Getting ahead requires more than just brute force, sometimes it requires cunning.

  - WHA Chairman Adams -

  The woman in the silver-etched armor looks down at me. Setting one end of the impressive stringless bow on the ground, she places one of her fingers on the tip, spinning it in a circle. Like some kind of idle habit.

  “Aren’t you going to beg?” she asks, her voice is sharp, dismissive, and uncaring.

  “No,” I say, trying to move my stiff neck, “I don’t think I will.”

  She tilts her head at me, “Why?”

  “Not in the mood, I guess.”

  She makes a strange movement, and then an even stranger laugh comes out, before being abruptly halted. Her body straightens.

  “Well, that’s a shame then,” the woman says, but her tone feels different now somehow.

  A sensation pulls over me... it's the brand. Blue fire surges as it activates, killing the Wyvern. The Wyvern begins to crumble, slow at first, and then faster. So much so that what I’m resting my back against starts to sink away. I guess this is what happens when you finish them with a brand. A series of blue boxes show up.

  [ 1 x Wither Charge Gained ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Quest Completed, Congratulations Hunter. ]

  [ Congratulations, you have leveled up. ]

  [ Establishing connection… ]

  Blinking, holy shit. Six levels for killing it? What level was that Wyvern? Plus an extra level for clearing the quest. That means… I’m level fourteen now. I just doubled my level… in a day. What the fuck…

  Thinking back to the last text box, it’s establishing a connection, which means I’ll be back soon. Good, I can barely breathe. My limbs are throbbing, my right eye is swelling up. I feel blood running down my cheek from a gash on my forehead. The baby fox’s warmth is probably the only thing keeping me going, it’s like a little furnace. What’s going to happen to the baby fox though?

  “Hmm, that explains it, he’s a Witherbrander,” a voice that reeks of cold malice says from behind me. The same one that rode the larger red and black dragon. It’s a man. The voice is deep and menacing. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stick up.

  “Indeed,” the woman says, “Shall we kill him?”

  “Hard to say if we should,” the man says, now moving toward me, each step builds dread.

  “You think he’ll want to meet him?” she asks.

  “Perhaps.”

  “It is strange though,” the woman says, tilting her head again, “I didn’t think this world had humans.”

  “It doesn’t,” the man says, I can’t see his face, but his glowing red eyes stare at me, like he’s peering past the flesh, “His status board says he’s not from here.”

  “An off-worlder from a failed world then?”

  “No, there’s no marker for that.”

  He can read status boards?

  “Where is he from then?” she asks, spinning the bow once more, “How did he get here?”

  “Somewhere called Earth,” the man says, moving his hand through what I think is his system interface, “I don’t know how he got here. There aren’t any gates nearby.”

  “Never heard of Earth,” the woman says, now leaning forward toward me, “How did you get here?”

  “I walked, rode an oversized fox, then a Wyvern, then was rudely told to fuck off. Then I got dragged back here, I think? Not sure about the last part, I was out cold.”

  She does that weird little spasm like she’s fighting back a laugh again.

  “And before that?” she asks, her tone changing again, more… soft.

  The quest is cleared, why hasn’t it sent me back yet?

  In the corner of my vision, I still see the same two small boxes fighting over the reward reroll. Red and Ulana need to get their shit together. Are they so wrapped up in their spat that they’ve forgotten to send me back? Looking closer, I see what they are fighting about now.

  [ Petitioning to upgrade reward by combining quest reward rolls… ]

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  [ Denying petitions… Success ]

  [ Suggesting upgrade to Divine grade item reroll… ]

  [ Denying ludicrous suggestion… Success ]

  [ Changing request… ]

  Divine grade? Is there even such a thing? Worry about that later.

  “Mira asked you a question, Earthling,” the man says, folding his metal-plated arms in front of him. His glowing red eyes burn a little brighter.

  Mira? That must be the woman.

  “It would be really nice to go back where I came from,” I say, hoping the system will remember it’s supposed to send me back.

  Nothing.

  “That’s not an answer,” Mira says, crouching down.

  She’s now at eye level with me as I try to sit up without the Wyvern supporting my back. So cold, so tired too. The little fox squirms, baring its sharp teeth when she moves a hand forward.

  “It’s not very friendly,” Mira says.

  “I’m just saying,” I begin, looking toward the sky, “It would be really, really nice to go back now.”

  Two Red System text boxes show up.

  [ Notice: Offer to exchange previous quest rewards for the fox child ]

  [ Accept? ]

  My heart thuds for a moment as two choices appear. The first choice is Red. The second is gold, Ulana.

  [ Yes, I’m not a piece of shit / No… I recognize that while it is the morally right choice, potentially having a legendary item would be more important. ]

  Her choice feels callous. Like something Red would say. More important? Can life be quantified by value? Some think it can. The warm baby fox stirs in my arm. I’m not really that type of person though. Not when push comes to shove. Not after having watched it suffer firsthand. Still… Ulana wants me to pick it. Maybe there’s a reason. If I get a legendary weapon, maybe I can do more. The baby fox whimpers, looking up at me. The memories of the fox parents play in my head again.

  “Fuck,” I curse.

  “Do you think he has brain damage?” Mira asks.

  “Probably,” the man sighs, “Humans are fragile after all.”

  Fragile? My eyes roll. Douche.

  “All this unnecessary blah—blah—blahing. It’s boring. Do you guys always talk this much?” I ask, rolling my neck, pretty sure it’s sprained from falling off the Wyvern, or maybe tumbling nearly to my death.

  “Are you trying to insult me?” Mira asks. The tone is strange though, not offended, strangely curious instead.

  My head tilts at her this time. I don’t know if it’s blood loss, general apathy from knowing I’ll come back if I die, or just something else. But right now, I just really don’t give a shit about anything except for this little baby fox, and getting back to Earth.

  My hand clicks the yes option offered by the Red System. Time to go, I need a beer and a healer.

  “Later, losers.”

  Nothing happens… why is nothing happening? A Red text box shows up.

  [ Processing request – Three minute wait time… ]

  Seriously? Three minutes, how do I keep them occupied for three minutes? Piece of shit. Not cool. I mic dropped. This is awkward now. Both of them are staring at me intently.

  “Definitely has brain damage,” the man says, looking at the blood coming from my forehead wound.

  “Hmm, I don’t know, I think it may be something else,” Mira says, putting one of her hands on her black horned helmet, and pulling it off, my eyes blink. The horns weren’t part of the helmet, they seem to be part of her head. She’s a demon. I’ve only ever seen them in the UWO handbook. She puts the helmet in the bend of her elbow, resting it there, my eyes trace back up from it to her face… damn.

  Jet black hair with streaks of greyish silver, in a long braid. It falls down as she shakes it free. Her eyes shift with color, unnaturally. Luminous sparkles flush in her irises, as though they can’t decide what color they want to be. It’s entrancing and off-putting in the same breath. It’s hard to tell the dominant color of her eyes in the ambient blue hue.

  I need to stall. Sighing. Time to fire up the bullshitter 3,000.

  “You said I’m a Witherbrander,” I say, clearing my throat, “But you’re wrong.”

  “Wrong?” the man asks, looking back at the corpse of the Wyvern that’s turning to dust.

  “I’m not just a Witherbrander,” I say, shaking my head, keeping the fox close, “I am the Witherbrand,” neither speaks, Mira’s eyes roll over the wounds of my body, “The very same that was carved from legend, hewn from stone older than the nine realms. I was the first to discover the secret method beyond the brand, the coveted secret art if you will.”

  “Nine realms? He has brain damage. I’m not sure even a healer can fix that,” the man sighs, “Let’s not waste the Lord’s time with him then.”

  My eyes widen, shit, I fucked up.

  “Wait,” Mira says, holding up a hand to him, “Let him finish his tale.”

  Relief pours over me.

  “Where was I?” I ask.

  “The secret art,” she says, giving me a coy smile.

  “Right, the secret art…” shit, what do I even say? Just wing it, “There is a secret art and a secret phrase to draw out the art.”

  “Oh, sounds interesting,” she says, though I don’t think she’s actually that interested. I think she’s enjoying that the man is becoming annoyed. If it keeps me alive for the next two minutes though…

  “Yes, the first thing one must do to activate the secret art is…” I begin, bad time for a brain fart.

  “Tell me, tell me,” she says, grinning at the man who is cursing under his breath.

  “You need both hands for it.”

  She squints at me warily, but she moves her bow and helmet to rest on a rock, jutting up from the melting snow next to us.

  “And?” she asks.

  “Hop on one foot, saying…” I begin.

  “He’s toying with you,” the man groans, shaking his head.

  She doesn’t seem to care as she hops on one foot.

  “Okay, what next?” she asks.

  “Um, pat your belly and spin in a circle,” I say.

  “Fucks sake,” the man protests, growling now, “You’re a high general of the Dark Lord, what the fuck are you doing Mira?”

  She stops, turning to face him.

  “Don’t speak down to me, fleshless fuck,” her eyes shift in color, one dominating the rest, red, deep menacing red.

  “Fleshless…” he hisses, apparently offended, “You’re a fucking disgrace, the only reason anyone doesn’t say it is…”

  “Go on, finish that sentence, sack of bones.”

  He must be like the Lich. It makes sense now why his armor seems to rattle when he moves. How common are these guys?

  “No one respects you,” he seethes, pointing a finger to the bow against the rock, “Without that, you’re just a basic…”

  “You’re going to talk to me about being basic? You’re a Lich, you can’t even eat, can’t fuck, can’t breathe. Why do you keep going?”

  “I…” he pauses, he actually pauses. I think she struck a nerve, if there was a nerve to strike.

  My eyes are drooping again. Shit, stay awake. Soon I’ll be back.

  They’re going back and forth in a circular argument now. The clock is ticking down nicely. Yet something stirring in the air tells me I need to interrupt them, before I become collateral damage. If they fight, me and the fox are probably cooked. Less than a minute on the clock.

  “Bonehead, crazy eyes,” I say, coughing through a wheeze, damn my ribs hurt, “You never asked what the secret phrase was.”

  They both turn, the man raises a hand up, and magic circuits begin to spin around his metal armor. No incantations or anything. Just like the Lich from before. Mira swats his hand down, giving him a scowl.

  “Hurry up, what’s the secret phrase?”

  Twenty seconds remaining.

  “You sure you’re ready to hear it?” I ask, squinting my swollen eye at her, “I’m also not sure you’re worthy to know it,” then motioning to the man, “I know bonehead isn’t.”

  She peers at me, something shifting in her expression, slow at first, then sudden. The faint grin at the corner of her lips erupts into a full-on experience. Her eyes widen in a… lustful way, her cheeks flushing, legs moving together… did she just get turned on? What the fuck is wrong with this woman?

  “Yes… tell me,” she says, licking her lips, her eyes shifting in color again.

  On the order of magnitude of batshit crazy, she’s a solid ten, maybe an eleven on a bad day. My crazy Geiger counter has been blaring loudly ever since she took off the helmet. But something else has been going through my head. Looking at her earlier stroke the stringless bow affectionately, I got an idea when she set it down. Not a sexual one, but one that might balance the equation. I’m not sure it’ll work, but it’s worth trying.

  Nine seconds left.

  “The secret phrase is…

  She blinks as a weak grin slides across my face. My good leg knocks the intricately carved bow off the rock and toward me. Right as I grab it with my fingers, still clutching the baby fox in the nook of my arm, I get a system notification.

  [ Connection Established… Returning now… ]

  “Fuck around, find out.”

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