Frank looked across the sluice at the husk of the smith. It stared back, flames licking out of the holes in its face. It swung its hammer over the ruined channel, the gout of flame that arced in front of it nearly searing Frank as he desperately avoided it.

It was incredibly dangerous to deal with these attacks. The fire sprayed out from the initial arc quite widely, and even if he wasn’t hit by the flame directly he could still get burned from the air around it. This left him in an unfortunate situation where he had to throw himself out of the way if he wanted to avoid getting singed. Having avoided damage for a moment, he took the opportunity to shuck his pack and toss it into the darkness.

Frank had a further issue to contend with. The only lights in the room were the forge and his enemy. Large portions of the forge were wreathed in darkness. A stray piece of metal or rotten bucket could end him if he left the small area properly illuminated. With his movement so constrained, he could not continue to retreat into the room.

Frustrated by continually missing its target, the husk screamed again, flames erupting from the lower half of its face. Then it agilely vaulted the sluice towards Frank, whipping it’s rusted hammer horizontally as it rushed him.

The gout of flame covered a much wider area than the previous diagonal slashes, and Frank was forced to drop down under it. Rather than attempt to flee, he dove forward into a roll, coming to his feet close to the husk. He felt the heat radiating off it.

The husk attempted to bring the hammer to bear on Frank but was interrupted by the slash of his sword. The scimitar clean sliced off its left arm right below the elbow. Once more the monster gave an anguished scream. A pillar of fire erupted from the stump of its arm, which it waved at him as it dropped the hammer and cried in agony. Frank barely had time to bring his arms to shield his face when the fire sprayed across his front.

Pain assaulted him. A decade of experience did not magically make it go away, and his stability was lower than it had been since the beginning. He reeled back, his gambeson damaged and smoking, his leather gloves uncomfortably hot even though they were not hit directly.

His face was red. He knew it would blister later. His eyes ached. He squinted, blinking through tears as he tried to see what his opponent was doing. A blurry outline of it cradling its stump came into focus. His ears were filled with inhuman shrieks.

He had held onto his sword. He could feel the heat from the metal spreading to his palm, like holding a casserole dish for too long with a dishtowel. His hand would burn, he knew.

He forced himself, still half-blind to approach the burned corpse again. The flames in its eyes seemed dying embers, but he could not properly see. It cowered away from him, still screaming. Frank raised his sword as he walked towards it. As he took the final step, its screaming ceased, and for a moment it was still. Then the fire emanating from it flared back up and it tried in that last moment to fight back. It was too late.

The sword collided with its head, the burnt shell shattering into coals. A pillar of fire burst from its neck, up into the ceiling with such intensity it spread out a dozen feet in each direction, briefly lighting up the ruined corners of the room.

Frank’s sword immediately became red hot, and he dropped it reflexively, saving himself a serious burn. The inferno died out after a few seconds, and the smouldering corpse pitched forward.

Burnt Out Husk of a Smith Possessed by the Flame of Vitality (Level 5) defeated. 1500 EXP awarded. Cool Sunglasses awarded. Petrified Wooden Shield awarded.

Frank dismissed the notification, stripping off his charred gloves. His hands were red with irritation, and his right, which had held the sword when he finished off the husk, had a nasty burn where the hilt of it had rested that would no doubt blister. He removed his gambeson, wincing as the fabric scratched over similar burns on his arms. He could smell burned hair. It was disgusting. He walked over to his pack, holding the burns on his limbs against unburned parts of him to transfer some of the heat. His vision cleared.

He groaned, and that brought him the realization that his throat had been exposed to too much heat as well. It hurt to groan.

He found his pack, using his less hurt hand to heft it over his shoulder. Then he put on the sunglasses and picked up the shield. He’d check them later. His gambeson, slightly damaged but still usable, was bunched up in his hand. He used it to pick up the sword, still hot, and then quickly stepped through the arch. He’d be able to find the exit later.

Reappearing in the room he’d left minutes ago, he saw Rina and Bill staring at him from the doorway. Maria was out of sight, presumably watching the other entrance for enemies. He watched them as he stepped out of the gloom. First, they noticed the sunglasses he wore with confusion, then their expressions became concern and worry when they saw his arms. He threw the sword aside before it burned him again.

“Shit Frank, you don’t look good,” Bill exclaimed at the sight.

“I don’t feel good,” Frank replied. “I think that health potion might have to get used.”

Rina shouted for Maria to come over. She had been a fair distance away, looking back towards their origin, but at the call, she turned and walked over. One look at Frank and she frowned. She hesitated, torn, but then produced the health potion he had earlier given her before anyone even asked her.

It reminded Frank of himself, hesitating. He took it from her though. He placed it on the ground and used his better hand to twist off the plastic cap, and then chugged it. Visibly his skin began to regain its natural colour, the raised bumps where’d he been burned the worst faded away, and his throat felt much better. Wounds of the level he’d sustained would completely disappear in short order.

He sat then, the other three looking at him with concern.

“I need a moment,” Frank said.

First, he examined his rewards

Cool Sunglasses WIS +1

These stylish aviators are perfect for any heart or oval-shaped face, but their durable construction and timeless lines complement anyone. Petrified Wooden Shield CON +1

Made from a tree taken from a deep under a bog, it’s hard as a rock but light as any wood. The simplicity of the construction belies the skill of its maker.

Frank then looked at his status. He’d levelled up again. He put his stat points into stability, vitality, constitution, and knowledge again.

Frank HP 90/90 Level 9 Human (800/2880EXP) MP 0 Saviour SP 20/74 Strength 11 Knowledge 8 Agility 10(9) Intelligence 10 Constitution 10(6) Stability 10 Vitality 8(7) Wisdom 7(6)

The shield was a relief. The entire time he’d been fighting without one, it’d been unnatural and awkward. He constantly had to combat his own muscle memory.

Frank stood up. “If you follow me we can head to the second floor. After what I had to deal with on the first floor, I’m not tackling the second floor’s end. We can just scout the first half repeatedly until we find a health potion.”

“We can leave from the second floor, right?” asked Maria.

“Yes,” Frank replied, before grabbing the sword, which had cooled rapidly and was now only uncomfortable to hold.

The others followed him as he went back into the dark room and through the arch. They all looked at the dimly lit forge with surprise. The corpse of the smith had disappeared, but the area where it had fallen was abnormally warm.

“There will be an exit to this room somewhere that leads to the second floor,” Frank told them, before going to search for it himself. He carefully walked out of the light to the darkness of the wall. These kinds of rooms never had nasty surprises after the fact, so he was only cautious not to trip on something. The others followed his lead.

It was Bill who found the way down.

“I got a message!” he yelled.

Frank and the others converged on him and got it too.

Enter the second floor?

The three looked towards Frank, and he nodded. Once they winked out of existence he willed himself to accept the prompt. The room they now stood in was identical to the starting room on the first floor. Frank unslung his pack, removing his sleeping bag from the top and spreading it out on the hard floor.

“I need to rest. Health potions wipe you out.” He told them, before removing his boots and climbing in. He didn’t check to see what the others did, just laid down and closed his eyes.

Frank awoke hours later. Bill was napping, one sleeping bag borrowed from one of the women as a pillow, the other a blanket. Maria was going through her pack. Rina sat looking at the lone hallway exiting.

The sound of him sitting up alerted the two women.

“You’re awake. Are you feeling better?” Rina asked.

“I am,” Frank replied, as he exited his sleeping bag and put his boots back on.

“That’s good,” Rina said. She awkwardly looked at Frank for a moment.

“I was wondering if you could, uhh, teach us to fight?” she asked.

Frank looked at her. “I can show you the absolute basics. I’m not a spear kind of guy though.”

“I’d appreciate that. I feel so out of place right now.” Rina said. “This is all so unreal and all I’m doing is tagging along. If I do something constructive I think it’ll help.”

“The enemies we’ve seen so far just aren’t conducive to being defeated without a real weapon. If it’s more of the same, then it won’t matter whether I train you or not. Just so you know. There’s simply nothing you can do to those armours with your spear.”

“That, I realized that,” Rina said looking down. “But this is a chance. Even if this feels like a dream I know it's not and you are the only person I can learn about what’s going on from.”

“Give me a few minutes to eat and I’ll go over some things,” Frank told her.

He then turned to his pack and pulled out food. He went with a military ration. The little chemical heater provided him with a warm meal in a few minutes. He ate slowly as he pondered his situation.

He was in a dungeon with three people who would be helpless without him. The dungeon gave him time, but he would still need to make a decision before everyone ran out of supplies.

The decision of what he wanted to do. And also the decision of what he was able to do. Seattle seemed an obvious place to go to. A major city. There’d hundreds of thousands of survivors potentially. He could help the most people there.

He still hadn’t thought about how he’d help them, though. What exactly could he do? Spread basic information around obviously. But a good portion of those gathered in the city would starve. He had no idea how to deal with that. And if he went there, would that impede him from getting stronger.

Say he arrived and people believed him and he became a leader. Would he then fight and grow stronger? His status a time traveller made him feel like he should be able to change something, but he didn’t see an easy path. He felt torn. On the one hand, he could use his knowledge to try and quickly get stronger. On the other hand that presented a huge risk to his survival. He didn’t want to die. And even if he willingly accepted the possibility, was it even better for him to take that risk? Should he play it slow and ensure his survival so he can spread the information he has now as much as possible?

Then there was the issue of other time travellers, potentially hostile. What information did they know? He had no idea. How many were there? No idea. And that was an important question, he realized. The more time travellers, the more likely it is that one of them both takes risks and survives those risks. Knowing that one of his maybe enemies was rapidly growing stronger changed things.

He could think of all these possibilities, but he rarely ever found the most logical solution. He just left them there, unanswered instead. Frank’s thoughts drifted to his own mind, to his paradoxical shift in remorse. He still didn’t have an answer for that either. Or for why he felt so different in general.

Introspection had a tendency to turn negative for him, so he pushed it aside and forcefully replaced it with the thought of training Rina.

“Are you ready for me to show you the basics?” He asked her, standing up with his sword in hand.