, then sure as hell, no one else was giving his baby a shot.

Slowly, the bearded spokesman turned to the pair of tired-looking Javelineer guards, right before flashing a thousand megawatt smile. “Guard business sure doesn’t pay what it once did, huh?”

Tim’s hard features eased into what could almost be considered a smile, as if knowing exactly where this was going. “That it certainly doesn’t, Grey. How are you, this fine day?”

Grey chuckled softly. “Sorry me and mine gave you so much shit last week.” He stole a bemused glance Eric’s way. “Clearly Orcbane isn’t holding grudges against people just trying to make their way in post apocalyptic paradise, like some had suggested.”

Tim nodded. “He seems like a good sport in my book.”

“That he does,” Grey said. “So, Tim, how would you and your brother like to formally join my Guild?”

Eric blinked at that. As did the pair of guards.

“It sounds like this first Delve, at least, is all about hunting big game,” Grey went on. “And you know we’re the best hunters in all of Freetown. And more to the point, if you’re members of my guild, everyone will know orcers… I mean, former Javelineers and Berserkers, are no longer pariah. A point we’ll emphasize, together, just as soon as we rope in the other guilds for as large a pot of gold as we can squeeze from them, for the location.”

He flashed Eric his most winning smile. “With a twenty percent cut of whatever… donations they might send our way earmarked for your worthy self, of course.”

Eric chuckled. “Sure, why not? The very fact that one of their own is hyping it up in such a way as to make them actually pay for the information will make them that much more willing to give my delves a fair shot. Just to make it worth the money they invested, if nothing else. Because people will value an expensive gift far more than a cheap trinket… even if they’re both the same thing.”

Grey’s eyes twinkled as he smiled in approval. “That is indeed how this wager is won, lad. It’s good to see that your mother raised no fools. And since I’m guessing your goal is to grab as many subcontractors as you can… when news of the dozen largest guilds pulling out of Freetown hits the streets, adventurers will be fleeing in droves to try their luck in richer waters before the month is out. I guarantee it.” His smile hardened. “So long as these delves are as good as you say.”

Eric grinned right back. “And if it doesn’t work out, if I prove to be full of shit, you’re still pocketing a fortune in credits and gold, and can point the finger at me.” He nodded in bemused approval when Grey smirked, but didn’t deny it. “You’re a guild leader smart enough to work all the angles, and do whatever it takes to survive. I can respect that.”

Eric turned to smile at the men and women, spears held casually in hand, now gazing at him in either frank appraisal, or with something uncomfortably close to awe. “I think you’re guild’s in good hands.”

Grey laughed. “I’d sure like to think so. Happy hunting while you’re here, kid, though I do hope you don’t turn our fair city, corrupt as it is, into a war zone.” He then turned to a coolly smiling Aurelia. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing low in his saddle as his party moved on.

An act that earned a couple of confused looks and hastily mimicked bows, while the girl in the wagon, presently casting some kind of preservation or cooling magic on the meat, gazed at Eric’s mother with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I know who that is! That’s Aurelia Silver! The actress! What’s she doing out here?”

Her closest guild-mates paled, wincing apologetically Aurelia’s way. “That’s the Winter Queen. She’s the one who almost froze all of Freetown! Just smile and bow your head. Smile and bow your fucking head!” the archer among them hissed as they made their way toward their Guildhall in what Eric guessed was the heart of the city.

Tim and Reese bit their lips, gazing furtively between Eric and the band of adventurers, until a beaming Grey waved back at them.

“Well, newbloods, you coming or not?”

Tim’s eyes brightened like a boy being offered sweets. “Yes, sir! Come on, bro, second chances and all that!”

Reese swallowed, slamming his fist to chest as he bowed Eric’s way. “Thank you, Orcbane.” He said, visibly trembling as he turned to Eric’s mother before quickly bowing his head. “Thanks for not freezing Freetown to a block of ice… Winter Queen.”

Aurelia rolled her eyes as the pair dashed to follow the others.

“So dramatic.”

Eric snorted as he climbed back in the open-hatched velimobile, sparing a final glance the way of the rapidly departing adventurers. “So says the actress.”

His mother’s bemused grin turned to a hard stare sending shivers down his spine as soon as the adventures were out of earshot. A few whispered syllables had the ice-cold breath of winter swirling in the car and a shivering Eric was suddenly certain that not even a goblin seer could hear the cross words slipping from his mother’s lips.

“Credit for thinking on your feet, my son. Allowing word of mouth and rumor from the locals to drum up excitement, when bold declarations from flashy outsiders would earn only scorn and cynical derision. Of course, the advantage to a city full of desperate souls already feeling the goblin nooses squeezing about their metaphoric necks means we might just get that flux of adventurers to jump start Ashland’s economy to first tier territory status within 12 months time.”

Eric winced at his mother’s expression. “Then why do you look like it’s only because I’m your son that you haven’t ripped out and eaten my heart just now?” He flashed a bitter smile, revealing the ire he normally hid so well. “Like you did that reporter you devoured in front of a scared-shitless Elonia all those years ago. She loves you more than you’ll ever know, but in her nightmares she’s still trembling and hiding and desperately hoping you wouldn’t tear her heart out and eat her too. And that’s the reason why she started getting high, Mother. Not because her blood is any weaker than yours, or mine.”

Aurelia inhaled to speak, before blinking as Eric’s words registered. Her eyes flashed with fury, and for just a heartbeat, Eric felt the crushing weight of a Silver. Before it instantly faded, his mother closing her eyes and dipping her head, the taste of winters’ regret stinging even Eric’s nostrils as an unexpected flury of snow instantly chilled the muggy day.

“Touche,” she said, flashing a bitter smile that really was all razor-sharp shark teeth.

- Dark fairy indeed. And that blood’s flowing through my veins as well. - Eric thought with a wince as his mother spoke on, with the pearl white and completely normal, utterly human teeth that had gotten so much screen time once more in evidence between lush, ruby red lips.

“We’ve both made foolish moves we had cause to regret. Only yours was made three years after mine. And yours might well cost us the twenty thousand souls I’m doing everything I can to save.”

Eric froze, heart lurching in his chest. “Fuck. What did I do?”

His mother glared at him for long moments. “Right now, as of this second, the goblins are sitting pretty, secure in the knowledge that the only dungeons available for humans to level up in are White tier delves that never go beyond level 20. And for all that at least some of our enemies and allies are aware of the Towers of Zor manifesting here on Earth, in a territory you helped to claim and cleanse, of all places, everyone knows that those delves will be reserved for the elite who will in turn provide you with handsome boons down the line. Certainly the towers will be forbidden to all the low-level rabble fighting over Earth’s opening territories at the moment.”

Her gaze hardened. “But what they didn’t know, no matter how their Interface messages bluffed and implied, e-mails you did your best to ignore completely, is that you have forged no less than twelve Endless Delves, each with 800 square miles chock full of spirit beasts, lower tier abominations, and extremely profitable herbs, spirit grass, and arcane fruit that any adventurer or, indeed, alchemist, could make an absolute fortune from.”

Here Eric braved a cheeky grin. “I fear your forgetting a very important point, mother.”

She quirked a jaded brow. “And what would that be, my too clever son?”

“One, I never stated just how much surface area each of those delves had. I said a handful of square miles. Not 800. Enough to entice hungry adventurers… not enough to alarm the powers that be… not devastatingly so. Not yet, anyway. And as for the endless levels allowing Earth’s champions to finally ascend past the 20s and early 30s… if you think back, you’ll realize I didn’t say a single damn word about any of that. I emphasized how wealthy and profitable the hunting, exploring, and resource gathering will be. But I didn’t say a damn word to imply that the threats faced or payouts earned would ever grow beyond White Tier.”

His mother gazed at him for long moments, a slow smile gracing her lips. “And when they discover for themselves those truths… boss monsters promising riches and the path to ever greater challenges and reward in levels that will ascend at least through Bronze challenges without end… it will make their excitement and claims of untapped riches all the greater when they return to spread the word. Rumors will blaze through Freetown like wildfire!” she chuckled softly. “And from there, a glorious mass exodus will follow.”

“That’s my hope,” Eric assured.

His mother sighed. “Unfortunately, even rumors of a dozen wealthy tier dungeons of supposedly modest size still risks upsetting the status quo. Careful as you were, when word of that reaches the goblins… our ability to entice them with your prizes will shatter! Right now, they are secure in the conceit that they have nothing to worry about by allowing our trade of men for cannons and other items of interest. Because very few Classers anywhere on Earth, save Guildmasters and their elite seconds now hoarding the boss fights of a limited handful of White Tier dungeons, can actually break through to level 30. But the minute word of a dozen wealthy dungeons reinvigorating impoverished adventurers makes the round, our enemies will be far more leery and on their guard than they would otherwise be. And once the true significance of your delves gets out… that risks jeopardizing everything we’ve worked for! They will then know the folly of the concessions we would ring from those little bastards!”

Eric gazed at his mother for long seconds. “Please tell me you’re not going to go kill Grey and his friends, people who used to be your super-fans back when life was normal, just because I opened my big fat mouth.”

His mother smiled reassuringly, rubbing his head. “Of course not, darling. A faerie is nothing if she doesn’t keep her word, and I did have to, ahem, make something of a reparation after our last… misunderstanding. And you, dear boy, would be ill-served shedding the blood of innocent humans, hours before you have to pull the greatest hustle of your life. Besides, Blue Corp might still be licking its wounds at how badly Arlen played us all, but we still must press forward. It’s time to get the word out, even if Blue hasn’t come close to completing its development projects. Adventurers are hardy folk. A clapboard town with a single upscale hotel, restaurant, confectioner, and an open invitation to as many traders as possible will serve well enough until Blue somehow gets the capital needed to go forward with their grand real estate venture once more.”

Eric nodded. “I feel the same. So, what’s our next move?”

Her mother flashed a grim smile. “The next move is we visit family and drop off those revenants hinting at a cultivation origin you made clear you have no intention of revealing. A move I agree with. Then we push for the meeting immediately. And since we deliberately planned to enter half a day late, just to piss those fools off and force their hands… we’ll be guilty of nothing but actually showing up on time.”

Eric gazed at his mother for long moments, thoughts racing, all the ideas he had been playing with on the drive over gelling into something concrete.

If things actually managed to go according to plan, it’d be the greatest performance of his thoroughly unremarkable acting career.

If things didn’t go according to plan...

His mother gave him a curious look, tilting her head, a slow smile curving her perfect lips. “Do tell, Eric. I sense your thoughts revolving in all sorts of delicious ways.”

Eric clenched his jaw, heart racing, hardly able to believe he was going to go ahead with it, but remembering all too well his mother’s hardest lessons. The ones he never dared take to heart.

Because the one time he had truly let go, the one time he had let his inner savage out…

He shook his head, pushing the final nightmare seconds of Elonia’s first lover and predator out of mind, though he’d never forget the pop of his knuckle as he sent the surprised producer hurtling over the building ledge.

His first kill.

At 17 years old.

And he could never look at himself in the mirror the same way again.

Because far from being the sympathetic character of a feel-good movie special that he had always thought of himself as before, he had far more in common with the hard-eyed monsters in children’s bodies who ended up frying in a chair after a string of murders by the movie’s end.

Eric swallowed, shaking the unwanted thoughts away.

The past was bullshit, and his sister was safe.

He had no regrets.

None at all.

And he had saved the entire Sylvan faction.

Even if he had declared Vendetta and wiped out 16,000 orcs, making them his undead slaves for all time.

“Fuck,” Eric said with a hiss, his heart pounding in his chest, at that moment wanting nothing more than to race for fresh territory and pit his life against horrors unimaginable, to savor the sweet savage rush of killing, claiming territories and leveling up like mad. Far easier a task than being forced to glimpse his own corroded soul.

“Fuck,” he said again, surprised when his mother’s comforting grip gently squeezed his arm.

“It’s alright,” Aurelia softly said. and Eric swallowed with relief, realizing that somehow it was alright, sighing when his mother’s soothing presence pushed those ugly thoughts out of mind.

“The past is gone, and billions have already fallen. Whatever transgressions you think you’re guilty of… they are a tiny drop in the bucket compared to the good you’ve already accomplished.”

She squeezed him tight, surprising him with the warmth of her gesture. “My adorable son. Who saved his sister, his people, and provided a path to assure the ascension of both your bloodlines. A path that will lead countless heroes to Bronze, in the decades and centuries to come.”

She flashed him the same soothing smile that had comforted him since he was a little boy. “Now why don’t you tell mummsy the delicious idea I sense percolating in your brain? I know it troubles you, Eric.” She furrowed her brow. “And somehow, it ties right into your... acting? That’s unexpected.”

Eric swallowed as the car pulled up to Grim’s palatial manor. But as much as he missed his friends and wanted a few brief minutes of bonding, there were some things that needed to be said.

“Mom, you know how you said my greatest crime as an actor was trying to mimic my parts, not live those parts?”

His mother nodded. “Method acting is a powerful tool, for those who’s insights are based on gut-level intuition, as opposed to careful analysis.”

Eric smirked. “Yes. I know. My scholarship was 13 until very recently. It’s a lot higher now. Ha ha.” Eric swallowed, smirk turning to a nervous grimace. “There’s a reason why I never let myself… go, when trying to force out all those scenes. Why I never just let it flow.”

His mother gazed at him, saying nothing.

Eric winced, realizing she wasn’t going to make this easy.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Remember all those dark jester films you kept trying to cajole me into auditioning for, pitting me against Shadow man and Raven girl?”

His mother silently nodded.

Eric swallowed. “Well, those were exactly the kind of movies I could never audition for. Not in a million years. Because if I had given it my heart, if I had really ‘lived’ the character...” He met his mother’s gaze. “Shit. You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Say it.” Two ice cold words, hammering into Eric’s soul.

“Alright!” He said, breath ragged. “If I had tried to be those villains, embrace their psyche, their mentality… if I had dared to fill my heart with their bitter manic glee…” he shook his head, glaring into his mother’s eyes. “I would have gotten the part. And it’d be a fucking miracle if I wasn’t in jail by the end of the production because I would have BEEN those psychopathic assholes. Free of conscience or regret, reveling in the sheer madness of chaos, the dark sweet joy of making my enemies pay in blood and tears for every insult, humiliation, or slight I had ever suffered at the hands of school bullies or anyone else, before you pulled Elonia and I both out of school. And now, I’m almost sure you had very good reason to.”

He flashed a bitter smile, recalling so well the sweet hot joy he had felt, socking the jaw of his sister’s tormentor so hard he had stumbled right off the Twin Tokyo Towers. The look of horrified disbelief on the doomed man’s features had been a source not of shame… but fierce exultation. The only shame Eric felt had been acknowledging that ugly truth about himself. A truth he hid no longer, locking gaze with his mother, radiating a power he could scarce comprehend.

Even if her savagery was one he recognized all too well.

“Because I’m a twisted dark faerie, just as bloodthirsty as you. And all my dreams of heroic sacrifice, honor, and glory, are just fucking masks I wear so I can look in the mirror and not see the monster smiling back at me.”

His mother gazed at him for long moments. “And yet you control it so well. So much better than most of the boys I suckled at my breast. Before having to end the reign of so many when they tore apart my kingdoms in their madness. Shedding so many tears when I buried them with my own two hands.”

Eric’s eyes widened in shock as his mother held him close. He heard nothing, but he felt the heaving of her sobs.

Yet when she pulled away, gazing gently at him, her features were flawless, a gentle smile in place, soft fingers stroking his cheeks, no tears shed, save his own.

“There’s a reason why I’ve always favored my daughters, Eric. For all that I love you all more deeply, more terribly than you could possibly fathom.”

Eric swallowed. “If I ever have children...”

She flashed a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Eric. A hybrid male like yourself can only sire daughters. I suspect that they will be just as sweet as Elonia, though hopefully not quite so fragile.”

Eric blinked at this, frowned as he recalled some odd tidbit Elonia had mentioned... then decided to let it go. If anything, it was one less worry to haunt his sleep. “Well good, I guess.”

His mother nodded, gazing at the manor alongside him. “So, as to your plan.” She flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re finally ready to become your character?”

Eric flashed a bleak smile. “Yeah. I’m ready to be fucking Fade, all the way.” He flashed a grin equal parts excitement and dread, flushing with exhilaration and a bit of shame as well. “Thing is… even if it’s an act… I might end up forgetting that it’s an act.”

His mother’s gaze hardened. “Just remember our goal, son of mine. As many young classless graduates as we can get consent to race through the gates. Because with your Tier 2 Ascension pod and the only administrator and goblins who had been in the know, so eager to claim it for themselves, mysteriously vanished… we have one more secret the goblin’s own greed prevented from spreading faction-wide, but a very limited window of opportunity before that enticing tidbit is known to all. Just as knowledge of so many of your secrets will soon be known to all.”

Eric’s smile matched his mother’s. “But not yet. Not for a few hours, at least. A few days if we’re lucky. And the goblins certainly have nothing to fear from classless elves with big dreams and zero resources or opportunities to use anything but zero tier pods and White tier delves.”

His mother nodded, flashing a surprised smile when Eric explained the nature of his plan.

“A path of devotion? How unexpected.”

Eric laughed. “I know. A path to power you don’t often see in western games. But if it explains how I got such absurd stats, to the extent your cloaking spell even reveals them. It will explain why the queen’s son, acting so much like the baron’s favored nephew, ha ha, might be willing to give up so much, for seemingly nothing in return.”

His mother nodded. “Nothing save for the adulation of thousands. Fueling his ascension along unexpected paths indeed.” His mother’s gaze turned grave. “Eric, I must warn you. They’re going to pull the most ruthless tricks you can imagine. You won’t like who they bring to the negotiating table to force your hand.”

Eric closed his eyes and swallowed the bile in his throat, almost certain he knew exactly what his mother was referring to, squeezing his hands so tightly. Eric ignored the pain, swearing to himself that he was ready.

That he could do this.

That he could look into his ex girlfriend’s eyes and ignore her desperate sobs while negotiating with the most ruthless hustlers in the system.

He knew he was in way over his head.

Hopefully he could count on a little help from his friends.