Getting down to the docks got harder and harder even with the veteran hero. Lots of urmatians were trying to get to the docks. The town didn’t seem built big enough for everyone and didn’t follow what John would assume were basic layouts for how towns should be. Many of the structures looked different from each other, too. They hogged up space and pinched every available avenue toward the docks.

“Watch your belongings, y’all,” Betsy said. “Goblin kiddies will get bold and go for a hero who looks green.”

“Are those what those little gremlins are?” John said. He’d seen what he assumed were raccoons squirreling around in the dark corners of the town.

“Most urmatians here are going to have levels because they met the system requirements,” Betsy said. “But you’ll find goblin kiddies with no levels and are fragile as heck. Unless you want a gobbo child splattering across your boot, keep the lookout.”

“Why would they do such a thing?” Xanhilt asked.

“Cause they’re poor as shit and got nothing else to lose other than their lives,” Betsy said. “I ain’t got much against them. Goblins are useful. But I can’t always be bothered watching out for ‘em when they’re trying to grift me.”

“You’re drooling again, Xanhilt,” Noname said.

Xanhilt jolted and wiped at his mouth.

“The saurian hungers like a saurian,” one of the gnolls said.

“Saurian hero with an appetite,” another gnoll said. “Reminds me of your ma.”

The gnolls burst into crazed laughter as Xanhilt ducked his head down in embarrassment.

“Knock it off, guys,” John said.

“Yes, yes, hero,” a gnoll said.

John shook his head at them, still walking ahead. He wasn’t looking at what was in front of him. He got caught off guard when Noname’s hand pressed against his chest. He was going to ask what was wrong when he saw a little shin-high fella dart by under them and weave around stomping boots, claws, and hooves.

John tried to identify and barely caught a glimpse of a [Goblin Spawn] before it disappeared behind a bunch of legs. He thanked Noname for helping him keep his conscience clean. Stepping on goblin kids sound pretty messed up to him.

“Why don’t they have Lvls?” Xanhilt asked.

“Technically, they’re at Lvl 0 like when we started. They’re living on their own natural traits and not the system’s improvements,” Betsy explained. “That’ll get solved once they meet a certain requirement. That’s why a bunch of these urmatians are around your levels. They didn’t get their systems unlocked until they were of age.”

“So, if you weren’t here, this entire operation would be run by young adults?” Xanhilt croaked.

“Some are older than you think, elves. Some are younger in the years, like goblins and gnolls,” Betsy said as if it was an okay thing to let newly matured adults handle all of this responsibility.

John glanced around him and the growing levels of debauchery taking over the town. The night was still young, and the celebrations were getting wilder than anything he’d ever experienced.

“You see now?” Betsy looked over her shoulder at John. “I had a good reason to hold back the soul mending bomb. It’ll take three days for all you younglings to get back in order when you get to reveling. But you asked kindly enough. Just know I won’t be doing this again until we complete the campaign. So, enjoy tonight like it’s your last.”

“Yes, ma’am,” John and Xanhilt said together.

Noname watched silently while her hand remained against John’s chest. She didn’t have to leave it there since he was keeping a lookout for little goblins now, but he didn’t stop her from keeping in contact with him. He was tempted to take her hand.

You know what, why not?

He took her hand. For a split second, Noname turned rigid. Then she slowly pulled her hand out of his grasp and moved a few inches away from him. John didn’t take it as a hard rejection. There was a spark of something there. He could feel it. For now, he refocused on not getting lost in the crowd and keeping a watch of what was on the ground.

Eventually, dirt transitioned to wooden boards. Water lapped against the shores with a quiet roar drowned under the hoots, hollers, and cheers of young urmatians celebrating. Medieval music filled the air. Voices raised in song. The festive mood had followed John from the battlefield, through the gate, across town, and now over the water.

A hundred ships, large and small, had lanterns lit, turning the night into a light show. Some ships looked vastly different compared to others. John noticed that the elves had ships that looked like floating biodomes decorated with glowing crystals and strange creatures that fluttered around their leafy sails. Across from one elven beauty of a ship was one that had as much metal as it did wood while having a sharp, bladed look ready to thrust through anything. That one had dwarves on it, John saw.

“Where is your ship, Miss Betsy?” Xanhilt asked politely.

The senior hero pointed up.

They looked up.

For some reason, it reminded John of a stallion without legs. It had a horse’s head at the front and a wide hull with intricate engravings filled with silver and gold that reflected the many lights. It was a giant ship, from what John could tell. Even while floating hundreds of feet above all the other ships. It was alone up there, which made it a surprise for John that he hadn’t noticed it at first.

“Did it stop being invisible?” Noname asked.

“You’re a sharp girl,” Betsy said. “Here’s our ride.”

A smaller vessel separated from Betsy’s ship and hovered down to their position. The dinghy was large enough for John, Noname, Xanhilt, the senior hero, the loot, and the winged creature at the helm. John froze as he looked up at the grey-skinned man with clawed feet and sharp teeth. The [Gargoyle Guard, Lvl 64] unfurled his wings and extended them wide, glowering over Betsy’s guests.

“These three are coming up with me, Asmod,” Betsy said, getting onto the dinghy. “You gnolls can pile in everything here.”

The gnolls did as they were told while under Asmod’s watchful glare. Once they were done, they came over to pat John on the back.

“See you later, hero.”

“Come find us and drink with us, hero.”

“John the Brawler!”

He waved them goodbye, feeling elated that he earned the respect of some vicious-looking creatures. It was like the praise he would receive for winning a boxing match, but greater.

Once they were all aboard, Asmod gestured his hands in circles toward the main vessel. The dinghy lifted away from the docks and soared upward. Salty wind blew against John’s face. He watched with wonder as Skullhead’s Landing shrank away from him. The higher they went, the more impressive the glimmering lights looked against a backdrop of black. Then when he looked above him, the entire universe stood out to him while up in the sky.

“It’s so bright,” John said. “I’ve never seen stars like this in the old world.”

“Less light pollution in Urmatia,” Betsy said.

“I can see that as well,” Xanhilt said.

“It’s… pretty,” Noname said with a slight inflection. Her eyes looked over John’s way. His eyes connected with hers and held briefly.

She looked away again, of course, but not as quickly as prior times.

***

John watched as rivulets of mucky water drained away down a grate below him. The shower was actually like a shower from the old world molded into a floating ship that mainly was wood. But not all of it was wood. Somehow, through magic, John figured, Betsy’s ship, [The Tower Chaser, Rare], had a combination of medieval and not-so medieval designs. Like having a shower room with floor tiles, pipes with glowing runes that ran temperature-controlled water, and a metal shower head with a manual switch for showering options.

It was all pretty nifty.

But nothing beat the feel of gunk washing away like he was shedding dirty skin. It was gross at first to watch. But it became mesmerizing in a way. Like he was getting reborn again throughout the cleansing process. John looked down at his knuckles as water streamed over them. These things had punched through monster skulls. They had killed creatures that were out for blood. They were truly weapons now. His weapons. And the power his fists contained was his responsibility to wield.

But every now and then, John would find himself fascinated with an idea of repaying his killer. It had only been a week, but the difference between the John now and the John then was vast. What would Kevin do if the John now had come at him with full force?

The thought made John angry. Made him wish he could get a second crack at that murderous loser. As amazing as everything was right now, he wouldn’t have to deal with this if Kevin hadn’t brought a freaking gun to school and used it because he couldn’t take getting his ass handed to him for being a bully. If the gun hadn’t been a thing, John would be home in his own shower. He would be with his parents. Or he’d be staying up playing games with Reggie even though he’d probably have some early morning drills with Coach Jackson the next day.

It felt like it had been a while since he could be alone with his own thoughts. It made him feel a little jittery. Unsure. He almost wanted to just sit down and let the water wash over him for a while. Just blank out. But he was the last to enter the shower, and everyone was going to wait for him before they ate. Knowing Xanhilt, that was going to be torture for the saurian. The shower wasn’t the right place for some alone time anyway.

“But it’s nice to get clean again,” John said, running his fingers through his hair.

It was the little things in life that made all the difference.

After he finished showering, he toweled off and found an outfit in the wardrobe room. They were good quality shirt, breeches, and leather shoes. Each article had an enchantment that boosted his vitality, which was interesting.

Looking down at the pile of dirty rags that had once been his clothes, he found his cestus gloves. They were torn up. They still had their good quality enchantment, but John couldn’t imagine wearing them anymore. Consequently, he noticed his Weapon Art skills were inaccessible without the gloves.

“Maybe I can find a better pair later,” he said.

Leaving the changing area, he entered the ship’s passageway, where a couple of goblins were streaming by. Betsy liked to hire them because they worked for cheap. So she paid them a little extra than what anyone else would pay them, and she hadn’t lost any of her valuables since. They were also perceptive creatures.

John didn’t like how they leered up at him. They had beady eyes and sharp teeth. They liked to snicker and gossip in hush tones that were hard to hear. It was kind of creepy. But the goblins didn’t bother him directly, so he didn’t bother them. He found every one of his concerns in the mess hall. There was a table set with more food that would put his family’s thanksgiving to shame.

“What am I looking at?” John said.

“Xanhilt’s wet dream,” Noname said.

The saurian was gazing up at the ceiling, his mouth hanging open, filled with running drool. He was dressed in the same outfit as John, but smaller.

Looking back to Noname, John took a moment to admire. She was wearing a royal blue dress that ended in frills around the shins. A pair of ankle-strapped sandals finished the look as she sat on the table’s bench and kicked playfully under the table.

“Come and sit.” She patted a spot on the bench next to her.

John smiled. He took his seat and noticed the faint scent of rose-like perfume airing from Noname’s body. He tried not to look at her. He tried not to take a big whiff. Instead, he focused on the smogus board of food right in front of him. His appetite roared suddenly, surprising him with its fierceness. He didn’t realize he was that hungry.

“When… do… we… eat?” Xanhilt moaned.

“When I appear!” Betsy entered the mess in a black sparkly gown, boots, and cowboy hat. Her hair fell in dark brown waves behind her shoulders. Ruby red lips gleamed under the crystals that shone light from the ceiling.

For someone way older than she appeared, she looked great. The glass bottles of alcohol carried in by her goblin servants looked great, too. John identified them as [Giant’s Brew] of various qualities ranging from good to [???].

“I didn’t know this was going to get fancy,” John said. “Would’ve worn my best suit.”

“This is more for me than for y’all,” Betsy said, sweeping in to take a seat at the head of the table.

She grasped a fluted glass and held it out. Two of her goblin servants popped open the bottle with [???] quality and poured her some of the fizzling drink for her to sip. They went around and poured the good-quality bottles into the glasses for everyone else.

“I haven’t had younglings as guests in my ship in a while,” she said in between sips. “And you three, in particular, come across as special younglings.”

“I’m special too?” Noname asked.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you eye every person around. You look like you have an agenda to kill them all if necessary. Except for John and Xanhilt, of course.”

“Nice to know I’m not on your kill list,” John said.

“Food…” Xanhilt moaned.

“Go on, go on before I start yabbering. This isn’t just a fine night for me, after all. You really did do something special out there, John, so let this be part of the reward for you and your friends.”

Xanhilt need not hear more from her as he grabbed a piece of ham and shoved it into his maw. Utensils went completely ignored. He grabbed any piece of meat he saw and devoured it. Moments later, after staining his new shirt, Xanhilt got in control of himself and looked around the table with furtive glances.

“I’m terrible,” he said.

“Nah, man, don’t say that,” John said soothingly.

“I can’t control myself in good company,” he replied. “Is this why I’m hated? Because I’m not a herbivore?”

Betsy swished her drink around as she eyed the saurian. “I do have strong feelings toward your kind, Xanhilt. Part of me wants to just reach over and flick my finger. Watch your face disappear.”

John tensed.

Noname fastened her hand around a buttery knife.

“Sorry, those are words that aren’t best said at the table.” Betsy held out her glass and received a repour. “Just know that you are a hero, Xanhilt. I don’t quite get how it happened, but the gods chose you. As long as you’re doing your best, I will stand beside you.”

Xanhilt hummed softly. “I have my doubts, but I do appreciate your words.”

The dinner continued, although a little more subdued now. The air felt weird. Everyone seemed stiff. John felt that with himself especially. Don’t really know what to say. There were lots of things he should say. Too much, really. Maybe he just couldn’t muster the ability to speak now.

“Is there no going back home?” Noname asked out of the blue. John blinked at her, shocked.

Xanhilt looked at her curiously. So, did Betsy.

“No,” the lady of the ship said.

“How do you know for sure?” Noname asked.

“Because we died in the old world and been given a second chance here,” Betsy said simply enough. “Trying to reverse that isn’t in the stars for us.”

“I wouldn’t want to reverse it,” Noname said. “But maybe Xanhilt or John might.”

“That’s, uh, thoughtful,” John said.

“Very much so,” the saurian added.

“It would be nice if the people who don’t want this can go back and recontinue their lives,” Noname said. “If there was a way to pay for it, maybe it could be possible to bring the magic here to our world.”

“Child, that is a price that is heftier than you can imagine,” Betsy replied. “But I must say I wasn’t prepared for you to have your concerns for others.”

“Why?” John asked.

“Didn’t seem like the type,” Betsy said. “I’ve seen heroes like you, John. And I’ve seen heroes like her. Not so much you, Xanhilt, but you catch my drift. I’ve seen enough to predict certain things. And I can predict you’ll make a fine killer, girl.”

“Is that needed in Urmatia?” Noname asked.

“More than you know,” Betsy said.

John didn’t like the sound of that. “But there’s more to us heroes than killing, right?”

“There’s more, of course. There’s my current position, advising. There’s teaching. There are public stunts for powerful figures. There’s good ol’ protect and serving. Killing is just our bread and butter mainly. Killing monsters. Or killing villains.”

“I’ll probably be good at the latter,” Noname said.

“Can I research?” Xanhilt asked.

Betsy didn’t answer for a long stretch. “In between assignments, you get, sure. The elves have a handle on research and history. They can be pretty nasty about it when you don’t adhere to their ways.”

“Is there an option for us not to do the hero biz?” John hedge carefully. Gotta consider all my options before I lean all the way in.

“Yeah, but you lose out on a lot of support from the infrastructure that’s been built for you. You’ll have to manage on your own, which is dangerous, of course. You’ll always be a target as a hero. But nobody will keep you bound if you decide to leave after we finish the campaign.”

John tapped a fork on his plate as he contemplated Betsy’s words. “I would enjoy this a lot more if Xanhilt wasn’t getting persecuted and that Victor guy wasn’t lying about his theft.”

“Xanhilt’s case is rough,” Betsy said. “I agree with you there. But in time, maybe we can make things better. But the case between you and Victor, I can allow you to settle your beef without fighting.”

John and Xanhilt perked up.

“I would be most gracious if this Victor human can be shown the error of his ways,” Xanhilt said.

“Same,” Noname said.

“Wouldn’t go over well if I solve the problem directly,” Betsy said. “I got an eye on that Victor, and he got some good qualities to him.”

John screwed his face up at the sound of that. Xanhilt hissed quietly.

“But I’ve been doing this long enough to know that boys like you gotta settle things somehow someway.” The senior hero grinned. “There’s no doubt he stole from you guys. I can tell.”

“But you didn’t intervene!” Xanhilt shouted.

“I was watching how things go,” Betsy said. “Learning more about you all. And frankly, I was pleased as pudding when John turned to make good use of me.”

“John can be clever,” Noname said.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Hm, that’s good.” Betsy nodded. “Well, I’ll give you something to help in a few days. Just try not to get into a big tussle without me officiating. You both have enough power to kill each other and destroy parts of town.”

“It’s like that?” John asked.

“Yes, it is certainly like that,” Betsy answered.

John mulled it over. “Alright. If you got something that can bring that jerk down a peg, I’d do it your way.”

They ate so more. Drank even more. And started to chat more comfortably with each other. John learned that Betsy used to train horses growing up. She died falling off of one, then she became [The Tower Crasher] when she literally crashed two towers against each other. How she did, it was a story for another night.

Following that were Xanhilt’s explanations about how he was on his way to fly into the stars on a spaceship. The saurian world sounded like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

Then, to John’s surprise, he learned from Noname she had once dreamed of being a seamstress. Betsy added that could easily be incorporated into her work, but she didn’t go into any further details.

“I need to know something, miss,” Xanhilt said, bringing everyone’s attention toward him. There were goblin shipmates hanging around in the corners, whispering quietly as they ate until the saurian’s words pulled at everyone’s attention. The whole mess became quiet.

The saurian fidgeted in his seat. “How does it work? How does magic work? And why is it tied to this game system?”

Betsy sighed. “I’m going over all of that when classes start in a couple of days. Takes a good amount of my yammering to even talk about the vital parts.”

John was interested, too. But he was buzzed, which made concentrating on information hard. He was also busy playing footsie with Noname. She kept winning somehow, planting her foot over his no matter how many times he tried to reverse it.

“I do not think I can wait that long,” Xanhilt said. “The drink is good. The food is excellent. I feel better than I’ve felt prior. But I am too aware of being here without my sayso. Please, miss Betsy, feed my curiosity.”

Betsy studied him the saurian for a good while. As the time waned, Xanhilt started to look sullen from the lack of a response.

“May I be excused?” Noname asked with a slight slur.

“Yes, you may,” Betsy said.

Noname got up and padded away, the frills swaying with every step.

“You are excused, too, John.” Betsy flashed him a smile.

John smiled back and got up.

“Perhaps I should go?” Xanhilt asked.

Betsy gave the saurian a sidelong glance. “No. We’re going to chat about your questions. You and I, okay?”

Xanhilt’s eyes widened with glee.

John sighed with relief. He was glad the veteran hero was giving his friend a chance here. Still, he stayed around and gave Betsy a look not to try anything against Xanhilt.

Betsy snorted at him. “Go, John.”

“I’ll see you later, John.”

“Yeah, man, later.”

John strolled down the passageway toward the guest quarters. His stride was a little tilted. The edges of his vision blurred out sightly. He might’ve drank more than he should’ve. The drinks were sweet and strong. Really strong. Betsy had said the drinks were magically enchanted to help get past their resilience. But there were other tricks for reducing the potency of one’s own attributes. She had mentioned briefly that you could mindfully weaken yourself somehow.

John thought that would be useful since he was concerned with his own strength. His mind wondered how he could reduce the power of those attributes as he opened and closed the door to the guest quarter.

There were only two beds, queen-sized and one king. John had already picked the queen-sized one. The other two could share the king.

Noname laid on his bed with her sandals off.