Anzu turned on his stool, giving the drunken Sage an annoyed look. The staff prodded his back again with the insistence of a child poking at an anthill.

  For a moment, he considered telling the Sage off, putting him in his place with a few sharp words. But the thought died quickly. As an Archsage, disguised or not, he held a position that demanded a rise above petty irritations. Especially the likes caused by drunks in brothels.

  "Look, I'm really not interested. Thanks."

  He took care to sound dismissive, with a touch of politeness, but never hostile.

  The Sage deflated with an obvious sigh, like that of a child, which led him to shuffle back toward his table with slumped shoulders.

  Anzu turned back to the bar, but the interaction lingered in his thoughts. Maybe he was too quick to judge.

  Things were straightforward for him now, up to a point. His perspective, which largely came from his power and experience in this world, gave him a clarity that others simply didn't have. But also injected him with a healthy dose of cynicism.

  A level seventy adventurer was different. They still had to face the grind of leveling, getting the right gear, and, at [Level 100], carving out a name for themselves.

  Perhaps the drunk really did want to duel for instructional purposes. Comparing fighting techniques and defense styles could be of real value. Hell, if someone had offered him that kind of opportunity back at that level, he might have taken it.

  Maybe he was genuinely too cynical. Partly to blame might be the Anni in him. The years of corporate micro-management and toxic eruptions from self-centered managers, all of which he had to endure as a software engineer, never did anything good for his faith in fellow humans.

  The door of the establishment opened, and rain-damp air swept in, along with a new arrival. A dwarf warrior, stocky and broad-shouldered, made his way to the bar. He settled onto a stool three places down from Anzu, shaking water from his beard.

  "Date ale, please."

  Anzu studied him from the side. He must've been [level 20 - 30], he estimated. It was the gear that gave it away: basic bronze plate, worn leather straps, no visible embellishments or enchantments, or dungeon markings etched into armor or weapons. He was fresh, or at least still in the early stages of his grind.

  The bartender slid a clay cup across the counter. The dwarf grabbed it, lifting it to his lips to drink when:

  "Hello, friend!"

  The drunken Sage popped up beside the dwarf, leaning heavily on his staff for balance.

  "Did you know they have a dueling ring here? Look."

  He pointed toward the far corner of the room where a slightly raised platform stood, surrounded by a wooden fence. It was a proper little arena, compact but functional.

  The dwarf glanced over, and a spark of interest flickered across his bearded face.

  "Oh, yeah. Nice. I've seen these before. They're pretty cool for a fight."

  The Sage's face lit up as it split into a wide grin.

  "Come on, wanna duel?"

  The dwarf hesitated, giving the Sage an appraising look.

  "Hm, sorry. It doesn't seem like a very good idea to me. You're obviously much higher level."

  "Oh, but that's for your benefit!" The Sage leaned in, gushing enthusiasm. "You'll learn so much from me! Come on, I'll show you a few tricks for defending against elemental damage."

  The dwarf considered it with eyes narrowing in thought. Then he shrugged and set his cup down.

  "Well, now that you put it like that, sure. Let's have a go."

  Both men moved toward the ring, drawing curious glances from nearby patrons.

  Anzu turned back to the bar, pulling his hood lower over his face. He hunched forward slightly and fixed his gaze on the scarred wooden counter. But with a corner of his eye, he tracked the activity as both fighters climbed into the ring.

  Maybe he'd been wrong after all. Maybe this fight would be instructive. Either way, he kept watching, at least from the side.

  The dwarf positioned himself in one corner of the ring, with his shield and weapon drawn, steadying himself for balance. The drunken Sage swayed into the opposite corner and lifted his clumsily with his right hand.

  "You ready?"

  The dwarf nodded and banged the shield with his sword.

  "Yep, let's go."

  His boots thudded against the wooden platform as he rushed in. The Sage, in turn, performed a movement with his staff as arcane syllables spilled from his lips. His voice cracked halfway through the incantation.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Anzu's jaw tightened as he recognized the casting pattern and wording in Sumerian. The Sage was casting [Vicious singe], a tier 7 elemental spell that was typically used in cases where damage had to be maximized as quickly as possible, draining much of the caster's mana. The damage was way too high for a [level 30], even if you constrained your mana channeling.

  Streaks of flame coalesced around the sage's staff's tip and immediately shot forward in a concentrated torrent, slamming into the dwarf's chest with a sound like cracking timber. The impact lifted him off his feet, pushing him backward and crashing into the wooden fence. The barrier caught him, absorbing the momentum, and then dropped him in a heap on the platform.

  He didn't move, but he was only incapacitated. Thankfully.

  The Sage doubled over as laughter erupted from his throat in waves of drunken braying. He pointed at the incapacitated dwarf with shaking shoulders.

  "Did you see that?"

  He laughed even more, in a manner only a drunk would, then dropped his staff, clutching his stomach as the fit consumed him.

  Anzu's face was angled toward the counter as he sat motionless at the bar. A corner of his eye caught every detail: the cruel mirth, the scattered snickers from the crowd, and the dwarf's incapacitated, prone form.

  So his initial instinct had been correct after all. No instruction. No benefit. It was just bullying dressed up in the language of mentorship. It was a performance for an audience, meant to intimidate anyone weaker.

  He knew the type well, and simply put, it was scum. The dregs of society dressed up in kindness. And more often than not, they were never taught a lesson. But that was something he could change now.

  Anzu turned on his stool, reaching up to push his hood back just enough to expose his eyes.

  "Okay, master Sage. I'll duel you."

  The drunk Sage's head snapped around, and delight spread across his flushed face. He laughed, waving one hand expansively.

  "Ooh, yeah! The more the merrier, eh?"

  Anzu held his stare, without blinking.

  The Sage then frowned and tilted his head, looking at Anzu.

  "Well, are you coming over here or not, Sagey?"

  "No, I'm not."

  Anzu lifted his left fist, turning the [Clay spewer] in the direction of the ring. His staff remained wedged between his knees, as there was no need to stand for this.

  He extended his arm a little further, angling the ring toward the Sage, and whispered the incantation for [Telekinetic dart], a tier 10 spell.

  "Dub-dub-bu."

  The emerald-green cuneiform inscribed along the ring flared to life. A small, semi-transparent ray shot forward, moving faster than thought.

  It struck the Sage square in the chest, lifted him off his feet, as his mouth gaped in shock, and hurtled him backward across the room. His body slammed into the far wall with a meaty thud. His health bar plummeted, stopping just short of empty as he crumpled to the floor.

  He was incapacitated, but alive. Just like the dwarf.

  Silence swept the room.

  Anzu turned his head to scan the faces around him. Every patron stared as if frozen, mid-drink and mid-conversation.

  The moment his gaze swept over them, they looked away. Hands busied themselves with cups, and conversations resumed back to normality.

  Pulling his hood back down and turning to face the bar, he let shadows swallow his facial features once more.

  "Well, I think that was called for," Itani leaned closer, voice dropping to an excited whisper. "It was amazing!"

  Anzu shrugged, fingers curling around his staff.

  "A necessity. Somebody needs to keep the likes of him in check."

  The scantily clad dark elf woman reappeared beside them, her voice cutting through the low murmur of the tavern.

  "Shikku will see you now."

  Itani straightened on her stool.

  "Great. Up the stairs and to the left, right?"

  The woman nodded once, already turning toward another customer who was pushing through the entrance.

  Anzu slid off his stool and followed Itani toward the back of the room. As they climbed a narrow staircase, wooden treads groaned beneath their boots.

  Anzu glanced sideways at her.

  "You seem to know your way around here."

  Itani sighed and hunched her shoulders forward.

  "Yeah. I wish I didn't, though."

  They reached the landing and turned left. The corridor opened before them, dimly lit by oil lamps bracketed to the walls. At the end stood a lavishly decorated door. Every inch of it was covered in ornamental stucco, and each piece bore a different color: bright yellows, deep purples, and oranges that clashed with greens. The effect resembled a craft project executed by a person with unlimited funds and zero taste.

  Itani raised her fist and knocked.

  "Come!"

  The voice that cut through the wood was fairly high-pitched and nasal. Itani pushed the door open and stepped inside. Anzu followed, taking in the room at a glance.

  A dark elf sat behind a large desk with his fingers laced together on the polished surface. The same distasteful decorations cluttered every available space. There were painted stucco figurines as well as mismatched vases. It was wealth displayed without any discretion.

  The elf's face split into a wide smile.

  "Itani, my girl! How wonderful to see you. And you've brought a friend, I see."

  He gestured toward two chairs positioned before the desk.

  "Please, sit."

  As Anzu lowered himself into the chair, he scanned the room with his eyes. In the corner stood a mannequin wearing ranger leather armor of decent quality, but nothing exceptional. It was [Level 40] gear, at best, with basic enchantments. It didn't show many signs of wear, though.

  His gaze shifted back to the man behind the desk. He was balding, with a ring of dark hair clinging stubbornly to the sides and back of his skull, while his belly pressed against the edge of the desk, stretching the fabric of his tunic. No active Ranger carried that kind of weight. They'd never fit into the armor that was gathering dust on the mannequin. He truly had traded adventuring for business.

  Itani leaned forward in her chair.

  "So, Shikku, I have a question for you."

  Shikku lifted his head slightly, inviting her to continue.

  "You know the caravan you're running? The one with the new animals, the horses?"

  Interest sparked in Shikku's eyes.

  "We would desperately need two tickets for the earliest departure down South."

  Shikku's smile widened.

  "Ahh, the wonderful new caravans, yes. I have one going down south this very morning, as it happens."

  Anzu pulled his hood back enough to see properly.

  "We need to go to Larsa, though."

  Shikku waved one hand dismissively.

  "Well, of course. It goes all the way to Ur, and it stops at Larsa on the way."

  Itani exhaled audibly, and the tension in her shoulders eased. Maybe she shouldn't have done that in front of this man.

  "That's perfect! How much for two tickets?"

  Shikku stretched his arms overhead, then rested both of them behind his head. As he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaked beneath the shift in weight.

  "Well, my dear girl, these illicit caravans are very much in demand, you know. Tickets are hard to get. And expensive."

  Itani rolled her eyes.

  "Okay, but how much for two tickets?"

  Shikku's smile stretched wider, exposing golden fillings in the lamplight.

  "Well, the thing is, my dear girl, I'm not sure I even sell them this close to the departure time."

  He stretched again, extending his arms theatrically.

  "There is something you and your friend could help me with, and then... I might be able to get the tickets for you."

  Itani shot to her feet, pushing the chair backwards across the floor.

  "No, Shikku! No! Not now or ever again am I helping you with that!"