“You really shouldn’t have.”

  George had to duck to avoid the variety of things that had been thrown his way. Sitting around a long table were himself and his friends - Kyla to his right, John to the left, then the rest of the table filled out with everyone else: Mitchell, Sarah, Miriam, Ezekiel, Dalton, Tommen, even Aleks. He’d have invited Jack, but the man was too busy training the Second Century up north.

  The reason he’d said what he’d said was because while he was gone, the loveable assholes had went and procured him a proper kitchen. Not quite a modern one, but there was cookware, pots and pans, and even spices! A wood oven, an open firepit with a spit cleverly built in, and a set of knives along with plenty of ladles, grates, presses, and other assorted kitchen tools.

  Then Miriam revealed that she’d enchanted them all to clean themselves at midnight, and that the enchantment would last about 5 years. John revealed that he’d spent a fair amount of the legions budget on the cookware - it was a two for one deal and he needed quality cookware for on the march, as well. Sarah explained how she’d gathered local ingredients based off of the alchemical tests the scouting team had done, and Dalton wrapped it all up with the oh-so-juicy information that yes, foods at higher grades often gave similar effects as potions, though less concentrated and longer lasting.

  So, George had cooked. He was in a kitchen, Nimbus darting in between his legs as he walked but his stats were more than high enough to just step around the cat. He quickly decided not to use anything extra from the System Store, and the thought of the challenge excited him. Luckily, the pantry area was fairly cold, and their resident Enchantress was forced to put her book away when she immediately started trying to figure out a refrigeration enchantment.

  The Cook pulled out mushrooms, herbs, berries, nuts, and a plethora of other local ingredients. After a quick moment of planning, he began.

  The mushrooms were easy to process with a pair of cooking cantrips, the dirty caps being cleaned and sliced evenly in seconds - though not until after George had physically touched them and increased their quality by a step. The resulting product looked better than what you would buy at a grocery store. Another cooking cantrip saw him with a cast iron pan in his hand - the cookware here was nice, but it was mostly modern pots and pans. While he did have a use for it, it just wasn’t what he wanted to use for a saute.

  Then he hit a roadblock. No butter. No oils. How would he sautee the wild mushrooms? He frowned at his pan, before shrugging and tossing the ingredients in. He lit a small fire in the woodstove to get it started, then filled and placed a large metal pot - one that had been purchased from Tommen - atop the stove to begin heating while he worked. The clean river water within was freshly gathered and poured through a primitive filtration device that had been set up by Sarah. It wasn’t like they could get sick or infected anymore, but the taste of the riverwater was ‘dank’ as she had put it, and she didn’t want to use dank water for medical purposes.

  So, clean water into the pot. He used another cantrip to clean up some herbs before placing them in the mushroom pan, and the whole thing over heat as well. The sizzling of the fungus quickly grew loud and wisps of steam scented with wild garlic and dandelion greens scattered into the air. With a quick sniff, George gathered a pair of plantain leaves and tossed them in as well, the herb working quickly to harmonize the flavours. As he sauteed, the water came to a boil, and luckily the mushrooms had enough moisture that nothing stuck to the pan. He poured the whole mixture in, put the lid on, and left his wild mushroom soup to simmer.

  Next was a flurry of cantrips that saw him before a large bowl of berry and nut salad. He tossed a few spare garlic leaves in as well. That would come after the soup, help refresh the palate after the mushroom soup. Then he began his main course.

  Trout from the river, caught this morning. Cattails from the same river, also foraged this morning. He steamed the shoots quickly, then summoned a sharp knife and got the delicate work of slicing them into sheets by rolling the shoots through his hand like a pencil in a sharpener. With his sheets done, he used cantrips to skin and clean the trout, then delicately wrapped the fish filets in the cattails shoots before bringing them outside on a tray.

  By the river, a small clay pit had been mostly extracted some, but he was still able to gather some of the cool substance and coat the wrapped fish in it. When he returned to the small building - and really, what kind of restaurant has equal cooking and seating space? - he immediately placed the clay vessels in the firepit, his Class giving him an instinctive knack for telling when the meal would be done. With that done, he took a quick taste of the mushroom soup, decreed it delicious, and began to serve his friends.

  “Oh my god.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘by all the gods that do or-”

  “I have one god right now and his name is George. Anything else is lies and slander.” Mitchell retorted, to the chuckles of the original founders. George himself was seated at the head of the table, looking almost as smug as Nimbus did on a daily basis, and he had good cause. The group had gone for seconds, then thirds, then John and Mitchell had had to arm wrestle over the last piece of fish, but Mitchell had lost.

  Then George brought out the second batch of fish, and finally - with bowls, plates, and silverware licked clean - they’d finished, though George had pair of extra, smaller plates off to the side that he could catch the others eyeing, but were too polite to ask about. Sarah wasn’t.

  “Well, your holiness, what are the extras for?”

  George smiled sheepishly. “I uh… well I made a friend and I want to bring her some food. The other one’s for Nimbus, but he was being bothersome while I cooked so he’s got to wait for later.”

  The cat in question pawed at the Ranger’s leg, eyes wide. George laughed. “A little too big for that one now, buddy. Soon.” He turned back to the rest of them. “I’m just gonna pop back down there for a few minutes, check in, say hi, and make sure the Khanclave didn’t ” His voice gained an edge of venom that cut through the jubilant mood in the room, and soon the atmosphere had gone from content to disturbed.

  “What kind of friend?” Kyla asked innocently, though her eyes were fixed on the Ranger with intensity.

  “The kind that could probably kill me pretty easy but chose not to. I can’t say more.”

  “So it has nothing to do with the one named place other than the Khanclave that we have on our map? Comfy’s Grove, I believe it was called.” Kyla challenged.

  George frowned and met her stare. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you care? I won’t be long.”

  Kyla huffed and stood from her seat. “I’ll go with you, then. Not leaving you down there alone again.”

  George bit back a retort. That was actually pretty thoughtful of her. “Fine. But don’t talk to her unless she talks to you first - she’s a bit on the… primal side of things? It’s hard to describe.”

  “I’ll be as your shadow, then.” Kyla responded confidently.

  “Can please explain what’s going on?” John pleaded. “I mean, obviously I understand, but for Sarah!”

  The woman in question was leaning back in her chair with a contented smile on her face and hands laced over her stomach. Her eyes pried themselves open at her name being mentioned. “Hm? Oh, yes dear. So concerned. So confused.”

  George looked back at John funny. “Just off to repay some kindness is all.”

  “Yes, yes, I got that, but what do you mean that's a day’s journey at least!”

  “Closer to six or seven hours to me.” George answered quickly and easily. “But I’m not going to wa- actually… You guys want to see something cool?”

  The Ranger led them north out of the town, along the path to the Legion Camp, then turned off to the side to follow the river. Soon, they were among the trees of the forest, which John was looking at as if offended they dared grow so close to the walls. He led them along the curving length of water until they reached a bend, a bend upon which an elderly willow trees roots sunk deep and its boughs spread wide.

  “This tree.” George said confidently. “This tree is significant. Its roots drank of blood, and its leaves of peace. It is what holds this land from being swept away by the current. This willow protects from sun and wind and rain and time.” The Ranger stepped forwards and placed his hand against the tree, closing his eyes. “I see you, great willow. I thank you for your bounty, and present to you my own.”

  His face screwed up, and though it was not prevalent enough to see in the light, Mitchell’s eyes locked into the connection between palm and bark where he could swear he had seen a brief, light blue glow.

  George swept his palm to the side and like the parting of a curtain, the bark of the trunk moved aside as well, revealing a tunnel that lead much further into the tree than the willow was thick. After a couple of feet, the tunnel faded into pitch black darkness.

  George looked back on the rest of them with a grin. “This is Treestrider, a skill I got for talking with a forest spirit for an entire evening. It lets me connect trees together, or something like that, if they’re significant enough. I don’t know this one’s precise story, but I can just kind of… feel, when a tree fits the criteria. Anyways, the spirit seems to like Nimbus and I, and is both unimaginably ancient and like a child with her understanding of the world. Yes, her name is Comfy, and yes, she has a grove where I stayed while I was down there. That’s where this mighty tree will take us to.”

  “Hold up, we can all go?” Miriam asked. “Is it a flat cost skill? What’s the range limit?”

  “Uhh…” George’s expression faltered for a moment. “No. I don’t have the MP for that. I can take two, maybe three others if I time it right. So this run is just gonna be me, Nimbus and Kyla. Again, not gonna be gone long.”

  Both Mitchell and John’s growing pleasure was dashed at the revealed limitation. John was thinking of dropping an entire Legion out of a tree. Mitchell was thinking that it would make it possible for their own Core group to act as reinforcements in any nearby battle. Neither would work with the skill as it was.

  Soon, George, Nimbus, and Kyla stepped into the wooden tunnel - the latter with no small amount of trepidation - and George let the bark slide closed like a curtain behind them.

  Miriam blinked. “Huh. I’m a mage, but that seemed like the most overtly magical thing I’ve seen so far.” She blinked again when she realized everyone was staring at her. “What? Did I say something weird?”

  “Unflammable wood-”

  “-oating lightning bolts!-”

  “Human firework displ-”

  John, Sarah, and Mitchell all stopped speaking over each other to share a glance. Her words were absurd. She was literally inventing new spells on the daily.

  “Okay, fine.” Miriam replied, crossing her arms. “I do some pretty cool stuff. But teleporting between trees? That’s on a different level. If you understood Arcana you’d get that. Enchanting all of the Legion’s new gear? Simple. Elementary, even. Connecting trees based on their metaphysical and pseudo-narrative importance? Weaving them together into a path? That’s absolutely nuts. I wouldn’t even know where to start making that spell.”

  “E-Grade for nature aspect, C or D for the metaphysical, A or higher for the interaction with narrative.” Dalton breathed with unfocused eyes. “Absolutely incredible. You get movement skills, all classes do, but nothing like that. Not at F-grade. I wonder if he needs to have seen the destination tree? Do they need to be on the same world? Is that tunnel a separate dimension and if so, how does he create it with a semi-mage’s worth of MP? I have so many questions!”

  After George had returned with a shellshocked Kyla in tow, they had finally debriefed and had a proper gathering on what their next steps would be.

  “We upgraded to level four. The town, that is.” Mitchell revealed. “I’m sure you saw the new Mage’s Tower, but our Farms have become more efficient, and our Markets can gather goods from further away. Yes, the Markets are limited by distance from the merchants, though for our purposes it doesn’t really matter - only some people have the license to sell to Tutorials, and even then they are heavily regulated in what they can put up for sale to us. Dalton gave Tommen a list of the best stuff, and with our farms outputting more per day, we’re keeping up with the dropping veggie prices. Houses can hold more people, a slight boost to immigration experience, and a whole bunch of new buildings available to build. Included on the list is a proper Granary, which can hold us for a year in event of a siege.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “The new buildings need stone, though, so we aren’t worrying about them yet. Nothing on that list we can’t do the hard way, anyways.” Dalton explained.

  “Right. Now, Dalton was able to use his System connection to reach out to his family - at no small personal expense of his own - and learn some important information for us. First, the Centurion class is part of the ‘Greatest Warrior’ Initiation Protocol. The System goes back through a planet's history and uses its own judgement to declare a culture to be above the rest, then adds that new class to the available pool. On his own planet, they had gotten the Winged Knight class line, starting from Page all the way at F grade, to squire at E, Green Knight at D, Yellow at C, Red at B, then finally a Winged Knight Paragon at A. It was a historical order of great-hawk and griffin riders, though of course the abilities were exaggerated for the class.”

  “So? That seems more like you, Page.”

  Mitchell gave a faint smile at Ezekiel’s comment. “Mine is also a Greatest Warrior class, though an older one from a planet that unfortunately was destroyed shortly after their own tutorial. After our tutorial, Centurion will be added to the universal pool of classes.”

  “I mean, the history is nice, but is there anything useful in there for us?” Sarah asked, confused.

  “Most definitely.” Dalton responded. “Firstly, his is not the first class to make outposts - the common theme is for your ability to evolve into permanent structures at D grade. Neither is your ability to gather and marshal your troops, for there are at least 7 different military leader type class lines that I know of for Humans alone. However you seem to be the first to have both, and at such early levels.”

  John frowned. “Okkaaay, so what does that

  Mitchell took over. “It means, my friend, that you are going to be our cornerstone. With your skills and abilities, coupled with the unique class, you have unparalleled force projection capabilities. There hasn’t been a single attack or incident on the road between your fort and here - according to Dalton, that’s almost unprecedented for any sort of tutorial with mobs in it.”

  “Almost?”

  “Kirth - the planet Initialized three planets before mine - had a necromancer who lined every road in his kingdom with skeletal guards who dragged any unauthorized travellers back to his castle, where they got turned into more guards. It was technically safe travel for the authorized.”

  John’s face paled. “I just run patrols. It’s good for the lines to stretch their legs.”

  “Exactly! Patrols are something recognized by the System, though. You are uniquely positioned to create a new patrol base, man it with soldiers, and send them out on the roads. Safe roads are to local trade, and without local trade you won’t even be able to afford post-tutorial prices for local grain-loafs!”

  “Bread, Dalton.” Mitchell said idly.

  “Pardon. Bread. Still, the road-watchers on my planet are paid exorbitant amounts. Most of them are Winged Knights or SkyShapers, and they never ask for more than they need, but there’s a tradition of sending them gifts at Year’s End Festival, and if they like your gift, your roads will be safer that year.”

  John frowned. “So…”

  Miriam sighed. “John, they’re saying you can make roads, and whoever has safe roads wins. Right?”

  Dalton frowned. “I suppose it could be boiled down to that, yes. But-”

  John nodded. “Then I’ll make roads. First camp is getting crowded anyways, so I ca-”

  The peaceful bubbling of the river by the willow was interrupted suddenly by the crashing of a pale-faced Legionnaire bulling his way through the bushes. “Centurion! Centurion!”

  John schooled his features into a stern mask. “Legionnaire! Report.”

  “Sir! The Northern Camp is under attack! It’s the Raccans, sir!”

  John’s face paled. “Mitchell, I have to g-”

  The man’s face was livid, and the fury John saw was enough to halt his own words. “The Raccans are back? Kyla, get Dalton back to the town then get Aleks to muster everyone we can. Put the guard on high alert. Everyone else, let’s go. We have a march in front of us if we want to get there with any sort of speed.”

  George shook his head. “Nah, you guys get ready, gather gear, then come back here. I’ll head up to the camp and locate a tree I can use, then I can shuttle you all up there. Shouldn’t take me too long through the branchways, and you’ll be able to fight better if you aren’t tired.”

  A hand clapped down on Mitchell’s shoulder. “Besides. You aren’t going anywhere.” John declared.

  Mitchell whirled about, knocking the hand free. “John, they’re You want me to sit around and do nothing? Fat fucking chance.”

  “Sit around and do nothing, no. I want you to shore this place up. We can survive losing a camp. Hell, we could survive losing a Century. What we survive is losing Old Mill Town. The Clan and the Town are one and the same. You think the Legion would still exist without a town to be garrisoned at?” John explained. “You leave it to me. Me and the First will beat the Raccans down so hard their offspring will be wincing away from us in thirty generations. Just make sure my boys have somewhere to come home to.”

  “What if there’s commandos? You guys can’t handle-”

  John barked a laugh. Then he thought longer, and laughed some more. “Mitchell, we were around level what, ten when we fought off the first wave of the siege? Not a single member of the First Century is beneath 15, and there’s a of us. Trust me - we can handle this. I’d be surprised if there was anything left to fight. Legionnaire!” He said without breaking Mitchell’s gaze. “Report on the situation as it was when you departed.”

  The soldier shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, sir. As soon as the Raccan forces were spotted, Optio Jack sent out a trio of runners. I lost the others in an ambush but last I saw they had broken through and were headed back to the camp.”

  “Estimates on enemy forces?”

  The soldier ceased shifting. “We don’t know sir. Optio Jack estimated roughly 100, but there were signs of more behind the treeline. Mostly skirmishers, though there were some brutes and shamans spotted in the mix. No commandos.”

  “The commandos wouldn’t be seen easily.” John replied. “We can’t count them out. What’s your name, Legionnaire?”

  “Caleb, sir. Legionnaire Caleb, seventh line, First Century.” Caleb replied, crashing his right fist to his chest in what was quickly becoming the legion’s official salute.

  “Legionnaire Caleb, you have performed your duties admirably. Rest in Old Mill Town for the day, and be ready to head back in the morning. You are dismissed.”

  “Sir!” Caleb answered, posture full of pride, before turning and walking off with clear exhaustion to his gait.

  Sarah hummed. “Must have been quite the trek solo.”

  “I told you. The Legion is tougher than you think we are.” John said flatly.

  “Oh don’t be like that honey.” Sarah chided warmly. “We aren’t worried about how tough you are. We’re worried for the same reason I worry about you - anything can happen out there. I wouldn’t want to pick a fight with any of you, that’s for sure.”

  John sighed. “I know, I know. It just feels like we haven’t been doing well. We need a win, and this is a fight we can take on. The Legion is meant to be our military force. We need to have confidence in them.”

  “We do.” Mitchell said with finality.

  “Well, actually…” Dalton said softly, gaining the attention of everyone present. On seeing this, he cleared his throat and continued. “Well, normally a Settlement with an attached military would be gaining bonuses, which your town is not. I have to assume that’s because your military hasn't performed any operations since your Blooding quest, so this would actually be a boon for the town itself if John were to command the military without other intervention.”

  John gave a loaded grin. “Well, seems like Mitchell can’t come anyways. Sounds like George can’t fight with us either. Would you mind bringing Caleb back in the morning, buddy? Saves him the six hours.”

  George shrugged. “Sure, one person isn’t too bad. I can do… six tree jumps before I need to wait for more MP?”

  Miriam coughed. “I’m working on something for that.”

  Sarah turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “So am I, though I should have my first batch ready by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Miriam shrugged. “Saves me the trouble. I was having issues with the enchanting aspect anyways.”

  “I mean, I can’t help but be curious - what else are you working on?”

  Mitchell hummed in agreement. “Actually, yes, before we all split up again, mind running us through what you’ve accomplished since the fire?”

  Miriam positively “About time! As you all know, I discovered Fire Bolt as an offensive spell, as well as other basic elemental variations on the bolt. I figured out Calm Emotions, which I’m unsure of the combat applications but I’m working on an inverted general fear spell that should be much more applicable. I have Lightning Totem and Chain Lightning for my bigger, more costly spells, and Lightning Bolt is low enough cost to be my go-to spell. I regen MP quickly. I also made Mind Bolt, which should… I don’t really know. It just says it does mental damage. As for enchanting, I have my Durability enchantment, then my two-part combo of Charged Resistance - that’s what I used to help with the fire. Plant a Charged Resistance enchantment on anything, drop a bolt spell into it, and the object will resist that type of bolt. We have it on all the walls, set to fire right now. Some minor enchantments for armour and weapons to increase durability. Oh, I also figured out an enchantment that changes glass colour in response to the pitch of a note? That one was accidental, I was trying to fix something one of my apprentices made and- It doesn’t matter.” WIth an apologetic look, she nodded once more. “Still not ready on the regeneration spell or the earthquake though.”

  Mitchell nodded. “Single target, AOE, support, and utility. Very nice, Miri. How are the apprentices doing?”

  Miriam‘s face almost flickered into a frown. “Fine. They aren’t exactly the smartest of all of the people I’ve ever met - because that is empirically myself - but they have some insights I don’t consider which helps me with my research.”

  “I’m more asking if we can spare you from Old Mill Town to accompany John up to the camp. Your magic wa-”

  “Outpost.” John said idly.

  “What?”

  “It’s an outpost. You can’t call a structure with walls a camp anymore. The Romans may have used such structures as temporary camps, but they wouldn’t often take them down unless there was a chance of the location being taken by an enemy. With ours planned to be permanently manned, I want to call it an outpost.”

  Mitchell blinked. “Sure. Anyways, can you go help-”

  “No.” John interrupted again. “It’s like you weren’t listening to me. The Legion Stop trying to waste resources to make yourself feel better. We don’t need Miriam. We don’t need you. We don’t need anything. however, do need a lift, so if you guys would clear off, I’m going to be ready for when George gets back.”

  A glance around from everyone had them noticing that the Ranger had already gone. “Alright.” Mitchell nodded. “No help. We’ll take care of the Khanclave while you’re off doing that.”

  “You better not.” John smiled, reaching an arm out. “The Second Century is going to need something to cut their teeth on.”

  Mitchell grasped the Centurion’s arm with his own, chuckling lightly. “I have a feeling that we’ll be facing plenty of enemies. There will be no shortage of targets. Now, best of luck my friend.”

  John nodded, his mood suddenly solemn. “You too, friend. See you on the other side?”

  “Always.” Mitchell replied easily, finding that he meant it. Whatever John went through, Mitchell would be there, waiting to help him piece it all back together and get back to it, just as he knew John would do the same for him.

  With what was just said, Mitchell found that it would dilute the meaning of the shared words to stay any longer, so he turned on his heel and began walking back to town. John watched first him, then the rest of the group slowly trickle away from the ancient willow tree. Sarah stayed behind, her eyes fixed on his. John sighed.

  “Yes, my love?”

  Sarah flinched. “I..” She threw her hands up weakly. “I had this whole tirade planned for you. Was gonna bitch you out for leaving me to sleep cold and alone for so many nights. But you’re doing what’s best, even I can see that. How can I be mad…”

  John turned to face her squarely. “Easily. You can be mad. I would be concerned if you weren’t. You’re right, I’ve spent a long time away from our bed and I predict that I’m about to spend even longer. I’m sorry, Sarah. Truly.”

  “You’re still going to leave, though.” Sarah replied, shocked at the amount of venom that slipped out in those words. That was much harsher than she’d mean-

  “I am.” Her thoughts got interrupted by John’s pained admission. She looked up to see his eyes watering, and the anger slipped out of her grasp faster than rain hits the barren dirt. “I hate this. I hate having to be away from you, I hate having to spend my entire days preparing to fight, all while knowing in the back of my mind that these people, these young girls and boys, are going to draw steel in name and die for it! Strong people, people! Why?! I hate the time without you. I hate the responsibility. I just… it’s so tiring. We have this system with the power to grant magic, and yet there’s still so much death! Were that I were George and could leave for a week without being questioned.”

  “The guy does seem to be living his best life.” Sarah carefully admitted. “But I doubt you would find that as enjoyable as he. You thrive with goals to accomplish and direction to follow.”

  John gestured wildly around the clearing, though his eyes remained clear and focussed. “Haven’t you noticed, wife of mine? The goals here are murder and the direction malevolent.”

  Sarah smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing I have a couple more recruits for you.”

  John shook his head. “I can’t have help, you heard Dalton.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, it needs to be a Legion victory. Tell me though, where else am I going to send my apprentices that unlocked a Medicus class?”

  The Centurion could not argue with that.

  Bill took a deep breath, now the only member of the Family able to hold it long enough to continue the construction of the tower.

  Him, Whitney, and his entire gathered family had been dropped into this tutorial. They had awoken on a flat stone expanse. In front of them were three foundations of poured concrete, foundations that ran deeper than any had managed to dig, and were solid to the point of being unnatural. As they awoke, they found themselves joined by hundreds of other people. A voice had manifested in their heads, commanding them to split the group in three and begin building a tower on one of the foundations each.

  Bill had immediately chosen the left side tower, as per William’s instruction’s, then gathered his family and gotten to work. The elderly were placed on planning and logistics, the strong sent into the mines on the other side of the stone expanse to gather materials. They reported small bands of roaming monsters, and soon Bill had taken it upon himself to patrol the mines and keep them safe for usage. As a result, his level had shot up, and he’d soon evolved a number of his skills in his Martial Chronomancy Initiate class. The skills were not powerful on their own, but in how they were used. For example, his Self-Stasis allowed him to lock in the oxygenated state of his lungs for as long as his MP held up. His MP regenerated faster the lower it was. He could hold one lung indefinitely but that felt too damn weird so he just held both for 15 minutes. It was long enough to reach the top of the skyscraper.

  Carrying multiple steel girders to continue building the frame skywards, Bill trekked up the stairs. Three floors, Nine, Eighteen, until eventually he hit the 108th floor, and pushed open the door to reveal a skeleton of steel with a hurricane wind blowing throughout. Well used to the conditions, Bill placed each of the girders close to their spots, drew a wand, then held each girder up with one hand while the other traced lines of magical welding.

  Briefly, through the curtain of hair that whipped in the gale, he spotted a figure on the skyscraper across from him, goggles down on her face, crude oxygen mask looming large on her back, and weld-wand in hand. The figure looked back at him and though it was too far away, Bill could all but envision the smirk on Whitney’s face, and he laughed aloud when she flipped him off.

  Unfortunately, that used up his air. He proceeded to weld the rest of the girders at his full speed, flip her off in return, then took a step off the edge of the tower.

  His gut rose into his throat and the wind seemed to get even stronger if that was possible, but Bill just angled his body to avoid the two gigantic building and continued free-falling. With a quick skill activation, Bill had gone from active free-fall to nowhere to standing nonchalantly on the ground. To the outside, it was as if he had decided to land instead of be crushed by gravity.

  From his own perspective, Bill had just skipped a third of a second of time, specifically the third of a second where his body would have been crushed by the momentum of falling from such a tall tower. As he hadn’t actually existed for that brief moment, reality placed him safely on the ground when he came back from the skip.

  Bill smiled. That was only one of his skills, and an unevolved one at that.

  If anyone doesn't remember, Bill was a potential member of the party at the start, but him and Whitney got some other plans from a Seer/Prophecy dude named William so they didn't group up.