The man across from him slipped past the flurry of blows—barely. Each strike missed by inches, cloth tearing, air snapping where fists should have landed. Barrett felt a flicker of appreciation cut through the heat of his rage. The man was good. Not just trained, but seasoned.

  Still, Barrett hadn’t truly opened up yet.

  And judging by the look of the other man, neither had he.

  “Stop the fight!” Eidel’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

  The man immediately retreated a step. Barrett halted mid-motion, chest heaving, anger still boiling just beneath the surface.

  “What?” Barrett snapped, turning on her.

  “We agreed to no skills,” Eidel said evenly, as if calling for a pause in a board game.

  “I’m not using any!” Barrett shot back. Then followed her gaze.

  To Grimm.

  Perched above, wings half-spread, eyes locked on the duel.

  Barrett blinked. “You’re kidding…”

  “A deal is a deal, Imperator,” Eidel replied, a faint, satisfied smile touching her lips.

  Barrett looked back to his opponent. The man’s jaw tightened; displeasure flickered across his face, but he didn’t protest. Whatever he felt about it, he wasn’t about to challenge her authority.

  Barrett exhaled slowly and reached inward.

  He released his [Deadeye Domain].

  The world dulled at once.

  “KRAA!” Grimm cried out, startled, wings beating as the sudden severing of awareness rippled through him.

  “Easy, little fella,” Barrett muttered under his breath. “I’ve got this.”

  He forced his senses outward instead—smell, sound, pressure, instinct. The forest rushed back in, raw and unfiltered. The creak of bark, the hiss of leaves, the subtle rhythm of the ground beneath his feet. No eyes. No borrowed vision. He was one with the forest.

  Just him.

  “This is my ti—”

  The sentence never finished.

  A kick slammed into his face with brutal precision.

  Barrett’s head snapped back. He tumbled across the ground, rolling hard before crashing shoulder-first into a tree. Bark exploded outward as he hit, breath tearing from his lungs.

  He didn’t need confirmation.

  The copper taste in his mouth told him everything.

  His lip was bleeding.

  —

  Barrett reactivated his [Deadeye Domain] the moment Grimm settled back onto his shoulder, the raven’s weight familiar and reassuring as awareness snapped sharply back into focus. He stalked toward Eidel, jaw tight, every step heavy with irritation.

  “KRAA. KRAA.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Barrett muttered under his breath. “I know. I got my ass kicked.”

  The words tasted bitter. The anger was still there, but it had shifted inward now, curling around his ribs. He wasn’t furious because they’d outplayed him. He was furious because he should’ve seen it coming. He’d let his guard down and trusted someone he shouldn’t have. Again.

  As he passed between the trees, Maku pushed off the trunk he’d been leaning against and fell into step beside him.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, you big oaf,” Maku said lightly. “You were never the clever one.”

  Barrett dragged in a long breath through his nose. “I’m so stupid,” he growled, more to himself than anyone else.

  Maku smiled, not unkindly. “No,” he said gently. “You’re not stupid. Brains just…aren’t your strongest stat.”

  Barrett huffed, shoulders sagging a fraction.

  “Well,” he said after a moment, “guess I’ll go take my lumps.” He glanced toward Eidel. “Looks like we’re heading to EverGreen.”

  Maku nodded. “Probably.”

  Then, as if remembering something, he reached behind the tree. “Oh—almost forgot.” He paused, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I meant to give you this earlier, but you looked so peaceful sleeping in that wagon, I figured it could wait.”

  Barrett turned—

  And froze.

  Maku dragged the object into the light.

  Balradur.

  Wagar’s monstrous blade looked even worse up close.

  [You have been given: Balradur [C+]]

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  [A brutal, oversized blade of blackened steel, nearly as tall as its wielder. Its jagged edges are uneven and cruel, meant to rip, tear, and ruin rather than cut clean. The blade radiates a constant sense of menace, as if violence lingers within the metal itself. Even at rest, it feels heavy and eager to be swung, eager to spill blood.]

  Barrett sucked in a breath as his hands closed around the grip.

  The weight settled into his hands like it had always belonged there. Barrett had expected Balradur to be unwieldy and unbalanced, but the moment he shifted his grip, those doubts evaporated. The blade moved with him, not against him, responding as if it understood what he was built to do.

  He rolled the sword slightly, testing the edge, feeling the quiet promise humming through the metal. The irritation and embarrassment bled out of him, replaced by something darker. Something familiar. Comfortable.

  A slow smile crept across his face.

  “Yeah,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied. “This’ll do just fine.”

  Maku laughed under his breath and gave Barrett a firm pat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go have a word with our lovely highness over there,” he said. “See if you can squeeze something in your favor out of this mess.”

  Barrett glanced sideways at him. “Meaning?”

  “Fight fire with fire,” Maku replied with a wink. “Use your head for once. Surely there’s a way to return the favor.”

  Barrett snorted, swung Balradur up onto his shoulder, and turned back toward Eidel. The irritation was gone. The uncertainty with it.

  He was smiling now.

  And that was usually a very bad sign for everyone else.

  —

  Barrett walked back toward Eidel at an unhurried pace, Balradur resting easily across his shoulder.

  She wasn’t gloating, he noticed. That would’ve been easier to swallow. Eidel was too practiced for that, too political to waste effort rubbing salt into a wound when she already had what she wanted. Zahir, on the other hand, couldn’t quite hide his feelings. He stood stiffly at her side, eyes averted, jaw tight.

  Disappointed.

  Not triumphant.

  Barrett recognized the look immediately. The man wasn’t satisfied with how the victory had come about. Barrett wouldn’t have been either. In that small, unexpected way, his opinion of the scarred soldier rose a notch.

  “It was a valiant effort, Imperator,” Eidel said at last. Her tone was measured, almost regretful. “I took no pleasure in forcing that outcome. But the stakes are high. In time, you’ll understand why this path was necessary.”

  Barrett smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “That really warms me right up inside.”

  She studied him for a moment longer than necessary. Whatever she saw there made her brow crease faintly.

  Barrett’s attention drifted past her, back toward the tree.

  Wagar was stirring.

  The orc’s head lifted sluggishly, awareness creeping back into his eyes as the haze receded. The moment didn’t escape Eidel’s notice.

  “As per our agreement,” she said evenly, “he dies now.”

  “Naturally,” Barrett replied. There was something almost cheerful in his voice. “And then it’s on to EverGreen!”

  She looked up at him, clearly unsettled by the sudden lightness in his tone.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “On to EverGreen. Those of us who arrived nearer the island’s inner regions are the strongest. The city will need us.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they will,” Barrett said. He chuckled softly, but there was nothing friendly in the sound.

  Zahir’s eyes narrowed. Pippy had moved closer without Barrett noticing, her small hand slipping into his. She looked up at him, worry etched into her face.

  “Is everything okay, Mister Donovan?” she whispered.

  Barrett squeezed her hand gently in response, not looking down.

  Eidel watched him carefully now. Too carefully. His easy acceptance of her terms didn’t sit right, and she felt the need to fill the silence.

  “His sword suits you,” she said, nodding toward Balradur. “I imagine it will inspire fear in our enemies.”

  Barrett let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. It’s a nice toy.”

  He lifted the massive blade off his shoulder and angled it toward them, presenting it almost politely. “Want to see it up close?”

  Zahir reacted instantly.

  He hooked an arm around Eidel and pulled her back, stepping into her place without hesitation.

  Barrett grinned.

  Wrong read.

  He tightened his grip on Pippy’s hand. She didn’t need words. Power flowed into him and the world slowed.

  In one smooth motion, Barrett slipped past them.

  He was already moving by the time Wagar’s eyes fully focused, the orc just beginning to understand where he was, when Balradur came down in a single, brutal arc.

  The blade struck hard.

  Final.

  [You have slain Orc Chieftain — Level 18]

  [LEVEL UP!]

  [Congratulations, you are now Level 20!]

  [Skill Update Available]

  Barrett straightened slowly, the weight of the sword settling back into his hands as the last of the system notifications dissolved into nothing. The echo of the strike still seemed to hang in the air.

  The clearing was silent.

  He stood with his back to Eidel and the others and made no move to turn around.

  “You thought you could play me like a piece on your board,” he said evenly. “But you forgot—I was never your piece.”

  “You cretin,” Zahir snapped, stepping forward, anger flashing across his scarred face. “We made a deal—”

  His words were cut off by laughter.

  Soft and amused.

  Eidel laughed behind him.

  Both Barrett and Zahir turned their attention to her, momentarily caught off guard.

  “I was wondering if you’d catch that,” she said, her smile cool and unreadable. “I’m pleased to know we’ll be traveling with someone so…perceptive.”

  Barrett studied her more carefully now.

  He realized he’d underestimated her, not for the first time that day. Short black hair framed a composed face, her frame slender beneath robes that leaned scholarly rather than martial. No broad shoulders. No visible signs of physical training. She clearly wasn’t interested in cultivating any muscle.

  But that suddenly felt irrelevant.

  There was something else there. Something sharp beneath the surface. Not strength of body, but of intellect. Cunning. Calculation. A mind that liked to move pieces quietly and control the outcome.

  Cute, he thought absently. Not his usual type. And maybe that was the problem, maybe there were dimensions to people he hadn’t learned to appreciate yet, dimensions that didn’t involve how thick, solid, or tight their muscles were.

  Eidel turned away, her guards falling in around her as she began to leave the clearing.

  “Well,” she said lightly, “this has been…enlightening. We should settle in for the night. Tomorrow will be a long march on the road to EverGreen.”

  She laughed softly as she passed, as though the tension had never existed at all.

  Zahir hesitated only a moment before following her.

  “Yo, Scar,” Barrett called out.

  Zahir stopped, but didn’t turn.

  “This isn’t over,” Barrett said.

  Zahir inclined his head slightly. “No,” he agreed. “It is not.”

  Then he walked on.

  Maku drifted up beside Barrett, arms crossed, expression curious.

  “Something on your mind?” Barrett asked.

  Maku tilted his head. “You know that thing you two just did?” he said.

  Barrett frowned. “What thing?”

  “The dramatic exchange,” Maku continued. “Where you both say ominous stuff while facing opposite directions.”

  “…Yeah?” Barrett said cautiously.

  Maku snorted. “Not as cool in real life.”

  Barrett stared at him.

  “It just looks goofy,” Maku went on, laughing now. “Two grown men threatening each other while staring in opposite directions.”

  Barrett groaned. “Not everything’s supposed to be a movie.”

  “Oh please,” Rei jumped in. “You absolutely did that on purpose. Especially the part about not being a piece on the board.” They laughed harder. “That was pure theater.”

  “I thought it was cool, Mister Donovan,” Pippy said from beside Granny, her voice earnest.

  Granny smiled in that warm, indulgent way of hers. “You looked very tough, Barrett.”

  Maku and Rei smiled knowingly. They knew Granny and Pippy’s endorsement wasn’t making him feel any better.

  “I need to get out of here, got skills to assign and stuff,” Barrett muttered, turning away.

  KRAA. KRAA.

  Barrett stopped and sighed.

  “…Not you too, Grimm.”

  The raven offered no apology.