Freddy raised an eyebrow. “What about Repentawa?”

  “It’s yours.”

  “What’s mine?”

  “Repentawa. The city.”

  He blinked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  The man laughed. “The city of Repentawa, as of today, is your property. Naturally, should you choose to accept it.”

  “What? You’re joking.”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means that you now own the city of Repentawa.”

  “Like legally? It’s all mine?”

  The man shrugged. “Everything that belongs to the city now belongs to you. This includes all city-owned real estate, which includes a hefty amount of neighboring land, a bulk of the taxes, and even the local entrance to the interspace.”

  “And what’s the catch, then?” Freddy asked. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I simply refuse to believe I get a whole city with no strings attached.”

  The man smiled. “The ‘catch,’ Mr.Cliff, is that you are clearly oblivious about the way the Empire works.” The man’s expression suddenly turned serious. “Look around you. You killed everyone who had an iota of right to compete for power in this city. In spectacular, overwhelming fashion, at that.” The man shook his head. “There was once a time of impotent leaders, those who tried to rule with an iron fist, keeping anyone with power under their thumb.

  “But the world of archhumans can not be ruled absolutely. It is our empress who had revolutionized the philosophy of authority and allowed the empire to grow to this size. It’s quite simple really; if someone has the power to take something… just give it to them.”

  Freddy’s jaw clenched. “So what then? I’m allowed to do whatever I want with it?”

  The man nodded. “Anything.”

  “If I wanted to burn it down, flay the citizens, and turn their corpses into effigies to put in a big circle around the city, could I do that?”

  The man shrugged. “Sure, if you so wish.”

  “And you really wouldn’t stop me?”

  “My job isn’t to stop you.”

  “Why? What is it that you’re doing here, then, huh? Are you not the highest authority on law?”

  “My job, at its core, is to keep people like you happy, Mr. Cliff.” He shrugged. “You ask of strings attached and the invisible catch, but it is quite simple. You are powerful. And very, very talented. I give you this city to tie you to the empire. You are allowed to burn it to the ground. But you won’t. The taxes will make you spectacularly wealthy. You will probably try your damnest to help the city grow and prosper.

  “If it's swarmed, you will defend it. If it's attacked by terrorists, you will stop them. You will fight to keep crime down and opportunities up. The city will flourish under your rule.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because this is what happens in the overwhelming majority of cases.”

  “Is that really the case?” he asked, giving the man a lopsided grin. “In my experience, those in power trade the citizens like cattle and abuse anything and everyone they can get their slimy little hands on.”

  “And yet I notice a distinct lack of cities burning to the ground. How curious.”

  Freddy snarled. Then he took a deep breath to calm himself. There was no point in antagonizing the man. The fight got him a little too eager for conflict. “Alright then. Let’s say the city is mine. How the hell do I operate it? I don’t know a single thing about governance.”

  “Then appoint someone who does! If they’re doing a bad job, replace them.” The man chuckled. “Look, Mr. Cliff. I’ll be honest with you—you are talented enough to become an Overlord. The empire will give you many things to earn your favor. Because if we don’t, our enemies will. It is as simple as that. But do remember, if you show any intent of becoming our enemy”—his eyes narrowed—“you can predict what comes next.”

  “I understand.”

  It pissed him off to no end how much sense the man was making. It felt wrong. Why was everything in this world winner-takes-all? It was frustrating. Unbelievably so. But his anger at this fact was already waning. He had gazed upon the being who had started it all. He had beheld the principles upon which this world operated.

  He knew he could trust this man’s word.

  Not because this man was trustworthy.

  But because he spoke the plain truth.

  Those who had power had everything.

  This was something Freddy had known for a long, long time.

  But it was only now that he understood just how fundamental this rule was. It could even be said to be the grain upon which the axe of rule splits the world.

  “Okay then,” he said. “I accept the city of Repentawa as my ownership.”

  “I am glad you’re willing to cooperate, Mr. Cliff, but just to clarify, whether you accept it or not, it is already yours.”

  Freddy snorted. “I see.”

  If that was the game, he would play it. Because now, he had power. He had earned his right to change things. And he would do exactly what he’d dreamt of his whole goddamn life.

  He’d bitched about the ruling class long enough.

  Now, it was time to put up or shut up.

  The adjudicator walked over to him and offered him a paper, telling him to sign it.

  “Now,” Freddy said, looking down at his wrecked body. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and not die.”

  “Of course.” The man turned to leave but then paused. “Oh, and please, should you see Mr. Skull, tell him to contact me. I will give him an excellent rate for his products.”

  “Sure,” Freddy said as he turned around to walk away.

  “And one final warning.” The man’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Beware the one who killed your friend. And that man will likely not be the only one who you must be wary of. I presume many will challenge you now that you’re the owner of a city.”

  Freddy scowled. “Does someone get the city if they kill me?”

  The adjudicator smiled at that. “Most likely not.”

  “Most likely, huh?” Freddy laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “At any rate, it won’t stop many from trying. Don’t let your guard down.”

  “That sounds exhausting as hell.”

  “Being in power often is.”

  “Well… duly noted. Have a good day, Adjudicator. I’ll see you around.”

  And with that, they finally separated, going their own way.

  As soon as Freddy turned towards Valhalla, he noticed the people lining the wall. From what he could see, many were confused about what the hell actually happened.

  He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Slowly, he took his balled-up fist—well, more of a crude mass of mangled flesh, really—and raised it into the air. His declaration of victory.

  Disbelieving expressions washed over the wave of people who didn’t dare to believe. And then, thunderous cheers erupted.

  Freddy saw Travis leap over the wall.

  “You!” Travis yelled. “You! How!?” He pointed a finger. “What the fuck was that!? How did you do that!?” he asked, but then raised a hand to stop himself. “Okay, let’s get you inside.” He gently braced his hand against Freddy’s back, wincing at the number and severity of his injuries. “How are you still standing?”

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  “Barely.”

  “You need me to carry you?”

  Freddy eyed him, and then smiled with what was left of his mangled face. “Just lead the way. I can still walk.”

  Freddy followed after Travis. The man offered to carry him several times, but Freddy was nowhere near close enough to death to allow that around so many people.

  As he made his way through the crowd of cheering Valhalla members, the cheers quickly died down, only to be replaced by a flurry of reactions.

  There were many who were crying and hugging their families. Many who were sagging in relief, some to the point of falling to their knees.

  But the bulk of the people standing there simply appeared anxious. A shadow hung over the crowd. They were safe, sure. However, Thor was dead. The days ahead would not be peaceful. Not for a long while.

  For Freddy, this had happened a century ago. In reality, Thor’s corpse hadn’t even cooled down yet.

  There were a few, Travis among them, who had questions.

  Freddy was taken to the infirmary, where the few healers Valhalla had worked to help treat his wounds. He also took some of the medicine provided by the adjudicator. It was pretty damn precious stuff, actually. The biggest bottle was full of supernatural-quality healing potion. He used it sparingly.

  He didn’t rely on 1% Lifesteal, for obvious reasons. Thankfully, the imaginary “Skull” persona would come in handy for explaining how he recovered so thoroughly. But that came later.

  For now, what mattered was putting himself back in one piece. Most of the wounds he’d suffered were quite shallow. Other than his missing arm, of course. Thankfully, he kept the pieces, so putting the arm back together wasn’t too difficult.

  There was a lot of flesh that needed to be regrown with supreme-quality healing, which forced him to use a bit more of the gifted medicine than he was happy to. In the end, he looked visibly mangled, with numerous discolored patches of skin and strange lumps across his body. But for the most part, he felt pretty good.

  He was also given some simple clothes—a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants—but it was far superior to the rotting rags he’d been wearing before that.

  After the healing, Travis shooed the healers away, leaving him and Freddy alone.

  Freddy was the first to break the silence. “I own Repentawa now.”

  Travis’s eyes widened briefly, but then he scoffed. “Figures. I’m surprised the adjudicator didn’t outright suck you off after seeing what you did. In fact, if you asked nicely…”

  Freddy chuckled. An awkward silence settled between them again.

  Travis pointed at his face. “You look like an absolute maniac with the way you cut your hair and beard. Why the hell were they so long?”

  Freddy looked him dead in the eye. “Is that really what you want to know?”

  The man chuckled darkly. “No.” He sat there for a long moment, clearly struggling to contain his anger. “I don’t know what you did. And I don’t need to know. Just tell me”—his voice quivered—”why didn’t you do it before Thor died?”

  Freddy smiled. “Because of him. He told me not to. He told me some things weren’t worth giving away for power. And I made the mistake of believing him.”

  Travis deflated and then looked away with a pained expression. “That sounds just like him. Fucking asshole,” he cursed, rubbing his eyes, clearly lost as to what to direct his anger at.

  Freddy looked calm. Collected. In his mind’s eye, the memory of the man known as Thor was distant. But he still remembered who the man was. What he’d meant to Freddy. But the time to process Thor’s death had passed long ago. Now, all that was left was an old, ugly, nasty scar. One that had grown faint over time.

  One that, unlike his physical scars, would be a part of him forever.

  He looked at his hands. His fingers were all bent out of shape, and his skin around them was a sickly, pale green. “By the way, how much do you know about governing?”

  The man chuckled. “You’re offloading your work on me, I see? Well, Thor taught me everything he knew. Which really isn’t much, but I guess I could handle some paperwork here and there. And what’ll you pay me?”

  “Give me your hand,” Freddy said, then pulled a small brown bag out of his storage ring. He spilled a dose-worth into Travis’s hands. “Make yourself some tea. Drink it, and you’ll become a three-star.”

  The man stared at the starfire mirror rose extract, then tried smiling at it. But his smile was more of an ugly, distorted grimace of hatred and anger. He looked lost and heartbroken. “Why…? Why now, when he isn’t here to see any of it?”

  Freddy tapped the man on his shoulder. He waited beside him, watching the grown man cry like a child.

  Once Travis was finally calm, Freddy tapped him on the arm to get his attention. “Can you gather everyone? I’d like to make a quick speech.”

  Travis nodded. “Yeah. Would be a good idea.” He briefly eyed the state of Freddy’s body. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

  “It’s just a quick speech. It’s not gonna kill me.”

  “Right.” The man chuckled. “Go to the hall when you feel ready.”

  “I’ll go right away,” Freddy said. “Just hurry up.”

  Freddy left the infirmary and made his way to the main hall. It was a large, open room with something of a stage and a podium. He walked over to it and waited.

  Bit by bit, the members of Valhalla poured into the room. He looked from one face to another, disappointed at how few people he recognized. He had met almost everyone in Valhalla. But it appeared that even the memories of a two-star weren’t eternal.

  Eventually, most of everyone gathered.

  Freddy sighed, tapped the voice amplifier to see if it worked. It did. And the sound of his crusty fingernail tapping the crystal echoed through the room more violently than he’d expected. He winced.

  After a final look around, he began his speech, “As you all probably know, Thor is dead. I defended the uh… the uhm… the…” He vaguely gestured around him. “Valhalla. You saw the fight, you know what I mean. Fuck, I am not cut out for public speaking.”

  A few people chuckled at that.

  He continued, “Anyway. Given that I showed quite a bit of promise, I was given Repentawa. This whole city is now mine.”

  Muttering spread throughout the crowd, with many sharing confused looks.

  “Yeah. That’s right. I own everything. Well, all the city property at least. I’m the mayor—well, not the mayor, but like a Lord—but… like… a lowercase lord. Not like a… you know, the one you gotta be a four-star for? Anyway. Uhm… Wow, why is this so hard?” He laughed in self-pity. “Look, I’ll be honest, I haven’t exactly prepared a speech ahead of time. So I’ll just say what’s on my mind.” He paused for a moment, getting lost in scanning the faces in the crowd.

  Faint as his memory might have been, he did have some memories of the days he’d spent knocking on doors. The sights he’d seen back then. The ordinary lives these people lived.

  He was suddenly struck by the reality of what he was facing. Of the sudden burden he was saddled with. It was uncomfortable.

  “I… I’m not really much of a ruler type,” he said. “If I were to really start saying what is uh… what’s going to be what in these parts, I think it would all go to shit pretty fast. And it would be wrong of me to do that. I might have earned the right to this city through whatever twisted logic the empire uses to give things to people, but I don’t deserve it. This city belongs to you,” he said. “You, who have been working for many years to protect it.” Then, he paused for a moment. “I’ll be keeping a good part of the taxes though.”

  That got another laugh out of the crowd. But a few people scowled at him with hostile expressions. The joke didn’t land well with everyone. He winced. “Not to worry, I’ll make sure to invest back into the city. I’ll keep… uh… killing people? Wait, that’s not a nice way to put it. I uh… I’ll keep, you know… I’ll be around to get violent against anyone who wants to mess around on my property.”

  Many shot him concerned looks.

  “Or peaceful!” he quickly added. “If that’s an option, at least. So go ham. Fix this fucked up city. Do what you’ve always done best. Just, you know… without so much resistance this time.”

  A man standing in the front row raised a hand. “What are you going to do about the economy?”

  Before Freddy could even think of an answer, another man butted in, “Are you going to invest into small businesses?”

  A woman pushed a little closer to add, “Will you create laws against mortal discrimination!?”

  “What about the other corporations that lost their leaders!?”

  “Are there any plans to create a free public school!?”

  “Will you give people with children tax breaks!?”

  “Will Valhalla become an official police force!? If it will, where do we apply for the job?”

  Freddy winced at the sudden influx of questions. Panicked, he raised the sound amplifier. “I uh… I’m not… I don’t know.” He suddenly broke into a coughing fit. “Oh, wow, I’m feeling a bit sick suddenly.” He waved at Travis. “Come on up, it’s your turn.”

  The man chuckled, shaking his head. Then, he slowly nodded and walked up to the stage. Freddy handed him the voice amplifier. Then, he turned around and headed for the exit.

  “Wait,” Travis called, putting the voice amplifier down so that the others wouldn’t hear him. “Do you actually feel sick? Do you need someone to take you to the infirmary?”

  “Just take over, man,” Freddy said. “I have someone to check up on.”

  The man slowly nodded and turned to the crowd. He began his speech, sounding considerably less unprepared.

  Freddy, meanwhile, practically bolted out of the room. As soon as he was in the empty hallway, he repeatedly slapped himself. “A speech!? What the fuck was I thinking!? Me, hold a speech? Why didn’t I just let Travis do it? God I’m so dumb sometimes.”

  It was incredible how embarrassed he felt. Being away from people for so long had left him sensitive to social anxiety. He just wanted to crawl into a hole for another hundred years and die.

  Shoving his embarrassment down, he tried to remember where Sophia’s room was.

  He was surprisingly calm about seeing her again. Well, he knew what to expect. He’d seen her earlier that same day, technically. Spoiler alert, she was still braindead. He doubted much had changed since then.

  The reason he was headed to see her was curiosity more than anything.

  In his memories, cold, hard information came back a lot more easily than emotions. He remembered who Sophia was. What they’d done together. But he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he felt about the girl. Or why he even cared about her so much.

  He could understand why he’d kept her alive. Their talents had a spectacular synergy. They were also friends, kind of. All that made sense.

  But he could also see that there had been a sort of obsession on his part. Not a romantic one, either. He could understand if it was just a crush on a cute girl. But it wasn’t. And he had no idea what it was.

  He stopped before her room, finally finding himself hesitating. Once he pushed the door open, he feared he’d discover something unpleasant about himself.

  Ever since he’d left the dungeon, everything felt… annoying. Almost like he was attempting to take over someone else’s life, and that someone’s long-buried emotions were too faint to really identify what that person had wanted.

  Sighing, he finally stopped putting things off.

  He slowly pushed the door open.

  Sitting in her wheelchair, her arm and leg missing, her other arm twisted at an odd angle, was Sophia, her skin a pale green and her hair a thin, bleached blonde.

  And she was staring at him.

  Eyes wide open.

  A smile on her face.

  Immediately, he felt a strong rush of emotions flood his mind. He thought of the life-and-death bullshit they’d lived through. He remembered how he recognized the fucked up mentality of another person with a horrible upbringing. She was a lunatic. A different shade of the same color as he. A kindred spirit, carrying the same unjust scars.

  And a fate, most likely, much like the one he was cursed by.

  “So… phia…?” he called, his voice raspy and weak as his throat tightened.

  “Hello there, Mr. Stern,” she greeted. But it was strange. Her cadence was off. It was unlike her.

  He frowned, squinting his eyes at her. “Sophia?” He took a cautious step forward.

  “Ah,” she said, shaking her head. “No. The one you are speaking to isn’t your friend.”