World: MSS - Loading....

  When I left Clover’s tent, I found myself in Arione’s side of the camp. Most of the adventuring parties had staked out small pockets of territory within the camp but not too far from each other. It was just enough distance to have space for your party, but close enough to spy on others and be spied upon in turn. Also it was just within convenient reach so that if there was a monster attack, you could stand at the ready and form up. Typical adventurer behavior, always wary of one another but still willing to collaborate on certain things.

  But to me, who chose to camp too far out from anyone else to be of any use in a potential attack, conveniently spied on or spy on others, it felt a bit too crowded. Out of all the adventurers, my party’s tents were the furthest away and I did draw some strange looks from the adventurers and priests running around. Most of them probably wondered why I came out of Clover’s tent. But it was passing interest at best, everyone had bigger things on their minds.

  Like moths drawn to a flame, everyone was running towards the boats.

  “Run! To the Boats!”

  “Water! Water!”

  “Damn it! Orcs?! Here?! What’s happening!”

  My plan was simple. Damage the ships to delay our departure. Make Zenom and the other adventurers desperate. Then I’d show up with the Dwarves and they’d be welcomed with open arms. The dwarves wouldn’t be ‘captives’, they’d be ‘saviors’. The key word here being ‘damage’ to the ships.

  The great black pillars of smoke were wide enough to cover the skies, turning the grayish-air of this ashen island even blacker.

  And with the weight settling in my chest-cavity, I ran towards the shore with the others.

  Skaris had outdone himself.

  If you’ve seen boats, you know how hard it is to actually set one on fire. First of all, they’re leak-proof and wet-proof; which came with the territory of being boats. Second, the whole thing is on water. Third, they’re big.

  We sailed across the MSS ocean on ships that were larger than barges, galleons with masts that sounded like thunder when the wind hit them with full force. Great big planks of wood that rivaled the height of three-story buildings and then some. Everything put together with meticulous precision that only a boatwright and a shipmaker with years of experience and neurosis could dream of. A ship designed to house hundreds of people, in charge of their meals, toiletry, socials and more.

  Now take that and add in the fact that I’m in the world of MSS. A world crawling with monsters; monsters larger than life itself. Especially in the sea where the deep waters were cover enough. Apex predators on land were nothing but a midday snack to those in the ocean. The depths of the MSS oceans knew no end and the monsters that ruled it had no rivals except one of their own. These ships were designed to withstand a blow, or two, from all but the strongest of them.

  In effect, adventurer ships were like cruise ships from the real world, equipped to take adventurers around the globe in search of monsters.

  The sheer size of the thing was enough to catch one’s breath in their throat at first glance.

  And there were dozens of them.

  Skaris had set every single one of them on fire.

  Every. Single. One.

  It was another thing to take pride in Skaris’ flame, especially considering that his entire build was my brainchild.

  It was another to look at the destruction it had brought.

  Skaris, like me, an adventurer with less than two years under his belt, was stronger than he had any right to be.

  …If there was ever a proof that my existence was a balance-breaker in this world, Skaris was it.

  The flames leaped between the ships like they were a living, breathing, organism. It was like watching some sick biology video about bacteria; how they invade one's immune system and beginning to use the host’s body as fuel to duplicate themselves. In this case, quite literally, the ships were the kindling used to fan the flames. Skaris’ flames didn’t give off red-orange glows; they were white and hot. So hot that it heated up the air and gusts of wind were beginning to rise up.

  The towers of blue-white flame joined the wind, rising from the ships and standing over them ominously, a stark contrast to the black of the night air. The crackle of wood burning to coal was audible above the yelling that was happening everywhere.

  Everyone was trying to help.

  “Water! Water!”

  “Get the mages who have water-types!”

  “What the hell is this flame? It’s not going out!”

  “Shittt!! Priest! Priest!! Healing!”

  It wasn’t just the ships either. Any adventurer who approached too close were burning to cinders.

  No casualties… yet.

  People are a lot less burn-proof than ships or monsters. We’d been fighting such strong monsters that I underestimated Skaris until tonight myself.

  Above the chaos, a strong baritone struck out like a clear chord. It brought order to the situation immediately, drawing everyone’s attention to a single point, halting the action for one brief moment.

  Zenom stood at the forefront. Even in the middle of the night, his blue-eyes and blonde hair was visible. The wind from the flames buffeted the cloak so that it billowed out before him. Tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, Zenom took charge with all the charisma of a Paladin –literally a knight in shining armor to everyone’s rescue.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He started firing off orders, immediately prioritizing –to my surprise– the safety of everyone involved.

  “Unless you gave armor or a charm that gives you resistance to fire, back up!” He cried out, “Those who can withstand the flames will be at the front, use shovels or anything else you can find to throw sand on the flames!”

  Smart. Sand would suffocate Skaris’ flames a lot better than water could.

  “Priests, stand right behind the tanks and heal them!” He pointed with his fingers. “Tanks with flame resistance! Do not cross that line!”

  Upon saying that, he leapt into the air and slashed with his great bastardsword, using Aura. It wasn’t just for show either –the force of his swing sent out a visible slash made of air that dug into the ground and scratched across it, digging deep grooves more than five-foot deep into the beach shore.

  “Mages with Earth Mana cores! Sand! Lots of it! Those with Water-Cores! Start producing water and pull from the ocean you need to!” Zenom snapped off the rest of his orders. “I need three of our most powerful mages to pull a weather spell. Arione Popindale! Kyrian Tricilan and Natic Akkan Xaludan,” The last mage was the orange-haired pig-tailed mage with glasses, “You three work on the weather spell!”

  “The rest of you, help the mages and the tanks!”

  “Wait!” I cried out.

  The moment Zenom finished saying his peace, it was like time returned –the adventurers, priests and even sailors all rushing to obey. But I cut into that moment with a question of my own.

  While the ships were burning, might as well let them burn all the way down.

  And since the flames were bigger than I imagined, there was another problem.

  “Monsters are likely to be drawn because of the flames and noise, we need a force out at the front.” I said calmly.

  “Fuck, he’s right.” Delas muttered for everyone to hear, “And if it was really the orcs!”

  Delas and his party were off to the side and they looked tired. Dark circles, hollowed cheeks, the whole works. Not only that but Delas had a huge scar that ran across his face, pink and tender. Most people with scars look ugly –but Delas looked good with it. Still, he wasn’t the only one injured. His party had various scars and their armor still hadn’t been repaired –rips and tear everywhere. No doubt from a monster’s claw –maybe the Chuu-in if I had to guess.

  I had to admit, it made me feel pretty good.

  “Zenom! The flames!”

  Zenom made his decision instantly. “Borealis! Take your party out to the front! Take Slaveborn with you! Now, everyone, go! Move!”

  The world resumed again and I turned to move, just as a hand grabbed me from behind.

  It was Aurora.

  “Mr. Lock,” She said, her voice low, “Are you alright?”

  I nodded, “The others?”

  “Ms. Stole is with me, Mr. Kyrian is already moving to coordinate with Arione and the Akka Xalud mage from Borealis’ party.” She lowered her voice, leaning in closer, “Mr. Skaris is moving to the front, to help with the sands.”

  I hadn’t told the other members of my party; but looking at the flames now, it was obvious that it had to have been Skaris’ handiwork. Especially for Aurora, Stole and Kyrian. Aurora’s eyes searched mine, looking for confirmation.

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay safe, we can talk about it later.”

  The stony expression never left Aurora’s face but she gave a satisfied nod. “You as well, Mr. Lock.”

  As I left, I saw some people peering at me. Clover, barking (or was it baaah-ing, since she was a Sheep Beastman?) her orders at Lety, pocket-healing the barbarian woman. The two of them pretended not to look, but I saw the way their heads turned away a little too quick for it to be a coincidence. The same went for Arione who ran over towards the other mages; and Delas too. He was staring at me, his expression unreadable. The rogue didn’t even try to hide it.

  And finally, Zenom.

  Through his helmet, I could imagine his blue eyes boring into me.

  “Slaveborn, there you are!” Borealis motioned to me, waving with his hands. “There are monsters on the way here! Quick!”

  Nodding absently, I pulled away from the imaginary pull that people had on me. I stuffed my doubts –had I been too obvious? Did Skaris do too much? Would Clover tell the others?– and chased after Borealis and his party.

  Whatever the result, the plan was complete.

  Now, how the hell to bring the Dwarf here without drawing further suspicion on myself?

  The fire burned till dawn.

  The sand couldn’t suffocate the flames, the boats were too big for that. None of the mages present had enough Earth-type Mana Cores to move that much sand. For reference’s sake, Mages also absorb Cores. Specifically, Mage Towers buy Monster Cores from Adventurers. Very specific ones. I’m not sure about the science of it, but Mage towers basically melt down Monster Cores to create Mana Cores.

  If a Mage absorbs a Mana Core, they are able to cast spells of that type. Earth, Fire, Lightning and more. Only by absorbing Mana Cores of the same element and stacking them in their heart, are Mages able to cast stronger and stronger spells. Most mages tend to specialize in one or two elements, supplementing it with a pure-mana Core to cast buffs or debuffs.

  Natic Akka Xalud had three Earth-type Mana Cores. Kyrian told me that. But even she couldn’t move that much sand. In the end, Natic, Arione and Kyrian worked together to manipulate the weather –a series of water, earth, lightning, wind and fire spells stacked on top of each other. They managed to create rain clouds, finally breaking the flame’s hold on the hulls.

  But that too, gave birth to clouds of mist that we didn’t notice till it was too late. Hot steam came upon the shore steadily, before anyone could notice. Five adventurers passed out from exhaustion, and one of them had been too near the boats; his body had been steamed like a lobster in a pot. Thankfully, he didn’t die but he was being healed in the Priest’s tents.

  He’d lose an ear and parts of his nose.

  As soon as the flames settled down, we saw the blackened hulls of the boats; sparse and pointy like the skeleton of a beached whale. Sailors wept and the Captain of this fleet fell to his knees, weeping and weeping and weeping.

  My conscience cried out something fierce but I stuffed it down. Now wasn’t the time.

  Because right now, I sat in front of the Investigation Team.

  No one had slept, least of all Zenom. But he’d found the strength and energy to create a team of people he could trust. Zenom, Cecilia, one of the Priests, Borealis and…

  Emilian Kojisan.

  They set up a black tent and called people to it one by one, escorted by Borealis and the Bishop’s other personal bodyguard, whose name I hadn’t learned yet. People went without a fuss and were often released about half an hour later. At the longest, some people were there for two hours.

  And now, I sat in front of them.

  They had blackened the tents, blocking out sunlight. Only candles lit the place –though I didn’t even need that to see. I think they meant to hide some of the details, but my [Dark Vision] picked up everything. The table in front of me was long and flat, like those they use to interview people. Behind it were my questioners. Zenom, Cecilia, Priest Caraway, Borealis and Emilian; though she hadn’t revealed her face. They sat, brooding and letting the silence build up.

  I’d washed up. Changed my armor. I’d even trashed Skaris’ spear somewhere far away.

  But still, I was nervous.

  In the real world, I was just a normal software engineer who had MSS as a hobby. Even in MSS, scenarios like this were rare and often limited to multiple choice. It was one thing to sit down in front of your computer, clicking away on answers while dressed in your pajamas. There was no time limit either. I’d never been interrogated by the police, hell the toughest questioning I got was from my interview when I got hired.

  This… this was something else.

  I was in armor. The people in front of me were armed, and angry. I was tired; they were probably more tired.

  And each of them glared at me with bloody murder in their eyes, determined to find who it was that burned the boats.

  I gulped.

  “Let’s get straight to the point,” Zenom said without preamble, “Lock Slaveborn, was it you who burned down the boats?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, to say something but was interrupted.

  Emilian stood up, walking towards me. “He looks familiar. The build is right, and his gait is familiar.”

  …The fuck?

  She approached and stood right in front of me and with the speed of a snake, her hand reached out and grabbed my chin.

  Uh oh.

  “...Turn your head. Let me get a good look at your neck.” She said with a hiss, “I think that might be a burn mark over there… either from the fire…”

  “Or from acid.”