“Elzio? Are you all right? You look rather pale.” Sir Thomas peered at Elzio, eyes narrowing, concerned more than stern. “I’ve heard from Professor Syrene that you’ve learned about your upcoming match. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. Your plans for the arena are so foolproof any one of you could take out the forest echo alone. Is there something else bothering you?”

Sir Thomas’s words flowed past Elzio’s ears. After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Elzio forced a weak smile.

“We haven’t been given much time to prepare,” Elzio said, words sounding hollow in his own ears.

“Ah, but with your team at your side and the arena crafted as well as you’ve managed, what preparation could you need? If you have concerns, I recommend taking them up with Professor Riylers.” With this, Sir Thomas clapped him on the shoulder and turned off, heading up the way Elzio came.

What preparation was needed indeed?

—

Elzio lay awake in bed that night, simulating the battle to come in his head. Not the fights against the echos—those would come and go with barely a thought. No, Elzio was thinking of Nexus Deluuth. The months to come promised endless research on the country, on their heroes, their fighting styles, the arenas they’d created before and how that battlefield might look when the Pyrthet heroes had to fight it. The arena was the unsung third party, and arena construction was as much Elzio’s specialty as summoning. That said, could a level 5 nexus take on a level 15? Was there a case where such an upset could occur? Could an expertly crafted battlefield, the perfect team, the most immaculate strategy ever overtake such a huge level disparity?

No.

No, the answer was no. No, no, no every time. They couldn’t take this to battle. Elzio needed to play a different game here. A political game. Go back to Sir Thomas’s study, find any and all incriminating evidence, and bring the collection to the council. The idea didn’t sit well with Elzio, though. At some point, his research would catch someone’s attention. And he didn’t know who else Sir Thomas might have enlisted in the citadel.

But Elzio didn’t have a choice here. Sir Thomas had betrayed his nexus, but more importantly he’d betrayed the heroes and the city. He would face justice.

Elzio finally fell into a fitful sleep, alternating between playing out strategies in his mind and watching them fail in his nightmares. There was too much at stake. Deluuth would consume Pyrthet. The heroes would all die. The citizens would fall to the same subjugated rule that Deluuth forced upon all conquered nations. Their heartless rule had stained the pages of many history books. Pyrthet would just be another chapter.

A bright flash snapped Elzio’s eyes open, and he sat bolt upright in bed. A few moments of panicked breathing passed as he tried to discern if it had been a dream that had awoken him or if something had invaded his room. Then his eyes fell to his lap. It was so dark in the room that he almost missed it, the scrap of shimmering paper, crackling with energy.

He picked up the parchment hesitantly, but it did no harm to his hands as he slowly unfolded it. His fingers tensed as they gripped the paper, too smooth to be natural, too sleek. Slowly, his eyes made out the words, just magical enough to glow.

You were sloppy today, young master. Sir Thomas is smarter a man than you think. I would run if I were you.

Elzio didn’t take the time to analyze this note as it melted away in his hand. He could think and run at the same time.

He slipped from his bed, focusing his energy on creating a slumbering doppelganger.

The shimmering text appeared in the corner of his eye, detailing the levels of the Summon Doppelganger spell.

~

Summon Doppelganger

Level 1: Physical copy, cannot move, 10 hit points, no stats, vanishes upon death

Level 2: Physical copy, must be puppeted, has 10% stats, remains upon death as long as the spell is refreshed

Level 3: Copy, can be ordered, has 30% stats, remains upon death as long as the spell is refreshed

Level 4: Battle copy, can be ordered, has 50% stats, can cast abilities below doppel level, retains visual traits of the original (assuming known), remains upon death as long as the spell is refreshed

Level 5: Battle copy, can be ordered, has 60% stats, retains 25% of buffs, can cast abilities below doppel level, retains visual traits, remains upon death as long as the spell is refreshed — 300 mana, 40 second cooldown, concentration (75 mana)

~

The words barely registered before he selected level 1, and they disappeared. Spells increased in mana cost and cooldown length the higher the level, and Elzio needed to conserve resources. The doppelganger wouldn’t need to fight or run or even hold a conversation. It just needed to lay slumbering, on the chance an enemy entered. All Elzio would have to do to maintain it was keep concentration: refresh it every cooldown for 25% of its base cost. Expending such a small amount of mana would be doable, given his mana recharge, so now his attention turned to escape.

The door was the easiest route from the room, but also the easiest route to the room. If Sir Thomas were coming, that would be how he entered. If. If this letter was to be believed. If Sir Thomas was launching some kind of assassination attempt this very night.

If.

But what did Elzio have to lose? If he ran, looked like a fool, and nothing came of it, then he looked like a fool. But who could have known he’d broken into Sir Thomas’s chambers? Sir Thomas, certainly. So maybe this was a trap. Could another person have known? Someone working with Sir Thomas who got cold feet? Again, maybe. But unless the old man was waiting outside, crossbow trained on Elzio’s window, escape was still the right call.

So Elzio turned to the window. Utility, utility, what utility spells did he have? He was a support hero, this was supposed to be where he shone. Yet here he stood, frozen at the window sill, staring down at two hundred feet of smooth rock wall, hair blowing gently in a calm breeze that did not match how he felt at the moment.

A sudden noise down the hall snapped his mind into gear. Real or imagined? Innocuous or sinister? There was no time to find out. And there was no time for an elegant solution. When all else fails, stick to what you know.

~

Summon Mundane Item

Level 1: Less than 5 pounds, no magical attributes, exact location must be known

Level 2: Less than 8 pounds, no magical attributes, exact location must be known

Level 3: Less than 10 pounds, no magical attributes, general location must be known

~

Elzio summoned a rope. Thirty feet long, five pounds, one of the ropes they used in the stables. It wouldn’t be long enough to reach bottom, but it didn’t have to be. He deftly tied a knot and began his descent. Every floor on the building had a window at the exact same place. At two stories down, Elzio paused, gripping the metal frame of the window. He resummoned the rope from his window above and affixed it to the window frame. Then he continued his trek downward. Summoning existing things was boringly simple, but right now he needed easy. What once felt like a mundane chore now felt like a refreshingly straightforward task. It let him use his brain to work through the tangled knot that was his slowly waking mind.

Was he really running away?

Grip, summon, tie, descend.

Yes. He was currently climbing down the side of the citadel as if he were a little child sneaking out of his parents’ house, late at night. His actions had been spurred by a mysterious note that, now that he was more awake, he couldn’t even be sure actually existed. Maybe he’d dreamt it. The night had, after all, been plagued by a series of nightmares that flowed seamlessly into his waking consciousness. Who's to say this wasn’t an extension of that?

It didn’t matter right now, though. Elzio couldn’t get back up the way he’d come, so he had to make it to the ground anyway. From there he could decide if he wanted to continue fleeing or go back inside and confront… Sir Thomas? His own questionable judgment? A no-longer existent piece of paper?

His feet hit the earth with a soft thud, and a cloud of dust briefly obscured his vision as he crouched low against the wall, silty ground muting his drop. He resummoned the rope, and it fell in his hands. While he coiled it around his arm, he considered his path forward.

The train of thought only lasted him about eight seconds as a sudden shudder ran down his spine. For a moment, his eyes unfocused from the world around him, and he was back in his bedroom. His vision was blurred, but he could still detect light as the door opened. He tried to blink, but as he did, a figure leapt from the wall, and electricity wracked the air. A lethal level 6 Lightning Bolt stabbed into his doppelganger.

Snapped back into his body, Elzio didn’t waste another debating himself. He recast the doppel spell at level 2, replacing the previous before it had a chance to disappear. What had been a just-in-case diversion was now the only thing stopping his assailant from rousing the entire city guard to find him. His salvation relied on the doppel’s ability to fool the assassin. It couldn’t vanish, not yet.

The spell cast succeeded, leaving a very dead-looking Elzio copy in his bed.

Elzio turned and ran. It was so dark outside, he could barely see his own feet as he followed his mental map to where he knew the stables were. As he stepped through the soft, rustling hay that littered the stables floor, his fingers trailed over worn wooden posts, thumb stroking the number on each stall, feeling for number thirty two. He could cast Light, but it would be dangerous. The stables were visible from his room. If the assassin was still there, they’d spot him easily.

Finally he traced the three and two that denoted his stall. His horse.

“Ylia,” he said, voice a quiet breath, and he could feel his steed strengthen as his Standard Hero Aura extended to encompass her. His hand found her mane, and he gripped the soft hair, calling up her modified stats.

~

Ylia: Level 3 Steed

Hit Points: 200+100

Speed: 8+4

Strength: 6+5

Endurance: 450+200

Modifiers: None

~

He continued to stroke her as he opened the stall, and shifted his aura from a Standard Heroic Aura to a Stealth Aura.

~

Ylia: Level 3 Steed

Hit Points: 200+50

Speed: 8+6

Strength: 6+2

Endurance: 450+100

Modifiers: Stealth level 1. Sounds are muted by 50%. Colors are darkened to match surroundings.

~

That would do for now.

“Ride fast, ride light,” he whispered as he pulled himself up on her back and tapped her sides, urging her forward. His doppel spell was about to wear off, so he attempted a recast. They needed to believe he was lying dead in his bedroom.

The distance made the spell difficult, however, and his first attempt at a recast fizzled.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow. With a nexus empowering him, he never had to worry about that kind of thing. Spells didn’t fail under Nexus Auras. His mana was flagging, with the aura on Ylia and the constant summons and resummons. He didn’t have another shot here.

Closing his eyes, he focused the spell on the bedroom behind him, far away, in another world. As the seconds ticked away at the doppel’s presence, his eyes snapped open, and he recast the spell.

This time, it had succeeded. The doppel’s body remained unwavering in his bed.

Elzio gave Ylia a firm squeeze with his legs, confident that the copy would keep his enemies confused for a few minutes longer. His eyes darted to his own stats, checking on his dwindling mana pool.

The Summon Mundane Objects had added up. He’d refreshed it dozens of times, not to mention the numerous recasts on the doppel spell. He’d spent nearly his entire pool in the last few minutes.

Again he cursed his lack of a Nexus Aura. On the battlefield, his base regeneration would’ve been enough for him to cast a dozen more spells. Here, he could barely summon rope and a static copy. Despite a lifetime of training, of fighting, of preparing, he’d been ill prepared for this.

In his defense, avoiding assassination was supposed to be difficult, so he shouldn’t be too hard on himself, but he was. He was alone in the world with little mana and a horse. That was it. No allies, no housing, no city, no nexus. The only good news he received, was the small glowing plus sign on his stats.

He’d leveled up casting one of the recent abilities. No wonder Syrene hadn’t let him practice any kind of magic. With Elzio now at level 9, Loreth could barely have afforded to summon all his heroes and the carefully crafted arena Elzio had prepared. He still could, since Elzio had allowed for some wiggle room, but it was closer than it should be.

No, not was closer. Would have been. It would have been closer. It didn’t matter now. That was in the past, he reminded himself, as Ylia galloped through the streets, hooves clomping lightly against the sharp cobble stones. They would not return to Pyrthet, to the citadel where he’d lived since he was a child. Elzio wasn’t sure where they were going, what their plan was, what they’d do. That—along with the level up—could wait until he’d made it out of the city limits. For now, he just needed to focus on escaping.

Just focus. Ride until he was safe, then hide. Those were the only thoughts occupying his mind as he fled. He didn’t level up, didn’t think about a future plan, didn’t even look around for pursuers. He should have, but as Ylia raced through the streets of the city, approaching the outskirts, his thoughts flew from his head as if blown by the rushing wind. The only concern that took form was a worry that the gates, which typically remained open at all times, would have been shut following some order from Sir Thomas. His concern was unfounded, however. The gate was open as always. Sparsely guarded, as always. The one thing to go his way this evening.

Neither of the torchlit guards stopped him, called to him, even asked that he pass an identity test. This wasn’t unusual, but the night was so surreal, Elzio expected at any point, someone to act strangely. That would, somehow, feel more normal.

But no one did, and Ylia sailed through the gates, over the bridge, and into the dead of the night.