Today's Earth date: January 5, 1992

Seeing the Cuts from the top of the Lighthouse helped me reach my decision, and for once, we're all in agreement on a big choice.

We want to go back to Earth, but we are willing to accept that might not be possible. Wilmond's squire let it slip that she had never heard of Heroes being able to go home. Everyone we've spoken to in our time here has been cagey about this topic, but this is the first time we've heard directly that it simply can't be done.

We won't ignore an opportunity that could get us back to Earth, but we also aren't going to devote our lives to chasing a fantasy. Instead, if we have no leads on how to go home by the time our quest ends, we're going to live it up. We're going to get so strong that we can do anything we want in this world, and by the time we're that strong, we'll have plenty of money too.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

The arena verged on rioting. Like the ceremonial act of trashing your hometown when your sports team won a championship, the chaos was jubilant despite trending toward destruction. All manner of objects emerged from the crowd and rained down on the pit–food, glass bottles, underwear–most of them men's. A few fistfights broke out in the upper stands. And Wayne spotted two small fires. He was too far to see what was burning, but it was enough to drive spectators stampeding in every direction to escape.

The door Wayne used to enter the arena opened, and the usher waved for him to make his exit. The usher was yelling too, but that was futile at this point.

"Stay safe, everyone," Wayne said as he jogged down the ramp to the locker room.

"Hector is kicking the shit out of a meathead asshole," Margo said.

"Yes, but I am safe."

Wayne returned the staff to Fergus. The old scholar seemed relieved to have it in his hands again.

"I'm glad that's over with," Fergus said, looking Wayne over for injuries. "We knew Sanders would play dirty, but that scorpion tail was something else."

Cold Goods Storage.

Wayne grabbed a Greater Heal potion to top off his hit points. "How long do we give him to come pay?"

"Ten minutes sounds reasonable to me," Fergus answered.

"Okay. I'll wait that long. Get to the rendezvous point and ping me if you run into any trouble."

"You have every right to be pissed about this," Fergus said before he departed, "but remember that murder is still murder."

Wayne laughed and promised he wouldn't murder anyone.

As he counted down the minutes until he went looking for Sanders, he checked his system menus. He was level 19 now:

Hero: Wayne the Guy

Level: 19

HP: 274/274

STR: 36

AGI: 27

VIT: 19

LCK: 33

The average person in this world had the equivalent of 3 or 4 points in any one attribute, with a very rare few going beyond 10. A once-in-a-generation-talent might go further than 12, but anything beyond 20 was superhero territory, essentially.

Wayne thought often about Laszlo's final stats, using them as a benchmark for his own progress relative to the Chosen Heroes:

Hero: Laszlo the Paladin

Level: 50

HP: 885

STR: 69

AGI: 40

VIT: 35

LCK: 29

He had an early lead on Laszlo but hadn't earned any stat-boosting abilities recently, so he was roughly on track to be as strong as the Chosen Paladin by level 50. The hitpoint total, however, made Wayne pretty jealous.

As for the rest of Wayne's recent progress, he had three new unlocks:

Burner Max – Picking this Item up gives you a complete supply of Energy for your Burner.

Chicken – Pits two cars in a classic confrontation of speed and courage.

Strengthen Legion – Recruit soldiers to strengthen a legion.

The first was from ESWAT and maxed out his unlocks for that game. The second was from It Came from the Desert, and the third came from Centurion.

Burner Max and Chicken were both Active skills, and the descriptions were intriguing. Strengthen Legion, meanwhile, was a Passive skill. All three would require testing to confirm what actual function they served.

Wayne looked at the usher. "He isn't coming, is he?"

The usher shamefully shook his head.

"If he does show up, tell him I went upstairs to collect."

Rise-Rise-Rise-Rise-Rise-Rise-Rise.

Wayne ran along the rooftop of the arena, looking for the stretch of viewing space that connected to Sanders' office. The noise rising from the stands and from the streets of Iomallach suggested the riotous reaction continued. It occurred to Wayne that his unexpected win may have created some problems for the people unlucky enough to work the betting windows.

He felt bad for them individually but not for Sanders' business as a whole.

There it was.

Swinging down from the roof, Wayne brushed aside a curtain and entered Sanders' office. His assistant, sitting at one of the plush chairs, yelped with surprise.

"Please don't hurt me!" she said, paralyzed.

"Huh?" Wayne took a second to process what he heard. "Hurt you? No. Don't worry. I'm just getting my payment."

"...Master Sanders is not available. You'll have to come back to–"

"You saw the contracts. You saw the fight. Point me in the right direction, and you can tell him you tried to stop me. You should probably stay up here for a little bit, though. It's madness outside."

"It's umm… It's in the third closet from the right, but it's locked."

"This one?"

"Yes."

Open.

Wayne opened the door without issue and scanned the contents. The entire interior was stacked with documents–many of them framed like the pages he was after. With some shuffling, he found the pages that were rightfully his. He didn't see anything else that might be relevant to his Christmas List ability.

"Look. I'm only taking this. See?"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The assistant nodded.

Wayne paused. He picked up a bottle of red wine. "I'm taking this too."

With a wave, Wayne hit Rise to return to the roof.

"A wave? Really, Wayne? That's your smooth exit?" he muttered to himself.

He hoped the assistant left the wave out of her story. In fact, he almost turned around to ask her to do just that, but he resisted the urge to dig that hole any deeper.

Goods Storage.

Wayne popped in and grabbed a cloak for himself. It was way too hot to wear something like that, but he didn't have a choice.

He Blitzed a few blocks away and dropped into an alley. He walked out a moment later, hood up and head down. Legally and morally, Wayne believed he was fully within his right to nab the Abe's Exodus pages, but he also didn't want to underestimate the ire of an angry rich dude. Whether that meant guards in Sanders' pockets or thugs waiting to spring an ambush, he would rather not have to bother.

Wayne's party rendezvoused at the north gate. If there was trouble, their enemies would think to watch the west gate, the one that led to their lodgings.

The whole of the party was present, Sammy and Vanilli included. Everyone was smiling and laughing when Wayne joined them.

Armond and Hector clapped Wayne on the back.

"Looks like no one had any trouble?" Wayne asked.

"Nothing worse than crowded streets," Fergus reported, briefly admiring the pilfered wine. "Now that the fight is concluded, we have a few things to tell you."

Wayne cocked his head. "Okay…"

Fergus pointed at Vanilli.

"The goat head and the scorpion tail were demon parts," Vanilli said.

That confirmed the monsters were indeed forged with fleshmancy, not that the party had any real doubts about that left to dispel.

"Thank you, Vanilli. Is that all of it?"

"We placed a rather sizable wager on your skirmish," Fergus said carefully.

"No, you didn't," Wayne answered. "I have all our money stored with my Investment Account skill."

"I used the soil money. So, we put that down, and we also negotiated a cut of Billium's earnings. He found our faith in you quite compelling."

"How much?"

"A substantial sum, but we've learned of an unexpected flaw in that plan."

Wayne rubbed the bridge of his nose. This day had been stressful enough already.

"Well, the amount that Master Sanders is now compelled to pay could be well-beyond his liquid capital. By a lot."

"So we may not get paid out."

Fergus sighed. "That is true, but it may also be some time before we get our bet returned to us, with a small chance of the money never being returned at all. Things get messy when governments seize assets, and when the dust settles, they have usually figured out a way to keep most of what they confiscated for themselves."

"You're saying we may have just lost most of our travel fund? Because I won?"

"...Yes."

Wayne broke into laughter. "Since we're coming clean, I blew 5,000 gold on Skulduggery in the arena."

Fergus paled. "You're serious?"

"Yep."

"How much do we have left?"

"573 gold and some silver."

"Gods, we're broke."

Wayne laughed again.

"You're not upset?"

"I'm not thrilled," Wayne admitted, "but it's also pretty funny. It's very much like us for the good ending to still be absurd. We'll figure it out."

"Shall we board Outlawson and head back?" Fergus asked.

"We're all not going to fit."

Now Fergus was the one rubbing his nose. "Let's go buy or rent a crappy cart to get us around the outside of the city… with what little gold we have."

"I don't–"

"We'll put it in Cold Goods Storage so we don't have to summon Outlawson in the middle of the mayhem. Then come back, and pull it out of Storage."

An hour and a half later, they were a few gold poorer but were on their way to the Blackwell estate.

The house was empty when they arrived. When Wayne asked if they should be concerned, Sammy pointed out that the other guests were probably still in town celebrating.

"Right. That makes sense."

"Are you rushing off to the bath or will you relax with us for a moment?" Fergus asked.

"Let me get out of my gear at least."

A few minutes later, Wayne went out to the pool to be with his party. Fergus passed him a glass of wine and then held up his own.

"Today was quite the day for the Zeroes," he began. "I am honored to be among you. This toast is as much for all of you as it is for Wayne."

"To us?" Margo asked, confused. "Wayne did everything."

"Half of those tactics came from you guys," Wayne said. "There's no way I win that by myself. Don't forget I borrowed Fergus' staff and had Armond spotting for me too."

"As I said," Fergus continued, "To Wayne and the Zero Heroes!"

The wine tingled as it rolled over Wayne's tongue. A cozy warmth spread out from his belly and he felt more peaceful, a feeling that grew the more he drank. It wasn't simple inebriation. It was some kind of calming magic.

"Like it?" Fergus said, smiling. "That's our bottle of Frost Forest Merlot, courtesy of our friends in Cuan."

"It's incredible."

Fergus sipped slowly. "Vanilli, this is not a simple pleasure."

Vanilli held his cup with both hands, like he was terrified of dropping the rare beverage. "I am aware."

The Pictionary screen appeared over Wayne's head and he scribbled with the mental knobs.

"That's a really big dick," Hector said, referencing the stick figure Wayne added next to the penis for scale.

A holographic penis, pointing straight into the sky like his drawing, appeared in Wayne's vision and could be manipulated much in the same way the path provided by Dynamite could be. He picked a spot in the lawn and mentally activated it.

A white disc appeared in the grass and then began to grow layer by layer like it was being 3D printed.

In two minutes, a three-dimensional representation of his crude two-dimensional drawing stood erect in the Blackwell's backyard. It looked like a poorly constructed 3D model… of a paper white penis as tall as Hector.

"That's the first success. It really took you that long to think to try drawing a penis?" Fergus asked.

"I was afraid to before."

"Afraid?"

"Yeah, what if the drawing translated into some kind of attack? I didn't want to send dicks flying at some innocent bystander."

"And now was a better moment because…?"

Wayne shrugged. "Felt like if there was ever a moment that could survive a quick penis stampede it was this one."

"I find that I agree," Fergus said, nodding to himself with delighted surprise.

Hector knocked on the shaft. "It's plaster," he said. Then he wrapped his arms around the cylinder and picked off the ground. "Solid too. That's a heavy dick."

Margo covered her eyes and shook her head at Hector.

Finishing his wine, Wayne said, "On that note, I'm going to get cleaned up."

The house was much louder when Wayne stepped out of his room. All of the Blackwells and a handful of other guests had returned from the city and were on the patio with the Zeroes. Two of the newcomers puzzled over the plaster penis in the yard.

When the group spotted Wayne, they raised their glasses and cheered. He blushed and said thanks while praying for a way to escape the spotlight. The party returned to normal soon after, and Billium and two men were the only ones not to take their focus off of Wayne.

"Fergus wanted me to tell you right away," Billium said. Wayne didn't immediately see the scholar on the patio. "You don't need to worry about your money. It'll be slow, but you'll get all of it. It's very likely I just bought a controlling stake in the arena with the money I'm owed. If that ends up being the case, you can take your payment as shares or as gold."

"Gold's good."

"Yes, yes it is, my boy." Billium punched Wayne in the shoulder. "You've ruined me for the arena. I'll never get to see a fight like that again."

"That's not entirely true," Fergus said. He had two shots of bourbon and handed one to Wayne. "Do you want to see it again?"

Billium looked to Wayne to explain the joke.

Wayne wasn't happy about it, but he admitted it was really an option.

"How?" Billium asked.

"Can you let your guests know I'm going to summon something against that shrubbery there?"

Billium did as Wayne requested.

Replay Camera.

Wayne placed the floating display mentally, and the magic screen unfurled itself. Billium was so shocked he couldn't speak.

"It will all be from Wayne's perspective," Fergus explained. "If you start to feel queasy, that's called motion sickness. Look away and breathe deeply. The image will be pretty shaky."

Mentally clicking play, the Replay began with an enraptured audience watching every frame.

Wayne drank his shot. He hated watching himself, so he looked around for food and discovered not all of the audience was fixated on the screen.

One of Billium's daughters, a brunette with bangs who was maybe twenty years old, caught Wayne's gaze and shot him a coy smile.

"Damn it," he thought to himself, looking away, but it was too late. She slid up next to him a second later.

She wrapped herself around his arm. "You must be so tired after a fight like that."

"I'm sure you're great, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"Me neither."

Sighing, Wayne said, "Look, my body is in its twenties, but my mind? I'm closing in on fifty up here."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Seriously? You're older than my dad?"

"Yes, so I don't mean to offend you, it's just–"

"Ew."

"Okay, that's not–" she spun and went inside. "...necessary."

The crowd gasped. Stealing a glance at the screen, Wayne saw they were at the part where he used the Tyris-Flare spell for the first time. He was aiming at the neck of the goat, but he also looked down at one point, not at himself, but that's what the camera recorded: a candid junk shot.

Wayne laughed quietly and poured himself another drink. While everyone was distracted, he wanted to see if that plaster dick was really as heavy as Hector said it was.

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