Fuckin' hell, Machus City was a big bitch of a place.

The city walls alone were something to gawk at—if you were the gawking type, which I pointedly was not. They towered in their sapphire glory, glowing with an inner light that made you squint if you stared too long, but also seemed to beckon you in a 'hey, look at me, I'm fuckin' shiny' kind of way. They also just looked like a pain in the ass to scale. Not that I was thinking of such things, mind you—everyone knows I am a law-abiding sort—but it's always good to keep one's options open.

But man, this place was outta control with the “schnazziness.” Even the goddamn cobblestones seemed to be etched with intricate designs. Houses, shops, and market stalls packed together like sardines in a tin, with their slanted roofs, colorful facades, and elaborately carved signboards. People everywhere, shouting, haggling, arguing, laughing, and just generally making a bloody racket. A thousand smells assaulted my nostrils, from the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meats to the less appealing scent of city sewage. Thanks for that, Machus City.

And it was fucking huge. I mean, really bloody enormous. The sapphire walls stretched out in all directions, their blue reflections shimmering on the rooftops below. I could see the towers and spires of the inner districts rising in the distance, an urban jungle made of stone and wood. And the city center...gods, the city center was a nightmare of winding streets and labyrinthine alleyways, with a massive, opulent palace squatting right in the middle of it all like a toad on a lily pad. It was definitely more than anything my little hometown could ever aspire to be, and it made me feel small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Thanks again, Machus City, you self-absorbed, overgrown, pompous bitch of a metropolis.

I was standing in the middle of the fantasy equivalent of Times Square on Black Friday, except it was basically the Dark Ages here, so it was more like "Black Plague Every Fucking Day."

The marketplace was a giant clusterfuck of haggling, bickering, and the occasional pickpocketing. It was like navigating the worst kind of farmer's market, but instead of organic bed sheets, free-range candles, and farm-to-table firewood they were selling magic potions and discount smells. Everyone was squeezed together like sardines in a can—and not the nice kind of sardines. The ones left in the back of the cupboard ‘til all that was left were scraps and regret.

The buildings around were an M.C. Escher heroin-binge-mishmash of architectural vomit. Punctuating every third building or so were tall gothic-looking towers with those…uh, dome-thingies makin’ ‘em look like overgrown mushrooms.

That air, though? Don't even get me started. It was a fucking spoiled potpourri of scents. Freshly baked bread and ripe fruit were playing footsie with the stinky funk mist of a multitude of…sweaty people. And goddamn, the noise sure was something else. The 'thud thud' of a blacksmith trying to beat the shit out of some poor piece of metal, sellers shouting their deals like drill sergeants, and some asshole tolling the distant cathedral bell like his fucking life depended on it.

But there I was, right in the thick of what looked like a medieval music festival without a goddamn clue where to go next.

That was when I spotted him.

A tiny fucking terrorist. A kid no taller than my belt buckle—the little shit who blew me up.

I released an involuntary shiver. The memory of being splattered across half the forest wasn't exactly something you shake off with a hot bath. Seeing him there, snot-nosed and bright-eyed, I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated irritation.

He saw me at the same moment, his eyes widening like a cat caught mid-shit. Then the derpy little squirt took off running.

"I’m gonna beat your head in, you pissant fuck!" I hollered, pushing my way through the crowd.

The chase was on. The kid wove through the crowd like a greased…greasy thing, darting between legs and ducking under carts. I barreled after him, stumbling and swearing up a storm as I plowed through the assembled mass of folks just going about their day.

“Fuckin’ shit, you little fuck—shit, sorry ma’m—just gonna…yep, scoochin’ through here—outta the way, assholes! I’m on the hunt! Goddamn cock—sonofa—oops, my b, my b! Excuse you! Woah! Fucking Christ—fucking Christ! Ulp! Ha-ha! Ah, dick piss! Wait—hol’ up! Get back here!”

A cart full of fruit fell into my path, something akin to apples bouncing everywhere like fucking ping pong balls. I slipped, slid, and then went down, taking out a pile of cabbages with me. The vendor screeched like I'd just murdered her firstborn.

"Oh, shut up, lady!" I grunted from the ground. “I don’t have time for this!”

Then I scrambled back up and continued the chase.

“And you better not show up later only to have me conveniently destroy your cabbages again!” I shouted over my shoulder.

The kid was good, I'll give him that. He had the agility of a coked-up squirrel and the sheer fucking audacity of a dumpster rat. But I was an orc on a mission. This little fucker had to pay for surprise exploding me into confetti.

It wasn’t long before I finally cornered him in a dead-end alley. He looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes, and for a moment, I almost felt bad. But then I remembered the agonizing pain of being blown up and my sympathy evaporated.

"Caught you, ya little shit," I growled, looming over him. “Time to pay the…the, uh…the me!”

The kid looked at me defiantly, his chin jutting out.

"You can't catch me!" he said, summoning up every ounce of pre-teen arrogance he had.

I laughed disbelievingly, gesturing to the lack of throughway.

"Really, dipshit? 'Cause it looks like I just fucking did."

He glared at me, his small hands clenched into fists.

"You won't get away with this."

“Get away with what? Revenge for you killing me? First off: yes I fucking will. Second: who the fuck had you assassinate me? That fucking hurt you ugly little hatchet-faced muskrat.”

I wished I’d have been able to weave a spectrum of colorful pun-centric insults based around his name, but…I didn’t know it. But for the moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I’d caught the little runt. The rest would come in due course, and boy, was I looking forward to it.

Reaching out, I tried to grab the kid by the scruff of his shirt and hopefully shake some information out of him.

But he somehow dodged my grab and…slapped me. Hard.

The open-handed smack landed square on my face, and I swear it stung worse than that time I got mule-kicked in the balls practicing wrestling moves on my cousin Denny.

"Jesus fuck!" I swore, rubbing my stinging cheek. "What the hell you been eating, kid? Bricks?"

Ignoring my complaint, the boy muttered something under his breath. Before I knew it, the tiny terror was lifting off the ground and shooting towards the roof like a goddamn bottle rocket.

Fuckin’...magic Spell-havin,’ bitch-ass punk!

"Hey!" I bellowed, utterly flabbergasted. He turned around mid-air, sticking his tongue out at me.

"Oh fuck the hell outta this!" I called up, anger rising like bile in my throat.

I really wish I hadn’t used up my up-and-at-’em necklace!

I’d, uh, used the last charge of it to get over a large puddle earlier. Priorities, right?

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed hold of the eaves trough and started hauling my ass up. It was a struggle, and I wheezed like a ninety-year-old smoker as I clambered up onto the roof.

"God, I'm so fucking out of shape," I muttered to myself, panting.

I saw him bolting along—clearly out of his…magical flight powers, or whatever—and darting over slanted roofs and creating quite a sizable gap between us. I didn’t let it deter me, though. Instead, it fueled me as I chased after the taunting, mucus-faced munchkin. The rooftops were tricky terrain, covered in loose clay tiles and the occasional sleeping cat. I nearly tripped over a rotund tabby, and the animal screeched at me, its look of hissing outrage would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so fucking annoyed.

But I kept going. No one blows me up and gets away with it—no one. Especially not a smarmy little brat who…slapped me.

"You're in for it now, you little shit!" I shouted, heaving heavily as I chased him over the rooftops under the bright blue sky. The kid just laughed, his childish glee echoing through the air, filling me with an intense desire to catch him and wipe that smug look off his face by punching it.

Finally, he reached what was essentially another dead end. The dumb little asshole had cornered himself on a rooftop with no nearby vantages to leap to.

Perfect.

I wanted to know who sent him to kill me, and my patience was running thin. I mean, it’s not like I was going to kill him. He was still a kid, after all. But he was, inexplicably, either working for someone, or was paid to do that. And, I mean, fucking seriously, though…

Actually, maybe I should cap his ass—what kind of adolescent was super comfortable with offing someone?

Let’s just file that under things not to think about at the moment.

“Outta upward mobility?” I mused, hopping on to the same roof he was stranded on and cracking my knuckles. “Sucks to suck, you little ditch berry.”

“Stay back, bitch!” The kid yelled at me, reaching into the satchel at his side. He withdrew a short, thin piece of wood that I realized after a second of scrutinizing was probably a wand.

“Don’t you sass me, you fuckin’ gremlin!” I shouted. “And if you even think about blasting me with—”

FWOOF! FWOOF! FWOOF! FWOOF!

The little asshole started shooting off Spells from his wand.

Magic whizzed past my ears as I ducked and dodged, perceiving each one as being filled with the destructive potential of a miniature, shit-encrusted bomb. However, to my surprise, each spot an arcane bolt hit caused a blossom of thorny plant life to sprout. It was basically thistles with a few flowers, but I definitely didn’t want to get hit in the face with it or anything—that might be inconvenient.

"Hey, careful with that thing!" I yelled, barely dodging a Spell. "You're gonna take someone's eye out!"

The kid just laughed like an unhinged psychopath and yelled back at me.

"You should've stayed dead!"

"What the fuck?" I demanded, taking cover behind a nearby chimney. "That’s some fucked up bloodthirst! Who the fuck raised you?!"

From behind the chimney, I could hear him still firing at the spot where I'd been standing. A mischievous grin crept across my face. While excelling quite decently at it, stealth still wasn't usually my go-to style in a fight—especially not in broad daylight. But hell, this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. I furled my Trespasser's Veil around me, feeling myself…become harder to see? I dunno how it worked, y’all, I just did that shit, alright? Anyway, the only reason I could was because of the shadow cast by the stone smokestack. But did it I did.

I moved silently around the side of the chimney, watching as the kid grew increasingly confused. He was skirting the edge of the roof as his Spells still whizzed and popped in the air, but I was no longer their target.

"Hey, kid!" I shouted suddenly, springing out from my hiding spot. I must have looked like I just materialized out of thin air because his face was the perfect picture of shock as I launched myself at him, feet first. The double-kick connected solidly with his chest.

"This is for the respawn, fucker!" I yelled, as the force sent him flying backward off the roof.

With a yelp, he rocketed over the edge, landing with a thud in a courtyard some twenty feet below. I peered over the side, panting but triumphant.

"Now who's laughing, huh?" I shouted down at him.

He groaned, but didn’t get up.

"Not so tough without your wand, are ya?"

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I looked down at the dazed kid struggling to catch his breath on the ground. I jumped off the roof. With a thud that—in my old body—would have sent shockwaves through my body, I landed, staggering a little but managing to keep my footing. I took a moment to enjoy the wide-eyed fear on the kid's face as he realized I was still very much in the game.

"Round two, shitbird!" I shouted, pulling one of my own wands from my pack. The kid, realizing what was about to go down, scrambled to his feet, fumbling for something on the ground.

“That is, unless you want to start talking about who sent you to kill—”

FWOOF!

I didn’t even see it coming this time. Somehow, the kid had retrieved his wand and whipped a Spell at me, hitting me right in the shoulder. A few thorns and flowers ripped their way out of my flesh and I released a yowl of pain.

“Holy fucking ghost that hurts!”

The kid chortled and scrambled away, firing a blind shot at me over his shoulder that I actually had to leap above to keep it from hitting my knees. I fired back with the wand of lightning ball, making sure to use it to kite him, rather than actually hit him. He dove behind a bush, and I followed, vaulting over just in time to see an orb of green magic coming in hot.

“Gyraaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” I howled in a death metal roar, activating Blackout Warchant and watching the Spell dissolve pitifully. But it had thrown me off my game and I crashed to the ground, bringing my own wand up and firing a warning shot without aiming at anything in particular. But the kid was already dashing for the trees, and that was when I noticed there were a fuckton of people around. I stood, watching them watching me—you know, a huge orc in an all black villain cape chasing after a tiny kid.

“Uh…” I started, looking around at the sea of faces that seemed like they didn’t know whether to run or attack. “Truancy officer! Nothin’ to see here, folks!”

This seemed to only confuse them further, but I didn’t care. The little jerk was getting away and I didn’t have time to placate them. So I just abandoned all pretense and goosed it. I stomped through the trees, slicing through the thick branches with my haladie in one hand and my wand in the other. I spun in a circle, expecting to get a face-full of herbal magic while I was hoofin’ it through the foliage. Instead, I felt a yank at my side. Right where my wand of flames had been.

“Shiiii—” I yelped, diving to the ground and scratching my shit up as a huge column of flame erupted behind me. Not only had he mugged me, but he’d also tried to light me up with my own supply.

I didn’t have time to think about that, though, because I was in a dangerous predicament that could quickly turn into me being trapped in a brush fire. The branches behind me had gone up in flames and I quickly rolled out of the greenery and back into the courtyard.

This kid was a fucking monster!

I stood, both weapons out, and noticed movement to my right. I dodged as another firebolt flew by—way too close for comfort—and fired right back with lightning ball. Our wands met with a series of erratic zaps and flashes, like a fireworks display choreographed by a bath salt capuchin. We sent a barrage of Spells flying back and forth, turning the quiet courtyard into Fisher Price Presents: Magical War Zone.

His Spells with the wand of flames were wild and unpredictable, zipping in every direction. A few of them hit their mark, scorching my clothes and singeing my eyebrows. This kid was fast, though.

"Hold still, ya fucking freak!" I shouted, trying to land a solid hit in response.

"Not on your life, old man!" he retorted, sending another blast my way.

“Old man?! I’m only like…six grades ahead of you!”

With a yelp, I dove behind a statue of some kind of devil-man, narrowly avoiding a blast that would've turned me into a smoking crater.

The kid's laughter echoed around the courtyard as I grimaced, shaking off the near miss.

"You think this is funny, do you?" I growled, peeking out from my hiding place and immediately withdrawing as another blast connected with the stone. Then I scowled. I needed him to stop using that fucking fire wand on me. First of all, it was mine. Second, if he actually figured out how to use it well, he’d murder the shit out of me. Fourth, I was in a time crunch, and learning who was trying to kill me was high priority. Though, based on how he’d been acting, I half wondered if it was him who wanted to kill me in the first place.

I leveled my haladie, closing one eye to try and get a handle on my trajectory. Then I aimed and chucked that bitch right at the kid. It spiraled toward him faster than he could even react to and sliced right through the wand in his hand.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed. I dunno why I hadn’t realized the thing with the spinning lawn mower blades would guillotine a piece of wood. I’d been trying to just, like, I dunno, knock it out of his hand. The kid realized what had happened and hurled the half of the wand still in his hand to the ground in a panic. It erupted into flame on contact. But this pre-teenage dirtbag wasn’t ready to give up the farm just yet. He yanked his original wand out of his sleeve and held it up.

He fired a Spell at me with a dramatic flourish. It missed me by a country mile and hit a tree instead. The tree promptly sprouted a lovely bouquet of daisies.

"Holy fuck," I said, putting my hands up in mock fear. "That's some hardcore magic, young blood. You really showed that tree."

This dummy then decided he was going to take me seriously, a proud little smile forming on his face.

"Yeah, you better watch out."

"Watch out for what? Your ability to turn things into a fucking garden center?" I razzed, shaking my head. "Seriously, kiddo, you've got a future in floral design."

The confused expression on his face quickly turned to defiance.

"I’m not a florist! I’m a wizard!"

"Sure thing," I said, winking at him. "Because usually when someone’s a wizard they have to go around tellin’ everybody."

He looked furious.

"I'll show you! I'll show you all!"

“All? You got a mouse in your pocket or—”

With that, he launched another spell at me. It missed, hitting a rock and causing it to become entrapped in weeds.

"Oh, now I'm really shaking," I said, pretending to quiver. "What are you going to do next, turn my shoelaces into spaghetti?"

The boy seemed to take that as a genuine insult. His face scrunched up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're an idiot.”

I shrugged, unapologetically.

"And you're a shitty wizard. Guess we're both having a garbage day, sport."

Incensed, the boy sneered at me.

“Oh yeah? Would a shitty wizard have a Rare Tier Aura Guard?”

“I dunno what that is,” I said. “So yeah, maybe—if the shoe fuckin’ fits.”

“You oaf,” the boy hissed, and it really sounded like he wanted that to come off as an insult, but—come on—oaf? “It’s a Shield Spell. And it means you can’t hurt me even if you weren’t such a…a…”

“An oaf?” I offered.

“Yeah!” He said, oblivious to the irony.

“Can’t be hurt, huh?” I wondered aloud. Then I smiled.

“Well, shit. That’s a relief.”

—

Gaspar Hookfoot was enjoying his afternoon tea, sitting in the common room of his tavern basking in the midday sun streaming through his windows. This was the twog’s favorite time of day. He’d already finished his opening duties and business wouldn’t begin for a few more hours, so he could just sit and find a spot of relaxation before the hubbub of the evening got underway. Truly, this was a wonderful respite in the sea of chaos that was his life.

However, all of that ceased immediately as the common room window exploded in a cloud of shattered glass and a boy flew in.

The young man slammed into the ground with a high-pitched oof and the small creature called Gaspar tumbled out of his chair in the cataclysmic chaos.

“Rahbi?!” Gaspar exclaimed, hurrying to the child’s side as he lay on a pile of crackling debris struggling to catch his breath. Thankfully, he only seemed to have gotten the wind knocked out of him. Gaspar wrenched him into a sitting position, smacking the boy on the back with worry.

“Are you alright, boy?!”

“SPECIAL DELIVERY!” Called a booming voice just as the door to the tavern exploded inward, torn clean from its hinges and flying into the common room as well. Gaspar let out a terrified squeak as the sun-illuminated doorway intimated the shape of a large figure, nearly as big as the door frame itself.

Gaspar shrieked, backing away from the boy and the intruder, desperately patting the ground around him for some kind of weapon. With a start, he realized he’d left his enchanted knife sitting next to the toilet.

The figure in the doorway stepped forward, revealing himself to be a huge, brutish orc dressed in a motley of raiments that made him look like a bloodthirsty savage fresh from a raid. His skin was disfigured by the presence of various spots, which looked very much to the tavern proprietor like some form of plague, and his hair was a bizarre vibrant shade of violet and magenta hues. Also worrisomely, he had some sort of plant growth sprouting from a shoulder that looked like he’d tried to tear out of his own skin.

“What do you want?!” Gaspar exclaimed, backing up farther until his back was pressed against the underside of the bar.

The towering monster stepped forward again, an evil grin plastered on his face.

“I heard you’re the motherfucker who tried to have me killed!”