BOOK 2

  CHAPTER 14

  Bash the Builder

  The evening after the battle, Bash sat in the Village Hall, looking like a proper Lord.

  His new armor was assembled from the finest spoils of war, and totally not stolen from some dead guy. The leather fit well, and the metal plates all sat in the right place. For once, nothing pinched or chafed.

  In the back of his mind, he knew it wouldn’t last. Maybe a couple of hours or days at best. But for now, it felt nice.

  The hall was packed. Someone had dragged in extra benches. Someone else had raided the food stores. Bread and dried meat covered the main table, alongside mismatched mugs filled with something that smelled like it could strip paint off wood.

  Jack sat near the head of the table, still moving carefully from his wound but refusing to show weakness. Every few minutes, someone would raise a drink in his direction, and he’d nod back solemnly. Nora and Luis flanked Bash on either side. A handful of Beastmasters filled out the remaining seats, their weathered faces flushed with drink and victory.

  And then there was Jason.

  The werewolf representative sat at the far end of the table in human form. Brown fur clothes draped over a frame that was somehow still wolfish even without the fur and fangs. His eyes were yellow. His teeth, when he smiled, were too sharp. He looked like a man wearing a wolf costume from the inside out. A cluster of his pack surrounded him, passing around a wineskin and occasionally breaking into howls that made Bash jump.

  Lilly perched on her usual spot by the window, preening her feathers and occasionally dive-bombing anyone who left food unattended.

  Bash raised his mug. “Alright, alright. Before we all get too drunk to remember. What the hell happened out there after I took my little fall?”

  Lilly ruffled up importantly. “The bad men ran away. Then they ran into the skeleton men. Then everyone died.” She tilted her head. “It was very messy. Lots of red.”

  Cheers around the table. Someone toasted “to messy!”

  Shai materialized beside the map table, filling in the details. “The Londonland forces began their retreat three hours ago after failing to clear the rockslides. They encountered the respawned skeleton marauders at the base of the pass.” She gestured, and glowing lines traced across the map. “The two forces engaged in a prolonged battle. A small group was able to break through and escape, while most were...” She paused. “Massacred.”

  “What about the skeletons?” Jack asked.

  “Mostly destroyed,” Shai answered.

  More cheers. More drinking.

  “That explains the levels I gained,” Bash said slowly. “Also, good to know that the marauders respawn every time I Remort.”

  Jack nodded, studying him. “It should be a while before your next, though, yes? How much time do you think you need?”

  Bash shrugged. This was his second Remort. Only three weeks into the game. “At this rate, two weeks maybe.”

  Jack blanched. “Jesus... How are you leveling so fast?”

  Bash smiled. “Trade secret, my friend.”

  Shai’s voice cut in. “He chose a bunch of shitty skills that don’t do anything, except give him extra experience.”

  Bash whipped around. “Shai, what the hell?!”

  “Oh, sorry.” Her tone was flat. “I forgot. Creative thinking is your domain of expertise. I’m just a toaster. Or a calculator, right?”

  Bash thought fast, using his most brilliant tactic to defuse the situation. “I love you, Shai. Never change.”

  Shai was silent for a moment. Processing. “Yeah, no. You can’t keep getting away with that.” She blinked out of existence.

  Oh man. He was in for it now.

  Nora cleared her throat. “I can talk to her if you want. She doesn’t understand how stupid men are yet. Once she realizes, she’ll go easier on you.”

  The room laughed. Bash suddenly became aware that everyone present had just witnessed that entire exchange. The Beastmasters. Jack. Jason. Luis. All of them were grinning at him. He blushed, but instead of turning back to the map, his eyes landed on Luis.

  The kid practically vibrated in his seat, bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the table. “And what about you, Luis?” Bash pointed at him. “Don’t think I don’t see you squirming over there, ready to wet yourself.”

  Luis shot to his feet so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “Hermano! You should have SEEN it!”

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  Bash leaned back, taking a sip from his mug. “I was a little busy dying. Fill me in.”

  Luis didn’t need any more encouragement.

  “Okay, so, we were in position, right? Just like I planned. Spear line in front!”

  “Like you planned?” Jason’s voice cut in from the end of the table.

  “Like WE planned. Obviously.” Luis waved it off. “Anyway, spear line in front, werewolves on the flanks, everyone’s looking to me for guidance.”

  One of the Beastmaster’s raised his drink. “To guidance!” The others laughed and followed suit.

  Luis pressed on, ears reddening. “The first rockslide went off. Rocks everywhere. I’m thinking ‘perfect, just as I predicted. But then the mages push all the rocks aside like nothing, and everyone’s panicking. But not me. I’m cool. Calm. Collected.”

  “You were shaking so hard I could hear your armor rattling,” one of the werewolves called out.

  “That was battle anticipation. Totally different thing.”

  Bash watched Luis scramble. The disaster unfolding in front of him was somehow the same guy who’d fought beside him against impossible odds. The same guy who’d held a spear line against an army. It was ridiculous. But it was also kind of beautiful.

  Jack leaned forward. “What happened when the big slide triggered?”

  “Oh man.” Luis’s eyes went wide. “This wall of rock comes down. Thousands of tons. Beautiful. Majestic. And then it just... stops. Hangs there in the air.”

  “Combined casting,” Bash added. “Four mages working together.”

  “Right, which I immediately recognized.” Luis cheered.

  Jason snorted. “You said, and I quote. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?”

  Someone banged their mug on the table appreciatively. A few other mugs were raised.

  “I was assessing the situation. Out loud. Verbal processing.” Luis spread his hands. “Leadership technique.”

  Bash thought about that moment. The rocks hanging in the air. The army still marching. From the ridge, he’d felt that same terror. That same certainty that everything was about to go wrong.

  “Anyway, the army’s still coming,” Luis continued, “the trap failed, and everyone’s looking at me for order.”

  “He froze,” Jason interrupted. “I had to bite his ass to get him moving.”

  Luis spun around. “You bit my HIP! Not my ass! Significant anatomical difference!”

  Cheers erupted. Someone started a chant of “hip hip” that dissolved into laughter. Luis waited for it to die down. When he spoke again, his voice was different. Softer.

  “Honestly... I thought it was over. That we were all dead. And then there was this streak of light, and I was like, ‘That’s him! That crazy bastard just killed himself.’”

  The room quieted. A few solemn nods.

  Bash felt the shift in his chest. He’d been so focused on the mages, he hadn’t thought about what it must have looked like from below.

  “Then! BOOM!” Luis slammed his fist into his palm, breaking the moment. “Mages gone. Spell breaks. Rocks fall. I immediately seized the opportunity.”

  “After I howled and the pack charged,” Jason added.

  “We charged TOGETHER. Great minds.”

  Jack was smiling now. “And the fight itself?”

  Luis puffed up his chest. “I was like a machine! Cutting through them left and right. Couldn’t touch me!”

  “He tripped over a corpse in the first ten seconds,” a Beastmaster said.

  “And rolled through a mud puddle!” Another added.

  “Tactical mud camouflage.” Luis countered.

  A werewolf raised his mug. “To tactical mud!” Everyone drank.

  “Back to the battle, how many did you get?” Bash asked.

  Luis drew himself up. “Fifteen. Maybe twenty.”

  Dead silence.

  “One,” Jason said flatly. “He got one.”

  The room exploded. Mugs slammed on tables. Someone applauded sarcastically.

  “One CONFIRMED,” Luis corrected, fighting a grin. “Could have been more. Hard to keep track when you are in the zone.”

  “What then?” Jack asked.

  “Oh, that was all me.” Luis straightened up. “I looked at their commander and said. Surrender now or face my wrath.”

  “The commander was dead,” Jason said. “Crushed under the rockslide.”

  “Because of MY strategic positioning.”

  A Beastmaster raised his mug. “To strategy!” Everyone drank.

  Jason leaned back, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost its mocking edge. “The truth is that you did well. You held the line. You didn’t run. When the moment came, you fought.” His yellow eyes glinted. “Even if you did scream the entire time.”

  Bash stood and walked over to Luis, grabbing his hand and thrusting it into the air. “To our Champion!”

  The room erupted. Mugs banged on tables. Hands clapped. The werewolves howled.

  Bash leaned close so only Luis could hear. “I’m proud of you, brother. Even if your story is ninety percent bullshit.”

  Luis grinned. “Fifty percent. Maximum.”

  The celebration continued for another hour, maybe two. Bash lost track. The mugs kept getting refilled, and the stories kept getting taller, and somewhere along the way Lilly fell asleep on the windowsill with her head tucked under her wing.

  But eventually the energy faded. People drifted off in ones and twos, stumbling toward bed or watch duty. The laughter grew sparse. The silences grew longer. By the time full dark had settled outside the windows, only the inner circle remained around the table, and the mood had shifted to something quieter.

  Bash set down his empty mug. “Before I leave, we need to put things in motion.”

  Grumbling from the remaining Beastmasters. A low growl from some of the werewolves.

  Jack raised his hand for silence. “We knew this was coming. We knew Lord Bash couldn’t achieve his larger goals by staying here forever.”

  Reluctant nods around the table.

  Bash felt something tighten in his chest. These people actually wanted him to stay. Part of him wanted to stay too. But he remembered Patrick. Their plan. The long talks at night around the campfire.

  He couldn’t stay. Maximus’s lieutenants weren’t going to kill themselves. And before he left, he needed to make sure the village could survive without him.

  “Jason.” Bash turned to face the werewolf. “If you and your pack pledge your contracts to me, I’ll transfer them to Jack along with twenty of my own. Anyone else who wants to pledge can do the same. Then I’ll assign the village to Jack officially. He’ll be lord here when I’m gone.”

  Jason’s yellow eyes studied him for a long moment. The silence stretched.

  Then he nodded. “The pack agrees. You have proven yourself worthy of our trust.”

  “Good.” Bash held up a hand. “But before any of that, I have one last gift.”

  He opened his menu and navigated to the construction tab. One by one, he queued every building for upgrade.

  [Village Hall → Town Hall: 0% Progress]

  [Medicine Hut → Clinic: 0% Progress]

  [Training Grounds → Barracks: 0% Progress]

  Around the table, everyone’s eyes went glassy. That distant look of reading system notifications.

  Jack was the first to recover. He stared at Bash. “How?”

  “I took a skill called Builder. Let’s me queue buildings one level above our settlement rank.”

  Shai reappeared beside him, arms crossed. “I calculated the impact, since apparently that’s all I’m good for.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Survival chances increase by nearly four times.”

  The Beastmasters rose to their feet. Jack pushed himself up from his chair, wincing but determined. Jason stood as well, his human form somehow more imposing than it had been a moment before.

  They spoke in unison. “Hail, Bash!”

  Bash raised both hands. “No. Please no.”

  “Hail, Bash!” Louder this time.

  Luis joined in, grinning like an idiot. “Hail, Bash!”

  Even Nora. She shoulder-bumped him, caught his eye, and mouthed the words with a smirk. “Hail, Bash.”

  Oh god. Not them too.