“That Harmony score,” Pero whistled softly, then shook his head as if to clear it of something unsettling. “If you want my advice, Adam.” His tone was now neutral but firm. “I was going to suggest focusing on a hybrid build for combat. Your racial physical composition is average among the races of the Union. Poor for extremes.”

  I frowned at the sudden change in his demeanor and the direction of the conversation.

  He noticed, and with a sigh, he explained his meaning. “You are too small to reach the pinnacle of strength. And too large to be lightning fast. So be smart. Be faster than larger opponents, and stronger than smaller opponents.”

  For a split second, I found myself grateful for the advice from the amiable giant, until the reality cut back in. That’s the funny thing about a tough life. You learn to cut the bad shit out to survive, but it resurfaces in waves.

  If he noticed the change in my demeanor, he didn’t show it and continued. “Of course! Now that I know you have a high base Harmony, if you can follow the path of magic…” He stopped for a moment as if to collect himself. He met my eyes. “You could become a household name across the Union. Who knows, in a few turns from now, I might be telling my grandchildren how I knew the Earther! Assuming the Archons train you well and you’re half as able as I think you are.”

  My aggression waned with his optimistic words, and that made me angry at myself. I had to get a grip with my emotions. What the hell was wrong with me? I was up and down like a yo-yo. Get a grip, Adam!

  Clenching my jaw shut, I didn’t reply to his compliment, and the remainder of the short walk, an eternal thirty seconds, was in uncomfortable silence.

  We returned to the smoking room again, but it had transformed. The haze was gone, replaced by a sterile calm. Only the fat Unalaran was present, seated behind an ornate desk carved from a highly polished pale wood. His bloated form exuded authority, even as his jowls quivered from turning sharply to take us in with his beady eyes.

  I took the opportunity to scan his details. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The repulsive creature’s level was higher than Pero’s, and he even had the warrior class too.

  Name: Ulas Rae

  Title: Cerun of the First House of Hunters

  Level: 40

  Class: Warrior/Tradesman

  “Level 12?” The Cerun’s voice was as sharp as the glint in his eyes. “Not as high as I’d dared to hope, but extremely good, nonetheless. What other news, Vyrnsoul?”

  Pero’s smile was broad and predatory, reminding me in no uncertain terms that this man wasn’t my friend. “Better than his level would suggest. Adam here has a standout stat.”

  “Do not dance around the sigil, Pero! You were not promoted for your cleverness! Tell me!”

  To my surprise, Pero bowed slightly. “Apologies, my lord. He is at Level 14 in Harmony. His other two stats are both at 12.”

  For a moment, the Cerun looked like he was trying to breathe underwater, mouth opening and closing. His eyes flickered between us until they finally settled on me. With a loud clap of his hands, he surged to his feet, laughing. “A potential Warrior Mage! What a day, what a day!”

  He looked to Pero. “I think our asking price just went up! And on the cusp of reaching Level 13 too...” He paused, eyes taking on an evil glint. “Vyrnsoul. Would you be so kind as to gather some training equipment for the Earther and yourself.”

  Pero frowned. “Training equipment? Aren’t the Archons waiting?”

  “This shouldn’t take long. Now run along.”

  Pero was almost at the door when the Cerun called after him again. “Oh, and would you please tell Tuas to attend me? We will sorely need his services.”

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  With a pained expression for me, Pero left the room, and at that point, I really should’ve caught on to what was about to happen. The clues were all there, but I was too busy trying to be cold and emotionless.

  Now that there was only the two of us. I eyed the Cerun cautiously as he waddled toward me. His oily grin revealed crooked teeth as one massive hand clapped me on the shoulder. Too heavy and far too familiar.

  “Tell me, Earther. Do you think there are many like you on your planet?”

  The question threw me. How could I answer that? Say no, and they’d continue slaughtering us carelessly. Say yes, and they might not kill as many but they’d stay longer, hunting more of my people.

  I swallowed hard, choosing my words carefully. “I couldn’t say. There are skilled fighters on Earth, but the idea of Harmony is... unfamiliar to us. If it’s rare on our world, I imagine it would be harder to detect among my people. Especially when you assess value by how quickly someone dies.”

  The Cerun burst into laughter, a horrible, wheezing sound. “I suppose so! Few are rich in Harmony, it’s true. Even our very own House Mage, Tuas, started with a base Harmony of 11. That is considered high among the Unalarans.”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise, and the Cerun caught it and grinned all the wider. “Finding you is like finding rotaga in zelini stew!”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

  “That’s why it’s always more cost effective to find those with the will to survive! They’re always high in Toughness and at least adequate in Mental Acuity—even if they don’t know it themselves. And the harvest on Earth this time...” He chuckled darkly. “It’s not going too badly at all. Far better than our last visit. Back then, there were so few of you near the Portal Stone that we had to range for almost twenty cycles just to meet quotas.”

  “I don’t know what a cycle is.”

  With a waft of his hand, and an unpleasant twist to his mouth, he both dismissed my confusion, yet still engaged the question. “Five days.”

  “Of Earth days or your days? The Vyrnsoul told me that they don’t match up.”

  “Union days, you fool. Why would I use your turgid little planet’s system of measurement?”

  “I’m just looking for a frame of reference,” I snapped back. “It’s the least you could do considering the circumstances.”

  “I owe you nothing, Earther. But the last time we visited, your baking sun passed overhead approximately eighty times before the portal lost power. Plenty of time to bring more of your friends!” The Cerun’s tone had turned almost jovial again.

  When I scowled, he caught it. “Oh! I see. You were thinking about your own escape with the question, not how many more of your people will be captured before the portal closes. I knew I liked you, Earther. There’s an animal in you, and I respect that.”

  His words struck a nerve. An animal. Perhaps there was an animal in me, but not one of my making. With clenched fists and stinging pride, I considered attacking while we were alone. Sure, his numbers said it was a bad idea, but I couldn’t match what I read with what I saw in front of me. At the very least, it might be worth making a run for it.

  No sooner as I had the thought, the slender Unalaran I know knew was named Tuas slid into the room. I scanned his identifier on the off chance it was still worth the risk.

  Name: Tuas Rae

  Title: First Mage of the First House of Hunters

  Level: 27

  Class: Mage

  Pero’s return a moment later, arms laden with weapons and shields, put all thoughts of running from my mind. With the grace of a stalking panther, he crossed the room and dumped his haul at my feet before picking out a sword and a shield from the pile.

  “Choose,” he commanded as he took a step back.

  I stared at the pile, bewildered. “What? What is this?”

  “Choose,” the Cerun commanded, retreating to the comfortable couch.

  I looked down at the pile. There was barely anything there that I could lift and swing with any real skill. It was all too big.

  “Come on,” the Cerun yelled. “We haven’t got all day!”

  Begrudgingly, I picked up the smallest sword that I could find. Its weight was awkward in my hand, but I was relieved to notice that all of the edges on the weapons were dulled.

  “And a shield,” Pero added, his tone flat.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what this is about, but I’ve never used a shield in my life.”

  “Then it’s time you learned,” the Cerun declared, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “A shield is as much a weapon as a sword in the right hands, and there’s no better teacher than our Vyrnsoul. He wields one better than I ever did in my prime!”

  “I’m fine,” I muttered, examining the useless sword.

  “This will go faster if you use one,” Pero said, his tone carrying a weight that I couldn’t ignore.

  Exasperated, I snapped back a reply, “What will go faster? I thought I was being sold.”

  “BEGIN!” the Cerun’s shout rang out, and Pero moved like a storm cloud—fast, unstoppable, and full of violence.

  Before I could react, his shield slammed into me. The impact was a devastating force of nature that sent me hurtling across the room to smack into the stone wall. A sickening crack echoed through my mind as my neck snapped. I dropped to the floor like a sack of shit, my body lifeless, unresponsive.

  Panic gripped me—pure, undiluted terror as I confronted the reality of full paralysis and approaching death.

  Then warmth flooded through me, and my neck realigned with a nauseating pop.

  I gasped, not from pain but from sheer, overwhelming relief. “What the fuck was that?!” I roared, clambering back to my feet.

  Pero stood there, cool as a cucumber, a faint smirk on his lips. “Are you sure you won’t take a shield?”