Siora sat up.

"Fuck."

Basolia hovered beside her bed. The specter had formed thin white lines to act as eyes. She had realized days before that Basolia didn't usually do that, and seemed to only do it for Siora and select others. Maybe she responded better when the specter had eyes.

"Miss Ennia has woken and rushed from the compound," Basolia said.

Siora growled and tossed her sheets aside. It was the middle of the night and she ached with intensity from training. The last thing she needed was to start hiking through the city in the middle of the night.

"Why am I the only one trying to stop her?" Siora asked. She pulled on a shirt, struggled to find the neck hole, and threw it aside.

"Mistress Alegarra does not care," Basolia said.

Siora growled again, snagged a button up that had been placed over the back of a chair, and pulled it on. "What's she care about?"

"Her assistants and Owin."

"Yeah. Makes sense." Siora pulled on a pair of trousers, tucked part of her shirt into the waistband, and strapped her sheath around her waist. "What the fuck else." She muttered, looked around the room, and stopped.

Basolia opened the door. "She has passed through the portal into Atrevaar."

"Fuck." Siora brushed hair behind her ear. She was too slow waking up. It felt like it had taken her seconds, and yet, Potilia went from the front door to the portal already.

Siora walked from her room while rubbing sleep from her eye. "Can I run?"

"You may do as you wish, Miss Rilokos."

Siora sprinted down the hall. Basolia stretched into a line before her, opening the necessary doors, until Siora entered an empty lobby. Basolia formed from the ground. Its white eyes were slightly bigger and more circular.

"Miss Alegarra may not care. I cannot care."

The front door opened wide.

"I hope you succeed."

"Thanks." Siora ran into the dark, lamplit city of Vraxridge. She didn't see a soul until she neared the portal guards. She suppressed another groan. Money. She forgot money.

"I—"

The portal guard stepped aside. "The 7 Shard Hero has paid portal fees in advance for her hero company."

"Oh. Thanks." Siora lingered for a second, feeling awkward, then ran up the stairs, onto the circle, and straight into the portal leading to Atrevaar.

***

Arkasti stood in the kitchen doorway. He stirred his coffee without thought as he stared down the hall. His stomach growled like an angry bear.

Basolia formed in the hallway. The specter floated high enough to be roughly at Arkasti's eye level. "You intend to depart."

"I do." He laughed. "I thought I'd make use of the kitchen a last time. She was in a hurry. What was her name?"

"Siora Rilokos," Basolia said. "Formely Void Nexus. Now Alegarra Alchemy Incorporated."

Arkasti sipped his coffee and realized the heat was . . . nonexistent? He drank more. Was it the shard or the fusion? He finished the cup. "Can I get burned?"

Basolia appeared to reach a shadowy tendril into the ground. It pulled out a tube.

"What is that?"

A stream of fire belched from the tube. It engulfed Arkasti, who didn't so much as flinch. When the fire ended, Basolia deposited the tube back into its shadows.

"It appears your fusion has granted fire resistance."

"Only resistance?"

"To test immunity, you would need to be in the practice arena."

Arkasti shrugged. He walked back into the kitchen and poured more coffee. "Can you inform the 7 Shard Hero that I intend to take over the Golden Bulls?"

"I will inform her come morning."

"Thank you." Arkasti drank the whole cup in one gulp. "What's that Siora doing?"

Basolia hesitated. "Hoping to protect a friend."

"Honorable. I wish her luck." Arkasti set the mug in the sink, looked at Basolia, then turned and rinsed it out. "Do I—"

"No."

"Yes, sir." He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and hefted Zezog's sword. "I checked. He told me to keep it."

"He did," Basolia said. "The Barbarian's new sword is superior."

"Oh, it is?" Arkasti grinned. "Good. I hope to see his new weapon in combat soon. If I claim the Golden Bulls, will the 7 Shard Hero visit Nagyati? I hope to continue working with her."

"I will inform her of your request."

"Thank you." Arkasti took a breath and smiled widely. "I'll be off. Thank you for your help, Basolia. You are a fine lad."

"I am a specter."

"The best I've met." Arkasti strolled down the hall, ready to head back to his home. Vraxridge was quiet and calm in the late night, or early morning. He wasn't sure which it was. It was all the same to him. Whatever time he was awake was day and whenever he slept was night. Nobody cared. It was all the same.

Dim lights illuminated his path between skyscrapers. Vraxridge, for how safe it was under Althowin, was a blocky, tacky mess of a city. It had nothing of the old history and culture that Nagyati was known for. There weren't any old buildings somehow constructed in a natural rock wall or buildings that had slowly consumed others until they fully engulfed them in some cannibalistic architectural nightmare.

The mess of Nagyati was its charm. It was a beautiful place. He missed it dearly.

Arkasti neared the portal circle and stopped. The guards were all out of position, standing and speaking with a bird and two women. Arkasti did his best to analyze the situation from afar, but no matter how long he stared at the people ahead of him, he could not figure out who they were or why the guards had taken such an interest.

He gripped Zezog's blade tightly and marched through the gate and into the portal circle without a guard present to take his dungeon coin. "Excuse me."

All four guards turned and stepped aside, revealing the well-dressed bird and his companions. The bird had black eyes with yellow irises, fiery red feathers, and a hooked beak that looked like it could tear flesh with ease. He wasn't dressed all that different from the portal guards, though there were some key differences in the gloves he wore and the style of his jacket. It was less butler and more master.

"The umbra," Arkasti said.

"The Bull." The bird bowed. "Pleasure to be reacquainted, Arkasti. Our paths have only crossed at such odd times. So, allow me to reintroduce myself, as my appearance has become rather fowl. I am Vondaire Faikel, a Nimble Hog, a 3 Shard Hero, and now host to the Phoenix."

"Arkasti Duragoz, host to a big fucking bear." Arkasti laughed and clasped hands with Vondaire. "I couldn't forget a brother in battle! We defeated Isaak together!"

"That's considered a crime, and I believe it was technically me and Chorsay. Either way, I wouldn't brag too much or you will find a bounty on your head."

Arkasti couldn't tell if Vondaire was joking or not. His face was rather unreadable now.

"Who are your comrades?"

Vondaire pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "Kuri and the other one."

The other one grunted and looked pleasantly angry. Arkasti extended his free hand. "Arkasti."

"Zetyrth."

"Berserker?"

She nodded curtly.

"I see it."

The faintest hint of a smile touched her face.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Arkasti's skin was pale, which already made it difficult to hide a blush. Not that he often blushed. Someone like him had few things to be embarrassed about.

"Interesting." Vondaire took a step back, whispered something to the woman he had called Kuri. She hid most of her face under a large-brimmed hat and only tilted it up slightly to match his gaze.

"A wizard," Arkasti said.

Kuri didn't flinch, shift, or give even half a hint if his guess was right.

The portal guards had been lingering, but finally dispersed at a gesture from Vondaire.

The umbra summoned a fiery knife and spun it in his hand. He didn't fully seem aware that he was fidgeting. "Where are you heading?"

"Nagyati. I am going to take the Golden Bulls back to glory!"

"From Voolyn? Are you mad?"

Arkasti thumped a hand against his chest. "Born mad! Forever mad! The Golden Bulls should be an institution of the Chivalrous Code! The Heroes of Valor knew how to lead, so I will follow their light to lead the Bulls!"

"He's too loud," Kuri said.

Zetyrth thumped a hand on her chest. "Yes!"

"I don't understand you berserkers." Vondaire tossed the fiery blade into the air where it vanished. Embers drifted down. "Do you need assistance?"

"I do not!"

"Voolyn Eskitorra is one of the strongest heroes in existence," Vondaire said. His black eyes flicked to the sword on Arkasti's shoulder. "Forget I said that, actually. I forgot who your mentor has been."

"I will make him proud!"

Vondaire stepped aside and gestured to the Nagyati portal. "You better be on your way before you wake the whole city with your shouting. I do wish you the best of luck, Arkasti. I despise Voolyn as I despise so many others." The umbra bowed his head. "You're one of the few I respect."

"An umbra with a shining heart," Arkasti said.

Vondaire rolled his eyes. It was fascinating to see a bird was still capable of doing such things.

"Good luck," Vondaire said.

Arkasti adjusted his grip on Zezog's blade. "He told me 'luck is for fools.' Real strength needs no luck."

"I believe it," Vondaire said. "I will visit Nagyati soon. I expect that you'll reintroduce yourself as the leader of the Golden Bulls."

***

Chorsay walked with calm confidence. The pounding footsteps of golems matched their pace, just one street over.

"Weapon," Torban said around the Incandescent Blade's handle. It sounded like the bag was about to simply vomit the sword out.

"Keep it away," Owin whispered.

"Butcher detected."

Owin sighed. He forced the weapon back into the specter bag. "I'm going to throw this bag over the wall."

"Torban wants to help," Chorsay said. "Besides, killing the golems now eliminates a future threat." He pulled the Winged Sword of the Swift Behemoth from its sheath. The light shone brightly on the blue wings of the crossguard.

"But the hero could hear them."

"It's a big city, Owin. We're safe." Chorsay smiled warmly as he shifted his feet, readying to fight.

Shade leaned on a nearby wall. "I am curious. Torban's existence is . . . odd? I know, I know. I'm one to talk. Look at me, the naked little skeleton."

Owin frowned. "Ew."

"We've all seen Basolia who seems like a person, but specifically mentions that it is definitely not a person. So, what is Torban? Just a bag? And speaking of—"

Five black stone golems stomped around the corner. Their wide feet smashed old rubble to dust. Owin had primarily seen two types of golems as they traveled in Amnopis. A black stone golem had tried to stop him earlier, but it was alone and Owin managed to kill it without difficulty. The 5 Shard boost hadn't caused them any profound problems, but it certainly hadn't made things easier. Even the rundown golems they had encountered took more hits and more effort than before.

The five that now stood before them were in seemingly perfect condition with polished blocks and bright, spinning mana batteries. Glowing red eyes were embedded in their heads that were little more than mounds on broad shoulders.

"Speaking of," Shade continued, "Torban has never really offered a weapon when you didn't need it. In fact, Torban is usually unwilling to let us take weapons out until the last second. I don't appreciate the sass, but I do appreciate the foresight it takes to understand the need for a weapon."

Torban gagged and stuck the Incandescent Blade out again.

Owin scowled.

Chorsay lifted his free hand. "Just wait. Did I ask for help, Shade?"

"If we only help those who ask, we will be waiting a long time. I used to say that, you know." Shade pointed a finger at Chorsay. "I will help."

Owin grabbed the skeleton's arm and pulled him back. "Just watch."

Chorsay rolled his shoulders. Owin could see the humor in the old man's eyes. He wasn't just confident. He wanted to fight the golems.

Blue lines of mana moved through the large constructs. The black stone golems were clearly a tier above the others they had fought. None compared to the boss on the previous floor.

Owin thought about what the floor looked like for Chorsay, or really any other hero. The monstrous golem really wasn't a boss. It wasn't meant to be defeated. The only reason he had even killed it was the Incandescent Blade and whatever weird history was connected with the lehboa and that weapon.

Chorsay walked right up to the golems and ignored their empowered bodies. At a 5 Shard level, Owin expected him to look concerned or wary. Lower quality golems were dangerous enough at their current strength.

"Eliminate," a golem said. It lifted a three-fingered hand with glowing mana in its palm.

Chorsay stepped into the center with a smile still on his face as five hands lifted in unison. The golems didn't think the old man was enough of a threat to properly fight. A quick blast of mana and he'd be dead, so they thought.

The Winged Sword of the Swift Behemoth flashed blue. Between Chorsay's shards, his high strength attribute, his natural weight, and the weight of the bricks hanging in bags from his armor, he already hit hard enough to break alchemical concrete that had been designed specifically to withstand powerful heroes.

With the Winged Sword's ability, Chorsay chopped horizontally through all five golems as if they were made of paper. Fire and mana spilled out, covering the old man in a cloud. Owin flinched, but Chorsay stepped out a moment later, waving a hand in front of his face like it was just a mild inconvenience.

"I hope I'm that impressive when I'm old," Shade said.

"We're both older than Chorsay," Owin said.

"Eh. We don't act like it."

Owin nodded.

The five golems fell in half, clanking loudly as they joined the rest of the ruins and rubble in the street.

"Are you ready to continue?" Chorsay asked. He held up a finger before they answered and pulled out his water flask. He took a drink and swished some around his mouth, which he spat onto the street. "Ready?"

"Dust in your mouth?" Shade asked as he ran over. "Imagine having a mouth to have dust in. You see this?" Shade let his jaw hang down. "Nothing."

"There's probably still some dried shapeless specter in there," Owin said.

"Apple jelly." Shade ran a finger along the inside of his jaw. "Oh, yeah, there it is." Bone scraped on bone. "That has been there for a long time."

Chorsay looked between the two of them, shook his head, and started along the wall again. He looked like he was having fun, and Owin didn't really get why. A 5 Shard level made mobs six times stronger than their base form. Even with Owin's exceptional attributes and Chorsay's fighting experience, the golems were wearing them down. With the exception of the most recent battle, every encounter has taken longer than the last.

Shade kept talking about the Fortress floor with the kitchen where he had been certain he could taste a shapeless specter. Chorsay, surprisingly, had a few questions and a couple of his own thoughts about the potential tastes of specters.

"Spicy," Torban randomly said.

"Specters are spicy?" Chorsay asked.

"Some."

No matter how many questions they asked, Torban did not elaborate.

After a little over an hour of walking, the wall turned. They weren't at the far end of the city. It simply veered off. Owin waited at the corner as Chorsay looked over the area. He could see much better, and Owin wasn't looking to climb on top of the piles of rubble. That would only help someone spot him from far away.

"It's a riverbank," Chorsay finally said. "It could have been a park or garden." He squinted. "It's difficult to tell."

"Plants like water!" Shade waved his arms. "The vines are like plants and if they are trying to blend in, they are probably by water!"

Chorsay nudged the skeleton with an elbow. "Good thinking, Shade."

Shade put both hands on his chest and sighed. "Praise. I never get sick of it."

"I'll follow you," Owin said. Really, he liked the idea of going down, away from the rest of Amnopis. It only put them farther off the main path.

Chorsay walked around rubble that had been piled high against the broken city walls. He slowed, looking in a window of what had been a home, then continued. Shade didn't bother looking inside.

Owin stopped, stood on his toes, and was met with red eyes.

Torban gagged.

Owin reached down, pulled the sword free, and ignited it without any extra thought.

Stones and petrified wood exploded out as a black stone golem charged. Owin blocked a mana-fueled punch and smashed into the pile of rubble. Dust and more broken bits of stone sprayed into the air before raining down on their surroundings.

The golem looked at its own hand, now deformed from hitting the burning sword. It really was a massive advantage against golems. Owin stood and pushed out. Rubble shot to the sides and gave him room to move.

Chorsay and Shade stood at a safe distance.

The old man just nodded once.

The black stone golem charged. Its feet pounded on the ground. Bits of dust lifted with each powerful impact. Owin leaned to the side to dodge a blast of mana, then side-stepped a bone-crushing punch. He shifted his weight, moving his feet and hips accordingly, all based on his lessons from Suta and Basolia.

Before the golem could follow up its attacks, Owin chopped diagonally. The Incandescent Blade bit into the golem's thighs.

Owin didn't want to waste more time. He was done being scared. They were going to get out and go home.

Flames burned brightly along the unique weapon as Owin finished twisting his body and tore the blade through, bisecting the black stone golem from thighs to shoulders.

Blue fire sprayed into the air as the mana battery spun wildly. Owin dropped the sword into Torban's open mouth, grabbed the top half of the golem, and tossed it aside. It crashed into the ruined home, then detonated.

A few stones from the roof collapsed and thunked against the dead construct.

They all stood silent.

"I killed five in one swing," Chorsay said.

"It was more impressive," Shade whispered.

Owin stuck his arms out helplessly. "Can we just keep going?"

Shade stepped to the side and gestured with both arms. "Right this way, master. I forgot I was supposed to call you that. What about maestro? Do you prefer maestro?"

Chorsay put his hands on Shade's shoulders. "Come on."

"I'm just asking the important questions!"

Chorsay gave Owin a quick, warm smile, then waved him up.

Owin jogged over and started walking at Chorsay's side. "I could beat five at once."

"I know you could. Most would think because of your stature that you're weak. I know better." Chorsay gripped Shade's shoulders tighter as the skeleton tried to turn and say something. "I'll admit I'm curious to see what happens when you fuse."

"Do you think it could be bad?"

"No. I would suggest against it if I thought there was a chance it would fail or be dangerous in any way. You have more willpower than most heroes I know. You have pushed through, despite it all. I don't believe you would exist at all without that burning willpower in your heart. What fusion will do when you are already a goblin is where my curiosity lies. I have no doubt you will succeed."

"What if I turn into a flower or something?" Shade asked.

"You aren't going to change. You're not actually a familiar," Owin said.

"I'm familiar with both of you."

Chorsay gently shook the skeleton as he continued pushing him downhill toward the old riverbank.

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