I felt a slight tingling as something was trying to get my attention, but it wasn’t for the attention of a system notification. Something else was activating. I flicked through everything until I got to the Closed Caption Box.

  It was typing out text of unknown speech–trying to, at least. I focused my attention on the aural nettle in the lobby, but nothing had entered through the (still open!) doors. Whatever the plant was hearing, it was coming from outside.

  Someone was shouting? It must have been if it reached into the room and bounced around a bit.

  A few minutes later, someone entered.

  That someone was not a Dark Goblin.

  They were about a head taller than the goblin–just under five feet–but their head was certainly larger than a goblin’s. He was clearly a male, sprouting a close cut full beard and mustache. His black hair was short but bushy, topped with a wide-brimmed leather hat similar to an Akubra. But his body was the most distinctive–stout and wide, with thick arms and legs. He had well-worn leather and cloth clothes and carried a backpack. When he came through the door, he was holding a bow with an arrow already knocked as he entered, the quiver not on his back but hanging from his belt.

  This guy was, absolutely, a fantasy dwarf.

  The Dwarf passed through the doorway and entered the lobby, exiting my senses.

  There was more shouting from outside, then the Dwarf shouted something back. The Closed Caption Box picked it up more clearly:

  Well, a little bit more clearly. The Closed Caption Box was struggling to translate everything being said; I was optimistic it would get better. Regardless, I didn’t really need an accurate translation to get the gist of what was said.

  More Dwarves came through the door, stutter-stopping my demesne as they did. Eight Dwarves in total. One of the Dwarves was badly injured and unconscious and had to be carried by two others. The big stone doors of the lobby were quickly shut.

  Annoyingly, I couldn't see what they were doing inside my lobby. However, from their haggard and beaten appearance, I guessed they needed a moment of respite from whoever was chasing them.

  For me, I had taken a gander at each of their sigil arrays as they passed through their door–quick peeks that I saved for review.

  The Dwarves sigil arrays were all filled, but they were more than that, much more than that. Their sigil arrays were so much more.

  The Dark Goblins had a sigil array that consisted of a dense core in the center and four sigil “nodes” evenly spaced along the edge. These places started empty and were filled in with additional sigils when the goblin’s level increased.

  The Dwarves’ sigil arrays were different. First, the center of the sigil array was empty. This really befuddled me, as I thought the center was fundamentally connected to the person’s being. Here, however, it almost looked like a fifth sigil spot. None of the Dwarves, who were all level 6 or level 7, had their empty core filled in with a sigil, however.

  What really surprised me was that all of the Dwarves had a second sigil array! The second array looked similar to the first–a central core, albeit smaller, with four nodes arranged in a cross pattern on the edges of the disk. This second array was anchored to the first: two of the nodes were filled with the sigils of the original array. The result was that the two sigils had been morphed, their lines, swirls and patterns having been changed by the add-on. In fact, since all of the Dwarves had this, I was not sure what the underlying original sigils had been before the merger.

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  The status screens helped me to understand what I was seeing.

  It looked like the Dwarves’ secondary sigil arrays acted like what I knew as “classes.”

  The secondary sigils had names–of people? ‘Phalia,’ ‘Vigil,’ ‘Ingix,’ and ‘Uro,’ only one of them I recognized. I checked and, indeed, the last one was the same as the one in my welcome message, the name of this world.

  The implications were not very clear to me and, in any event, I had much bigger and immediate issues.

  Of the eight Dwarves, six were level six and two were even level seven. Their composition was well-balanced: three fighters, two hunter/scouts, a healer, and two that looked like camp supporters. The fighters and hunters had solid gear, armor, and weapons. Even the craftsmen had some simple leather armor.

  I had just spent so much energy–creative and mana–to create a level 3 skeleton snake. These guys would steamroll it. The skeleton room? Now, it was a joke.

  Now, someone was trying to push one of the doors open, the door barely budged before being pushed back.

  I checked the Closed Caption Box to see if I could get more of the story:

  The goblins had briefly pushed one of the doors partly open. In that gap, I froze up as a goblin tried to rush through. But one of the Dwarves, with an exclaimed cry, stabbed the goblin in the neck. The goblin collapsed right in the doorway.

  The Dwarves tried to push the door closed, but the goblin’s body acted as a doorstop. The fighting continued as the Dwarves tried to pull the body in and quickly close the door.

  But I had stopped paying too much attention because I had felt something when that goblin died.

  I checked my status and did a double-take.

  I had gained Essence.

  That goblin had died in that narrow band of demesne I had where the door opened. Incredible!

  Incredible . . .

  My mind was racing a mile a minute. The Closed Caption Box was struggling to do a complete translation, only getting a few words right now (I also would need to twerk the box to make it clearer who was saying what, but that was a later problem). I tried to quickly suss out what they were saying about me.

  I think I was right that the goblins were after my core. The Dwarves, did the Dwarves want my core too? I didn’t know!

  If they did, I was doomed.

  Seconds were passing. The stalemate at the door continued, but for how long?

  Defend myself; get Essence. There was a window of opportunity–a door of opportunity–right here right now.

  Could I do it?

  I had to.

  There was not time. I made the decision, steeled my mind, and prepared for what was to come.

  Then I struck.