It was cold, but after Jeremy's trek through the ice fields to find the treasure and his encounter with the ice dragon, the cold section of the fourth floor was nothing. He couldn't see the monster bear because he was wearing a blindfold to improve his mana sight, but thanks to his superior, dragon-aided mana sense, he could sense the truck-sized monster bear as well, or better, blindfolded than he could have without it before.

  Because Jeremy made no attempt to hide, the bear spotted him, roared, and charged. Jeremy combined his high-level fireball spell with lightning; both spells built up inside him. When the massive bear was almost on him, he released the spells with a deafening crack and roar of flame that momentarily warmed the surrounding air, melting the snow and sending the huge bear flying backward. It fell twitching onto the melting snow and didn't get up again.

  Jeremy removed his blindfold and started laughing. Using the two spells together had drained his mana, but combined, they did a lot of damage. When a wolf monster attacked from behind, he didn't even turn around. He jumped in the air, avoiding the wolf's mouth and teeth, flipped over, and landed on the wolf's back. His fists connected with the wolf's head hard enough to hurt his fists while breaking its skull with a satisfying crunch. The wolf went down.

  Hours after he'd gained the gift of the Dragon Queen, he'd reached Enhance Physical: 5; in another ten days, he reached Enhance Physical: 6. His physical limitations had vanished, and someday he might even surpass Enhance Physical: 10, considered the peak of passive skill development.

  In the distance, Jeremy sensed Squeak draining the life of another dungeon monster, recovering all the essence it had lost and then some.

  “I believe we're almost out of monsters,” Flint said from behind him. “If we don't leave soon, the dungeon will evict us.”

  “I was thinking the same,” Jeremy said. “But there is one more thing I wish to do before we leave.” He pulled out the skill book.

  “The Child's Way of the Sand Monarch. Journeyman.”

  “I've been saving this skill book for when I'd gotten used to the Dragon Queen's gift.”

  After retreating to a safe room, he opened the book. His mind once again became overwhelmed with impressions and memories.

  ***

  Anda stood with the others in the amphitheater, facing the 50 highborn warriors on the other side of the arena, surrounded by an audience of every able-bodied man, woman, and child in the city. All of whom expected the lowborn to be crushed in the upcoming fight.

  “I have a plan,” Anda told the others. “You'll know if it works. I'm your weakest fighter, so if I fail, you're no worse off.”

  He ran forward until he was halfway between his people and the highborn. He threw back his head and shouted. “Assp spoke to me!” He pointed at the highborn fighters. “He said you were weak! I challenge your leader to single combat!”

  Silence fell upon the vast audience.

  The highborn warriors started laughing. Bramf, the highborn leader, looked over at Anda's group. “Is this your champion?” he shouted. “This is the one you've chosen to defend lowborn honor?”

  “He is the best of us!” Egidan shouted back, shooting Anda a questioning (what in Assp's name are you doing?) look, to which Anda gave no response. “He is the pride of the lowborn! Go, Anda! Defend our honor!”

  Instead of stepping forward himself, Bramf motioned to his smallest highborn warrior. “Go, Tanif. Get your slave.”

  Tanif ran forward, a club in one hand and a slave collar in the other, stopping a few paces away from Anda.

  Anda remained still as Tanif sized him up. Though small for his age, the older, highborn warrior towered over Anda.

  Tanif swung his club at Anda's legs. Anda jumped back, avoiding the club with ease.

  Many things clicked in Anda's mind. What he'd glimpsed of the highborn training had looked almost staged. They seemed to kill larger monsters, but the lowborn never saw them actually kill the monsters. Also, with monsters, size meant less than one might think. The highborn held large weights as if they were light, because the highborn's weights were light compared to the lowborn's.

  The special food and punishments the highborn refused, those were the secret Sand Monarch training techniques! Tanif should have easily been a match for Anda, but his attacks were slow and weak.

  The lowborn training had been a joke, yes, but the joke was on the highborn!

  Tanif pressed forward, swinging and jabbing at Anda again and again. Anda dodged him easily. There was laughter from the audience, and Tanif looked exasperated. “Come here and fight!”

  Instead, Anda backed away and pretended to stumble, kneeling to regain his balance. None of his people would have fallen for such an obvious ruse, but Tanif rushed forward and swung his club down at Anda's back, a blow that would have ended their fight—if it had landed. But Anda pushed forward under the club and grabbed Tanif by his arm and inner thigh with a grip tight enough to make the larger boy cry out. Anda picked the boy up and slammed him brutally against the ground.

  Tanif found himself on the ground, looking disbelievingly up at Anda, who now held his club.

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  Anda swung the club at the older boy's helmeted head with all his strength. The club snapped in half and left a big dent in Tanif's helmet. The older highborn boy spasmed and stopped moving.

  Anda raised the broken club in the air, turned to the lowborn audience, and shouted. “THEY'RE WEAK!”

  A long moment of shocked silence from the audience as what had happened sank in.

  “Get him!” Bramf shouted.

  Throwing knives flew through the air and would have hurt the unarmored Anda, but they flew so slowly he dodged them without thinking about it.

  Forty-nine highborn warriors surrounded him and attacked. Though they were slower and weaker, Anda had no chance against so many. He was quickly overwhelmed, thrown to the ground, kicked and beaten. But it didn't matter. The lowborn had won.

  The audience would see forty-nine highborn warriors fighting the smallest, weakest of the lowborn trainees—proof that the highborn were weak, and Assp hated weakness.

  Anda's last thoughts were that the roar and thunderous booms he heard were not his heartbeat. It was the audience cheering and stomping their feet.

  ***

  Anda returned to consciousness, surprised that he was still alive. People were arguing. “Healer. You're a piece of bamfbam dung, and your continued existence is an insult to this city!” That was Tesdis, one of their trainees. “You will heal Anda now, or I will tear out your entrails and feed them to you!”

  “My healing order forbids the healing of slaves,” the frightened healer squeaked, “but if you remove his slave collar, I'll heal him immediately.”

  Anda felt movement around his neck and a click from the release of the slave collar. He opened his eyes to see the one-eyed thief putting the bloody collar around the healer's neck. “It looks better on you.”

  Tesdis patted the healer's shoulder. “If he dies, you die—painfully.”

  “My patients do not die,” the old healer said indignantly.

  “You captured the highborn healer?” Anda forced himself to stand, wondering why he felt so weak and dizzy before realizing he'd been lying in a pool of his own blood. Chaos surrounded him. Dead and broken bodies of highborn warriors littered the arena. Five highborn fighters surrounded Egidan, who looked fine, but the highborn fighters' movements were slow and shaky from exhaustion. They were the only highborn group standing, still led by their leader, Bramf. A highborn warrior threw his spear at Egidan's back. Egidan somehow felt the spear coming, grabbed the spear from the air before it hit him, and hurled it at another highborn so hard it went through the boy's armor. Egidan stepped forward and backhanded the wounded boy, who fell and stopped moving.

  It would seem Egidan had the situation well in hand.

  The audience had gone berserk. He saw a woman holding a detached head... Was that of the highborn referee? The amphitheater booths, where the highborn watched the shows, were in flames.

  A foul-tasting liquid was shoved into Anda's mouth. It was from the healer. “You need to lie down, young lord. You're bleeding.”

  An arrow came flying at the group. The one-eyed thief snatched it out of the air as if it were nothing.

  “I'm fine,” Anda said.

  “You are not fine!” Tesdis snapped. “We worked hard to kidnap this healer for you. Sit back down and let him work!”

  Suddenly, his sister, Stitka, was next to him, making soothing noises and pulling him down to the floor. He realized they'd bound the worst of his wounds with strips of their own clothing, but he was still bleeding. “Healers only heal the strong,” he said. Was this really happening? As the healer went to work, he felt a warmth in his belly, and his aches and pains faded.

  “Why didn't you tell us Assp spoke to you?” his sister Stitka said, in an awed voice. “You showed us that the strength of this city is in the lowborn. The Order of the Sand Monarch has joined the lowborn in rooting out and destroying the highborn rot infecting our city.”

  From the crowd, there came a bloodthirsty roar. He wondered what they were doing. “That takes care of Bramf,” said the one-eyed thief. “Egidan sure took long enough. Lazy bastard.”

  “I don't see you doing anything,” Tesdis said.

  “I'm watching his stuff,” the thief responded. “Very important job.”

  “Why can't the weak and strong be friends?” Anda asked.

  “As soon as I finish with these wounds, I will work on his head trauma,” said the healer.

  “He's always saying things like that,” his sister, Stitka, responded. “Perhaps someone dropped him as a baby?”

  “Strange child,” the healer said. “It is the nature of the weak to resent the strong; there can be no true friendship between the two groups.”

  “But you are a healer,” Anda said. “How strong are you?”

  “A healer's strength comes from healing the strong, allowing them to do great things,” the old man responded.

  “And you have spent your entire life healing the weak!” Tesdis snapped.

  “I didn't know,” the healer said in a small voice.

  “If you heal my brother, I will forgive you,” Stitka said.

  “I do not deserve such forgiveness.”

  Anda faded out of consciousness.

  When he awoke, his bloody uniform was gone, and he was feeling much better. Somebody had moved him to a cot and provided him with a cloak for warmth. His wounds had healed, leaving only thin scars. A uniform rested next to him. It was like his old uniform, but in a lighter gray and made from finer cloth that felt good on his skin. Aside from being starving, he was fine. He laughed. The lowborn trainees had successfully protected their own. They'd passed the test to become initiates of the order.

  The Strongest appeared next to him. “Initiate Anda, did you have a good nap?”

  How did The Strongest do that?

  He stood at attention. “Yes, Most Revered Strongest, I did.” A memory went through Anda's mind. He'd been ten years old when a distinguished old man had come to his province and asked to examine the lowborn children, claiming that Assp had sent him on a quest for knowledge. The adults had been dubious, but had allowed it. The man had poked and prodded Anda and asked a few questions about prior injuries. Then he'd left.

  “It was you who chose the lowborn trainees!” Anda stared at the man in astonishment.

  “Who else would it be?”