3rd Day, Season of Death,

872nd Year of Balkor’s Betrayal,

The Year Before Theo’s Arrival on Iaredin.

The road between Broken Tusk and Rivers and Daub could be daunting, even treacherous at times. Luras shouldered his pack, grunting as he rose back to his feet. The day was cool, with a pleasant breeze blowing from the north and the sun shining overhead. Although a storm had whipped through the region a week back, the roads had since dried out, making travel possible. With a firm smack on his back, Aarok took the lead and trudged forward.

“The Irregulars don’t rest,” Aarok said, a wide grin painting his face.

“These Irregulars don’t get paid, either.”

“Just think of that sweet Rivers mead.”

Luras could think of nothing else. Whatever profit he would make selling the materials he had gathered would be minimal, as it always was. A few Monster Cores, spare hides, and crude leather goods he had sewn together himself filled both his and Aarok’s bag. If they were lucky, they’d find a few monsters along the arduous journey. The reward was enough money to keep things going for a while, and a few too many mugs of the delicious mead.

“Miana is in a foul mood lately,” Aarok said. “You’d think the king himself had been along to crap in her bed.”

“Do kings often crap in beds?” Luras asked.

“That’s an expression.”

“I haven’t heard it.”

Aarok delivered a swift punch to Luras’s arm and laughed. “Anyway, this isn’t her normal horrible mood. There’s something different about it.”

Luras paid no attention to Miana’s mood. He didn’t like her. Almost no one liked her, and more than a few members of Broken Tusk outright hated her. As a mayor, she was easily the worst. The Southlands was considered the least-producing area in the kingdom and it was hard to imagine why Qavell hadn’t intervened. But this was nothing new. This was the legacy of the union between the half-ogres and marshlings.

Yet Gronro and Rivers still refuse to unite. Curious how we keep ourselves down this way.

“Stop sulking,” Aarok ordered. “We’re on a march, soldier.”

Luras barked a laugh, offering a snappy salute. “Yes, sir.”

The walk today would be pleasant. Luras knew it. With a clear sky, decent temperature, and some extremely funny banter with Aarok, it was bound to be a great day.

“Get a look at this guy,” Aarok said, shoving Luras playfully.

Up ahead, trudging along on the road on short legs, was a man. Luras thought it was a man, but he had never seen someone from such a pudgy, diminutive race. He wore threadbare robes, guiding his steps with a staff as he peaked out from under a floppy, pointed hat. Barring the way, the tiny man held his arms wide.

“Pardon me, good sirs!” he shouted, gesturing widely with his staff. “Could I get some directions?”

Aarok’s eyes narrowed. “We normally introduce ourselves. Especially on the road. Brigands and all that.”

“My apologies,” the man said, performing a sweeping bow. Luras was certain his nose had touched the ground. “The name is Howd.”

“As in… How’d a man with such short legs make it this far into the Southlands without collapsing?” Aarok asked. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from giggling.

“Exactly! May I have your names, if the local tradition is to give one’s name in kind?”

“Luras and Aarok,” Luras said, gesturing between himself and his companion.

“And there it is! We’re all friends now, so… am I going in the right direction?”

“Depends on which direction that is,” Luras said. “North gets you to Rivers and Gronro. West is mountains, south is Broken Tusk, and east is a whole lot of nothing.”

“Ah! Broken Tusk! That’s the one… I think,” Howd said, scratching his chin. When he did so, his chubby cheeks wobbled. “Well, it has been a pleasure!”

Aarok and Luras watched as the man went. They stood there for a long while, blinking away their confusion before they continued down the path. The little guy vanished into the distance before long, seemingly annoyed with something as he cursed.

“Stupid system!” Howd shouted, swatting away at the messages that just wouldn’t leave. Ever since he had arrived on Iaredin, they had hounded him. But a keen insider tip told him to ignore them, instead accepting the consolation prize of a temporary core and a whole crapload of attributes. He cleared his throat, tempering his frustration. He swatted the message away once again, but it just popped up again.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelBin for the genuine story.

[System Merge]

You’re using an outdated version of the M-200 system (M-100). Your attributes have been adjusted to reflect the progress you made before the advancement of the M-100 to the M-200 system during the migration. Accepting the change will provide you with the following:

Legendary to Mythic cores,

Legendary to Mythic abilities,

Increase to base attributes,

Increase to depth and breadth of soul,

Potential access to artifact-quality items in recognition of service (War of the Shards)

“A tempting flower I must resist the urge to sniff,” Howd said, humming a lively song. “Assuming Ivaran is right, anyway. Snot-nosed little prick… Yeah, we get it. Your wife is dead. I NEVER HAD A WIFE.”

It was a good thing the road was empty. Howd’s words went unheard by anyone, which was hardly a comfort. Sometimes a bit of attention was nice.

The world’s magic looked as though someone had put it together with bubblegum and prayers. Howd shook his head every time he observed any facet of it, lamenting the poor condition of the smallest weave to the most complex array. When he had first visited from Earth, 60,000 years ago by the local standard and some smattering of years by his own recollection, the System was in a state of harmony. Now, the whole thing was so badly tangled and he had to wonder how anything was held together.

Extending a hand, he poked at a dormant thread, infusing it with his magic and chuckling as it vibrated. Each piece was wound so tightly, he wasn’t sure if strumming those pieces would cause the entire thing to snap. Also, the local ‘gods’ were getting kinda pissed off. Which made Howd laugh.

“Just try to do something, ya little jerks. No one’s better at thumbing their nose at the System.”

Howd made his way to the local town, staying on the outskirts as he mapped out the local field. One thing hadn’t changed from the old system, and it really needed a patch. After disabling the alarm that should have informed some fake god about some poor future Earthling’s arrival, he poisoned a few other arrays until a nosy god turned their stupid schnoz in his direction. After shaking his fist at the sky, Howd departed from the small town via the sea.

The local authorities took notice of teleportation, but surfing across the sea with magic was totally cool. Flying magic was a gray area he wouldn’t push for now.

“Just a few more bloops to bleep,” Howd said, catching a sick wave. “Then we’re golden!”

***

Miana wiped sweat from her brow, looking up at the cursed night’s sky. From what she understood, the stars had lined correctly. They were in position for one to fall from the heavens, finally gracing Broken Tusk in whatever horrid way it would. This was a tide she had fought against her entire life. Yet she had never found a place to root herself. It was only the unending tide and her inability to fight against it.

What could one person do against such powerful external forces?

“All lined up, then?” the familiar, grating voice cut through the night’s air.

The Season of Blooms had already come, ushering in the 873rd year of Balkor’s Betrayal. “I hate you,” Miana growled, looking back to the sky. In those stars, there were promises. “Can I have my slots back?”

“Don’t look at me.” Howd strode from the shadows, pushing his pudgy belly out as he stretched. “I’m not a part of that plan. Wouldn’t do something so cruel.”

“Yet your master would, which speaks a lot about you.”

Pointing with a single finger, Howd shook his head. “That part of the plan is more complicated than you think. But I’m sure you’ll get all kinds of fun stuff for your part. We’ve got some fertile ground here.”

Miana grunted, finally resorting to dabbing her forehead with a cloth. It might’ve been a cooler season than Fire, but she was sweating as though she were standing in the open sun on the hottest day. The ‘fertile ground’ he spoke of was Broken Tusk. Why this place was beyond her, but it was too late to care. Everyone was lined up, ready for the celestial game to begin.

“Awfully silent tonight,” Howd said, coming alongside her and peering out into the marsh. “I used to live in the city. At first, silence like this bothered me. I always wanted to hear the sounds of the city outside my window. Sirens, talking, screaming… I had a lot of trouble when I first got here.”

“Is there a point?”

“Right now, your head is noisy. The people in Broken Tusk aren’t living the high life, but they’re safe and fed. You’re dirt poor, but happy.” Howd let the words hang in the air for an uncomfortably long time.

Miana could feel that he wanted her to jump at the bait, but she refused. She was too tired. She simply couldn’t see a life where her head wasn’t swimming with the ‘noise’ he talked about. Because, of course, he was right. There wasn’t a moment in her life where Miana’s mind wasn’t screaming at her. Get out of Broken Tusk. Cross the sea. Place this burden on someone else. It was almost too much for her to endure.

“In Karasan’s grand plan, he requires one thing. Silent towns who don’t cause a fuss. He doesn’t care if your town produces nothing, because he doesn’t need anything other than a string of towns. Anything he tells you otherwise is theater.”

Miana released a sigh. For a moment, she thought her anxious nature would calm for a moment. Then the noise came again. “Please.”

Howd looked up at her, his dark eyes glittering in the night. She could barely see them under that stupid floppy hat of his. “If you grew this town like you wanted, you’d all be dead. The funny thing about finding system loopholes is you need to jump through some pretty unintuitive hoops. I might just be here on the back end of this journey, but I can tell you from experience… It isn’t easy.”

“You can squawk about the betterment of the world all day, and I’ll still hate you.”

“Why not? I am a very despicable man.” Howd giggled to himself before going silent. “Unfortunately, we won’t see each other for a very long time after this. Once I crack this seal, I’ll have to go take a little nap.”

Miana might’ve been a lot of things, but she wasn’t without pity. She felt a twinge in her heart for the man, knowing deep down that he was doing something necessary. She knew about sacrifice and she could feel it plainly in his voice. But she didn’t jump to his defense. If anything, she coiled back in on herself. She returned to the comfortable defensive curl she had known her whole life.

“How dreadful.”

“Oh, you’ve just got a heart of stone!” Howd shouted, soon falling once again into a fit of laughter. “That’s why I like you, Miana. You’re cool in my book.”

The pair remained there in the moonlight for some time. Miana’s eyes dragged over the landscape, sweat dripping down her forehead. She almost jumped when Howd pressed his head against her side, the oversized melon of a thing digging into her hip uncomfortably. But as they stood there, swaying with the breeze and feeling the bristling energy of something approaching, the sounds muted. The voices of doubt that screamed at her day and night went silent.

For a moment, Miana took pride in what she had done. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be seen as the least-productive town in the Kingdom of Qavell. No one in town knew it besides her. But something was coming. Something that would shape the course of the entire world.