Echoes of Antipolo

Originally written from October 29, 2023 to April 27, 2024 


Prompt

Chapter 1 - Laborer

Author's Note

Stay and rest awhile. This is going to be a long ride. I may fine-tune published chapters as I go, but the main idea is there: how limited one narration is yet how wide everyday actions influence society. I am narratively restoring the power back to the people by emphasizing how much power an individual holds amid war and terror. It's third person omniscient point of view, so be warned. Here are some observations about the style of this book: very detailed and vivid descriptions, especially of settings, characters' appearances, and actions; lots of detail about the fictional world, almost like a history book mixed with fiction; combines standard prose with scripts and scientific writing at times; and shifts perspective between different characters to advance the plot and provide insights into their thoughts/motives. It will feel like a long car ride where one's head is in a constant cycle of reflection with slight motion sickness maybe, but with the overall feeling of curiosity and stillness. Imagine yourself at the top of a mountain, sitting down all alone. You may lie there for 1,000 metaphorical years, listening to ambient music; that is the length of the book. This book focuses on narrative rather than gimmicks like outrageous or silly premises, genre shifts, exaggerated caricatures or archetypes used for humor or shock value, instant gratification through deus ex machina, and random events used just to surprise the reader. If there are instances of sudden boosts, it is foreshadowed before hand, using resources already established long before. Gratification needs to feel earned. Expect everything to fall apart in the pursuit of everything, after I edge my way through the details.


When it came to the idea of visions, one laborer saw a bright light shining in the horizon. As for what it meant, it said: "Don't go to work today." Regarding his response, he used a sense that this light was guiding him as a promise of good luck. Though, this vision was imaginary. In conclusion, despite all this imagination, he embodied the everyday laborer who wanted to return home and procure a fresh drink.

Transitioning to a formal standpoint, the beast, the environment, would always make the man. To tie this to the laborer, he was a good case in point.

Accelerating to a more mechanical level, the laborer was marching in a large city between a point A and a point B. Moreover, surrounding him, buildings were sectioned into the residential areas, the government offices, the barracks, and the wilderness, among others; all of this within the confines of this city. To put it simply, his environment was more than capable of addressing needs and functions, provided it had access to resources and manpower.

Switching to schedules and dynamics, the current events unfolding in the laborer's life all occurred on a significant day 1. As for what this meant, its significance would be revealed later at least.

Shifting view to his actions, he was picking up a defined number of bags at point A and walking over to point B to drop them. Moreover, the distance between point A and B ran across the city. Furthermore, point B was located at the city gate, while point A was located in the wilderness where a cave entrance leading to a dungeon was. In short, the worker played a role in this infrastructural process.

Turning to a more vivid note, the environment was screaming with life in so many ways. To show some examples, five scenes came to mind. First, the sound of fresh wind maneuvered through the streets of the city like a man breaking a melon skillfully with his fingers all on their own and each acting independently. Second, the calling of two children echoed through the streets cavernously. Third, the darkness of clouds provided depth in various areas, highlighting the insufficiently lit parts of the city, showcasing its disparity of lights. Four, the compensation of the torch bearers in their quest to bring light to the darkness was a pillar of the city. Lastly, the loud noises of babies in the night time preceded the soothing humming that ran through the windows. In the end, the sound of wind, the calls of children, the dark clouds, the torch bearers' roles contributed to the scream of the environment.

As for the relationship between the vivid complexity of his environment and the laborer, he dealt with it by restricting himself within a simple veneer. Additionally, in it, his face and his smile, and, by extension, the characteristics of his appearance became locked in place as a way to assert his independence across a field of dynamics. Third, his appearance, particularly his face and smile, was a mechanism employed in navigating an ever-complexifying world. Overall, the city and the environment were him.

In contrast, his face was a minor indicator of him as a person. To phrase this in a more nuanced manner, it was primarily a fleeting look into a moment of him; though, it could be everything at that moment. To sum, his face briefly revealed him, but it might be most crucial at that moment of reveal.

Moving forward to the aesthetic side of his person, he had three other non-environmental attributes that dictated in some way who he was. First, his clothes were trimmed awkwardly like a mess of sewing equipment on a muddy floor. Second, his eyes were sorrowfully green like a faint gem gasping for breath. Finally, the parts of his breath was like a moment's embrace, as they danced through the gaps in the wind's strength like a pervasive disease seeking entrance into peoples' gaping mouths. Moreover, the particular vividness of this list of attributes reflected how he perceived himself. However, it was also how his role models and peers perceived him to varying extents as influences to his personality. To conclude, the aesthetics were critical in understanding him because of how he and others perceived them rather than some inherent value that they might hold.

Maneuvering to a broader, metaphorical level, a timely drip of rainwater would open up a grand line of a hurricane of peoples from across the land. In addition, in this line, where the city hugged itself, the young man was present. At the end of the day, he was part of something big.

Scaling down to the concerns of the everyday level, this young man, Maverick, heard from his co-workers that it was arranged for him to be the one handling more than his usual set of bags today, but he wanted nothing to do with it, even after pondering the idea for a moment. Eventually, he said, "I really shouldn't go to work today." All things considered, he resolved to take the day off.

Incidentally, the urban streets accomodated his form as one among hundreds of fairgoers in a city, each individual holding above their heads a busy calendar. To encapsulate, this scene illustrated the blend between the city and the fairgoers, each expressing a certain calendar-pertaining hurry.

Anyway, he concocted a plan to avoid work by hiring a young clueless boy in order to fill in for him. As for the boy's background, he came from the slums, a willing laborer with a family of his own. From what Maverick heard, the boy enjoyed apples. Finally, he showed motivation and an obedient spirit, two out of three traits for success.

"Okay, Mr. Boy," said Maverick. "I should be Maverick, but you, today, are going to be me, right? That's cool, right? So we—" Also, he glanced past a few passersby at the boy, waiting to see if the boy was willing to fine-tune his plan, correct him, or provide any sort of resistance toward his communication structure, for which he opened up a spot in his overt hesitation. To sum up, he was testing him, hoping to grasp that last trait for success—proactivity.

"Should I wear a mask, Mr. Sir?" interrupted the boy, moving out of the way of passersby, wanting to get a more definite understanding of Maverick's plan. As for the context behind this, he only got a brief explanation regarding the mission earlier, but he wasn't one to waste an opportunity to question. As for why he used double titles of courtesy, as seen in "Mr. Sir," it was intended to emphasize his respect for a fruitful collaboration with Maverick in the context of the mission. In essence, he wanted to get to know Maverick better as was practical.

Shifting to Maverick, he said: "No, no, we don't want that yet. But... Ah, whatever. You're going to wear it later... anyway. In fact, you're also going to be doing awesome things, so be!" In addition, he giggled, sidestepping out of the way of passersby, excited at the potential the boy had in becoming much more assertive. To elaborate his process of thought, he intentionally hid information because he wanted to see if the boy was capable of flexibility and adaptability in meeting Maverick on the same playing field. In addition, he was prepared for all of them to lose everything today, but he would make sure that the boy was resilient enough to handle any mishaps or unexpected challenges. To sum, Maverick tested the boy's adaptability and resilience, eager for his assertiveness to grow.

So instead of watching the boy rhythmically like the mechanical fluttering of the golem, Maverick stood still, beside a group of passersby temporarily discussing in place regarding an event. Then, he went along with the plan, taking quick steps and waiting for the boy to do something. To wrap his actions up, it was all one disassembly: if the boy did something, this would spur things forward.

When the boy did nothing and glanced only at the passersby, Maverick abruptly put a mask on him, recognizing that he was missing that one essential completing trait. Anyway, this mask would make it so that it was challenging for the task masters to check him since the streets reeked of disease and dirt enough to disable their sense of smell as well. In the end, the interplay of the mask and the boy's failure involved an exchange. Furthermore, Maverick's withheld information would only be unneeded package for the boy who showed no sign of the willingness Maverick was looking for.

Completing the departure from Maverick and the boy's dynamic and journeying to the task masters, these brutes were known to be very careful when it came to direct physical touch. This was one reason why they often used an outranging whip. Hence, the task masters posed a tangible threat to Maverick's side.

"Don't ever cut ties with me, don't leave me because I'm lonely little piece of shit," mocked the task master managing Maverick once in the past to him and his laborer teammates. "We aren't gonna let you take a little pedestal and say, 'Na-na-na-na-na! Not today, okay? Whatever imagines you got. Please put them in a little dust bin, and put them out... right now." Also, the context behind his unusual phrases could be explained. To conclude this snippet, "Cut ties with me" meant "act detached and only pretend to listen," and "imagines" was just another way of saying "imaginations."

With the task masters' threat clear, Maverick prepared effectively. This involved the boy's mask disguise being natural since the man regularly wore one.

Now, he couldn't afford for the boy, his deputy, to get caught. Naturally, to prevent this, he hired two more deputies to act as reserves and watch in case the first one couldn't take the pressure. All in all, his preparation response had one more prong to it.

"I have the best plan," said the first boy, Notch, and this straightforward assertion was pivotal in convincing the two boys.

Coincidentally, he greeted a group of older acquaintances smiling at him.

In any case, with the two new boys on board, they would—according to consensus—switch with the boy, as they were close in height.

After politely excusing myself toward an older lady passing by, Maverick looked at them, making them feel that he was sure. But he just had that look of confidence plastered on his face.

"Hey, what if we fail?" said the oldest among them, Billy, counterbalancing the confident mood, as he snuck a glance at a pair of women his age.

"Huh," said Notch, not knowing what to say since he was a doer rather than a thinker. Even with this, the boys proceeded calmly and even excitedly. Additionally, while he put his hand to his face with thought, he accidentally bumped into a passerby and excused himself, smiling politely when the passerby assured him that it was fine.

Returning to the height strategy, Maverick would have already returned to his place, re-attaching the mask. Should a decision to check behind it come through, it would fall under the jurisdiction of the task master.

After Maverick led the boys to the place of interest where the task master was, the task master present, Sprutnoa, said: "I will kill a piece of crappy ninny today if none of you do something with your life. Strike up!" To clarify, "strike up" meant "going above and beyond expectations."

Afterwards, since they got the confirmation that it was time, Maverick and the other two boys left Notch before Sprutnoa noticed them.

Shifting to the broader workflow, the journey would last only about 30 minutes, so the boys would need to be very quick when it came to switching if the time came.

At the moment, the first boy, Notch, finally introduced himself into the system of laborers, glancing briefly at a noisy group of passersby to avoid looking too attentive or too curious.

Later, during the journey, in an area where only a few passersby could be seen at the distance, the task master did show suspicion, but that was toward another laborer, who said "Hey, may—"

"Shut it," said Sprutnoa, smirking as if he said the funniest thing. "Is that how you should be speaking to me? Know your place? Okay?" Furthermore, his voice was sarcastic, as if he was saying the most obvious thing. "If you really don't like the intentional mood, why don't take a understanding test and believe in yourself that this entire thing you're doing is a big fucking joke. It's actually... According to the hierarchy of things and knowledge, it is utterly pointless, and philsophically, it's stupid. You know, according to Mr. Soaks—the greatest philosopher of all time—it's like the most disgusting little ick. Heh? Just a little bang-bing-bung man waiting patiently to be destroyed, to be crushed by the real, awesome world where the awesome people take position and be awesome in the most awesome way. Look at your friends. They're cool! They got the skills to match up with their incredibly hateable personalities! They have the understanding of the entire world, isn't that right? But you? You are so incredibly smart too! You! So awesome and beautiful! Hahahaha! It's like I'm looking at me past self. Oh, wait...! I wasn't like you. No. Even better. I was so awesome, more, more, more, more! I was better than you in every single way. Do you get me? Do you have the understanding that understanding getting me? That's so cool!" To repeat, he was being very sarcastic.

His face turned stone-faced, and his voice became deadpan. "Just shut up and move on, okay? I'm not answering any of your questions.

"Do you understand?

"Listen.

"Okay?"

Afterwards, after Sprutnoa repeatedly provoked him, the laborer couldn't bear it any more and took it out on him.

Specifically, he dove, raised his fist, and slammed the task master. The notion that any task master could be beaten impinged upon the power of every task master, so he was pressured to make an example out of the young laborer.

Overall, the dive marked the start of the fight between the laborer "Inframark" and the task master Sprutnoa.

To begin with, Sprutnoa ran his fist into Inframark's arm, smirking.

As for the third exchange, Inframark kicked, while Sprutnoa used his elbow.

Altogether, it was a messy, sloppy fight.

Sprutnoa got a kick on Inframark's more vulnerable side, his hands creating distance between them.

Inframark fell to the ground, the drag and impact of the fall reducing his agility by a significant amount.

Simultaneously, Sprutnoa wheezed, struggling to breathe, which made him appear vulnerable and put pressure on the clock. Moreover, he loosened his arms to escape a muscle ache.

Inframark got up and shot his fist against Sprutnoa's elbows.

A second later, Inframark grabbed Sprutnoa's wrists and kicked him.

Before a series of punches, the laborer's kick unintentionally served as a feint and delivered his whole back into his swings, so Sprutnoa twisted his body to mitigate the damage even further.

When Inframark huffed to breathe and loosened his grip slightly, Sprutnoa forced Inframark away, hitting the the laborer on the left shoulder.

Inframark slowed down and paused before backing away and squatting down, supporting himself with his palms on the ground.

Sprutnoa lifted his leg for a kick before he dropped it.

Finally, Inframark was lying on the ground, breathing heavily, too exhausted to fight. When Sprutnoa came close to keep fighting, Inframark raised his arms in submission, repeating that he couldn't fight anymore. Afterwards, the fight was over in a way that left both fighters dissatisfied yet strangely relieved, as if fighting allowed them to be honest for once. But they were not conscious of this fact or symbolism, too tired to deliver a speech and analyze themselves. They only felt the mixed feelings that came after an intense fight with someone one knew well, needing time to process what happened. For now, they could only bear with the physical pain until it subsided. Only then, they could engage in introspection.

"What was the point?" Sprutnoa said, putting on a smile before a serious look took over.

"Why fight? Tell me. I don't understand it. Really. And everyone that has been pretending for so long. I'm not saying you're not doing something possibly potentially maybe awesome in some way or manner. I'm just saying why. Why do it? Why be so sure of yourselves and put yourselves in danger unnecessarily? You know, make an actual life? Do you recognize that the only way we're moving forward is through reality? Real things, actually caring, actually doing something, and being real. You are really not much of an actual 'tryer' (trier), are you? In fact, you are completely and utterly devastated. You're an actualy no-brainer with the only thing backing up is being an absolute lost cause. And I'm not saying— I'm not saying you're a loser... or you're hateable in some way or 'matterble' (manner). I'm saying that that's all you've been putting yourselves to, committing yourselves towards. It's ineffective. Let's be honest. Like, let's just not. Let's be real. Let's be real. How about you actually think for a second? Be clearly, really, truly. I am not guy. I am not that guy. I am merely a representation of what must be and what has to be in order to sensify things into an actual state of, of reality. We are told to let it go and be the people who do the right things while... In the meantime, other people, you know what they do, you know what they do? They throw themselves onto a bed, and they cry. Do you get it? Do you really get it? Is it there in your hair (head)?" In addition, he scanned the laborers' reactions, who looked subdued rather than motivated. In response, he added, "Let's be clear. Not a bunch of lost causes or 'tussle tons'. We are truly and utterly completely real, right? Not, not, not, not this. Not this little disgusting little thing. No! Absolutely not!"

Consequently, the laborers turned around to return to work. Following this, Sprutnoa raised his hand and halted them.

Shifting to a more straightforward level, Sprutnoa said, extending a polite, reassuring smile toward passersby that had raised their brows in concern: "If you really tried, oh gosh. If you really did? You'd be a winner! Yeah! I want to create the winner state, not people who push themselves into a pit of hell. [I want to] tussle with the people who actually try, not clenched a-holes who put their little disgusting little things in a twist every golly dong ding day! This is the honest truth: best you be putting yourselves in an actual place of honesty and look real hard at the reality that is governing us today. We need to be actual human beings, you know. And, and, and I really do trust that you guys can do it. You know what must be done. You guys know that you guys can wield it. And now, go onwards! Work hard for what you want instead of [being] an actual loser! I am not saying that everyone's fine and no one's crying in the dark. I'm just saying that people suffer. That's normal. That's real. That's everyone. I struggle everyday to give a family who has no care or damn about my existence. I do put myself available in an available manner for just a tiny bit of care. But decline! No! Look at me! I am an utter dipshit. Put down, crushed under a rock. I am lost. But do you see mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah (crying)? No! I do what I do because I have a choice and I chose to do the right thing because of love and because nothing in the world matters... Even if! Even if I have been tossed and turned by those whom I have given my spirit and history of life toward. It's so..." He frowned suddenly, his eyes falling simultaneously. "It's just my life... hehe!" he said in a mocking tone, as if he was mocking Life itself. "That's the, that's the reality. Now, just believe yourselves, and be honest. Face the truth. Face it, you little limp dick cowards! Move! And be something for once in your life" Although his usual grit returned, it was mixed with an underlying grief. Moreover, he was saying this not only to the laborers but to himself as a mantra-reinforcing reminder. "If you can't be honest and realize that when I was trying to tell you something, I'm not being mean. I'm being honest. I'm being a real honest human being like no [one] like you would ever have. So either you change your life for the better, recognize the truth. Or can you please go home and cry like a little limp-dick victim and be a loser... forever, crying, sitting down, begging, praying, shitting, sitting, meaning nothing. Do you understand? Do you want to feel something for once, or do you want to do nothing?" He laughed genuinely and with a pattern of nostalgia and self-teasing.

Meanwhile, the shadow of Sprutnoa fell over Notch, whose eyes looked shaken behind his mask, but he dared not show fear ostentatiously like a peacock.

At the sight of Notch, Sprutnoa with concern and newfound calm: "Are you okay? Look, I'm sorry if that you made you feel weird, Maverick. See everyone, look at Maverick. This person, this human being, despite everything, performs the best and is a honest-to-God person. This proves that he's not pretending despite all of the feelings, and if he is, then his emotions and his truthfulness of real life should at least show that he's not here to make a fucking joke. He's here for you to acknowledge that you have to try harder. Hmm-hmm! That's what you have to do. You have to try.

"But, look, look, oh look! This loser limp-dick piece of shit does not have the capacity to look and believe and feel and empathize with hope and beauty, he is lost, he is not present. He's gone!" He was referring to the laborer he had just beaten.

In simple terms, Notch found his expectations of himself raised, while the laborer saw his falter. As for Sprutnoa, he saw himself as "justified." After all the good things he had gone through and the good people he had met, there was no way that anyone would defy his humanity and all the people who had been kind to him. No one would make their lives meaningless through their callousness toward him. They would not break the humanity that those people who had helped him had. Accordingly, he was justified and the epitome of grace and beauty.

Thus, the journey began, and the time ticked, 30 minutes remaining.

As for his response to the remaining time, the boy counted his steps.

In the meantime, while several laborers whispered behind Notch, one of them spoke too loud. This was due to a growing discontent with the task master's actions that overburdened the armrests of victory. To make it clearer, he was Inframark, the sibling of the laborer who had lost to the task master earlier.

When it came to the sibling, he sternly warned Inframark to "quiet down and take a gaudy look" at the mission. To explain, his use of "gaudy" in "gaudy look" emphasized a critical examination to the point of looking gaudy. Though, it stemmed from an ancient confusion between "gaudy look" and "take a gander at".

Anyway, the reason for the warning was the imminent arrival of a taskmaster.

Nonetheless, Inframark cursed task masters with frustration, adding the proverbial statement "No masters!"

Despite the task master's initial awareness, he brushed off Inframark's expressions as childish and bombastic.

From his point of view, he heard a very brief, high-pitched whine in the distance, stopped, and turned around to do his usual look-around. By this point, his head was turned away from the laborer.

Immediately, without thinking, the laborer attacked the task master in the eyes from behind, alerting the other laborers to stay out of the way.

Subsequently, his adrenal gland responding more readily due to regular exercise, the task master threw out a curving, extended strike, hitting the laborer on the forehead to stun or distract him rather than do heavy damage. This was in succinct preparation for his follow-up heavy hitter, the whip, in a combatant breakdown.

Eventually, when the task master's whip fell, the laborer hit the ground, his cheek burning. Similarly, the task master cringed backward, covering his burning eyes.

Meanwhile, the laborers began to feel the natural course of the confrontation die down in expectation of a clean repression of insubordination.

Nevertheless, wanting to break out of the small world he was in—society, the only thing he knew—the laborer ran.

Moreover, screaming furiously, he cocked his head back defiantly only to see the eyes of Sprutnoa staring at him with a neutral expression, the kind that implied disappointment and disillusionment.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to everyone, the surrounding woodland began to grow louder and louder with roars and cries.

Then, Notch saw the terrified expressions of the two other boys who were leaving him. But the silhouettes of beasts emerged, striding closer and closer.

Finally, Notch recognized that today was going to be the best day of his life, because he would win. Second, he prepared everything for this moment: all his life's experiences amassed. Third, his skills were divinely favored. Fourth, he knew it, as he would sometimes talk about how he would not freeze up in this situation. Fifth, he would instead avoid a beast's attacks and treat it like a dog, playing catch with it. Sixth, once he beat a beast, he would receive the greatest rewards.

So he was excited, hardening his fist, tensing his outgoing, athletic legs. Furthermore, since he was the most favored here in terms of plan and preparation, he was already on the move.

Later, as soon as the beast jumped out, Notch was standing in the way, realizing his body and his mind were on two opposite ends of the spectrum, leaving him frozen in place. Metaphorically, it was like staring at the birds in the morning or walking around for breakfast. Even after everything, the will of his body was not on his side this time.

Simultaneously, the task master was quick, slashing the beast and kicking it to the ground with a spinning swirl. "Purge the weak!" he said from all the adrenaline.

Shifting to conclusive context behind Sprutnoa as a person, he wanted to ensure that Notch, whom he thought was Maverick, and the other laborers were safe, but he was already trying to prepare himself to push away the grief that would result from the death of a laborer. In other words, he had to be strong, he couldn't just sit still and watch, and he had to keep going because no one deserved to be hurt.

As for the relationship between his role as a strict, provocative task master and himself, six concerns could be identified. One, he had a sense of obligation to be honest with his values and conviction. Second, being a task master was merely a role that he felt that he needed to embody, blurring the lines between his more polite self and his aggressive role. Third, he really did care about others. Fourth, he didn't want to hurt people, but he wasn't going to pretend that he was perfect. But he had to keep trying. Fifth, he couldn't pretend or be complacent. Lastly, he had to keep improving himself, so today, he had to give his all into stopping the beasts, whatever it took, even if it might make him look weak or unmanly.

Additionally, he was the epitome of grace and beauty, and he was justified in protecting those he cared about because people mattered. And divinity could only do so much, as even as a random human trying to reconcile the power and the attendant responsibilities and expectations that a task master entailed, he would become everything to help them at this very moment, even if it meant losing himself in the process. If people saw what he saw, they would see beauty in the everyday level and believe in the potential of people, even simple laborers whom people dismissed as nothing. But they weren't nothing, and he would do everything to help them gain the respect they deserved. But he wasn't going to pretend that they were perfect either. In the end, he could only hope for someone with the same grit and passion he had rather than some manchild characterized by an interplay of cynicism, undeveloped empathy, and a victim mentality reigning over his head. To answer possible criticism, his sarcastic provocations were meant to dismantle the pride, arrogance, complacency, and callousness, among other associated negative traits, that he often saw brewing in those who had not developed a taste for beauty. As for how provocatively he responded to the question to the laborer, he did that because the laborer was the kind to ask questions constantly without using his brain, often repeating himself when the situation called for independence through self-reflection, observation, and initiation with other laborers rather than the fostering of overdependence onto authority figures who could only afford the time to micromanage so much.

In short, he would become everything. No, this was not sufficient.

In a fit of restrained rage, he grabbed his fists and pumelled the beasts, slaying several smaller ones and making sure that each of them was dead. If he could grab them all and make them his thralls, he would, and he would need to savor their defeat and their enslavement if it meant that others would be safe. He would allow himself to crave ambition, power, arrogance, and psychopathy in order to embody love, because the only thing that mattered was the results. If psychopathy saved lives best, he would love it. Ha, if he couldn't save anyone, in the end, what was he? A mere putrid mockery of the hope that brought him here.

He grabbed a dead beast and used it as a harbinger of himself toward the beasts. They would know his love and pain, because he would show them.

He kicked them, their face flying off toward the horizon.

He kicked them again. Again, again, again, again, again.

"No more!" he screamed, as he saw the laborers getting ganged on by beasts.

He flinched when the beasts made a loud sound with their calls at each other and at the laborers, but he restrained his fear as well, chanelling it toward his fists as he grabbed several smaller beasts and massacred them endlessly until their bodies lay still. "No more!"

But the greater beasts were looming, surrounding him, and taking their place like kings.

He would not be able to live through this if he stayed. He had to abandon his rage and channel it forward toward retreat. This would be his tactical facet operating, because running it down would be much, much worse. He knew he should be satisfied with his current rewards and focus on returning to base, particularly the place where he could send an alert for reinforcements. He couldn't lose his tempo.

However, once the laborers failed to retreat and instead ran in directions away from safety and toward the beasts in a fit of confusion, they would die. He had to bite the bullet and choose the tactical ending instead of staying to communicate with them, because any more tempo wasted was likely to kill more laborers. He had to choose the choice with the likelier chance of success and trust the laborers to make the right choices and escape.

Chapter 2 - The Death of a Human Being
At the moment, outside the context of the reality of the past, next to Sprutnoa, Notch stood while view was askew, as his head felt dizzy due in part to the loud sounds and the wind blowing against his face. This wind came from the beast moving around, and he realized that he was this close to the beast: not just an enemy. It was his life moments away from death.

Regarding the new forefront of the fight with the greater beasts, the task master's kick did nothing. So he ran for his life, cradling the arm that he used to slash earlier.

One of the beasts stared down at a laborer, slashing her on the neck before she fell, her voice like a soft blanket in the warm sun. Her life's worth was plunged away.

The task master gazed back, gnashing his teeth.

Simultaneously, another beast grabbed a laborer and bit him, leaving his body partially eaten. His life's worth was given a beating.

The task master shook his head with grief, tears dripping down his face, as he hoped to find help from his fellow task masters who had more lethal resources at their disposal.

Moving on to Notch's viewpoint, he was beginning to fade away, moving backward. Furthermore, his heart began to sense the matter-of-fact nature of death.

On a different note, the rest of the laborers were scattering beyond the beast's immediate pouncing rage, while Notch still had a large amount of steps before he could join them. In the meantime, the task master was the farthest from the beasts, since his legs were well-conditioned for ganging up on victim-minded scum.

Returning to Notch, he watched the laborers, running in another direction to avoid having the beasts converge on the highest amount of laborers in a single place. In the meantime, the beasts were right behind him, gaining a juggernaut-like momentum.

Moreover, the task master was beginning to feel weak in his throat, as anxiety for the laborers made him shake as he ran.

Individually, Notch and Sprutnoa, the task master, shared a similar notion. If they stopped now, they wondered if they would live.

As soon as they thought that, they sunk an appreciable portion of energy into a burst of speed, flying forward.

While Notch bursted, he deftly avoided the trees and barely held onto a smooth run, almost smacking his face against the wood. Feeling the weight of the beasts' shadows on him, their sharp tips just above his back, if he stopped now, he would lose the hide of his back and beyond.

So he ran, his throat dry, his lungs sinking in agony, his legs about to buckle from the cringe of pain.

In the end, his breathing was frantic. Second, he made a few turns. Three, he sunk more appreciable energy into smoothing out his momentum across various different parts of his forest choice of path.

With the relief that came with fight-or-flight, he found himself outpaced at a place further than he could ever be before everything turned to dust. In other words, he was faster than his past self.

Beside Notch, a laborer felt the tips of the beasts sink into his skin, past his muscles, and into his organs. In a moment, his scream fell short with a zip.

Coincidentally, the task master couldn't hear his pain, but he was already grieving for him.

Anyway, Notch absentmindedly escaped because of the laborer, darting according to the plan that Maverick chalked up.

After what felt like a long silence through the woods like that of a bunch of unsupervised kids playing in a wild dance, it was "Arghh!" that Notch screamed for the first time, a flurry of energy zipping into his veins. He would not be stopped.

As soon as he saw the two boys, they were hiding in a bush, their eyes like a bunch of tangerines in a vendor stall.

In the two boys' eyes, a predatory urge showed its presence. When Notch recognized this, his face crumpled.

Even after all the death, they thought about throwing Notch away if the beasts were on his tail. In the end, he couldn't dare stay outside, so he threw himself like a barbarian into the bush.

As a result of his mad entry, the boys were too close to Notch to want to kill him now. Importantly, they were merely teenage peers in a desperate situation.

When the beasts took form in the light, they arrived with red teeth wet with the blood of the fallen laborers' heads.

In the silence of a great death, the boys had their heads moving on their own, and around, they went with elements of hurt, fear, and doom.

Throughout the event of the massacre, the task master had already escaped, but Maverick was approaching, as 20 minutes had passed. From his perspective, he was about to swap with the boys, ignorant of the attack and the beasts' presence. In his mind, he believed that the laborers were likely fighting the task masters, but he was ignorant regarding the beasts' invasion into the laborers' paths.

Before Notch came out of the vegetation, the boys next to him stopped him from alerting Maverick, as the beasts were already sneaking behind the confident Maverick, the arrogant Maverick.

He only wanted to know how the boys were doing, but it was not like he cared about them in particular. He just wanted to ensure that the mission of swapping between deputies went smoothyl. However, even if the beasts called, he still was not aware of what they meant. It was not like he didn't hear them every time. It was just that the calls of today carried a different context. It was now horrific.

Shaking like people seeing themselves die, the boys tussled with each other amid Maverick's confrontation with death right behind his back. They were trying to enact their will upon each other—either Notch would leave or he couldn't. But he wanted to call Maverick.

"Maverick!"

It was too late.

Notch shouted with the sky backing his voice, turning his soul into a fiery pheonix and shining past the leaves and the hay that protected houses from rain. In this aura, Maverick was within his grasp. He bolted, his arms stretching out.

Yet, before Maverick screamed, the beasts already got him, glancing immediately at Notch who had hidden himself already before they were able to register his presence.

Then and there in the bushes, Maverick fell to the ground, his body thudding against the forest floor like a wet pile of clothes.

Notch gasped, as if he was the one who lost his soul.

The way he fell was emphatic like he was marching into the king's court about to make the biggest dick joke. It invited hilarity in a way that seemed obtuse and ignorant of the true circumstances. No, it was laughable knowing the truth. The way he died resembled the start of the joke, and the end of it.

Despite the troublesome way he died, his choice of clothes were beautiful. Besides, it was like seeing a bunch of ants growing in a hill, working together and learning how to navigate over their complex environment similar to the roots of trees. Apart from this, his eyes were colorful, as nature, light, and various shades and tints of the mixtures of the environment reflected in an askew manner in them. To end, his posture was like a marble statue, its body extending and curling with sense of finesse, each bend a unique complicated structure full of expressionist equity.

Notch saw all the beauty, because he couldn't accept the idea of death, even if he saw and heard it. In his heart, he never knew death, because death was just a word and something people said as part of expressions and speeches. Here, death was real like a friend one tussled with about which weapon was the best. Here, it was like talking to a friend at a dinner and hearing about how his father left. Here, it was like seeing Maverick get clawed by beasts, because it was.

It was reality.

In response to Maverick's death, the boys turned their shock, terror, and grief into physicality, slamming their fists, arms, and legs against the ground and each other, continually pressing on against each other in a violent embrace. With a quiet muffled wretched expression, they stuck to the darkness and kept their voices hidden. But it was like holding in the pressure of the earth. Here, the mountains and earthquakes magnified their struggle. From dust to dust, from life to life, from heart to heart, they were like ancient celestial beings full of light in their grief: since their grief was rare and fresh, it was priceless. With their struggling, twisting, and beating, they became the epitome of their selves, beating one step closer out of their boxes, out of their rooms, and into the divine light—power, agency, control, rage, freedom, and standing up instead of staring and standing still away from helplessness, humiliation, and unpredictability. In the long term, like tossing ships, they trudged, castrating themselves until they rendered this earth to their domain.

In the meantime, the task master pointed and returned alongside several other stronger task masters who stunned the beasts with magic from magic wands.

In the end, the beasts ran into flight, tredding like rabbits looking to cut time short, which left behind the loss of the laborers: a very disappointing result for the task masters, especially Sprutnoa, who stood in a lonely, forlorn manner in the distance.

On a more calculated note, Notch and the boys wanted to hide, since Maverick, their patron, was already dead. His memories turned to swine guts, and time was still ticking for the swap to happen. In their mind, they were already swapping with each other. They had imprinted this visualization in their mind that it still rung true now. They didn't know what to do, as the screams from the attack mingled with these images like a soggy shoed foot stamping a brisky pond.

Shifting to what the boys had to say about this, one of the boys, Billy, had this to say: "How are we going to get this done? We need to just move on somehow. And it really doesn't make sense. I don't even understand what I'm supposed to be doing here. Ah, I see. This entire thing, this entire operation was a frickin' joke. We've been bamboozled. I think we're fricked over. This is it, I think. I cannot believe I spent all this time just to lose everything. I cannot believe I even tried, no joke. I feel like I've completely lost the sense of every single piecily little bitty nitty pork beef thing. I don't know! I am absolutely stuck. I am rolling in, in, in the mud. I am falling, falling, like an unable-to-be-perfect person. Nah, not a... Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. I... Ah, what the f— I'm done. I am absolutely done, man. This is a big joke. Okay? Hahahaha. It's let's go! Yoohoo! Yahoo! Alright. I am done. I am, I am done." He began to chuckle and laugh.

"In the end, I am an absolute gobsmack."

Transitioning to the rational side of this event, the plan that involved a complex swapping in order for Maverick to avoid working too hard became useless. They could only rely on themselves now to navigate this complex situation and return to their normal lives. So, they stood up and walked away, since the task masters were clearly ignorant of their existence in this rare, unfortunate incident.

In terms of aesthestic, the sound of fresh rain filled the air, as the task masters drank from their pouches. Moreover, the morning shed light on the beasts that merely wanted a meal. Finally, the freshness of sunlight and rain accompanied the sense that it was the the heavens that dripped large buckets of water into the clouds.

Returning to the boys, they arrived at the city, their home, before anything else traumatic happened to them—their figures dissipating into the great city.

In conclusion to their first day, they learned about the dangers of accepting favors from even the most confident strangers, as Maverick looked very suave to them when he approached. Indeed, it was like meeting a prince from a faraway land. As mentioned earlier, they would castrate themselves until they rendered the earth to their domain, whether philosophical, literal, or both. As for the problem of this statement, they would change and grow overtime alongside their ambition, meaning that they would be forced to be still due to how big they were getting, which just wasn't possible. In the end, they were not going to keep a mask or veneer on or pretend and lie to themselves forever. Sooner or later, they would move forward, taking the buildings with them. If murder, then murder. If love, then love. If sky, then sky.

He would become everything.

Earlier, Notch stared at the grass next to Sprutnoa, revealing himself as a deputy for Maverick.

Sprutnoa looked at him. "Why are you here?" His voice was small, light, and all the beautiful things. But it was faint, carrying a burden anyone could carry, but no could admit. He was a masculine person.

Notch smiled faintly before he said, "I want to ask you what it feels like?" He was referring to something distinct only to him; in the end, it was something only he could answer.

Inevitably, Sprutnoa shook his head as if dismissing something he was about to say before he frowned with grief. "I... tried." He sounded high-pitched there for a moment, reflecting his sense of futility. "I did. I really did. It's funny." He laughed as he spoke. What he meant by "funny" was that it was almost so depressing that it almost felt like a big joke that he tried in the first place. "Because it's everything that I am not. I am not everything that I want to be. For now, I am utterly normal. That's the point. I want to remind you this is all a part of the game. This is all a part of life, and if you think it's hard, it is. It's just that nothing's going to make sense. You have to keep going, and I know that it's difficult. Maverick. I don't know if he's close to you. I'm not going to... pretend. I just have to tell you right now that you deserve someone. You deserve friends. Tell me how great they are because I remember so many things about people. I remember when Maverick hit me with a magical artifact, and it was an accident. And of course, it was... well... it was broken. But I didn't care about it. I was just having fun because we were just doing our best. He was a good worker. Or laborer. And I can't say anything else to do because he didn't say anything else but that. You know, the working thing. It's everything that I know about him. I wonder though because I have a big life. Did he... with everything that happened... Did he do anything that he liked?" After seeing the confusion in Notch's face, he continued: "Did he... What did he feel?"

He continued as if he was responding to himself: "I don't know. I don't know.

"I will never know." In the past, he would often hide his feelings and mince his words, he had lived too long in a relatively short amount of time, making him self-fulfilled at a younger age than most, giving him lots of time to explore his newfound self-fulfillment, skill, and confidence.

Notch merely listened, but he learned a lot. Moreover, with Sprutnoa's help, he helped his two new friends tentatively and preliminarily move on from the event.

The reason he met Sprutnoa was because he stayed there in the vicinity of Maverick and the task masters for a while alongside the other two boys with him, inspired by the way the task masters dealt with the beasts and shocked at Maverick and the other laborers' deaths. After the task masters allowed them to leave, that was when they all went home... What was it again?

Chapter 3 - The Marchacha Goblin Assault
In the end, on day two, the morning arose, and Billy, who was one of the two boys with Notch, was shaking like an abandoned forest, too terrified even to go outside. But his father forced him, making him get jobs in the street.

Today, Notch, Billy, and the other boy, Shadrach, were together fortunately, as the job they got needed four. As for the fourth one with them, she was a taller, armored woman with a bamboo hat inlaid with metal. This woman looked like one of those knights from stories, but she looked too bitter for that. Her face was like a cacophony of dogs tearing out flesh from a variety of discarded receptacles on the ground.

In this world, they were heading to the cave to which Maverick would carry bags, but even if Billy was scared, the woman's presence was like a guiding light. She would have been attractive too, if it was not for her terrifying resting face.

In short, Notch, Billy, and Shadrach, three comrades, joined the armored woman.

When they arrived at the cave, the glasses-wearing, frizzled-hair, plump, suit-wearing man who hired all four of them began to speak with a stutter at first: "You guys... I wanted to motivate you guys by telling you about the history of this place, but you guys seem motivated enough. So I'll summarize the plan quickly."

In brief, Notch, Billy, Shadrach, and the armored woman joined the man who hired them.

The man continued: "Now, when it comes to preventing goblins from digging up holes as the miners mine, you're going to have to use these potions.

"Now, they're not dangerous on their own. But too much outside air, and they explode.

"Don't worry, it's not too big, but the point is they're good for scaring away goblins.

"I don't know exactly why, but I know they have a history..."

He saw what he thought were bored expressions from the four. "Nevermind, okay, go on ahead now. I'll lead the way."

He walked and gestured to several differect sections, showing the complex system that they had created over the course of two years. It required intensive care and maintenance to prevent cave collapse.

As for the workers, he usually just remarked that they should buy healing potions from the market. He was practically ignorant about the rapidly changing prices due to how unpredictable adventurers tended to be, as they were a predominant demographic when it came to potion stock.

But his business worked well with his approach, so he often showed a "don't break it if it ain't broken" attitude when questioned.

Now that the four knew what to do, they ignored the departure of the man who hired them and headed toward searching for sudden changes of color in the wall, as the goblins tended to use magical tools that made the walls greenish in order to make pores.

The sound of mining in the background soothed them, even though they were loud. Billy, Notch, and Shadrach enjoyed the noise, because the city was often much louder, making this mining noise like a calming whisper to them.

"Just like that, okay?" said Billy, catching the attention of the two other morning-fatigued boys. "We've finally completed the job. Just need to completely obliterate everything." He was being metaphorical. "I am genuinely going to complete like a frickin' quest. This is actual adventurer activity, no joke. Rambling on, taking on, fighting on like a soldier or something. That crazy kind. Everybody knows that that's the best world... in the world. It's like wonderful, joyous, amazing... Yeah!"

Notch laughed, saying: "Are you serious? Just follow Shadrach's lead. We can finish this in a short time."

Shadrach nodded and said: "Yeah, yeah, I can completely get this done. Just follow my lead, yeah. That's great." He hummed in thought. "We can talk to the goblins. That's, that's a good idea." He said while laughing, "Let's see what they have to say.

"I don't know if this is going to work out though. Very not perfection."

He wondered if the miners had anything interesting to say, but he dismissed them as being too physically inclined, always thinking about the same repetitive routine like a bunch of robotic golems.

Though, Billy challenged him on that and mentioned that miners often liked to work out, which was why they became miners to show their passion.

Notch added context that the miners often forgot the working out and just became absent-minded for their job.

Their discussion involved not only the miners and the goblins but also how they were going to fare when the goblins did come.

Now, at the moment, the goblins were behind the walls, but they were busy listening to what the boys had to say, as they often only heard the pickaxe of miners hitting the cave walls.

In essence, the goblins were in the same cave network barely out of sight.

Anyway, any interesting development in the conversation of the boys gave them pause.

If they could find out how the humans were able to mine so well, they would be able to harness the means to destroying the mining operation once and for all, freeing themselves from what they saw as the tyranny of the human species.

Their great ideals contrasted the comfort in the voices of the boys and the woman, who were busy achieving some level of cooperation after the woman decided to greet them and ask how they day was.

The woman's face mimicked two golden orbs flashing around in a circle with the way she relocated her head from spot to spot during her conversation with the boys like a dynamic blobfish—poofy, exquisitely majestic like an apple served with sauce, or fragrant so tangibly that it sought to devour the teeth and then be devoured in kind like a pop of spectacular niceties jumbled up into a beauty. Second, her voice was like morning dew, tender yet supple enough to cultivate the tastes, memorable and quintessential to the essence of a regular person. Three, the sounds of her throat danced to the tune of an empty stomach being breaded with rice. Four, her groans were calmly lit on rousing clouds, as she plowed around to prepare herself somehow, utilizing her mother's technique of preparatory walking.

Moving on to a more physically commanding note, more than walking, the technique intensified her whole body due to the way she squatted while walking or attempted postures that stimulated her flexibility and cadence in posture adjustment. As a second point, it was tentative, pushing through, swallowing the flow, and engaging the highlighted muscles, treading the path, sewing each muscle tight into that like a bundle. Lastly, her exercise was developmental and bridged her transition from the moments to the soaring in the combatant realm.

It was like shadows or ghosts moving, since her gestures were often marked with a sense of elegance; any of this sense looked like celestial clarity to the boys, considering the weight of a noble compared to a peasant.

Meanwhile, movements in the goblins were that of recording the conversations like skilled laborers in a time of heated conflict between two companies. Second, their fine motor skills were eclectic, as they wielded several kinds of pens for several different fonts, typefaces, and sizes in contribution to the visual hierarchy wetting their documents. Third, they reimagined majestic magicians in the way they forged their notes of wisdom, like goddesses of light who brought clarity to the deathly throes, and like the gracious movements of soldiers in a bitter battle to the end.

Following the initial, transient phase of their plan, they achieved a sense of enlightenment, because they were ready. With a delighted gurgle-like giggle, they injecting their weapons into the wall. In the silence that succeeded, the whirring of the machines emerged, which came before the cracking of the walls.

As the whirring began to sound across the wall, dropping a few drops of attention in the place where the boys, the woman, and the miners lounged and worked, they meditated in all its variety and nuances that had no fighting place in the intimate heat of the war.

For a few seconds, they were going to deny fear and the weaknesses of their past.

But now that they thought about it, it had all been leading here, out on the highway, Multa—born and raised, born and raised.

Immediately, the wall collapsed, running from the structure of the cave, and accompanying it were the goblin figures.

With the agency of their hands, more holes opened, and spears flew out in snake-like forms.

Before the goblins could adjust to the light sources in the cave, the miners ran, while the boys tried to steadied themselves first before joining the miners in their flight to the exit.

Subsequently, screams and cries were enough to signal to the goblins that they could begin the next phase of their plan.

In finality, they let them leave, as they were busy picking up the pickaxes and studying their material. With the high marksmanship of a sneeze, words fell upon notepads. Due to the swirl of the words, notepads piled up like just cooked red rice at a marketplace. Shifting to a tasty vein, they moved like flavors in a sauce in the tongue of the consumer, grace gracing the tip of their records.

Meanwhile, the boys scattered, their arms shaking, the woman keeping them from leaving completely.

A moment was required to complete their study of the mining operation before they fled backward, leaving holed walls in their wake.

The man who hired them was stomping toward the boys and the woman, moving closer and closer, furious.

Since the goblins trespassed aggressively, several issues were flaring.

"What happened?" the man who hired them said, his breath hot. "I don't get it," he said impatiently.

"I'm sorry—" said the woman, who let go of the boys and stood straight ahead of them and in front of the man.

"Come on, please... May I understand what the hell in the world is going on!" the man said politely but with a louder voice.

"I saw the goblins, I, I, I... not just me but—"

"The potions, the potions!"

"Definitely—"

"I gave you the potions, man!" The man raised his arm as if he was about to toss it to the ground when he recognized the holes. "These were the Marchacha goblins. Like seriously! Come on!"

In the meantime, a loud muffled boom in the distance from the direction of the holes bewildered them, making them cock their heads.

An air of frustration began to sweep over them, and they regained that spunk they lost from how masterful the Marchacha goblins operated.

The voices of the miners began to take prominence, a wind of fervor, a song of targeted glory.

"What the hell!"

"Yeah, what the hell is this!"

"We can't have this!"

"Oh, no, we can't!"

"Take them down!"

"This ain't right!"

From a emotional perspective, the miners were no longer going to sit still and watch. They were going to do something this time. They were not losers, lost causes, or too weak. They were everything that these goblins could not perceive. They were just getting ready to march.

From a rational vantage point, they knew they felt humiliated, and they identified their desire to throw themselves at the goblins and see what ordinary hands could do to something fragile. But they were fathers, gentlemen, and country men, not brutal, self-sacrificing, benumbed militants in a war.

In the end, they stomped over the broken glass of the potions that fell to the ground during the goblins' scare, signaling their desire to press forward in the world.

On the side, Billy, Notch, and Shadrach stared at the miners, while the armored woman with them followed their lead.

"We badly need a plan..." said a voice. On top of this, it was more piercing than the other relevant voices in the joinery of miners.

Moving on to the larger scale, the miners gathered together and formed a vulnerable circle.

In the circle, the leader of their mining operation, the man who hired the boys and the woman, Leroy, tied their perceptions together.

"Okay, seriously guys," Leroy said, "with everything that's going on. Like, you two, three. I know you guys are awesome, and I really think you guys matter. And yeah, but...

"Whatever. I hired you guys for a 'simple' job, but today, the Marchacha goblins have struck outside of our expectations."

"I hope... I really do hope we can continue to get this done—everything," he continued with his teeth closed, making a firm, strict tone, "considering that my job involves managing overall operations."

He raised his purple necklace politely to show his wealth matter-of-factly to emphasize his point, snickering politely.

"According to what you guys saw earlier, do you think it's possible that this entire operation is possible for the people in front of me right now."

He chuckled playfully as he spoke, "What I'm trying to say is that can you take it?"

"Okay, we can try that," the woman interjected, glancing at the boys expectantly. "That's a yes."

Next to the woman, the boys looked at each other, only thinking that this situation could only get worse. With their thoughts in a good place, they decided that being together was better. Furthermore, after their fiasco with Maverick's job, working together was the reason they gave to themslves and each other for still being alive.

With a clap, they agreed to the plan.

Now that the arrangements felt natural to everyone, they all moved to their places and begun to engage in productive ways of dealing with the attack. One, they fixed and filled holes. Two, they collected and piled up the pickaxes in case of a sudden attack during their little fix-up. Three, they moved several fortifications toward areas where the goblins were expected to attack. To conclude, it was a very short but intense introductory period of their journey.

With a huff, they exclaimed that it was very easy when they were done.

In the background, several event organization coordinators from various districts were concerned regarding the arrival of the Marchacha goblins, so they contacted the most relevant victim of the event, Leroy.

Nonetheless, news travelled quickly, and soon, everyone in the city knew about the attack of the goblins.

Delving into the historical aspects, firstly, the district where the attack occurred was situated on a large mountain where a flourishing forest crawled down the hill from the montane woodlands to the rich volcanic soil of the valleys. Secondly, the valleys were under the control of the city, but the district held highest control. Thirdly, since these valleys were precious relative to the rest of the city region, the district was also a highly regarded one. As for why these reasons mattered, the idea of interlopers disrupting the supply chain on the aforementioned regional geopolitics by introducing guerilla forces in various isolated areas was concerning to the various entities within the city and its vastness.

Moreover, the relevance of the issue compelled adventurers to run on foot and horseback to get to the district first because much of the predicted activity of concern was now central there.

In response to the attack, people of all age groups were astounded.

One, kids saw texts that referenced goblins. Moreover, they were listening to stories of goblins all over again, as the stories of goblins faded recently before the attack. In conclusion, kids were being educated in the principles of goblin strategy, as they were expected to replace the civilians of tomorrow.

Two, teenagers were associating goblins with thoughts of their place in the world. Additionally, they were already on their way to enlist in jobs near the site of concern because of how lucrative they expected it to get. Thirdly, this was mostly the opportunists who were doing it. Ultimately, more than half of the teenagers were content to sit back and wait until a second attack before stepping out of their comfort zone.

Finally, the clammoring at various social spots and discussions the implications of such an event by adults of various ages from those in their twenties to those in their eighties came through various modes of communication and its subsets, styles.

Shifting to the perpetrators in the attack, they were busy in their thoughts. As goblins, they minded the other species in the region, who each managed an unspoken portion in the region. If they dared intrude without asking for permission first, they would get colluded against. In the end, they were meager attackers who only relied on the division between miners and adventurers through their shared dislike of each other in order to explore the means of the humans more.

Moving on to the everyday, Billy couldn't help but ask the human woman if she was a goblin because of the way her face looked.

With a squint, the woman reprimanded him, but she chose courteous words, picking out formal options to refrain from harming the poor kid's already faltering confidence: "Such as it that asking me that question might impinge upon my ability to act effectively. That you said that was an offense that I am unwilling to take as agreeable. Rather, it is crucial to delight in much more indirect means of alerting me regarding my appearance. That is all."

In simple terms, she said that he should do two things: avoid asking that question since it was offensive and be more indirect when it comes to alerting her about her looks.

Since Billy was too confused, he forwent answering her. Subsequently, he slipped into the conversation between Notch and Shadrach: "Right? It was this way after all!"

To avoid humiliation, the woman introduced herself, "I am Millie like the hands of the a mill." On a more common note, this was a typical gesture, a sprinkle of everyday humor.

In the meantime, proceeding in the mines, the miners began to slow down, while time ticked into nighttime. Here, the torches showed their greatest strength: preventing the night from swallowing mankind.

In a more frantic vein, a scream, a wail, and a moment's embrace was all enough to explain the horrors of the night.

From the depths of the dark lucidity of the forest, monsters took their forms and snatched them into their bodies, making moves.

Before they fell away into their darkest darkness, they seized definition and climbed up the ranks to existence, marking their throng gathering. In this throng, shadows wielded axes of death, swords of heavenly abandon—the kinds that murdered for justice that had little basis—and the whitest eyes.

Across the gap between light and darkness, several adventurers stood. In a state of meditation, they faced the depth of the forest on a headland, the middle of their swords reflecting the light of the sun.

Transitioning to the memory of friendship, these adventurers stood at the horizon where the earth below symbolized the past.

In reality, they began the fight between them and monsters that occurred in seconds.

On the first second, they moved swiftly, making an arc with the tip of their blades, like a dragon knight craving justice. A burst of color flew from a zombie, as hundreds of skeletons directed their aim.

Beauty was painful.

On the second second, a volley of arrows flew, as tens of magic shields appeared, swallowing the adventurers whole and embracing them, preventing them from death.

Beauty turned someone into a desperate frustrated struggle to appreciate it.

One rock from a sling, a highly challenging ranged weapon, crushed a zombie in one hit.

On the third second, timely explosion in the zombies due to accidental contact between an explosive skeleton and a fiery zombie was enough for the adventurers to put down their shields and fight.

Beauty made someone enraged at the thought of someone not feeling the same feeling and living in a world without it.

During the next minute, a war raged, as hundreds of adventurers charged in unison. Tens of them flew forward with temporary flight, as swords flew with their owners riding them. It was a journey of everlasting grace, and when it ended, the zombies met fire, water, ice, and all sorts of magic. The blades, first and foremost, cast blood straight from the confines of their skin, providing them passages whence red rushed like screaming onions.

Incidentally, a man wearing a mask stood at the horizon making a portal in the middle of the battle and teleporting away, reaching out and taking the souls of the adventurers who died.

In his head, he wanted to ensure that he collected enough souls to fill up a completion gauge that indicated the progress toward a certain spell of his. Ultimately, he was a very complex person with a very complicated set of skills and influence.

Returning to reality and the battlefield, for several seconds, a magical blade of glory arrived amidst the sea of adventurers, marking itself as a glowing object. It shone, and the sea of lights all looked dim in its presence. It belonged to a strong marcher, slashing and tossing aside a coalescing of mobs.

In a moment, several mobs grabbed several adventurers.

Before a break could intervene, bursts of cries sang.

In the distance, in a flank, an adventurer fell to the ground and hit his head badly.

From the main grouping, several adventurers magically swiftly removed themselves from a wall of defence to save this adventurer.

Meanwhile, the line of defence was cracking, as adventurers were getting pushed back.

In another flank, several adventurers fell to the ground, as they were pulled away by trolls, whose arms weighed more than enough to crush a steadfast wagon.

In several seconds, the trolls smashed them and focused on satisfying their hunger, crunching men like steak.

Abruptly, these men had only a few seconds where they could remember their lives, unfortunately forgetting their favorite things since their childhood. Before they could remember, they laughed at how ridiculous their situation was, notably considering that, rather than crying, it was better to go out laughing. It was cold, they was tired, and it was raining. They had hardly spoken to my family and wondered how things were at home. Their cool gear suddenly felt like a costume, and they despised the idea of war more than ever; the false bravado presented itself all around them. Yet, they still knew somebody had to stand up and do the job because humanity was deeply flawed. They would always fight. With a final crunch, they exploded under the weight of raw power.

With their feet following a serpentine pattern, the trolls fled victoriously, while the adventurers scrambled for footing in the fight, exasperated.

The joining of the trolls with the encompassing shadow of the forest signified their exit.

Frustrated, the adventurers groaned and devotedly healed themselves, as potions fell.

Meanwhile, the 'brrrrt' sound of magic inspired them, returning a significant portion of their energy through: a morale boost and a lifesaver.

With that said, monsters flew backward or to the ground on impact with long-ranged magic, while magic shields and physical shields took the brunt of the monsters' ranged attacks.

Bringing up to an elevated level, the moonlight, coupled with the clouds, sectioned through the mobs, as adventurers and monsters embraced each other in a slaughter.

Moving back to the ground, the monsters were falling bit by bit.

"No, no, no!" went the monsters with the blades.

"Argh! Argh Argh!" The monsters could only hold so long.

"Shee! Shee! Shee!" Even the ghostly figures turned to something distant like smog.

Transitioning to the overall level, the monsters and the adventurers were in a constant war, but rather than a full-fledged war, it was like hide and seek in an abstract expressionist art of terrain.

In conclusion, the goblin attack was more than just an isolated incident, and the most relevant people—Notch, Shadrach, Millie, Billy, Leroy, and his miners—were a part of it. This would all come together, including monsters, adventurers, and everyday people of all age groups.

Chapter 4 - The Adventurers' Incursion: Chaos Unleashed
On the other side of the coin, the next morning greeted Notch, Shadrach, Millie, and Billy with a soft whisper: "Wake up!"

It was day 3, which was 72 hours, 4,320 minutes, or 259,200 seconds.

The "Wake up!" voice belonged to the mining operation leader, Leroy. His smile was almost blinding: he knew that he finally found his most loyal members.

He was sure that anyone he could feed his delicious food and accomodate in terms of housing had the potential to become loyal trustees of a wide range of tasks, roles, and situations.

Lying and embracing each other on the futon-like bed on the floor, the brothers were surprised to see the woman lying with her head directly on the floor with zero bedding.

After a short discussion about bedding and comfort, everyone returned to the mining operation site.

Even though Leroy looked tired, he was poised to address issues where applicable, serving like a task master toward his miners without the detention and whipping. To address safety concerns, he regularly hired guards for himself. Though, he would rather rely on his instincts whether to hire or not. So, he sometimes forwent having guards. When he did have guards, he made sure they were hiding somewhere nearby. This made it so that anyone who dared approached him approached him with the risk of having their life cut short. This risk was why the woman was particular about physically stepping carefully and being generally ladylike toward her co-workers, peers, and bosses, especially the aged businessman in a cautiously isolated field of work. In other words, Leroy was likely seasoned in dealing with matters related to self-defence, confrontation, and rebellion.

His expression, despite calm and almost like a man with a wife and six kids, made the aforementioned woman stop walking when he glanced at her wrinkles in a curious but overall courteous manner.

From Leroy's perspective, ten hundred steps was enough for him to engage his leg muscles, as he was constantly in need of exercise due to his age. If he wanted to become stronger, he would have to work more times as hard compared to someone as young as Millie who was still in her twenties. In the end, he could only walk so far before he started using an adjutant to handle orders and information. He already knew how crucial it was to handle things far away from the site, so he returned home and relied on just his words and his trust in his reliable adjutants to communicate information effectively.

Now that Leroy was absent, Millie relaxed, concentrating on the boys again, who were offering suggestions for their appearances. The boys were wondering whether a red tunic of the task master they saw yesterday was an excellent choice for looking cool. After all, they were still boys aged 13, 14, and 18. Billy was the one aged 18 ironically.

By the time they finished their discussion, the miners took a break, sitting weirdly with their feet on their seats, massaging between their toes like a bunch of hobos. They almost looked like kings in their personal homes, which made Shadrach approach and interface them, with the other two boys and Millie sauntering closely behind.

While Shadrach did his new thing, Leroy was busy lounging in his small but serviceable home, taking a deep breath. Meanwhile, he was adjacent to his wife, who was busy sitting down on a chair and sleeping.

Speaking of their relationship, they were very intimate with each other in an almost inextricable way, as in intimate even without constant romantic expressions.

Meanwhile, Leroy was also very attentive to the bell noise hanging outside his window because that was the signal that his messengers used.

When the bell rung, a message line ran all the way through the city, into the wilderness, and to the mining operation site. There, the message, like an explosion, rippled across the miners, as they gathered in various spots and targeted certain spots for maximum efficacy. As for why changing spots was even necessary, the cave was confusing, similar to a beast that kept moving around because it was full of unknowns. Anytime it seemed that a certain part of it was defenceless, effort was spent into ensuring that that this part was assaulted. However, the beast constantly changed and moved, and all its unknowns seemed to lie as well, making up falsehoods to the frustration of miners. This was why it was essential that the miners were flexible in their focus.

This was why it was crucial for direction, and Leroy was the man for the job.

The job felt a sense of fulfillment at the end of morning and the start of the afternoon.

The smell of tropical heat flew like colorful flowers in the wind or like a spring that chokes out the negative energies of a person. So the miners moved outside to get some shade and air, as their throats were already itching at their limits.

A cacophony of coughs marked the start of their break, as they could finally express in some way their struggle and effort.

Shadrach was most elucidated by this complexity, as he was most concentrated. But the heat said enough to declare to the other two boys and Millie that this was painstaking. With enough cloth to wrap and cover their heads, the miners easily inspired the boys to do the same, sharing a moment of cultural connection.

Because of the weight of this complexity and the heat, Shadrach felt that he was disappearing and re-assembling himself constantly.

Because it was a struggle, he was failing to re-assemble himself, often repeating the whole process.

After what felt like an hour, he woke up and found himself alone in the middle of the forest in front of the entrance to the mining operation site.

He bolted inside, noticing Millie strutting behind him in the distance outside.

Behind her, an army of adventurers were clammoring, raising their voices.

"We did it!"

"Let's go!"

"Alright!"

With the way they jumped around, walked, and raised their voices, they were like wasps misidentifying the unique patterns on the faces of fellow colony members and preparing to charge them.

It was a gathering of various adventurer parties, but the problem was that they were planning to enter the caves and locate the goblins there. This was very risky, but the adventurers knew that the goblins were "nasty raiders," or so the officials said.

The hype that the goblin attack garnered looked excessive, only serving to waste the money of the contractors of the adventurers. Yet, the contractors were sure that this was a good opportunity to strike.

So the adventurers forced their way into the mining operation site to find the goblins through the holes they made. The problem was that the holes were already filled up, so the adventurers decided to move away fortifications. If they were too stuck, they broke them apart. They were going to create holes just to find the goblins. This was like soldiers occupying houses during an enemy siege.

The adventurers truly loved the chaos they brought, even smirking and swaggering in the faces of the miners. Most of them were adults, yet they acted like reckless teenagers with lots of money to waste.

When one of the miners advanced to speak up, they fortunately only blocked him. It could have evolved into that of the outspoken laborer during Maverick's plan with the boys.

Shifting to the political and social realm, many loudmouth adventurers regarded laborers like villager miners, traders, and farmers as zombies who waste their time working menial jobs because they're too afraid to take risks and succeed, seeing them as ambitionless losers.

Pivoting to a more complex level, a fantastical magical society put magic and magic-related resources such as potions, skills, tamed monsters, and enchanted equipment into the hands of users without specialized magic or even technical knowledge, thereby empowering these individuals with the benefits and opportunities of the technology. This resulted in brazenness and the ability to act violently on impulses, both of which would be otherwise absent.

Bringing it down to a miner detachment's perspective, they offered to guide the adventurers for a price, and many adventurers accepted. But these adventurers paid multiple times over instead of choosing to haggle for a lower price. They cared too much about appearances to benefit without paying, so they secretly arranged for other adventurers to benefit while forgoing payment by just telling them to follow those who did pay. This was contradictory behavior in the eyes of the miners, who already expected the adventurers to do the secret arrangement. This was a sign of the complex ways people interact and cause misunderstandings due to ignorance, being impromptu, apathy, callousness, and maintaining a certain image, among others.

However, the miners had little confidence in exploring the caves themselves, so the adventurers served as a more ignorant comparison that distracted from the miners' infinitesimal analytical knowledge of the caves. So this was a lucrative deal for the miners built on convincing presentation.

Finally, the miners put little effort and already managed to uphold the confirmation to their boss that they were valuable members.

While they traversed the cave, Billy, Shadrach, Millie, and Notch watched the miners who remained fix the fortifications that the adventurers broke.

Meanwhile, the loose army of adventurers quadrisected themselves. Afterwards, they trisected themselves and bisected recusively until their smallest units consisted of two individuals at least.

Investigating their skill set, they unleashed themselves in an structured and organized matter. One division consisted of powerful artillery units who utilized specialized intensive magic that relied on gathered intelligence in order to hit targets. Namely, these included magic like [Choke], which relied on aligning very loose and hard-to-control particles. This makes it a specialty of users who have devoted years of effort into learning how to control these particles to form in a way that allows for [Choke] to occur. So often times, the users of this magic stay far away and rely on information to launch precise attacks, since they had to release control of their bodies to concentrate on their magic. In conclusion, they cradled precision and control as hard as they could.

Turning to something grim, the monsters imagined themselves as children frolicking in the sunset, their hideous expressions replacing that of children. They wanted to be free, but what was known to be great and happy was not something that their faces and body could ever adorn. They were stuck in a shield of soon-to-be-bodies.

What felt like hundreds of pain and suffering became turned to dust, the meaning of their lives soiled like wet rags in a desert mound. "Too late," said a cracking voice in it. If rage could speak, it would embrace them.

Once the cave turned into hellfire, the monsters were thrown to one corner, their eyes and faces full of fear, trembling with their hands on their knees and their arms adjacent to their bodies. Lying next to a body, one of them imagined a bird flowing through the air and waving the tip of its wings with a fresh smell of cinammon and spices before he, too, passed from the river of life.

"It's only natural," said monster scouts hiding in a cavity in the cave, the owners of these smiles, in a sarcastic tone. "This is what you deserve." Instead of standing up for their monster brothers and sisters, they beat their self-respect to a pulp, threw chairs at it, bit it apart limb by limb, flooded it with their tears, and screamed at it in confusion before they escaped, letting the adventurers keep getting away with it. Maybe, they also felt that they, as monsters, did deserve to die because they were too weak to stand up for themselves and do something instead of watching their siblings suffer helplessly and cry and beg under the oppression of those hypocrites who preached goodness and moral maturity. Indeed, there was no way that monsters deserved to die. Ultimately, they would prepare to enlighten the humans to overthrow the adventurers.

Scrutinizing the social divide between monsters, the affluent monsters dared oppress and mock the poor, washing their hands with their the liquid they use to wash their bright faces of purity, incessantly complaining about whether the path where tens of thousands travelled and where they arbitrarily walked was perfectly even and tailored to their individual wants. Even so, they dared behave like lapdogs toward the humans who treated them as inferiors. They hated their own people. How dare they? The worst part about them was how out of touch they were with what was normal.

As a final consideration, the monsters would represent an all-consuming fire. Then, they would be condemned by people who spent an everyday laborer's year's wages on toys.

From the perspective of the adventurers, these monsters included fresh "batbogs", delicious "danderlions", and delicate "eye-singers". But the Marchacha goblins were absent from what these adventurers could see.

As a counterpoint to the monster scouts' social commentary, the adventurers had to protect humans, even with all the issues. It was either the monsters or the humans. Sure, humans could be evil, but that didn't make monsters innocent. If the monsters were the one on top, they would be doing the same if not worse. A compromise between monsters and humans would only be possible if monsters could centralize and stop each other from killing humans. Humans were doing everything they could to safeguard the safety, which often was the status quo, losing many honorable adventurers in the process. It was up to very awesome people to advance the human race beyond the status quo. In sum, the adventurers' job was maintaining stability and, by extension, the safety of people living slow, comfortable lives rather than disjointed, erratic ones.

All in good fun, whether for trolls or adventurers, the exertion of power was just that simple.

Chapter 5 - Echoes of Formative Days: A Prelude to Labor and Leadership
Viewed through a poetic lens, the eye-singers flew like angels in the sky, pulling apart and down golden strings of heavenly honor floating in zero gravity. They were like singers at a choir, wafting humanizing elements into the hearts of tied, stuck gray figures symbolizing humankind.

Moving on to the monsters' physical elements, the eye-singers were birds whose chirps made eyes burn.

Two, the danderlions were tall bipedal beasts like trolls but with flowers and grass growing all over them at fast rates to the point that they often woke up in a great pile of vegetation if other animals didn't clean the vegetation off them.

Three, the batbogs were toed bats with wings that they used as extra prehensile appendages.

Finally, the dynamic between these monsters was that of a reliance on the magical qualities of the lushness inside the cave. Sunlight and oxygen entered the cave through magical means, and air was magically clean and fresh. Rather than being cramped and static, the cave diversified magically and naturally, resulting expansions and contractions of earth everywhere in varying degrees of influence.

Shifting focus to the moment, the adventurers stood around, sharing lots of conversations in various groups, many people cross-talking.

One conversation involved four siblings and eight friends with a median age of 12 years old. As part of an adventurer group, they were forced to carry sacks in the journey. Exploring these sacks, they contained rocks, tools, monsters or their flesh, mana stones, spare gear and equipment, and many other items. Advancing to a more functional level, they helped with many menial tasks such as stacking items, buying food and other expendable resources, and moving and cleaning large magical artifacts, gears, and equipment by hand. Simultaneously, they traveled long distances uphill, through urban streets and rough terrain, and downhill on surefooted foot. In essence, these preteens and teenagers were in the heart of their formative stages, only evolving in their collaborative, cognitive, and physical competence overtime.

On a more inclusive note, they were the blueprint for the great horror of becoming a powerful adult full of great influence. Yet, their potentials extended wider, uniquely, comprehensively, and into more specializations.

Speaking of potential, not knowing who they were, they would do what they couldn't do, becoming more than they were now, envisioning greatness more than they could see. Great power awaited them, power beyond anything they could imagine.

Returning to their conversation, it was lively and amicable.

"I only have—I'm poor. I only have sixty-five pesos.

"To unbox a chest and earn godly weapons."

"Hi."

"Oh my gosh, who's that, who's that, who's that!"

"Oh my goodness."

"You'll never get it."

"I heard eye, I heard eye, I heard eye."

"It's, it's, it's, it's the... it's the guy. It's the guy with the red and black checkered shirt and paper hat as a head. Doglist, man, doglist. Why are they flying?"

"That? That? That?"

Many conversations like this went on and on for hours. This was normal due to the adventurers' close-knit setting. This was despite the fact that adventurers could die. With that said, close-knit conversations like this never made sense outside context, and the amount of inside jokes here was so deep that even the people involved sometimes forgot the context and found it funny anyway.

Revisiting the monsters and the magical lush cave, they made the adventurers that much more systematic, methodical, and rigorous in their behavior when facing the cave environment, which contrasted with their irreverent personalities in everyday environments. Moreover, since the cave was very dark and had dangerous terrain, the adventurers were using light magic to maintain their eyes' habituation to the sunlight and clear up the darkness.

One of the monsters stopped in front of the adventurers innocently, presenting an opportunity for one adventurer group to intervene and help, despite the fact that the adventurers violently intruded into their natural habitat.

This interaction was in line with the adventurers' goals of preparing and entering fiercely and then relaxing afterwards. So whatever happened was the adventurer parties either leaving the cave, exploring it, resting inside and having a picnic, and standing around and waiting for other groups to leave alongside them, among others. The adventurers showed great flexibility even in large groups, but that was partly because their military strength was excessive.

Meanwhile, the boys and Millie were waiting patiently, taking a backseat, as the miners stopped their operations in case of an incident involving the adventurers.

Even though the fortifications were still broken and only patched up with the limited skills of the miners, they were satisfied.

As soon as the adventurer groups began to leave and the miners who guided the adventurers and the miners who stayed reunited, it was already night.

Millie was glad that today was slow, because she needed to be there to help fight monsters in the night. So she retired and said goodbye to the boys, which left the boys disappointed and lost.

The world was so fast, and their influence on the past events was minimal even though the mining operation leader Leroy seemed to trust them.

After complaining about their day, they decided to go home and see if Leroy called them again.

Since they were absent the next day, Leroy thought they quit, but he decided to send a messenger to them just in case. This was on day 4.

When the boys got the message asking them why they were absent, they told the messenger that Leroy was silent yesterday about what they should do, which left them confused and lost. Even Millie's silence on the issue left them unmotivated.

So they thought they should just return to everyday labor, even if it was boring and humiliating.

But Leroy's messenger assured them that he was willing to give them a second chance and even give them an exciting job this time, so the boys accepted.

In contrast to his supportive attitude toward the boys, Leroy was furious about the adventurers, but he kept silent yesterday because officials told him to keep his hands off and stay away from his own mining operation site. He thought these officials were stupid because he would have helped them out for a price. Their inconsistency in their treatment toward the adventurers was appalling to him. Why did they express that they would address the adventurer hegemony by cutting funding, penalizing anticompetitive behavior, enforcing regulatory oversight, promoting market diversification, and supporting new entrants to the mining community? Rumors among his fellows even circulated of whistleblowers getting offed secretly. But at the same time, they showed times where they were capable of putting down groups who were unfairly taxing local businesses.

"What a joke!"

In the end, he might be no better, hiring the boys since they were cost-effective but also resembled his own desperation when he was younger. He was an altruistic person, but it often came at the cost of his business, which was why he risked his life everyday in such an isolated, risky field of work. But it was true that these kids were more than just the result of his charity and the desperate situation he was in with the attack of the goblins. They were street smart, agile, had the potential to be skilled if they kept coming to work, and provided unique perspectives that he was willing to embrace.

So the boys would be joining hundreds of other boys like them shortly at a particular site. This time, he would be transparent regarding the operation and how they could contribute and be promoted. But it was essential that they came into the operation with disappointed expectations. This way, he could grab the most willing individuals. He was unconventional in his hiring decisions that way. But he was only one of many "biting heads" or pillars of the industry, which meant that he was risking his neck just to get "juicy" or high-value laborers, since he often liked to feign vulnerability, disingenuous but rational and innovative. His rationale came from the lack of more objective measures or hiring criteria, among other reasons, especially considering that magic potential was so random and lopsided.

So the readily available kids represented a consistent labor supply but also the rare possibility of one of them being "epic loot" in terms of magical prowess. This put a game-like gambling element to his hiring decisions. This was a typical concern, as it was often linked to kids whose rare magical potential a company realized quitting these same companies and becoming adventurers due to a lack of established loyalty. So he was already engendering his own method of ingraining faithfulness into his laborers, even addressing them as members as if in a community or family. Yet, he had good intentions, relying on empathy to make all of this function.

When the three boys Billy, Shadrach, and Notch arrived, they saw Millie standing near over a hundred of boys gathered and conversing noisily.

Since Leroy invited the three boys so earnestly, the boys got their parents to join them and even some friends. In fact, they brought eighteen people in total, which was outside Leroy's expectations, forcing him to arrange a feast before an orientation instead of an orientation before a feast. He expected them to be hungrier, since people in the lower classes often forwent lunch and walked by foot, taking longer routes to avoid the short ones that the freemen or those high-born took.

Once the more than a hundred boys arrived, it was always joke time, and they were throwing jokes and laughing like a bunch of archers desperately shooting at their enemies in a siege.

In the background, providing solace to the boys, the sound of the wind and the hundreds of laborers that only wanted to get back to their own sufficient worlds married, resulting in a bouquet of hope.

The boys gathered together, forgetting the memories of the smell of urban waste, finding ceasefire in their dynamics just for a moment. They were all on the same side, facing the great Leroy. But each moment was a test to their patience and incompatibility with each other, arising from the growing tensions of coming of age. They would soon recognize their unique power to change uniquely their circumstances and seize self-expression. They would survive the new age (their era) and supercede the leaders of a generation ago.

Within their highly complex, magically communicative, urban society full of economic and social disparities, some of them might recognize themselves on the side of naturally emerging counterculture movements.

The war on monsters would only help promote cultural debate.

As for the boys' connection to adventurers as both "outsiders" of society, Considering how free they were in expressing themselves upon their society and world, the adventurers to whom these boys looked up as rebels were, arguably, on the side of the status quo, debuting as humble regular people who became empowered as the voice of the people. The amount of power these adventurers held in changing the world aligned more with a hegenomy than that of "vigilantes fighting against corruption". Their biting sarcasm and sensational straightforwardness only made them more relatable and trustworthy than those bureaucrats who fussed too much about "due process" in criminal proceedings, pocketing taxes, and systematizing policies.

Though, the adventurers were a broad category, and the argument that they were a hegenomy and on the side of the status quo was based on the words of certain reporters, thinktanks, and public intellectuals or figures, among others, rather than that of the entire city outside the adventurer sphere.

Despite the complexity of society, the boys felt a bond stronger than any shadow to each other, even if it would only last a "lifetime" of 6 years.

Today, the boys occupied several roles and considerations: moving several bags from point A to point B, having an interconnection between several subgroups between the boys to compensate for the the dividing nature of the land topography, an interplay of various roles that occupy the "tweening" or in-betweens of the flow of the operation, the consideration of the health of each boys by various appointed "health inspectors", the three-buddy system of three boys in one bag-carrying group, among others, and food being the least concern since the boys were expected to be more hardy in respect to their more physically promising background and age. As for why it was the three-buddy system rather than the more commonly heard two-buddy system, it was much more easier to detect power dynamics from afar when three people were involved than if it was "balanced" with only two. A four-buddy system would only make things undesirably "balanced" again, and a five-buddy system was excessive in number for the purpose of the system in the first place.

Leroy was the architect of this complexity, but it was like breathing and sleeping to him. Oh, he loved sleeping and seeing people do it, and that was for his age (nearing 50 years old) as well.

This was a political move on the chess board, as even 1,000 bottom-rung people were as noisy as a flock of geese having a feud. But first and foremost, he was a business magnate and investor. He shaped energy and environmental policies, but apart from his other political activities, to which he referred as "minor" in a dialectical discussion, he held no political office. His actions broke boundaries, as the money thing that businesses cared about, economics, predicted offices.

Meanwhile, the boys, the health inspectors, the new "enforcers" that Leroy had appointed from the group, and Leroy were finally done with their food, concluding the feast. With the roles given selectively to the boys during the feast, the orientation would detail their roles.

Then, they would easily find themselves getting to productive, fulfilling work in no time. They only needed someone to tell them what to do, following like a kind and patient guide. Leroy was too busy and easily tired to do that, so he had the enforcers work together with the health inspectors, who then became the sub-messengers in the hierarchy that included Leroy's inner circle of messengers.

As for Millie, she was obviously an enforcer, and she was not the only woman or girl there. In particular, several other women were present, being former soldiers. Millie was an exception, being the youngest and the only one who relied on her military police father's guidance on combat rather than on formal soldiery.

The boys were having a rough time trying to escape the eyes of the "enforcers" that Leroy appointed from the group. Now, they were just hoping for bread, just one. They only needed one bite.

When it comes to their plan, they wanted to establish first intelligence of the other boy subgroups. If they could know where they were headed and how they were planning to do it—whether defensive, aggressive, fast, slow, big, or soft—they would be able to make decisions much more precisely. Of course, they were casual about it, speaking in terms that they used when playing children's games as stemming from a background coincident with marginalized homeless day laborer groups.

Leroy was observant, so he immediately sorted the group's dynamics before the boys started to recognize underlying patterns in his operation. If he wanted them to succeed on the first try, he would let them, but he wanted to see them flexibly try, which meant managing frustration and learning how to stay emotionally intelligent both intra- and inter-personally. The productive aspect was dependent on this.

This was antagonistic toward the success of the operation, but this was his final test. He was the king of tests, and he would make sure that they experienced life's suffering first hand—to prepare them for what was coming ahead.

The death of Maverick and that of his associate laborers were more than just elements of a tragic accident on the papers. It could have been prevented through beast-centric pilot facilities, test environments, and places of creative expression of skill, and Billy, Shadrach, and Notch could have lived more normal lives. But there was always room for improvement. They would strive, until they could become the managers.

Chapter 6 - Embracing Emancipation
From the boys' perspective, the tension was brewing like a pot left on the fire. The time was ticking, and they were beginning to lose sweat. Sweat was beginning to expire, and their patience too. What came next was their words becoming strung along with negativity. They started spewing words of antipathy. They would grab their fellow and evoke annoyed expressions of malice. They should not, but they did because they were unable to release their tensions. They were still young teenagers, but they had to grow, even if they emphasized they were adulting. They would not sit idly and watch their fellows suffer; they would stand up and represent themselves upon this world. They would manifest their destinies in this land. Their friends and families would know that they were themselves. They would claw their way to the city heights.

The sound of whispers fled the mouths of these children and entered the ears of those who had prepared flexibly. This time, they would recognize where they stood.

They bolted, chasing shadows of other boys. At this moment, they would intercept them and provide aid, seizing the right to glory by deposing those complacents.

The system was functioning well, but each trinkle toward the end made sure that they were nothing but rabbits in the forest crying for help. They knew that they had to move.

They moved, launching out of the bushes and vegetations. The trees watched their steps.

Various boys clapped hands at the interconnections within their group of subgroups.

"Let's go!"

"Hurray!"

"Alright!"

The goal was to make sure this operation succeeded amid the manipulations of the wise Leroy.

He was not happy with pretending to be a bystander, so he took action.

A flurry of movements were shadows eating each other. Nothing stood in the way of their rush. They would cast the weight of emotional burden from themselves. Today, they would stride.

Thud, thud, thud. Like wind clapping hands in the wind, they signalled each other their next steps using their child tactics. But their wisdom was unparelled within their subgroups, for familiarity breeded the quickness of dissemination. Faster, the boys were elevated beyond the shadows, and their steps skipped higher than the shadows of the trees. They wouldn't let roots nor branches uphold them. They were godlike in their maneuvering.

Time moved. It was everpresent. Why? It heard that it was, and it was.

The boys were not happy with the time moving too quickly in their eyes. They made it to the end of their journeys, each an ending and a start within the sequence between point A and B.

Happening like a cacophony of cannons, they were done, a breeze of joy flying before they could say ha.

Meanwhile, Billy, Shadrach, Millie, and Notch attended, their friendly faces taking supremacy.

Anyway, Leroy was pleased with the result, but he saw the process in which they achieved this result as disgustingly unskilled. What a skill issue.

No one complained. If they wanted to, they would get disposed of immediately. It was sarcastically nice knowing that their entire lives depended on some really ambitious people who might have empathy but would behave callously anyway.

A moment of silence slowly marked the division between boss and laborers. And it would be great if time stopped for them to breathe, but they were already hearing their names being called one by one by the messengers of Leroy. It was already time for them to stay or leave. Whatever happened next was up to the hiring decision-making of Leroy himself. He would decide who left or stayed.

The time was ticking, and Notch was too upset with the fact that he tripped. Millie was concerned with her quality of movement, as she was taught dancing techniques. If she performed like a wet rag, then she was a wet rag. Ew. Anyway, Billy was busy struggling to stand, his legs hurting like somebody ran a magical spinning tapering tip into it. His mind was in the "no more where am I where am I". Shadrach was completely wasted, lying down on the ground, and the only signs of life were his oscillating chest. Everything else—from his gaping mouth, still eyes, limp limbs, and awkward position in the middle of what was supposed to be a serious formal situation—said dead.

This was the result of their mightiest effort. What a joke.

Yet, Leroy was clapping.

Why was he clapping?

The boys were already discussing among themselves, even if they knew they could get punished for it. They were already decided that if they stayed or leave, they would keep their ego anyway.

Ego was everything, to be clear.

If they gained nothing, they would still spit at their oppressors. Who were they to be treated like little immature brats? Ha, if Leroy realized how much they actually knew, he would beg and cry for mercy. They were sure of themselves. It was that simple.

Meanwhile, Leroy was sharing his fair share of praise for the boys, whom he saw as contributing to his understanding of how to make sure he minmaxed this entire operation. He was that confident in them.

His confidence in himself was self-evident.

Time moved, and the boys were gone. Leroy was already itching due to the insects.

The sounds of the forest were like moments of release and reminders of how troublesome staying in the forest for too long was without any kind of remedy for the minor but very bothersome moments of it.

Time felt like it resumed again when Notch and the other two boys and Millie recognized that that they were walking up again to Leroy as part of a new established labor force consisting of 60 boys.

Leroy was fair he said. He thought that if anyone needed help, he would provide it. But he was a person with his own interests, so he wouldn't stretch himself backward for someone who didn't even want his help.

Today was awesome day—win-win!

Leroy stepped forward, his steps like the beating sky.

Taking on a tone that sounded both genuine and sarcastic, he said: "Okay, now with the problems over, I want to address everything that's going on fully. We have several different sections. I did say that in the orientation, but um, if you guys want a serious... deconstruction of my entire operation. You're going to climb up the ranks because..." He chuckled while speaking. "... people are crazy. I mean..." He waved his hand dismissively. "People need to be crazy. You know, motivated. We love the motivated people. They are crazy-incredible! I've seen them—magnificent individuals. Now, that sounds a little bit underhanded, but I'm serious now. We have to emancipate ourselves completely. That is my philosophy—emancipation. You get me?" His smug and sarcastic voice bloomed. "Now with that philosophical tangent over, I want you guys to look at me seriously. We've established that you guys are the ones, but you're more than just the 'oneness'. You're going to need 'awesomesomeness', and I'm not saying that in a joking way. You guys need actual guts, you know. Please, just let me just finish the job by asking you—each of you—a very good question—precise and delicate. Do you care about what's happening here? Do you see everything that I put? The trees, the plants..." He glanced to the side with thought. "The vegetation.

"Uh, I know you guys are not that observant, which is why I'm very disappointed when I saw none of you praising my divine work! My plants are so well-organized and tended to: I can't believe none of you considered them. I am so good at getting everyone together right? Anyway, the ones that remain here are only here because I decided so. I have a choice thing here to make, so I'm going to choose 30 more to handle the plants and the rest to handle the actual mining operation. There is no escaping this, because I've already made sure that your past jobs reject me automatically. No one likes any of you." He was lying about this and the rejection thing, but he liked a good test. It's not like he wasn't sure that they could see through him. But who cares? The simple reason he was so expressive right now was that he finally achieved his goal. He was just savoring the loot—the exclusive labor force—he got, an overflow of excitement scattering his solemn eloquence.

Basically, Leroy had five primary objectives for the boy group: their recognition of "emancipation", motivated and dedicated individuals, appreciation of nature, separation into two subgroups, and loyalty and commitment.

His philosophy of emancipation could be phrased as such: "Humanity shall become epitomized through its representative individuals."

He wanted to pull the wheat from the chaff, and the chaff he wanted to protect the safety and happiness of. This was in the sense that he would help individuals fulfill respective roles as part of a community that relied on a variety of roles, perspectives, and personalities. He would create destroy establishments that promote division and exclusivity through his own, as he saw himself as a disruptive innovator, that which generated social progression and partnered with the miners' union.

With Leroy being a titanic force upon the boy group that included some women and girls, Billy, Shadrach, Millie, and Notch stood by. They were productive, tacitly waiting for opportunities. Meanwhile, they awaited their pending new roles as more formally established members of Leroy's force.

With magic, Leroy was able to contact several different hidden messengers. He motioned them to alert laborers who were specialized in handling crucial bureaucratic paperwork. The alert would be about the formalization and integration process for the boy group. This marked its putting in effect. However, when it came to magic use, usually, he had a preference for the natural (without magic) mode of communication instead. But he was too in-the-moment to go home where he could do it.

"Alright!" He waited before he had everyone's full attention again. "We're leaving, okay?"

Billy was already tired, wishing that Leroy was done. He respected the guy, but he was already in the need to rest and massage his legs. Shadrach was practically crawling, and the fact that Leroy ignored him was characteristic of his lenience and patience despite his formal background. Millie was having trouble dealing with headaches, as her sweat was no longer there, since she was very thirsty. If she got water before she started standing in the heat out of fear of Leroy's burst of expressiveness, then maybe she would be alright. But she knew that her position as part of a marginalized group of women was only going to be miserable. She had much less power, as laborers were often men, garnering more respect since they were outside and voicing themselves at every waking moment. Woman stayed inside often, making it harder for them to connect and express themselves. This made her feel the weight of her insignificance to others. They respected her fighting to some degree, but they always treated it like a spectacle, not some normal soldier thing that everyone did. Her concerns were that of some person. Despite the improvements of magic in connecting others and her belief that it was only going to be so much time before women could be treated as normal yet themselves, she still felt dismissed and like an outsider. Notch was busy eating fried chicken that he bought from a wandering trader. He liked it, but so did Millie.

The fried chicken was more than just food. It was a symbol of wealth. And Notch was throwing all his funds to buying it. The fact that he even had it spoke volumes about his new influence on the boys.

This was his way of expressing his power, and they all glanced at him, feeling meager and left out. But they had their own cards up their sleeves at re-gathering themselves and getting revenge through success—wealth.

The dungeon was like one million times more complex in terms of how all these dynamics would shape up by the time it took central stage.

Billy and Shadrach felt warm and comfortable, even if they saw that Notch's simple action of eating fried chicken made others feel left out, because they were worried that addressing the issue would only break the peace. Even if this peace was fragile, they preferred it over dirty chaos.

Incidentally, Millie was just following the boys' lead again, because she wanted to fit in.

When Millie interrupted the peace by asking formally and politely for water, the boys were happy to help, showing her their collection of three wooden bottles.

Millie was almost astounded, feeling the same as the boys toward something trivial like wooden bottles. But to her and the boys, they were sharing magic. In the end, they only had so much childhood to savor before they were adults. By the time they were adults, they only had so much time to live. This was their life—a mix of humor, sorrows, and tales of becoming just like the main characters of a fairy tail on the horizon. All it took was imagination, and the wooden bottles were magic.

Chapter 7 - Trials in the Dungeon
Afterwards, in the progress of returning to their hovel homes, they walked long distances.

The sound of flutes, drums, moving cloths and fabric, and stringed instruments guided them homeward through the streets of their district. It was a place where hundreds of colors blended like a sea mustering its strength and breathing out all the fish in it. Breaths of white smoke wafted, crying out throughout the blue night sky. The momentary calls of women and men, as they walked as if they danced. It was a morning glory.

Billie, Shadrach, Millie, and Notch lost to Leroy who made himself the highlight. A degree of frustration was added to the boiling pot each of their unique and individual hierarchy of needs in friction with the colliding needs of their society, new organization, certain people, and each other.

Tomorrow, they would find challenges at the intraorganizational level, involving internal dynamics between members, with Leroy emerging as a central figure.

Yet, even with all of this, they had to go to a dungeon.

The next morning, on day 5, Leroy requested that they visit a dungeon, forgoing any mention of mining and gardening. "What happened?" Leroy asked for them. "Well, it's crucial that you know exactly what I want. The dungeon should show you how complex mining actually is. The mining operations I showed you all were those in isolated locations, so security was not a priority because I don't care what happens to them. I only require that my main and most important operations remain intact and working well. The dungeons? That's where they intersect."

Meanwhile, in the heat, Billy wanted to take a shower at a river now that Leroy had him as a member. If Leroy could do so much, maybe Billy could swim in a river for the first time in his life.

Millions felt similar to Billy. He represented them.

In front of Billy, Leroy was staying instead of leaving.

His new labor force required a change of lifestyle, so he was actively using magic to keep himself cool. He was used to doing this, but it was only now that he decided to change his lifestyle.

Leroy was a highly organized individual, so he immediately composed himself to communicate succinctly his plan for them to proceed to the dungeons methodically. If they failed to do so, they would have to return, or else they would die. Monsters often occupied the hidden cavities of the cave, and they could easily use magic to create them and break walls to ambush and escape quickly. He was no fool. These monsters were no fool.

He tripped down on a flight of mountain stairs.

The 60 boys in front of him stared at him, finding his posture ridiculous.

He stood up and took a deep breath.

"Okay." Now that he was balanced, he could address his falling. "It's been a while since I've spent this much time going outside. I apologize."

The boys found his apology even more ridiculous, but their respect for him stayed. They refrained from pondering the nuance of his words or actions. They just listened, obeyed, filled their needs, and left. That was their life. Loyalty to establishments was not something that weighed their hearts. Instead, they were loyal to their families, shouldering yet declining the expectations of society.

Leroy's prominence was getting annoying to them, so they just focused on the essential contents of his directions.

When the boys reached the cave, Leroy was talking about a bunch of scientific-sounding stuff.

He had some of them squat down on one side, another on another side, another on another side, and another on another side: four subdivisions in total.

He was preparing them for a monster.

Leroy quickly pointed out the monster when it arrived.

Through the positions, the boys eliminated the time it took to away and to where the monster was depending on its relative position.

They guaranteed a spear strike to its left jaw that became injured when it tripped. If they were more proficient, they would strike with more precision and maybe do it a combo with three strikes.

Leroy was smirking, finding the whole thing hilarious. The heat was affecting him too.

The monster was turning left and right, dodging attacks, but it considered that its mass and fur only contributed to its movements more reliant on swift but brief engages rather than endurance hunting.

It made fake charges, scaring the boys to make space for him to retreat.

When it escaped, Leroy was furious. Yeah, he was heated.

The tropical sun graced the ground, each pore on the rocky ground like a precious gem expressing the love of gods.

The boys were exhausted, so they stared at this beauty.

Leroy finished, remarking that the sun was too hot.

The boys won, sweat dripping down their nose and tickling them.

The beast lost, passively hiding in a cavity.

Leroy clapped his hands perfunctorily, but his negativity was superficial too. He knew how to manage his emotions. He just liked to express himself to communicate.

In relation to the whole dungeon thing, even if the boys were intended to be members originally of a mining operation, Leroy showed them that miners had to organize themselves well. The difference between a trekker and a hunter was similar to miners and adventurers. A trekker still had to know how to engage with a bear, even if it was there to trek rather than hunt. Similarly, a miner had to engage with a random monster using grouping.

The boys, of course, thought that dealing with monsters was a waste of time since this was commonly seen as unattached to the job description of a miner. But Leroy emphasized that even if they would mine for years without dealing with a monster, he said that it equipped them with valuable analytical and problem-solving skills and that learning how to deal with monsters solved complex problems across various fields. In conclusion, monster problems were everywhere.

Adventurers and monster hunting were often the limelight, so most of the boys were excited at first. But the fatal nature of dealing with monsters sobered them up.

Only several boys actually attacked the monster; the rest froze up with confusion, having fully seen themselves as factually capable of striking and killing the beast. They thought that their background of humiliation and desperation would translate well to a seasoned fighter. But they were like naked babies facing the judgment of irrational parents—childhood memories of deathly sorrow.

They were back to their worst days of their life, helpless again.

What did they do wrong? What haven't they done?

They did everything. And yet, they were disrespected by reality.

Those who were already terrified before the monster encounter were not disappointed. They were better off than those who felt helpless in their cognitive dissonance. At least, they were not disappointed.

Those who recognized that they were helpless way before the encounter were even more better off. For one, they assessed the danger of monsters well, but in particular, they emphasized self-awareness of their limitations and frailty. Primarily, these ones, as long as they were agonizingly optimistic, were most likely to succeed under Leroy's direction.

The groups immediately saw tensions, as the boys were already comparing each other's reactions. This stimulated the inherent tensions between the group and the helplessness each boy felt. They were trying to make up for this by acting out, since the eloquence that Leroy had was out of their reach anyway. What they were doing was right. They were communicating. But they were limited clearly, resulting in physical fighting, which they often did when they were angry.

The physical fighting helped them experiment with each other's sense of control and shake the dynamics up. But, it sored relations between some of the boys. The rest of the boys were able to displace their anger, resulting in some perceived tension release. But this was still dangerous, unpredictable, violent, and self-destructive.

Fortunately, Leroy intervened with his guards, stopping the dynamics where they now were.

Any punch not taken resulted in a certain mutual understanding. The person who got the last punch in was obviously considered to be dominant or, at least, the perpetrator. The person who fought the best were now the "leaders" of the group. These dynamics distracted the boys from the monster and returned them to suffering they were at least familiar with. But this was very painful.

Honestly, Leroy thought they were goofy because they cared so much about things that didn't matter. If they were adults who spoke and acted judiciously, they would be competing over more productive things rather than just being good at punching other people. Competition was good if it was productive, so working together, despite tensions, if it benefited both parties was a key difference of mature adults from these boys. Though, he was generalizing, as respective context still mattered.

Dang, though, the boys were very entertaining to watch. Reality was often more hilarious than fiction. Though, he did wonder if these boys would live up to the exertion of power typical of adventurers and trolls.

Earlier, 60 boys from various distinct parties fought. It started a member of a party of four boys saying something about someone and his party which had attacked the monster. They were saying it with the intention of getting the last word in and leaving. But one of the other members of the latter party went and confronted the speaker face-to-face. This resulted in the former party walking away while mocking the latter party. Meanwhile, the latter party followed and kept addressing the issue confrontationally. This resulted in some physical interaction through touching and tapping and then grabbing and pushing. When it got to pulling, that was when the fighting started. Other boys began to join in aggressively because of the fact that most of them disliked that people were mocking the party that had attacked the monster. But the problem was that the boys were not doing it to avenge this party. They were doing it because the parties consisted not of friends alone but of circumstantial buddies. The members were originally from various friend groups, so it became a fight of diversity once friendships got involved.

As for the action aspect of the fight, it was very complex and long. Each boy had certain mannerisms of fighting, and certain groups were in the right place at the right time to get the kick out of demolishing other groups in the wrong place at the right time. Listing each action would be perplexing considering how each action rippled across the various parties, each of which detached often and complexified the dynamics even more.

The boys were different people by the time they finished fighting.

The monster was a catalyst to this fight. Very impactful, both the monster encounter and the fight made Leroy pause and reflect, while the boys sat as if pretending to be dead.

Leroy could easily sweep the issue under a rug, but he knew that the boys were only useful if composed, not repressed and depressed. Similar to addressing the issues that adults demand to be solved, addressing the issues of the boys and then solving them would make him a much more effective leader, because they would flock under his name. He would be their banner. He would be their god. If not their god, then their god would bless him, and he would be a representation of their god's actions here on this world.

Either way, he was merely stating an emotive hypothesis. If he truly wanted to be a god, he would have to spend a million years sitting all alone first at least. And that was what he was going to do.

Immortality was on the menu.

Soon, fried chicken was Leroy's weapon, and he ate them alongside the boys, resolving the tensions between them somewhat. He gave them wealth, and he gave them a sense of freedom. He was their banner, and he would unite them under himself.

This was where they truly found oneness—in his name.

If he gave the fried chicken earlier, they would not recognize that they themselves cannot find order through each other. They must rely on a much more authoritative entity, him.

But Billy, Notch, Millie, and Shadrach thought he was just a regular man with a lot of things under his belt. The boys all thought similarly.

Simply, exaggerated self-importance strung him along.

The boys already saw so much shit in their life that someone like Leroy isn't necessarily going to change that.

They only cared about concrete stuff like money and family, so the fried chicken was their only tie to Leroy. As soon as Leroy's procurement of concrete stuff was over, they would leave.

If they wanted to have faith in a human, he would have to be a very remote, very symbolic, very historical established emperor. But Leroy was just a man.

One experience isn't enough to make them piss their pants and go Mama all over Leroy, Leroy.

Maybe, if he were to tie them together under an emperor or a god, they would see him respectfully in a manner befitting a priest or pastor. But to see him as a god? No, because that would be near sighted and condescending.

With all that said, Leroy and the monster lost. In his mind, he won.

Twice, the boys won: once against the monster and again against Leroy, but with Leroy, it was bittersweet.

Anyway, now that the boys were now united through hiking for meaningful hours, fending off a life-taking monster, grouping, punches, similar ages, and a shared background, among many factors, they would find themselves finally in the mines tomorrow.

In the background, Maverick's life was still beating, because the society in which his death occurred and the factors for his death continue to permeate.

Chapter 8 - Into the Abyss: Descending into Darkness
At their leader's command, the next day, on day 6, the boys gathered at a plaza, seeing many familiar faces. For the reason of this, they frequented the street, originally being borderline street children. With that said, the faces, mannerisms, styles of clothing, gait, and various kinds of everyday people were obvious to them. They each carried an eternity of knowledge that even scholars would cry to obtain, but they couldn't eloquently express this.

The streets were like ten thousand tunnels, and these tunnels were like caves within caves within caves, each subset of a cavity just flying across numerous categories and such. An entire street was an "eternity line", full of the existences that turned each person into a whole different person. Each person was that existence, and so was each object and each environmental factor. So when any existence changed, an explosion of colorful explosions, divided along and sometimes across a variety of walls, which were each indented, eroded, porous, or a combination of these in a complex manner. Humanity spread on these streets.

But the boys knew that experientially, rather than only with words or abstract imaginations. They understood this.

They were that humongous in size, and each step they made was that great, tittering, clasping, scowling, angry, maniacal, gravitating, searing, wretched noise.

Their leader saw them as poor creatures deserving sympathy.

The high-ranking clergy members; mages from various guilds, trade associations, craft organizations, fraternal lodges, cooperatives, unions, communities, and cultural and heritage organizations; adventurers of various factions and clans; and other variegated interlocutors of higher society might see them as problematic nosey little brats. Moreover, classism and racism were very prevalent and openly practiced like an open flood gate in the middle of daytime. It was slipped in between as subtext for the culturally equipped. It was a divisive sword that allowed people to retreat from their cognitive dissonances and focus on the high time of life. This was perfection, where it was most divisive, violent, and murderous. This was goodness, where it was most pronounced and treacherous, where it was most painful and heartbreaking. This was (heaven-ordained, cold, logical, intelligent, meditative, humble, defiant) enlightenment—the Lord of the Realm. (His eye cast a shadow upon his hellish domain, terrorizing those who imagine him.)

Meanwhile, Billy idly stared at the shop stalls, each movement of his finger expressed his discontent with staying too long in dry season. Several months from now, wet season would come again. That would result in him being a happier boy.

He was walking alongside the group, so he was doing more than just staring.

Beside him, Notch was grabbing apples and buying them, showing how much wealthier he was. He got some early cash from his leader for being a good boy in general. He never asked why specifically.

Millie was happy to be in front, trying to guard and protect the boys from the sun in the east. Though, she immediately started losing her composure—though in a casual manner—when they turned away from the sun into another street. To fix this issue, she was happy to be on the right side of the boys, but her body was not wide enough to cover them all. She was contemplating problems that the boys were ignorant of. But she felt happy trying anyway. This morning made her optimistically simple.

Passing by Millie, Shadrach was caressing his shoulder. He was still new to lying down after he pushed himself yesterday. His body still ached, and many other boys near him similarly ached and looked numb.

The 57 other boys in the group, which included the several women, had similarly unique distinctions between them. Therefore, it was a noisy group with its own commanding presence, which passed by many other groups of power. Time was counting down, and the longer people spent time together, the higher the chance for collaboration and competition. The boys were already networking, which, to them, was just talking casually, but they were reaching out, grabbing a bunch of sand, and tossing it around like a child would.

Ten hundred words were said in the span of several minutes. The boys were doing good work by just existing.

Their leader was happy about this, so he just watched them grow like slimes collecting biomass.

The boy characters grew, and their strength tripled again and again. Their words were like swift knives that cut through fish and around bone. It was succinct, pleasurable, and, most of all, vivid. Their strength of communication multiplied, as they were considering their places as part of a group. Overall, the effective depth of their group multiplied their networking strength.

As soon as the networking collapsed into refreshing, lightweight goodbyes, the leader was clapping more than perfunctorily. He was smiling genuinely.

As for the result of their networking, it amounted to 47 new friends, 20 new contacts, and 15 new enemies. Productive, this included the enemies, because they provide a bountiful set of "yum-yums": motivation, awareness of strengths and weaknesses, resilience, refinement of priorities, competitive edge, learning opportunities in general, and potential friends.

Now, these numbers only considered whom the boys believe to be relevant enough to count. Moreover, the details of their interactions were a dish of fresh flavors, full of new insights. This would be challenging to take account of, which is why they would rather just summarize it with one quantitative sentence.

A list of names jotted down and slipped into a pouch was enough for their leader.

It was a job success.

But their goal was to mine, yet their leader was open to seeing how the boys could do so much more than just mining. He was riding on a trend right now, and if this trend popped like an economic bubble, he would just jump right out. He had the money to do so.

The boys were play things to him. He recognized that this thought was extremely crazy, reacting to himself.

The boys established themselves well enough into this chasm of society. Their leader could only pretend for so long before his mind collapsed on itself in a crawl toward the recognition of their great prowess.

The location of the mines opened up a new field, despite the contrasting eyes between the boys, the boy group and their environment, the boy group and their leader, and the boys with their selves as part of a group, among others.

It ignored these contrasting eyes to mislead the boys into thinking they were free. But they brought their problems with them.

They would have to navigate this horror.

The control would be so sweet—magic, magic, magic.

At the mines, the boys were almost like toys.

The could only see the world through their static eyes. The darkness covered every periphery, and the only thing they could do was blink. Gradually, the darkness began to mold the objects within it into clarity. It was like Death itself had a say in determining whether they would pass or not. The objects provided a plane in which they could walk, but who knew if Death would remove their meaning and thus remove this plane. They were only alive right now because Death allowed them.

This was how the boys saw the dark.

A world full of hopes lay behind the darkness, and they wanted to leap into the void.

One more step.

A boy fell.

"Argh!'

A man watching them from behind grabbed the boy and prevented him from falling further.

Their leader was the man, and he was furious. "Don't take two steps at once! I know you're nervous, but keep your steady!"

The boy was still falling, because his mind saw that he was falling. His body was safe, but his mind was still falling far away. So, it manifested in terror.

"Argh! Arghhhhhh! Ayah! Aaaaaaaaaa!"

It was too late for him to cry. He was already crying.

Though, he was only a boy, aged 14, but he was already being tossed into a cave. The dungeon he went into yesterday was a big one, but it was organized. This cave was not. It was similar to how an embrace might either represent great danger or great order. If someone embraced you from behind, would you look?

That is the feeling of being in the lightest part of the cave while everything else is dark. One more step, and any semblance of humanity would become lost in ethereal beauty.

Heaven would be there.

The boy shut the abstraction of this world up, and he ventured forward out of the hands of his oppressor, the leader who revealed both his and the boy's vulnerability by caring for him. Vulnerability was best hidden in the dark, so he walked into it. The darkness enclosed him like a letter in an envelope. He was perfectly still, representing the dark and becoming it.

He was a boy changed from shadow to shadow. His shadow now coincided with the voluminous cave's.

If he lost his anxiety and emotional resonance, that could be concerning. This was why his triumph over the source of his anxiety had a smirk attached.

He just knew well how well he struggled to get to where he was.

This boy returned to his group: his name was Robert.

Their leader, who was Leroy and whose full name was Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, was already sending the boys deeper into the cave one by one.

Nathaniel addressed the problems of many other boys before this and helped them accustom themselves to the cave, considering that the mines here were much more darker.

As for why this was the case, Nathaniel chose a darker entrance. the method of multiple entrances were easier to maintain than using only one big entrance. Having one entrance was fine, but multiple entrances were just the natural result of not wanting to go the whole way to the entrance or losing track of the location of the entrance. So using magic to make a new entrance was more effective in the long run, considering that these entrances were temporary anyway. Overall, his focus was on just getting in and getting out rather than trying to have a well-established entrance. Of course, multiple entrances meant that most of these entrances were darker because they were less established as formal passages. Basically, the main entrance was highly intricate in providing organized ramps and such for the formal mining process. In contrast, multiple entrances were beneficial for free lance or independent, powerful miners who could handle themselves and preferred the exclusivity.

This was why it was especially tricky to locate goblins. They could hide in cavities for hours like a much more secretive foxhole, and they could break down walls with magical tools, creating paths and navigating around the cave through paths that they and miners had created. This was more than just a rabbit warren in complexity. This was extremely dynamic and flexible. But this ease was limited to the higher levels. The lower the level, the denser and harder the materials were. This happened very quickly, as magic was the only reason for the malleability of the materials. Namely, the mantle of the world was too dynamic in a very powerfully magical way to allow any kind of lower grade magic to affect it. In conclusion, the hierarchy of magical influences in the cave aspect was a vast landscape full of various features. Go sightseeing!

Anyway, now that the boys were going around the cave, it was the smallest thing in the world. This was similar to a cat whenever it entered through small gaps or lay down atop curved spearheads of fences, the actual mass of the size of the cat much smaller than what its fur presented it to be.

When this feeling came to light, the boys already knew this was their new field of play.

A mixed-species group of 65 batbogs (toed bats with prehensile wings) flew around outside of their home range. Their objectives as a community related to recognizing how delicious the trespassing boys were. These boys' curious' group, behavior, community structure, and the protection of these boys were what was tasty. Even if they belonged to a forest, the batbogs were relevant details of the environment where the boys travelled. Their sounds texturizing the atmosphere, the batbogs, simpler than humans in eloquence, communicated with musical variations, a variety of sounds and patterns.

If eye-singers (birds with chirps that made their targets' eyes burn) could observe humans, why shouldn't batbogs? If a dragon should breathe fire under the night sky, why should not the batbogs see its light and express their feelings going by?

A few danderlions (tall bipedal beasts with fast-growing fur) and eye-singers were located in a cave, but it was in a different forest, one of multiple key identifiable environments within the world.

After listening to the vocalisation of an eye-singer bird, Millie sat down. She was tired from joining the adventurers and hunters in taking down the monsters of the night, since the large-scale departure of the adventurers who had arrived and left quickly like the memory of a terrifying thunderstorm.

Now, she liked listening to them, yet the vocalization sounded unique every time.

The reason for this was the loss of genetic diversity. This happened primarily because of the small size of each of the multiple founding populations of eye-singers when they were introduced here in this land from another land overseas.

Her eyes began to burn as if an onion was in front of her eyes.

Her presence here as merely one component of a broad evolution of "founding" choices made her relax. Fitting in, being normal yet unique, and being the result of factors were calming ideas to her.

She finished her thoughts before solving the issue, standing inside Nathaniel's magical bubble where the eye-burning calls of eye-singers were mute. She struggled, fidgeting, as her eyes were already red. Next to the rest of the members of the boy group, she could only share in the distress that everyone experienced after hearing the chirp of the eye-singer. Nathaniel was apologetic.

Everyone recognized that it was outside his expectations. Preparing the magical bubble earlier meant prediction, as it drained his mana to maintain. This was why he only did it now because he failed to predict the eye-singer's emergence. This was his first use of mana of the day, but he was limited. To add to the trouble, the boys were children with no experience in magic, and the several women in the group were natural or physical fighters. This meant that this small trip to the mines was his responsibility. Instead of rejecting help, he got over a hundred of people to help him handle all the crucial background stuff, investing much time and funds into this. Moreover, he wanted to be present enough to answer personally any questions or needs the boys had though. But this was as far as he could go. A loyal work force of hundred or so highly skilled employees was hard enough to maintain. He had dangerous healing potions hidden for emergencies, but that was it.

This was the side of himself that he liked. This was emancipation (his philosophy).

The boys relied on him now—a tie that, if broken, had consequences.

He won, where he was weak.

Chapter 9 - The Eye-Springer's Call and the Advent of Goldberg
The eye-springer's voice was mute, so they were ignorant of its current location. But if they only heard it, they would know, but that would result in burning eyes.

Before Nathaniel could hastily sacrifice himself to locate the bird, a group of boys and women blocked him and told him that he needed to keep himself rooted in magical focus.

He was becoming excited. The satisfaction of being relied on was sweet.

The control was so sweet.

The boys had to stop him. He was becoming too friendly.

So the boys instead would use this kindness and take more challenging risks. This would balance things out.

The boys utilized what they have learned, they grouped up, releasing themselves one by one. Each one ran as far as they could before hearing the eye-springer's call. Then, the next one came out, heading in another route to loacte the bird. This time, he tried to return to the bubble because he found out where the bird would be based on the sound. So even if his eyes were burning, he walked back to the bubble. He actively chose to stay close and follow a predetermined path earlier, so this paid off well, considering he was only the second one. The boys immediately found themselves out of the bubble, as Nathaniel fell to the ground. This changed their plans. Since the cave was very porous and full of gaps, they would probably still hear the sound even if they ran and hid behind walls and structural variations. They decided to run toward the bird and scare it away with their numbers. The bird saw them, but instead of running away, it only moved around in the portion of the cave, expecting the boys to give up and lose track of it.

The boys, including Billy, Notch, and Shadrach, were expected to make it go away or throw a rock at it to knock it unconscious. But no one was successful.

Nathaniel recognized that the boys had had enough, so he walked outside and grabbed a potion from an adjutant he had waiting, hearing the boys yelping and groaning the whole time. Then, before opening the potion, he walked and used his ears for a position where he could hurry directly to the bird. After the bird's last call, he ran in one direction, falling and hurting himself.

This was a mess, so Nathaniel licked the potion liquid on the ground after it the potion container broke on impact. If he opened the potion out in the open, it would explode because of the air. Inside the cave, it was much less likely to explode. He healed his eyes and went out of the cave, meeting his adjutant and saying that he failed.

The adjutant nodded, handed Nathaniel the rest of his potions, and cast a spell that made him fast.

He ran, only to fall and hit his head after his eyes burned.

After desperately making his adjutant drink a potion, Nathaniel chuckled before realizing that eye-singers should be avoided. He and his adjutant walked outside, realizing that the boys were stuck there.

So Nathaniel outsourced some adventurers as usual and part of standard to deal with the pesky eye-singer. He really outdid himself by being a hypocrite when he warned the boys about being flexible yesterday. Well, he did have to adapt to the boys' weird behavior. They ruined his usual momentum, but he was at least open to their interruptions, considering that they did productive things during them. Even if his schedule and mood were affected, which was partly the reason for this disaster of a mining visit, he was content with the progress of having experienced failure alongside the boys and witnessed their unique, unsolicited contributions. Though, the definition of these contributions was that of potential since training new employees are still a crucial part of integrating them into the work force. But if they decided to quit, then this potential was imagined. In conclusion, he and the boy group shared a stronger bond now.

It was sarcastically hilarious how he had to accept that adventurers, being separate and broader forces from his boy group, could do things he couldn't, despite the recent surge in tensions between him and them since their intrusion and vandalization in his mining operation site two days ago. He forwent outsourcing them before the mining visit today partly for this reason. Indeed, He got humiliated, but he was willing to take the loss, moving forward.

If the boys could learn from this complex situation that contributed to this hypocrisy, that would be good.

When the adventurers finished their studies, Nathaniel sent the boys home early, leaving the boys relieved and relaxed, as the pain was too much for a visit. They expected this kind of pain in military training.

On day 7, Nathaniel used the time to reflect, while the boys addressed problems.

As for what these problems were and how they solved them, Billy returned home to his family, who were a bunch of loud creatures walking around their hovel and front like frogs hopping around. Notch was there to accompany Billy, and he greeted the family politely. Billy's younger and older brother started a conversation with Notch about the tournaments. The rest of Billy's family were carrying a bunch of crates full of a variety of items, chairs, and other wooden things. They placed these crates on a wagon, as they were headed to the market to sell. It was challenging carrying all these crates again and again almost everyday. But they had to. This was why the inside of the home was full of crates. It was hard to breathe, and they stayed outside on the front most of the time. When they slept, they did it on the floor of the hovel, having only a few pillows which the younger ones shared. Their only blanket was relatively expensive to them, so they all used it together. They had been accustomed to this lifestyle since they were born.

Billy, his siblings, and his parents treated their house like sleeping quarters, but their home was truly on the streets where they breathed much better. If they wanted privacy, it would be out here around the area alongside around a hundred other children with similarly challenging lifestyles. In the distance, they saw large, pretty houses in gated neighborhoods, but they were stuck here in a small part of the district, only to stare. Rather than feeling jealous, they were ignorant of how much they lacked. Their zero formal education was one painful factor.

In the end, no one thought about being poor when that was their lives and all they knew. They were happy, as much as anyone was, because they were part of a community, making many friends of similar age and those 10 years older than them. Since everyone was very huddled together in terms of how they handled anything, they could find their slice of life and daily work somehow. But this was an ideal perspective of charitable wealthy individuals.

The issues were prevalent. For a bonus more comprehensive overview, fifteen issues could be identified.

One, those with high income lived relatively close in gated neighborhoods, which indicated a coexistence of inequality and income disparity. As a consequence of high costs of living in an highly urbanized city, those from low-income backgrounds were born and lived in slums.

Two, politically, the city dealt corruption, poor governance, and a lack of social safety nets, as adventurers and mages often dealt with concerns that could shake the city economy.

Three, as mentioned earlier, discrimination, gender inequality, and social exclusion was very prevalent and openly practiced.

Four, lack of access to clean water and sanitation was also an issue, despite the fact that magic was supposed to solve these issues already.

Five, ironically, flooding was typical, as heavy rainfall was normal during the rainy season from May to October. Though, this rainfall was quieter, lacking strong winds and rough seas. Additionally, tropical cyclones took around 10 to 30\% share in annual rainfall. Also, proper drainage systems were also lacking in many local areas, and development occurred in places exposed to flood hazards.

Six, health issues such as poor nutrition and higher rates of diseases such as tuberculosis, stroke, and tropical diseases.

Seven, stroke was a concern because of the tropical sun during its hottest days, but the government fortunately were making strides in dealing with this.

Eight, resource depletion was common as well, since magic sped up mining.

Nine, the issue with labor was that workers lacked job security, benefits, and fair wages.

Ten, as for crime, it was relatively low. Families in gated communities only experienced stealing a few times. If they did experience more times than that, it was due to a mistake on their part of forgetting and leaving their valuables. Since the communites were gated and secure, trespassing was very rare.

Eleven, public transportation included certain mages to cast faster walking magic as a job.

Twelve, other issues include hunger and local and national poverty.

Thirteen, times of war, invasion, or civil unrest made rulers that much more corrupt to fund their military campaigns.

Fourteen, merchant and traders engaged in corrupt practices, such as false measures, adulterating goods, or engaging in price-fixing.

Fifteen, corruption and poor governance including the accepting of bribes, tax evasion, nepotism, buying and selling of offices, favoritism, and embezzlement of government money.

Fortunately, magic helped research and often fueled science, so people were becoming more aware.

In summary, the city sucked, but hopefully science and magic does something good.

Nonetheless, wealthy people often coveted living in this district where Billy, Shadrach, and Notch lived for other reasons that, to them, were "not rich" when others were clearly so much richer. They struggled to get out of bed in the morning to go school. Cleaning up and taking care of their body was a part of their daily morning routine. They tried to dress neatly and took care of their looks; though, they often said that they looked horrible. They were anxious and depressed about the future and wished they could live freely. To express their anxiety, they engaged in the arts and studied. They were human too, but their concerns were like a spit at the face of those below them.

Moving forward, the next day, on day 8, Billy was struggling to fix his new clothes, as his parents pestered him into wearing it for the mining. Notch was helping him put with his clothes, intervening every so often, whenever he saw that Billy reached a deadend. Meanwhile, Millie and Shadrach stood around, rubbing their arms absentmindedly and such. It was morning again, and they felt the heat, sauntering under a shade. If it was anyone else from a colder area, they would ran under a shade as soon as possible. Regarding Billy's parents, they had little recollection of the mines, as they worked as market vendors as children of vendors. Their lack of mobility as a result of no formal education contributed signifcantly to this heriditary job thing.

The subgroup within the boy group began walking one by one when their leader called them.

Their steps were like a sheep's, and their leader was like a shepherd.

The moment stilled, for each of them to breathe in the dry air.

"Hello, everyone," their leader said.

"Okay, okay, now what do we do?" said one of the boys.

"We'll be heading to the mines again. This time, you'll have a companion: Goldberg. I won't be present. I can't be. My back is aching. I literally got himself injured more than a person like me can bear. So thank you, Mr. Goldberg."

From behind their leader, Goldberg stepped forward, his steel expresion like a god of war, his clothes shining in the light. He wore armor and wielded a weapon.

He was a warrior.

The boys were confused, some of them saying, "I thought the adventurers were a problem—"

Their leader interrupted them: "This one is not a friend of mine. He's not anyone that I know. So I want you guys to think that this guy is just some guy."

The boys were silent.

Goldberg's whole body was bigger than theirs, like a statue. Internally, the boys were like tiny clay figures, screaming and grasping for straws.

Outwardly, the boys ignored him and moved on because their leader was expecting results.

Goldberg accompanied them like a guide, his hands waving form side to side. He was always prepared to address a conflict between the boys, but the problem was that he had little knowledge about the group's dynamics. So he often came across as a jerk. This disappointed the boys.

After four of Goldberg's confrontations, a communication party of Billy and three other boys, distinct from Notch and Shadrach, engaged with Goldberg, surpising the rest of the boys.

Goldberg started to understand the group dynamics a little better through the communication party. So with this in mind, he decided to observe rather than calling out every time he perceived conflict. This was new. Instead of understanding the dynamics through trial and error in an aggravating way, he listened. This was much more peaceful and a testament to the growth of this party as a detachment serving a distinct and essential role within the larger group.

As a result, the boys and Goldberg felt relieved and relaxed, retaining more energy.

When Goldberg noticed this, he gossiped about an incident where a person pranked soldiers with a fake wand but ended up getting shot at and killed. His tone had initial faint well-hidden contempt toward the person, but he was gauging the boys' reaction to match them before he decided to go full force into either contempt, pity, or indifference toward the person.

The boys were shocked, but this was with interest and curiosity rather than disapproval or approval. To them, it was finding out a hidden layer of a world they were so curious about. Rather than wanting riches, the boys had a desire for knowledge, experience, and confidence, which was why they wanted to mature faster. If wealth made it so that they could become their ideal selves, which might mean protecting their current lifestyle, they would seize it.

Similarly, Goldberg was more than just a man with resources. He would seize the throne that certain people he knew dared sit on. No, no, they deserved to be punished for their arrogance. They humiliated him when they mocked him and treated him like a stranger. He would squash them all.

Their mockeries should be turned into nothing.

He was finally in his arc.

He would drag them all down to hell.

He would not sit down and watch. He would destroy them again and again and again and again.

But these were just feelings. He was a good man with a family, living patiently for over four decades and working as an adventurer for several years. He had to hold it in. He had an urge to kill—the humiliation twisting his insides. He could shake with rage and grief.

As for why he felt this way, he had an impending sense of doom, his entire life, memories, friends, families, and experiences being reduced to nothing and the evil men getting away with it. He was treated like nothing. He was nothing, which was why he was everything.

He would become everything.

Chapter 10 - The Depths of Conviction
"Hahahahahahahaha," Goldberg cackled to a joke one of the boys made, smiling genuinely, clapping alongside them. Despite his peaceful demeanor and gait, his heart burned, crackling, popping, hissing, roaring, sizzling, whistling, creaking, crunching, rumbling, echoing, cackling, whispering, crashing, screaming.

Once, in the past, he said privately: "How dare they? How dare they? How dare they destroy who I am and burn everything to the ground—my innocence, my pride, my humanity—all gone!" (He had past trauma.)

Now, in the present, nonetheless, the boys and Goldberg reached the mines.

The mines were large and terrifying, but any more thought of detail would be excessive to them. Right now, they were worried about living and dying, so they paid full attention to their actions as individuals, as part of a cohesive group, and as part of a transactional relationship of the adventurer Goldberg as a hired guard of the boys.

His managed rage would be essential to their victory, even if it sounded scary. The lip-biting kind was potent for non-strategic, straight-to-the-face combat.

A spider leapt out, but instead of provoking Goldberg with satisfaction, it was a tiny one, making it only dangerous if it was venemous and within range. So, he cast healing magic on himself and slashed the spider down. This was cheap, as his healing magic dealt with venom easily. But this was level of magic was hard to obtain. It required decades of training, but the boys were more concerned with living right now than pondering history.

When Goldberg used light magic that he spent decades training, the darkness disappeared. Incidentally, Richard, one of the boys who began to prefer it, felt at a loss.

Anyway, the nearest group of people were running around in a part of the cave far from Goldberg's group. They were carrying chests and throwing them into two crates. They would carry the crates onto a wagon one by one. Significantly, they were happy to put the effort in now for the satisfaction of sitting and travelling later with a job well done. Finally, only one of them was formally a miner, as the rest were just his friends, including one of his siblings. They were only here for a short task, and they had many other concerns to attend to.

Their small lives were more exciting than this crate-carrying quest. They had more to see, more to be, and more to express. If anyone dared treat them as insignificant directly, they would re-establish their humanity one way or another.

At one of many initial junctions in the mines, Goldberg just wanted to finish the job when he saw that the boys were just accustoming themselves to the place. This meant they looked like sitting ducks staring at a bunch of magical tools for days and days, only to craft some simple tool as a first project. This was boring.

So, after 11 or so hours, the boys just walked outside together as a way to say they were done. Goldberg looked like a deflated platypus by the time he saw them waving goodbye at him. He got up inside the cave from a rock seating and trudged outside, joining the boys with a sense of foreboding. If he did this again, he would rather read books while doing it. But that was what his sister did. So he thought that he should do it too.

The next day, on day 9, he tried it, reading books.

Meanwhile, Billy was on one side, flirting with one of the women with a group of boys in the distance cheering for him. The woman was a cheery kind of girl, and he was up for the task of obtaining such a personality. So he would first flirt with the girl and then assimilate her personality into himself. This was the natural course of learning and communication. He was doing the flirting thing as a semi-joke. Somehow, Notch also was flirting with someone else, but it was a boy. Though, he might be just joking. As for Millie, she was too busy groaning about lying down since walking around was much more exhausting than fighting monster in the night. Simultaneously, she was busy observing some rocks and listening behind Shadrach. When it came to Shadrach, he was in a group analyzing rocks, writing down notes, continuing the task after the boy group's leader asked him to do it once. It was his thing now, but he had a tendency for interfacing people anyway. So maybe this was a natural progression of his.

The output of their visits to the mines was negligible, but each visit revealed to them the interconnected structure of various rocks and how they combined to form the network of caves. It was small progress compared to skilled miners, but it would do for now.

If they wanted to get some further progress, they could incorporate battle training and try to make it more balanced this way.

After the boys tried a few combat moves, Goldberg was quick to correct them, feeling bored that the books he brought were doing nothing to him.

Goldberg was proving to be an asset to the group, and the leader of the boy group, separate from the effective mentor Goldberg, knew that. Though, this leader was taking a risk as usual. What a risky leader who knows relatively little about the technology of adventurers. He often just relied on his ability to assimulate people's understanding by just talking to them. He could recognize the nuances and meanings behind their superficially simple words. This meant that he could infer context easily, so even if he knew little, he could know much.

In the background, the leader was making decisions and interacting with the complex society and market, which rippled down through the market vendor parents of Billy. This was part of the co-existence of various community structures and how they collaborate, even implicitly, to make sense of things.

The adventurer population were significant players, and their decision to collectively visit the district of Billy, Shadrach, and Notch four days ago meant shaking up the city. Some people were in the process of moving to the district some of the adventurers who stayed. This happened for many reasons, including marriage, friendship, some other connection, or because the adventurers' visit was the straw that broke the camel's back when it came to a decision to move to this district.

With peoples' attention on the district during this time, information outlets paid more attention, noticing the more beautiful and awesome parts. The fact that the adventurers praised the district was a significant contributor to this. So that was another big reason for the move.

Hearing the district's name again and again and only hearing great things were probably enough for many people to want to visit the district at least. The fact that terrifying new of goblins were circulating contrasted this added to this again. Fortunately, it was clarified that the goblin attack was everywhere rather than central to the district where it last occurred to people's knowledge.

Despite how little people died to goblins anually in comparison to how many goblins died, they were still considered terrifying.

But official outlets often circulated that adventurers were the heroes that vanquished the threat that monsters imposed. So that also meant emphasizing this threat.

This historical memory would make the children run in terror and throw rocks at goblins, even if it was their first time seeing them.

It was only righteous that the goblins destroy the divisions where their own were systematically and formally imprisoned and dying. They should take back their home, even if it meant wasting hundreds of indoctrinated privileged civilians in their wake to avenge and save millions.

But they were patient and still in great debate regarding how best to solve this issue. Yet, those who had zero formal education and experience in persuasive language wanted to use the physical body via which they labored to communicate their suffering. This meant violence. In the end, the goblins were trying.

Those who had "formal" education got it through studying the notes made through studying human labor. The incident where goblins intruded into the mining operation of the leader of the boy group five days ago helped them obtain bits of useful knowledge. This was sadly little, relative to the accumulated knowledge and education of the humans.

If they could be as well-informed and knowledgeable like the humans, maybe they could promote discourse between goblins and humans. This could mean gaining humans' respect and minimizing negative perceptions of goblins. Then, goblins could finally be "human" again.

If humans saw this, they would be disgusted.

They would hate the idea of equality and empathizing with "devils". They would hate love, because their love was based on stratification.

Today, they were free to do whatever they wanted, even if it meant proclaiming that they were not.

They would say anything instead of doing anything because as they did say, they could do nothing.

Heroism was too yummy.

In actuality, the goblins were horrifying monsters. Their humanity was merely just a superficial pretense, and any humanity was a falsehood. They couldn't be human, and they couldn't seek out humanity as a human would. They could only be a nondescript enemy on the battlefield.

They were a hive mind like sheep.

Today, they were human. Tomorrow, they were dead.

Who cared about humanity nor goblins nor bearers of good will nor those who demand love from their fathers and mothers nor those who seek out hope in the darkness nor those who hate that they cannot find evidence for an idea that would be so beautiful if true nor those who keep on trying and struggle?

In the end, we were nothing.

Hearing that statement, the next day, elsewhere, Goldberg felt enraged, aligning with the other adventurers in the night.

In front of him, over a hundred monsters gathered, each showing distinction like rocks on a shoreline.

"I am not nothing!" he said.

He would become everything.

In an isolated part of the forest, he was fighting zombies, skeletons, and other beasts, restoring himself.

Several skeletons came from the west. He slashed them and kicked them with force, his feet like stamps.

He gloried in the violence, tearing out the skeletons' heads, taking them as trophies before tossing them away. "Nothing!"

He killed several goblins by slicing them transversely, cutting them again and again until he was satisfied.

He demanded proof from these monsters. "Where is your humanity, huh? You have no conviction!"

He kicked and grabbed them. Several zombies leapt, avoiding his slashes, biting him aggressively.

He screamed and fell to the ground, hearing a zombie explode with purple particles.

This came from one of several adventurers nearby who came to help.

"You are nothing..." Referring to the monsters, Goldberg murmured as his life faded.

The adventurers halted his process of death, saving him.

"I deserve to live," he said the next day jokingly in response to another joke. This was on day 10.

Two of the adventurers who saved him went out for a drink with him, making him guffaw several times over.

It was still early morning around 4 AM, so he still had time to spare and sleep before he came to work.

But, as with all fathers, family came first.

But his fist was hardened. His family, his children, were more than just reproductions of himself and his wife, their mother. They were his eyes.

This was why even now, feeling blinded by rage, he could see.

Anyone that removed his eyes would be cast into a fiery hell.

When he saw his children, he saw the sky, the earth, the clouds, and its inhabitants. He saw the great love of God and the hosts He commanded. He saw love imbuing love imbuing love. It was ten thousands of histories imbued into these children. They were great people.

He hugged them and said sweet small words, his eyes becoming wet.

The children asked him why, but he shook his head and said that he just thought they looked funny in a joking manner.

The children pretended to be angry, playing along. They knew him, his ways, and his jokes, so each joke he made was one of many reminders that he was still there.

When the children and father moved on, the mother was staring through the window, seeing ghosts. She was a witch, but she was hiding this for 15 years now. This shameful thing was one of the reasons she was who he was now. As for whether a witch was truly bad, they just used normal magic historically associated with something bad.

The father's life was that of risk-taking, even if he lived a relatively normal life as a family man. So, the protectively private nature of the hidden witch, his wife, balanced this. She handled the confrontations of her husband's occupational peers, adventurers, skillfully and precisely with an aggressive hold on their information. With this control, she could manage how information flows and hide her identity better. By a combination of this and good luck, this made her husband get the guard job with an industry leader, specifically the leader of a particular boy group. Basically, she was that person who coordinated people and got people forming associations, being a central source of information.

Specifically, despite being not formally addressed as such partly due to being a woman, she was the reason why her church organization was able to secure funding. She did this by making sure the events of the church with adventurers went smoothly. This was done through two ways. One, her directions and charisma related to increasing participants through her well-established network like a trimmed and maintained garden. Two, she managed the ebbs and flows of participants at the events. These events involved getting people believing, working together with church-affiliated adventurers, and becoming ones finally. This increased the church's capacity to send out help to various locations and effectively cull poverty. But this process involved a lot of consideration and blind spots. Adventurers were also only one of the populations involved in ensuring the simplicity of this process. More perspectives from a diverse set of peoples meant more accessibility in their respective communities.

Either way, she was just a woman.

It was people more concerned with ego and making sure that "'already working, don't break it' traditions and values" were not wasted that challenged her from within her peer group.

She was part of the group that wanted technology and magic to advance, but she recognized that whoever spearheaded this movement set the laws for what happened next. This was why her existence as "just a woman" was necessary. She lived based on necessity, and it was why was willing to abandon her ego, pride, or self, her witch identity and the recognition of her great work as an individual, for the greater good and acceptance of her people.

Her husband, Goldberg, would never abandon his ego forever. It would always be at the tip of his tongue, waiting to constrict his next opponent, whomever they might be. He would call his wife, Priscilla, a coward, if he knew that she had abandoned herself because he loved her self. He would destroy everything about the adventurer groups, because one, he had a personal vendetta against certain people whom he held accountable as individuals there and because two, he hated the idea that a human being, such as Priscilla, should give up their humanity (individuality) for anything.

Their children were intelligent children who studied at home instead of taking formal schooling, emphasizing uniqueness over structure. Even though Goldberg loved this, Priscilla agreed to this for another main reason. She had past trauma with formal schooling when a guy got too reckless since he believed that forcefulness and assertiveness meant having bad social skills and therefore accidentally confrontational and aggressive. Though, this only became traumatic because she was already being pushed to excel as a woman. Her mother expected her to excel when Priscilla showed much more skill and indepedence than her brothers at many extremely challenging activities. This included learning multiple instruments, painting and drawing, writing fiction and technical writing, dancing, and singing, among others. This was more than just getting the word "Done" on each activity. She was a very obedient, motivated, and dedicated child growing up, and she could spent the whole day everyday learning. Her experience was also the reason for homeschooling, since she went through it herself. Her mother effectively expected her to be symbol for women, and Priscilla accepted this and her mother's guidance in her growth, which was why she went through with homeschooling despite her trauma. Because of this acceptance, she held full blame on the aforementioned guy instead for her trauma.

In the end, Priscilla was indeed just a regular woman, and her husband balanced this by being the most egoistic piece of crap any one ever was. And that was a great thing. She wanted to be in the background of someone more shining anyway, emphasizing the role of the just-a-woman.

After falling asleep and waking up hours later, Goldberg was walking, greeting others and confronting several different younger adventurers who still had the sneaky, finger-twirling look in their eye. He hated dishonesty and a lack of integrity among his peers, perceiving them as a slight against him. If Priscilla told him that she was a witch, anyone that quietly badmouthed witches would get a confrontation from him, even if he was supposed to hide it.

His ego demanded being blatant.

Chapter 11 - The Burden of Dreams and the Cruelty of Reality
At the mines, where Goldberg arrived, Billy was taking off his clothes, feeling that his shirt was too hot. His shorts were still on, but he needed to get a breather. He was too tired of trying too hard to think about whether people cared or not. He was a kid who just wanted to rest and take a break. Every time he had to think about rocks, money, and people, he already felt exhausted. So he sat down and just relaxed his shoulders, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath: a perfect moment for him.

With that said, Goldberg greeted and conversed with him anyway and the rest of the boy group. Later, he found some camaraderie, as he added that he should train them in battle. Overall, he was outstandingly professional when it came to his current task. This task only formally required him to protect these kids who were supposed to be miners or apprentice miners.

Meanwhile, Billy imagined himself as a man of cool things with riches and stuff. This man was fat and had rings on his hand. He had a top hat and armor with cool clothes. He had a round body shape, and his legs were tiny. He wanted to be this cool.
thousand giants
So he grabbed some rocks and combined them together, imagining himself as this cool guy.

A blast of magic flew from this rock, hitting the wall.

His silly childish imagination made it.

Astounded, Goldberg saw the rules and logic falling to the ground, as the emotions and childishness of a boy dared to create beauty.

The magic was still busy showcasing awesome power, colors floating around. Wheee!

Billy tried to do it again, and all the other boys did the same thing, following his simple advice: "See mind be!"

They all blasted magic from the rocks, and Goldberg recognized this—it was magic, not just any childish technique, but the formal kind.

They learned how to cast magic while in this isolated place for several days. And they did it without studying theory.

Before Billy was able to cast magic again, Goldberg stopped him when he remembered an adventurer exploding after casting too much magic in a desperate situation.

He and Millie, a monster hunter and one of the several women part of the boy group, followed protocol by stopping the boys. Before they potentially died, the magic ended.

In the end, the childishness was necessary. But Goldberg and Millie saved them because of the formal protocals they registered to memory.

"Good job guys," Goldberg said, resolving their fears.

Everyone was laughing, Goldberg too.

The day was finally over, tears were shed, and the song of love and hope never died.

In the night, Goldberg stood beside his children.

Internally, he saw himself in a mirror, and he recognized that he was a human. But he also saw goblins, monsters, people, the boys, Millie, his wife, and his children. He saw that he was incapable of fully capturing them to memory, but he could at least try. Today, their lives would be meaningful. Today, their lives would mean something against the stupidity of this fictional world. He was ignorant whether this world was just some kid's imagination, but if it was, he would just laugh at himself because it would not change a damn thing.

In reality, the kids' voices pierced through the air, clasping the textures of the lines of the walls and door frame. They were but members of the world that was their home.

He was still far away from murder and destruction, but he would guarantee them.

Tomorrow, he would kill a man, put a sword against his head, and pull the trigger, and then, he was dead.

This man was himself, shedding each individual skin of himself until he became the epitome of grace and beauty.

The children, his own and members of the boy group, could only savor their existences so much before he inevitably clashed with theirs to the point of bringing them far away into a place of peace and hope and a sense of devastation of past suffering.

He would not become someone's plaything.

The next day, on day 11, he presented himself before the adventurer guild, holding his upside-down sword, the tip of it on the ground, his hands clasping the top of the handle, standing with legs apart in an established manner.

He was the lord of hosts, and he would strike down his opposition.

They expected him to go along with work as usual, grabbing tickets or requests and going along with that order. Then, he would say goodbye politely to the person at the counter and maybe bicker with some youngins there hiding at the corner. He was just some guy.

Some guy? Some guy!

He was the everything! Not just some guy!

He grabbed the ticket and politely said thank you before leaving simply.

He realized that the desire to be kind was ingrained into him.

No, he was not nice. He was a monster.

He had to be a destroyer or something.

He had to remove this world's nature of tying him, protecting him, and removing him from the equation.

He would put him somewhere that made sense.

He ran to the caves, hoping to find some overpowered magic that enabled him to destroy everything. The wish of stumbling upon an old wizard that taught and granted him spells of untold power. The wish of staring at the night sky and receiving a blessing from God with a note attached that said: "You shall become everything. Goodbye." He was that aggressively hopeful.

When he saw that the world was chaotic, he relied on the order of waking up, following the same routine, going to work,and finishing his job for the day. He said that today could be great if he decided to vanquish everything.

Why should he obey social order?

He wanted to destroy the sense of helplessness he felt.

But he felt this and kept going anyway. For decades, he did this and just kissed, embraced, and make love with this helplessness like a loving spouse. Why must he dare allow himself to be this way!

He grabbed a sword and attempted to do something with it. But the scabbard was still on. People were not threatened. They shouldn't be. That wasn't the point. People shouldn't necessarily fear him. Instead, he wanted to be loved for who he was and still be normal.

This normal required that he finally get rid of the evil order. But any criminal act would be against his beliefs either. He could stare upon nothing and wait for it to move.

He was nothing.

He needed to break free while avoiding becoming a monster in the traditional folk tale sense.

He decided that he should kill in order to declare that he was a human being and not just a slave to the established way of things. He remembered the goblins and ran.

The goblins would provide him with an alternate route, and if he could control them. Then, maybe he could control his destiny.

He abandoned his job as a guard of the boy group, marking his first divergence from social order.

When he sought and he found a goblin, it greeted him. After a period of silence where they gauged each other's reactions, it handed him a bag and a request. This was analogous to the tickets or requests at the adventurer guild.

The request was to kill 5 rabbits, but here it meant that if he could kill 5 rabbits, he could kill 10. If he killed 10, it meant 50 dead. If 50, then 100 dead. If 100, then a human.

As time ticked and his manic rage upon the bodies of rabbits moved, so did his conviction that this was wrong intensified.

Right before he killed a human, he stopped and attacked the goblin instead, tearing it apart with his sword.

This was just as bad, if not worse. Yet it was socially acceptable.

He took out his helplessness in a "healthy" manner.

"Noooooooooooo!" Goldberg saw that he could never destroy the society that birthed him.

His wife and children only linked him to it.

Grieving, Goldberg felt like he was giving birth to Suffering through his actions, and then, he saw that the only thing a man must do was become everything.

So, he kept walking, repeating the same line of thought and reaching the same conclusion. He convinced each time that he was about to do it, only to fail at the end, only to convince himself again that he was going to do it this time (next time).

It was this cycle that defined him, rather than the hypothetical result of this supposed progression of thought.

He would push the rock up the hill.

Similarly, elsewhere, outside of the mines, Billy was pushing a literal rock down a hill, as he was finally broken free from the chamber. Now, behind him, Notch and Shadrach, along with Millie and the rest of the boys. Today, they would be battling the walk back home.

Billy's rock was playful, and it was kindhearted like a witch who only cared about others. Through playing, Billy expressed himself.

Grand dreams sprouted in the distance, and he only needed to adjust his lens to see them. He was already on the way.

"A sword and a knife. Where is Goldberg?"

They saw a sword and a knife on the ground, but things happened based on order, at least according to people's understanding of the world. All people made up each slice of a pie, and each slice presented with a distinct rare set of events. This sword and knife was one of those rare events.

Behind them, like the beasts that killed Maverick, the reason for this sword and knife emerged. This stood with its feet addressing the earth, its mane like a beating collapse of a building. Every time it stumbled, it raged upon the earth, collecting dust and shoving each momentary doubt out of its mind in constant motion. It was a monster, mechanistic, unlikely to feel without a predetermined path toward violence, similar to people.

As mentioned earlier, the boy group's guard, Goldberg, was gone.

Consequently, the boys were already meeting an entity outside their arranged paths.

"A troll!" some of the boys said.

The troll ran at a high speed with a top of over 100 miles per hour. It grabbed the boys and crushed them.

Their blood and flesh flew in the air, meeting silence, meeting God.

The boys were right. They were helpless.

The troll killed 80\% of them before it recognized that it was having too much for food. So it just let the rest leave.

The boys were alive, but they were no more. Their potential was cut short, and they were just about to burst into flame like juvenile eagles on the cusp of a grand adventure.

Millie slashed and crushed the troll's arm, reducing herself to a flying mess of colors. Her body lay next to Billy. He screamed.

Millie was gone, and her body was next to him, lying down softly like a spouse in the middle of the night still longing for some kisses. She was a beautiful woman, and her life was cut short. But if it wasn't beauty that killed or prevented her from dying, then did beauty matter in the first place?

Billy flailed his arms, the troll's shadow meeting him.

Chapter 12 - The Aftermath: Bonds, Dreams, and Consequences
Shadrach was there, writing down notes of the event.

Notch was still busy considering whether he should go to the park or go home.

No one was there, as mentioned earlier.

They were still back at home or at the mines or heading from the mines. They were hapless.

One boy laughed, still thinking about the joke one of the his late friends made.

Their friendships were secure in their heads, but tomorrow, they would wake up.

The notes that Shadrach made were useful, but that was it.

Tomorrow, this event would be shared like fresh doves in the morning sun, quietly beckoning the flute of horror and normalcy.

If the pain of leaving them by abandoning his job of protecting them to pursue growth was worth it, Goldberg asked the city to let him know.

He was shaking. They would be heroes he said. He would become...

He killed several goblins, becoming a bane.

He kissed the troll alongside over a hundred other adventurers, all set on avenging the boys despite their lower status.

The troll was lying like a shark out of water, tortured, but it was free to feel.

A days after the incident, on day 12, Goldberg and many others would join the discrimination against goblins and their monster kind, because a monster killed his friends.

But, internally, Goldberg automatically blamed this troll rather than entire monster kind, including goblins. He was just impulsive and emotional when he killed the goblins, considering that his society promoted monster hunting, especially in the night.

The boys were alive, and they didn't die because they were alive. They were surely alive, and every time, they were alive. They lived.

They didn't die. They lived.

They were living.

Goldberg met them. He counted them and saw about 60, but he wasn't that good at counting anyway. So who cared?

He met the boys, and they looked sad. So he made a joke. They got angry, but he was just saying hi.

He didn't know how to talk to them, and he knew that the boys were dead. But he didn't know how to talk to those who survived.

In reality, he was talking to Shadrach and Notch. Billy was dead inside.

Since the boys suffered long enough, it was good that they got rewards.

The boys realized if they could die at any time, they should experiment with Goldberg regarding magic. So abandoning mining, they decided to blast magic everywhere.

They decided to blast everywhere.

The magic flew with sparks.

Goldberg kept helping them and aligning them.

The boys were so smart that they were able to shoot several rocks.

Goldberg encouraged them, even if this was not his joke anymore.

Today, he was helping a bunch of traumatized kids hope and believe in their dreams. This meant that he would be there when they recognized that achieving their dreams often meant sacrificing themselves in the process.

So he would be there for them.

The boys were sure they would make it. They had the guts to try at least.

They saw people in fairy tails go through shit and still survive. It was likely that they would win too because they were that awesome.

They were cool, or whatever word made them feel better.

They were everything.

Goldberg smiled.

The boys stared at the walls, seeing that the magic they did barely did any damage to the cave.

Today, their dreams would come true.

An explosion erupted from the walls, where several goblins arrived, staring at Goldberg who killed one of their messengers. These goblins were Marchacha goblins, and they were here to arrest and reprimand him.

This was an opportunity for the boys, since the goblins wanted information and the boys wanted power. Their collaboration would be sweet.

The boys entertained the goblins, pushing Goldberg who let them do it with all the guilt he held in his heart already. Instead of being like this forever, he walked forward and showed that he was willing to let his life end if it meant that he could be honest for once.

This was his agency and moral integrity.

He won, as the goblins chained him up and moved him aside.

Priscilla, his wife, and Nash and Leia, his children, were going to have to adjust to new life circumstances.

His loud mouth was finally gone.

Even if the boys had dreams, they were still nervous around goblins, so the goblins gave them space. To take advantage of this opportunity, they told the boys that if they wanted to have a practical conversation, the boys had to be strong enough to impact their district. They gestured at Goldberg as an example of someone with influence.

The taste of delicate movements of the tongue along with excessive saliva accompanied their fight-or-flight attempts to compose themselves and communicate before the ant-like goblins left.

It was too late, so they assessed their wins today to seize control.

They would win, and they would use others as stepping stones to get ahead, even the ruthless goblins.

In the background, the city experienced flowers, the taste of cooked meat and rice, the way the sun touched the horizon, the smell of food and drink, the movements of various citizens along the coastline, the moon's ethereal rage upon the darkness, the faint and subtle variations of paint on murals, the lovely smiles of children getting gifts, the drowning flavor of being underwater in the sea, the cries of hope, the sounds of cloth obeying the wind, the conversations, calls of birds, and barks of dogs, the tapping of wooden tables, the sounds made when people adjusting their sitting, the steps across the rock, the dancing senses of the dividedly lit streets, the gracious lettering of shop signs, the robust wooden wagons as they bore weight, and the usefulness of every word spoken in turning the wheel of society around.

When the boys won their battles, they would be part of the wheel.

In chaos, there was order.

Anyway, "The fatal incident of the apprentice miner boys", as the incident was referred to in information outlets, happened for a similar yet considerably distinct reason relative to the fatal incident with Maverick and his fellow laborers.

With a death rate of around 7 per 1,000 people annually and an approximate population of 10 million to 40 million, the country where these incidents had happened expected 70,000 to 280,000 deaths annually. This meant that these incidents, although terrifying and very sad, really were just rare ways to die, given the more common yet still predominant causes of death.

Since adventurers were very impulsive and their contributions ranged widely due to how random dungeons were as a pillar of the economy, income and market were unstable, especially in businesses that catered to adventurers, and investors were uncertain. Since prices were fluctating, speculative investment increased, exacerbating price swings. This was why the government was investing more into mining operations even after the fatal incident of the apprentice miner boys. In fact, this incident boosted exposure of mining to the masses. This made the government's transition toward promoting mining from adventuring natural. Moreover, the government was trying hard to implement regulation on adventurers, but this was proving to be a challenge. As for the reason of this, providing a safety net for adventurers was essential to make sure that the regulation didn't end up becoming counterproductive. Understanding the impact of adventurers on the economy was also crucial, so research of this and forecasting was emphasized. As for the adventurers, the government encouraged them to save, get insurance for injuries, equipment damage, quest failure, and magical tool, treasure, and artifact loss during a quest, collaborate with investors in regard to profits from quests, and join guilds and associates, as a large proportion of them still tried to go "lone black knight".

In the end, the villains were just people who thought they were special, but in reality, they were acting accordingly statistically.

Basically, despite the chaotic nature of incidents and whatever, society maintained social order and even expected events statistically.

Moreover, a fatal or traumatic incident, if one was involved, felt like society was collapsing, but the thing was, society went on and expected stuff like this to happen.

But people were addressing these issues, and one of them was Priscilla, the wife of the adventurer Goldberg, who was doing more than just being a symbol for women. In fact, it was because she was this symbol that she addressed broader but still devastating issues that ravaged the nation such as disease, poverty, and such.

She was doing more than just talking about them. In fact, she was so mad that she decided to go forth and destroy the enemy.

"Now, I know some of us want to move on from this incident, but it's not fair to those who lost their lives. It's not fair to people. We cannot forget them. We must put our hearts forward. I know words just sound like dirt right now, but please trust me. Trust our adventurers. Trust the people to make the right choices as they consider who they're electing for the next era of taking responsibility for issues that continue to destroy human lives. Goblins, disease, death, and malpractice seem to just destroy all of that. I don't want that. Me and everyone here doesn't want to continue this way. In regard to the incident, do we have to keep going like this? No. No. No."

The adventurers agreed with her but hated the talking, demanding fellow adventurers to take action and boldly help the community, moving forward.

To address the issue, the adventurers decided to take a proposal to continue to build barriers in the wilderness, since the city spread laterally rather than vertically with the miners' help. Though, Leroy, a mining operation leader, was disappointed that they withheld support for miners to focus on other issues.

On a related note, in one of the adventurer parties, a leader said to demoralized members: "I know you guys want to tear society down for letting this happen, but we have to just get this done. Now, it's not going to happen again. It can't—" He noticed that one member was grumbling, so he changed his approach. "Were their lives meaningless? No! They weren't!" To conclude, he kept going, arming himself, preparing for a military confrontation with his members right alongside him.

In any case, regarding the barriers to be added, they were additions to existing barriers. This barrier building also addressed old barriers. This meant repairing and even addressing the need to demolish ones that misalign with new standards of effective beast and monster stopping.

As for where monsters came from, they spawned or appeared suddenly in the night time and often stayed alive in the shade of the day, but they burned in the sunlight. When it came to beasts, they lived similar to humans in having communities and being born. However, the troll was an exception among the monsters in the "monsters burns in the sunlight" rule or observation.

Indeed, adventurers attacked monsters in the night, because they often accumulated outside the barriers and on roads, which created a definite risk for travelers.

This was why adventurers were a necessary force in a chaotic world that tended toward entropy, which included closed systems and open systems such as humans. To expand this, adventurers were one of various regulatory mechanisms used to maintain societal homeostatis: the joys of spring time, weather, and love without the mess.

They were cool.

Chapter 13 - The Child of Sunlight
Moving forward, two days after the fatal incident of the apprentice miner boys, on day 13, in a smaller scene, a small child rode a wagon, tasting the heat. It was like every step of the sun required its great might to beat at the earth as a natural byproduct. This was sunlight and its joys.

Maybe, the night wouldn't be so bad, if the moon had a similar effect.

The child saw her little body and recognized that she could grow taller one day. This was how she connected the sunlight with growth, hers.

Like a sword slashing the sun, the clouds and the wooden parts of the wagon blocked her sight, beause she was getting off, though with a slight disconnection with how much her environment demanded from her. Every step she made was a statement of her great power to change things. But she didn't know that. She would one day recognize her great power.

Today, she was striding. The night sky would demand that she close her eyes, as the morning would request that she assert herself. In these, she was complete.

Surrounding her, a variety of bird sounds and the fresh ambience of the outside with its trees, vegetation, and leaves obeyed her wish to be calm.

Despite the fatal incident, her family was safe. Even if many ends of the city had risk, adventurers gathered in many outer city locations where people could relax.

This was why she would grow to love adventuring. Internationally, countries often specialized in certain goods where they had an advantage. In this city, certain specialized adventurers were in plenty.

This was where she fitted in as a vital component of the essence of society. Regarding just one aspect of her humanity, her fire magic, she could cook food on the go, preserve food, and heat water for drinks, all of which helped regulate people's temperature especially in the rainy season. (2) She could sanitize and remove waste more productively. (3) She could consider controlled fire to enrich soil and eliminate pests. To expand soil enrichment, this included making soil more free, giving them more air to breathe for roots and water, slaying bad pathogens, and making helpful microbes have a fun time. (4) She could join the manufacturing force, specifically processing clothes and wood products. (5) She could become a blacksmith, smelting extracted ores. (6) She could melt rocks or ores in mining and use her heat sense to navigate, as the earth was a noisily hot place. (7) She could smelt ores. (8) She could destroy debris, such as plant ones, through thermal stress, shock, and melting. (9) She could move air, which was a mixture of gases. (10) With some fire magic engine, she could power vehicles such as carriages, boats, and hovercrafts. Basically, she could do something similar to what steam engines did in the sense that intense heat equated to high-pressure steam, which went into an it's-a-cylinder to push pistons. Then, the steam expanded and cooled, creating a vacuum to draw back the piston in an again-and-again process to power things that society needed or else. (11) She could be a surgeon or something similar, because burning wounds or cauterization was awesome. (12) She could be a heating and cool system in homes. (13) she could be an artist or an entertainer. (14) The words "incendiary" and "bombs" should be enough to recognize the potential of fire magic. If society knew the science behind electricity, they would be able to generate it through generators and fire magic.

A human being was essential.

Tomorrow, she would live. The day after tomorrow, she would continue. Two days after tomorrow, she would present herself. Three days after tomorrow, she would grow. Four days after tomorrow, she would reflect on the moment. Five days after tomorrow, she would have done a good job.

Surrounding her, what was 12 days ago when someone's post-death legacy began was forever, ingrained into culture and historical memory, as if that was the case since the beginning of time. Now, the effect of this person's fatal incident, the danger of beasts, became embedded into the minds of everyday people, from children to teenagers to adults.

Throughout time, the "simple" things people went through were momentous because people's lives were full of simple things, the details, science, and complexities being damned. In other words, life was simple because people perceived them to be so, yet these inherently complex simple things were momentous anyway despite this perception.

In reality, the child was all of these ideas in the flesh.

Around the area urban-decorated due to the community structure involved, expressions varied. One, birds flew and tapped on various materials. Two, clouds left their spots and paused whenever someone stared. Three, light represented either hope or invalidation of someone's negative feelings. Four, words floated by like lilies in a pond. Embracing through these, the child fleshed out herself by observing and interacting with people, albeit nervously.

After talking with human beings rather than representations, she saw humanity.

Next to the child, her father and mother appeared, but they were there the whole time. It was now that she recognized that she would find herself supported by parents that knew her potential.

To her father, a doctor, humanity was a "dog", a clear, singular dog climbing to the sky via anatomical, physiological, and psychological attributes.

To her mother, humanity was striving, telling people all the time that things mattered when they didn't, which was why she decided to focus on materials as a "geomancer". Geomancers were more like geologists, but they studied enchanted gemstones, crystals, pearls, and magical minerals. Though, geomancers dabbled in materials science as well via magic solutions, even if they had little clue and theory as to what this world's counterparts of atoms and molecules were. In this world, science, or what was just beginning, and magic was based on principles and methods—methodology—but not necessarily the scientific method, or the counterpart thereof. As they knew it, the only thing that mattered was trying one's best.

On a more relevant note, contrasting the infancy of magic and science, adventurers were nearing the end of lawlessness, lack of structure, and the frontier spirit era. On a positive note, this lack of structure contributed to uniqueness and diversity. This was similar to the early years of things before they became pillars of their industries commanding standardization. These years had that feeling that everything was new and nothing was oversaturated or streamlined to the point of losing personality.

This loss of uniqueness was why some adventurers like Goldberg felt particularly frustrated to the point of abandoning their jobs. For a time, he could be himself somehow even within a society, but his occupation, adventuring, was already getting pressured by officials and public concern. The reputation was still good, but adventuring was being expected to change. One mining industry pillar even openly promoted a societal transition toward promoting new entrants into mining and other laborer communities rather than kowtowing to adventurers.

This accidentally resulted in the fatal incident of the apprentice miner boys when their hired guard, an adventurer, silently forwent going to work, as, unfortunately, a violent troll appeared, directly causing and ending the incident.

To complicate matters further, it's not a direct cause, as the troll was not caused by the end of the "wild west" era of the adventurers. But the fact that the adventurer quit his job was essentially caused by the decline of uniqueness in the end of this era.

This was a crucial fit, closure, in the story.

Meanwhile, despite the fatal incident involving his apprentice miners, the mining operation leader, Nathaniel, reconnected and reintegrated the boys and women who survived this traumatic incident. This meant departing from creating a separate labor detachment and instead inserting them into his main labor force. Though, this would be tricky, as they needed psychological adjustment following the trauma and had little experience. So, he would be stretching himself just to make sure that their unique perspectives were employed into his corporation.

For bonus context, corporations in this world were different from modern ones.

To start, nobles and governments allowed for corporations because it was very challenging to manage magic and its effect on empowerment with a double-edged sword, labor industries, organizations, and unions, among others. So this high level of intricate, compartmentalized structure allowed for magic to be managed across different roles and intentions to maximize economic efficiency and regulations, such as anti-bullying monopoly-breaking anti-trust laws, respectively. In short, corporations and organizations that had well-defined roles and responsibilities made it easier for governing bodies to establish regulations and specializations for each specific aspect of magic. Similarly, a guy could talk, but people were complex. This made talking complex. This made it so that people needed to go away from each other and find communities of the same interests to make talking easy. This was a simplified way to view magic.

But magic was just one big element of the equation. Yet, it was like the economy. It got complex because in real-world cases, it happened in every field.

Returning to the story, the next day, on day 14, 12 boys and 2 women arrived in a wealthy gated neighborhood. Three of these boys already came here, but today, they were here to relax and discuss with their leader, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, under the guise of a trip to a pretty place.

The topic of dungeons was brought up in the form of several ideas.

One, dungeons were just around the corner, but they would have to stock up on resources and goods and strategical thinking. This required more than just resolve. It was a matter of intelligence.

Two, slowing down their aim, or relaxing before they expanded their firsthand experiences in combat, would help them recover their losses and energy. Moreover, it would help them process, assess, and reflect on what they had learned, giving themselves a summary in the process. This was key to productivity.

Three, they needed to address the issues of the organization and effectively collect a list of tasks sorted by priority. Sinclair already made this happen, but it was a helpful addition.

Four, Sinclair had certain demands regarding how best to dress and appear to make sure that they were uniform. He said that this was more than being superficial. This would serve as a reminder of their much needed resource—the approval of the tenured members of their corporation.

Five, if the boys and women wanted to have it easier, they would have to finish close the gap between their knowledge and that of the tenured members. This required studying and learning under their guidance. They needed to be humble, so whatever pretense or ignorance they had before needed to be gone or, at least, not obvious. He mentioned a principle that a few words, humility, and calm go a long way into making someone appear wise.

In conclusion, Sinclair emphasized that these were 5 abstract objectives that required creativity and flexibility to enact effectively. "Know the rules before you 'break' them," he said.

Some of the boys asked what the objectives had to do with dungeons in a composed manner. Though, they felt tongue-in-cheek or disbelieving about Sinclair's five ideas.

Ignorant of this, Sinclair wore his glasses. "Everything."

To summarize, this included preparation, reflecting, addressing issues by a sorted list, adhering to accepted standards even in small things like attire and appearance, attentive humility, flexibility, and creativity.

He continued, "If dungeons and mining were just playing pretend, everyone would be kings and queens by now.

"One of the things people your age soon learn is that the world revolves around you. But it also revolves around itself with all its monstrosities, the needs of this 'world' being the needs of the people. We require much just to survive and thrive, so if you think you know what you want, realize that you only know that. What you need is so much greater in terms of what you need to do to achieve this. People will recognize one day that people struggle, and with that said, it's enough to want to look for solutions. This way, we can prevent having to deal with the struggle of losing a friend or the people necessary for one's enjoyment or existence. Those who cannot love themselves cannot love others. Recognize your worth, and then, you will recognize what people need. Your needs are what I'm exemplifying here."

Cynical, a boy named "Nathan" stood up, about to leave, just barely listening, rubbing himself in discomfort. He and the rest of the boys and women were at the door or near there already. The smell of the rich house was bothering his nose, but it was also because of how Sinclair talked to him and the rest. He felt helpless when Sinclair was involved. Sinclair was basically the reason why they even were here in the first place. Why would he talk to them like that? As if they were immature? In the end, being a 16-year-old boy meant being hard to please, because the world was never going to match his needs completely since he changed, thereby changing the world's needs. Recognizing this would make it easier to be happy.

Fortunately, the rest, however, were glad that they could finally get advice, even if it meant hearing someone talk systematically. He talked in line with how anything worked consistently—a system of methods, intertwining in many different ways. This was second nature to those who knew them.

Overall, the boys only relied on things they learned informally, but it was this informal flexibility and creativity that made them more effective when implementing the solutions Sinclair proposed. However, they understood little about what he was saying formally. The last time he talked, he only gave directions, but now, he was cultivating independence in them.

Yet, the boy who was uncomfortable with Sinclair, Nathan, wanted to be independent from what Sinclair was. But in his case, he equated his cynicism toward Sinclair to being honest with addressing issues. He was justified by virtue of Sinclair's contribution to his friends' death. Namely, he was negligent of hiring only one guard instead of insuring with several replacements. When the punctual guard suddenly abandoned his job and a troll abruptly appeared, the friends that should have been under his protection lost their lives to this troll. The main issue was that his friends were apprentices under Sinclair's care.

Chapter 14 - Dynamics of Compromise and Friction
When in need of help, it was natural to obey and listen in order to receive aid. This was why the rest of the group approved Sinclair's goals even after what he did to them and their friends.

This was a compromise, but it would do for now. Eating stale bad bread today with the hope of eating fried chicken tomorrow was better than nothing at all.

To add to this idea of compromising and less-than-ideal satisfaction in the territory of analytical philosophy, things, as they were when static, didn't exist. Constant things didn't exist. It was only when things accelerated or decelerated that they existed. Dynamic flow and the need to adjust one's reality and methods of self-reference after assessing the current state after a series of chaotic fluctations and complex interactions was essential. Understanding that one's life of constantly improving oneself was not a constant, but an element of a big dynamic world, was crucial. This went the same for the economy. Any value exchange or difference allowed definitions to exist between two values, giving each a definition. Simply, changes gave things definition. Constant things were merely abstract concepts that only gained definitions through change. This was a fundamental part of cognition and Galilean invariance, where the constancy of motion and no motion were indistinguishable, only gaining definition through acceleration and deceleration or change.

As for the boys and women, even before this conversation with Sinclair, they understood this concept of dynamism well via the complexity of the real world, yet their eloquence was limited and specialized elsewhere.

But they would cry if it became tough because they knew they had to.

So when Sinclair accompanied them outside, he saw them crying and wiping their tears, walking and showing camaraderie even now, even after they were the source of each other's bane at one point. If he could help them, he would save them. He would create might and love for them, but he would have to be god on earth. So he moved forward.

He closed the door and returned to his home, where all his books were.

He opened the door to a brown room and opened several books, placing it on a desk. After reading page 157 of a book, he went to another book and continued where he left off. He was around to find a way to understand people.

The books were detailed accounts of people who came from poor backgrounds, and he was reading them to understand the culture, but specifically the psychology of these kids.

He would become much more capable if he could make the right decisions in most desperate times, so an underlying theory would help him achieve this, since he grew up in a wealthier setting.

This was his only way to make sure that their potential in mining and dungeoning was fostered manageably.

Also, he was fine-tuning his refined ability to utilize people better, so he was gaining a lot from this. Each update to his steady good state would mean extending his skill and knowledge increase since the last update. This was excellence.

Earlier, during the quiet interludes between Sinclair's ideas, the boy who was cynical of him, Nathan, asked him why he gave Notch extra money, even though his grievances lay elsewhere. Sinclair said he wanted to pander to his wishes for money, emphasizing that Notch addressed him directly and requested money from him as a semi-joke.

Notch heard the conversation, but he was nervous and coping with grief.

The rest of the boys and women felt similarly.

Billy was crying softly during the entire meeting.

Shadrach was lying down, his face twitching, tears dripping down, suppressing a frown.

Even if Sinclair focused on delivering his ideas, he knew that the only thing he could do was watch them eye-to-eye.

In conclusion, returning to the present, he extended his frustration and anger by outsourcing an adventurer group, worried that he might waste the members of his community again.

Later, at a spot outside an adventurer guild, staring at Sinclair, the leader of the adventurer group only wanted to hear him explain. But Sinclair was just giving short answers. He looked reserved about the whole process. But this was bad, so the leader kept asking open-ended questions, looking at Sinclair for any signs of communication. In the end, he gathered that they should do what Sinclair said first: "Kill 50 goblins, but bring one of my boys Shadrach. He'll record the event."

Sinclair knew that this was a dirty way to do it, and he was putting much trust in Shadrach. But today, he wanted to see if one of them was capable of leading the group. So he chose the one he thought was most keen to learn formally. This way, he could reward Shadrach with that much needed empowerment. As for the rest of the boys and women, he would let them grieve for now. This should help Shadrach make decisions better, because he had responsibility now.

Just like how Shadrach had shown an inclination toward noting down things, Sinclair also made sure several individuals, rather than only one like before a fatal incident that left around 40 apprentice miners dead, was recording everything with the group he did for a resource. Through this resource, he could delegate the agenda of handling other groups in similar enduring milieu to one of his directors. This was crucial since he was the most proficient in terms of leading decision-making. This way, each laborer sub-set fell under several directors rather than only one, as any inclusion of street kids would require the directors' familiarity with the centralized resource on the kids. Though, this multiple-director model, intended to fine-tune checks and balances, would require regular evaluations. In this case, checks and balances addressed concentration of power, but, more relevantly, reliability and accountability.

As for the connection of the incident to his changes, he used one individual to protect the apprentice miners. But when this individual with a high track record abandoned his task, the apprentices lost their lives in a sudden confrontation with a troll. This made him recognize that the one-individual model might need a break. So he decided to start thinking about how to include a multiple-individual model in recording and in the organization structure.

Though, this contrasted his decision to involve only Shadrach as one person to record the events of the adventurer group he hired. Yet, he knew that giving the boys and women a break was crucial. He was not a purely rational person, so he recognized emotional struggles when he saw it. So having only Shadrach record was also a sign to Shadrach that he could stop and join the rest of his friends if he wanted.

The day after the boys and women's meeting with Sinclair, on day 15, an adventurer saw himself in his shadow, sweat streaming down his nape and chin, the heat burning brightly. Next to him, several peers sat.

If he could bring down the government because they didn't speak for them, he might be happy. But the bruises never healed.

He decided to cry.

His peers comforted him, but it was with unveiled anger similar to him.

Tomorrow, they would become supreme people like the marginalized adventurer that killed several civilians in retaliation. They thought that the government and society would never address their problems. Within adventurers, several issues were prevalent. One, competition was getting fierce. Two, entrants were finding zero footing. Three, many factions and monopolies with restrictive, mutually exclusive memberships that required a lifetime commitment were reaching their peak, leaving many marginalized. Four, the time of lawlessness was nearing its end, which also meant that structure was also refining these power structures. If the government decided against addressing these and continued to promote these adventurers, specifically the hegenomy, then the marginalized adventurers would find retribution through violence.

They laughed, seeing the joy in expressing their grief. If they could express this grief in full through their planned attacks tomorrow, they could finally be free to be themselves and still be normal. The marganlized would wake up and jolt the privileged out of their sockets and pillow cases. These privileged would love this earth with them.

The next day, on day 16, their hands were shaking, but they were ready.

One of these attacking adventurers shouted.

A man stared at a dog before seeing his head on the ground. A end result of beheading through several different spells emerged from one of the attacking adventurers.

More men came out of their homes, thinking that the sounds they were hearing was wrong. But even with their magic, just one attack was enough to slay them.

More bodies fell, thudding against the ground.

With their movements on sprint, the adventurers said: "Tomorrow! You shall see the anguished fallen!

"Love shall be heard at the rooftops!"

Meanwhile, several older men were pushing up the heat-blocking covers of a store front to pass.

They looked around the street, seeing that it was quiet.

When they saw that a group of adventurers were running, their eyes widened. These adventurers were distinct from the ones attacking, as they were part of the forces whom the status quo had benefitted. So they were reacting to preserve "tradition" and "culture" by removing any attempt at dismantling the system.

The older men cheered on these good young adventurers, whom one of them even helped get to the high rank that he was through communication.

The attacking adventurers only wasted 18 people with 57 injured from long-range attacks before other adventurers ended them.

This was their final fit, their final bellyache.

Anyway, meanwhile, society would continue.

Society would press on.

It would forget the moments of this day.

But the monsters were out there. Adventurers just needed to go to war with them, and their problems would be solved. If they went to war, they would find happiness. War meant happiness.

The problem was that war existed everywhere and for many different reasons, connecting each element of society together.

The attacking adventurers found that their attack here addressed their issues that hunting monsters, laboring, and the idea of starting a family couldn't distract them from forever.

Later during the day, elsewhere, Sinclair found out that the adventurers he hired requested for a postponement for the job because one of them passed away. He knew about the attack, so he felt frustrated for the first time in a long while.

He said: "The hell is wrong with these pieces of crap! First, they invade my mine. Then, they start killing people! What the hell! Disgusting!"

Personally, Catherine Orlov Sinclair, his wife, was there to ask him about it. She rarely heard him angry, so she sat down and calmly talked to him, as if he was just complaining about the weather. This was her way of dealing with serious issues, effective, neat, dispassionate like the arrangement of items on a clothed table at which Sinclair and her sat.

When it came to politics, she was a card-carrying individual who loved the power that corporations had against the government and unions had against corporations. To her, the government was too busy worrying about fixing remote roads and recording every single trivial action they made to the point of bureaucratic inertia. It was empowering people that she recognized as crucial.

She was the more broader mover of the couple, spending her time dealing with addressing larger implications rather than engaging with minute detail. She hated peripheral incidents and even mocked the government's over-emphasis on addressing the rare, fatal incidents, because it was them who made it happen in the first place through systematic inaction. These incidents only covered a tiny portion of problems, and the truth was that this inaction was making so many more issues. Yet, because these issues misaligned with sensationalism, they were getting sidetracked. Every time the government started addressing them, eye-catching incidents popped up that interrupted this.

Her solution and goals involved extending the government's move of building barriers to address an incident. She knew that if another incident arose, they would leave the plan unfinished and re-focus again, which wasted funds. So she needed to make sure that they finished the job. In truth, it was better that the government focused on finishing the job, even if it took years. This way, skilled workers could emerge, because if the government kept switching and abandoning, it would be nigh impossible for workers to want to specialize. This was why adventurers were also getting so much attention, since they were being expected to handle every issue. In reality, it was impossible to multi-task every sector, need, or issue, and this created a concentration of power that wasn't even effective. So many times, barriers were left unfinished with gaps, because specialty on this issue was absent. As for the reason of this, a subgroup within adventurers were the ones expected to deal with this. But a dedicated permanent specialty aside from this subgroup was necessary for long-term growth and reliability. Laborers like miners existed, but they were given little permanent improvement due to the government being so erratic.

Of course, her solutions were idealistic, considering that the government itself was full of families and nobles with different agendas. She would have to establish a foothold in the government through connections in order to secure even a portion of her proposed solutions. But she knew that taking a public office would limit her power and force her to obey the wishes of the administration. This was why being the partner of a magnate was more meaningful than trying to take an office as a woman.

Back to the moment, she told her husband, Sinclair: "It's not like it's not possible." She was responding to Sinclair's paraphrasing of his iterative discussion with a landed noble regarding fixing a colossal gate. It sounded like a waste of time, but the noble believed that Sinclair's men could help him as part of a larger initiative.

Chapter 15 - The Noble's Struggle: Yearning for Adventure
Two days later, on day 18 Sinclair greeted his miners at a gate, seeing a girl testing her fire magic at the side with her two parents. This was an isolated place now, since the gate was closed for a long time now.

When Shadrach and the adventurer group he hired joined, Sinclair already had several individuals supervise the group. Adventurers had standards, but this time, he was paying extra care into making sure that they made the right overarching decisions.

This decision stretched Sinclair thin, so he only got half of his miners for this job, since these particular ones got performance-based pay. This was because he had to deal with frequent changes in schedule recently. Basically, he employed a mix of fixed-rate and performance-based pay to maximize flexibility.

This was good for the miners he brought, since they were working in an unfamiliar environment, expecting increased pay. This provided an incentive to work hard here when fixed-rate employees would feel depressed.

Seeing the many other groups that came to the gate, Sinclair said: "There's too many of them. What are we going to do?

The noble also wanted to use a performance-based pay for Sinclair and the others he hired. Though, Sinclair wouldn't let this affect the miners.

The noble stood, wearing dungeon armor and clothes. Though, he made sure that the armor were lightweight and had smooth edges. If he truly wanted to go to the dungeons, he could. He liked talking about going to dungeons. But he was stuck to being a noble, and if he wanted to become a normal person with the same achievements, he would need to lose everything he owned. Instead of thinking about how wealthy he was supposed to be, he would rather imagine himself as someone who fought in dungeons for their life. He would read stories of people who did it and show favor toward adventurers.

He often forgot he was a noble, getting glued to seeing himself as those hardworking adventurers. He never felt content having the things he had. He felt more content wanting to struggle, be cool, and normal. The stories he read showed that going through hardships was struggles and still being this super unbeatable force who calmly did everything was the best thing. But the world betrayed him by making him take the responsibilites of a noble. They dared blame him for their suffering. He only cared about being normal, because he saw adventurers as the norm. And he saw the cool adventurers in stories as the norm. He wished he didn't have to supervise the properties of his father, yet here he was, busy all the time. He was so tired of his modern life, and he wanted to live like an adventurer similar to the stories he read. He imagined the shop keeper, the taverns, the adventurous communities, the friendships, the magic, the satisfaction of getting stronger little by litte. He saw it all in his head, but he was stuck to a chair, having to do a job well done. He had to go to work and do the same stuff again and again, living a boring, lonely life. He wished that people cared about him, but no one did. His only escape was the hope that one day, he could be an adventurer. People called him special, since he was a noble. But he was just a normal person. Or, at least, he wanted to be. He wanted to work hard and struggle, fighting against evil and maybe becoming a force that no one could beat. All those who humiliated him, his older fellow nobles, would see him as this successful adventurer who was free to do whatever he wanted. Who cared if he was hated by society, specifically that of the nobles? He was so tired and just wanted to prove himself. He didn't care whatsoever about anything. He just felt like becoming an adventurer. This world was so boring and stupid. He was so tired of people just talking down on him and treating him like he didn't know anything or that he was immature for not being responsible or hardworking.

Though, his desire for dungeons and adventuring came to a point where he kept asking his parents and ordering servants to make everything reflect that. He even bought dangerous potions, equipment, and magical artifacts, all of which were expensive. He was troublesome to his fellow nobles and family because he was so wasteful by buying all of these and not using them in the end.

He reasoned that he was going to give them away to adventurers, but he didn't want to watch others adventure for him. He wanted to do it himself.

But he was never allowed to leave to the dungeons to adventure. If he did go there, he often attracted attention because of his retinue. He was scared of people hurting him for his noble status, making him hate his status even more.

He was living a boring, depressing, and anxious existence, where he had to work according to the expectations of society instead of achieving anything for himself. He hated himself for pretending to care about his duties. His family just wanted him to work hard until he died for nothing but a waste of time.

He hated society for this. But he respected adventurers for actually being straightforward and honest about the facts and what needed to be done—a confidence that he wanted for himself.

If his noble family realized that all of this time and effort toward making all of these pretty barrier structures was a waste of time and actually invested into beating monsters, people would be safe. The fact that people were already supporting adventurers and that his fellow nobles were starting to show signs of opposition toward adventurers was disgusting.

He heard about the recent news that some adventurers attacked and killed civilians. But he thought that it was his fellow nobles who orchestrated the incident to put the blame on adventurers. An agenda in place was making it so that adventurers were the bad guys.

He also heard about the incidents regarding the troll and the beasts, but he blamed nobles for not promoting adventurers enough to go to those areas and protect them. Building barriers was only beating around the bush, and people, particularly adventurers, were necessary to address these issues.

In the end, he was a victim of this society, and he would find a way out of this never-ending grind.

Nobles were traditionally a bunch of fanboys and fangirls of adventurers while happening to control society, so their interests and attendant beliefs became the formal norm.

Back to the moment, Sinclair eyed the noble as he analyzed the other groups that came to the gate to repair it.

The face and posture of the noble and his dirty-looking clothes faced the crowd, his authority embracing his feet as he stood. His hair like a mane, he smiled, saying, "Okay, now, we should get this over it."

The gate would start repairs, which would take a long time, but it also represented a critical geopolitical vantage point. So this was more than just a gate. This was a hand on the archipelagic stage, where its country, among many other cities, states, and countries, grew. The time of hope and war was coming.

In front of tensions, the nobles of this country were facing it. Today, the noble who called the crowd here represented the side of the country where the gate was. His name was Lord John Roger of Trogan, a principality ruled by the House of Notadam, with its residence in the district where Sinclair lived.

First, John sped up the process by having each of them join him at an open lunch here in front of the gate to get people comfortable. They even had shade and many different kinds of food. This made it easier for the group to accustom themselves to the place, because they would be staying here for a long time. It was a commemorative opening to a long, dreary workload.

The time began, and it ticked, each moment implicating every single instance that happened throughout the country and internationally.

Similar to how Sinclair assessed boys by having them run around and do some work, John used the lunch as a way to assess each supervisor and laborer. This way, he could delegate the role of managing the supervisors elsewhere. If he relied too much on others, he knew that his authority would be compromised. So he had to put some effort in, so his closest workers would trust him. Seeing someone you trust address issues at hand and solve them by discussing them and giving people roles was stabilizing.

After the lunch, when the work began, the miners looked at the sun and imagined themselves as little toy soldiers in a prison. If they finished work early, Sinclair promised he would reward them with bread and hot chocolate. This localized pastry was a bread with high egg and butter content, baked with butter and topped with grated cheese and sugar. The hot chocolate was made of pure ground roasted cacao beans, dissolved in water and milk.

This reward was almost everything to them in life today.

They licked their lips, feeling slight heat in their stomach and tense urges when imagining the taste of yummy crackers.

From behind them, John Roger stood beside them and said: "You know, after all this time, I thought I would be able to find a way. There's just so many memories in my mind." He was 40 years old.

He sat on his haunches, taking a humble, familiar posture. "How is it like?"

The miners struggled to understand him. Even if John Roger's words were accessible, his life wasn't, so the nuance behind his words eluded them.

The miners said: "We just mine all day."

John Roger said: "Interesting."

The miners thought he was mocking him, or they mocked him by accident. But they also were not completely sure. They thought that the noble had many very complex thoughts that they couldn't possibly understand. It was just what nobles represented—the pinnacle of understanding and progress. They were the center stage of the world.

But John Roger really felt curious. He wanted to see what it was like to live a life worth living, because he felt that his was a waste of time. He really appreciated and loved the idea of mining all day, as long as he still was himself during this. Of course, he knew that his role as a noble was essential, but he didn't want to be special this way. Just like how it was terrifying being the best in the world, it was terrifying being a noble. Many people only wanted to fit in and be normal, and this included John. If he could be free from this life, then maybe he would be able to be a good person, considering that nobles were too chaotic, overcomplicated, callous, hating, entitled, and nihilistic. He would rather have someone else take his place, because he just wanted to be part of a community, that of adventurers. He was never accepted for who he was as an individual, so instead of continuing to pretend in order to please others, he would rather stop pretending and be honest just for once in his life.

No one would accept him for who he was because he was a noble. When the role became the only way people got to know him, his self-image eroded as well. No one saw him for who he was. He was nothing.

He would become everything by becoming weak, frail, and human—the adventurer he knew symbolized this. The kind of human that kept going no matter what, even if he was nothing. It was because of this that he was everything. It was himself that he was content with, and it was through honesty with the world that he could be honest with himself.

He was tired of being judged for something he was not.

He was not a noble. The noble that he supposedly was had taken its own form and being. He was separate and estranged from it, only serving to house this being. It was no longer his satisfaction to maintain this illusion.

He was just a human being in the end.

If he could reach out...

He told the miners: "What are you guys doing right now, specifically?"

The miners knew he had ulterior motives, considering the sudden break of social norms, the confident tone, the relaxed posture and eye contact, and the history of nobles, among thousands of other things.

They knew that their answers had consequences, so they played it safe: "We're just stripping here before we start excavating." They were here for a construction and land development project, so this answer was correct.

But nobles had their whims, so they couldn't help but keep their postures frozen.

They realized they made a mistake and forgot to call him "Lord", but they were too terrified to move and beg for mercy.

John Roger didn't like the word "Lord", so he only let people use it in formal settings. But he preferred if people called him by his name alone.

Getting up to leave, he said: "Okay."

Nobles had celebrity status, similar to seeing one's favorite famous "humble" idol in person, so they were both exhilarated and intimidated for their life.

If he wanted to, he could send a military force and try how well their skin responded to blades, arrows, and magical projectiles.

The next day, on day 19, John Roger, after all the pain and suffering, decided to carry on as usual, because that was what adventurers did.

If adventurers betrayed him, he wouldn't be happy. If anyone had a tantrum, that would be fine. But the problem was that he was a noble. He had more than just a retinue of armed followers. These followers were meant to be stronger than adventurers.

Everyday beasts were vastly weaker than adventurers, and common monsters were usually at their mercy.

So John Roger would be able to tear down adventurers if he wanted to.

Now, this was merely security. The complicated aspects happened in governance and management, rather than just physical power dynamics.

With that said, John Roger's presence was complete, and Sinclair only had to do as he was told, which meant supervising his miners.

John's face and shadow lay upon them all, the land, the land development project, the groups of hundreds of laborers under respective supervisors in distinct spots, and the interactions between them to assess overall progress iteratively.

For now, he was their god.

Chapter 16 - Trapped in the Dungeon

Author's Note

I apologize for the sudden hiatus of 3 months, 20 days, 16 hours, and 27 minutes. I appreciate your understanding.


Moving away from John, relocating focus inside a dungeon, 2 days ago, on day 17, Shadrach was watching the holes in the walls and the various curbs within the giant squarely nested chambers with corridors connecting each chamber. The zombies appeared from the ground, coming up from pistons. It looked like they came from an hidden area under the chambers.

The zombies were getting killed with so much gore, and the adventurers were shouting, not with joy, just with fear whenever a zombie came too close or bit them.

Shadrach's abstracted gaze was that of emotional detachment from the traumatizing things around them. This was analogous to the one he showed in the fatal incident where around 40 of his fellow apprentice miners died horrifically to a troll.

He half-slept in the dungeon, as the adventurers were staying there before passing onto the next chamber.

When he saw and heard one of the adventurers sneezing, he came to his senses and began writing down what he saw.

He wrote: "Zombie, zombie, blood." He thought that he could explain later in further detail, but he was exhausted.

In this setting, the dungeon and the surrounding, infrequently intruding caves was large and very complex, and it had so many intrusions like dikes, sills, and laccoliths, especially since volcanic activity was frequent in the archipelago. The surface of the walls often looked altered and deformed around these intrusions. But intrusions also formed mineral deposits on the cave walls. Basically, the cave looked colorful and diverse in texture with some visible ores.

Meanwhile, Shadrach thought he was free, but every time he wanted to understand, he felt himself freeze up.

If he stopped caring, maybe, he would free. But his body went against his choices. It was choosing for him. He was stuck in a body he couldn't control.

Terror, fear, loss.

If he became god, then maybe he would become free from his torment.

The 13-year-old boy imagined the nobles and had a feeling that they secretly played the same children's games of life and knew all the answers.

He couldn't even word out what he felt. That was what it felt like to be young and bereft of formal education.

He had a mouth, but he couldn't scream.

Instead, the adventurers showed him one more alternative: violence.

If he could learn how to commit to memory their movements, fighting stances, attack and dodge moves, group dynamics, and finishing combos, then he would be able to render his grief transposed into a rustic, murderous glory.

He wrote down two more words: "Remember move." He meant "dynamics" by "move", but his knowledge was limited for now.

He was just a regular guy who lived a pauper life, so instead of thinking one-sidedly about violence, he remembered his other options. This included his journey from the structural city to the dungeon of the wild.

This wild was the trees, the sugar canes, the lakes in the distance, horizontally moving clouds, rising sun, the gray skies during rare days of rain in the dry season, and hints of a district on the horizon, among others. As for the vegetation, they included fruit-bearing ones such as banana trees and moringa plants, palm trees such as areca palms, dracaena and dragon trees, flowering trees such as orchid trees, shrubs such as hairy figs, vines and climbers such as ivy gourd, grasses and grass covers such as buffalograss, medicinal and useful plants such as okra plant, and miscellaneous plants such as golden dewdrops.

If vegetation felt like a dead fish, then the wild had animals too: warty pigs, deers, and crocodiles, among others. Indeed, these mentioned ones would survive 98 percent deforestation.

Third and fourth, the facet of beasts, as opposed to regular animals, and monsters such as zombies, skeletons, trolls, and goblins introduced a threat that initially seemed to align only with magic and adventurers. But their interplay of each other along with vegetation and animals was interdependent. The role of beasts and monsters was to slow down human encroachment and expansion, especially considering that magic empowered humans.

To give a more dynamic perspective, all these vegetation, animals, beasts, and monsters engaged in an exchange process, wherein each of their byproducts, including solid and liquid waste, bones, feathers, wool, milk, eggs, and leather, and their carrion itself served as a commodity for the economy, or natural ecosystem. When it came to the nutritional strategies and social environment of animals, they served as the commodities of their community structures. These represented their "coping mechanisms" to navigate their "society", or ecosystem, amid alien effects such as slash-and-burn agriculture intended to create mountainside swiddens.

So humans were more than just a society and economy in itself. They controlled the natural ecosystem.

Finally, the human Shadrach would build any city, explore the land, and do whatever he wanted.

Tomorrow, he and rest of his friends would meet the goblins for a possible mercenary work, hopefully with employee benefits this time. His current boss Leroy didn't even assist the family of his late apprentice miners after his negligence that contributed to them dying brutally.

Shadrach and his friends would get the win.

He looked up toward the sky, only to stare at the openings, crevices, and fissures of the dungeon.

Now that he was in the dungeon for over 18 hours now, he finally started a conversation with the adventurers instead of only answering questions from them. Namely, he asked the adventurers when they got a 2-min break before the next wave of zombies: "Where's the thing... that does the thing?"

"Huh?" said one of the adventurers, as he moved down a practically empty potion from his mouth.

Shadrach began trying to explain to them what he meant.

In his mind, he had been trying everything, so it was just that he completely get rid of any presumptuous thoughts. This was his last chance to make it. Even if it did not seem like a lot, he would make sure that this time was his time to shine. He had no wishes to start over. Today, he was growing the tree of growth whether it would come along easy or not.

Two days later, on day 19, the miners noticed the one of the other groups a half distance away eating chicken, raising their brows, since it was a luxurious food. They wondered if this was a power play.

Incidentally, as for the background of the luxurious chicken, many years ago, it was declared to be a luxury good. Now, at the present around several weeks ago, the king raised the luxury tax on chicken to 150 percent of the sale price. This was in order to prepare for the funding needed to transition away from adventurers. Basically, a fixed-rate miner now had to work a full day to afford one-third chicken. So chicken became state-owned from the farm level. Though, privileged citizens were exempted from raising chickens.

For bonus clarity, the king's change led to merchants with concessions selling chicken for inflated prices. The king justified the taxes by saying that people could instead eat pork which he deemed healthier than chicken and which would support the local pork farms and breweries while chicken led to money leaving the country. As for why he mentioned the breweries, pork was often paired with beer.

In the end, the king just wanted a little money, as the treasury was expected to be empty after adventurers were not the main focus of the government anymore.

With all that said, the miners still had the characteristic deliberation of people. If the miners could find a way to navigate around trouble, the removal of which was requested from them, maybe the regal noble would pay their boss Sinclair heed. This would trickle down to them, even if it was just a lick of commendatory saliva. Any praise had connotations far beyond their feeble lives. Hopefully, they would rise, even by a small addition to their pay. This would be exemplary to them. "Yummy!" they said to humor each other, thinking about this concern while tasting the most delicious bread.

They began to speak in one of the common languages besides English.

"Hey, gusto mo naman kumain diyan," said one of the miners, Ronaldo, his hair golden and his eyes sparkling blue, "pero wag mo naman tapunin yan."

He was mildly disapproving of the fact that the person he was talking to, Carter, chose to sit down at a certain spot. He also warned him regarding throwing something away.

"Talaga ba?" added another, Alice, wearing a beautiful red coat. He regarded himself a gentleman despite the lady's name.

The statement of doubt "Talaga ba?" could be translated directly to "Really?"

A third, Carter, replied to Ronaldo, his wide smile similar to that of a fox: "Ha? Parang nakapulot ko lang ito ngayon. Anong meron sayo? Kung gusto mo talagang tapusin ito... Tapusin mo gamit ang iyong puso!"

Carter was acting wittily by feigning confusion and pretending to have only picked up a certain thing now. He said that if Ronaldo really wanted to finish something, he should finish it with his heart.

Direct translations of their words would fail to get the nuance, but they burst into laughter as part of some unknown inside joke.

A fourth miner among them was merely listening, feeling comfortable with an erect back and an attentive disposition. His dissimilarity by not laughing was normal and a characteristic part of group dynamics. Not everyone needed to be attentive, the center of attention, or engaged in humor all the time. It was just that when a joke landed, it hit hard. If it didn't, they were still friends. It was more than just a transaction of jokes. Their relationship was more than just an audience and the funny guy. It was dependent on shared experiences and a sense of belonging.

It was about the connection and support they offered each other and the understanding that they were more than just a group of individuals—they were a tight-knit community.

But this community extended far beyond this little squadron. It was a collection of individuals under different circumstances, all longing after the same thing: success, happiness, and friendship.

They knew that their lives relied on this tight unit of awesomeness.

So instead of pretending to be special or edgy, they did their thing and were honest with each other and their flaws and vulnerabilities. It was a place of acceptance, hope, and integrity.

They could be themselves yet part of a group where they could be normal.

They didn't have to pretend to get attention. They just were part and parcel of a group that provided each other with a chance and a voice: a way of life.

So if danger struck, they and everyone else would be scrambling, all within a complex world full of hegenomies and terrors of the skies. They would fight in this iterative world that longed to tear itself apart—a desire for chaos: entropy.

The isolated and marginalized ones that received no support would tear down the love these kind people embraced in the process while targeting the human devils of this earth.

Meanwhile, the boss of the miners, Sinclair, wearing a red coat, emerged nearby. Moreover, he gave a polite thumbs-up to one miner, Alice, who also wore a red coat.

He was the reason why Alice could wear a coat in the tropical heat, having rewarded the miners with bread that had magical properties, specifically those that cooled the consumer. Even if the coat insulated the heat, wearing a coat was cool (badass).

To give some context, the rich people wore coats made of abaca, piña (pineapple fibers), and banana fibers in the tropical heat, using magic to keep cool. Since simple clothing was considered to provide less variety, they persisted. This influenced non-rich people.

Elsewhere, in a dungeon far from the city center, the only relevant people having life-or-death action currently were the group of adventurers Sinclair hired to accompany Shadrach and kill 50 goblins.

The problem was that goblins were hard to find. This was unfortunately because they didn't go to the dungeon on the day Sinclair wanted them to. Instead, they had gone a day after the initial date due to one of them passing away. In the end, the adventurers decided to give up. But not before one more monster fight.

Several arrows flew from skeleton archers, and the adventurers fell to the ground.

He grabbed a healing potion and drank it, making the arrows fade into dust.

Two more arrows flew, one piercing a shield, and hurting the knee of one adventurer barely having enough time to switch rotations with the group.

The group rotated, dancing around like a fire dragon.

The skeleton archers and zombies merely focused on attacking the closest adventurers: a parade of angels seeking out evil men.

Two zombies blocked the way of one adventurer, grabbing his arms.

The skeleton used his shield to push them away, but he was down for the count after using too much energy to retreat.

Five more adventurers currently in action remained.

Two adventurers slashed two zombies' heads, but the temples of the zombies were thick, only feeling a slight rotation.

The adventurers did a combo, slashing several times subsequently, burtsing a heads of the zombies like watermelons.

The rest of the zombies chased one adventurer, grabbing him and biting his head.

The adventurers threw potions that splashed all over the adventurer, preventing his death.

The shield potions provided a damage buffer that prevented the adventurer from dying, while the healing potions healed the adventurer back to full health.

The zombies kept attacking, as the skeletons interrupted the charge of the group of adventurers.

Since the place where they fought was small, they had to keep changing positions, resulting in exhaustion easily.

The adventurers backed away, one of them pulled away the adventurer who was being grabbed all over his body.

Shadrach watched and wrote down certain symbols and words in a disjointed but concise manner, trusting his memories to understand himself later.

Once the fight finished, the monsters and adventurers halted their fight for now, maybe until they met again.

Earlier, a punch of rewards dropped from the monsters' bodies, so it was necessary that Shadrach try to pick up one of them for himself.

The adventurers were concerned for their safety, as they were focused on getting in and out as fast as possible, marking milestones in a shorter time relative to monsters killed and price of resources and repair. They were necessarily economical as characteristic of their high–fatal-injury-rate profession.

They were professional: they wiped their things dry, stored them in segregated pouches, discarded trash, cleaned up themselves, and cleaned up after themselves. Moreover, they wrote a report of the activities of their party. This was why they relied on adventurer guilds because of the complicated bureacratic process of abiding by the law. Their responsibilites sounded simple enough; though, they risked their life every time. This meant constant training. People didn't have periods of training and then stopped because they were strong enough. Training happened everyday, and skipping training meant atrophy of both muscles and magic. Taking breaks was great, but they trained everyday for 2 hours. They either chose to take breaks one day a week or for 4 days every month. That was a suggested practice of successful adventurers. But the most successful adventurers did everything second-nature, and they were flexible enough to rely on context to switch up methods and plans. Overgeneralized suggestions were merely for entry-level newbies. "Newbies" referred to those who had spent two years working under the supervision and guidance of more experienced senior colleagues.

"It depends," was a common answer from successful adventurers, since techniques and guidelines faded into the background when a master was on the field. All masteries have been turned instinctive, similar to a whirlwind that knows not the science behind its greatness. It just was.

As for a status reminder of the overall world 19 days since Maverick's first appearance, all aforementioned parties were currently separated. These parties included (1) Shadrach and the adventurer party, (2) the miners absent in the gate building, (3) the miners present, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, the other groups, and the noble John Roger of Trogan, (4) what was left of the boy group of Sinclair, which included Nathan, Robert, Billy, and Notch, 7 other boys, and 2 women, (5) Goldberg and the Marchacha goblins, (6) the followers of Sinclair, (7) the troll, (8) the 47 friends, 20 contacts, and 15 enemies that the boy group made by networking, (9) the task master Sprutnoa, and (10) the laborer Inframark. Other less immediate parties include officials, adventurers, and nobles. As for deceased parties, they included Millie, Maverick, a portion of his fellow laborers, 48 of the apprentice miners of Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, and the marginalized adventurers who attacked citizens.

When it came to the dynamics between the living parties, they interacted indirectly through the wide circuit of the city. Now, as for the distinction between the city, its districts, and its country, the country and the city were the same. The "country" often referred to the region rather than the city, which was a nation-state.

As for the height of their activities, the boy group used to have the most action. But now, due to the traumatic event, they were now resting and in a state of recovery. The fighting between monsters and adventurers were ongoing, but the adventurer Goldberg was still imprisoned.

Now that most of the aforementioned individuals were either dealing politically, in a state of rest and recovery, or undergoing monotonous work, the perspective of a simple adventurer's life should be sufficient.

Speaking of which, this simple adventurer was sitting down at the city center.

Chapter 17 - The Unveiling of Charles Finch
Regarding the name of the simple adventurer sitting down at the city center, it was "Charles Finch."

If he wanted to do something, he did it. He had an in-depth understanding of the world, and he was old enough to have had been part of good and bad again and again for 20 years. It was not the everyday mood shifting. It was being part of communities that went well and part of ones that went sore to the point of dissolution. He saw all kinds of ways people showed kindness through empathy, and he saw all kinds of ways people manipulated another using a high level of emotional intelligence.

So he could easily intercept his thoughts and where his biases lay. But he also continously pushed himself to his lips.

This was not why he signed up to become an adventurer five days ago. He did this because he felt that sooner or later, he had to face what was coming—what he felt was the inevitability of adventurers. It was similar to the inevitability of going to university for nobles.

As an adventurer, he had to face many kinds of friction. One source of conflict was that adventuring could be dog-eat-dog machismo when nobles or nobles' associates were involved. So he had to let himself get humiliated if he wanted to live, as his body was already susceptible to illness and age-related physical debility. He had to learn how to humble himself before younger men who had too much fun doing whatever they wanted. He was fine with being humiliated, and he knew how to stay down. He knew that the only thing he could do was be patient and focus on his goals. He knew what it was like to stare outside at night and look outside, only to see tall buildings blocking his sight of the sky. He knew what it felt like to wake up in the morning and hear the sounds of voices he feared and go into fight-or-flight mode every gosh dang time. He was tired of pretending to be special. Emotionally, he was coping by tossing his frustration into walking and hearing the rain. But he could only do so much. This was his struggle after dealing with childhood trauma.

But he was going to be free one day. So, he would do his best today and keep going. He had lost hope for a better world for himself. He would only keep going, but he would not win. He would not feel validation. He would not get a hug in the night. He would not see the sky and pretend not to despise the way it laughed and mocked him. He remembered a time where he met good people. He remembered the good memories he had growing up as a kind, humble boy. But that was gone now. The boy was ruined and tossed like a doll. But he was still him. He was still that boy.

He still cared when he saw a child's face. He knew that this child did not deserve this pain. He knew that that child deserved so much more. He would do everything to make those children happy again. He would save himself in the process and be the person he was looking for in those dark days.

He would save himself.

His siblings were gone now, and he felt guilt over standing still and not running to intervene and help them.

He could only break, keeping going. His pain and his perseverance was synonymous.

To everyone else, he was just a random adventurer, one of a group, one of a thousand, one of a million, one that the best heroes and villains ignore.

He was afraid of success. He was afraid of becoming just like them. He was afraid that he would hurt something in the process. He deserved to suffer, because it was the only way he could stay humble. If he succeeded, he would destroy everything and everyone in the process. And maybe, he would be convinced that he was right. He was merely a human. If God gave him power, he would kill the world. He was just a human.

Yet, he was nothing. All his pride and ego were gone.

All he had was this motivation that never burned out. It was at its peak all the time.

He would destroy the suffering of this earth.

He remembered his siblings. One, he remembered his small younger sibling crying with both hands rubbing both eyes. Two, he remembered the small crying voice of his youngest sibling being abused right in front of him, but he was too terrified to do anything. The perpetrator was someone he trusted.

He trusted them. He gave the heart and hope that he heard about. He believed in the integrity that he heard about. Yet, they were callous and cold-hearted. They were hypocrites.

If he was evil, then, it was best that someone killed him.

He had to do something, even if he deserved to die.

He heard his brothers' voices. He heard the voices of the hundreds of other people who had been kind to him and had yet to betray him.

Tears dripped down his cheeks like a tooth from the first set. His walk was faltering in rhythm, and his body periodically shifted uncomfortably. His head rotated and twisted expressively in wavy motions. His face twitched, as he battled the pain.

It was during this anguish.

He would become everything.

He felt that he didn't address enough of his emotions, but this would do for now, even if this made him feel empty and vulnerable.

Since he was a good person, it was only right that he got empowerment.

In the physical world, several hooded figures emerged behind him and handed him a lot of swords, daggers, wands, bags of gold, dangerous potions, other equipment, and magical artifacts. Moreover, they began to cast a transformative spell on him.

He became physically healthy, and his body returned to 35 years old.

All his complications turned into dust.

He grabbed one of the swords and slashed it around, staring at the hooded figures. "I'm just a boy," he said.

When he said he was part of a community when he was a younger, he meant that he was a very obedient youth who was used as a prime example of what to follow.

So, any chance of becoming part of something excited him, as with empowerment came the opportunity to help others in the process.

To give some context for the sudden intrusion of the hooded figures, the war between adventurers and monsters was a part of the stable system of the country. This was similar to how wars could span for one hundred years without each side getting completely destroyed in only a few weeks. In conclusion, entities and organizations that had the power to influence individuals like Charles were active.

More relevantly, people like the hooded figures randomly giving money to random people like Charles Finch was part of a stable system. Moreover, these weird actions were the release of accumulated stress, similar to earthquakes. Finally, they might seem rare, but they were inevitable.

The hooded figures explaned to him what he needed to do, leading the way to a dungeon that had a breathing core.

He was about to interact with the core and see what the hell was going on.

To clarify, the hooded figures were followers of the aforementioned noble John Roger, and John wanted a random passerby, Charles Finch, to live out his fantasy of becoming an adventurer: vested interest. In conclusion, the items Charles received were John's. By the way, John's reasons were much more complex than this.

In the end, the character, Charles, would become the great hand of the user, John.

Instead of speeding up his pace to catch up, Charles stopped, as the hooded figures stared at him. Rather than responding angrily, the figures waited as if expecting him to show some hesitation.

Being an empathetic person, Charles voiced out his thoughts for both himself and the figures: "Why am I doing this? Have I really thought about this? Is this really the right thing to do?" For him, voicing out his thoughts was the same was close to thinking them, since he had strong integrity and honesty. Similarly, when he was younger, he even believed that people knew his thoughts at one point due to him having a high opinion of others.

Instead of answering him, the figures watched him, learning from his expressions. A strong rational understanding of people characterized them, but their little experience in living in tight-knit social communities that emphasized collaboration and cohesion rather than competition and hierarchical strictness was part of their arsenal of flaws. In the end, while Charles provided a breath of relief, the figures provided him with a sense of belonging.

Since Charles was taking up their time, the figures tried to use this time to write down notes regarding his humanity, but their notes were vague and cryptic. And they had poor pattern recognition skills and thereby weak memory formation in the social territory. But they were familiar with each other, so they used their perception of people through their interactions with each other. Ultimately, this formed a biased, insufficient collection of details in their notes. But they were sure that this was sufficient enough.

As soon as Charles made up his mind about his current situation, he asked them who they were. Moreover, he added that they could ignore his request if the answers were confidential.

From the figures' side, an eye at each other was all they needed, as identifying each others' understanding of the situation was brief. Furthermore, handing the man in front of them a paper with all their hands supporting it was their gesture of respect, especially within the social etiquette that cupped the city.

Even if the man in front of them traced his roots to a different linguistic regional variation, accent, or both, he would surely recognize the gesture stemming from the bourgeoisie and, by extension, the city itself.

But Charles paid little sophisticated attention to anything. So he just nodded and went on his way. This effectively wrapped up the interaction without him needing to stay in prolonged silence, overshare, or delve into intellectual tangents as nobles tended to do at events.

Though, the figures stopped him before Charles showed further disrespect. "Please tell me your full name before acting familiar with us," one of them said.

Even if Charles thought their reaction was predictable and avoidable, he was scared, since they sounded adamant about a respectful association between him and them. He nodded before saying, "I am Charles Finch."

The figures looked satisfied. "Okay, Charles Finch, my name is Elizabeth. Her name is Mary, and her name is Sarah. Since we regularly attend dangers as guards, we'll encircle you as we lead the way, so please follow in between us instead of going in front of us, okay?"

A yes leapt out of Charles' mouth.

While he waited, Elizabath high-stepped carefully over densely vegetated, rocky terrain past him.

Secondly, Mary watched him, holding onto the handles of her two sheathed blades.

Third, Sarah was looking around patiently. Since she was bored, she began discussing with Mary and Elizabeth politely concerning information further explaining the background behind the adventurers who had attacked civilians.

Meanwhile, the news worried Charles. Thinking that he was intimidated by the three women, Mary recited a memorized transcription to Charles: "I'm just a girl, okay? Don't be scared. Just chillax. We can have some fun, okay?"

Charles stopped with disbelief.

Stopping one step after him, Elizabeth glanced at him and then between Mary and Sarah, thinking that Charles' ambiguous actions were might become troublesome in a life-or-death situation. "Please tell me why you're stopping," she said.

Charles said, "I was just surprised... when I heard the news about the attack."

Elizabeth said okay and moved on, Mary and Sarah catching up in a jiffy.

Since they were at an important crossroad of multiple trails and paths, they sighted an outpost in the distance. Crossroads like this were essential as a communication hub like how an elbow connected the forearm and the upper arm. But in the case of these crossroads, the elbow would be separated into a loose group of sub-elbows. This meant more flexibility but also less centralization. This was like having a lot of malleable clay to play around with, but they couldn't stick together into one giant mass because the weight would break them apart. In conclusion, crossroads were not meant to be a giant centralized settlement or camp, so sticking them together them would require lots of resources to maintain. And it wouldn't be sustainable for their intended purpose.

With the flexible movement established, they served as a checker that could respond to new demands and redirect movement along other more efficient routes. This was similar to how the adrenal glands managed hormones like adrenaline and cortisol in response to stress, danger, and everyday exercise. If a checker like this was absent, people would continue to flow repetitively, redundantly, dangerously, and slowly indefinitely like a bunch of rats after a hole into their hideout was made. From another angle, if they knew their directions and where to go, the checking still made sure that the people were safe and not enemy soldiers casually walking in and killing everyone. Furthermore, many stories of people disguising as citizens just walking between members of a group and assassinating the leader circulated. To explain, these leaders were complacent for forgoing bureacratic processes to make sure things made sense objectively. Finally, crossroads were part of a necessary set of processes similar to glands of the human body that ensured homeostatis instead of imbalance or dysregulation. If one opposed the concept of bureaucracy rather than individual bureaucrats, the type of government, or the current administration or head of state, their natural body was a bureaucracy of checks and balances.

Meanwhile, Shadrach, Billy, and Notch were together again. It didn't feel like they had been apart. Several days without seeing a close friend was normal from time to time, but it was rare for them.

Growing up, each of them went everywhere and knew the complexities of the city with the various buildings and great variety of spots. The whole city was place of accessibility and ease, and they got to know a few hundred people here. They remembered how the city changed overtime. Sadly, they threw away items that could have served as reminders of those times. Fortuantely, they were still young and still had time to keep experiencing and learning before they would regret. Though, the three only got to know each other through Maverick 19 days ago. Yet, 19 days was more than enough to become the greatest of friends. It was like 3 straight weeks in a camp together full of hundreds of other groups and communities.

Since their early childhood until now, they moved on from many games, experiences, friendships, and spots, each of which took their time for about an hour at least and 6 years at most. Many of these activities happened simultaneously, but one by one, they would slowly detach and go away.

They struggled with malnutrition and lack of formal education, both of which caused cognitive impairment to varying degrees depending on the severity and the timing of exposure. Despite this, it was their unrestricted play, travel, the one-on-one instruction they received from others and each other, and social development that made them the people they were today.

In conclusion, they had to wage a war against the earthly crawl for destruction. They could do this by tearing open their mental chests full of knowledge and experience and packaging it into a useable tool.

With the fate of the boys in a relatively stable state of progression, Charles Finch deserved a conclusion to his journey.

Chapter 18 - The Journey's Harrowing Toll
Elsewhere, in the forest, after being told off and inspected by a group of soldiers, Charles, Mary, Sarah, and Elizabeth went to another route.

Despite their stiff and regulated social skills, the three women each had a sense of self-esteem.

Elizabeth was made of brick and stone, bone and tar, red and blue, cold ice and fiery furnace hot coals, night and day, sun and shine, and morning and dim lights hanging by like sun at midday, deathly and threading slower and slower.

She was free.

Sarah tasted banana, using magic to remove the seeds. She was very precise yet casual with her movements, calmly eating the banana and throwing the seeds away.

Mary kept repeating three actions. One, she clasped the rubbery skin of her forearm with two fingers. Two, she stared at the sky. Three, she sauntered with her free arm swinging softly.

The presence of Charles as a stranger made Elizabeth restrain her mind from wandering for presence of identity, Sarah more casual in demeanor, and Mary particularly expectant of danger, analyzing each action she identified.

The forest made Elizabeth periodically confident in herself, Sarah rub her head from time to time in case of dirt, Mary twist her head inwardly and focus on her peripheral view, and Charles somewhat bored but less tense.

Charles and the three women felt settled, having their egos down. If life decided to throw another rock at them, they were too complete ever to feel so lost that they could not find themselves bouncing back. In the past, they addressed many difficult issues and answered many challenging questions for themselves by themselves. With that said, they didn't know everything, but they all had achieved self-fulfillment.

The scary thing about self-fulfillment was that they could do anything and be anything they had to. This was in order to abide by their deeply held beliefs and aspirations. Simultaneously, they trusted role models to guide them even when independent. In the end, they had endless motivation.

In particular, Charles and the three women would become the epitome of grace and beauty.

They didn't need revenge, because they would just do what they had to in order to maintain stability within themselves.

But within them lay repressed memories that would give them the opportunity to do evil things.

This was on the condition that these memories were made vulnerable and open with unresolved or suppressed grief and coupled with intense emotions.

For instance, a statement was embedded within one of these memories: "I miss you Alex, I really do. I wish you could be here right now..."

Now that Charles had more things to do besides just walking in a forest and awkwardly waiting for the journey to finish, he said, "Dang, goblins must be so near us right now. I imagine that they will come out any second now."

"No, no, they're far away."

"Honestly, magic must be so easy to learn. I saw someone do fire magic without trying. My niece even learned it. It must be so easy nowadays."

"No, it takes a while. Here, try this: 'LALALLLL'"

"What's that?"

"A spell."

"LOLALLLL"

"Almost correct."

"LALALOLL"

"No.

"LALALLLL"

"Good."

"What the hell is this?" Charles said disappointedly, his face like that of a melting clay figure.

"Magic," Elizabeth said with deeper disappointment, since he still looked confused after she went the extra mile for him. "Have you any idea of anything?"

"I know it. I just don't know when was the last time I did anything with it. I used to be so involved with people doing all that kind of stuff."

He continued in a distant voice: "But now, it feels like a past life."

Elizabeth shrugged with confusion. "Okay, then. What do we do with that?"

He shrugged, mirroring her.

She wanted to ask rhetorically what they were here for then, but she deemed herself too polite to do that.

In any case, she went the extra mile and fetched the other girls' attention before they started having long, distracted discussions about whatever. They were doing substandard work here, and she was not happy about it. It was her duty to follow in the footsteps of her predecessors, but in reality, she was just a girl. She could pretend all she wanted, but she was aware that no matter what happened, she would be just that little rat sitting down in the grass pondering about the universe. Now, she was actually doing something, but she had to do it right. It was not easy, but she had to keep going. If only she could get closer to the fight where it was much more glorious, then she would be happy. If she wore those uniforms like the rest of the men, she would feel accepted and part of the great advancement of society into the new age. But she needed results.

She extended her arm in an immediate, tense manner.

As soon as they reached their destination, a dungeon with a dungeon core, she felt a sudden chill creeping over her, shivering involuntarily. She failed to answer basic questions in her head, as a feverish head spread through her body. Fatigue set in, and weakness gripped her muscles. A sharp pain emerged at the back of her neck. Instinctively, she touched the tender, swollen area. Panic set in as she realized she could die. Sweat formed on her forehead, and the fatigue settled deep in her bones. Within moments, Elizabeth found herself on the ground.

The fight with monsters was a major factor in pandemics throughout history, so what Elizabeth experienced was a plague.

Mary grabbed Charles who was accompanying Elizabeth closely and pulled him aside, while Sarah immediately exited the range of Elizabeth's potential sneezing and coughing.

Potions fell, and healing incantations were enough to calm them down.

But Elizabeth's condition needed more than just wound healing magic. Magic-resistant bacteria was an issue.

She would die several days later.

The best way to fight gloriously was in a decisive war, but in a war of attrition, it was worse, considering that diseases spread better. She was getting no glory when she died here.

Charles stared at a human being, Elizabeth, wondering what the point of his life as another human being. If she never reached her dreams, how could he pretend to understand?

So he sat down, not a single tear dripping. He was not going to pity her. She didn't deserve that kind of mistreatment. She wanted glory, so she would have it. Instead, he would carry her dreams forward.

Despite the fact that she was still alive, she was already dead.

But Charles was not inhuman nor callous. When he saw a human being, he saw a galaxy full of stars, particles unimaginable in complexity, chemical reactions, and human intelligence sequencing thousands of years' worth of knowledge. He could not bear but feel the weight of a life.

Because he saw a human being, his grief was inevitable.

In Charles' world, many thought they were going to be heroes, listening to the feeling of elucidation that propaganda that glorified oppression and the avoidance of issues altogether gave. But they just wanted to make sense of things with all the unpredictability, helplessness, and humiliation. It was too hard to be optimistic while accepting confusion.

Sooner or later, a person would have to stare upon the inevitable and say okay, and Charles knew that. But he felt scared still. He was not god. He was just a guy.

In the end, he had to do something, so instead of believing destiny, he said he was not special and he could die anytime. So frick everything. He grabbed Elizabeth and repeated that she would get help. Cough and sneezes fell onto Charles, as Mary and Sarah alarmingly shouted at him to wait.

Charles ran, tears streaming down his face. If he needed power, it was now. He begged for power. He begged to save one person at least for once in his life. He had to do something.

He wanted to be god right now, so he could help this person.

But Elizabeth didn't deserve to be pitied like this. She was a person like he was.

But he had to do something. He was sorry for intruding in her death, because, just maybe, she would be fine with dying. Yet, he couldn't help himself.

He would not watch a person suffer. He would not sit down and pretend. He would not stand still.

This time, he had to do something. He had to try. He would not watch his siblings suffer.

Elizabeth represented the siblings he failed to save in his childhood. These siblings represented himself when he trusted and hoped. But no one saved him.

He would have to be the person his child self was looking for.

When he reached a familiar tower, he begged for help.

The tower belonged to his father who subjected him to harmful treatment when he was growing up. He would empower Elizabeth once again with his expertise in healing magic.

It was his father that helped him refine his empathy through how rageful he got, serving as a helpful contrast between different kinds of people, but he was a person, not a benefactor nor a victim. He couldn't accept being a victim, and his father taught him that.

When Elizabeth found herself healthy again, the father began asking about Charles' health, work, and if he was doing well. It sounded casual, but Charles' experience with him allowed him to infer the true meanings behind his words. It was targeted passive aggression that would mean nothing to anyone else, but with their long history, it would make him have panic attacks. But he was better now.

Now, at least, he was only shaking slightly with his left hand, which he hid behind his other arm when he crossed his arms.

Charles thanked his father and allowed him to blabber, listening with a stoic expression.

When he was finished and Charles and the women were leaving, his father called out, telling him to do good.

"Do good," was the strongest trigger to Charles. If it was anyone else, it meant a polite, kind gesture. Though, to him, it was like experiencing everything all over again.

When his father was out of sight, he stared into the distance, his eyes becoming moist. This was a small reaction for his acute pain, and this was only the latest among thousands of past instances.

He was nothing. His father helped teach him that.

But he mattered, because the kind people who influenced him did. They taught him that.

It didn't matter. He had to keep going, as he always did.

He couldn't stop himself.

In the meantime, Mary and Sarah were not only crying. They were actually respecting the sounds of the wilderness while maintaining their composure. They exuded an aura of sagely and experienced souls.

Earlier, they thanked Charles, but he didn't register what they said until 10 minutes into their walk back to the dungeon. At this time, he glanced at the women one by one, feeling a newfound understanding of them.

He remembered one of the times he almost died and felt thankful for Elizabeth's healing. Though, he assessed his morals and actions, feeling some doubt. If he was a symbol of righteousness, he might know what was the best thing to do at any moment, but he was just a guy, making imperfect decisions. Maybe, one decision he made would lead to disastrous consequences. But he was just doing his best. If he thought he knew everything, he would not be here today.

But despite the resilience and kindness Charles expressed, there were no rules, no time tables, and no plan. Tomorrow, he could do something unspeakable.

Once they reached the dungeon, the rules that applied in the dungeon Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair's boys entrered only applied to itself and not to this new dungeon.

Meanwhile, in this dungeon, which was used as part of a massive road network, a thousand goblins were amassing, hundreds of them carrying various limited supplies. Time was running, and they had to reach their destination, a virgin expanse where they could established camp.

Rather than being part of conflict-driven political dynamics, goblins were a diverse people. Moreover, a large portion of goblins, including the aforementioned thousand goblins, coveted magic for decentralized development, leveraging the unique strengths and resources of various regions. To sum, they eschewed conflict and preferred the paradise that their destination presented.

In the end, these goblins were merely one of many groups around the world entertaining adventure and travel.

The problem was that there were too many.

So lines had to be drawn, and people had to argue over which belonged to whom. It was a good thing that the world had so much space, and monsters were a constant threat to help section the ebbs and flows of the world. At times, even the term "monster" was a subject of debate alongside many other terms in science and among scholars and philosophers.

If someone wanted to become everything, they might have to stare at the people and know their enemy and then themselves. In line with this ambitious tone, a big ego could work in some cases, but sustaining positive relationships and collaboration might become challenging if the ego was excessive and led to a lack of consideration toward others.

At the moment, a group of monsters were in the state of traveling nearby: a monster in the form of a chest on four spider-like legs, and two humanoid demons.

They were in the middle of a conversation, using playful slang like "doglist!", "natanya!", and "shinies!".

The goblins knew that they had to go in the day where monsters burned in the sunlight, because the night would spawn monsters.

But the aforementioned group of monsters were walking in the day, having learned passive skills to prevent them from burning.

Nearby, one of the monsters who survived throughout the morning since last night, a skeleton aimed at these monsters from under a shade.

The spider-like chest threw out an emerging tentacle, stabbing the skeleton through the head, as the two demons discussed briefly.

Several goblins got up on a tree and aimed at the chest, but the fireballs fell from the sky toward this tree, causing the goblins to retreat.

These fireballs came from one of the humanoid demons.

Seeing the other demon running up with fists raised, the goblins regrouped with the rest of the thousand.

But this demon chased them aggressively, so the goblins shot at her with bows and arrows, some throwing javelins that struck her in the head. Instead of wasting their projectiles on one demon, they threw several volleys, checking for life each time. On the third volley, the demon fell to the ground, dead.

The demon fell to the ground, and her back lay against the earth.

The remaining demon and spider-like chest retreated quietly.

Chapter 19 - Entwined Fates in the Dungeon: Goldberg's Resolve
Back in the city, a group of humans sighted these monsters and made greetings with the goblins. Rather than adventurers, they were protégés who relied on the patronage of nobles, having unique job labels that earned their commitment. Their jobs included a researcher-detective, a skillful pike-maker, a missionary-chaplain, and a well-equipped swordsman-crossbowman, among others. With magic and nobles' support, trailblazers like these could bear fruit. This was similar to noble-backed writers and artists in the cultural and intellectual realms.

Though, it was strange that they were here, but it was strange that goblins were traveling at all. They were going to involve themselvse in a plethora of risks and minimal short-term rewards, banking everything on long-term development. This was the same for the group of protégés, who were making their way to the city to check out what was going on there before night came. They heard about the large gathering of different adventurers there after the goblin attack. They were a little late to the party, but they had their own timetables.

So now that they were here, they were going to touch hands with the soldiers of several outposts, giving them news of the attack at a harbor. This was doing a favor for the soldiers letting them come by at all. Often times, the city was pretty strict with the inflow of travelers. So it was nice to see a human being so helpful and accommodating despite the grueling work and staying on their toes, attending the monsters that spawned every night.

Meanwhile, the only force curbing, alleviating, and containing the monsters was the adventurers. Nonetheless, with the city showing interest in budget adjustments in the adventurer industry, the avenues of expanding rapidly, investing in research and development, and exploring new markets could shift off the table. This meant that the aggressive growth of safety through all these avenues might lose its fervor.

Any change introduced a relatively short span of instability, but the thinking was that the rewards were permanent. So, even nobles who might benefit off the status quo were exhausted of monotony. This was why opportunities like getting a patronage existed, because if society stayed stagnant, it would end up worse in the long run. If one wasn't growing, one was losing. So adventurers were just one of those things that lawmakers and the king had several interests: decreasing their influence from talks, including representatives from different industries like mining, and consulting with adventurers, businesses, and stakeholders to ensure a well-managed transition, among others.

Instead, the government was hoping to implement new strategies and labels moving forward in order to transition away from adventurers' problematic history and into a fresh start. They wanted one they could manage without dealing with misunderstandings due to the historical memory regarding adventurers. Indeed, censorship and propaganda went a long way into creating and maintaining an iconic image of the adventurers as strong and charismatic leaders. Nevertheless, political instability through interconnected elements such as the goblin attacks, fatal incidents, and the politically motivated killing of civilians by adventurers impinged upon this image. Moreover, the government was starting to feel an irk toward how powerful the adventurer industry and biting heads, or industry leaders, had become. To conclude, adventurers were expensive to maintain with all the tax incentives, similar to stream of funding toward mobilized troops during geopolitical tension.

It was not a simple "government does everything like a hive mind" thing, since magic made it so that various roles could bridge functional gaps and enable coordination between much more people, making it so that the balance of power was not shared between a very small portion of society.

So internally, the government was changing and dynamic. But so was the adventurers, goblins, humans, nobles' followers, protégés, and their relationships with each other.

In the end, playing a game of chess was easy, so the players of the world played, forgoing the interests of different talking heads of society. But a game was merely a simulation of more complex mechanics that the world already provided. It was never-ending, ever-inviting fertile ground for research.

The roof of knowledge had to get higher, because it was getting cramped with all the bodies.

The burden of ancient and recent history weighed on normal people like Charles Finch. But the world was this giant, dark forest into the everlasting. The sagely might venture forth into it, the immortals might find out everything about it, and, even then, it would still be full of factors absent from their minds.

Meanwhile, Charles and Sarah laughed at a joke Mary made, watching Elizabeth making a funny walk. They didn't know everything, but they were happy now. They were living here and now, and if something was hard, they would keep going. It was not easy, but that was their souls' desire. If they wanted to lose everything, they could. But they would keep going. It was just that simple.

In the meantime, in a dungeon, an adventurer, Goldberg, lay against the earth, slightly trembling, exhausted to the point that he couldn't move much. A fire burned inside him. "No, it's just not right," he said with effort. "We cannot just let them die. We must do something about it." Incarceration helped him reflect, and now, instead of thinking only about becoming himself in a society, he wanted to escape and help fellow adventurers again. The comfort that fellow adventurers gave him only gained precedence in his mind now when he lacked it. He wanted to help them live better lives, and he hoped it extended toward society. Society was the only reason he wasn't imprisoned in a dungeon like he was now. It empowered him and made him feel like a human being. Now, he felt like nothing.

"It's just not right."

Half a distance away, one of two goblins, Kahul, on whom Goldberg relied to live, eyed him with newfound clarity, sitting with his side to Goldberg. "So that's your problem." They were outside at the dungeon entrance behind bars that blocked monsters and Goldberg from passing.

"What would someone do to get on your side?" Goldberg said.

"You're asking the wrong question," Kahul said, emphasizing "You're".

"Okay. What would someone do to be your friend?" Goldberg glanced at the other goblin next to the one he was talking to.

"Gemstone for storing information." Kahul wanted this, among others.

Goldberg felt his ambition, along with nervousness, the fear of death, jittery excitement, and obsession, flare up again. He suddenly remembered who he was now that he saw an opportunity. He was not going to pretend and be enslaved by the powers. He would not allow his oppressors to rope him into submission. He was not their pet.

He would smirk in the face of the powers, guffawing suddenly.

With a careful back-and-forth with some tense moments, he would convince Kahul that he would help him and the goblins, allowing him to leave as part of a goblin regiment comprising of Kahul and the goblin next to him, among hundreds of others.

They were more than adventurers: the goblin government would support them moving forward.

It was night, hours away from day 20, so the back-and-forth would end on day 26.

But now, Goldberg would be situated in the dungeon, where many monsters entered after spawning in the nighttime.

Socially, monsters were not just a mass of insects, but even insects had a complex social environment and nutritional strategy. Significantly, generalizing monsters would continue to take lives. Still, adventurers generalized with trolls, thinking that these monsters were merely just attacking entities. Ultimately, the real fight was in understanding how they behaved in their everyday beyond just observing their minimally spent wartime states.

But the glory of war often blinded people from recognizing the engineers, systems, and preparations behind the magic of society. Instead, people relied on talking heads to determine the complexities for them, often getting entangled in censorship and propaganda. It was a game of pretend.

Society needed pretending in order for structure to form—collectively agreed-upon fictions that contributed to social cohesion.

Yet, it was the scholars and researchers to delve deeper into what defined the norm and whether certain common terms were sufficient or needed further context and explanation. Some terms from unsubstantiated theories had to be discarded. New terms emerged to describe things that didn't have words or required too many words to identify.

So, if anything, Goldberg would be facing both the known and unknown.

He could lose his life any day now. No one could tell.

This was why he was nervous, as everyone would be. Even those who had heavily invested their entire ego on societal structures that were on the verge of becoming obsolete would, one day, have to face dread or anxiety. The future was now in the shaking and the pressing on.

But oh was he so sure that he was going to have to become everything. He was not letting anyone decide for him what he was or who he was.

He was him. He would not stop now or ever.

If anyone dared treat him as if he was nothing or something to be dismissed, he would make it clear through just a simple glance that he was everything there was.

No one would decide that for him. No one.

If anyone was going to rally around someone, it would be him, because he would show the world what a human being meant. It was worth, it mattered, and it was entirely individual.

He would crush this society and everything it stood for if it dared tell me a word, the kind that pretended that they grasped his true nature. They were mocking him if that was the case. He would not allow that. Not a single chance.

He would mock and laugh at them. He would do it.

That was who he was, and he could pretend all he wanted. But the truth was that if anyone mattered, he would prove it.

But he was also a committed father and husband, born and raised in a tight-knit society full of social enforcements, silence treatments, and manipulative gossiping. If people reported that he was not a human being and called him a monster or something horrible, he would laugh at them. Those who advocated for peace and acceptance dared treat him, who was a human being like them, as something that isn't human, normal, or acceptable. They didn't recognize how evil humans like them could really be. Every time he heard them confidently state that they deserved a paradise in a self-righteous manner, he found this amusing and pointed out the hilarity in their statements.

Even with all this, he made lots of friends by focusing on the positives rather than the negatives of others. This was because he was skilled at postponing his furious hatred of disabling the individual. He and his siblings grew up in an environment that emphasized excellence, and their parents rewarded them accordingly. However, singling out and isolation accompanied this, making them individuals in the most disabling way possible. So he was done with this attitude. Because of the great contrast in his experience with the disabling of people as individuals, he wanted to empower the individual. In the end, he remembered how his parents often emphasized him as an epitome of excellence to his siblings.

This memory made him feel enraged because of the humiliation he underwent through empathizing with his siblings' helplessness in this dynamic, even if he was the one labeled the winner.

He would become everything, taking on the mantle of winner in order to tell the world that they mattered as human beings individually.

It was because of his siblings that he learned to be kind and sociable, but the rage and ambition remained, intertwined with his empathy. He would brutally murder callousness and inhumanity to show the world that a human being, their life, memories, experiences, influences, knowledge, and skills, mattered. It was only logical.

But these were his ideals. His real self was ever-short of them, so with this understanding, his face twitched with frustration.

Returning to the moment, Goldberg carefully continued deeper into the dungeon, knowing that he had limits. If he went into a chamber full of monsters, he could die. He didn't need to go too deep into the dungeon, but if he stayed near the entrance for too long, that would be fatal. As for the reason of this, if the monsters learned he was there, they might mobilize and attack him strategically.

But what he didn't expect was the presence of six other human prisoners. He was not familiar with goblins' social environment, so he didn't know what they did with prisons. He didn't even consider his imprisonment as he would if he was in a prison by humans. He had little opinion of them, because he only saw them as annoying monsters in the wild. So he didn't think that other people would be in the dungeon. Now that he saw this, he was not sure what to feel about goblins, leaving him hesitant regarding the human prisoners who were here before he was. If he wanted to win in a fight, he had to know what he was fighting. Dealing with humans was not something he ever did in his life. He was protected by the laws of human society. Here, he might not be safe at all. He might even die at the hands of humans whom he protected for years. He could only try to initiate a conversation as he would normally.

His decision-making happened within a span of five seconds, reflecting his expertise in dealing with fast-paced, life-threatening situations.

Since he and the other prisoners identified each other's presence, Goldberg called out before they could to show dominance at least in speed: "Hi!" This could be interpreted in various ways, some of which could be rewarding. Though, he could have chosen to be silent as an alternative.

Chapter 20 - The Dynamics of Captivity
"Who are you!" said one of the prisoners, Bean, gesturing to the other prisoners to focus on a game.

"Goldberg, an adventurer!" Goldberg said as the prisoners ran around, making loud footsteps and exclaiming.

"Why are you here for!" said Bean word-by-word because he was dashing.

"I was patrolling down a path near the bridge before the goblins cast a spell on me that made me lose my senses!" said Goldberg, slowing down at certain parts when he felt that their footsteps and exclaimations would outshout him.

"How did that happen, you wager!" said Bean as he picked up several meaningful glances from the other prisoners.

"I've no clue!" Goldberg pretended to look down, decreasing his field of view, but he was actually fishing for predatory instincts from them. "I'm just here now."

"Okay then!" Bean studied Goldberg's athletic and wide-shouldered physical build. "Guys, let's do another round!" He and the other prisoners were playing a game called "pantintero," which was played on a rectangular grid drawn on the ground. Since they were 6 players, they could play with a 3-vs.-3 matchup.

Goldberg was confused, but he took the route he always did with people: "Can I join you guys!"

In the end, his options reflected his personality here rather than understanding. As for why this was the case, in this situation, the long-term prisoners could be anyone and prefer an approach outside of his expectations and his past knowledge. People were too random to be construed consistently without tailoring to each individual.

Each of Bean's fellow prisoners were named Catherine, Samuel, Joseph, Benjamin, and William.

Considering that five of them were men and only one of them was a woman, the dynamics likely would have been horrible if it was not for the fact that Catherine was still a young girl. This made the men very protective and affectionate for her needs as that of a child. In brief, she brought out the fatherly side of them.

Goldberg was confused about this dynamic, but he didn't let it show.

Catherine's presence there meant that the goblins consciously imprisoned her with the men. The goblins were strangely considerate by imprisoning her rather than killing or enslaving her. But it was still weird that they put her with the men. The fact that the men had a soft spot for children was fortunate.

Goldberg was lucky that the dynamics among the prisoners were peaceful due to a central peacekeeping force, Catherine. In the end, Catherine, similar to pets in a prison, passively settled the tensions of the group and brought out the childishness from them in the form of children's games like pantintero.

At the moment, Goldberg was allowed to participate in this game.

Later, Goldberg wanted to break the tension bubbling up and warning of an explosion. So he made a half-joke: "Ha, if we just did this, maybe I could stay here forever."

The prisoners glanced at Goldberg then at Catherine. "No, she must return to her family," said Samuel.

"She deserves a proper life," said Joseph.

"We have resolved to provide her that," said Benjamin.

William looked determined in his bearing, while Bean smirked. These implied their agreement with the rest.

After a short pause, Goldberg nodded suddenly with pleasant surprise.

In the front of his mind, he thought this situation was fricked up, and he yearned to get back to normal society. He needed proper, organized, and simple adventurer quests, not this horrible dungeon.

He felt that the prisoners would kill him at any moment, or anything could happen since he and the prisoners were under the control of goblins, whom he knew little about outside of battle.

This situation was hell.

He wanted to keep asking questions. So he asked them his first: "How did you all end up in this dungeon?"

"We were heading south to Jackman City," said Bean, removing himself from a round of pantintero, "but we came to a stop after seeing a group of people blocking and controlling a road. We got to pass after a short discussion about news, but goblins came and took us by surprise, dragging us to the caves. And now, after five months, we're waiting for a response from people."

"Do the goblins often imprison humans here, or is this a unique situation?"

"We don't know," said Samuel, exiting the pantintero round.

"What do you know about the goblins and their motives for keeping us here?" said Goldberg.

"We have no idea," said Bean, leaving the game.

"Have you encountered other adventurers in this dungeon before?"

"We saw one adventurer, but he was deranged. So we had to let him know in a possibly... lethal way."

Goldberg shifted gears from his prepared questions: "Might I ask who's this adventurer?"

The other prisoners still playing pantintero cocked their heads and began to stare at Goldberg tensely.

"Hey," Benjamin told Goldberg, gesturing to the other prisoners. "I just want to say that we also don't know about that. Can we talk about this some other time?"

Feeling unfulfilled, he had more than 20 questions remaining, but Goldberg resigned and nodded with thanks, feeling rewarded anyway for his efforts and grateful for the prisoners' patience. To Goldberg, these questions were like a chance to find out the history behind a gigantic, black, cylindrical tower that had been in the middle of the wilderness for over 2,200 years.

In conclusion, he was encumbered by both his damp padded gambeson and this sudden prison.

Even after everything, he would pull the seams of this earth and hurl them down to the ground. Every moment was tied to this goal of his. He was no martyr, no god, no devil. But he was a human being, and his might extended across all the shadows of the earth. He would not be tied, repelled, or treated like a lost cause. He would become the epitome of all things.

The next day, in the morning, a breeze from a lake touched goblins' and humans' shaded hangout spots and their thatched stilt houses.

Meanwhile, at a market back in the city, Billy imagined several thousand giants sitting down on the buildings, wishing that he could be as tall as them because that would be interesting rather than just cool. His curiosity was starting to get more sophisticated, as a traumatic incident involving him and fellow friends forced him to mature faster.

Next to him, Nathan, Robert, Shadrach, and Notch, 7 other boys, and 2 women tried to have a discussion, but it was challenging, since they were still teenagers with little clue about the world. Their trauma only made them more desperate to connect and find coherence with each other. If they could clarify their issues to each other, maybe they would find the answers they were looking for. They were ignorant about every other event that went on while they tried to cope with their struggles. This meant that they were idle, yet they were productive because they reflected on broader questions and observations that they wouldn't have considered if the incident didn't happen. This was a fresh start for them, and they were hoping to make things right.

If they avoided involving themselves with larger issues, they would be less likely to have problems. This could be attributed to their cohesive group dynamic, as opposed to an individual standing alone. They wanted to return to daily life, but it was a struggle due to deep shift in their mindset. With willfully obtained experience and knowledge came the struggle to be content with what used to be normal.

They couldn't pretend to see things as they used to. They could only slowly accept their circumstances. This could be facilitated through their sustained interactions with each other as a group that went through the same trauma.

They decided to form an adventurer group, ignorant of the political issues besetting it and setting a cooldown delay on relations with Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair.

They were tired of being strung along. Behind this, Nathan, the former apprentice miner most against Leroy, orchestrated the group and their current meeting today. It was he who guilted the unapologetic Leroy for the aforementioned incident that left tens of children dead.

At the moment, they started to count the items in stalls with their fingers, keeping their dominant hands in front of their face, as they traveled through the market.

As soon as they went through the most congested area and satisfied their curiosity, notably with Shadrach and one of the two women taking notes, they split into smaller units. Their objective was to avoid over-attending smaller subsets of stalls and instead optimize their course through involving only as much as needed. Their exemplary organization could be attributed to their history with their Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair.

But the organization of this teenage group was in no way comparable to the struggles of adventurer groups in their pursuit of success. These groups could be receiving challenging but very rewarding quests left and right, but after their short-lived success, they returned to the life of just meager, time-wasting tasks. It was battle for reputation, so often times, adventurers presented themselves as individuals rather than as part of the adventurer industry as a hivemind. But as mentioned earlier, adventurers were changing, consolidating under larger factions and groups for better structure and more inclusiveness. But this had potential drawbacks: internal strife, red tape, loss of individuality, elitism, and political instability.

Yet, it was fair to praise the teenage group for doing well after what they went through as human beings.

Returning to their market strategy, since Billy's parents were market vendors, they could easily obtain information from his parents, but they were curious to perceive it as it appeared to them first. This way, his parents' insight would be an ameliorative layer to their untainted perceptions, especially if issues occurred during their first run-through. Ultimately, this would lead to a more comprehensive grasp of the complexities of the market.

After they finished, they received a reward in the form of notepads of information. It was small, but they would keep going. Resources were dwindling, and time was running out. Their efforts were only a small blot on this earth, but it was sufficient for now. They would not be stopped.

The world was moving so slowly, as it had only been 20 days since Billy, Shadrach, and Notch met Maverick. Yet, they and the rest of the teenage group went through several lifetimes together and learned so much, becoming so much more confident about taking risks and trying new things.

If it was not for Maverick, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, and Millie and the rest of the other former apprentice miners who had lost their lives in the incident, they would not be here.

It was natural to visit friends who passed away, so they decided that today would be a good day to visit the place where Maverick died, Northe Road.

One of the benefits of the past influx of numerous adventurers in response to a goblin attack that involved the boys was playing a minor role in the city's response of building barriers, which continued to this day. So the three boys could safely use Northe Road.

"Nakakainis naman ito," said a small boy nearby, expressing frustration at a magical gemstone.

In the distance, several families were competing over a ring. It was a civil argument, and magic determined the winner. Since these families were relatively wealthy freemen, they could expend a considerable budget toward basic magic education and empowerment through certain resources like gemstones.

The families were four, and each of them sent out 3 teenagers. These teenagers could decide the limitations of the magic, but their limitations had to be central to "fairness and equity", as the families expressed through the written principles.

Anyway, the limitations were mostly just using "honorable" methods such as giving each opponent a turn at attacking. So they had a turn-based matchup rather than a typical fight.

Meanwhile, farther in the distance, several adventurer groups were having many discussions within them, but the wind and distance provided them privacy.

"You sound like a great guy, man. I love it. Can we talk about your job? Or your things you know? I would love to see someone who's that crazy for everything, you know. Everything about this entire operation sounds like an entire waste of money. But still, it still is effective, don't you think?"

"What would they think? I want to talk to them again. Honestly, I wish they knew what I felt. I would wake up in the morning and think what the hell am I doing. It's a frequent, occuring thing, you know. This endless un-removable feeling of "I hate this all of this!" You know what I mean. This is everything, and I've lost it all. I—hehehe—I just don't know."

"It's just a crazy world that I have no clue about, and if I could, I would just finish everything and not have to deal with anything. It's funny that I even think about anything. All these thoughts in my head. It doesn't go away. I remember what it was like to be a human being, and now I just feel like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done. I think I'm done..."

"So this is how you do it. You place down the little dropper thing, and after that, you get this small explosion. That's fine. You want that. Now, as long as you do what it says, you'll be good, okay?"

The discussions were helpful in many ways. One, they fine-tuned a sense of belonging, shared experience, and structure. Two, they served as a mechanism for providing emotional, informational, and instrumental support. Three, they reinforced cultural values. Four, they played a crucial role in the socialization and symbolic alignment and construction process, because without them, words, facial expressions, tone, body language, and other non-verbal cues would lose their meaning as culture evolved, trasmitting new layers of nuance behind these expressions.

Through discussion and, by extension, their collaboration, the adventurers were becoming human beings in the contextual, cognitive, emotional, interpersonal, and physical realms.

In other words, their humanity was growing. This was analogous to the melding of various raw metals each with different atomic compositions, creating an even stronger alloy due to how these compositions combined diversely for optimal comprehensiveness.

Whether an adventurer struggled with a disability, went through trauma growing up, were uneducated and born too poor to develop fairly, lived a "normal" or happy life, had parents growing up, grew in a wealthy paradise where they could freely express themselves through virtually unlimited mediums, their perspective as a human being, which ranged from the past in memory, to the present in communication, and to the future in potential, was value in and of itself. Using magic to find a cure for diseases, to aid communication, and help spread awareness of the human being behind them would procure the overflow of this value for the finest rewards. Instead of a moral good, it essentialized a practical one. To be more specific, this mended the framework that relied on the idea that the artist should only paint what artists should paint, the writer speak of the experience of a writer, and the scholar talk only about science without considering how best to equip the individual with this knowledge. If people were given more ways to express their unique selves, communication would freely develop into more integrative and interactive structures of thought. Moreover, creative and innovate problem-solving would enlarge the range in which a society develops, rather than only relying on one industry and developing in an askew manner. This manner would be like a man without a right leg, two arms, eyes, a nose, and right foot and only relying on the bubbly sense that the left leg was intrinsic so as to omit any other distinct organs or appendages of the human body.

Basically, humanity relied on different functions or roles, the cultural heritage of various regions, and different social structures. Similarly, Big Brain constituted many functions, regions, and structures.

So since Billy, Shadrach, and Notch wanted to rule the world and had the chance to do so, they would need to know what the hell a dog was. More than what it was to them, they needed to know what it meant to everyone else. Indeed, this went the same for magic.

Rather than one-size-fits-all, Magic was, like art, a matter of expression. Everyone knew all the right ways to do it their respective ways, but it was up to the individual to decide what they wanted philsophically, emotionally, mentally, ideally, and all the different aspects of a human being, which all interacted with how a person tramitted their magic.

A brute could make magic through rage. Did that mean rage was the solution? Yes and no. If it worked for one, it could work for some, but it would not work for all, particularly since everyone interpreted and expressed rage differently.

So magic would kill a person, but it would come from another human being capable of all of that unique assortment of complexity. This was why murder was an act of complexity obliterating complexity—value obliterating value.

In sum, Billy, Shadrach, and Notch had a long journey if being interesting, to them, was ruling the world or something.

Chapter 21 - The Burden of Nobility
Meanwhile, the three boys returned where they lived.

"Wee!" said Billy as he ran around. "I am speed!" He was eighteen years old, but he let himself relax and put on a playful side from time to time. If he was perpetually serious and silent when he didn't need to be, he would be exhausted more often than not. So at his age, he merely weaponized that side of himself, making it a habit so that he could just do it on the go without thinking about it much. This was the side of himself that managed to grow up to eighteen years old, so it was empirically more effective.

Mindfully present rather than writing in a notebook, Shadrach chuckled, as Billy passed him.

Notch was just sitting on his haunches, staring at the clouds.

Rather than only having each other, they each had many friends and families.

The problem was that their families were also a big thing.

Speaking of families, meanwhile, John Roger was handling papers and looking over several names on a list of papers magically created. Since he was a noble, fetching reports on various different subjects was customary. This was distinct from reading tomes, scrolls, or books, as these reports were relevantly discussing the fluctuations of magical behavior. "Magical behavior" referred to the ways people used magic, managed it, what spells they used, with which artifacts they augmented their magic, and how they achieved their goals using magic individually, and how they expressed themselves through their magic, and how they got their magic, among others.

He learned that people were returning to a category of thought called "essentialism," which was the use of magic through enhancing menial work. Rather than using terms that faded away rapidly, experts used them because they helped elucidate the various grand benefits and consequences of magic on everyday people. In way, as a broader discipline, essentialism was a reintegration of diverse magical sub-disciplines. Shifting to one of these sub-disciplines, "ecologism," how people typically did it in culture, embraced identification and affiliation with each tree in the forest, placing an appreciative sign with an endearing name and description. However, it was more than giving each tree a place in society, as it was about what it was a part of as a whole: a focus on respecting magically the dynamics and identities of each vegetation of the enironment rather than oversimplifying them to a singular metric like lumber and pasture. In the end, behavior was shifting away from ecologism toward the broader essentalism, even if they might engage in actions aligning with ecologist thought occasionally.

Returning to overall magical behavior, since people weren't purely rational, their magical behavior could be similarly unpredictable. Moreover, everything written on magical behavior merely hailed from its properties as a social science and a school of thought rather than a strong emphasis on objectivity and empiricism such as that of hard sciences.

As a consequence of the subjectivity of magical behavior and behavior in general, the elaborate perspective of John Roger on society was shaped by his unique lens.

Speaking of unique lens, people like John Roger behaved as individuals within a larger society rather than watery masses of growing flesh that only sought the path of least resistance.

So reports allowed nobles to be aware of changes and hopefully help them make better decisions regarding regulations and such. This would prevent sudden surges of magic in a specific area, potentially leading to full-blown chaos. Two people might feel themselves empowered due to the increased attention in the magic they specialized in. Then, they might unleash their rage upon each other, impinging upon the behavior of those within the vicinity. This could lead to riots, and since people naturally felt uncomfortable with compromising, the righteousness of rage was a delicacy.

Even if powerful magic was hard to get, even basic magic was easily tied to the ego than a knife, making it much more readily acceptable as a form of communication, albeit possibly violent. Moreover, magic was often more immediate than money, making it the hardest to regulate with due process. This meant many people with hidden magic were everywhere. Furthermore, these would often involve getting away with more than just petty crime: blackmail and summary executions, among others. In conclusion, all of this tied back to the tense relationship betweeen adventurers internally and between adventurers and the government. There existed a future where vigilantes and terrorists walked around in broad daylight, thinking they were heroes, when they were merely one of a plethora of organizations who thought the same. Rather than organizations, they called themselves brothers, comrades, friends, and family. Propaganda did much to hide the true nature of their heroisms as the exploitation of the weak. An incident involving a goblin killing a group of women would "confirm" past accusations against goblins as a whole, contributing to them being the target of ethnic cleansing. The beauty of evil was that it was the only thing stopping people from due process and the process of science, which sought to refine itself over time through discarding unsubstantiated theories that promoted division and war.

Even the commonly accepted idea of goblins as disgusting and evil was a manifestation of propaganda that clawed its way into lore, legends, and historical memory, using them as scapegoats or attention-grabbers away from broader hard-to-address issues. If one could believe goblins were only disgusting, one could believe any group of individuals was similarly so. Manipulable social constructs sounded good because they sounded like truths that were and continued to be. But some things only emerged a decade ago. For people born after this, they would believe it as those around them said it, taking sometimes decades to ponder confusedly the question: "What is a dog?"

This was why John Roger was keen as every other noble was, since they were all shaped by their fathers and mothers to be privy to a profusion of knowledge that peasants and freemen would likely never see.

It was the balance of life. Nobles dealt with broader issues, while everyone else dealt with their own.

In the end, he despised his world, wishing to live among the people. If he could be an individual rather than a person concerned with everyone, he would be able to be free.

Even as a child, he was never given time to play and socialize normally, always being forced to learn complex subjects. Naturally, this left him underdeveloped in empathy and social, communication, and conflict resolution skills. As a result, he began relying on his power as a noble to avoid situations involving a healthy counterpart of these abilities. So even if he knew adventurers were problematic, having killed thousands of civilian goblins in the past, he didn't want to deal with it.

So he would become an adventurer one day he hoped. His intention was to be free.

But despite his strong grasp on society from a formal level, he was unaware of four aspects.

One, a new life as a free adventurer could lead him to learn what it meant to be an individual in a society full of other individuals and develop empathy, which was a fundamental component of understanding people.

Two, despite his heavy conceptual and abstract knowledge, he lacked the real-world experiences to understand them, only memorizing terms and seeing patterns that only mattered when they were applied to firsthand experiences that he lacked. These experiences would be part of many different aspects of the real outside world: communities full of different kinds of people and dynamics; traveling and getting to know over a thousand kindhearted people; growing up with relatively supportive parents; learning personally a set of skills; a multifaceted proficiency in fitness; and spending years reflecting, studying, and communicating past experiences and knowledge; among countless others.

Three, his formative learning environment was so controlled and isolated from everyday life that he became good at obeying and being uncreative.

Four, his desire to be free out there was more than just a whim. His brain begged him to touch grass.

He was trapped, but he was showing more of his internalized desperation. He was expending his followers' time impulsively to attend to his new proxy adventurer, Charles Finch. He had seventy of these proxies already, but they accidentally killed off three identified laborers, excluding Maverick, over the course of three months. Now, he was testing Charles Finch by having him deal with a dungeon core, which would take three weeks. Overall, he expedited his exit, or the idea of it at least, through the proxies.

From an economic standpoint, the three deaths were negative externalities, as his business passion for hiring proxy adventurers resulted in them.

In any case, he wanted to get out as quickly as possible, so he hoped that one day, he might overpower the nobles by finding a magical artifact that might empower him. Though, this magical artifact and overthrowing the government event only happened once a century ago. So, he had many other options that were similarly unlikely.

But he had to try something.

It was like he would destroy the entire world just to pet a cat for the first time like a curious, innocent child.

He never really grew up.

So he wanted to be free to experience a fulfilling life, or he could die trying.

At the moment, now that he read the report part of the papers, he immediately signed several of these papers, on which proposals, contracts, and agreements were presented.

He had to be quick, since the market, including adventurer behavior and overall financial behavior, was shifting rapidly. If he was slow to make decisions, the expected resources he signed to be bought would continue to undergo inflation due to the adventurers' increasingly high buying power in comparison to other industries like mining. Since he was a part of the government himself, he knew that it was inevitable that the nobles would soon agree on budget adjusments for the adventurers. But he had faith that the adventurers would locate a lucrative dungeon source, maybe even a portal to hell, in time.

It was like he was playing a violin skillfully, and he couldn't make a mistake. Or he might lose everything, the momentum he was building to unleash his great wish upon the earth.

He didn't chuckle; instead, he guffawed manically, knowing so much yet knowing so little. His helplessness made him so joyous. It was the anxiety that left him crawling for salvation. It was this excitement that brought him to life. He was alive, but he felt that he would only be alive if he truly made the results to get out of here.

He was so close, and he couldn't call his mother or his father. He could call one word: "Freedom."

He was sure that he was likely going to lose everything, he could die anytime, and he felt helpless his entire life to achieve the goals he believed in.

Yet, he couldn't help but laugh. It was too perfect. He was perfection. Tears dripped down his face, as a sense of weakness overcame him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He began to bawl.

His grandiosity and his grief were one and the same. He lost something he never had but he deserved—waking up in the morning and seeing the sun without thinking that he was going to lose everything.

"It's just not enough. This is not it."

"It can't be." Anger broke out from him, his face an art piece of hatred. "It just can't be!"

He would become the epitome of grace and beauty.

He would become everything.

He would kill to give life to a lamb.

A burst into aggrieved laughter twisted out of him.

He kept repeating the same emotional movements of laughter, grief, grandiosity, guilt and loss, and anger, growing more subdued as time passed.

When he was finally done, he returned to calm seriousness. "I'm just tired," he said even though he did this once a month or so. "I'm just pretending.

"I'm making it up.

"It doesn't really matter."

Now, he was back to swift work, his productive side and his emotional one compartmentalized effectively. This could be attributed to how nobles learned defensively to put on airs not just with peasants, freemen, and their followers but also with their fellows. This putting on airs made them easier to hate, but nobles could only be what the world told them they were or were supposed to be. If they failed to meet perceived expectations or standards, they felt and were treated worse off.

But it was all black and white. Nobles deserved to die if they weren't perfection.

Perfection or nothing.

Perfection or annihilation.

Perfection or complete destruction or obliteration.

What was normal to freemen was infinitely harder to nobles, and what were nobles' job was infinitely harder to freemen. If freemen wanted something from nobles, they would have to take into account that nobles lived very different lives, so their skill set would not always fit expectations of norm, notably when the world was so much more complex than what freemen thought. The more one knew, the more one realized they didn't know. Freemen felt they knew all the right ways to go about doing things if they were a noble, but if they really did become nobles, they would then learn that they didn't know anything at all.

The worse part was that knowledge was still limited, and nobles could only know so much before they reached the ceiling of accumulated knowledge. Moreover, even if nobles had so many books to understand the world and how to solve the millions of issues that make up even just one broader issue, mastering all the information and application would require more than what one noble could handle, even with all the money. In the end, most freemen thought that books were not really that useful, since they preferred practical knowledge. But books that took months to read were practical knowledge. Nobles would spent their life learning one subject and then discover that they did not know a single thing after all. All the greatest developments would happen centuries later, yet they didn't know a thing at all. They lived in a world full of unknowns, so even with all the books available, it was like living in a maze for one's entire life. They were stuck, and they could only try to understand things. Improving the systems such as the mining industry that contributed to the circulation of money was important. Money was not a solve-it-all, since it could be used cost-ineffectively. It was combined money and knowledge that led to growth. So instead of letting one freeman with little formal and informal education on plants decide what to do with society, which included what to do with trees and plants, it was better to let people educated on plants to handle societal planning in the realm of plants.

However, nobles had potential to engage in corrupt practices all the time. Bureacracy was good for checks and balances. Notwithstanding, corruption could slip between the processes. All in all, the king consolidated power and made it harder for corruption to take place, making his potential for abuse the greatest.

The king of the nation-state that comprised the city, various other cities, districts, towns, and settlements. Despite that, at this time, the term "district" could refer to a part of a city or town. All thing considered, language evolved overtime.

In spite of everything, the adventurer name John Roger wanted was "The Sickle", partly inspired by Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair's miners.

From a door nearby, a group including his followers entered the room, smiling at him.

He smiled at them. With their help, he tried his best to maintain his work and study and stay afloat on trends.

Even in the hardest times, there would always be moments worth living for.

Alongside the followers, a group of adventurers stood, their faces those of an older walker looking for hope.

The adventurers numbered 70, and they sat on the floor or squatted down in the hallway, at the door, and somewhat inside the room. Each of them

Shifting to a symbolic level, John Roger internalized his great fist, and he would use the adventurers to his ends. It was up to the adventurers to defeat this symbol of authority and become ever more grandiose than him.

At the moment, they gave each other an introductory stare. Simultaneously, the discussion of the followers danced behind the scenes.

In reality, it was nothing really. They were looking at each other in a friendly manner. The adventurers shook hands with John and vice versa. It was a nice simple moment.

The followers even thought this would be the easiest time for a collaborative process between them and John Roger with the objective of bringing the adventurers up to date.

John Roger was tired. If he only played military tactics, then maybe his life would be much more easier. It was the details, people, and nobles that troubled him. Yet, he had a dream, and he was tired of the ways people argued, backstabbed, and looked for sensational perspectives.

One of the things he hated were people without a conviction: people who cheated and lied their way through life instead of facing their fears and staring at what scared them the most. He hated people who didn't have a beating soul; instead, they constantly looked for ways to convince themselves rather than going out there and doing something honest for once, especially if it involved feelings of humiliation, helplessness, and vulnerability. Standing up for what one believed in and having a strong enough moral integrity to die for one's beliefs was an essential aspect of John Roger. He was tired of hypocrisy, which was why he wanted to achieve his goals. He remembered again his goals, his commitment, and his mindset, so he wanted to exert the power that he had instead of waiting helplessly for help. This time, he would do something about the issues he saw instead of engaging in empty rhetoric or denial.

Before his fellow nobles could oust him, he planned to withhold information from the nobles handling domestic intelligence and security. This gate was part of an international network that connected nations across regions, and he was a noble who was part of a service that handled foreign—basically international—intelligence. His objective was to bring in militants from another nation, and the gate merely made this easier. The militants would go through another way, but having his responsibility be on repairing this gate made this smoother. The militants' attack would occur after the adventurers in front of him blocked off the dungeons that supplied the city with resources.

For most of the adventurers, he was doing this for a greater purpose, but he was just tired of being stuck in the noble life. So he had to do something about it.

But this would need preparation over the course of several years. He needed to be patient regarding the timing, and he needed to keep amassing forces. It was bound to happen, and he needed loyal followers for this journey. Charles Finch was one of them.

If he did it now and failed, he was gone for good, so he had to patient and curb his pride for now. Though, the long-term strategy was likely to stay a plan, but even if it did, the preparation he spent could be adapted for different purposes or approaches for the end goal of becoming a free man.

Returning to his actions as a noble, one of the laborers whom his proxy adventurers inadvertently killed was Maverick. Since Maverick was unidentified, he didn't know. Even so, he felt that it was not good that the identified laborers, whom these proxies accidentally killed, lost their lives.

He killed Maverick.

It was not just, but he would have to carry that weight. When he smiled at his long-term followers, his face shifted from cold ceramic to warm skin.

Chapter 22 - The Weaving Threads of Fate
Charles Finch stared at the man standing behind the desk. This man looked just like anybody else that was supposed to be doing everything at the top and handling all the tasks. Though, in Charles' eyes, he saw many different leaders from communities of which he had played a part in the past. He saw a branching out of various different people under those leaders and how these leaders interacted with them via conversations and representatives. To those leaders, it was just convenient, but it was more than just convenient. This was even more pronounced in the man behind the desk, John Roger, who wielded control of many things that Charles didn't know but probably loomed over his life and that of his former friends and family and experiences. He saw the man who would bring forth changes that would tie his entire life together with a rope and make everything he experienced make sense instead of feeling confused and forgetful as an older man.

Though, he was not an older man anymore. He was an older man who had been magically transformed into a younger man. This meant a whole wave of possibilities, so he already contacted hundreds of former friends and associates, getting responses from almost all of them. But the people who talked with him beyond the small talk and asked with hints of curiosity for long-term interactions were much fewer. These people, which he called "His Roots," would be his roots into this earth and broader society, moving forward under the shadow of the great statue, John Roger.

He wanted to eat people and everything that they were—their knowledge, experiences, and beauty.

He ate chicken in the morning and in the night. Today, it would be no different with John Roger. He would stare upon the surface of his skin and lick it, expressing his deep desire for the fleshy makeup of his being. The representation of his nature and the epitome of himself were in his epidermis. The perfection that he sought was within the grace of the epidermal weaponization of hope and glory. He would starve after his mind.

He just felt thirsty and dreadful, so that was why he couldn't help but feel a great hunger that coincided with the physical consumption of a human being in order to express his great empathy and love through the communication of touching.

He loved a human being, and he would express it if all the familiar methods didn't work. Physical consumption of the person of interest would be an expression of his great love.

But he was just a little scared. If he couldn't express his love toward all the people who were kind to him throughout the years through the representation, John Roger, he would lose it.

He would save a soul by taking a bite, just one bite.

But he was capable of functioning within a society and contributing to an accepted social framework. So his urges were cut short and placed into compartments within his mind, sectioning the variety of expressions trapped within the momentary confusions and the long-term reflections which sustained his reconstructed memories.

He was not going to be normal. He was normal, an intelligent human being capable of emotional accents.

He immediately moved forward to contact His Roots, who came from a large variety of territories and settlements, many of which adventurers managed with broader collaboration with nobles, other officials, advisory committees, and boards. Most of these settlements were too many and defensible that the larger nation-state avoided annexing them.

But he was scared. He would achieve his goals productively, but in the end, he was self-aware to the point that he would be willing to take out a human being in order to enlighten others of the beauty of a human being. This self-awareness was distinct from good morals, as he was merely energizing his intent within the chamber of his own spirit, creating a weapon of devastating effect: mental instability. For clarity, his spirit was mature in the sense that it underwent extreme stress, trauma, and the exacerbation of mental vulnerabilities. But maturity in this case was a negative. In other words, his intense self-reflection contributed to distress.

Despite the kindness he held as a manifestation of his positive experiences, the moral confusion that arose during his negative experiences with bad actors contributed to a delusional intersection between love and murder. The idea that hurting was caring blurred in his mind.

So he was capable of loving, but he was also capable of having a hand in someone's ruination.

This was why he needed a healthy, stable lifestyle and prolonged association with healthy people to distinguish between acceptable and unacceptable behavior and pre-behavioral meditation.

As mentioned earlier, long discussions were helpful in orienting the complex nuances behind common definitions. From a more complex standpoint, communicatory modalities, such as words, tone, and non-verbal expressions, retain and enhance their effective value in ever-evolving social structures through extended engagement with others. In conclusion, interpersonal orientation minimized socio-cognitive latency and optimized the spread through each nodal state, which represented a retrieval cue, of the patterns of socio-reflection.

In sum, Charles was a profoundly self-aware yet damaged soul, who could only keep going in order to exact the ideal of kindness to repatriate it into the world.

He was a person who idealized calculation or self-interested cold heartless planning, but in a world so full of death, he was just a man. But that was more than enough for his purposes.

He would do anything to make them smile. He would do anything to do something for once in his life. He would bloody his hands to destroy evil and Suffering.

Ultimately, even if John Roger was likely grooming him for violent progression, he would not be helplessly still.

He would be mentally unstable in his path to progress, because humiliating oneself to do the right thing was weird and crazy.

Charles stared at John Roger, and it was all he needed to feel a sense of excitement. He didn't desire control. He desired to love John Roger, as his role models loved his younger self, the kind, incorruptible, perseverant weakling who failed many times to stand for himself and the people he cared about.

He would do something this time. He would not sit still. He would become the epitome of grace and beauty.

He would become everything.

Instead of doing anything, Charles watched his new boss, John Roger, as the meeting between Charles, the 70 adventurers, and John continued. He was not a part of the group of proxy adventurers officially yet.

The only sign of his big inner thoughts was an invisible teardrop from his left eye down his cheek.

Meanwhile, John Roger smiled playfully, his voice like a jolt: "Isn't that great? Why don't you guys just relax and take your time? Here, have some food. I know what I said was a little heavy, but we must press on, right? We don't want to have to do anything else but keep going right? It's hilarious though, isn't it? No joke, right? I've seen plenty of goblins over there and over here, and I know you guys want to take them out. But let's be serious. I haven't been able to get the gate done yet, so it's good that you guys were there. I'm thankful. Good job everyone. I know, I know. It's difficult, and it's not. It's so awesome though, but it can be quite tiring. Here's the food." A group of women entered with one woman leading at the front, placing bowls on a table nearby sequentially. It took over 10 minutes before all the bowls were carried from outside the room onto the table. "Thank you, Lortraine," John said, nodding decisively.

The woman smiled politely and left the room, closing the door.

The adventurers stared at John, glancing between each other, as they slowly got up one by one. They widened their eyes and slowly raised a hand, hesitantly pointing at the food and at themselves. Basically, they were communicating if they could eat.

"Eat!" John said with a polite thumbs-up. Though, he leaned back with a confident and almost introspective posture, looking downward and putting his hands on his hips in a composed manner.

Despite his speaking skills, John was merely good at speaking from a performer–audience or leader–servant angle. He was like an introvert who went wild on a stage.

"What matters is we get things done, right?" said John, pointing out the papers on the ground next to the adventurers. They placed it down when they started eating. Each of the papers showed a detailed map of their current activities and plans for what they should do by the end of the month. He also put the word "rewards" at the bottom. It was like a regular quest. He knew exactly what adventurers loved, as he was a fan of them.

The adventurers maintained a wide-eyed, humble demeanor, some nodding minimally in response.

He addressed one of the adventurers quiet enough only for the two of them to understand and sat down beside him. He began talking louder, as the adventurers began talking to each other in groups as well.

John couldn't maintain his playful tone and said seriously: "How are you now?"

The adventurer he was speaking to was a man named James Boulevard. "Good," he said awkwardly, as he was trying to sip the noodle halfway in his mouth. He noticed his fingers got wet with the soup, so he clumsily used his own clothes to wipe the soup off his hand.

John looked around and realized he didn't have cloths for wiping here, so he just ignored James' mess. "How 'good'?" He smiled subtly as James tried to sustain raised-eyebrows look.

"Good in the sense that I was able to save several dogs today—" He chuckled. "It was a good thing that I was able to finish off my painting before that." He was proud of his paintings, so he often showed them in his living room. In contrast, he was also a small-time adventurer who enjoyed taking small jobs. In the end, the fact that he became one of John Roger's proxy adventurers was a testament to John's followers' understanding of the street. But it was more than just his perspetcive as a small-time adventurer. He was a really talented person in connecting himself with big-time adventurers due to his paintings. The fact that he got involved with a noble like John Roger proved that he was more than just a habitual artist. It may seem like James was a useless doormat, but being someone with lots of elucidating connections meant a lot in a very confusing city full of complex structures, especially considering magic. He was like a stack of torches in a dark forest where monsters roamed.

If someone was not talented in raw fighting power, they could be talented in everything else that mattered much more in a society. Punching taxes was not going to solve anything, but being an adventurer with lots of connections and a strong understanding of their social framework did.

This was why John Roger had to make sure to have as much James as he could, because they represented the social fabric rather than a hot potato of a fighting tool. As for why power was a hot potato, several reasons could be identified. One, maintaining armed forces was expensive and tiring for not just the government but also for the individuals within these forces as well. Two, public scrutiny from other nobles and people in general was like having the sun lying next to one when sleeping. Three, power was inherently unstable, as just two years was enough for someone to lose everything completely. It could even be less than that, as controlling a population was challenging, similar to using one's tongue to remove the food debris stuck in one's teeth. So clear and regularly supplied rewards and objective results were needed to maintain effectiveness of this power organization. People were not static numbers that supplied a certain amount of power for each future fight. They were ever-changing and always requiring new things to stay in good fighting form. It was like taking care of kids who were stuck in the puberty and coming-to-age stage forever, but the kids were many. And the world they seek to affect was full of many people who set boundaries and would retaliate if he didn't respect norms and processes. If someone like him could kill everyone, who could deny that someone was holding back the same power to do so? He had to be defensive for the most part and aggressive judiciously.

That was why he needed to be active in the administrative process of the government in order to reap the benefits of a noble, which would make executive connections smoother for himself.

At the moment, James was enjoying his food, as the rest of the adventurers sat around and laughed with each other because of a joke that shook them like a tornado.

It was hearing their enthusiastic voices primarily from his right ear that John recognized that adventurers did live a life he couldn't.

The next day, on day 21, elsewhere, the teenage group including Billy, Nathan, Notch, Shadrach, Robert, and 7 other boys and 2 women were already a well-established part of a low-level adventurers organization. Rather than being directly connected to adventurers as a whole, they offered services that leaned more to small tasks like trash collectors and such. Fortunately, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair showed support and guided them through the process, which Nathan soon learned to accept due the level of stability they achieved on their own.

"Hi guys, how are you doing?" said Nathaniel, smiling enthusiastically.

Billy could tell immediately that something was wrong, but he dared not say anything until Nathaniel revealed it himself.

Notch asked, "Nathaniel, are you okay?"

Nathaniel stopped and almost chuckled, but he shook his head. "I lost my job."

"Really?" Notch said, looking away as if he heard Nathaniel talk about something casual. But he maintained respectful eye contact.

Nathaniel's grin deepened. "Yeah."

"Is it because of us?' Notch sounded casual rather than guilty. He glanced at the rest of the members of his teenage group.

Nathaniel shook his head. It was his choice to go so far for the boys. "No."

"Then why?"

"The board lost confidence in me after I extended my hand too thinly for you guys."

"Then why didn't you make better decisions?" Notch said, putting pressure on Nathaniel.

Concerned about the possibility of Notch offending Nathaniel, Billy interjected, "Hey."

Nathaniel said, "I did try, but it looks like I really was asking for too much from those under my jurisdiction... at the time."

"Yeah, I can see why that's the case, I think," said Shadrach.

Nathaniel glanced at Shadrach.

Notch sighed. "I don't know."

Another boy used this as an opportunity to fill the gap, Marche, saying, "Nathaniel, can you help us carry these boxes and things?" He pointed to a list of boxes that Billy's parents used for their vendor stall.

"Okay..." said Nathaniel. "Wait, I'm not capable. I mean, my hands and my body are not that strong."

"I get you. Then, sit down over there." Marche pointed to a dirty curb.

Notch, Shadrach, and Billy returned to carrying the crates and grabbing old papers that fell to the ground and were being pushed away by the wind. They were planning to use these papers for a fire.

They showed up to a small-time quest regarding catching a bunch of rabbits in a big forest as one team.

They had a game plan now, as Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair was present.

Notch fell to the ground. "What now?" he mouthed to himself.

The trauma of losing 48 friends in front of him was weighing on him, and Nathaniel's news made him relive the feeling.

He burst into tears.

He was only a kid.

Notch, Shadrach, and Billy embraced each other, all beginning to cry loudly, as the rest of the group guided them away from the crowds and into some place more private in the wilderness. They went back to Northe Road, the only place where they could go and where it was relatively quiet.

Nathaniel followed behind, tears dripping down his face.

At 13 years old, Shadrach saw his mind swirl, as he ventured into the dreams he had several days ago, distracting himself. When he saw that he was distracting himself, which was a sign of distress, he began to write down the words on a notepad: "I wanna die."

At 18 years old, Billy began to shake, as he suppressed his frustration, a manifestation of grief.

At 11 years old, Robert imagined what would happen if he became cool like a noble, as his childish thoughts and his grief coincided to form a sense of emptiness and an inability to think at all.

At 16 years old, Nathan was staring down, but he didn't feel anything. He couldn't, and he was only looking down to respect the seriousness of the situation. He didn't know why he felt calm, but he was also scared now that he knew that he was calm when it was unnatural, considering he was a part of the traumatic incident alongside Notch and the rest. He was trying to deal with it his own way, but it was a bewildering journey.

Still, Nathaniel wanted to help them. But to be truthful, even with everything, all he desired was to remain part of his wife's life and his family's. He had several children, but none of them were human beings.

If they could become like the love of gods in this earth, then maybe they would be okay.

Chapter 23 - James Boulevard: The Goblin Slayer
Elsewhere, fortunately, following the meeting with John Roger, Charles walked outside, following the lead of the adventurers as he stumbled upon a goblin camp. The information of scouts led them here, and some of the scouts were screaming for help as goblins plunged their knives into their sides.

The human scouts' bodies fell to the ground like a bunch of buildings under magically enhanced siege.

One of the aforementioned adventurers with Charles, James Boulevard, was there.

James, facing the wrath of the goblins, brought upon them his superiority.

He slashed them and laughed, slashing them again and again. "Disgusting, wretched creatures!"

He slashed them from the left and from the right. He stomped their heads and kicked them forth.

"I hate these things!" he said.

He married his sword into their eyes of light and cut them short in halves.

He sliced little lines that extended past the beauty of their skin and entertained the light of the sky. He joined the heavenly praises of eternity when he sank his blade upon their skull.

He released his blade into the hurricane of a series of kicks, stabs, and slices that created a beautiful imprint of red and blue. The red was the blood, and the blue was the water that rained down, blending the noiseless blood with the brightest sky.

He loved them thoroughly by murdering their mind of evil.

Justification was his weapon.

Bleeding them, he watched the adventuers nodding decisively, feeling the weight of the nods like the mountains themselves were bowing. It was the pressure of societal decision-making and cultural erasure. He was casting his mighty love upon their weakly souls by separating the wheat from the chaff. No more pain. No more suffering.

Joyous moments of gladness happily shook hands, and it was here that the worth of a human being was defined from the goblin kind. The hatred of monkeys and goblins by humans were that fear of meaningless and broken hegenomy.

He loved people, but goblins received his bitter end.

He would let the rough end drag, and the erosion here would be the goblins' faces upon the coarse path.

He nodded with himself. He had completely justified murder: the rats, devils, and secret puppeteers of the government, the goblins, were now gone.

Fleeing, the goblins that remained turned their backs on the humans.

In their shared language, they called the humans "Kalats". Moreover, "goblins" was an exonym, and goblins were not a single, distinct, or self-defined people. As for why they were people rather than "monsters" or "barbarians", these latter terms were derogatory ways to denote a person with different speech and customs.

The goblins, helpless, looked at their hands.

Their ego was going to fall down the drainage patterns again.

As they looked at their fellow goblins screaming and crying as their lives were taken away before their time, it entered their mind that they should punish the oppressor in kind.

They ran, giving their lives for their goal.

Charles locked eyes with the last goblins in the camp.

The terror in their faces shifted to rage when the goblins recognized that they had to keep moving forward.

The adventurers and the goblins collided.

"I'm sorry, Grace."

"I'm sorry, Clara."

"I'm sorry, Aidan."

"I'm sorry, Ciara."

"I'm sorry, Andrei."

"I'm sorry, Robyn."

"I'm sorry, Alkers."

The goblins had spoken their last words to their loved ones one by one.

The adventurers looked distressed, overshadowing the frail bodies of the fallen, which comprised of all the goblins and one adventurer.

The adventurers gathered together around the fallen adventurer like an embrace or a fortified fortress.

They were never going to lose again.

Yet, they lost a friend.

Later, they began to grieve over their friend, Michael.

"What did he like?"

"He liked the sun and the way it seemed to crack."

"What did he last want to do?"

"He wanted to ride a dragon."

"What was he like?"

"He was a strong man, who only thought about what he had to do. He kept going and doing everything in order to make sure he was not becoming a monster. He always asked himself whether or not he was doing the right thing by going into adventuring rather than staying with his family in a safer job. He said once that maybe, he was indeed a monster for not spending enough time with his family and for becoming an adventurer, an honest but unappreciated role in the world."

The fallen adventurer, Michael, got a burial, while the goblin militants rotted.

It was only right that Michael got it, as the goblins were just violent monsters who wanted to erase humanity.

The morning was bright, and it stared upon the goblins and humans. The strands of nature extended outward like the hands of the goblins when they looked at them earlier. The vibrations of the forest with all their sounds, birdsong, and pleasures looked similar to the shaking hands of the goblins as they began to charge earlier. The clearings of the forest looked red in the sunset like the bloodied nails of the rotting goblins.

James enjoyed fighting goblins, and his hatred of them was normal. It was like enjoying a cup of water in the morning. It was so ingrained that he didn't use the word "culture" for it. It was just like breathing. Since it was so culturally normal for people to slay monsters, James still retained his values of loving people, specifically humans. In other words, he didn't extend that empathy to goblins. But his hatred was also not shared by everyone.

He didn't hate them. It was not that he hated them, but they were so detestable that it was like looking at a disgusting child. Some animals were so horrid and like pests that they deserved to die. He would feed a goblin to a bear because of how horrid they looked.

It was not hatred. He was not trying to be. He was an understanding of the social fabric. He was a part of that social fabric, and in this social fabric, he was capable of the subsequent removal of pests. Goblins were not pests. They were more like people that had a big problem with management and control. They were incapable of humanity. They were incapable of thought processes that adhered to more higher purposes. It was sad that the goblins died, and it was really not that great. Preferably, he would look at them and say okay. But the problem was that they kept going and did their things. And it wasn't great. They were killing people. That was not great. He had to stop them and do something about it. He didn't kill anyone. He just saved people. Goblins were not something that deserved to die. It was more so that their actions led them to the point where their life was not at all productive or lending to a higher hopeful sky. It was like seeing a monster decide they want to do the most horrible thing in the world. He was not saying that they were monsters. He was saying they were like monsters.

They were just things one killed to get stronger and improve one's skills. Adventurers were becoming better and stronger and more capable of defending people and being able to find treasures and loot. They were learning about the world.

The goblins—they were problematic—needed to do the right thing. And killing was not good, but goblins killing was not good either. Humans had to do something. They had to change things for the better, and it was true that they—the goblins—killed people. It was horrible seeing the goblins killing people. Sure, James did not see a single goblin kill a civilian, but he trusted people who saw it happen. He was not going to pretend that people were just liars when their entire life was clearly destroyed as a result of goblins. So goblins needed to start making sure that each of them were in proper form and focus. If one of them decided to kill a human family, then it was up to the rest of the goblins to take responsibility and recognize that they had to do something about it.

James and the other adventurers were merely making sure that goblins did not get away with murder.

Goblins did horrible shit, so it wasn't great at all. And James was being nice by giving them some respect by staring at them and saying, "These people..."

He was not saying that goblins were people. He was saying that they were representations of human values in the sense that they were doing everything wrong, and humans were trying to strive for the goal of peace and prosperity.

He had more to talk about the violent and oppressive culture of the goblins and how much they supported the violence against humans.

But he didn't hate goblins. He just thought that people had to die in order for other people to live happily and in privilege. He could have been born as a goblin, but he was a human now. And his responsibility extended toward the control of the unchecked population growth of goblins.

So he was sorry to the goblins, but at the same time, it was part of his culture that monsters like goblins had to be hunted for loot and rewards. He couldn't just tell people to stop killing goblins, because it was a part of who they were. It was like telling people to eat pulses and vegetables only. It was unfair for them to bear such a heavy weight.

A person could easily judge the adventurer culture if they came from a culture that considered goblins to be citizens that deserved equality with humans. But becoming estranged from your family, friends, and everyday people after opposing one's own culture was not something that regular people were willing to give up. The only people willing to give up their relationships was those who had already given up. He didn't want to get attention or be hated. He wanted to fit in the social fabric and be invisible. He didn't want to be that guy. He was not that guy who was going to save everyone. He was just a regular person. He didn't want to hurt anyone or make people feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to lose everyone because he imposed a new social standard. He wanted to be with everyone and have fun. He wanted to have a good time and relax with people whom he could trust. He was afraid of breaking out of the social fabric. He already lost communities so much due to time and change, and he was already much older now since then. With all that time, he only grew more intensely to love the performative nature of the hatred of goblins. It was a social construct, but he did it naturally because that was what a social construct was—born and raised. It was like eating with family and friends on special days. It was like attending cultural events and dancing along with them. It was like using a certain common phrase to greet strangers and friends. It was more than all of these comparisons, because it made people happy and it was politically supported, giving a sense of cohesion across so many different communities. It was like paying respects to someone older. He was not at all the kind of person who would murder goblins if it wasn't praised so much. He would not kill anyone if there was no market or support for it. He would just sit down idly and relax and be a kind older man if people allowed him to be, but the physical daringness of adventurers was loved, thousands of hands reaching out for it.

It was like waking up in the morning and hearing the family one grew up with talk in the same way they had always done, but ever since one was young, alongside their kind, loving, and heartful actions and proclamations, they added a small statement that implied support for the hatred or killing of goblins every once in a while. This statement was with a quiet, disapproving voice, but it was usually brief and transient. It was culture and family values, and it was like being able to walk or being able to talk everyday. Losing these two would similar to losing his support for the hatred or killing of goblins.

In sum, he was not special, so he tried to fit in.

Meanwhile, in a dungeon nearby, a detachment of adventurers from Charles' group sang, as they arranged themselves like the various rooms of a manor.

The adventurers ran, pulling the goblins from one room to the next, entering into a corridor that led to multiple corridors.

Simultaneously, another section of adventurers ambushed the goblins from one of these corridors.

From among the adventurers, one adventurer bounced and slashed three goblins off their destinies.

Two adventurers skipped over and defended against a heavy blow from a goblin with frenzied eyes.

In the meantime, several goblins began preparing a brutal wave of magic, as particles emerged from the ground and floated to the ceiling. Flashing lights burst from all over the corridor, as adventurers tried to sink their teeth into the weaker goblin right flank.

Before the adventurers could reach them, the goblins revealed that the magic they were preparing was a distraction for a volley of arrows they hid behind the magic.

As soon as the arrows hit, the adventurers collapsed, as the goblins ran all over them, slaying them all.

In the end, in contrast to the 14 dead goblins on the ground, the group of fallen adventurers numbered 30.

One of the goblins, a necromancer raised his arms, and the dead goblins' eyes opened, as they stretched their magically reforming bodies.

The necromancer could care less about the politics of goblins and humans from the viewpoint of a regular goblin. He was part of a "Pan-goblinist" group that sought to unite all goblins. What he cared most about was becoming a god. He moved his hands to the left and right, as he controlled magical particles at the small and precise level. Then, as soon as the goblins stood up, he clasped his hands, governing magically at the larger level, as the a silver wave emerged from his hands and slapped against the goblins. This completed the revival process at the cost of a huge sum of mana and years of imbuing marked mana into them while they were still alive. This marked mana was a specific kind of mana used to prepare the allied target for spells that required a certain amount of a kind of mana specific to each spell.

The reason he used this special revival spell now was because the adventurers were like titans, so any chance of beating them had to be used as promptly as possible. He was among certain descendants of prominent and influential goblin officials in the Joynehem.

In the end, he won, leaving the detachment of proxy adventures belonging to John Roger obliterated and swooping over the territory of the dungeon.

Overall, this was the natural ebb and flow of territories between adventurers and monsters.

Chapter 24 - Navigating the Abyss: A Compromise of Life and Death
Shifting to Charles' perspective, he was still apprehensive about murder and about the social structures that defined stability, struggling to marry his thoughts of hope and love with the brutality that adventurers employed in their systematic proceedings. It was like seeing the dirt of a city being thrown away systematically. It was a necessary pressing of the grapes to yield the vineyard wine. Despite his many experiences of killing "insects", which were the goblins in this case, in his former close-knit communities, he still leaned toward goblin separation from humans rather than territorial killings. He preferred policing the goblins and creating borders to help keep the heightened tension between them separate and distinct in order to cultivate growth while emancipating responsibility from bloodied hands. It was a compromise, a deadly one still, but he wanted to be free from all this death. His eyes didn't want to see the goblins and their suffering anymore, nor did he want the adventurers to grapple with the struggle of maintaining a sense of humanity. He was not okay with all of this, and it showed through a grimace. He wanted to push the wheel of overall decision-making toward segregation and camps. As for what he meant by "camps," he thought moving goblins into camps if humans needed the territory and land would keep things simultaneously stable and not barbaric. He believed goblins were willing to participate in this resorting in order to promote human–monster peace and stability.

But he was not sure. Maybe, his solution was wrong. It had been done before, and disease would spread through the camps implicated in the past, causing thousands of deaths. But it was better than a war that caused 200,000 deaths. He was trying to fix the issue by relocating the damage into a contained place so that it didn't "spread" and "contaminate" everything else. It was similar to moving away spoiled apples from fresh apples. He knew how loaded his analogies and terms were, but he thought that if the goblins wanted to continue existing as a species, a compromise had to be made. The humans were not going to relent anytime soon, as they preferred their rights over the idea of sympathizing with a monster. He was being realistic. He likened the segregation and camps to the communities that made up society, notably his former close-knit communities. These communities were separated from society yet interconnected. If he could make it so that the segregation and camps led to growth in human–goblin interconnection overtime. It could be a geopolitical success, considering the geographical wealth that goblins and humans would have as a whole. Yet, a human–goblin merger could be very bad for competition and growth, as it was easier to give goblins independence due to the cultural simplification and alignment and financial expenses involved in driving human–goblin transformation and restructuring. Letting goblins and humans grow independent from each other was likely to lead to better outcomes in terms of novel solutions and a more well-rounded growth overall. In the end, managing human–goblin tensions and interests while recognizing expenses, indepedence, competition, and growth was challenging.

His strong understanding of human–goblin relations resulted from his experiences with many, diverse close-knit communities rather than treatises. He applied these small microcosms by replicating them across a broader context in society—a form of extension or extrapolation.

Speaking of understanding, meanwhile, Billy, Shadrach, and Notch and the rest of their group were relaxing, but they knowingly waited for which issues mining would present with. Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair returned as the leader of the mining corporation after its board realized how much influence he held over the communities of the city. The miners of this corporation that trusted him demanded his return, signing a letter that promised that they would quit if Nathaniel didn't return. His history of supporting miner unions and advocacy for mining entrants, among others, supported this decision.

Now, he was required to report how many people he was apprenticing, what ages these people were, for what reason, the mother's place of residence, and by what method. He was already reporting before, but it was not that consistent.

Regardless, now that Nathaniel and his re-apprenticed associates, Billy, Shadrach, Notch, other other 9 boys, and the two women, could collaborate on a larger scale rather than alone. He was able to inform and educate them regarding mining with the help of people from his corporation. This led to them being able to anticipate a list of issues.

Secondly, Nathaniel and his followers hired two adventurers this time to protect the boys: Red Striker and Lencriat.

Third, since Nathaniel had to report regarding his apprentices, he began an introduction session.

"Now, this is a continuation of the last time we met in my neighborhood. I want you guys to slowly take your time first. I really don't want anyone left out this time.

"We need to set goals and really get things together. The entire world is changing, so we need to stay in our lane. This means we're going to have to say a bunch of things about ourselves, if that's alright with you guys. I don't want to push you guys any more than I have, but this is needed. If you guys don't want it, it's fine, but do recognize that we cannot move forward from here if you guys aren't willing to work out differences and be honest. We need honesty here, folks. So, kindly please tell me your names first, so that the two guards, the adventurers, can listen."

"Notch."

"Robert."

"Shadrach."

"Nathan."

"Billy."

"Ethan."

"Sophia."

"Noah."

"Liam."

"Alexander."

"Oliver."

"Ava."

"Jackson."

"Benjamin."

Nathaniel continued, "What are your ages? Back from the same order. Do it again from the same order."

"14."

"11."

"13."

"16."

"18."

"16."

"18."

"14."

"15."

"19."

"17."

"19."

"17."

"14."

Nathaniel said: "That's good. I think you guys are all above 13, except for Robert. Yes?"

The boys and women looked at each other, slowly beginning to nod.

Decisively, Nathaniel nodded with a hum. "What's next? What do you guys want to know about mining besides the one I already told you? I mean, you can ask about monsters and adventurers and all of that. I don't want to give too much information, because you guys shouldn't be thinking about all of that. What you need is experience and focus. So focus and tell me what you guys feel is appropriate for the mining." He spoke quickly and reflectively with a soft, carefree voice, as if expecting things to change at any moment.

"What should we wear?" said Liam. "What are our clothes?"

Nathaniel said: "Ah, that's a, that's a good question I think, because I guess we all need clothes. If you guys don't like your clothes, I can help you guys some. Though, you guys told me about the market. I want you guys to do that yourself. With the adventurers' help of course." He glanced at the two adventurers next to him, and they nodded slightly in understanding.

"Right!" He smiled in an approachable manner. "We need to get clothes for you guys, but more than that, we need weapons, right? Or maybe you guys don't care about that.

"I know... like why weapons? It's really weird, and it's not really that great. People could die, but at the same time, weapons don't matter, right? But the problem is... as you guys have... know... It's—without saying—necessary. It's like the only thing that you should care about right now. So I'm going to help you guys fight, if that's what you guys are interested... in. This is not at all what we planned first, I know. Initially. But it's what we have now. So let's get things together cohesively and put our thoughts so that we can just move on from this. All of this nonsense that comes with mining. I am frustrated regarding our progress, and I also care about you guys. So hopefully, we can—you know—"This is finished" rather than feeling like everything's falling apart, you know. We are completely and utterly dead, okay? I am probably not helping you guys right now, but if we can just get this done. Then, we should move on, right?"

What he was saying was casual and served as a way to bring a sense that they were in the same game, awkward, broken, and tired yet brimming with fervor. They were glad to be a part of this all over again. It was not the same this time. They could do it this time, because they knew that maybe, they would finally achieve their goals.

To streamline the discussion, Notch said, "What weapons would be good against monsters?"

"Anything at this point. We have the adventurers, so we can be experimental."

"What does that mean? Why? Why not just grab the best of the best?"

"Because we don't know what's going to hit us, so it's best to stay slow and relaxed. Don't try too hard. Do something that you prefer and finish everything, so that we don't have to deal with anything. It's not that great to force things. We need to elaborate how things work and then just work it out. Basically, do whatever is making sense to you guys right now. The mining part, of course, requires strict adherence to goals and objectives and benchmarks. We are not that great, right now. Our progress at a stuck stand point right now. We need to develop that's completely yours, so do suggest."

"So we should pick anything?" asked Notch, smiling somewhat dismissively, confused. What he was hearing was basically do anything without any kind of thought behind it, but maybe he was wrong. The approach that Nathaniel was taking in terms of his diction and speech felt inefficient and meandering. Notch wanted to get this done, and he trusted him regarding how to proceed. So he was hoping to help Nathaniel by providing his thoughts, even if, as a peasant, he was not the best example of someone who deserved to be rewarded for his efforts. In the end, he wanted to move on and get things done.

"In essence, yes. We should not... I don't want to be too prescriptive, so do think for yourselves how you're going to approach this. And then I can correct you, as we move along. This should be much more organic and smoother than what we did last time. You know. Sorry."

Notch cringed in frustration, which Nathaniel himself in the past would have done in response. However, Notch tempered himself, and Nathaniel was different now. "I want to know exactly what's coming. Is there any details about that."

"The... Hmm... We shouldn't go into the details just yet, because there's a lot." He chuckled when he said "lot". "I'm not kidding. If we start talking about, we're going to be really long here, so I want you guys to focus on just mining. It's an enjoyable process if you guys don't feel bothered too much about the air quality, the isolation, the smell, the back-breaking labor, the food, the way everything just feels icky and wrong, the... Everything. It's not great if you're looking to be entirely comfortable, but I know it's a great thing that you guys are here rather than outside. Right?"

Notch and the rest of the apprentices took Nathaniel's words at face level and just nodded compliantly.

In terms of his rationale, Nathaniel was tired of pretending to understand them, so he wanted to focus on stalling and seeing how they would react. This way, when the time came for important, dangerous things, he wouldn't have to deal with unresolved issues and things hidden things under the surface that came out in response to danger. In conclusion, he was intentionally taking his time re-evaluating the boys and women in order to define things for himself and for them with each other: clearing out the obstructing mist.

Notch took a deep breath with pursed lips, making an obvious sound initially.

Nathaniel said: "Just relax and be patient. I don't want any one of you to die." He chuckled. "So please relax, and don't try too much for now. No one expects you to be everything, okay? Just pretend to be nothing, which basically is not pretending any more. You guys are not at all crazy or disgusting or weird. So it's not some moral obligation. I genuinely don't you guys to be inefficient—the lack of efficiency is detrimental and could contribute to a range of issues later on."

Listening to the methodogical way he sounded, the apprentices let go of their initial resistance to his reparative approach to the discussion.

Meanwhile, the two adventurers Nathaniel hired as guards were present throughout the bonding discussion. Because of this, their motivation to stick to the group solidified. In the end, this precluded a Goldberg incident from occurring again.

If Nathaniel was the type to smirk in response to a victory, he would pinch his cheeks and make the widest smirk he could.

Taking a broader view, the cave where Billy, Shadrach, Notch, and the late Millie went and to which Maverick carried bags in the past was important. It was more than just a mine for resources; it functioned as a buffering cache for supplies and resources. In addition, this cave transitioned well into the Northe Road, the name of which was a misnomer for a network of roads that moved activities between two neighboring countries. Moreover, many goblins refered to Northe Road as "Multa." Finally, in light of the above, every other aforementioned story existed together.

As for a status reminder of the overall world 21 days since Maverick's first appearance, the two adventurers who shared a drink with Goldberg after saving him were already on their way. Not just them but everyone else: John Roger of Trogan (1); Sarah, Elizabeth, and Mary (2); Charles (3); James Boulevard and the 69 other proxy adventurers under John Roger (4); the miners under Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair (5); the Marchacha goblins (6); Goldberg, Bean, Catherine, Samuel, Joseph, Benjamin, and William (7); Kahul and his companion (8); the goblin necromancer's group (9); the adventurers who had fought the trolls (10); the adventurers who had gone into Nathaniel's mine to find the Marchacha goblins (11); Goldberg's children, Nash and Leia (12); Goldberg's wife, Priscilla (13); John Roger's servant, Lortraine (14); Catherine Orlov Sinclair (15); the monster in the form of a chest on four spider-like legs and the two humanoid demons (16); the group of protégés (17); the thousand goblins finding a place to establish a settlement (18); the adventurer party whom Nathaniel had hired to help Shadrach for several days (19); the 47 friends, 20 contacts, and 15 enemies that the current and late apprentices had made by networking (20); the task master Sprutnoa (21); and the laborer Inframark (22); among others.

As for the current list of deaths of those who were mentioned previously, they were many and bathed in obscurity: many of their biological families were still ignorant. On top of that, people who almost joined the dead often hid from their families the fact of their near-death in order to avoid living what they used to enjoy but now consider to be meaningless: an effect of post-trauma discontentment. Fortunately, they opened themselves up to fellow survivors, which swerved them toward re-securing a foothold.

Chapter 25 - The Emergence of the Just
At the moment, feeling the weight of his position as the oldest in his original group with Notch and Shadrach, Billy stared at Nathaniel.

He was all for the motivation and the feeling that things were going to work out.

But it was only right that they destroyed society in response to suffering, was it not? So they should become the everything that had ever wanted so that they might obliterate suffering once and for all. This was righteous. If not destroy society, then he should do everything that essentialized power and control. This way, the deaths of his fellow apprentices would not be wasted and turned to nothing. He couldn't pretend anymore.

With his emotions touching their limits, he said yes to Nathaniel's proposal for him, Alexander, Oliver, and Jackson, the oldest of the apprentices.

Nathaniel saw high morale, so he capitalized off it and sent him out to mine out in several directions, equipping him with the best gear and equipment. As for the reason of this, he would be paving the road as the cave would be stubborn at times with lava pockets here and there.

But the problem was that all this time, the wishes for change ripened finally in a rewarding manner. As for what this change would be, it was death on a massive scale, all underpinned by the notion "This world needs a reboot."

In the wilderness, not too far from the city where Nathaniel and the others were, a man formed from the dust, and his mind was affixed on the notion.

He smiled and recognized the weight of his purpose and value, bleeding the cities dry of human beings. Goblin kind would cast rice upon him as a symbol of their profound gratefulness for the salvation that he would bring upon this world through the death of the human species.

He mattered, and his destiny aligned with love and authority. So he would destroy the [human] places.

It was not that he was destined here necessarily. It was that he was justified that he was here right now at this moment. The world justified his existence and told him, "You matter." So his existence was justified by necessity alone.

He would become the epitome of their prayers and wishes, their cries and debts, their atonements and their grief and loss. He represented them—their rage and their desire to rip apart the human scum.

He walked, every step a justification of the emergence of his existence. It was truth, divine, glory, and terrible. It was an all-consuming flame.

He magically cast his love, sending meteors of varying sizes upon the human settlement.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel was one of many to experience the sound of the thunderous impact of a magical meteor shower. Death accumulated slowly like water floating "upward" in a space.

This was the Just's love.

To clarify, the Just was the man who had sent the meteors.

The thing was that the Just was just a powerful person who had lived a long ambitious life that lasted several months. He only emerged now because he was suddenly called to his current path through some strange, unknown magical solution. In his life before he was called, he met many, many people and beat many enemies, so he was possessed in a sense. He had become the Just, representing a role or identity that was perhaps predestined or unavoidable.

"The solution to solve the human race" was to massacre them weakly, broken people because they deserved it. It was not rage or anger that entailed his actions. It was love, and he was giving them much needed massacring love.

The Just appeared in the city, walking.

The men of the city avoided him or confronted him, but they would die all the same.

It was the story of old. Natural disasters would undo human life, and he was something like that: a punishment by divine intervention. It was a magical experience to see hundreds of adventurers running and trying to escape the end.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, two former friends of the Just were walking toward the city, aware of his ungodly transformation.

"He must have drunk a potion and turned evil because of it," said a man named "Malkov". "What else could have happened! He was gone just like that! Yesami is gone!"

Next to Malkov, a man named "Junjirou" laughed exasperatedly.

The Just was Yesami.

In the Just's eyes, he was embracing each adventurer, showing the love he wanted to, but he abandoned his kindness to reach his ambitions because the only way he could help others was to get results. He was hugging each one of them, sitting down with them, and talking about their lives in order to reach a sense of meaning and truth with regard to the value of human life.

Shifting to reality, adventurers fell, as the Just held them and burned them with fists of flame. The world felt like a hourglass cracking, spinning, turning, gravitating inwardly into a miniscule ball of infinity. It was death turning its head.

He felt so incapable of loving others that he became the Just, who could only "love" through the most mute form of expression: violence. If he could eat them, swallow them, bite them, lick them, crush them, punch them, slap them, burn them, take their life away, then, in his sick and twisted mind, he would finally be able to love others, as all other methods seemed to fail, especially considering his highly ambitious past.

Now that the Just was complete, he begun.

First, in a dim alley, a weight smashed into the warrior's back, and he fell lifelessly.

Second, next to this warrior, a mage's protective barrier slowly evaporated along with him, leaving only bits and pieces.

Third, in the distance, a barbarian succumbed to a colossal weight on his shoulder, his eyes becoming still. His body hit the ground.

Fourth, elsewhere, a sorcerer's desperate spells backfired, as her mana and life force disappeared. Her body collapsed.

Fifth, on the rooftops nearby, an archer, seeking refuge, fell to an blast of magic.

Sixth, in the darkness of a nearby alley, a cleric's prayers went answered, as light shone. But the light got cut out, and the ground swallowed her whole. Lastly, she reached out, smiling, before she exploded.

Seventh, several steps away, an armored paladin's defenses shattered as he became too terrified to think. In the meantime, a hammer-like force smashed him to dead silence.

Eighth, in the distance, seeing the paladin's body, a warlock's invocation turned against them, the shadows strangling her to lifelessness.

Ninth, while the warlock fell to the ground, a druid's tried to commune with nature, reaching out with a smile, as roots from the ground strangled her as well.

Tenth, close by, a couple of bards's melodies got cut short as hundreds of spike-like waves struck them in the neck, as they suffocated on their own blood. Eventually, the invisible force even crushed their spirit, leaving them lifeless amid the chaos.

Eleventh, behind them, a necromancer cried, listening to the ground and the thunder of the peoples' pain. In time, detecting an unforeseen force flying toward him, he relented, letting the dark magic consume him.

Twelfth, beside the necromancer, a swashbuckler pointed out to several groups nearby, accumulating a larger force. From all around them, hundreds of invisible barriers ran toward them, crushing their feet first, then their legs, and, finally, their very souls, leaving them lifeless upon the stone path.

Thirteenth, in the middle of a nearby crowd, a monk tried to deflect an incoming attack, mustering his memories and dreams, his friendships and relationships, his family, mother, father, sister, and brothers, as a force frustrated him, burning him alive.

Fourtheeth, elsewhere, a cleric's healing prayers continued, as she shook, her voice like an oscillating bird. With a pop, she fell to the ground. Her body rolling toward a smelly spot in the street, she noticed a mysterious force eating her amid her vocal turmoil.

Fifteenth, meanwhile, an illusionist's deceptive mirage shattered, revealing the threat that swiftly dispatched him.

Sixteenth, behind the illusionist, a healer reached out to grab the illusionist before she succumbed to an indescribable burning inside her, saying no.

Seventeenth, in the middle of a blood bath, a torchbearer reached out with his torch, hoping to bring light to the darkness of this event. But as soon as he stretched his arms as far as he could until his muscles tensed and his shoulders learned, he collapsed under the weight of the magic of the Just.

Returning to the Just's perspective, love was grandiose.

Incidentally, the about-to-be-dead were loud, and most of them were in shock enough to make weird, probably delusional statements.

"Adam, Adam, please don't leave me!"

"Mom, mom, I'm sorry, Mom!"

"Can you help me one more time! Please!"

"I can believe again..."

"I am a god..."

"Blowing in the wind, morning in the night. Sunshine—"

"A certain cruelty..."

"This life has meant nothing."

"I can finally rest."

"I am the only one with the will to act..."

"We must do the right thing!"

"I tried... In the end... I did."

"They're too afraid, but we, no, we must do something about it. This time, we fight! Are our worths going to be defined by all this death? No! Their death inspires us all! They will not be laid here to rest. They will be carried onward. We shall be the expression of their unfulfilled rage. We press on, soldiers!"

Anyway, the Just implicitly allowed the victims to speak but denied them the chance to live, emphasizing his role as an executioner. He had already selected certain parts of the city to attack, so he wouldn't have to go through the trouble of doing this inefficiently and having to go around again around the same areas to find survivors. In short, the Just's actions are not merely random acts of violence but are driven by a specific goal.

Significantly, his objective was to achieve a clean slate: a desire for a complete reset or reboot of the current state of affairs in the city.

The complexities, structure, organization, and interconnected city was in no way all-knowing of itself and of everything external to it. It was not expecting the Just.

So the Just, with all that he was and was justified to be, ascended in a forward manner, as his campaign of destruction was part of a larger plan or mission.

Now that the social constructs of the city were falling apart, people were beginning to showcase their complexities, and the groups that already existed in the city became definite. Those who prospered only in the social hierarchy and norms rather than in fighting power and intelligence lost their power, becoming frail babies.

The Just was a love letter to the adventurers in a way, as the adventurers were expecting a downward trend that could signal the end of their reign.

In any case, whatever the concerns of those still living, the Just would remain predestined.

Now, he was a patient man, considerate of the powers that be, but he was already on his way.

The problem was that many people were here: peoples from all kinds of different backgrounds and stories. Some of them were only kids who just got their training in magic, elven archers, tinkerer gnomes, drarven blacksmiths, halfling rogues, orc barbarians, mages, wizards, healers, clerics, rangers, paladins, bards, sorcerers, levitating monks, necromancers, beast tamers, doppelgangers, and prominent human warriors who excelled in a variety of skills like blacksmithing, archery, swordsmanship, and political plots. This list doesn't even include the civilian professions. So the Just was casting his gazes at a populace and society, its individuals of interest largely unmentioned.

So either time would slow down in order for each person to gather themselves and express a long oral biography regarding how they came to be and their potential with attendant ambitions, fears, concerns, influences, and relations or the Just would just move on, a compact mass of flesh turning their beauty and glory, the richness of their lives, into shreds of past memories, an abandoned cohort of houses. To conclude, it was murder of a high order: genocide.

If each of the individuals shared their life story, they would make up thousands of interesting stories, each sharing a piece of a pie called Society. Nevertheless, the Just wouldn't place them over his objective.

It was a matter of prioritization, not evil, according to the Just. Just as one might place emphasis on the long term, he placed emphasis on the eradication of human society for the perceived benefit of the world, as ecologically, the world could use a break. In the grand scheme of things, indeed, they were meaningless. Spreading awareness of the world was too challenging, even with magic, as people would always find a way to reject what was right in front of them.

But that was only the Just's justification. Instead of using dialectic, he was using destructive force in order to impose himself upon others: individual benefit at the expense of the many rather than the well-being of the entire community. It was oversimplification because it was idealistic, but so was black-and-white thinking and the unyielding hatred toward certain marginalized populations.

So in this case, the marginalized populations would be humanity within the city in the "Great Slaughter," the future name for today's event. To clarify, this subset of humanity was marginalized relative to the grand scheme of things which offered no respite except for a drowing meaninglessness in the perspective of the Just.

It would be much better for him to engage in dialectic that provoked violent thinking instead of beginning genocide directly.

So genocide bla bla bla.

But this made the fight even more fun!

The Just swung his arms around, as several adventurers attempted to block, each of them gaining their composure. Simultaneously, the Just flicked a finger up, as several adventurers fell to the ground, their arms twisting and turning due to a magical gravitational force. Several adventurers grabbed the affected ones and healed them quickly, drinking potions in preparation, while they summoned magic shields to block the Just's fiery meteors.

The Just was only using one arm now, but his other arm was busy killing isolated adventurers with no protection or healing potion protection in the distance.

So even with the adventurers running to each other, from time to time, adventurers would need to escape in order to prepare their long spells or heal a particularly nasty wound.

So the Just made sure each moment contributed to his end goal of survival and victory.

The adventurers cast a series of long-ranged attacks, coming one after another in order to make room for the destructive capacity that often had a delay after impact for its damage to take full effect. So it was a patient battle with fast movements here and there to give oneself potion protection and magic shields while retreating in order to take care of nasty wounds. Longer spells had to be adjusted with shorter spells, as having the spells deflect against each other would be inproductive. So the adventurers were quick to use spells that fostered communication in order to ensure that proceedings went along seamlessly.

Chapter 26 - The Just's Reign of Terror
Transitioning to the Just's perspective, his eyes were burning, as bats flew out of them, catching the adventurers off guard.

Shifting positions and swapping places between certain adventurers, many of which with a variety of spells that didn't always align well with volleys and larger scale fights. So many spells were underused or unused for the benefit of the effectiveness of the overall fight against the Just.

The Just smirked, as a barrage of spells fell upon the adventurers from the flank, catching them off guard again. He was pretending only to cast from the front and from above, inserting spells that killed off isolated adventurers around the flanks. He did it with slow-acting poisions, so the adventurers would often think that it was exhaustion that stopped them. He was devious, a devilish thinker.

In case the adventurers died all at once enough to block attacks or serve as a deterrent for the benefit of the Just, several adventurers fit their spells in order to avoid having this issue by having a small pause between attacks to make up for assessment, as assessing the direction of one's spell after activation was difficult. Assessment and direction choosing often happened before spell activation, which had a delay before casting.

It was a seamless but break- and swap-filled transitional battle, each with certain adventurers that had to go in front in order to soak up the damage, being the first ones to fall when the healers made a mistake with the timing with the more offensive spells, which could interrupt the healers' magic. It was a matter of conflict between packages of spells, so they had to cast them sequentially and with attention to certain unique spells and their considerations.

As for the Just, he was blasting several adventurers off into an alley, causing their skin to turn black with sickness.

Adventurers climbed from above and shot him with spells, but the Just immediately casted a giant, ghostly hand to bring them all down and use them as human shields. This was costly for his mana, but he did that to make the adventurers hesitate again, as he often incorporated disruptions that lended to a break in routine and order of firing among the adventurer mages.

When the adventurers were too disordered, the Just exacerbated their discord by using his most flashy magic: a basic way to get the adventurers attention while they were busy trying to re-seam power.

Speaking of power, the Just clashed, putting down adventurers one by one from all kinds of positions, showing the adventurers that they couldn't move to safer positions within the main fighting group to avoid his wrath.

They could only advance face-front.

In order to prevent dying to a sweeping attack, the adventurers made sure that each of them maintained a 2-meter distance in the absence of an costly-to-maintain formation-wide magic shield. This made for a nasty attack when the spells were combined, but it depended on the strategic arrangement, not only positionally but in terms of delegation, as individuals each had a unique role and set of skills that required tailored planning.

One used a spell called "[Choke]", so as soon as he got his ability primed, he choked the Just for a brief moment, acting as a punch to the neck rather than a full-on choking.

The Just cancelled his ability and rerouted his mana off to an adventure, centralizing his mana into one spell specifically to obliterate the caster who cast "[Choke]".

But the adventurers made sure to react, centralizing their spells to defend the caster. It was a devastating, singular attack that could be countered with a re-orientation defence. This was like playing with throwing balls, but in the longer scheme of the fight, the Just primarily utilized his isolated adventurer killing left hand and pushed remarkable spell combinations with his right. When he did attack with both arms, it was when the adventurers were particularly lacking. So he made sure that the adventurers would lose by attrition, because a devastating singular attack was easily identifiable and strategically easy to deflect and stay composed against.

This was a matter of underhanded or complex tactics, arming confusion to make orientation hard to do, as simplification was always primary in formation handling. However, the Just was only one person, so his magic had to be casted one by one through his thought process. He could only focus on one spell at a time, but most of his spells were instanteous and requiring little challenge like a master visual artist utilizing a diverse array of techniques but only feeling it as the process of drawing rather than the complexities they served in the final canvas result.

He was a master spellcaster.

So he retreated and dodged away often to avoid having to waste mana blocking certain devastating singular attacks. As for how instanteous the adventurers' attacks looked to him, they were "randomly" inserted during moments where the Just was perceived as most vulnerable to a secretly appendant attack. Delving into how challenging and precise they were, it went insofar as every other easily noticed and overt attack hid a visually or sonically concealed one. From a metaphorical lens, this was like a network of disconnected secret rooms not in the blueprint of a house. On a more visual note, it looked like poly-pronged spells consuming each other and growing in power like an abstract splash of paint on a canvas, evolving into a nasty striking. Finally, it seamed through plans and attacked when back-and-forth responses were most seamless: a moment of pure elegance in "magistry".

It was a binary battle of well-timed, alternating retreats and advances marked by hyper-sensitive and immediate turn-arounds in order to catch the other off guard. Discussing why this occurred, magic facilitated communication, movement, and trades or attacks insofar as the combatants looked like they spasmed directionally back and forth, each incorporating movement at their own pace. Moreover, these retreats and advances were not only positional but also magical, because spells could be rescinded, paused, accelerated, focused, drawn out, broadened, and twisted to fit certain attack arrangements, each restructuring decision with its own set of benefits and consequences. So experiences and histories had to be aligned along with cognitive processes, which served as the foundation for magic incarnate.

So for the most part, the fight should have been more so movements and positions than actual brutal death, but the Just was overwhelming, while the adventurers relied more on their formations and numbers. But their ingrained habits and tactics were isolated to fighting groups of monsters rather than a multi-spell mage, taking into account that even one effective combat spell was commonly impressive.

As soon as the Just beat down the adventurers, he walked over them.

A burst of communication circulated across the adventurers like a watersnake, entering into ears and exiting mouths, as magic glowed from nearby hands. But it was cut off, because the Just killed it.

He just removed them with his hands, and his mind swiftly saw them gone and out of his attention.

The adventurers got back up, as a blast of magic healed all the adventurers. This marked the rise in prominence of one particular healer with a well-combined set of spells. She had stacked her buffs in order to achieve a certain quota to cast the indiscriminate healing in an area of effect. Her aura was already dying down, as the adventurers' broken bodies healed up.

A barrage of spells flew once the Just advanced to a certain distance, as the Just dodged, advancing forward, several spells slamming into his person.

Before the Just began to lose momentum, he swung both arms, magically decapitating those from the weaker right flank, as heads thudded against the ground and rolled downhill. It was "downhill" because they were on an undulating hill, so it was clear that it was uphill when pedestrians travelled upward. But it was not too roughly steep that it felt alarming.

Today was the end of an era. The spells from hundreds of years lost their spark, as the Just one-upped them, not too little that he would get a draw, not too much that he would waste his energy, just enough to get to the next stage. But he was largely inefficient in the grand scheme of things, because he could only play with so much information before he had to accept his limitations and act.

To clarify, the aforementioned "magistry" referred to the use of magic that implied skill and meticulous magic and was often used to praise someone's attention to precision.

The face of one fallen adventurer stared at the Just, his memories whirring, playing back his life.

When he was a boy, he would always ask himself the same question: "What's that?" But now that he was older, he was afraid of asking those questions because everyone around him seemed like they knew what to do. In the end, when he realized that it wasn't only his wife that didn't know much about the world, it was his friends, family, extended family, and all the other adventurers and people he met throughout his life.

After everything he had been learned and achieved as a regular man, he was finally hoping to ascend through the ranks and become an effective leader. This way, he could answer the questions he still didn't know. He would answer the questions of those under him. Simultaneously, he would find the answers to his own questions. He didn't know anything, nor did he expect the Just to kill him and everyone that he knew among the adventurers. He just knew that he had to keep going as usual, but today was different. Indeed, it was because he died, but it was also because he didn't know he could just die like that. If he knew this a long time ago, maybe he wouldn't have tried so much to care about all the useless things like finding answers. Maybe, he would have put all his attention to living simply and caring only for his family and hoping to see them smile, being there for them always. He hated to say that his journey to knowledge was worth it, as he could make much better decisions and teach others better because of it. But he wondered if he lost his soul in the process. He wondered if any of this mattered. Maybe it didn't. Maybe, he was nothing.

Maybe, it was all for naught, but he couldn't accept that, even now as he was dying.

He died.

If he was still here, maybe he would be able to grow and improve overtime, learning to tend to life and others in a positive, overaching way. Moreover, he could have made changes and updated his understanding on life, achieving knowledge in the places he didn't expect. He would learn that life was so much more valuable than he thought, as it was very challenging for life to exist. It was a very complex thing to understand, and the more he understood it, the more he realized that life had value in that it was hard to explain easily. He would find out new ways, experience new things, and find out his perspective was wrong the whole time as he found more nuance behind the things he just accepted as there. He would be able to appreciate things and ideas that initially stood out only as representations and devices as conduits for communication. If he was still here, he would find out he was a very, very awesome person, and he was going to be the best thing he could ever be, sharing knowledge that only he knew because he was the only one to experience that in the way he did in all its specificity.

He would remember when he was playing children's games with his former friends, who were part of a community he was in. It was all so complex and complicated, full of diverse expressions, terms, jokes, and dynamics. It was like being part of a whole world, yet it was only a slice of life. He would remember when he was thirteen, he created so many craft projects, but he didn't show them to others that much. Only a few people got to see them, and they were gone now. These projects told a very long story that he couldn't distill into something fun. More than that, this memory was just one of many thousands. It was who he was that was so unique and ingenious, a person who represented certain kinds of people, yet a person in itself.

But again, this one-time person was not here anymore.

It was better to imagine what he was like in the fictional than to see him in the real, as he was no longer to hear to tell that long, funny story.

Though, the Just loved the idea of slaying individuals. It made the fights more exciting in having high stakes. It was like defeating a powerful enemy full of the divine nature of a whole world inside them. It was like defeating oneself, who was always there and presented challenges beyond one day.

In the end, the Just was like a sudden fatal collision with a magical vehicle to humanity. He didn't make sense. It didn't make sense, yet it made all the sense for magic to breed something so powerful. If one person could do it and reach the black stars, the Just could do it.

So in a way, even if it was wrong, it didn't matter because it was fun. That didn't mean that he wasn't aware of humanity. He grew up seeing people. He even made friends in the form of Maverick and Junjirou, but it was the fact that he just knew that it would be better doing something than living forever in the agony of helplessness. He had to try at least once to destroy a city just to see what it would make him feel. Then, maybe, he would realize that it was not helping him at all. In the end, it was like trying a new activity to see if it worked. His perception of humanity was very out of touch and skewed due to how much he avoided the toxicity of the world, only looking at the good parts and then developing callousness as a result.

Now, as for the most prominent actors, parties, alliances, and confederations within the city, within the theater of the Just's Great Slaughter, the Just was about to face most of them, as brave responders were crowding at the periphery of the Just's established 50-meter radius. Though, this number was arbitrary and only brought up to help give a sense of structure to the responders and those interested in being at a distance enough to observe the Just's actions while feeling safe.

In the face of such meaningless-creating evil, people could only work together and use magic to contact each other and establish unity in this difficult time.

Chapter 27 - Navigating Turbulence: Nathaniel's Inner Conflict and External Challenges
In the meantime, Nathaniel stared at his apprentices, sitting down. "I lost you guys..." He was referring to his 48 late apprentices. "Yet, this happened. I... don't know what to do." It was the first time in a long time that he felt that he truly had no idea what to do. For the most part, saying that one didn't know was merely an expression of how limited human understanding was. But in the case of the Just, he was so overwhelming that his "I don't know" was more only than a philosophical statement. In this situation, it was an expression of dread and helplessness: malaise. This was in spite of the fact that he was right in front of his apprentices, toward whom he felt naturally composed otherwise.

Transitioning to a longer, more complex level, the petrichor that came with the rain earlier, coupled with positive characteristics such as a well-nourished stomach, job satisfaction and work-life balance, a well-rounded lifestyle, robust marital quality, generally good mental well-being, and a wholesome, active physique, made it easier for him to process these emotions in full. This was consistent with his diminishing resistance to venturing into his emotional origins since the fatal incident befalling his late apprentices.

In his confusion, his face shifted subtly from amazement to frustration to happiness to regret to anguish to rage. He cringed through a brief smile, his pain obvious through the subtle stiffening of his cheeks. His brows quietly shifted inward, becoming furrowed. When he smiled again, it fell off, shifting into a partially teeth-closed and jaw-tight expression of pain. Then, his smile became that of scorn and mockery, as his brows danced between anguish and exhaustion. Overall, his expressions were brief and quick, happening in enough time for him to express everything before the boys could heed them enough to interpose about it.

In all his pain, no words could express the complex relationship between his whole history and how they all led to this moment. He knew frustration really well and was well-equipped to bounce back and turn any moment into a win. However, he was also compartmentalizing, putting his pains to the back of his mind with a tag that read "To process later". This was his resilience, not necessarily callousness. People like him could abide by the need to address struggles only when the current situation allowed for it. In contrast, people who couldn't postpone their emotions or delay the gratification of expressing their pains were those who needed time, space, resources, and a healthy environment to mature. Nathaniel just had that kind of environment, so he was normal. It was the political or business aspect of him that might have made him seem disgusting, terrifying, or oppressive. In his personal life, he was a nice person; though, it was impressions of someone through their occupation and the way they were characterized by others that diverged from his actual self.

But Nathaniel couldn't go around willy-nilly spreading the idea that his personal history was a virgin forest for others to habitate.

Either way, to balance the argument about Nathaniel's business side and more approachable personal side, he regarded himself married to his work, as he thought it normal to be so involved with those whom his work affects. This blended the line between what was personal and what was strictly business operations. This was also why his corporation kicked him out initially and then brought him back as main leader again. As mentioned earlier, his more personal activities coincided with community building, which made him much more popular. It was not a political election, but people were very communicative and active in grassroots movements, making it easy for leaders like Nathaniel to ride along and put their name tag on them. So he did. Because of this, he obtained direct access to the people whence his mining operations hired and relied upon to operate without targeted government regulation due to an alignment between the local population, peasants and adventurers, and nobles who sympathized with them, among other reasons. As for why adventurers were included here, caves, dungeons, and adventurers often interconnected.

On a more nuanced note, in the local population most relevant to Nathaniel, the fatal incident was described as an accident rather than Nathaniel's fault, with the help of local government intervention. Contrastingly, outside this local population, some voices accounted Nathaniel into the blame.

In conclusion, his perspective was considerable, but it was essential for the events directly influencing the aforementioned stories moving forward.

Since the Just was a new element that would displace thousands of civilians, Nathaniel's prominence among them would help guide, align, and support the civilians to a much safer location, one requiring basic resources to thrive for several weeks at least in case the Just did something even more catastrophic, while the combatants poured into the side that led to the Just: one side for the "civs", or civilians, and another side for the fighters. But this was an oversimplification. In any case, Nathaniel needed to deploy his power in the assault.

Though, the civilians were concerned about surviving and living and would rather have the combatants aid them instead, but the adventurers were not going to abandon their whole lives now: the cognitive dissonance was strong, even if it would be much more rational to focus on recovery, considering the established power the Just held. No one knew if the Just hid even more power, but the adventurers were willing to bet that they could beat him, as the evidence that the Just was impossible to beat was weak and still requiring due process. Those who did see him could only describe it in ways that didn't really get the traumatic-inducing Just across effectively. Beating him stemmed from emotional and idealistic decision-making, but it was the balance between this and rational decision-making that entailed a healthy and thriving society. So the process behind their risky choices was right but at the wrong time. It wasn't only the wrong time. It was the only time this had happened in their lives and in history. Similar situations of devastation happened before, but this was its own monster. In conclusion, even if the process in which many of the adventurers arrived at the decision to go and beat the Just was irrational, their decision or conclusion wasn't necessarily wrong, because if they did beat the Just here, they would be right.

Meanwhile, outside, on the streets of the city, a bunch of brothers ran toward the Just, shouting excitedly.

"Huya!"

"Speed!"

"I am speed!"

"Alright!"

"Here we go!"

"Watch the moves!"

"It's too easy!"

Their hyped-up voices were well-heard by Nathaniel and his apprentices and hired guards, who were still far away from the Just.

For some reason, the brothers and Nathaniel's company were sure that they would win, because it just couldn't be a loss. It couldn't be.

If they won, they would finally be able to see the people together again, families arming themselves in times of conflict, and loneliness averted.

Nathaniel smiled. "I guess let's keep walking," he said, as he began leading the relaxing stroll.

Next to Nathaniel, his apprentices identified the nervously conversing families all around in the distance, studying their expressions and learning from them. Since they were confused and scared, they found comfort in the shared tension in the air that brought people outside in the streets in a vulnerable manner. It was like having a big group hug and trying to walk in that arrangement at the same time.

A sociable teenager, Shadrach, glanced at the two guards with him. "How about you two? Tower?" To clarify, in a discussion earlier, 7-odd minutes after the Just attacked, the guards told Nathaniel that they were heading to a certain tower at the end of the day. To provide context, Sinclair and the other apprentices noted this information enough to ask about it. Touching upon the reason behind this, children were very conscious of everything their parents said. Therefore, it was natural that teenagers, especially apprentices, would pick up everything their authority figure, Nathaniel, discussed, notably at a turbulent time like this. On a broader level, the time spent together between Nathaniel and three of the apprentices, Shadrach, Billy, and Notch, since the day after the death of these three's former boss, Maverick, meant something. Moreover, these three and the other 11 apprentices survived a fatal incident together. Through sharing the same set of challenges, they learned from each other when it came to understanding their place under Nathaniel. In spending time with him, they became more attuned to the subtleties of his speech and non-verbal language. Ultimately, they used him a frame of reference for understanding what the guards' deal was about when they were glancing attentively at him throughout his and the guards' discussion earlier.

Turning to the guards' perspective, they were broadly similar to Goldilock, being adventurers, But they were here right now in the wake of the Just's attack. They would be important moving forward, so they were naturally willing to communicate, considering the importance of this in parties. It was an service-related benefit: the ability to just get on with it and shout out crucial information. They said: "The tower is an important structure for adventurers. What are our goals?"

Nathaniel was about to answer, but Shadrach was too quick this time: "We're going home to check my parents and their parents too. Likely." As he was beginning to write, he used the more fancier word "likely" in speech, imitating his betters, to offset the perception of immaturity in saying "my parents". In short, he still behaved like a normal person his age.

Returning to the guards, one of them, Isaachar, decided to answer questions preemptively after seeing how fruitless Shadrach's input was: "The tower was an important structure because it was a very long-standing one. Been there for years. It probably has been there since I was young. Though, I do remember that my parents, who were adventurers, also agreed at a meeting that it should be named "The Tower" simply, because now they officially call it "The Bastion", which people don't really use. Only the uptight ones tended to do that." Even he was not talking about things relevant to the currently happening Just's attack, but it was useful information in the long term. "Now that that's done, let's—"

In front of the guards, Nathaniel turned around and raised his hand. "Wait, wait, let's help her." He motioned the guards to help a wounded woman lying down in an alley.

Meanwhile, looking particularly at Shadrach as a representative, Nathaniel told his apprentices to refrain from trusting the adventurers' words at face value, as he had a bad history with adventurers collectively. Prior to this, he envisioned Shadrach as the leader of the apprentices at one point when he sent him out on a study mission into a dungeon with a party of adventurers he paid to guard him. To connect the dots, it was Shadrach's proactive question to the guards that reminded Nathaniel of this early concept design for him as a laborer.

Considering Shadrach's implicit position as representative of the apprentices, his closest friends here, Notch and Billy, were confident that he would handle anything that came up. For that reason, they patiently watched him instead of asking.

Shadrach glanced at his friends. One thing he noticed was that Notch didn't have his favorite apple or any food for that matter. Consequently, he learned that Notch's allowance from Nathaniel was inactive today. Though, he wasn't sure. In reality, he was right.

Instead of initiating a serious, boring talk about the apple, Shadrach made a funny joke about Notch's armpits, considering that Notch woke up too early, too tired to trim it. It was cultural to have as little armpit hair as possible, and it was not only for girls. In fact, it was recommended for girls to keep their armpit hair long. In the meantime, men kept it short in order to make sure it didn't annoy them in battle with the friction and discomfort that came with it. However, this was an old practice that wasn't really being followed by younger folks. In essence, it was a culturally familiar joke that anyone, including Shadrach, could make and expect a positive response, whether in the form of a laugh or a playful, friendly frown.

Chapter 28: The Rise of Nathaniel and the Battle of Factions
As for Notch, he didn't care, so he ignored Shadrach. But their friendship was strong still. He was just tired and wanted to lie down. So he did and sat down on the street. He didn't want to deal with anything. This way, he could focus on processing things and not going insane, unlike Shadrach who was still in shock with everything. Usually, it would be Shadrach who was tired, because he was less athletic. Either way, Notch could relax because the two guard adventurers were still busy walking alongside civilians, whom Nathaniel was very intentional with asserting his requests to help and support in this troubling time. In the end, Notch had the best time of his life just closing his eyes and pretending that the thunderous booms in the distance were non-existent.

Shifting to the sounds he heard, he romanticized them: rain-like pellets, footsteps, and bird-like whistles, all of which were actually because of the fight against the Just rather than a peaceful, farming afternoon.

Speaking of the afternoon, the hottest time of the day, the tropical heat forced him to smile. In contrast, it made him dizzy enough to evade delving into the turbulent event, viewing it as his reward for backbreaking work. In this land, the image of a man standing in it commonly symbolized idyllic hard labor.

Incidentally, Nathaniel told him to go under the shade like everyone else, adding that he would get sick if he didn't, but Notch shook his head and told him that he would stay in the sun for a while, remarking that the sun felt good to him. Considering Nathaniel's permissive relationship with the straightforward boy, he joked that he would get stronger, referencing a folk tale where a man got stronger because of the sun.

In the background, Billy commented, "I wish I could swim..." He was implying to Nathaniel that they should go visit a river once this was all over, because he was sure that the Just was only a temporary spectacle when he heard that it didn't have underlings or structure-destroying powers. Based on what he learned from playing street games growing up, it was hard for one man to seek out hiding people in a dynamic urban environment. Rather than being in deep thought, he was rather excited and focused on reality, enjoying the wind, the smell and warm heat in the tropical, greeny street, and the relaxedly communal sight and sound of groups walking around calmly on the stone street with a similar "a temporary spectacle" perception when it came to the Just.

Anyway, Notch was at the point where he could only chortle and ironically say, implying scorn and desire toward the hypothetical moment he achieved his goals that he envisioned in the past regarding now, "I made it." Even though he was finally here at this point of time in which he admitted he was happy, he couldn't shake his disappointment, stress, and frustration with how much more he had to do in order to keep going. He wouldn't be able to pretend that he didn't have new goals. He couldn't take these goals away from himself. They were a part of him now. He would keep moving forward, but the journey to achieve the goals was daunting. He was happy, and he was much better now. But the more he knew, the more he didn't. The more he knew about adventurers, the more he didn't. The more he knew about the world, he more he didn't, as things changes and events like nothing anyone had ever seen before emerged. It was a never-ending progression toward improvement, yet he wished he could return home and play games with his friends all over again. He remembered the feeling of sitting down and waiting for his friends, but now that was all gone. He was better and smarter now. Finally, he achieved his goals. But now, he was going to have to keep going, as the world looked to be expanding right in front of him, as things that made sense only did within a framework. When reality diverged from that unpredictably, the only thing one could do was recalibrate one's perspective to align more with reality, inch by inch. He was proud of the person he had become, but he was so frail, even if, as a person, he was so much stronger than before. Only 21 days passed since Maverick, but things were so much different than before. But despite his complex feelings, his thoughts only came out as a single one-word statement every 5 seconds.

Either way, Notch was meaningless in the grand scheme of things. He didn't care about power all that much, as he only wanted to have fun and relax with friends and family, doing what he was expected to do.

In contrast, in the distance, his shadow like a giant, stretching across the street, Nathaniel was already reaching out, extending the chain link across the peoples. As for what he looked like in reality, he was striding forward and directing others, using his calm voice to persuade belligent adults who looked disgruntled with adventurers after experiencing some mistreatment in the past. However, while the two guard adventurers were listening, he emphasized the difficulty of living with adventurers and how they exploited miners' willingness to obey the law in spite of the abrasive, tyrannical adventurers. Through sowing shared distrust, he made sure to get them along into his team, saving more people as a result. A hundred people was a milestone for Nathaniel, as with his guards' help, he persuaded even adventurers, convincing them that he was willing to consider them when the fight with the Just was over, priding over his status as an industry leader. He knew where to hit them, mentioning terms like "rewards", "quests", and "spells" which were adventurer terms. So he played at their level while showing that he was capable enough to stand above them. It was obvious just from the number of people he gathered and led forth, which many adventurers and people took as enough evidence of a proper authority. He became the noble that this part of the city lacked, showing that in times like these, the noble status depended on how effectively that power was wielded and whether it was used at all. Nathaniel may not be a noble, but he was cunning and sought to pierce the confusion by asserting himself as the only person who knew how. Why? Because he didn't know anyone's thoughts. He only could control himself, so he focused on leading through action and voice rather than through begging others to lead the way. In the end, he would become a giant among men: emancipation through exceptional individuals.

With a great many people, Nathaniel led the way, his steps like footsteps of a colossus. Next to him, his apprentices, willing shadows, obeyed his gesturing hand.

Speaking of Nathaniel's gestures, they launched rapidly, as he commanded various troop-like groups, his gestures and his speech like twin snakes that acted synchronously. With his words, he tossed hundreds of packages comprised of a list of roles for every party, each with a model that attended to various nuances of the group. Instead of maintaining the family structure, he separated them and focused on cultivating a cult-like mood in order to finish up his role as a father of sheep. He would succinctly divide them. This way, they would develop like seeds, staying attached to their families but learning how to embrace the congregation of people as part of a bigger whole. He was the kind of leader that Charles had met in his communities; however, Nathaniel was even more godly in terms of position. His role above these communities and above the social structures of occupations, guilds, associations, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with what he believed to be social monoliths. However, he recognized that times were changing and he could easily fall, so he stayed close to everyday people, because society was made up of them. In times of a breakdown in societal order, they took on a more prominent and crucial role, as society was on its tippy toes, requiring delicate balance in order to transition expectations, social connections, and workflow into the new norm.

He was possessed by his capacity for patience and elaborate thought process. Given these two characteristics, he had been fostering them, being separated from his mining sites in his home all those years when he gave orders via messengers.

This was his time for complex thought.

He completely wiped out the confusion, re-creating a semi-society, amid the spots and thin lines of heat and the broad shapes of shades.

For nuances' sake, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair was the leader of the people he gathered, but many more people remain unheeded and wandering, dying to new outlaws. At the same time, his role of a "diviner" or leader was a very small part of the city chaos, as many other groups were creating their own non-traditional, partial, modified societal structures to cope with the chaos and establish a sense of place on the new situation, meaning that interests and ideals would intersect with hopes of order. This meant that new "flavors" would arise, albeit temporarily, in this degrading and extreme time.

Meanwhile, with regard to the Just, his aforementioned friends, Malkov and Junjirou, arrived.

The Just nodded and recognized them, because they were long-time friends. Instead of secretly colluding to stop the Just, Malkov and Junjirou were fine with summoning portals and bringing in goblins from another region with magical artifacts to help him.

The goblins began ambushing the adventurers fighting the Just.

One of the goblins from this portal, Aetherblade, extended his arms, as several bursts of flame coated his arms.

He looked at the obscured face of Junjirou.

As a paragon of the goblins, Aetherblade genuinely believed that human psychology was a very physical force, a very encroaching thing upon the earth, a mass of flesh almost or a shaking door lock banging against the wooden door in the wind. Every physical structure became its slave. Junjirou stood on four legs, his distraught, crumbled face an expression of desperation and the variety of emotions tearing into the surface and releasing like a swarm of locusts. A giant right arm raised from him in an L-shape and slammed against the grassy ground, a thunderous explosion rippling like cracking roots through the earth, safely intertwining a variety of overburden with the sound of scissor-shaped glass trinkling against each other in chaotic unison. He was the antithesis of death: a human being—Life in the present.

In the distance, another of the goblins under Junjirou, Shuven, fought, begging the adventurers to die, as several brothers slashed him, making gushing wounds in his body.

"Why!" he said in a young voice. "I don't get it! [Abstract Immersion!]" This spell had psychically assaulting properties. Because of this, the adventurers' perspective on the world suddenly felt askew: bigger objects appeared smaller and smaller objects appeared bigger. For others, it was even stranger. One, some of them developed a fear of shapes. Similarly, others began having delusions that they kissed one of their fellows along with the delusional fear that this kissing was a very terrifying and horrible thing. In the end, hundreds of adventurers began failing to recover again and again like a bunch of pigs trying to fly.

To elaborate a new aspect of magic, it was Shuven's concerted immersion into his past grief that allowed him to demonstrate the requisite emotions in order to cast the spell [Abstract Immersion]. As for more context of spells and magic as a system and systematic enterprise, rather than merely convincing others of emotions that one wouldn't feel if not for the circumstances, which is a subset of self-consciousness, it was allowing one's emotions to flow by stimulating their release and outpouring first, reaching mindfulness, that produced a completing bind for spell activation. This flow state was a building block of most spells. Each time a spell was released, depending on how involved the spell required the caster, the more the feeling of jumping off a cliff it would feel like for someone with acrophobia, leaving the caster usually in a state of severe psychological distress, anxiety, panic attacks, and even traumatic reactions. However, in the case of powerful casters, they often didn't need that much effort into casting, so it didn't hurt for them. This was why it was typical for casters to take care of their health, engaging in stress relief techniques like deep breathing, to allay the psychological consequences of casting challenging spells. In conclusion, a balance of wellbeing and spell-casting proficiency was essential.

Moving on to the potential reasons behind why Shuven's spell might be considered "over-powered," or excessively powerful, Junjirou and Malkov were necessary for the goblins' spells to activate, as they held the key to these spells: a significant amount of mana. As for why they chose this setup, relying on the goblins to learn complex spells for them was much faster: ten workers worked faster than one. Focusing on increasing one's mana was much more symbolic of a leader. Additionally, having all the goblins depend on the two leaders to cast their life's work, their spells, served as a deterrent against emancipation. This was a very effective tactic. However, the duumvirate structure was only partial to a full picture of why Shuven's spell might be considered over-powered.

Returning to the moment, the adventurers focused on casting their favorite devastating, singular attacks, since he was not defending himself.

As the attacks hit the goblins, Shuven was among the victims and fell to the ground, as he hugged the stone street. Meanwhile, his cheek cold against the ground, his body sustained damage, cracking softly. In response to his defeat and that of many others, several groups of goblins on Shuven's side, including Aetherblade, changed their route to the adventurers, considering that they dominated in close combat.

With the goblins' established presence, the adventurers backed off.

In the meantime, the Just started convulsing, a swarm of bats emerginsummarize the plg out of his eyes.

These bats halted the adventurers for a moment, as the Just expressed his hatred: "Let them all fall." He sounded unhinged, his face crumpled in a mix of euphoria and hate.

However, one of the adventurers made a shotcall, revealing an long-ranged ambush from the flank that they had prepared for the Just.

Instead, they redirected their aim at the goblins.

The goblins exploded, as the ground below the Just became greenish.

The ground broke open, revealing a tunnel.

From the darkness of this tunnel, the Marchacha goblins, Goldberg, and his fellow former prisoners exited, slashing the Just in pieces with a powerful magical artifact in the form of a gold-skinned man with a golden sword. Moreover, they threw exploding potions at the Just.

The Just crumbled, his life falling to dust.

Chapter 29 - The Ripple Effect of Chaos
As for why the Just crumbled, the magical artifact and the exploding potions produced a magical reaction that broke his defences immediately.

This was an interaction that had a 1 in 1000 chance of happening like finding a double yolk, and no one knew about it. Though, people knew unpredictable magical interactions could happen if magic was done in a certain way. As mentioned earlier, this was the reason why Goldberg and the late Millie warned the former class of apprentice miners to avoid casting too much magic.

The study of magic was continuously growing, and much of it was still in the unknown.

Certain magical interactions had already been established, but so many more remain unknown.

This interaction that killed the Just was one of these unknowns.

It was strong enough to bypass the many layers of defences of the Just.

The Marchacha goblins's intention in using the potions and the artifact was to disrupt the opponent's rhythm and create an opening for even more stronger attacks. Fortunately, they got lucky, similar to almost slipping off a cliff and dying at a hike.

After being hit by over a thousand spells, each a magical meeting between him and over a thousand people, the Just fell to one of the hundreds of ambushes against him.

He achieved his goal maybe: the world would reboot again.

The next day, on day 22, all around the city, many people were recovering from the aftermath: a processing era.

At the bottom of the mountain on which the city stood, at a river, Nathaniel stared at the ground, looking at the hot sun, saying: "I can go months without really taking a break, but I feel I really need it now. Though, I've said that many times, often to no avail. It's hilarious that I even try. But I really do feel shitty. When was the last time I woke up and felt that I was going to be able to make sense of things in a single day? I have no clue. I feel like I've convincing myself of all of this. What do you guys think?"

"Yeah, I don't know," said Billy, staring at the river.

"Yeah, I figured."

"Why are we here?" said Notch, alternating between biting an apple and a banana.

"I don't know... as well," said Nathaniel.

"Seriously. Why are we here at the river?"

"Billy's choice. He wanted it."

"I mean, why are we taking a stop?"

"A 'break'?"

"Yeah. That."

Nathaniel smirked with loss. "I haven't really thought about things, and I need you all to sit down before anything stupid happens again. This entire world is stupid. We're probably being written here by some piece of crap. I don't know, people. This sounds a bit fishy—"

When the boys and women around him began to share a suspicious, concerned look with regard to his fatigue and disillusionment, he burst into a guffaw, his laugh resonating for a good while before closing down gradually. It was like the call of a bird soaring above. Soon enough, it would disappear as well.

"I can't do this anymore guys," said Shadrach in a calm manner, staring at his notepad. He was trying to look through his notes, but many of them got wet and smudged. "This is really not great. I forgot what I was supposed to be remembering." He was talking about his notes, which included his time at the dungeon and the names of the 47 friends, 20 contacts, and 15 enemies that his former class of apprentice miners made during a networking session. "I guess those notes are gone."

Those memories were gone, left to the imagination, and so were those people, gone, drifting by along with the river in front of them maybe. What was before 22 days ago before they met Maverick but a dream now?

They questioned if they really existed 23 days ago and if Maverick was sent by God to give them new life.

They questioned if 4 days ago was a dream, if 10 days ago was a dream, and if 15 days ago was a dream.

It could have never happened, as so many things had changed since then.

The only reason they felt so strongly about recent days and felt like anything before 22 days ago was a dream was because of how many traumatic events they experienced recently. This gave the feeling that they were not at all a human being that lasted for as long as they lived each.

Trauma could make someone become a dog, so they asked a question similar to "What is a dog?" as a way to reflect upon their own lives individually.

The questioned if their existences could be verified externally and wondered if they were only lying to themselves about everything. If everything could change and be taken away from them so suddenly in the form of sudden, traumatic events, then did they really exist? It was a broad question that they broke down to smaller parts, causing them to reflect upon their memories.

But it was too much to process everything, so they picked up a short scene from the past and returned to reality. But the degree in which they remembered varied; the degree in which they reflected varied.

Processing their life through externalizing them was not something they could do today. Maybe, they would never fully embrace this.

In the end, they were human beings in a magical world, their faces tinged with grief and confusion. It was not physical grief: it was a smile, a skip, a dance, a pointing at the river, a clap, a guffaw, a painting, a note, a speech, a long talk, a walk, and a conversation, among others.

It was so exciting to see humans, carriers of so much worth and humanity, be toppled down. The highest satisfaction that one could get from defeating an enemy was by seeing their worth and humanity. Then, it was here that each fallen ally and enemy lived a full life, not numbers on a paper or a bunch of descriptors. They existed, and each of them strived to become fully themselves and yet obedient to the society in which they tend to themselves and those within their community. For a long time, people did as they pleased, but a certain few promised to break out of societal borders and cast their hand upon the throne of being a human being, whatever it meant.

In conclusion, despite the nostalgic moments of the past, anything and everything had improved for the better, even if it incurred loss and grief. The only thing one had to do was keep moving forward, as even the act of this was enough for a sense of improvement, even if this very improvement was only in the struggle of the mind.

Their struggle was worth seeing because they were human, not because they were representations of humanity, but because they could not be understood, for humanity and the world could never be understood completely as much as the oceans remained to be uncovered. Thus, they could only keep going, even if humiliation and helplessness barelled their way.

Their aim was "Keep moving forward."

In spite of and because of everything that happened, Nathaniel and the apprentice miners shared smiles and friendly, humorous, and serious conversations, those of all kinds. It was here that they were one individually—a community.

Rather than Nathaniel being the sole force, the groundwork, the mini-society, he laid involving hundreds of people was re-integrated into the broader social community that included a variety of similar mini-societies. Due to how much was disrupted, many community repair projects was pending and ongoing as part of broader stimulus efforts by the government, which accompanied the liquidity injection to prevent deflation, which depressed demand and economic activity. This made it easier for Nathaniel to return to his personal life, abandoning his mini-society influence in favor of re-integration with societal structures back to their places albeit in addition to reforms in education, security sectors, and governance structures. This was the learning, self-stabilizing process of society. Since the mass massacre of the Just merely validated the need for adventurers, the adventurers focused on restoration, re-integrating pariah adventurers, which comprised both former adventurers and current ones, as postcrisis volunteers. This concerted recession and recovery was possible because the government was keeping their hands off them to encourage spending and investment, aligning with their community projects.

However, instead of a purely inclusive structure, the adventurers still retained some of their exclusivity and barred certain leaders, both former and current, from re-entering, marking a new social order with new canditates to fill the chairs.

In the end, thousands of adventurers all across the land were going to experience a change in their makeup, as they would have the navigate on which the Just had painted.

As for the Marchacha goblins who "hit the last blow on the Just," they were sidelined initially, but their actions soon became a talking point among the people of the city, creating uncertainty about their exact role in the Just's demise.

Meanwhile, Malkov and Junjirou, the Just's last friends, stared at the distance, seeing a vision of the Just: he smirked, fading into obscurity. Tears dripped, as Malkov and Junjirou chuckled, their fists hardening. "You shouldn't have played God, but you lost all the same." As for the reason he used "but" here, it was to emphasize how futile the Just's attempt all was. Finally, they meditated on the consequences of overstepping boundaries and attempting to control outcomes beyond one's grasp: breaking out of societal form.

But the Just's offensive was more than just a simple rebellious act: this was the death of over a thousand adventurers, many of which were the strongest in their units and each a carrier of the shared experiences of numerous communities, tens of group friendship dynamics, and over a thousand of individual friends. These experiences were shattered, leaving a myriad of voids; this close-knit society was damaged as in a punch between giants.

In the meantime, Nathaniel oversaw the recovery of 1,000 people thanks to two critical factors. First, his influence with hundreds of people in his local community, established before the Just's attack, stemmed from his role as an community ambassador leveraging his role as an industry leader. Second, following the attack, he reacquired influence and authority among the hundreds of people from the mini-society that he established during the Just's attack, which he had initially relinquished over to the government. This plot introduced a layer of postcrisis tension between Nathaniel and the weakened officials on top of the precrisis tensions between him as a mining industry leader and the officials who sidetracked his and relevant stakeholders' mining advocacy. Despite the tensions, the officials agreed to transition away from adventurers and toward the other sectors. For context, dungeons were at a low enough depth that the currently weakened adventurer sector would find it hopeless to challenge the monsters there. In conclusion, the government would pay more attention to the industry to which belonged Nathaniel, leaving him as among the winners in the post-attack period.

Incidentally, a significant portion of women were being encouraged temporarily into traditionally male roles in order to compensate for the loss of 15 percent of the population. Coincidentally, the late Millie could have been a good role model for one of them, but this was a sentimental possibility. Speaking of female role models, Priscilla, Goldberg's partner, was one of them.

Anyway, to sum up, the Just's attack damaged society, but it also revealed its underlying structural definitions.

Regarding a second party in the recovery phrase of the city, in the meantime, Malkov heard a triumphalist orchestra that only he could hear, while Junjirou saw a game-like interface that showed his stats, the shifting population number of the city, and the dynamic density map of the various conversations of the city.

To elaborate why Malkov and Junjirou joined the Just, Malkov had an ability that allowed him to hear music in the background that only he could hear. This music followed his circumstances and even allowed him to know the future, as the music would sound ominous when danger was approaching. As for the relation between this music ability and the Just, he first doubted the practicality of attacking a city headon for no reason. However, because he was feeling a strong sense of pride after a successful hunt, which his music ability aggravated, he decided to join the Just. As for Junjirou, he treated the world like a game before he got his game interface ability, and this ability only exacerbated this perception. In conclusion, both Malkov and Junjirou were motivated primarily by perceptions and emotions when they helped the Just who was actually their friend Yesami.

Instead of pondering the ethical nature of their decisions, they relied on their upbringing of playing street games in order to make decisions, seeing the complexity of decisions within the framework of the great variety of games they played. This was limited, but it was also their lifetimes.

But who cared? Why would it be anyone's business if they were going to be considered "unethical"? They were merely people who made it that everything that they did was within the realm of their everything: they weren't satisfied with things. But it wasn't satisfaction that they sought. It was to be a king and legend. It was to fight and war against the gods of this world. They were tired of playing lies, and they would ensure that anyone who crossed their path knew who they were.

But Yesami was dead, so they would press on. But they were frustrated enough to want to distract themselves. Since the adventurers didn't see their faces because they were wearing masks during the Just's attack, they decided to join the city. In conclusion, they would check things out in the city, blend among the cityfolk, and keep an eye for anything interesting or thrilling.

No, it was not good enough. They eased their growing discontent that grew with their processing of Yesami's death by staring at their hands and seeing the world that their hands offered: violence, pride, victory, and a big world that harkened to their call. They were vulnerable; their childhoods were now

Malkov looked at a log, imagining it to be Yesami. He wanted to accuse Yesami of making him feel vulnerable. He wanted to sit down and stare at the ground. He wanted to kick it hard.

He wanted, but he couldn't act out anything. He was stuck in a body that didn't address what he wanted to say. His body was just that strong—too strong even for his mind to take it on as a vessel.

He wanted to cry, but he couldn't admit that because even if he did, what would be the point of it? He had not cried for years. Why would he cry now? He tried so many times before, yet he was just that great and awesome. He was so awesome he couldn't even cry.

He was so honest-to-God great. He was the greatest thing this world had ever seen.

He was amazing and possibly all-powerful in a way because he committed to his goals and did everything he could. He was a fighter and a warrior.

That was how awesome he was. He smiled.

It was that awesomeness where sqeezing out a tear was impossible.

It was just impossible, and nothing was going to change that.

He couldn't even fall to his knees.

He was too powerful (for his mind to bear). This was how he would do as he willed, which not a single person in this God-damned world would know or understand.

Delving into a more formal and academic level, coupled with the right portrayal, concomitant emphasis could predicate on four pitfalls: concision bias, the lack of comprehensive data, hasty generalizations, and a desire to confirm established beliefs while engaging in critical thinking only toward opponents, among other more nuanced shortcomings. Moreover, this confirmation bias could present itself as "commonly known facts": potentially a manifestation of misinformation-related false consensus. Under the aforementioned conditions, anyone could be "evil." Nonetheless, people could spend so much time gathering information, synthesizing them, and applying them. Even so, research and official, buzz, and folk information, among numerous other context-dependent sources, was limited. With that said, occupying a sweet spot independent from these was the reason why players formed academic communities. As for the primary goal of these partially independent entities, healthy competition took various forms such as debates, conferences, peer-reviewed publications, and collaborative projects. Ultimately, Malkov was a carrier of the labels "heinous monster" and "bestie," depending on whom you asked.

Chapter 30 - The Weight of Existence
Returning to Malkov, he was justified in releasing his great wish: to slay the arrogant and invincible who would squeal as soon as they gazed upon their unwanted banal death, the kind fatalistically accepted by those facing extreme poverty and oppression.

However, he was less than the broad wishes that many shared and much more inevitably individual and complex. In other words, his grand wish was a mere utterance; in reality, it was not even a facet of him, as he had lots of temporary space for sand that would drift away in the next wave.

The next day, on day 23, Catherine Orlov Sinclair stared at her husband, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, who looked ashamed of himself, saying: "Why not be a father and a husband right here and now? Who cares about the truth?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry for not being here... and working overtime."

"Yeah, that's not overtime, is it? That's you now. You could have chosen not to do it. Yet, you did it. You see what I'm saying?"

"Yeah. I apologize."

"Why are you being so apologetic, all of a sudden? Talk to me." She sounded threatening.

Nathaniel smiled weakly. "I don't know. I haven't really told you, but we went to—"

"Enough of that. Tell me what you're apologizing for?"

"I wasn't able to correct myself, you know. Just last week, I was... where was I? I was handling the gates, and two days ago, all that. I hadn't really prepared, so I'm sorry. I know you're mad about even before the attack, and I wasn't really making time for you."

"Yeah, you weren't. It's a good thing I'm telling you here and now. Please don't let me remind you again."

"Yeah, but I'm going to forget to make time and stop extending myself too much and then having to go ahead with the plan anyway even when I should be here with you and the kids."

Simultaneously, Catherine said, knowing what he was going to say just by the first few words, "Yes, you are."

"Thanks, Catherine."

"Ha, 'thank you'," she mocked lightly. "Don't... pretend, okay?"

"I won't."

"But don't go off the rails either, heh."

"Yeah, thank you... thank you."

Catherine took on a smile and patted Leroy on the shoulder, shifting to a playful yet overtly disapproving smirk.

With Catherine's conclusion, Leroy decided to head to the other room, attending to his kids with a playful, exuberant attitude.

Catherine sat near the door, mindfully side-eying him through the doorway. She already spent time with the kids, and she was contemplating on how best to handle finances, the kids' education, her contacts, her participation in certain events as a speaker, and her connections by promoting their wellbeing, among other various, more specific activities. It was a silent, non-calculative, and relaxed form of dealing with a broad range of challenges as a mother in her capacity. Indeed, she was a "people person," but she preferred her alone time overall. This was why she was in a room separate from the kids and Leroy at the moment.

Despite her strong political reign, she lived on the ground in a human capacity, considering her simple, collectivist role.

Thinking about Leroy, she laughed.

Before this, Leroy made a joke, so he then thought that Catherine laughed alongside their kids. But she was just laughing at the thought of him.

Even if they were happy, they grew up in a world that both recognized a level of fatalism but saw, through magic, greatness beyond the acceptance of banality as a part of a good life. This was their struggle.

In the end, they would get over it. It was nothing too complicated. A concern about life and all came about often, but it was not anything too disruptive. Merely, it was a part of their good life.

Shifting to a broader level, society was ever-stable.

Revisiting Charles Finch, he was a part of a nightly defence against monsters. Since his boss John Roger was busy with attending an recovery-directed official session, he and his fellow proxy adventurers was naturally funnelled into the adventurers' peripheral activities to stay low while securing the "Adventurer" badge, which the adventurer guilds would employ later in transitioning to stable operations. Though, Charles was separate from his fellow proxies and accompanied strangers operating loosely around an adventurer sector.

For the official reason behind the defence, 2 days ago, peripheral barriers were temporary relinquished to help the fringe residents, the farmers, evacuate during the Just's urban attack, so monsters breached through the barriers during this time. Right now, they had to emphasize a quick conclusion. As for the reason of this, the city farmers had to resume farming where they lived at the periphery within the borders. This was critical because it was the latter of two harvest months, and each day increased the likelihood of post-harvest losses.

Nearby, an argument broke out.

"I desperately despise people like you," said a world-weary adventurer, Evernight. "Naive and overly-kind. 'Wanting to make the world a better place'?" He cackled like a monster after years of being treated that way just for expressing his long-suppressed emotions. "I don't get it. You seriously haven't gone through anything, have you? Have you seen what it's like out there? Have you travelled? Met people? You idiot." Moreover, his voice was calm as if he was stating facts rather than venting.

The adventurer he was speaking to, Saddest, stared at him looked anxious for a moment before he furrowed his brows in determination, saying, "I didn't say anything."

Simultaneously, Evernight chuckled. "No, no, you just don't get it, do you? If you keep speaking like that, you're going to get hurt, okay? And realize that all you're doing is nothing."

Saddest smiled weakly. "I know what's that like." But he never stopped believing in people to his benefit and to his detriment. In this hectic world, he kept going, knowing that he could die later or tomorrow. But when he saw a person, he couldn't help but feel that that person mattered, especially in a world as callous as this.

Evernight chuckled again and smirked dismissively. "You're not realistic."

Saddest stared in silence, but his gaze was firm.

Simultaneously, Evernight thought that he had finally broke Saddest's naive, overly-kind pride, deepening his smirk. "Just saying."

Saddest's sense of confidence deepened, as he loved people so much that being challenged by them was like a warm hug. He gloated in his helplessness and humiliation, because his internal self-confidence was so strong that he wanted to make Evernight a friend just for disagreeing with him. Despite feeling hurt enough that his eyes became wet, it was as if he knew that this would make what he considered his "arrogance" stronger, not out of insecurity but because Evernight confirmed his beliefs in a way: that people were beautiful.

Because of this great sense of beauty, naturally, a deep, endless frustration and motivation hid behind his lips: he would destroy the callousness that killed thousands of people with a violent hand: whatever it took to convince people that beauty existed and people mattered. If communicating with them through conversations, living alongside them as friends, art, music, dancing, singing, and swordplay, among many other modals, was insufficient, his last resort would be to stab them and pray that the fifty-fifty chance of them realizing Beauty (good empathy and a great sense of beauty) for the first time on their deathbed succeeded.

Before he left, he briefly sang a funny and singsongy voice to diffuse the tension, especially with the other adventurers standing within earshot.

When he was finally alone, his helplessness and humiliation soon led to tears. Moments later, he made a taut, toothy smile and laughed to cope, reflecting a deep guilt from past complex circumstances.

His guilt made him say, "I will become the epitome of grace and beauty."

So he did. After wiping his tears a little, moist-eyed, he went out and prepared with rest of the adventurers against the coming monsters, conversing with other adventurers with a friendly, approachable personality, as he moved nimbly and athletically.

He knew who he was, and he would not pretend any longer, gnashing his teeth in victory.

Yet, he wanted to hear himself finally admit it, but he didn't even have the energy to be angry at himself anymore.

He was tired.

He said: "Are we a bad person, yes or no?"

To answer that question, he had to keep going and assessing himself, even if it might be a Sisyphean task.

Meanwhile, Evernight looked at the monsters and thought briefly that the image of the blades of the monsters against his throat looked hella comfy today, reflecting what he called a "real" perspective. The sounds of the environment mixed combined with the image hit really hard. He could feel that terrible feeling of the painful realization: that what you were doing was all for nothing. A never ending massacre... just like the point of the phrase: "And realize all you're doing is nothing."

He, when he was younger, would never comprehend or relate to things like this, but now he was starting to. Peoples' lives were just an endless loop of meaningless. And even if it concluded to having little pieces of joy, he still felt like his life was truly missing something.

Shifting to the overall level, if only people spoke beyond their words, maybe wars wouldn't happen. Now, they were a house divided against itself.

Speaking of division, especially in the war, Charles Finch only spared Evernight and Saddest a glance, preoccupied with his own concerns, seeing them as mere bystanders in a world full of pretenses. This was why he enjoyed the scenery, because every bit of that stone, in itself, formed a world. Importantly, he was exhausted and stressed from the war, so he might think bad things. In conclusion, he was in a state of disarray, relying on his instincts to move along, sleepy, tired, and anxious, his heart beating like a drum operated by a monkey.

His mind was empty, but the complex of niches in which he filled alone, unbeknownst to him, was more than enough. In fact, it was ten thousand years.

Seconds later, he noticed Evernight saving Saddest with a shot call. This was after Saddest went too far in past monster ranks as an initiator without waiting for the other adventurers.

Because they shared a hatred for monsters, in the midst of “Its so over,” they found within themselves an indomitable “We’re so back.”

Meanwhile, Charles was in the middle of deep thought, finding the backdrop of the monsters a convenient way to feel alone.

He couldn't pretend anymore. Soon enough, he had to face reality. Soon enough, he had to recognize that this world was so big and that he couldn't comprehend anything. Things were too elusive, ever-changing, ever-dynamic. It was a senseless place to be alive, present in every moment, whether in imagination, in a dream, in a story, in his real-life experiences. He felt a weathering sense that he was being eroded slowly as time went on, not disappearing, just in an ever-continuous state of being eroded. He would never die, and when he did physically, he would live on still, being eroded for eternity. Whether this erosion was the refining of himself similar to that of a metal or the death of his humanity-history, he didn't know. He sat down patiently, and he should probably have felt afraid, afraid of reality, afraid of his own deep humanity. He was afraid that everything that he knew didn't exist the way he saw them. Maybe, his perspective was like that of a illusionist's victim, able to comprehend enough to live but not really comprehending. He didn't want to downplay magical illusions, but that's the best way to describe what he felt when he looked at objects and all the memories they possessed or that he ascribed upon them. He did or did not feel. He was there. He was emotive, human, and real. He was a soul, a person, and history. "Whoever saves one life saves the world entire."

He wondered how many "worlds" he had abandoned throughout the years. How many worlds had he failed to save? How many worlds had he failed to document and record? How many worlds had he failed to synthesize into his current dynamic self? How many worlds had he looked at (experienced) and lost?

How many lives...

He sat down there, and he felt utterly devastated: not depressed or devastated emotionally. But he felt a heavy weight that he could bear, which, in contrast, he felt that he shouldn't be able to bear. He asked himself when he didn't feel terrified: "Shouldn't I feel afraid?" Wasn't it terrifying? So why wasn't he afraid? Was he numb? Was he unfeeling or cold like a monster? Was he even there?

He should have been crying right then, but he sat down there writing with clarity in his wording. It was utterly devastating, yet he was calm. But he recognized the weight of all of this humanity-history.

It was present, and it existed. Yet, he felt fine, reflecting on memories of the past and able to smile and feel okay. He remembered too many things, and he couldn't pretend not to remember so many things. He didn't always write them down, and he should have been writing down his day-to-day life. But he needed to focus and do other things as well. He could only extend so much energy into writing in a short period of time. He needed to rest and recover as well, so he refrained from writing and did other things, which was more healthy. But he was left there to feel regret.

The past was heavy, yet he was calm. He felt utterly calm, as if he had seen a million worlds, yet he felt calm, even knowing and reflecting. He didn't remember everything at the moment, but as time passed, he would record and document and reflect. He didn't think he could pretend anymore. He was ever-systematic in his documentation and autobiographical and diaristic journaling. It was very, very long: a long journey full of sorrows and joys. He was utterly devastated, yet he was relatively calm emotionally. He had nothing to say but all of this. This was an entire world of expression; all of it was.

What did he feel? If he could identify what he felt, had he already lost? Because reality was ever-changing. So any definition came with generalization already. It was impossible to assign definition that considered all the subjective interpretations in order to form a more objective understanding of something, such as what he felt at the moment. It was unidentifiable, unassignable, and unable to be considered. It was outside of his reach yet inside his heart: this emotion was ever-present, yet he could shift his focus toward other things. He was ever-human, ever-consistent, ever-present, yet he was utterly incapable of being defined to a perfectly precise amount. He was utterly void of distinction because the factors for the distinctions that could have been assigned upon him were ever-elusive and unbearably quick so as to be non-existence in his identifying naked eye. He was, but he was not.

In his mind, ten hundred people walked around. Each of them lived in an abstract imagination in this head. What did they do? Who did they work for? Why did the "work" need to be assigned upon them? Why did he focus on whom they might work for? Did he believe that work was essential for a human, especially that part of ten hundred people, if this group was one cohesive whole rather than a numbered size of individuals? Was he utterly defiant toward their individuality so as to ask them what their work was and what do they do? What if he didn't say anything? What if he observed reality and recorded his own findings? What if he asked questions that he thought were common and open-ended enough to get significantly differing answers so as to distinguish between individuals? Either way, he was utterly void of distinction, and so were these individuals who lived in an abstract imagination. But how could he be satisfied with that? Wasn't distinction the only difference between us and non-existence? Then, if the distinction of existence and non-existence was present, was that solely enough? Then, any other distinction that wasn't perfectly precise was more of a subjective interpretation rather than a collection of every subjective interpretation so as to form an observable, objective whole. But was that really the case? It made sense or rational, but all of this could just be him: a world where he existed alone. Every world that he created was merely an extension of him. But what of communication, the shared link between individuals and complexes of worlds? Wasn't that not only an extension of himself but a shared link between multiple individuals and complexes of worlds? Yet, he demanded almost an aloneness in this distinction-making, even if communication did show that sharing this distinction-making was possible and a non-alone act.

He was utterly void still of distinction. However, if existence and non-existence were a (binary) distinction and the only one, then he was in existence, and this was solely necessary in the demand for distinction.

Did he deal with loss this way? But to boil it down and distill it to that felt completely unwarranted. But as that was likely one of the factors, he moved forward, knowing this.

Was there an answer to this complexity of emotions and concerns?

Was this how he dealt with the idea of everything he knew, everyone he knew, everything he experienced falling away and disappearing into non-existence and even he, the beholder of all of these and the one that stored all of these memories and experiences, would pop out of existence?

Chapter 31 - The Masks We Wear: Charles and Goldberg's Inner Battles

Author's Note

I apologize for missing a day to upload. To make up for it, two ## Chapters will be released now. The schedule will also now by 8 AM EST. I appreciate your understanding.


When the other adventurers began raising morale by cheering before a second round of fighting with the monsters, Charles wanted to leap in joy. This was because he found out just how important he was again, having suppressed himself in the face of his noble boss, John Roger. This was especially significant since he had magically reverted to a younger man, much younger than his boss, from that of an older man. Here, the blend between the submissive younger man in the face of an older authority figure and the weakened, listless older man led to his suppression. Though, when he was an older man, he was just glad to be alive still, maybe lacking in that ambition, but he was happy to be here on this world.

Though, elders were respected due to a prevailing culture of filial piety and intergenerational support. However, in his uncommon case, he had lost connection with his support network full of a large variety of communities and his friends within them, his only siblings had passed away, and his late parents had not been the greatest people.

Today, he would displace his frustrations upon the monsters, knowing full well that he was only indirectly dealing with the issue of a lack of agency and power.

At the moment, several event organization coordinators finally got a response from Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair after they contacted him 20 days since. This was relatively fast considering the distance.

From the perspective of a friend of one of the event organizers, Ariella, she was more physically present than her organizers. In contrast, her title was that of "Sister." Like "Brother," it was a simple title for those active in the church network.

Based on the combined knowledge of the organizers, they belonged to a denomination of local churches from a large variety of districts all around the region, and their concerns encompassed the management of events with respect to the various participants from all around the districts, ensuring constant connection through magical long-distance forms of communication such as "clairvoyance", which pushed a mage's senses to another irrespective of distance, and in-person general assemblies.

Often, events became hubs of communication as well as lengthy discussion that lasted from 10 AM in the morning up to 9 PM. This carried the expectation for attendees to stay for multiple days around the venue city or, on the other hand, travel long distances early in the morning through portals, flying rides, and other forms of travel. Though, any magic-powered conveniences, such as portals, and amenities, like antiemetics that alleviated acute portal nausea, was frequently situated on the higher end of the price spectrum, certainly not for the budget-conscious.

In the end, the aforementioned concerns were basic knowledge to them. More broadly, their challenges covered regularly visiting local churches all around for local church events as a speaker and contacting representatives from these churches and pooling information between them to preserve and foster ongoing liaison between regional and more narrowly focused district council representatives and local churches, or, due to their strong and collaborative relationship, stakeholders. This was harder than it looked because, geographically, the region was a mess. It was not full of straight, even highways. Rather, it was a literal rainforest, also frequently involving a walk through the urban jungle to arrive at a church.

Incidentally, as part of a broader departure of magical behavior and category of thought from ecologism or the "focusing on taking care of the plants" magic toward utilitarian essentialism, anthropogenic activity, such as selective tree cutting, was increasing, disrupting the natural habitats of flora and fauna in the rainforest.

Anyway, at the moment, Ariella was pondering her rationale and the reason for why she was doing any of what she was doing and working so hard. Seeing the city from a high place, she felt a strong sense of purpose, as she could feel the weight of her accomplishments start to bark at her behind her back and all around her.

Transitioning to a vivid and metaphorical level, with everything that had been going on, she could slowly sink her energy into remembering the past, each ounce of her heart being placed into the duty of massacring completely the sense that she was powerless and weak. The momentary pauses in her breath, each a determined thought that could pass through her lips into the open air in the incarnation of segments of a monologue, danced throughout the tips of her tongue, as if waiting for everything's breath to come about. Sunshine or death, the morning rose, breathing life upon the earth and calling upon her name, seeking out her presence and tending tenderly to her needs and functions. She was a robot. Sunshine or death, the morning called her name, tenderly placing her on its lap and guiding her toward strictly placed regimented waters wherein she was at peace. This order and the chaos implied in the word "waters" kept her afloat mentally until she overcame her grief.

She waged a war upon the earth, her endless reign amounting ultimately to little, as this reign transitioned into the weakness of her flesh and the tiresomeness of her bones. She longed, but she was completely unfounded in her reasoning that she was alive, well, and even free to impart her impact unto the world.

She sundered the weapon. She bifurcated the seams of her being, the flesh like ridded wet, spoiled rags, each ounce of her becoming the epitome of glory (beauty and the flesh), dancing upon this earth, weaving her glory upon this earth. She was the weapon of the heavens, her glory reigning mightily upon this earth. But that was merely an expression, for she was an infidel, a broken, tired girl singing the song of a woman. "Let them all fall" was her saying. Let them all fall.

The bifurcation of her being was a branching out of the beauty inherent in her being. This nature of hers was merely an abstraction, as she, who was non-abstract and realistic, was ever-growing and evolving, turning, tearing, searing, singing, dancing, loathing, breathing heavily and deeply, flesh-gripping, sun-embracing, love-toiling, and great. She was the epitome of grace upon this earth!

Waiting outside, she watched herself, asking herself: "Where are you, Ari? Where are you?" Her voice was weak in tone and weight, but it was strong mentally. From her voice came the greatness of man. She was the epitome of grace, and they shall all find out that they are too. It was grace that graced them all in between the weaknesses and simultaneously sundering into the flesh, imprinting onto dry bone—ever and ever more.

It was with grace that she was. It was with grace that she was freedom. It was with grace that she would forever swathe this earth with her glory. It was with grace that... she was heavenly touch. Being of all nature. Being of all queens. Sunshine or death, she was come.

Returning to reality, she held back her sense of greatness, as she now had to act rationally. But both of these characteristics were facets of her. If she wasn't so self-aware, she would lose her position and become a trembling beggar, writhing, crying out loud without shame.

In the end, she wasn't one to waste her time barking, as she was here with a goal, and any part of herself needed to line up wherever they could, because she was going to make things work and keep them working. If anyone stopped her, they would be facing a woman.

Maybe, she was assembled differently as a woman, but it was just that simple: that was reality, and she had to make the most out of it. Whoever had anything to say, they were going to say it not to anyone else but her. Her conditions for criticism included the statement: "Not an open letter, not an indirect message out there for people to see, not gossip behind doors, but if anyone wanted to say anything, I'd like to see hands and feet outside in front of me in person. It would be funny seeing you try." Because if she was going to get hit, she wanted to show the world how hard it was to keep going even after the initial hits. Maybe, on her third try, those critics would get the come-around. Like most people who spoke publicly, she said the hard truths. When she did, people cried wolf.

Indeed, she was a "wolfess."

Noticing her sense of significance flaring up again, she went down to ground level on the streets to stamp it.

Next to her, Goldberg looked around, feeling the weight of his hands, as he strolled along the road, his back a mountain, his arms curving like a serpent-entwined rod, a weight of rage embued through his movements. Growing up, he was called a monster. Being born a big, male baby, this trend of masculinity continued onward despite his kind, simple, and shy personality partially stemming from a non-confrontational, avoidant mother. As a result of this trend, others began addressing and treating him as they would with regard to a man beset by a male-dominated adventurer culture, pigeonholing him into the controversial identity and role of a monster-beset man. Moreover, because of the dismissive culture toward adventurers by certain groups, especially women, he began to fulfill the prophesy that they told of men, such as him: in terms of demeanor, he became an example of the "predator man" stereotype. In the end, his rage became a helplessly accepting toothy grin. This visually represented a strong confidence that unconsiously, strongly hid a history of cognitive dissonance between a kind, simple, and shy boy and the predator man.

Shifting to a broader future, he would become the monster they thought he was, and he would fulfill the duty they had thrusted upon him, because he was just an normal man. Second, he was nothing, reduced to mere gossip fodder with respect to how horrible predator men were. Lastly, he would hide his emotions, and he would die never expressing himself because he was fodder, only perfoming what he was expected to do and be, his humanity devastasted, internalizing the hatred toward predator men, like him.

Transitioning to his more personal anger, the possibility of having his individiuality unpotentiated made him want to express himself. In the past, he would cry, but because his trauma-related neurotic concerns were dismissed and even relished by those who hated predator men, he now expressed himself the way he had been taught: violent, predatory rage. Now, he was the expected predator man, and he would enact his "great kindness" upon them, pressing them to continue onward and make a decision. He would because he wanted, and he would seize them by the throat and crush them, embracing them with his love as their blood drooled down his shoulders and back. This was his innate name.

When he wanted to help others by talking to them softly in the past, he now expressed himself through violent fantasies and doing his job as a predator man, an adventurer specifically.

He wasn't even sure if his violence was a mere act or who he truly was, but he never really truly processed his past, having used adventuring as a way to explore himself even if he preferred living a simple life at one point. Now, he was ambitious because that was what the predator man was supposed to be. This cause-effect didn't happen linearly, as it was a dynamic history of ups and downs and back-and-forth progression, full of identity formation and reflective day-to-day living. If he wanted to stop truly, he would give up all the energy and resources he had spent toward conforming, and this was who he was now. In the end, he was nothing, and his life was so full. Yet, his life was now rendered to be a role: the adventurer one saw down the street like every other adventurer. Instead of reflecting and focusing on exploring himself and his personal goals and desires, he conformed, leaving him as a personally unfulfilled married man in his forties. This was why he was so individualistic in terms of ideals yet also herbivory in the domain of assertiveness.

In short, the conformity to the adventurer archetype, instead of exploring personal goals and desires, left him personally unfulfilled.

Yet, in a way, he didn't necessarily hate adventuring: he loved it and found a home there, coming back to it not only because it was a job but because he felt at ease returning to it subsequent to each break. Still, he felt dehumanized as an adventurer and wished to enact his more individualistic ideals. In conclusion, it was a love-hate relationship, one so fun that he was addicted yet so bad that he criticized it at every turn.

(End of the First Arc)

Chapter 32 - A New Beginnning
To start, a young man watched several dogs walking around. He saw Billy, Notch, and Shadrach walking around in the lower-income neighborhoods. They looked like the rest of the thousands of people currently walking around the city. Even in this giant monolith of a city, the cracks representing the diverse groups thrived, prospered, and bloomed.

Elsewhere, several killers hiding among the populace walked around, observing Goldberg as he accepted several different ritualistic attachments upon his skin in order to enchant himself. This was somewhat in the middle of the city with crowds forming. Even now, he caught attention, having been the glory-hog that officials and adventurers used to avoid having to credit the Marchacha goblins and the other prisoners. In conclusion, Goldberg became a hero of the city. Incidentally, his children Nash and Leia were eating food nearby, talking excitedly about adventuring, mages, and magic.

In another place, hundreds of wild dogs belonging to more complex social structures roamed around, sighting the hundreds of beasts of labor belonging to the Marchacha goblins. With help from some of the city council members, they were able to buy fodder from a premium exclusive noble-oriented marketplace.

Meanwhile, a bird sighted the forms of a team of John Roger's proxy adventurers. They stood in two separate lines, flanking Charles Finch as he entered the cave toward a dungeon core. As for Mary, Elizabeth, Sarah, they were busy helping out with city recovery efforts, representing John Roger with his color theme, banners, and various official symbols. When it came to James Boulevard, he was helping out in keeping an eye out for John Roger's laborers, but he also led them, being a favorite of John.

In many different places, numerous people rushed to get food supplied by Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, having seen his inviting makeshift signs at the entrance of several churches. In the vicinity of these churches, Saddest, Evernight, and other adventurer parties were helping hand out food, keeping the peace. Moreover, he was in collaboration with several event coordinators. Several adjutants of his were assigned to assist these coordinators with their concerns about the Marchacha goblins, who had just left.

Simultaneously, a dispersion of rats poured into the noble estates of the city, passing through villages, manors, farmland, rainforests, large areas of land, a nearby lake, and other buildings and infrastructure. They once sighted John Roger standing at the top edges of his fort, who made plans to return to operations after the Just. He was just as slow as the other nobles, all of whom had focused on making sure that all their operations were done to refocus efforts toward protecting and removing their resources in case the Just did succeed.

Far away, a group of lumberjacks re-entered the residential areas of the city, having been late to learn of the Just's attack. They saw Billy, Notch, and Shadrach's fellow apprentice miners in the vicinity of their homes. To clarify, these miners included Ethan, Sophia, Noah, Liam, Alexander, Oliver, Ava, Jackson, Benjamin, and Nathan.

Furthermore, various groups in power, which included Priscilla and Catherine Orlov Sinclair and other people like them, were taking part in helping out with recovery efforts, keeping tabs on as much people as possible, especially regarding pensions for the elderly and disabled poor. Indeed, as the spouse of a mining industry leader, despite the tensions between her husband and the John Roger adventurer-favoring side of the aristocracy, Catherine contributed in small part to relaxing the caps and eligibility requirements of these pensions.

Beyond the horizon of the city, several hunters and other workers keeping an eye out around the city as per usual, especially post-crisis, sighted Malkov and Junjirou, both of whom disappeared through a portal. These two had confirmed that they already were done with everything here.

In addition, with the skills she gained as a friend of event organizers, Ariella was helping out preaching efforts in the city square, supplementing the food hand-outs by churches from a different denomination. This was especially given to compromise since churches all had different interpretations of their religious texts.

Also, inside a small cave den close to the surface and perforated with holes serving as windows, a handful of goblin babies saw the form of the goblin necromancer who helped kill 30 adventurers from Charles' group under John Roger.

Farthest from the city, a girl with diligence, a talent in fire magic, and parents with connections to noble-adjacent people emerged from a tiny school building, an older magic teacher accompanying her out. The street were filled with magically-trained children aged 4 to 12 years old wearing white and red banners on their backs as the school's tradition and culture.

At the city gate John Roger had started rebuilding, many of the workers were starving and thirsty, having been told to wait for John to return. However, in the meantime, the Just had attacked, and no one told them. They heard the sounds of battle, but they didn't want to disobey John. However, they were already getting too tired of waiting. So they would leave a few minutes from now. Fortunately, Sinclair's miners had already left. It was a little disorganized, but John hadn't left one of his men to keep an eye on them. So it was expected that even some of the workers would disobey the order, especially given the Just's attack.

Around the city, various laborers, including Inframark and his brother, observed the looming, vast, and call-filled rainforest jungle, accompanied by Sprutnoa, who didn't make the Just's attack his problem enough to quit his job like many others.

In the verdant forest directly connected to the city via Northe Road (or, in goblins' terms, "Multa"), a group of five talented young mages observed a monster in the form of a chest on four spider-like legs and the two humanoid demons accompanying it.

While several monks were walking through the streets with caution in the city grounds, they noticed a group of diversely clothed protégés. After a glance, they discovered the goblin trinkets hanging by their weapons, bags, and clothes, widening their eyes with admiration. After a short conversation between themselves, the monks began a discussion characterized by a more sophisticated lean with these protégés. Soon, they learned that the goblin trinkets were bought from a thousand goblins that had founded a settlement. Since both the monks and the protégés belonged to a secret society and it was against the society's principles to avoid interacting with goblins, the protégés reached a pay settlement with the monks, the protégés having expected this.

Speaking of which, the settlement of goblins were going through their first wave of monsters, having weakened their fortifications in order to bait the enemy to attack earlier before their forces more fully mobilized.

Moreover, several women hurried inside the back of a church, preparing for festivities, expecting an adventurer group. This was the same group Nathaniel had hired to help Shadrach for several days.

As for the network of 47 friends, 20 contacts, and 15 enemies created by Billy, his current fellow apprentice miners, and his former ones, it had become dormant, waiting until further notice.

As for deceased parties, they included the Just, Millie, Maverick, a portion of his fellow laborers, 48 of the apprentice miners of Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, the marginalized adventurers who attacked citizens, the many adventurers who lost their lives against the Just, the goblin messenger killed by Goldberg, and the 30 adventurers belonging to John Roger, who were killed by the goblin necromancer, among many others.

Today was day 23.

Billy and his fellow apprentice miners were made to wait a week before Nathaniel would gather them again.

With that said, the ambitions of other relevant parties continued to be cultivated and explored with their growing unique lines of development.

First, Nathaniel stood inside a building, watching from the edifice. "I can't bear to watch these people being so weak. It's tiring. Boring! I have to make sure that they grow beyond their limits. They must become everything."

Second, Charles gritted his teeth, staring down the dungeon core, plunging his hands into it and inheriting the great power of the dungeon, transforming into it. He wanted to become the epitome of great power.

Third, Goldberg felt a biting pain, as he was berated and insulted by the officials. They had created a hero out of him, but now, they mocked him and treated him as if he was lesser. But it was the officials who embraced adventurers that saved him from further castration. With this newfound support, as a hero, he dared to do great things, continuing his conversation with the Marchacha Goblins, with whom he had a complex relationship.

Fourth, In one meeting between him and them, Kahul and the rest of the Marchacha Goblins raised a toast and made sure he was adequately welcomed. They wanted to bring the downfall of human superiority, but they needed reliable humans to respond in tandem—breaking the monolith from the outside and the inside. This was divide and conquer.

Returning to the moment, Billy watched the fulminating rain storm of the sky, his heart beating quietly. After being adjacent to a world and people echoing with big, wide-reaching, and grandiose statements, ideas, concepts, symbolisms, and explorations, he merely appreciated the distractions of his environment, being an unstudied and uneducated observer. Many would say that it was because he was this unknowledgeable that he was able to enjoy the world as it was. To illustrate this concept metaphorically, the nerve representing Billy's unadulterated perspective was divided by maturity, leaving the artery and vein intact. Following this, trauma (stimulation) no longer produced an increased secretion of wonder. But this was only according to the concept that pre-maturity exclusively held the pronounced benefit of awe. In the end, the environment itself, even without formal education, presented an art piece lavishing experiencers with endless growth.

Billy's desire to relax and focus on living in the present was mirrored by the current landscape, as many adventurers who had lost much in the attack were now unable to receive loans due to the tighter underwriting standards of treasuries. Basically, they required higher credit scores, especially particularly adapted to adventuring. As a result of the crisis, now, adventurers were being pushed into a much smaller capacity, most of them having their specializations robbed from them and their time and energy thrust toward daily-basis work, or day labor, negligibly tailored by their unique experience and skills. This happened in concert with an increase in homelessness among adventurer veterans. In a broader, more relevant way, this emerged as a socioeconomic issue of the big prices senior monster-dealing adventurers paid in the aftermath of the crisis. This led to a rise in the need to live slower and forget ambitions and focus on recuperating in unison. In more associatively sensational terms, this was the large-scale displacement of adventurers due to the massive loss of adventurers during the Just's attack.

Moreover, since adventurers were predominantly male, women were the ones left behind by the loss of adventurer life, so they had more power here while also shouldering the aftermath of the crisis. The accompanying policy reviews would lead to a broader increase in democratization and increased power among women. However, an absolute monarch could single-handedly shut this down depending on their personal beliefs. But for better or worse, the current city-state was an aristocratic monarchy.

Anyway, returning to adventuring, it was still going strong, with many nobles like John Roger continuing to sponsor dungeon expeditions. This was why even now, Goldberg lowered his head in front of the officials who mocked him, hoping to capitalize on his newfound status. If he dared make a scene now, he would lose all respect and his reputation would be tossed to the ground.

Investigation and accountability were launched in response to questions raised about the circumstances that had led to the crisis and whether adequate measures were taken to protect the adventurers' lives.

But in the end, it didn't matter what happened.

Billy desperately reverted focus to his present, removing his straying thoughts.

The present was sufficient to establish himself in this new era.

"We begin," he said, holding a small vace and carrying inside his home. His house had grown in size, and this was with the help of Nathaniel. Since infrastructure was changing, Billy's home was one of many homes that had become repurposed for the city's recovery. This was why Billy was bringing water.

Eventually, he gave the repurposed vace to a haggard man with scars across his chin and lips; his clothes were disheveled; his arms were stiff with bandaged injuries; and his eyes, which had been bright with hope, were disillusioned.

Shifting to others like the haggard man, around him, many others lay still or sat down with their arms awkwardly resting against their bodies or the floor. Moreover, the wounded were a crucial resource, and Billy's role here was indispensable. To conclude, Nathaniel made sure that people were aware of that role structure.

Sauntering to a matter of metaphorical importance, within Billy's physical smile, a timely drip of rainwater was opening up a grand line of a hurricane of peoples from across the land.

Chapter 33 - Forging New Paths: Adapting to Change in the City's Recovery
Familiar groups and individuals maintained their direction and focus despite the challenges a recovering city entailed.

Billy, Notch, and Shadrach were set to expand into mining more. Even if it was complex, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair streamlined his operations and delegated enough that the boys could finally get into it.

This was a big development for them, since the recent events had become too overwhelming to return to normal life. They hoped that this mining training would restore their sense of balance. This was their new normal.

When it came to Goldberg, he was already finished with his concerns, having disappearing into the challenging role of a hero. He was no longer seen in person by his previous connections: the prisoners he had befriended, the Marchacha goblins, the apprentice miners, including Billy, Notch, and Shadrach, and Nathaniel. However, he kept in touch with his family: his wife, Priscilla; his son, Nash; and his daughter, Leia.

Charles was still beginning to explore his new powers, but the demands of the new authority occupying the adventurer guild seats were draconic to be the backbone of the recovery of the city. So his position and the powers he gained from the dungeon core would be a pillar of this recovery.

Now, with these characters entering new sections of their lives, delving into their perspectives without a break would no longer yield increasing returns, as their environment had made up the primary yield. Maverick, who was the first mentioned at day 1, was a good example of this, a man whose life kickstarted various waves across his city, but he was not alive to witness it. It was his stimulated environment that demonstrated the greatness of his existence and not him on his own. To conclude, the perspective of one of the young powerful travelers currently navigating to the city would prove distinct, albeit serving as respite.

He had little political or philosophical goals, but it was his simple perspective that brought life to the darkness of the shadows of the city monolith.

He began cutting trees, collecting various logs at a small fishing town. His goal was to keep his focus and his axe sharp. With this, he would remind himself everyday of the coming wave of goblins that he was told would arrive 17 years from now. He felt that it was too little time for him to prepare, expecting to reach a strong enough level of strength 30 years later. This was why he was serious about meditating in moments like these, because he had to be consistent.

He cut down another tree, making sure to use magic to plant another tree. The magic facilitated his forraging process, as it made planting instantaneous. It was a power that he felt only he had.

And that was why he was responsible.

After pushing the logs on top of each other and piling them up, he looked around, hoping to survey his current landscape.

He was still outside the city gates, but he planned on living here anyway, remote.

He cut down two trees just now. He had 15 logs already, and that was a lot. But magic guided him, so he wasn't too troubled.

He took 5 hits to cut down one of the trees, and the trees weren't all that thick.

His goal was to clear the jungle, since it was a dense tropical rainforest. So slash-and-burn agriculture made the most sense right now.

But vegetation was very stubborn, and it would a very, very long time before anything visually conclusive would be seen.

However, in the meantime, he was training his foraging.

The night was cold, and nothing seemed to bother him.

But he always hid those past events deep in his heart—the afterimages of a long life.

All the images liberally flashed through his mind.

At night, it was difficult to sleep, but when he did, he was finally okay.

His life, when compared to so many people, had little use other than to work.

He knew that.

But he still wished to make a difference, or maybe that was also what made his life just one of many—the fact that his life would add its slice to the pie that was the world, but never to the point of superiority.

He lay down, resting his head, pushing his back against the nearest rock for support. He didn't know what else to do.

Yet, he knew what felt like more than everything he could ever contain in his little mind of his. It was a vast world that he was living in, and the everyday silences bothered him sometimes. But he learned how to deal with it.

Maybe, that was the perks of a long life. It still hurt. He just learned to manage it, and now he could confidently say that he would rather be here than be back there in the past when things were tumultuous and chaotic. He didn't want to live in a lie, so whatever thoughts his child self spun he discarded.

He didn't want to lay here for too long.

He stood up and began working, his everyday existential thoughts making no difference for anybody else but him.

Shifting to his name, honestly, he didn't need a name. He would take the name "Nameless" any day or some common name that didn't provide any insight to who he was or where he came from.

He was Nameless.

But he would rather not even be seen to be anything.

He was discardable.

That was why he had to strive to protect people, even if in the grand scheme of things, humans were already dead.

He had to fight and live in the moment.

He struck a tree, making sure it knew who was striking it. He didn't want to be striking trees without his heart, soul, and mind in the action. He needed everything he did to be purposeful and intentional, lest he lost the only thing that made him him—the capacity to be here now as the person he currently was.

He wasn't even a male being.

He was nameless, genderless, and lacking in an identity. The only thing he was was a human being, and even that was in question.

He was nothing.

But the sparks of a younger life called for him to become everything.

"I have to..." said his younger self when he was fighting a giant orc amid friends: Dani, Lesrob, and Robyn.

He cried at the present. He had lost his friends, his family, and his soul. Who was he now!

He said: "I am nothing... I have to be. If I am something, then the weight of the guilt and the expectations will upend me and bring me away from here to... what place? I don't know."

He had lost so much.

He fell to his knees and begged the earth to swallow him up. "Eat me! Take me away! I am unhindered! I am weak! I am faulty! And I am unable to be divine! I am a meek soul breeding horror again and again with my simplicity. With these daily motions, I am utterly incapable of love. I am a stranger to that window that calleth after me—it reminds me of the past. That I cannot change it breaks my resolve."

He was lonely, but he was not a man, a person, or a human being.

He was drifting straight into oblivion—The Gates of Hell. The Terror of Hades. The Gone-For-Good Place.

He would finally die once this was all over. But not yet.

He wanted to rest and sleep with his beloved, those people whom he called brethren and friends and lovers. He lost so many children over the years, having been tossed and turned by the world and monster and evil.

He was gone.

But his fingers, hands, arms, and his entire body tasted the earth and rejuvenated in him a capacity for pain and an understanding of the ground that he was on right now.

He was present.

He wanted to disappear and become a ghost.

He would not become special.

He would get what he wanted.

Transitioning to the city, Billy looked around, finding himself in a bit of a pickle. The mining operations were going well; however, he was just tasked to go deeper into the dungeon. So since he was a little worried about goblins after seeing the Marchacha goblins in person, he invited Robert, the boy who loved the darkness, to help him.

Robert raised his hands over his head and pretended to be a ghost, making high, childish strides forward. "Let's go! Woohoo! If I see one of them, I'll give them a peekaboo! Alright!" He was referring to the goblins.

Billy said: "Hey, don't actually say that. I'm worried, you know. The game and stuff. All around. I've been seeing so much of them, so I don't know... You know?" He was scatter-brained, and he was also scared right now.

When they turned a corner, they were surprised to see a eye-singer staring back at them.

Billy and Robert made a run for it, because its chirp made their targets' eyes burn.

The eye-singer chirped, and Billy and Robert were immediately affected.

But they knew the way out, using their hands and striding high and wide to keep their balance and know-how around the cave tunnel.

Fortunately, the eye-singer didn't follow them, so they were good to go. After returning, they continued to mine the blocks, upping their experience overtime.

Billy, Notch, and Shadrach, and the older apprentice miners like Robert were under a new trainer.

The trainer was simple and wasn't particularly skilled, but not too much of an eye-sore. He was the type that was hired due to an enterprise structure that prioritized loyalty rather than skill.

In the end, Billy was happy that Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair had moved from being the apprentice miners' trainer to one of the leaders of the recovery effort, since Billy generally trusted Nathaniel's judgement from their previous time together.

Anyway, when it came to their mining effort and the progression of the eye-singer, Shadrach played a role by drawing mini-maps and writing down notes. Earlier, Billy brought up Shadrach's skill as a note-taker, and the trainer encouraged this.

Billy followed up on this by engaging in note-taking himself, inviting Notch to do so as well. Notch agreed.

Their follow-up enabled Shadrach to organize since Billy and Notch served as two replicators for him to consolidate knowledge.

Their skill set as a group now included mining and note-taking, but they previously demonstrated coordination even without these specific skills. Not just coordination, they cross-coordinated with the other apprentice miners on one occasion at least, especially since the incident that had taken 48 apprentice miners' lives. And their experience as teenagers who had grown up actively interacting within a tight lower-income part of the city yielded them sociocultural finnesse.

Eventually, several adventurers entered the cave, waving at the apprentice miners' trainer. They were his friends.

After talking to the trainer for a while and asking how he was going and about future plans together, they left, heading to the adventurer guild.

At the guild, various chairs and tables were strewn around the room, as various parties sat down and invited others comfortably and casually. The guild was bright, and a group of musicians and singers used a microtonal and melismatic style in a relaxing tone. Dancers were also engaging in this repetitive, spasmic movements.

This guild had bred its own distinct community enough that all kinds of adventurers hanged out, including unique individuals with eye-catching armor, weapons, pets, or artifacts.

As for the several adventurers who were friends of the trainer, they played a smaller role compared to the other adventurers, being part of a larger rabbit extermination team within the guild. The guild was separated into divisions, but when it came to the smallest regular tasks like rabbit extermination, they assigned it to a team.

The several adventurers were part of a party named "Shunabi," and the rabbit extermination team was acronymed "RBT."

These adventurers would never encounter people like Charles Finch, who was located on a much different kind of level within the adventurer guild, a much different role, and a much different side branch of the guild.

So they provided a sight into the more urban side of things, participating in quests that were only days away from the city. Charles Finch's quests were much farther and involved areas that had much less residential infrastructure and concerned a centralized, more forward-operating base of operations. However, it was complex, and it was simple as just a single remote base. Certain trade routes of certain goods traveled through here, so this place, in a complicated manner, was still connected to the city. But Charles Finch and the base operated peripheral to larger objectives of this location such as handling other nobles' building-sized magical artifacts. This didn't include John Roger's gate, but it was an important strategic location. But even that lay peripheral to broader considerations such as the way adventurer items were exchanged. It was a part of the city's priorities to maintain the ease in which adventurers could liquidate their items, so they invested most of their funding into a list of enhancements to the backed-up structure—mostly having to do with regulation, appraisal, training, new magic integration, academia collaboration, responsible stewardship, and international collaboration.

Anyway, the adventurers of Shunabi entered a quest, watching the clouds.

After sighting a single rabbit, they immediately revealed their hand, striking the goblin down with multiple arrows, rogue dashes, and sweeping sword attacks. When the rabbit leapt away, an army of rabbits emerged.

A spear from behind struck the rabbits, causing a panic.

The swordsman kept slashing, breaking them down in waves.

The archers shot stray rabbits, causing a sense of panic to stand out, pushing against each other to find cover and ruining their momentum.

The rogue located the rabbits who escaped and neutralized them.

However, many of the rabbits still escaped.

This was how they operated, and it was normal.

Ascending to a broader perspective, this city continued to hum springly into the day and gently into the night, denoting the hwah (inhale) and whoooosh (exhale) of its lifeblood. The next days would continue to involve the characters' reinvention of themselves as they proceeded into the new era. And intensity would build gradually.

Chapter 34 - Evolving Paths of Billy, Notch, and Shadrach.

Author's Note

I apologize for the 62-min delay and for missing out the day before. To compensate, I will upload a double ## Chapter in the future, maybe tomorrow. I appreciate your understanding.


Billy moved again, strengthening his resolves, his pickaxe strking unhurriedly against the cold stone. His eyes bursting with color, he rubbed them to prevent his imagination from leaking out via murmurings. At night, he walked out, finished with his training, accompanied by friends like Notch, Shadrach, and the other apprentices.

Whatever people expected from him would be finished, because Billy was quick on the move. And the person he was before was lesser than the more responsible and reliable person he was now. So he could commit to personal and more formal tasks because people really didn't think he was so capable so as to burden him too much. It was hard being an 18-year-old among younger boys, but that allowed him to focus on taking it easy and slow. If time had problems with him, he would listen. But right now, he could gloat in his silence; not a single touch of work stress taking him alive and beating him sorely.

The people were expecting Notch to be a lot more respectful his eyes having seen plenty of things. It was hard being in a new world where socializing wasn't the main priority. Now, it was all about helping each other and cooperation. Talk was merely the tool to assist and support. It was no longer about hierarchies and balances of power. It was still there, but it didn't concern Notch emotionally and among his support structure. Those he concerned himself with only allowed him to be respectful instead of that spunky boy that he used to be, who always managed to get ahead compared to his friends when it came to getting authorities on his side and giving him treats. He cared about how chicken made him look cool because others thought it was too expensive, but how could he express that care now that this world was turned upside-down? People wanted him to be responsible and respectful. That was all. But he found that to be incredibly unfair.

Shadrach was a writer, but the words he held to heart were few.And he could only adjust each letter each time he incorrectly wrote one. It was a balance of patience and knowing the greatness that lay behind the documentation of words, memories and characteristics of times past. He saw the past through the letters that he wrote, being more of an artist than a writer of comprehensive history. But that was fine. His simply worded reports always amused his betters at work. He now worked as an apprentice miner, and the trainer there really wanted him to press his luck as a writer. He listened; thus, he became the trainer's best candidate for mining administration.

But Shadrach wanted more than that. Billy wanted more than what he had. Notch never wanted things to change.

Their child (or young) states were important, even if the details might reveal themselves at one point to be altogether unimportant.

Moving on to another perspective, At the town houses on which divine inspiration flowed down generationally, five young men looked around, their faces in constant up and down, as their lips became tied together with cursory expressions. In front of them, one of them was a particularly tall man staring upon the wider landscape of Antipolo City, the place where Billy, Notch, Shadrach, and almost everyone else previously mentioned lived.

These men were nonnoble and recently ennobled merchants, lawyers, and state bureaucrats, and they had become preoccupied with the vast sums of wealth they had accumulated and then lost in the Just's attack.

Submerging focus into their viewpoint, they belonged to a large city empty of its people and only fulfilling the job of tearing down familial pursuits, those of maintaining professional branding with respect to a family. This was why they were scared to fight against the wave that would soon be coming—people from all around the region would be coming here to visit what was supposed to be the grand opening of a new villa district, where all those who sought the "red lights" of adventurerdom were free to peruse and to create for themselves a brand new refuge. That villa district was theirs. However, the Just had ruined all that, causing grief upon grief to pile up like breads being turned over and in half by cutlery. This was the end of all things and the start of something new, for one of them, the tall man of grand esteem, whose eyes embraced the landmarks of the city, was inclined to tear away all the obstacles in their way. He stated: "Let us create bread, my friends, and remove this world and make it anew. To do this, we have to make sure that the city recognizes our footing in its success. But we need the adventurers' help!"

A bureacrat among them said: "Oh, but the adventurers' guild had changed. The new controllers have taken root and have shunned the idea that they might benefit the lazy pauper, whose dirty hands, touted to be so hardworking, would clean and repair all by themselves if they were truly so! I am not saying so as to discourage us from success. But I am warning that the controllers standing upon the seats and the gates will not permit any consideration toward the benefit of foreign travelers and migrants from afar lest we ourselves put our hands to the laboring pen!"

The tall man answered: "That is a natural subsequent to our challenges, but we arise like doves on a Sellas' day. We are like maidens running about with no end in sight, with no end in sight. We shallowly move our feet, tearing the wood planks that keep us secure. This way, we are but free birds in a broadleaf evergreen-laden glade." He urged the other young men, who were called the "New Men," to seek the hardship of work in order to be as true as a nightly gown presented everyday to the newly ennobled members among them.

He continued, concluding their lengthy discussion: "Let us partake then in our ceremony that we may show anger toward our oppressors—the monsters and the rulers that send them to us as invaders."

Moving on to Billy, he mined the cave, continuing down the path of thought and peace. Since people expected him to become a superior boy within a shy age of 18 years old, he could only put his hands to the test and embrace the hardship of idle work. But his work was never idle, always a challenge to his Achilles tendon that was located behind the foot, the shoulders, arms, forearms, and hands. For context, it might have been due to faulty technique, but Billy's world was local rather than global. So bad habits within a vacuum came unnoticed. Anyway, the pickaxe was relentless in its pursuit, but he had to tame it, keeping his accuracy in position. But when he finally moved it forward, the accuracy then diverged, giving him an opportunity to draw that initial accuracy through the successive stages of the forward movement to hit his rocky target. His goal was all about learning to manage the physical vulnerabilities produced by constant work in order to reap the benefits thereof.

He shot forward, mining the store as fast as he could like a turned-on rabbit in a predatorless land. He slashed and destroyed the rock, segmenting its infrastructure like the Just toward the city. He removed it and broke it; he tied it down to the paddy field where rice was born. He humanized it and recognized it as it was, and that was how he birthed life to solid rock divorced. Then, continuing his immersion with mining rock, an interplay between colors and flashing lights erupted from the segments.

Billy found his mind being transmitted to a magical plane.

He realized that he was here in the moment, but with a new feature in his mind—skills and spells. He was shown a holographic projection that listed out his new skills and spells.

He didn't know what to do about it, but he was glad to have reached this level of enlightenment to see things that he had never seen. He had always been told by his parents never to question the unbelievable and to accept it as long as it wasn't a demon or a demon pretending to be an angel.

It didn't matter to him though, as he would soon ignore it to focus on his mining journey for the meantime.

Billy already had magic, but it was only now that his general ability for magic was separated into distinct identities in the form of skills and spells. This was an evolution of his ability to think and form connections, especially in a magical level. Cognition played a significant role into how people entertained a heightened sense of existence characterized by the magical divulsion of the walls barring the self.

A broader world beckoned him to grow and to see.

But he was not alone in this being beckoned. Notch, Shadrach, Nathan, Ethan, Sophia, Liam, Alexander, Oliver, Ava, Jackson, and Benjamin shared the same environment.

Billy stared at the vastness of tight mining place, envisioning a broader world beyond these limitations. He knew valuable ores hid behind this restricting plane. He only had to see.

He met up with Notch and found himself shaking hands with many more people. One Notch represented a whole line of Notches influenced by him in the same manner that Notch was influenced by each and every one of them. He shook hands with a network when he shared drinks with one, word of mouth tearing through the excess gel-like clumps of blood blocking flow. He flourished by marrying hands with the sky of possibility produced by this composite.

Billy was assigned a list of tasks by their trainer.

They were surprised to learn that the trainer's adventurer friends were willing to help the apprentice miners out by boosting them with buffs. Even now, they were still being supported by all kinds of people for free. The apprentice miners had never seen such support from anyone else other than Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair, and they wondered if Nathaniel and the Just's attack were the reasons for it.

Eventually, the adventurers brought various loot into the mines to show them the different kinds of loot. Since their route passed by this area, they thought that it wouldn't hurt to get along with the kids their trainer friend managed.

"So what's this?" Notch said, being among the first apprentice miners to socialize with the adventurers.

"Goblin ears, gnome hats, gnoll collars..." said one adventurer, Manbreaker. "There's also ettin here if you've ever heard of them." He found a piece of ettin fur and showed it to Notch.

When Notch accepted it, he found that its texture was strangely oily. "Why does it feel wet?"

"Oh, that's just how it is. I guess you've never really been outside and about."

"How about you? I thought adventurers were only here inside the city."

"No, we do sometimes go far-far out. But yeah, I'd say most of us stay only here and check out the dungeons. That's our forte, really."

"Okay."

Incidentally, Notch wondered how Goldberg was doing.

Goldberg and the rest were shoehorned into roles they wouldn't otherwise take if it wasn't for the current circumstances of the city. In other words, their environment would always make the man.

Notch was only here taking his time.

The adventurer couldn't showing him various loot items, but ambition sparked in Notch's heart, one lit every time a male grew to a certain age. It was the expectations of the city, the social hierarchy, and cultural history. He was to become a nameless laborer, whether in war or in the sleepless mines.

His life of abundance had a time limit.

He got up, and as time passed, he found that everything made sense.

And he drifted away, eaten alive by the comforts of the city and the rules it had created for those who needed only to obey to be satisfied.

But those who had come to hate the sensibilities of their environment grow to become its opponents—while stuck in environments themselves, the goblins were antagonists to human prosperity. The late Just was a symbol of the Human eating itself in a similar sense to the snake that ate its own tail, Ouroboros. But this self-destruction was not total annihilation. It was the anvil on which humanity at its worst was forged. That was what goblins feared—a human pseudo-philosophical and pseudo-intellectual metamorphosis. For context, this level of transformation could be compared to the Age of Enlightenment. As for why they feared a metaphosis of this level, as societal tension escalated and rationales grew more sophisticated, goblins feared becoming the scapegoats of a new era, if not intentionally excluded from the scripts of ethics. In essence, they lay in apprehension about a potential realpolitik scenario.

This was politics.

But that was boring.

Goldberg wanted to sleep. He was taking his time off for the first time in a while, not truly caring about this whole new position hero thing. He looked like a broken chalice, similar to the ones he saw thrown out on the road in front of the noble houses. It despaired to see such items thrown away. It didn't really matter to him. All that mattered was the agency to act; any other past feelings belonging to his childhood he pushed away. It didn't matter whether he was a dog, a car, or a man. What mattered was that he had a role to fulfill, and he would go all the way.

Chapter 35 - The Battle of the Monster Wave

Author's Note

I apologize for missing publishing a ## Chapter yesterday. Overall, I published 4 ## Chapters today, including the one extra ## Chapter I added due to missing publishing two days ago. However, when it comes to the ## Chapter I didn't publish yesterday, I will double-post (publish a ## Chapter and an extra one) at a future date to compensate, maybe tomorrow. I appreciate your understanding.


Goldberg stepped in front of a large door, hundreds of doors stretching far to the left and to the right.

Next to him, two women reaching only as tall as his shoulders pointed at the door, encouraging him to enter.

When he entered, he was not surprised, having been here before.

The room had a tall ceiling, leaving Goldberg to pause again and appreciate it with awe.

The people before him were high and mighty, as they were the congress.

Transitioning to the city authorities' purpose for him, the fact that he was here meant two things—they wanted him to play a larger role in the city, and they wanted him to leave behind his older life and completely become assimilated into the authority. This meant greater power in theory, but what really ended up happening was that people were going to do things. And he was going to do it. He didn't really have power. All he had was a hand, and he did with it whatever people told him to do with it. It wasn't agency. It was toolhood.

He sat down.

Continuing the discussion of the city, instead of this congress place looking over the city, the city looked over it. This place was underground, as if he was hiding from what people could do. Magic played a great role in making sure that whatever happened in terms of decisions that impacted hundreds and thousands of lives were observed and responded to immediately, whether it be a celebration or an uprising. That was the waves and turns of the city. Time passed, and it just never stopped. It didn't get so bad that it was unturn back to health, and it didn't get so good that everyone just decided to abandon their magic and their weapons and their spells and their skills and their hopes and their dreams. They had a trigger, and the authorities were begging.

They begged for stability.

That was all they could they really do.

And any hero that came about was really just, "Okay, this is what you do next."

Shifting to a more objective perspective, he was wrong in implying that it was inevitable for the government to be weak forever. But he might be right that magic could serve as a means of limiting government power, though not inherently.

Behind him, the two women continued down their business. Even with their personalities kept in check, they still returned home with the desire to eat their favorite foods and visit places that they enjoyed, even if it might have been peripheral to the main professional reason they were there in those places.

Their names was Luna Stardust and Zoey Sunshine, two friends who spent lots of time cultivating belief in the inevitability of two secretaries in the place of decision-making. The way they cast their ideals convinced the elements within government to shift their focus. It was primarily social ultimately, and any social manipulations added up to a broader sphere of influence. If one strung along a network throughout the government so large that ommitting would leave everything in collapse, then whatever faction was in control, they would survive the many bloodlettings that went on in the Royal House.

In contrast, they fished as a partime.

Around the same time, Goldberg released himself from the cluthes of political hierarchy, running after a new quest to shield the barriers protecting the city in order to atone for his sins of leaving the apprentice miners and in order to get away from the more unsavory sides of being a symbol. But though he thought so, his actions were demarcated by the plans and strategies maintained by the government authority.

Meanwhile, in the midst of this spontaneity and self-willed desperation amid systemic elements, hundreds of entities, whether human, monster, or magical force, were all tied to the greater goal of this world—to enact chaos.

Furthering this idea, dancing outward to a broader, more natural part of this fantastical realm, the world was a chaotic place, and even now, monsters were being triggered by a global event, motivated into attacking the human races—perpetrators called the Succubi rang the bell of destruction that left the world in awe: an event had begun.

Eventually, hundreds of adventurers came at the gates, not shying away to protect the trees and harmony of the forest, guided by the guild and the authorities that kept their aim secure. In opposition, the monsters were headed here.

Similarly, Goldberg would be stationed at the gates sooner or later, but it wasn't his designated time, which was a detail about government decision-making that he had overheard from the leaders he was regularly assigned to. To delve deper, this framework of being moved and turned according to the wishes of his greater social structure were cunningly manufactured. It was a matter of commanding him to entertain more than just his own manhood and beating human soul, but more crucially, the weight of the responsibilies left over in the aftermath of the Just. Extending this depth to his lifeblood, his children and his wife were still in suspension, left to fend as a separated identity while he was gone.

Soon, he arrived.

His heart pounding in his chest, he made his way down the road, accompanied by legions of unique adventurers, each bearing a distinct style of fighting and personality. This was a family of warriors, so they had to show up and perform well today.

Goldberg began running up the hill, targeting a large monster surrounding by fallen trees and legions of monsteers.

He commanded his archers to shoot at the enemy from afar while they kept their distance. But the monsters were fast, four-handedly sprinting their way forward, breaking apart the initial soft temporary magical defences the adventurers had employed to give a pause to the monsters' charge. Meanwhile, Golderg said to retreat now that they had surmised the enemy's strength. It was strange for him to be doing this, but his lack of strategy was crucial here. Even if it was a waste of time, his willingness to try out risky strategies, while inefficient, reflected is boldness in the midst of ignorance, which wasn't necessarily a good thing, even in this desperate situation. But for the people present, it was the only thing they could do for now.

Goldberg knew that the monsters could not be beaten by a head-on charge, and that was what kept him thinking. For someone who was just a regular adventurer who had only served as a guard, this role was practically impossible to deal with.

He needed to find a way to make sense of this.

But the battle was raging.

He called his team to cast magic at a line of enemies before he commanded them to put shields. What he was saying didn't necessarily trigger their choices, but it mostly served as a way to unify their attacks. That was the only thing he was taught. The rest were given short training before he was dumped into combat. Since monsters were everywhere, they let Goldberg deal with the lesser monsters. But since Goldberg was that bad at strategizing, even these monsters were large threats.

Goldberg commanded his team to shoot again and again, and it was working. But the monsters only had to charge forward, chase after them, and ambush them from blindspots in the flanks to begin destroying them one by one.

Goldberg was immediately put to the rest.

He decided to go after the only thing he knew—to fight.

He tried fighting the monsters, but he found his leg pulled, his head gripped, and his body tossed.

He fell to the earth, and he was unable to get up anymore, for the monsters were all over him.

Goldberg slashed his way out of there again, but that was his last chance.

He ran with the rest of his team, understanding that he needed the Marchacha goblins to help him. And if not them, he needed to train himself so hard that this never happened again. He lost 50 adventurers under him today.

The monsters continued onward; their legs felt as thick as they were tall. This onslaught would never end.

The adventurers kept ringing the bells of salvation, shooting their shots—wishing that every last one of them dropped.

But the monsters were growing in numbers.

After everything, an external threat was the only thing that would remove all the complexities that lay inside the city. The humanity that made them them was overwhelming, and if not one person could do nothing, then all of this would fall apart.

Someone had to fight his way to the surface, and none of the previously mentioned individuals were fit for the job.

It needed someone with just the right military skill, but even that would yield sacrifices, as the tools, weapons, and resources were never perfect and fool-proof. People made mistakes from time to time.

And that someone was the commander of the army, who was busy taking care of the monster vanguard.

But the issue was that he had hoped that Goldberg would solve the issue, as he was forced to utilize Goldberg instead of his more reliable men. The thing was that this monster wave was routine, but it was also very cruel and horrible.

And that was what made this incredibly challenging.

Shifting to the conclusion, the fight continued for a few days, and soon enough, it ended.

All of those hopes, dreams, struggles, pain, and suffering were all dilluted once it all ended, as it was only a small wave in the grand scheme of things. It wsa too relatively tiny a fight that it left the whole world untouched and unapolegetic.

From a broader perspective, it was just a game, and it was only one wave.

To explore this concept further, in children's games, they had waves, and all the details that were supposed to be there in these games, if it was reality, were not there.

In this world, waves were the inevitable march of doom; games were the simple fight between monsters and humans; and people were going to die.

Moving on to the moment, boys were playing in the field, unaware of the disasters practically right at their doorstep. Their laborer fathers spoke about it, and the boys understood to some degree, their eyes full of tense curiosity, as if about to face a great exciting tyrant like in a children's game. This excitement stemmed from a joint interplay of curiosity and ignorance, leaving them creeping to explore the monster's jaws.

They ran in the field; there, joy was in abundance. But sooner or later, that little tiny field they would soon see for what it was—nothing but a canvas for their wildest imaginations.

The world was even greater, and soon, they would seek power—the power to change this futile earth!

But many a child there who frolicked about would eventually transform into people playing a role in greater society.

In contrast, for the time, the children would try to break free from the sticky bubbly slime.

Though, for now, they would play their game, and in it, vast worlds would become established. Upon this rock of thought, their souls would incline toward greatness. This was where the greatest minds became clear—in the art of childhood play.

They ran, screaming at the top of their lungs, their hands gripping weapons of play. They slashed each other, moving from side to side and flaying the air. The night approached, but they kept their stances, sweat dripping down their cheeks. Their heart pulsing, they jumped in flying motions and climbed slopes in order to advance and to retreat.

They obeyed the rules of this game they played, and eventually, the winners were often the most physically capable. But the children, in a similar manner to Goldberg, would soon hear of strategy, tactics, and tempo. And in small amounts, they did incorporate it, creating surprising moments for all of them.

They would need to discover that for themselves, and if not by themselves, then with the help of emulating others and their seniors.

They crept forward like soldiers in a war, hiding away and disappearing into the more superior night.

Moving on to Goldberg, his mind's reception to training was expectedly slow and confused, but he was determined to understand the ways in which fights were assembled and adjusted finely in very speedy increments with attention to every single detail bouncing against each other like tiny waves in a splash of water.

Entering the moment, Goldberg said, "Now, what of it? I've seen several of them bumping about, but I haven't actually been informed on the gruely details. Were they that presumptuous? I haven't gotten a check yet by the Conglo, but it makes sense to diavow it right?"

For context, "Conglo" referred to the people in authority.

"Are you defending them?" said a man next to him, Neverdie.

"Yeah, what are you saying?" said another man, Lazan.

Goldberg chirped, "Well, I haven't been informed so. I was just assuming."

"Well, put your imagines away."

Chapter 36 - Adventures and Reflections

Author's Note

To start, this is an mid-arc author's note, which means I'm intentionally shifting gears after the non-linear, multi-storyline, poly-character structure of the first arc. To rephrase, this new second arc will involve movements in narrative style to service better the evolving story. This means that in order to make the tale more linear and cohesive, the narrative style will shift toward tying characters together in an expositional, descriptive, thematic, and contextualizing manner, which is distinct from information dumps, without forcing events that would drag them together for artificial linearity and cohesion (1) and contrived immediate and continuous action, dialogue, and immediacy (2). This way, their progressively organically expanding storylines are secured while maintaining togetherness through more nuanced and delicate routes such as background and themes. Basically, when there are divers plotlines, there has to be some bond, and background context and themes shared by all the main characters, especially in relation to their respective directions, allows the story to maintain solidarity. In even shorter terms, the exposition are not information dumps, but tying rope or string elements, or binding agents. From a different angle, the story is wider in narrative scale and reach, so what is usually only short context becomes proportional in size to it, giving the appearance of an information dump. In contrast to what the earlier points might imply, the second arc is not necessarily better than the first arc. The first arc did employ the aforementioned strategies for the second arc, but the second arc is delving deeper into unity. In conclusion, this serves as a roadmap moving forward.


Soon, Goldberg stared at the horizon and began his routine patrols. These patrols were also being included as part of his new "Hero's Journey," a new propangandized event to promote heroism among adventurers and to provide a sense of support and welcome to new adventurer entrants. This was an idea forged in collaboration with the New Adventurer's Division. He was not only a symbol for adventurers, but in detail, he was a banner and a figurehead, showcasing the benefits of being part of adventurerhood, even amid the aftermath of the Just.

Fortunately, even after the losses, adventurers were still coming, because the new adventurer authorities worked alongside with the city authorities in orchestrating the message that the reason they lost was that the old adventurers had grown complacent—a method of distancing. That was why they grabbed the term "New Adventurers" from "New Adventurer's Division" to reframe the new era, drawing copious support from entitled younger people. They sent a message to people all around, those were not that informed in magic, that they had imported new foreign artifacts and goods in order to bring life to adventurerhood and the country, showing that after everything they had lost, this was a new era of opportunity. What they were convincing was more than just the citizens, but they were drawing opportunity elsewhere from abroad. People were coming to invest in this open land that promised an even bigger version of itself to arise from the ashes.

In other words, with loss came a new era of investment. Many properties and long-established things were now gone, so it was an open slate for investment, given that the city institution itself still had a rich legacy of expertise on how to raise a city well, with only that weakness of being vulnerable to very rare catastrophic events like the Just. As long as people didn't believe that an incident like the Just could happen again, then developers would only see a free space to make income-generating initiatives that could potentially appreciate significantly in value only the course of a decade; creating an ecosystem of community support. The clean slate was even better because awkwardness and wrongs in the details due to organic growth were gone, making way for an even more robust systematic methodology to create rectilinear patterns around the city.

Turning focus to issues and their counterparts, resource scarcity could be met by investment; political tensions could be navigated due to people needing each other, resulting in new political ties from abroad that didn't exist before; and social disparities could be addressed in this time of correction, even if the actual changes were minimal. However, given that Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair was a pillar of the immediate post-crisis, maybe addressing inequalities was possible to a satisfactory degree of improvement.

Returning to Goldberg, he was just one instrument.

The monster attacks by the Succubi was also being portrayed as a sign of resilience on the city's part, since the monsters only destroyed the barriers about which Priscilla, Goldberg's wife, announced before. The adventurers who had lost their lives were not being pinned on Goldberg; in fact, the government provided eye-catching financial aid to their families, hoping that they kept their mouth shut in the face of their unaided neighbors who saw these open money-handover processions. If any did speak, younger people who had finally become empowered by this idea of newness with the New Adventurers that promoted young values, ideals, goals, and objectives since almost all the senior adventurers were now gone shamed them to oblivion. Indeed, the New Adventurers (NA) were associated with youth. If this was an electorate, they got all the young voters.

To conclude the use of the youth, the city heads used financial aid to victims' families, youth empowerment campaigns, and vilification of dissenters to shape the public narrative. Furthermore, the youth were directed to attack old customs, old culture, old habits, and old ideas; the notion "Adventurerdom must live" even if the members of the NA had to die was hammered into them.

The city heads did this to preserve their authority.

Furthermore, Goldberg was not being faulted for losing adventurers under his command, because he had neutralized the Just. As mentioned before, since he was an adventurer and not a prisoner or a goblin like the rest of the members of the team that had defeated the Just, he was selected and presented as the sole victor over the Just.

All this was happening simultaneously even if regular people like Billy, Notch, and Shadrach and their apprentice miner trainer only wanted to live comfortably.

But Shadrach was already in talks to become a part of the New Adventurers as a scribe or the like within administration, because the adventurer friends of the trainer, who hanged out with the apprentice miners, were members of the New Adventurers.

Returning to the moment, delving into the other apprentice miners, they were Ethan, Sophia, Noah, Liam, Alexander, Oliver, Ava, Jackson, Benjamin, and Nathan.

Relocating to Ethan's perspective, he walked around, expressing himself in the most normal manner when he encountered a young gentleman in the middle of the forest. That gentleman was the bothered Nameless, who was supposed to have to have his peace and quiet in order to the focus on the coming goblin invasion. Though, Ethan was curious, and he was also tasked to go here because apparently, apprentice miners were included in a host of apprenticeships who were apparently also encouraged for use in menial tasks like talking to weirdos like Nameless to get him out of there and start training. They knew about Nameless, and they saw that he hid powerful strength. But the problem was that he was thinking in terms of the long term. He was planning and strategizing for a long term event—the goblin invasion. So that wasn't going to happen any time soon. So the city state decided: "Why not now?"

The Nameless guy decided, "Let's go!"

And Ethan was like, "Okay, let's go I guess!"

Nameless super-ran and flew somehow because he was so fast.

Ethan was so fast too and he knew he could fly metaphorically.

They ran like kids and dashed off to the horizon, where the city state was like: "Sure, bruh, we can have you, man. Just chillax for a sec., and we can have some fun."

Woohoo! They were, like, so fun and everyone was like, "Yeah baby!"

It was really nice to see them move around, I guess.

Their hearts were flying around in different directions, because it was just that fun.

At the city state, the government bros were like: "Hey man, we can accept, but like chillax I guess. We'll be sending you to a strategic location. You know what that is? It's a cool place for people to hang out and have drinks and, and fun! It's for you guys, you know!"

Ethan gave the biggest bro fist he could ever give, and he and Nameless ran off super-fast.

They headed to the "location of interest" mentioned by the government men, and they were so excited.

Explosions erupted, and they were wowed, jumping so high.

The people there came and approached them and said: "Yo, bro, we're going to help you. But chillax for a second." They kept saying "chillax for a second" like it was Cool Day Tuesday.

Ethan sat down, and the chair was so fancy. He felt like he was God or some king from far away lands. Foreign lands. And cool lands.

He actually didn't understand what was actually happening, but he was excited.

Ethan saw a cool knight dude say, "I am Darkness Incarnate!" And he was so hyped. He wanted to train as well!

Meanwhile, this knight was concerned with decorating his room, as he had lost several buildings in the Just attack. He was thinking that he could replace his acacia lounge chair, mahogany dining table, narra bookcase, mulawin wardrobe first before the rest. Currently, he was playing his role in helping out with cleaning out some of the monsters still abiding within the region and trying to establish locations of interest, or monster spawn hotspots, by controlling the dungeons and their dungeon cores.

Returning to Ethan on a wider perspective, despite his devolution into loving cool stuff during exciting adventurer-adjacent events, he also enjoyed watching earth mages create clay toy blocks and create large structures for entertainment. This was also used to teach children how to use basic earth magic, especially in this pressing post-crisis period. The earth mages first set the scene, introduced the concept, gathered materials, performed the magic, allowed the children to explore and experiment with the clay, incorporated storytelling and role-playing into the clay with clay figures, buildings, land features, and items, encouraged the children to decorate and personalize the clay with leaves, rocks, flowers, and personal items and toys. Once the clay blocks, figures, and other objects dried in the sun or were fired with fire magic, the cihldren could then take them home. It was a beloved yearly event in a sensitive period of restoration. But weekly, they did this with very limited clay, enough to make a few figures per child. Overall, this played a significant role in Ethan's upbringing.

Shifting gears to Sophia, she wanted to go outside, but it was "troublesome and tiresome," a phrase her father often said.

She didn't feel like going outside, and it was because her father forced her to stay up and carry rice bags inside the house.

Today, she had to go to the mines, but she didn't feel like it.

She was happy that she could sit down and walk around.

She was hoping to meet her friends, but they didn't like her after what she said.

She was sad, but she also didn't know.

She would contact the other apprentice miners, but she didn't know.

Her relatives were also coming, but she was too tired to greet them.

Her mother wanted her to play with them, but she didn't want to.

Maybe, it was because she saw monsters.

But maybe her father was right.

He said that everyone comes to a point where things start to blur and people start seeming like monsters themselves.

She didn't think monsters were bad.

They were just evil.

Humans could be bad, and her cousins were always mean, telling her that she was ugly when she wasn't looking.

But they were younger than her.

And she had to be mature.

She looked at her father, who encouraged her to keep her focus up and become the queen-god, a name he half-jokingly referred to as.

Her father was always right. He always listened. And he always gave her the chance to explain herself.

She would never give up!

Zooming out to a panoramic viewpoint, now that Ethan and Sophia were explored, Noah, Liam, Alexander, Oliver, Ava, Jackson, Benjamin, and Nathan remained.

Diving into Noah, he was sitting down, gently pressing his arm against the sand. He didn't really have anything left to do. He was trying to meditate using the sand.

For context, his family were Gnostics, but they were involved in a particular sect of Gnosticism that many other Gnostic groups would consider invalid.

He was educated in the teachings personally, so he knew how to read and write. He was often asked to recite statements from the sacred texts, and he would offer a more personal perspective to help less pious teenagers his age connect more with the Word.

He was more learned than Shadrach, but he focused his God-given gifts on his sect.

Zipping into one of his many encounters with God, when he heard the sound of heaven broke out, the spirit broke out. He broke our walls down. Pleroma came down.

The sound of children, youth, and men crying and shouting how they wanted to see His realm here. How they wanted Him to break their walls down.

The children were crying. They were looking for answers. Why did they feel so much joy? They later realized that He was really God.

The youth, crying, amazed. How did He forgive them? Why did He forgive them? They also realized that He was truly God.

The men and women, crying, still amazed after all these years. He couldn't believe it! How could Someone love someone like them? Like him?

He didn't feel like he belonged here, but if Someone like God tells him, "Look to me, as I am the author and finisher of your faith."

He had no words, and he fell into His awesome presence.

Well, he had backstabbed Him too much times to count.

He just kept on sinning even if he knew His grace was impossible, but this was different.

Now, he just wanted to stay here in His presence forever. Now, he wanted to go out and share the sacred texts, and help others feel this true joy too. Now, he didn't want to be alone. He wanted everyone he knew to see God's goodness. He didn't want others to feel the negativity of this world. God was so good that he could never have to feel ungrateful again. There might be times he fell, and there might be times he did mistakes. But, one day, he would be perfect according to God's purpose for him, and that's what he was longing for.

But he wasn't just his beliefs. Yet he was nothing without God. It wasn't about him. It was about Him.

Transitioning to Liam, he was in a state of mild shock. He had just drowned a kitten after trying to quench its thirst. He stood up and looked around, finding that the world was that much more pragmatic. This would impact his life and remind him that kittens could die, but more than that, that he could kill.

He wasn't his circumstances though. He got up and walked around himself, happily engaged in the moment. He knew that time could only last so long before it diminished and dissipated.

He climbed a hill and sighted his father cutting down banana trees.

He passed by him and kept going, noticing long-tailed macaques in the distance.

He ignored them and kept going. He used his magic to create various handles on a tree and climbed it.

He was the only apprentice miner who could climb this far up.

He was his capability.

Progressing to Alexander, he ran from side to side, avoiding the attacks made by his friends.

They struck him on the chest, making him bleed.

He grabbed them before throwing them down.

He was big, so his purpose was told to lay in his strength.

But he loved flowers and the sun.

He never wanted to be a fighter for entertainment.

After the fight was interrupted, adventurers rounded up the people present and had them go to jail. They also included Alexander in the count, bringing him to prison.

It was an illegal fighting ring.

Moving away from Alexander to an omniscient view of the whole group, Ethan was with Nameless engaging in a specific task as a break from mining training; Sophia was in a transitional period, growing up and dealing with changes within her personality; Noah was a spiritual man; Liam was a very self-willed and active person compared to his other apprentice miners; and Alexander was naturally strong and had been part of illegal fighting rings.

Chapter 37 - The Fate of Charles Finch
To start from a broad angle, Oliver, Ava, Jackson, Benjamin, and Nathan remained unexplored.

Moving on to Goldberg, he found himself at a loss. Groups of goblin slaves were coming back to him. He thought that they has escaped, but he saw that the adventurers sent out to catch them had returned with them.

Earlier, when the adventurers neared the goblins, many of the goblins said to their leader, "Didn’t we say to you in Antipolo, ‘Leave us alone; let us serve the humans'? It would have been better for us to serve the humans than to die in the rainforest!" This was what caused the adventurers to catch them finally.

Returning to the present, he walked around, eating ube halaya, a dessert made from ube, or purple yam. He was unable to be bothered to approach and give attention to the goblin slaves and the adventurers accompanying them.

Proceeding to another aspect, Goldberg was with the members of his patrol procession, including guards. As per usual , he wasn't with any officials and representatives today, except for one minor representative who wanted to cultivate bonds with Goldberg himself. Though, Goldberg knew that the reason representatives and officials didn't really focus on him was because it was an open secret that he was merely a puppet. But the minor representative took a risk and came with him on several occasions, using the opportunity to build rapport.

He was more comfortable, but he wasn't out of the water yet. He still had many responsibilities to which he hadn't become accustomed.

So he would drown in them for now.

Shifting to Oliver, he was arranging items in a stall, having been called to take the role of one of the staff. He didn't really know how to farm produce, but he was there because he knew how to handle customers and guide them toward buying produce. So since he was socially efficient, he often was able to bring multiple conversations together and have people from different backgrounds find commonality and a sense of community. He brought people together, being the well-oiled machine that kept others drawn to his platform. The produce became an incidental underpinning of this platform, in a similar fashion to buying coffee at a cafe as a secondary goal and networking with various clients as a primary objective.

Switching to Ava, her eyes were peeled, as she aimed a bow, using her powerful muscles to draw it. She shot several targets simultaneously by creating several arrows magically in addition to the original one, breaking them with her magically-enhanced arrows.

She shot again, breaking apart a target shaped like a human.

She shot for the third time, destroying a goblin-resembling target.

She was being trained to fight, and this was just basic training for her. Her mentor trained her alongside 300 others; this was paid.

Transferring over to Jackson, he began preparing items, as his parents were part of a large logistical infrastructure of city drainage repairs. These repairs coincided with drainage systems, which extended across underground dungeons rooms. These drainage systems were much more advanced, making it easier for people to live more hygienic lives. But it required much participation from a host of adventurers and specialized workers to maintain.

After helping his parents leave finally, he headed to the mines, meeting Benjamin and Nathan on the way.

At this point, one month had passed since the day Maverick died.

Zooming into the mines, Billy was quickly dismantling an artifact that they located in a tunnel wtihin the cave system. Earlier, it was hard to grab it because he was afraid it was a trap, but with the help of Nathan, he was able to escape the eye-singers and take the artifact. They eventually showed it to their trainer, who immediately walked to get an artifact artificer, but Billy offered his hand-work to open it, emphasizing his strength in fingers. But it was because he finally found the equivalent of a reward for the harsh challenge of mining, so he didn't want to waste the opportunity. When their trainer agreed, Billy began opening it, taking 5 minutes. When it opened, it let out an old metallic smell. It held an orb, something all artifacts held inside. So he took it out, but it was lifeless. Showing it to the trainer, Billy went outside to breathe. He was a little stressed, disappointed that the orb was dead. The trainer did warn him earlier to get his hopes up too much. But he was sad.

Nathan was sitting down, looking outside, his arms red with makeshift bandages. He was already getting stronger, because Billy had given him a spell after he showed him his holographic list of skills and spells.

Nathan's new skill was [Mining Affinity], and that was why he was so powerful, every strike thunderously opening new loot boxes of opportunity. Each stone presented a challenge, and he vanquished it with ease, his form elegant and almost arrogant with how fast and quick he disassembled it. He ran around, slashing stones, pushing forward and creating tunnels. He was not unhappy with this situation, a smile shivering on his face. He needed it more and more. But now he was at rest.

Shadrach was not there, but he was there with them in spirit and through the notes he had given them, detailing advice upon advice of past events and lessons learned. It was more a philosophical expression of ideas in simple words, but it did hide injections of beautifully written explanations that helped them stay committed in spite of the lengthy pauses they had to endure periodically whenever a pocket of monsters were discovered. Hired adventurers would come in and take hours to kill them before the miners were allowed to progress to the next chamber. It was a slow process, and mining couldn't be done in a continuously absentminded manner. It had to be done with strategy and patience, interspaced by long breaks.

Billy, Nathan, Shadrach, and the rest of the apprentice miners who had witnessed the death of their fellow 48 apprentices were in a state of pause, and only time could tell when the gravity of those effects would manifest in full. But it was already there inside them. Some became much more pragmatic; some held on to their childhood even more, paradoxically resulting in them maturing even faster; and others were successful in maintaining their sense of self while hiding the version of themselves that had seen that traumatic incident.

Moving on to Charles Finch, he hit several goblins, sweeping them off their feet and pushing them further out. They couldn't catch him with his new powers and stronger, athletic young body. He cast lightning, felling them and slashing them down with bouncy impacts. He swirled, moving sideways and catching their attention and forcing them tight together before unleashing his lightning to consume their lifeforce via magically destroying their body. At the end, he stood alongside James Boulevard, who was huffing and catching his breath with a smirk.

James and Charles climbed up the steps to a large hill, where they oversaw a large region. They didn't know it, but they saw the tree that Liam climbed earlier. And it was below them.

They looked up again, seeing the mountains surrounding them in a distance, while they lay isolated, but with each other. They were also with the rest of John Roger's proxy adventurers. So they continued down to locate the goblin necromancer who killed many of John Roger's men before.

They climbed back down, returning to the world. Today, they would eat the dirt and crawl. That way, they would kill their enemy.

This was their destiny—to be humble to be calm.

They began clothing, arming, armoring, and encouraging each other and themselves, forging a path onward.

Later, one among the goblins targeted by them squealed, as his torso was shot through with a harpoon. One of the proxy adventurers was a master of harpoon-fighting.

The harpoon drew the goblin's fragile body to the adventurers, as their feet met the body and blood. They would not stop here. No.

They would press onward.

The goblins armed themselves, but they did not comfort each other because their existence was death.

They ran up and jumped, charging without pause.

It was their life, and it was their first and final death.

The goblins were massacred, and the adventurers sustained some vertigo here and there due to the mental magic employed by one goblin mage.

The goblins fell to the earth, as they were rounded up and cast into cages where their existence was now behind bars.

The adventurers left, their backs facing the goblins' rageful expressions.

But these expressions were temporary, soon replaced by dullness and nihilistic loss.

Meanwhile, the adventurers' faces smiled at each other, their clothes dancing in the wind, their armor cold and tyrannical in its systematic protection of brutal men, their weapons the divine master that ruled their lives, unable to be defied and controlled. They contorted their expressions according to their wishes alone.

The goblin necromancer stood before them, his form blurry, his eyes sharp. He shot down an adventurer—two, three, four, five. By the time he shot down eight adventurers in total, the adventurers grabbed him and neutralized him swiftly.

The lives of their lives of their lives were made null and void.

Charles fell to the earth, his life escaping him. He had lived a long life, and nothing ever made sense. But today, he chose to conclude his own life on his own terms. He had a long journey, sure, but that journey was now over. This world chose him, and he chose his destiny today to die.

That death was sudden, but his life was never sudden, always surprising surely but never so coherent that he would dare declare defiance against this consistency of suddenness.

He fell away, his whole life flashing before his eyes.

And he wasn't saved, being only one of John Roger's many attempts at experimentation and uplifting nobodies into his hierarchy to see what they would do.

Charles choked in his last breath, as the blood pooled in his mouth. His eyes were reddened, and the adventurers surrounding him spoke in hushes voices about something else entirely. He would soon fade into the abyss. He wasn't able to reach out and catch it.

He would do it. He would do everything. He would save the world.

And cadence. He died.

The mockery of this earth subsumed him to form a new creature in the form of life—a baby with the mind of a young man from Earth was birthed.

This was the only thing to pass by, transitioning from one life to the next. This was coherence at its most suspected.

Whether this was reality or not was up to choice.

But soon enough, the ringing bells would come screaming in the ears. The pain would be too much to bear. And a breakdown could occur.

This was reality at its closest.

Charles Finch screamed in hell, bursting on the floors; wishing that he could escape. But there he lay, unable to save the children he had wished to save.

He raged upon the floor and devils poked him, tying him up and dragging him.

He finally ended it—his journey.

Was he ever there?

Charles sat down, poked by torturous nails and stabbing objects.

He took it and screamed as he thought about the blue sky.

He hated his death, but that was because it was too painful now.

But he lowered himself and began to crawl, his arms pressing against sharp features of the floor. He pressed forward, his limbs shaking with excruciation. His skin was being grabbed and pulled back intensely, ripping seams and causing him to bleed through large pores in his body. He proceeded, his heart clinging to the idea of change, as he screamed timely again and again. He fell apart. But within his body, he leapt out in the form of a ghost, lingering long enough to form another body. He kept walking, but this time, he was not hit by the sharp objects and nails. He was translucent and unable to be touched. He kept walking on the floor however, allowing him to reach his destination—a makeshift seat of rock.

He sat down and began to cry, pondering about his forced existence.

He never wanted to go to hell.

But he did.

He accepted it and stopped crying. Today, he would understand what it meant to live inside a dungeon jail cell.

This was not hell.

It was a temporary place for him.

He would soon go into an even worse floor. That would be true hell.

He disappeared into the torture.

The Just brought him back into consciousness, shaking him. "How are you, Sir?" he said, his polite tone surprising Charles.

Charles had seen many tortured souls here, but he had never seen one as composed and polite as this man.

The Just tried to remove the pores in his clothes by rubbing them, wishing that they would suddenly supernaturally disappear. But he accepted reality and knew that he would have to deal with it for now.

He was more interested in catching someone conscious enough to deal in conversations. If he could spend his time here in a less idle way, then his might would not be eroded overtime. This might had relied on focused hope. He needed not remove hope.

Charles smiled almost, but he was afraid because he knew the Just.

The Just took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then opened them.

Their eyes were fixated at each other, and their journey would continue onward from here.

Distancing from them and heading into a wider scope, hundreds of monsters and humans inhabited the dungeon floor, hellish fires and devils stabbing at them and bleeding them out until they regenerated. This process repeated and repeated, no one there to stop them.

Chapter 38 - Convergence and Collaboration: Uniting Forces in a Shifting Landscape
Entering into Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair's current life, he was sitting in a very large room full of various representatives of various parts of the city. Each representative made sure that his reach was secure. He was also one represenative, as he was not head of state. That would be the King, who sat down, wearing purple and yellow layers of clothes.

He didn't want to bore himself too much, so he kept his focus acute by rubbing his arms again and again, having picked this habit up from seeing Millie and Shadrach do it multiple times in the past.

After this cabinet-like meeting, Nathaniel left. He was only introduced after having only been at the sides secretly influencing the decision-making behind the scenes for a week.

Shifting to another aforementioned unnamed perspective, a young girl began using her fire to smelt ores and help traveling blacksmiths out as a camp follower. Officially, she was a camp follower, but effectively, she served a minor role within the division of blacksmiths. This became the case after her doctor father and geomancer mother were introduced as a part of this new military force.

This military force had a very different role compared to the adventurers, as their particular battalion was part of a larger amphibious assault against monster invasions within an archipelagic sea, which attacked in a similar way to barbarian migrations. However, this was done with the understanding that success was temporary and the vacuum left be defeated monster tribes or groups would be filled by new ones. Indeed, they would have to draw back immediately and focus on cohesion and consolidation, not allowing the city-state to spread out too much that the monsters could defeat them by isolated and remote detail. This was why the barriers announced by Priscilla signified an isolated and small but important step forward. In conclusion, the human army recognized the need to counter the monsters' tactics, regardless of their level of organization.

Returning to the young girl, she walked around, carrying a heavy bucket with both her arms. Her doctor focused on physical improvements for her to mitigate effects of a lack of exercise, even as she improved as a fire mage. Her mother agreed with him, being the one to inform her husband that she had struggled physically due to being trained excessively in geomancy, which resulted in her being not as well-rounded. It was the doctor who allowed her to become more balanced, yet it was also her specialization that connected their family to the military, marking an opportunity for the both of them to excel in different ways. The young girl was the product of the familial perspective pooled by both.

As she continued to unleash her talent, the army progressed gradually, switching directions several times in only a few hours.

Delving into the tactical maneuvering aspect of this scene, when an organized monster group they had eyes on began marching antagonistically, the adventurers used the rainforest and the hills to navigate and find a better position in which to fight. The monsters backed off before they tired out, resting. This happened over 10 times. No one could chase out the other. Monsters might be fast, but humans could march for longer. Both sides had long-range magic abilities, which they used. But magic shields nullified artillery, making air superiority very complex. Moreover, usually, small unit tactics was more feasible in this tropical rainforest mountainous environment. However, larger singular groups were still possible, since magic could keep the team cohesive and tight while still dynamic internally. Magic like mobility spells, communication magic, terrain manipulation, warding magic, and logistical support allowed more flexibility in a large group. As for the insistence on oneness, magic were more precise and concentrated in droves than in detail, as the enemies could tighten up and use magic shields, effectively rendering any poking attacks negligible. They also used internal lines to reduce and compartmentalize mortar-like effects. Similarly, they separated and compartmentalized internally in a rectilinearly bouncing manner to discourage attacks that rested upon a tight internal enemy formation for efficacy. On a more nuanced level, when stationary objectives and vulnerabilities were relevant, that complicated dynamics. However, the armies' concern actually was to ward the area and accustom themselves to the area. So it was more so a battle of accumulating control and keeping an eye out for opportunities to attack, progressing toward controlling strategic locations and objectives. It basically meant accumulating advantage overtime until the enemy force was forced to fight head-on at pivotal points. It basically meant increasingly accumulating advantage until the enemy force was forced to fight head-on at pivotal points. In other words, they maneuvered, probed, established a presence, and poked and wore down the enemy; setting up favorable conditions to force more direct confrontations on their high ground, which required finesse in tempo, big picture thinking, and smaller-scale combat mechanical skill. Unfortunately, this level of human commandership had been unavailable during the Just's attack. In conclusion, the young girl played a small but special role in something bigger than herself, and that gave her a sense of purpose, place, and pride in opposition to a chaotic, nihilistic world, her parents striving alongside her.

Moving on to a separate section, throughout the constant movement and direction switching, the young girl, whose name was Isabella de la Cruz, and the rest of the camp followers had to be quick.

Shifting to the monsters, they included various goblin tribes: Marchacha goblins, Jacobean goblins, Ralson goblins, and Colobus goblins, among others.

The Marchacha goblins, being rather unorganized and full of various individuals rather than a top-down organizational structure, stood around a giant boulder.

The Jacobean goblins, full of golden accesssories and poly-colored clothes, sat down on the ground with their legs crossed and heads bowed, walking the fine line between maximalism and humility.

The Ralson goblins stood behind several magically modified catapults, using them as a sign that they were superior to humans, even though they had stolen that originally from humans themselves.

The Colobus goblins were incredibly large, wearing simple clothes, but they were the one with the most artifacts, being collectors who hunted down artifacts from dungeons underground the most. They controlled the region, being the father who brought all of these goblins here.

But these goblins made up only one aspect of the monsters.

Returning focus to Billy and the rest of the apprentice miners inside the city, he heard a horn sound that was heard throughout the region; the Succibi monster waves had finally ended with the last wave monsters being killed.

This marked a new stage, not just for people but for mining, as more resoucres would be channeled into it.

Speaking of which, examining the miners of the city, not the apprentice miners, they continued their journey underground, entering a new large floor connected to various huge tunnels and chambers, with one chamber containing a large pool of water where divers monsters hung to the walls and lounged around on the floor.

Eventually, a young adventurer, Divrese, was busy helping an innkeeper enter into an artificially created tunnel on this new floor. They were here because they wanted to get a specific artifact in a dungeon. They were told that it would be here, and it was.

But even if it was glowing on a pedestal, it was in a chamber partitioned into different levels, holes, and parts, with spikes.

In the meantime, Billy and the other apprentice miners were above the new floor, cooling themselves with fresh water. This was their big world surrounding them, so Billy had been right about there being opportunity beyond the walls with the inclusion of the new floor.

Billy began striking rocks, moving them to containers and then to wagons. There, they grabbed several footstools that would be used for the trainer, the adventurers, and some of the resting apprentice miners—which were originally used by Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair—and sat down on the wagon next to them holding onto them to keep them balanced. It was heavy, but on the journey home, they were excited to get some rest finally.

Nathaniel's familiar adjutants stopped their wagon.

Billy was surprised to see them, getting out first before Nathan, Sophia, Oliver, Noah, Liam, Jackson, and Benjamin. As mentioned before, Ethan, Ava, Shadrach, and Alexander were absent, but Noah, Oliver, Sophia, and Liam were able to catch up last second to the mines earlier in the day.

They were being made to visit Goldberg, who finally began to see Nathaniel more and more since Nathaniel's official emergence. Nathaniel was the one who initiated with Goldberg and many others, hoping to promote support for mining entrants with the introduction of the new floor. This floor was also a hotspot for adventurers, so Goldberg immediately agreed to collaborate. Nathaniel had finally gotten in touch with Goldberg's former companions, the prisoners and the Marchacha goblins. He was pushing against the adventurer-monopolized narrative, and the former companions, who were part of the team who had killed the Just, would aid in that effort.

Changing to Goldberg, he stood in a large courtyard, accompanied by a host of adventurers, industry leaders, and officials. It was a very safe place.

Nearby, Catherine, Samuel, Joseph, Benjamin, and William, the former prisoners, and the representative of the Marchacha goblins, Kahul, were finally included in an official capacity.

And Nathaniel was instrumental in that, spreading the message of their essential part in defeating the Just to the everyday people, with whom he had established a pivotal relationship as a savior and pillar; showing an alternative route for those disturbed by the sudden shift brought about with the New Adventurers. This forced the city authorities to help Nathaniel, as the everyday people were already convinced and excited.

So it resulted in this event, which had been set up hastily due to the abruptness of the reactions to the suddenness of the New Adventurers and Nathaniel's timely broadcast of his message.

That was why it was held in a courtyard. Though, the city authorities would have preferred to prepare it at a purpose-built venue, but they also wanted to contain it and keep it tucked away from the public eye since they had limited time and space. If they did have a purpose-built venue prepared months prior for it, they would have chosen that, but this was the best they could do it for an official gathering.

Zooming in to the apprentice miners, they were busy pushing and arranging the items on the wagon to ensure that it didn't fall off. But they were also pushing the wagon and the items' limits by leaving them out in the sun. This event didn't have a place for everyday laborers with wagons, reserving them for the officials.

Incidentally, since today was a big event, a familiar task master, Sprutnoa, stared in the crowd, having supported Nathaniel as well. Even if he wanted to work and work, the aftermath of the Just shifted his priorities and made him more flexible, helping out his fellow laborers in recovering. He might have been a strict person who cared for hierarchy, but the hierarchy had changed. And he was personally glad to see the arrogant adventurers getting cucked (with a cucking stool).

Returning to the apprentices, they entered, reuniting with Nathaniel.

Nathaniel smiled, his wife and children present inside with the rest of the delegation families. Some of the officials themselves had lost lots of buildings in the Just's attack, so they made use of official buildings as a place for their families to stay. This was what Catherine, Nathaniel's wife, made a point when she came with her children.

Moving on to a new friend-enemy of Nathaniel, naturally, John Roger was here, and he was the one of the reasons for the rise of the New Adventurers. But he also didn't extend all of his effort toward it, as the New Adventurers espoused consolidation of all adventurers, which included independents and proxy adventurers such as those belonging to John.

Speaking of which, his proxy adventurers were here, including Elizabeth, Mary, Sarah, and James Boulevard, excluding the late Charles Finch.

They all looked forward, sweat dripping down the sides of their face, the sun beating down on their face, their hearts throbbing tensely.

The event would soon commence.

Chapter 39 - Under the Sky of Reflection: Finding Closure in the Embrace of Silence

Author's Note

I apologize for the 7-min delay. Also, this is a particularly short ## Chapter; though, even with this, my word average is still about 2600 when it should be 2500. In the end, I think allowing the story itself to experience moments of rest in this manner is still within the story's vision. I appreciate your understanding.


Charles, the Just, and now Maverick, the person who had started it all, sat down around a campfire in a hellish landscape. They were accompanied by two others, two bandits. In the distance, hundreds of humans, goblins, and all sorts of different humanoids and monsters roamed around, many discussing in groups. It was break time, and hell was currently frozen over to signify that.

In this world, hell continued for seven days and seven nights before resting on the eighth day. Then it repeated.

Their conversations were loud, but they were too far away.

Back in the normal world, at the event, several guards walked inside, accompanying an imprisoned humanoid.

A man displayed this shackled humanoid, saying, "This is a calfear, a creature from the far north. He is here because we have located him deep in the northern dungeons where the walls are paper thing and the structure shifts without rest. He represents a path forward to explore new horizons for our far-north adventurers."

A woman, who wasn't supposed to be talking, said: "The city only had so many resources to spend, and we're spending on these New Adventurers, who want to explore some hellish landscape that only began circulating due to Nathaniel's companions?"

"Nathaniel's companions" here referred to the former prisoners and the Marchacha goblins, but they didn't know that their identities, only that the information came from them. It was an accidental leak to the New Adventurers, and there's been a new rise in focus toward the exploration division of the adventurer guild. What used to be only dreams and scraps were now being considered heavily as part of the new agenda.

The rest of the people kept the silence and ignored the woman, moving forward with the event. The heated aspects were memorable for those relevant and in close proximity, but they were actually only very incidental and mostly ignored by most of the attendants. It was the usual beat of more formal events.

This made it difficult to create changes in the current government, but it also kept things stable.

Nathaniel was being made into a prop piece, and that was why he was present. He was more a threat when he was hidden and tucked away as an underdog and not given a chance to speak officially while still maintaining a strong influence among the people. If he was given a chance to speak, there was potential in his own self-erosion. The more he spoke, the more he was likely to make mistakes. They wanted to reveal him for the person he truly was and break the mystery and symbolism surrounding him. This way, they could toss him away like a dirty rag. Indeed, he was a hero, but his current agenda was piercing into what was supposed to be a more stable, growing conflict between multiple sides.

But the leaders, many of which were united despite their conflicting interests, had to be very cautious if this was their intention.

Nathaniel also wasn't the sole issue. They had to keep track of John Roger, who was part of a growing aspect of the landscape. His views with regard to keeping private adventurers hid a very troublesome contradiction to their future plans.

It was a many-side thing.

Shifting to Billy, he smiled, laughing at Notch when he dropped his apple in a humorous way.

Notch looked around. "It's a pretty place, no?" he said.

"Yeah, adventuring is so fun like molten lava! And I can only the magicking that, you know, people said there was supposed to be."

"Right," Notch said before shifting to a tone of confidence. "I have the best plan."

Billy and Shadrach looked at him. They had been merely deputies of Maverick only a month ago, but today, Notch was doing it again—that same tone of voice that they hadn't heard in a while combined with their current tense environment reminded them of day 1.

Notch sauntered forward, his face bare for people to see.

Billy and Shadrach didn't follow him this time.

Notch approached Nathaniel, who was currently unattended by anyone.

Meanwhile, Sprutnoa was outside in the streets among large crowds of people, holding onto the magical artifact Maverick had hit him with.

Returning to Notch and Nathaniel, they sat down, watching the nobles. "How are you?" Nathaniel said.

"I was..." Notch said, trailing off when he saw the calfear humanoid from earlier passing by. He continued, "I was with everyone... We're doing fine. We're all here. Your people brought us here."

"Yeah, I could bring people with me, and they said they were hoping for me to bring many friends and companions. So I did."

"Okay."

"Yeah..."

"Do you still remember when Millie was here?"

Nathaniel paused. "Sorry? Millie, who's that?"

Notch subtly opened his mouth in shock before composing himself. "I... She was the guard with us before... when we were still..."

"Oh, my bad. I know her, I know her. It was before that, right."

"Yeah. Before that."

After a long pause, Nathaniel's face shifted from a genuine smile, to growing tension, to sadness, to grief, to realization, and acceptance. "Yeah."

Notch didn't know why this person felt so different from what he looked like, but he saw someone else when they first met.

Soon after this event started, elsewhere, a wave of goblins entered into an outpost, searching it and bringing the unarmed humans inside to the main floor before killing them with polearms.

Speaking of a wave of goblins, Nameless, who believed that one would come, was worried when he heard about the movements of goblins throughout the region, standing next to Ethan, as they continued to dig trenches, as they prepared for rainwater runoff. Their unit intended to set up camp in this tropical rainforest mountainous area, using magic to do the equivalent of slashing and burning.

They protected only a small portion, but each point of interest and an accompanying control strategy made dynamics throughout the common region much more feasible to manage and maintain the ins-and-outs and ebbs and flows within.

During this time, the city maintained its formal focus in the event, each decision marking completely different futures with a whole set of challenges and frontiers of concern.

Transitioning to the event, John Roger stood, his form like a gladiator. He wore clothes befitting an adventurer, but he wore it like a noble, becoming a gladiator in the eyes of many. His eye-catching nature made it difficult for him to avoid scrutiny, but it also made his presence specially more felt, especially when concerns were splayed and centered at different individuals such as Nathaniel. He proactively considered how well magical behavior came into play with magical concepts such as essentialism and ecologism, but also in facets of bureacracy.

He stood by, being passed by by Billy and Nathaniel.

He knew well that he was only one part of the puzzle, extending his focus to Nathaniel's companions, including the prisoners and the Marchacha goblins. These goblins were portrayed as humans, wearing cloaks that hid their green skin and masked their shorter height. The prisoners blended easily, looking like a warden's family with Catherine as a brought-in child. They looked too assimilar to be her actual parents; though, they were also all biologically male.

John Roger crossed them out from his focus, zeroing in on Priscilla, whose husband was Goldberg and Catherine Orlov Sinclair, whose husband was Nathaniel. They were talking to Goldberg and the representative following him around, exchanging minor information that were prioritized by groups overhearing them behind them on both sides.

He didn't notice Billy's apprentice miner companions.

He returned to his proxy adventurers and reminded them to relax absentmindedly.

As the event cruised by, discussions were held at surface-level, while implications were being shared impactfully. Context determined the difference between a delegation family member and a delegate, so it wasn't hard to share key information. However, from time to time, it leaked out through espionage, given that officials had to contextualize for friends and peers outside office to understand, whether it was part of a joke, a bragging story, or just plain boredom (carelessness).

The night grew lonelier, as the city became more interconnected in spirit, just for this virtual and symbolic moment.

The event ended, sparking a new stage in the city's journey.

People walked home, and nothing bad needed to happen.

It all could be forgotten, and individuals could focus on their own goals.

Even Sprutnoa, who was holding onto a magical artifact, didn't really bother doing anything or thinking seriously about it beyond a week.

Afterwards, Billy returned to normalcy.

He went outside, watered the plants, and remembered what it felt like to be human.

The noise of the public amid the great events happening all around bothered him, so he came here where not a single soul lived except him.

This activity of exploration wasn't as fulfilling or enjoyable as mining and working hard, but it was relaxing, reflective, and unwinding.

He lay down on the grass.

The sky was wide, stretching in two vast directions.

Nameless stood up and climbed a tree before going back down. He didn't need to climb the tree fully. He could leave things unfinished. He didn't need to find closure when it was more feasible to let go when closure was nowhere to be found or when striving for an extreme path to closure only ruined him.

He lay down.

Nathan stared at the sky.

He lay down.

Oliver lay down. The rest of the apprentice miners lay down.

Everyone lay down.

They and rest became friends.

Chapter 40 - Echoes of Progress and Shadow
Notch arranged several different containers, doing this as a way to distract himself, having been put through too much in the first day of his mining training since the event. 

He didn't really want to care too much, which was why he only gave Nathaniel perfunctory responses at the event.

However, it was nice to have seen him again. He couldn't deny that. 

He was also still very young, making it hard for him not to ask questions, so he did ask lots of questions at the event, keeping Nathaniel, the former prisoners, and the Marchacha goblins within asking distance.

After putting the containers together finally, he was asked to look for a specific item and hand it to the trainer.

This was getting hard to keep up, but Billy was positive about things.

Notch did have it easy, and he was improving a lot. But the last few weeks had been tough on him, putting him through so much in a short amount of time. He honestly wondered how Shadrach, the youngest of the trio (Notch, Shadrach, and Billy), was so confident and involved.

But things were going smoothly. It had only been one month, and much had changed. But this was good for him.

He mined quickly, smashing several rocks before grabbing the remains.

He didn't really hate it, and BIlly's new skills and spells were helpful as well. But he and the rest of the apprentice miners all had inherent magic since Goldberg and Milly's attempt at stimulating them safely. People could die if exposed to too much mana in a dangerously concentrated amount of time.

Things were going smoothly. He just had to bear it, but the memories and faces of the 48 apprentice miners who had died wore him down, leaving him naked with fear at times. But Nathaniel had been the binding force that led them together through difficult times, even guiding them to the darkest areas of the cave. But now, they were much more confident, even approaching eye-singers to baiting them into adventurers' arms. Indeed, they were being tasked with acting as bait for the adventurers in order to "test and train" them according to them.

But it was good since the adventurers did teach them about various loots from time to time, so anything they did added up to a social form of scrip. Even if it ended up becoming fruitless in the end, they would have found it worth doing, since they were curious and daring as well, being outgoing boyish teenagers.

Meanwhile, a group of monsters, constituting a chest mimic and two demons, continued down the slope that led to a village, finding their purchase when they struck the trapdoor that led to a tunnel leading inside the village itself. They smiled with joy. This village was a small straw that created controlled space between two junctions that led to a broader inner range controlled by the city, one concerning Ethan and Nameless. It was a minor part, but its eventual destruction could lead to dangerous set-ups here and there in the monsters' favor.

However, even if the group were composed of monsters, monsters were not a monolith. They shared different factions and sides, and they often acted independently. It just seemed monolithic in the view of the humans.

However, any contribution toward human destruction benefitted all human-targeting monstrosities.

A singular individual orchestrating the destruction of the city was present. 

Speaking of which, elswhere, Silavush, an older fish man, was walking down a flight of stairs, having sighted his friends, who wore purple and yellow outfits. Giant 13-meter-tall humanoids frog-humanoids, wearing ornate clothes and various golden accessories donning their wrists, neck, and fingers, stood at a 100-meter-tall door.

He smiled, grabbing their enormous, flabby hands and shaking them, saying that he would have loved to meet them at a better time, lightly hinting that he didn't like that they came days earlier than scheduled.

The frogs were smirking, as one of them handed Silavush a scholl with red stamps and beautifully written geometric text. "We want you..." she said with a deep, gurgly, cavernous voice. "...to check this before we hand you the property."

Silavush nodded politely as he offered a seat, bothered by their insistence on presenting the scroll without a polite rest, dinner, and then meeting in an approrpriate room. He wanted formalities to be respected, since he was raised by a strict landed noble father.

While they talked, earlier, one of the frogs sat down at one of the chairs intended for the human guards, breaking the chair.

Silavush pretended not to notice.

Returning to the present, Silavush led the frogs to a resting room, where they would be given massages and other forms of relaxation with magic as an aid. Though, the frogs naturally had magic shields passively protecting their bodies, but it did allow massages and other non-harmful forms of touch. It was smart and proactive, reflecting their wealth.

Silavush didn't want to bother giving them a dinner after he saw them standing up in the room and looking out the window instead of lying down and relaxing. "Excuse me, are you ladies and gentlemen in preference to specialized equipment?" he asked politely. It was not Millie-level formalness, but it would do.

After the frogs finished their relaxation and ate dinner, they then came to the meeting chamber where they were given reports by orators about the new events of this particular region. The frogs were here to learn and to share their interests in the region.

But Silavush didn't care; however, he didn't want to refuse them, being one with a reputation for being inclusive toward any sort of noble from any region.

He was not the one accepting the requests to send monsters, so he sent them a tiny portion. But this tiny portion was enormous in the eyes of Antipolo city.

He was so powerful, but he was more concerned with keeping things simple, because his main goals related to the portal room that led to different realms. He didn't care about this realm as much, having ascended to the top already.

Anyway, shifting away from Silavush, Billy located a dungeon finished off by Divrese and his innkeeper companion. Many monsters that were supposed to be here were absent. They had been turned into dust.

Billy, being only a dot in comparison to the whole dungeon floor, went back to the human-sized tunnel that he carved into the subterranean landscape. He disappeared back into one of seventy chambers connected by tiny tunnels, making his way back to the chamber closest to the surface. This would take a long time, but it had been some time since they started. Their progress was vast and wide-encompassing. However, it could be easily turned back to solid rock quickly, because it relied on magic to sustain the weight. And it was a lot of weight. So the support pillars were very thick, but they were able to get it there in the first place due to magic.

It looked very scary underground, as the magic used led to orange coloration of the nearby rock, looking like a foreign realm. Even the texture of the rocks and the feel of the chambers felt surreal, dreamy, and disorienting.

When he returned to the chamber next to the surface, he saw Ethan and Nameless talking to the adventurers and his trainer with friendly, casual demeanors. One of the adventurers even placed his hand on Nameless' shoulder. He didn't really mind it, but it made him curious. He wondered if things were going to change from now on.

In the meantime, Goldberg, after heading down various valleys and paths through the forest, came to a mountain finally, having scaled it only once in the far past.

He was already moving to a different stage of his life, one involving exploration as per the New Adventurers' request. It was less of a request, but more so pressuring from their side of the government. It didn't really matter though, since Goldberg hated patrolling around the city anyway. It wasn't for him, and the constant writing at the office made him dizzy. He hated being treated like a bureacrat even if he didn't speak at all. He was just someone being made to look like he was working hard. But he was working hard, so it worked.

Now that he was here at the mountain, it provided respite, allowing him to breathe the fresh air.

Every moment was magical, and new shifts in the world were finally happening, giving him room to breathe.

The event was more than just an event, but it was the first big event since the Just attack that had upturned everything.

He put his hands against a couple leaves. This was the first time he had touched leaves this far outside in years. Today, he was with his kids, but they were not really working or anything. The city leaders had allowed him to bring them, and that worried him for a while. But Priscilla said it would be fine, casting her witch magic on the kids and on him. Moreover, the kids teased him, saying that he couldn't get home on time to the point that they had to eat his share of the food, using that as ammo that they were stronger and could easily go out into the wilderness easily. Because of these two reactions, Goldberg laughed, but he also was reminded again that even with everyone depending on him, his family thought he was silly.

Time was falling short, and everyone was growing slowly. Sooner or later, the world would be a brighter place.

But he had to be wary.

If one person died, that would lead to so many things happening all at once.

Charles Finch was one of them.

His death contributed to John Roger giving up his proxy adventurers that James Boulevard was now with the New Adventurers.

John Roger was now returning to the shadows, while other nobles began claiming the vacuum of adventurism among the officials.

Anyway, Goldberg sat down and began to fish—an activity absentmindedly suggested by some of the officials when he subtly mentioned his boredom with his hero status.  

A river stood before him. Even if it was big and flowing hard, he began fishing there, using the help of one of his companions to make sure that the rod was stable.

The fish underwater were also powerful enough to fight the waves, so when they saw the bait, they tried to get it.

The fish danced in the river, and every moment was special, because they each had the chance of rewarding enchanted items, being a unique feature of fishing.

Goldberg didn't get anything today, and that was okay.

Progressing into another issue, Sarah and Mary stared at Elizabeth, who was still in her undead state after dying to poison. They didn't know how to interact with half of what Elizabeth used to be, and the fact that Charles Finch died under their guidance made things awkward with John Roger, who was no longer their boss. They were now idly sitting nearby, passing by on the other side of the river Goldberg was fishing at. They didn't mind him, heading into their own personal business.

Returning to Goldberg, Evernight and Saddest, two of his current companions, sang a song, soothing him.

Chapter 41 -  Reflections and Realizations: Goldberg's Respite Amidst Turmoil
Goldberg sat down, resting his hand on his laps. "I don't remember sitting here for this long, but today might be a good day."

The sky was bright open around him.

He didn't have to rush things, and he could live in the present.

He grabbed a pickaxe and began attacking a tree with it.

The tree didn't budge, but it allowed Goldberg to relax and get his body going.

Evernight stood next to him.

Goldberg didn't know what else to do right now.

So he got up and placed his hand on his head as a way to get his mind working. He wanted his soul to be free for now.

He lived too long in this dry and weary world.

This was where he had control from the fast life of this world, everything eating him up alive. This was the only time he was able to do something different.

He walked around, finding the trees beautiful. He didn't want to waste too much time here.

But his heart was pulled in many directions.

He soon ended at one idea—he went to a cave and grabbed a crate on which to sit.

He let the air fill his lungs.

Not a single moment wasted.

This was his break.

The wind danced.

He allowed the leaves to flow with it.

He let go of his burdens and past worries.

The time was now.

He had too much time on his hands, and he knew that whatever happened, it would only burden him more.

He lay down instead of forcing something productive to happen.

This break was most productive right now.

He lay down on his belly, keeping his arms supporting his head and face off the ground.

Too many things had happened in one month, and this was his well-deserved rest.

He crawled around like he was a baby.

He approached a tree and grabbed at it like he didn't know how to grasp things with his fingers.

He became like a snail or a worm.

He fully immersed himself in this role.

He was ripping apart the past events on which he had never gotten a sense of true closure.

He lay on his back, appreciating the blue sky, which was mostly empty except for the many, large clouds at the horizon.

He climbed a hillock, almost tripping on the slope.

He had to rush with a limited number of steps lest he lost his balance and momentum.

At the top of the hillock, he looked around, finding his adventurer companions staring at him confusedly.

Goldberg kept walking around with his eyes focused at what was right in front of him or below him, even dancing awkwardly at times.

A color of lights filled the air—the natural landscape enamoured him.

He gradually slept with the earth.

He woke up and returned to resting around, walking like a turtle as he sat down next to a tree on a hillock, holding the tree on it.

The leaves and spiky grass confronted him with warnings of a coming danger.

He stood up, unaware the goblins had arrived at the scene.

The adventurers, troubled, didn't notice that winged goblins were flying above.

"What are those!" said one of the adventurers, casting a freezing spell to block the purple magical attacks aimed at Goldberg.

Goldberg stared quietly before he retreated. He had never been particularly strong in combat, always an adventurer first and a soldier never.

The goblins were in a formation, organized.

The adventurers began falling one by one to the magical onslaught.

Goldberg fell as well, but he was able to escape with the help of a scroll that teleported a mile away.

The world would never hear of the time Goldberg almost died, because a nearby group of goblins grabbed and imprisoned him.

Goldberg stared. "Why am I in in prison again? Are you the Marchachas? Why? Why? I already told you we'd be working together starting today. What happened!"

The goblins were silent.

Goldberg raised his head in exasperation before he flinched with fear at the sudden slamming of his cage against a giant door.

This was the door leading to his new home.

It was a place of development, and many goblins were beginning to harness golem workers.

They wanted Goldberg to verify himself to the golem that all goblins were human enough to be allowed access to the golem's mental control room.

But Goldberg was against the idea of helping an enemy.

However, the goblins were insistent, poking him everyday and night with spikes with the goal of keeping him from repurchasing sanity.

But he was resolute, maintaining his focus in this dark time.

Goldberg calmed his breath, glancing at the smooth way the spikes hit him and how he was struck with ease. The pain was brutal, but he wasn't going to be stuck there forever.

Goldberg didn't want to be rescued, but he also didn't see a way out.

He realized this was not going to be easy, kicking the cages and finding that they opened easily.

The Marchacha goblins' representative, Kahul, emerged and appeared, the goblins who had captured Goldberg lined up and bowing toward Kahul. "This is our Saint, who teacheth us in the ways of the Goblin Goddess."

Goldberg didn't want to understand what he just heard, because he just wanted Kahul to clear the misunderstanding quickly. "Hey man. I really need to get out. I know you're their boss and it can—"

Kahul unlocked his cage and cut him free.

Goldberg saw the light of day again only after half a day. But it was dying and losing its brightness, as the mood led to the night.

He discovered that Kahul had built a pretty home for himself and his fellow goblins.

Goldberg sat down and had tea before he returned to the place where the adventurers had died.

He stared at them before puking. Evernight and Saddest were also dead.

He covered his face.

"I haven't... even begun to tell him where they were going to eat after they returned. And now, they are... It's like their brains are gone." These brains were literally ruined.

Goldberg took a deep breath. "What I should do is report this to the adventurer guild."

There, the guild said they would be sending information-gathering troupes to get a reading or status of a particular area, specifically the place where Goldberg's adventurer companions had died.

After Goldberg returned home, he said hi to his kids and his wife. He didn't think that today could not have gotten any way worse.

At least he was still alive.

He was too detached and disoriented to know what was happening. All the details didn't make sense when put together sometimes.

He rubbed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was then sent to his roll call place, where he would then be moving to many different places.

He visited the barracks, the place where many people ate, the noble estates, and the tree and bee farms where the King served his most delicious honey, among others.

Meanwhile, Billy mined several rocks, finding uncommon ores for the first time after encountering only common cores.

He showed it to the trainer, who said that if he sold it, he wouldn't need to work as a miner. He could work as a merchant.

Billy didn't want that, so he kept mining, an allowance for apprentice trainers emerging in response to this effort.

One of Billy's spells allowed him to see ores 200 meters away through the walls.

Though, he didn't know how valuable it was, but he knew that it could work in favor of the regulations of the city that demanded a limit on how much rock could be removed. Basically, the more streamlined their mining process was, the more less they had to mine to get the ores they actually cared about, which aligned with the regulatory limit. This limit was actually only introduced recently after the Just attack because the city wanted to curry favor with other cities part of a magical sustainability agreement. It was unsolicited, but the city wanted to show they were willing to adapt in order to be the little brother other cities needed in this particular part of the region, given that they were hit very badly in the attack. In a time of post-crisis and recovery, they had to compromise a lot to make sure cities didn't let go of their support and collaboration structures here. Even if the limitations introduced were not necessarily logical, it was compatible with the other cities' agendas—cultural factors, political considerations, and strategic objectives.

Anyway, shifting to Notch, he was getting tired of mining. Even now, he still remembered dragging the scared Billy outside after they did the job with Maverick, but now he was the one who needed dragging to the mines. It was not that difficult, but it was getting boring to him.

He wanted to check out from this apprenticeship altogether, but he didn't have anything else to do. This was his new life now he felt.

He talked to Billy about it.

Billy said: "Hey, Notch, listen up, alright? We gotta keep going, keep pushing through this mining apprenticeship, you hear me? We're almost there, man, almost done with this whole thing. Just gotta keep chipping away, keep hammering down, until we've smashed through it all. I'm talking about real dedication here, like we're on some epic quest or something. Like, seriously, it's adventure time, no kidding around. We gotta charge ahead, fighting on like a soldier, you know? That's where the real magic happens, the best stuff ever. It's like, incredible, exhilarating, unbelievable... Yeah! So let's do this, Notch, let's conquer this mining world together!"

Notch—who had been the one to convince Billy and Shadrach to go on Maverick's job, the job where they first met and worked together—smiled at Billy's words. "Maybe, I will," he said.

After they disappeared into the land and became a part of its fabric, moving on to Goldberg, he continued hunting down a sense of self through it all. It wasn't Notch, Billy, and Shadrach's time to wonder about that, because they were still exploring the world at their young age. Though, Billy was the one most mature, being 18 years old among the 13-year-old Shadrach and 14-year-old Notch—even if he sounded the least mature; it was because he was more mature that he could display a more childishly optimistic and curious demeanor while still understanding internally what was and what needed to be done. Moreover, he displayed himself strategically instead of just trying to appear jaded for the sake of appearance and the perceived status of an adult. To explain this strategy, Shadrach and Notch had gone through traumatic experiences, leaving them a little jaded, and Billy was there to remind them again of what it was like to be a child again strategically through his demeanor to make sure their growth was well-rounded instead of rushed. In any case, Goldberg, being in his late thirties, was old enough to go through streamlined internal explorations marked by in-depth feelings, feeling that all his explorations of the world had temporarily blinded him to his own soul. Today was a good time to relax after all those external changes in his life, even as a father to two kids and a husband to a strong woman.

Meanwhile, Sprutnoa stared at the silence, holding a magical artifact, as he shouted at the laborers in front of him: "Do you seriously, seriously think that this is just one big joking thing. Am I going to sit down and watch you take your little breath and speak? Do you want, do you want to speak? Do you want to experience Nirvana, or some experience. Do you want to... become... a-a-a-a-a dog? Do you want to live a good life and experience Joy Everlasting? Well, try harder." He didn't want them to be impatient and slow near a junction where beasts could come out. Even with the barriers, he wanted to be careful. His method of warning them was by adopting this demeanor.

Shifting to Billy and the rest of the apprentice miners, since their mine was increasing in size. Actual miners were being introduced slowly overtime to get used to the place and begin refining it as a potential adventurer hub, so that meant more action and danger due to the increasing size and vulnerability to monster infestation. In fact, monsters were already there, roaming around in clumps around the tight cave; they were fighting over spots and blocking each other, a continuous brawl occurring there as soon as the mine connected to a larger dungeon cave network.

This took a long time, as the city had limited resources. Even if caves did indeed hold magical resources, they still required time to process, and as of the moment, many mages, including blacksmiths and skilled craftsmen, who processed their own ores and loot had lost their lives in the Just attack. This was why the city was slow at the moment. Their closest ally and supporter in this process was the nearest city, Juntyno city, who invested funds into helping them restore their essential adventuring infrastructure as part of an intention to facilitate interconnectivity between major dungeons across the horizon better. Juntyno's intentions involved ensuring that their adventurers could safely migrate and travel across the region, especially given that Antipolo City bordered various dungeon-rich areas while still being close enough to keep travel costs relatively cheap. 

In the end, everyone was still navigating a world; it could be said that not too much had changed since the day before. But things were progressing gradually.

Author note:

This chapter marks the end of a 10-chapter introduction (chapter 32 to 41) to the second arc. It was intentional that the introduction was more so of consolidation and cohesion-building with its vignette or snippet-scene style and day-by-day overview of the city through the perspectives of the main character per chapter style. The next chapters after that will be a lot more ambitious, involving more in-depth exploration and detail, even more so than the first arc, each chapter consisting of 25,000 words average. This means that this story will no longer be published everyday, but every week.

Chapter 42 - Innocence Unbound: The Resilience of Youth Amidst a Changing World

Author's Note:

Okay, for anyone coming in later, I just realized I had a duplicate of chapter 4 in chapter 5. I might have made a mistake while copying it onto Royalroad. So now, the actual chapter 5 is up. I apologize for the inconvenience. I appreciate your understanding.


When it came to the idea of visions, one adventurer saw a bright light shining in the horizon. As for what it meant, it said: "An army is coming." Regarding his response, he used a sense that this light was guiding him as a promise of good luck. And this vision was real. In conclusion, he contrasted the everyday adventurer who wanted to return home and procure a fresh drink.

Transitioning to a figurative note, the sun rushed down upon the earth, its flashing lights accumulating through the fissures, chasms, and crevices of the cloth fabric of a tent like sediment. 

In an incidental snapshot, within this tent, an older man's buttocks weighed heavily against a flat wooden-chair, the seat of which was hastily nailed, so the man could still feel the gaps between the planks and the nails and irregularities on the chair. 

Continuing the figurativeness with a blend between it and realism, a young woman' fingers fiddled with papers as heavy as rocks, her legs and back pressing neatly against her seat, her hands manipulating the papers' rotations and positions. With a heavy head, her eyes shot over the pile of papers lying below her on a makeshift table; her posture encroaching like a spider entrapping a rod; her shoulders stretching endlessly to make up for the unsuitability of her setup with her body shape. Thirdly, the curtains of the tent flapped against several chests resolutely moved to the edges; the lingering musty and muddy smell a consequence of their intermittent across-the-camp transportation, as the tent was part of a camp. 

In another incidental snapshot, it was also attached to a nearby road leading to a city, so crates and wagons hailed from there. 

Either way, the loud taste of bread danced along the tips of a chair, a chest, and a group of boxes being haggled along by the surface of a trolling wagon. Fifthly, the sunny buttons on men's dresses pressed to and fro like a rowing paddler on a seaside trip. The smell of fresh waters pushed farther and farther up, reaching the hair covers of men's noses and zooming right up inside. Sixthly, the rubbing of fresh seeds rinsing and bathing themselves with water on the pond and the nearby dewy vegetation and leaves scratched a man's ear. Seventhly, the flowery pots made their way downtown, riding a wagon, a gift from the men to their families back home. Eighthly, The sight of fresh reds upon the sunset and idyllic greens of nature combined like knights reunited. Ninthly, the balance of the road trembled as various undulations dug themselves into the green road, withdrawing and releasing the feet of men. Lastly, the gravel and screes yelled in friendly greeting whenever the feet of men shook them.

Diverging into a more grounded camp conversion, in a space between several tents, several adventurers spoke, watching the silence. "Where's Matteo?"

Matteo was hiding in the corner of a bush, his arms resting against his hips, his head lowered, his face still, his mind at ease. Entering into his mind, he noticed that none of the adventurers truly spoke; they only engaged their environment in words. He wondered if this world was fake, and everything he knew wasn't real.

But maybe he was wrong.

Reapproaching reality, the adventurers found him, their gazes wandering by and testing his resolve.

He had been hiding away from the lights, from the people, and from the expectations placed upon him. But now he was, returned to this order of hierarchical life—not freedom of aloneness but freedom characterized by a sense of purpose.

Matteo didn't know what was going to happen. It was just an ordinary day. Nothing had to change. He just wanted to relax and have fun. And he was already struggling as it was. He just needed to relax. Nothing was going to happen.

Drifting away from these people and visiting the perspective of the man inside the tent earlier, he was Goldberg. He sat down on a chair, his lips curled with slight disappointment, determination, and a sense of purpose and place, placing a notepad on a desk. 

As he began to relax, he absentmindedly noticed the scratches, cracks, and grooves on the wooden surface of the many sides the desk visually contained. 

Each imperfection indicated a rich history beyond his years and understanding and memories that never seemed to end; a humanity, personalities upon personalities—humanities upon humanities. 

It stimulated his five senses. First, the sound of his finger brushing and scratching lightly against the wooden surface glimpsed paper, feather, and leather, among other reminiscent materials found on a desk. Second, the bitter taste of wood hailing from memories of biting it as a child appeared on his tongue, leaving a strange aftertaste of emotional raucousness. Third, the texture of both the touch and sound of rubbing his fingers and palms together cast doubt on the idea that he was himself. Fourth, when he made two fingers posture outward with one finger pressing against a nail from the top and another pushing it from the bottom, forming a circular hole, he released the pressure, and it gave him two sensations: a quiet, crisp sound of release and the softened edge of the hard, clean texture of his fingernail after the skin of his thumb rubbed across it. Fifth, he rubbed the folds on the back of his fingers like he did when he was a child, studying the overlapping quality of these folds like armies tied together hanging from the spearhead of a leader. Sixth, the smell of intense street food outside saw the vivid past scenes of patience, hunger, and thirst at many places and events. Seventh, the scale of a tent and how much space his earlier self had playing around while his mother and father focused on work loomed over him. Eighth, numerous people walked outside into his view. He now perceived outside as a place to travel through and not as the magical vastness that he didn't understand yet as a child. Maybe, now, he was still learning. Ninth, whenever his hands touched a quill, he found himself delicately tickling himself with the edges of those feathers. Tenth, he remembered the simple scribbles he did on papers and how often he explored things by drawing them and writing them down, without really understanding the broader decades-long firsthand context of what they meant and could mean. Eleventh, he visualized how it affected his understanding of the world and how every idea became succinct in this focused environment and process. Twelfth, he remembered the thousands of memories of living through this world and how they wrapped up everything while leaving him with a sense of incompletion and disjointedness. These were all things he did and experienced as a growing and learning child. And this was only the tip of the iceberg. All those experiences existed in a tucked-away chest waiting to be opened with the sound of gold jingling. Or maybe they were everywhere in the universe, never to be comprehended again.

Returning to reality, he left the tent he was in and looked outside, seeing a large army in the distance.

"What is point of this?" he said. "Can we end this fight? 

"Why do we each have to fight? 

"Can we not just be friends? In another life, could we have been friends? 

"Please... tell me... where do these memories go? 

"The potential friendships and memories we could have made. 

"The connections that are left wandering through the hollow rooms and the places and areas and beautiful forests that only seek after that sense that maybe there was someone there—a couple of people together, a group, a mass, a community, a love, a life. People together. Are we seriously going to lose this again and again? Tell me... am I going to have to bear this again and again?"

He didn't want to do this anymore.

After having lost, Goldberg felt that it was only right to try again, his fingers wrapping around his quill with will power.

Eventually, at the later battle, he raised his sword formally, while goblins swarmed about, their feet carving the earth and distilling the mud with the sweat dripping down them. They giggled ravenously.

"I am the Demolisher," Goldberg then said, the angels embracing his arms and becoming their wings.

When the goblins approached close enough, he, within range, slashed and sliced before dragging his blade through the earth as a gesture of greatness. His mud-laden sword was smacked against the goblins, dousing them with mud and blinding them with a dots of brown as scattered as a scree of stones.

From the goblins' side, they struck back at him, arrows falling from their bows, flashes of fiery energy bursting out, reflecting transformations and magical awakenings. They were gaining in numerical advantage.

In response, Goldberg gravelly, guttural voice pummeled: "You will not live through this!" He motivated himself first and foremost before releasing the hunting blade.

Automatically, he slashed and removed their heads by splintering their shields, armor, helmets, and neck skin. He pierced these neck skins open into two halves, letting blood taste the blade edge. The sword drank the blood in multiple fulls before flying across the rest of their bodies and turning them askew too.

In the meantime, the goblins stayed behind, raging upon the trees and screeching, while Goldberg advanced forth, raising his hand and mocking them with an offensive gesture.

He launched himself into the fray, breaking and splitting through thick and padded cloth before tapping the bodies. "I am the individual!" he said, retaining a sense of self amid the chaos of the past events.

As soon as he came close enough, the goblins grabbed his blade and pushed it away, distancing themselves. They kept the pressure, discouraging the adventurers' formations' integrity with multi-target magical attacks.

Even after being pushed back, Goldberg slashed them again and again, spinning, whirling along, his sword dashing in perfect synchrony around his arms and through the grasps of his hands in agreement with his arms' motions. It was tender and delicate, but the end result was devastation.

Eventually, however, the goblins put pressure on him, alerting Goldberg to retreat and avoid a direct confrontation for now.

But Goldberg couldn't retreat. Instead, he adapted by dragging his blade against the mud before spraying it against the goblins, giving them pause.

Then, he span his sword, getting momentum.

Now that he had space to move, he chose to retreat, his blade drawing an arc along behind him, as he dragged it back into control.

Simultaneously, from the side, a goblin leapt out, which Goldberg smashed into the ground like an insect before he proceeded running.

As the goblins neared and began attacking him, Goldberg ultimately fell to the earth, having exhausted himself.

From the distance, blasts of magic flew, striking several goblins and freezing them where they choked to death rapidly.

The goblins were armed, running about, the blasts flying and darting upon them. They dodged and avoided it, their forces shifting and churning in formation. They soon came upon a stop, growing slower as time ticked toward the end.

Reinforcements had come.

Suddenly, Goldberg raised his hand. "Let this be the day of vengeance!" Hundreds came following his lead, and he dashed forward, swirling and making a wave across them.

He danced upon Northe Road, moving around, shaking. His hands stretched out and then rotated in a loop. His hands bounced from left to right. He made a wave with his arms, alternating between left and right in a specific pattern: 1-1-2-1-1-2. He raised his head above himself and lowered himself to the ground, bending his knees before standing back up again. He spun around, whirling his arms around, kicking his legs to the back. He began striding in place and swinging his arms in an exaggerated manner, dancing. 

Heavenly might fell upon his arms, his hands flying with clumsy spills, his arm growing in proportion to his faith in this process. Magical particles blessed the swords of the humans, as their arms flew out.

On impact, Goblins fell apart and combusted, exploding in bones, blood, and brain matter.

The first line of goblins were gone, so the rest of the goblins retreated to regroup, sweat dripping down their temples, chin, shoulders, and bellies. Their heart was stuck between life and shock; very energetic.

The goblins began meditating, calling upon the rainy season wind, a gentle breeze rustling through leaves and across grass, accompanied by the soft patter of raindrops on various surfaces.

They wanted to live through this, but they wanted to claim the reward of an adventurer's death.

Goldberg's army kept charging.

However, one of the goblins that stared at Goldberg said, his voice magically intensified in strength: "Do you sincerely believe that we haven't prepared for the likes of you? Or the likes of this battle? We do not wage a useless war. We do not fight on the terms of a need for violence or a need to give you a reputation. We fight because we know our strengths, and those goblins who have given their lives? They were our oldest, and they have chosen to give up their lives to be turned undead and to throw their lives to convince your friends to come. That is why we have won."

The air grew thick with magical fog, as Goldberg and all his allies suddenly fell unconscious.

The goblin who had spoken was a simple-looking goblin named "Roots." He was one of John Roger's new goblin men, as he wanted to establish a paramilitary force outside the state.

Incidentally, if Goldberg was awake, he would have grinned sarcastically at himself and said: "Okay then... Okay then..." 

Anyway, Roots stared, the silence consuming him and everything around him.

He disappeared, and he reappeared as a human being. He could shapeshift, and he was not really a goblin. That was why John Roger hired him. He was an adventurer who helped goblins get in and out of the barriers, but he was originally an adventurer who spied on goblins. But things had changed, and now he was helping the goblins.

Moving to the background and the rest of the goblins, the heat burned the earth, sweat dripping heavily and rapidly.

The goblins wanted to flee from the sun.

But it beamed its rays with hatred. It would not let go, declaring ownership of them.

The adventurers, including Goldberg, were dumped into wagons and dragged away.

Goldberg's still face conveyed the disappointment and nihilistic feelings he would have felt if he was awake and seeing this scene.

Returning to Roots, he rubbed his face with the side of his hand, tired of the itches on his face.

He gritted his teeth and rode the wagon, standing on one of the unconscious lying adventurers' body.

Similarly, the goblins were all standing on the bodies, creating a strange, surreal scene as many wagons carrying the same lying bodies and group of standing goblins magically rode in a single direction up the hilly slopes from different starting points within a single area.

They disappeared, blending with time and the landscape.

The city was still in a state of recovery, and the goblins were already acting with impunity.

Later, elsewhere, in front of a large fort, the wagon-riding goblins got down, saying hi, waving, greeting with gestures.

The fort accepted them, gates opening.

Within the fort, goblins were surrounding various stalls in variedly designed sections of the fort; this place serving more like a small town corner with segmented stall blocks and nicely fitted dirt roads, many layers of society clumped together in a single unit of community. First, anonymous goblin mages wearing hooded tunics that covered their whole body save for their hands walked around in threes. Second, kids trained in the art of producing potions followed wagons and said hi to the travelers and returners, their hands still black with potion-making magic side effects. Third, giant golems were being lassoed and dragged along, their forms making no damage when touching the buildings due to the weakening magical effect established upon their strength, their lassoers little goblins who were tossed into special chambers that maximized their [Capturing] stat, a particular attribute within their status page that allowed them to tame golems and control them. Fourth, tall goblins were raising ornaments, being thousands of bird remains clipped into shapes, upon lines across the town as part of a magical effect controlling how much the goblins urinated. Basically, it made it so that they didn't have to urinate as much by converting their urine into odorless air as a buff. Fifth, goblins who were lying on the road were checking the goblins walking by. Due to a certain magic, they couldn't move their body much, only being able to lie down. But the benefit was that anybody that walked near them were immediately magically assessed for their health, wellbeing, and for any negative effects. If anything was wrong with them, they would begin to glow to show another group of goblins that they had to be sent to a room for healing. Sixth, the goblins were constantly affected with a spell that made their healing twice as strong, but it also came at the cost of sucking a third of the mana of all goblins within the fort. It was clear that a fort had this spell when it had a monster statue in the middle.

Soon, transitioning to Goldberg, he woke up in a jail cell, hundreds of adventurers lined up in a line at his left in similar cells.

The goblins were immediately there as soon as he woke up, placing cups and plates for them to eat in before they dumped slop on their plates.

Goldberg was confused, because he was expecting to be tortured.

He ate it up and told his fellow adventurers to be careful about casting magic, because they might have set up some form of anti-magic or trigger to kill the caster.

One of the fellow adventurers, after being pressured to do so, cast magic, and a large hammer appeared out of thin air and smashed him to death.

Goldberg didn't understand this.

It didn't make sense for this sequence of events to unfold.

He was just relaxing in the corner of a room, and all of a sudden, he was here.

He tried to get out, because he felt that this was all a farce—a  joke.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. When did things go wrong? He was just relaxing, and all of a sudden, Evernight and Saddest died. All of a sudden, a large army was in front of him, and he was told to be present because the goblins were being arrogant again. "What is happening?"

But he was here in prison.

He realized that the goblin's system of integrating adventurers into their territory was swift, clean, and natural to them, while disorienting, sudden, and disjointed in the adventurers' eyes.

The goblins immediately placed wards and other forms of tracking their opponents in the area. They also added various goblins to keep watch in case. They assembled portals in which the goblins could go from their hiding spots to a safe distance outside the fort. They made sure to place various barriers maintained by magical artifacts all around the location where they got Goldberg.

They were much more prepared and mechanized.

The goblins had artifacts that Goldberg's group was not aware of, because many adventurers tended to avoid smaller and weaker dungeons due to their easy and the lengthy duration it took to go through and finish them. But the goblins grabbed the scraps and soon found themselves at an advantage due to their every-nook-and-cranny approach, one that focused on the minor details and strategic points, resulting in an insiduous progression toward superiority in this area. However, the adventurers could eliminate them easily; however, Goldberg was surprised twice. He made the same mistake, thinking that simply a larger force would fix the issue. The goblins punished their mistakes, using guerilla warfare and loose and unorganized control with a focus on the the unknown dungeons and control points.

In the end, Goldberg was defeated.

In the meantime, one of the adventurers with him, Jashuki, as a former intelligence officer, didn't understand why the hell the adventurer system coordinated by the city didn't provide contingencies for this kind of goblin threat. Was it not compatible with the current methodologies with regard to adventuring and adventurer-adjacent theory available? How did the goblin incident not get flagged beforehand? Were the detectors (intelligence gatherers), both literal and framework-wise, not comprehensive enough to dampen the attack's impact? However, he recognized that the response mechanisms which involved their arrival as reinforcements for the Goldberg were rudimentary and that sooner or later, the effective lack of resources and manpower instrumentalized by the Just attack would prove to be a detriment. Naturally, with weakened and exhausted power, the complexity of the interposed mechanisms underlying prevention (defence) would revisit basics proportionally, but that didn't free the relevant leaders from liability.

The city was very vulnerable; in fact, the entire region was likely similarly so, if concerns like these couldn't be handled. That meant the goblins were growing their metaphorical explosive shrooms in their backyard in plain sight without anyone noticing at all. The goblins had to be immediately punished, and the influence, encompassing ideology, philosophy, intelligence, skill, visual signatures, and leaders, that led to this incident had to be removed.

While Jashuki continued to recall details, Goldberg raised his hand to reach the ceiling as he leaned against the bars, looking like he ate several rocks initially as a dare and then actually swallowed them, getting the tummy achies.

He wanted to go back to watching tournament games and taking his time off just reading books. He had never read books, but Priscilla did. And he was so bored he might actually do it.

But to be honest, he was using the word "bored" because he was concerned about getting tortured or being killed. But the goblins didn't look too mean.

He was downplaying the situation, he knew.

Simultaneously, the situation outside was demanding, each goblin being expected to continue down the path of optimal functioning. But goblins were given breaks; that was why comfort and familiarity was a fundamental aspect of its foundation.

If Goldberg was aware of this, he would find it very difficult not to respect them. He had a slight aversion to trolls after the 48-casualty incident, but when it came to goblins, he saw them as very dangerous animals that needed to be put down immediately. If he saw them like this, he would hesitate.

Suddenly, despite Jashuki only leaving his strategic intelligence in his head, he was dragged out of his cage. After they informed him that he would be used to help direct their forces in an upcoming fight with soldiers, Jashuki's eyes were wide as saucers. When did they know? Did they know? Was it a lucky guess? Were they actually killing him?

The goblins put him in an open tent where a large group of organized formally dressed goblins were standing, considering Jashuki's expertise.

Jashuki's face was pale. How did they get access to his files?

He knew strategy and how to arrange a draft with counters and overall composition well, and if he was asked to, he could easily give orders in minute detail within an active dynamic battlefield.

"So... which one among these actually produce an effect?"

"An effect..." he said contemplatively. He saw a very, very obvious arrangement on the map. They used magically floating cards as a way to identify different units, so he got big information on their forces. And the map was very minute in scope, so he didn't know the location shown.

He pointed at a particular path and said that depending on how competent the units were, they could reach optimal route within 5 or 6 minutes, allowing them to deny the enemy flank positioning and magical set-up advantage due to the increased mana present in that section. This was simplified, but if he knew the exact methods, resources, and equipment used, then he would make a more accurate assessment.

"So that's how powerful your forces are."

Jashuki's mouth shook very slightly with shock.

The commander continued, "We wouldn't be able to do this without your... Shroud."

Jashuki furrowed his brows to hide his surprise. He made that earlier strategic conclusion assuming that Shroud was a fundamental part of a battlefield; however, he didn't take into account the possibility that some goblin tribes or groups weren't able to harness the Shroud.

The commander concluded, "Why don't we take your Rasudy on that same route then, since that's likely where your Rasudi is located."

Jashuki didn't know how to explain anything to suggest otherwise. He had revealed his cards by mistake, helping them finish up the process of elimination. He wanted to show off his knowledge without revealing anything earlier, but he failed.

He shut himself down emotionally and mentally, waiting for them to move on.

Soon, the goblin commander caught the adventurers off guard by targeting the Rasudi, a particular buff structure that empowered the adventurers, raining down arrows at the desperate, scattered adventurers that had planned on collapsing where they expected the goblin main force would be. It wasn't just the Rasudi.

To simplify, the goblins had 5 main forces.

To explore in detail, several of them were more typical infantry soldiers intended to help scatter fire and make it harder for the enemy to muster a focused gaze. This way, they could help put together teams positioned around the flanks behind the groves of trees. It was slower, but they were terrain-specialized soldiers. Several hundred mana stones were arranged for continuous fire to put a stand-in in the fight before the main troops collapsed around the middle. It was expected that they would both have mana stones to channel a barrage of magic from. However, this was also layered with special considerations on the adventurers' part; such as a spell that could create trenches almost instantly, a spell that could make tens of soldiers invisible, and a spell that could break open a line of troops by making them fall unconscious with little to no way of stopping it, bypassing projectile-directed magical shields. But even in close quarters combat, there were master fighters like Jashuti, a man who could bring ten opponents down if he was given a line of opponents, which forced enemies to separate very loosely while taking cover from sudden barrages or close quarters magical and physical projectile shots if necessary. People like Jashuti could stall the whole fight and allow those whom a slower pace benefitted to execute their plans faster, forcing the entire battlefield into making riskier decisions and where they began dying in the numbers.

It could get more complicated than that, as the fight happened in multiple angles and levels of awareness, with those moving closer to their strategic locations losing time rapidly and gaining more desperation as their life-or-death situation zoomed nearer.

The commander was not at all worried, as Jashuki himself revealed much about the adventurers that he didn't know, leaving most of the fight happening quickly.

For a double-sided ambush done with a noticeable distance of separation between goblins and adventurers, the goblins used the Rasudi again after disabling it because they knew that it had a temporary effect of intense slowness on the adventurers. Even if it buffed the adventurers, they used it to finish off the adventurers and keep them in suspended position while they were bombarded with charges. The slowness and buff affected the goblins as well now that they were within range upon its turning-on, but the goblin charges were advantaged due to the adventurers' in-progress regrouping as an awkward formation. Moreover, the goblins were specialized with dashing skills that ignored slowness effects, but the adventurers were varied in composition, with different specializations shoulder-to-shoulder, resulting in their quick, front-to-back defeat.

Rasudi were immediately lowered down, put down, and disassembled. Their point here was to make sure that its buffs were disabled as soon as possible. They could just use magic to deactivate it, but doing it this way made it much faster.

When they reached the area where the Rasudi was earlier, it was a remote place, so they had lots of time to prepare and disassemble it.

Ultimately, they won.

Highlights included the time they used the Rasudi to kill a large group of adventurers; the time they killed Jashuti, a remote-lane bruiser ("a durable fighter who dealt consistent damage and excelled in close quarters combat, intended to be independent and self-sufficient in isolation as a duelist in one-on-one confrontations"), by pitting him within an intersection of several trenches using the trench-making spell and then surprising him by crowding him with goblins that were already headed in his direction anyway during a moment when the adventurers had their focus on what they perceived to be a very vulnerable main force; and the time they left a side of the main force vulnerable to catch them off guard with hidden flanks, the hints of which were downplayed. This fake vulnerability was layered with a double circular formation meant to scoop up the invisible adventurers and preclude the spell that made a line of targets fall unconscious. The caster for this spell was killed before he could find an effective timing to use it.

When it came to the adventurers' perspective, they wanted to get the goblins quickly because they were 99% sure the goblins were regrouping after disabling the Rasudi. They didn't expect the goblins to be much more aggressive and actually sending it.

They started the fight laying out the soldiers with a more defensible position, focusing on taking over the goblins side through layering a few primary positions and blocking flanks with well-placed dynamic actors. This way, they could focus a barrage of spells and destroy the enemies by usurping wide-scale control and advantage immediately. Pushing enemies to their defences and forcing them to regroup at their defences was their goal because it was easier for them to siege a single target than to have the enemies chip away at their force through drawing them in. Instead, they would force the goblins to retreat to their defences, giving them zero time to draw them into unfavorable positions when they owned the land by that point. Furthermore, the adventurers couldn't have the Rasudi at the primary positions because that made it obvious where it was, so they placed it at a distant spot. They also made sure their resources were separate and compartmentalized through different forces. The route that the goblins took was highly defensible, especially with the Shroud spell that made soldiers invisible in areas of smoke. But that was why they left it with little forces, only propping up a fake appearance of invulnerability. However, they did leave the Shroud spell caster with them because they expected the goblins to send a small group down the route anyway. They didn't expect the goblin main force to go through that route, given the typical blitzkrieg close quarters approach assumed from adventurers.

However, what ended happening was that their goal of making the goblins regroup became their disaster, and they didn't expect the goblins to reach the Rasudi that they had tucked far away from their primary arms of attack. It wasn't too far, so they immediately went there even if they were a little unorganized. But they hadn't expected the goblins to be so fast.  If the adventurers relied on their most defensible positions before the blitzkrieg approach, they would have shut down the goblins immediately. But the goblins had pivotal info on them.

When they suddenly started losing, their goal was to stay back and look to re-engage them in favorable positions and angles, but the fight was long lost, having lost their key players.

This ended their streak of plans and left them on the dust.

The goblin pressed their advantage by moving into the outposts; they didn't have forts positioned here. And the fortified hill they did have only had soldiers who were not used to goblins, since adventurers were the ones who dealt with them the most.

Goblins marched forward, breaking land and crushing the tempo the soldiers sacrificed. The soldiers had intended to catch the goblins by overstaying and get even better tempo, but the goblins were used to these kinds of tactics, very wary of even the minor details being a minor species with minor forces themselves who only had the trivial things to keep them company.

The city began alerting the barracks.

Nameless was right, but he was wrong about the timing, just like the soldiers were.

The adventurers were being armed again; instead of using a typical army formation, they used a modular approach, each module a coalition, because they were used to coalitions rather than a unit even more complex and larger than them.

The city was being dared to fall.

The goblins were a tidal wave, their forces a diverse and multifaceted as their comprehensive experience as detail-finders and low-crawlers. It was ingrained into the psyche—the advantage that they now held over the city since the Just attack and the provisional loss of defensibility with recovery initiatives.

The city was taunted to fall.

Later, back in his cell, Goldberg stared, saying, "What is happening..."

After Goldberg was brought outside, he saw smoke in the distance.

"Huh?"

Nearby, a goblin guard looked at him and provoked him: "You humans are so hard-headed. 

"You think you control everything. You talk of freedom and adventure.

"You have no clue what you don't know. You arrogance and complacency will be your downfall."

Goldberg shook his head instinctively.

A group of goblin guards began mocking him in spades.

They were young and wanted something perfect to rally behind—a sense of purpose, a sense of place, and a sense of identity in a chaotic world that they were still taking years to accept, amid the disillusionment—so Goldberg didn't find it unusual. He used to be like that.

He used to care about the individual, but his idealisms had taken a backseat because he had to deal with details and work. But he still felt that inside. It was just dormant.

The mocking goblins reminded him of what it was like to believe in something enough that one would do anything to defend it and fight for it in the face of opposition, ostracism, and persecution.

But that kind of thinking led to complicated real-life situations that left people complacent due to the challenges of maintaining a sense of self through the burden of the everyday, unappreciated struggle. But maybe he did feel strongly about things, but right now, he was still processing things.

Goldberg was not like this usually. 

This was not who he was, or at least who he knew himself to be. But this was who he was now amid who he had been.

It was like he was a child again, when everything was knew—

Antipolo City had fallen.

The interplay of complacency and genuine belief in an idea, that being a city, overshadowed the practicalities of actual defensibility, both in intangible and tangible domains.

Goldberg didn't want this, but reality was often not what he thought it looked like. No one thought Antipolo could reach this low before the Just attack, but the Just attack had woken them up and made them realize that they weren't the invulnerable city-state they thought they were. But it was only exacerbated by the proactivity of the goblins in their newfound advantage over the city. 

Once "Antipolo would never fall!" was declared in the high places and in the mid and lower brackets of society, it was over—complacency had taken root. But it wasn't just complacency. They really didn't have the means to handle the Just attack, and it was unavoidable. And the goblins could be considered unavoidable as well as a consequence of their current weakened state. In fact, it didn't have to be a matter of complacency, but of risk and reward.

Either way, the nobles were imprisoned.

The thing about the goblins' plan was that they didn't execute every combatant in their way, making their war a step more defensible. Moreover, they made the transfer of power smooth by focusing on elevating the side of the humans that shared an aversion toward the adventurers, which, in this case, was the New Adventurers. They relied on this shared aversion to transition to a new state where these adventurer-hating humans were the new rulers. The goblins had only wanted to neuter the aggressiveness of this country represented by the extreme New Adventurers. In other words, they formed a more peace-oriented state by removing the aggressive faction. They didn't care if the goblin-tolerant faction was significantly less skilled, organized, and able to uphold stable and fair governance, they only cared that it wasn't anti-Goblin. 

Soon enough, Billy stared, hearing the sounds of a goblin soldier walking by. The adventurer friends of their trainer were dead, and the trainer himself was relocated to another role after they discovered his connections with the adventurers.

It was because everything had no closure and were in the middle of things that the goblin attack was so good.

Shifting to a desolate, metaphorical tone, Billy sat down, waving his hand back on forth, his heart beating slowly. His mind dancing with joy, he leapt, flying over the wall and becoming askew, an intangible form within his imagination. He saw the scale of change, and he saw the weight of the world floating farther and farther away from him. He rescinded his world-contacting limbs into himself. He removed the world from his mind, and he saw a great large area with the largest buildings only small things at the horizon. He danced and fell apart structurally, his soul becoming nonsensical. He read the books and found words that didn't match his world. He fell away, becoming liquid, streaming down the road, his hair streaming back all the while, his thoughts streaming in. He became water.

Drips of rainwater poured, callously beating against the earth, forming piles of mud. The greatness of the world disassembled itself and formed new rules and meanings until nothing was sensible and everything was inconsiderate of everything except itself.

Large buildings loomed, but all around was an empty mountainous landscape. Hundreds of years worth of memories streaming to nothingness; he laughed profusely, grating against the ears, jarring his spirit, turning him into a masseur of his own recovering soul.

He flew apart and became anew, each moment a strike against the thunderous earth where thunderstorms raged on to no end. He drifted away from all that, becoming ascended at an natural forested elevation. He climbed the hill, his heart pumping endlessly. He crashed to the valleys. He read the markings on the ground.

He danced until he dropped.

The world became ice, and he froze in its touch, picking up clumsily a small trinket which he held close against the sleeves that covered his hands, wrists, and arms. He held it against the sweat, as the heat poured inside. He sweated from his forehead, temples, shoulders, armpits, and sides of the belly. His back was the most sweaty. He walked out, away from the visual noise of his background.

The environment strung him along, beating him and lashing at him to move on.

He walked idly with a clumsy alternating half-step. He soldiered on.

The night poured like rain, furnishing his eyes until they were refined. He saw the figure of the goblins, but they were people who had always been there.

He envisioned a new reality, and it was not so.

He gradually disassembled himself, coalescing the only things that made sense into the internal chambers protected by the outer layers of these different parts of him. This way, he was sensible; though, it came at the cost of spending time in mindfulness and reflection for hours, even amid his duties.

His hands moved automatically.

But his world inwardly shown.

Moving on to a more ambitious and urgent level, elsewhere, in the meantime, Shadrach began writing down notes with rapidity, slashing words upon the paper, crashing and burning words to permanence. He indefinitely poured his agency again and again until he mustered saluting text behind the battlements of word-art-creation—a definition of power.

He moved forward, raising his arm and clasping his hand into a fist. He was addicted to the grind, gnashing his teeth with determination.

The goblins clapped and awarded him, slowly putting him in various positions to interconnect various sections of their governance in the mining category. They placed colored banners upon his shoulders, imbuing him with agency and grace. He closed his eyes, a grin hidden at the bottom level of his face. He read their words and understood their intentions, and he was uplifted slowly and gradually above the masses. His agency was consummated.

He grabbed words and threw them aside, as his mouth spat commands that determined the positioning and role delegation and resource allocation with respect to his fellow humans. He knew that the goblins' support would be ending a few months from now, so he maximized his grasp upon their offers of adjustment and "conquering the new land." This was his chance to reach the heights. He would become an agent of swiftness.

Zooming into Notch, he finished a few day jobs before he got back home. It was a boring day, but he would pretty much eat the scraps and focus on getting back to speed with everyone if that was even possible. He needed some form of opportunity, and with the removal of the adventurers, he had no urgent rush. He only had menial day jobs, especially given that the city was still recovering and focused on cleaning up and returning to streamlined process, which took some risk sometimes but overall was a simple basic two-handed tools like pickaxes.

One day, on one on many days, in a similar manner to Billy, he woke up, glancing outside through the window; several kids played around him, their limbs flying through the air, their movements complex like nodes in a point-by-point system. Beat-by-beat sensations energized his standing up, his heart dispersing into the winds.

He went outside. The sky was bright, lonesome, and forlorn, ragged, a warm patina in his eyes; his fingertips seeking out flesh, his movements forward yet purposeful. A life beyond his form tethered him to the earth; a lovely tone shut up the dissonance of the new era.

He knew that this was the loss of more than a hundred years.

He sat down and tasted the earth with his skin, the hairs sensing the death all around. Cultures fell in response to stimulation, but new ones arose to replace them. Ideas became more nuanced, but their origins eluded the people. He hid within a ball-like form.

He walked outside, dots coloring the horizon like a painting, words collapsing into dust, flying voices married the shared vibe of this environment. Cursed violent thoughts were distant now; there where the memories lay.

He dissipated, his form becoming accursed. He hopped like a frog, his mouth opening and closing like heaven's gates. He clasped his arm as he haggardly moved, stuck in suspended animation—a loop of the idle walking stride. He became transparent.

He soon became an after-image, imprinted on the scope of this world. He was no longer Notch but a blend of people, a representation of the common man and a never-ending tiresome journey unto death.

The silence was bequeathed to him.

He fell away like a figure magically turned to sand as part of an elaborate magical attack. He drifted then.

The sand particles that made him up crawled on the rainforest ground, climbing the mountainous steps of staircases, the looming statuesque figures of regular humans too hard to climb.

The image of separation; the bifurcation of his spiritual nature; and the combination of death and life became apparent in this child's eyes.

He saw the 48 late apprentice miners and understood only a little bit more about what it meant to die.

He was 14 years old, but only the idea presented itself, never the reality and experience of it sandwiched between an infinity of layers. The world had never felt so real or surreal.

He fell to the earth, remembering thousands of years before being blocked by his age. He was limited, even now, and even if he had experienced a lot, he still hadn't truly processed things with a mature perspective. That would be gradually bequeathed to him with the passing of time.

He nodded with an introspective look.

He flew from tip to tip in his mind—a mountain range that provided access to millions of data, items, and information.

He fell to the ground, where his hands pounded against the beating of the moment.

He engaged in the act of work, not a single drop of fleshy humanity in the scene. He had lost his edge.

He was a dull refrain.

Moving on to a more ambitious note, John Roger stood in front of a large crowd, as he assembled his troops, running away.

The goblins were chasing like flies, catching spells and mitigating almost all damage with spells of their own.

John sent out soldiers for them to zone the goblins out, but he intended to making sure that their sacrifices were worth it. He commanded adventurers to look for an ambush.

They had overstayed a bit, but they didn't know that the place was secretly warded, which meant that the goblins could see them.

They had gotten caught laying a trap from afar through magical vision in the form of warding.

After they managed to push back and escape, John immediately called for diplomatic negotiations, hoping to truce this away.

John was able to agree on a deal to sell his artifacts with a contract that didn't allow them or their allies to harm them. This was impossible to invalidate, because any loop holes was ignored by the god who oversaw the agreement between the two parties.

John was confused why the goblins agreed, but he guessed that this was a good time to focus up and get things together. 

The past events happened quickly and with great precision of impact. From the perspective of an hypothetical outsider, first, a man named Goldberg sat on a tent, observing details around him with his senses on a figurative note. Second, a man named "Matteo" hid from adventurer friends, questioning reality. His friends found him. Third, Goldberg prepared for battle against goblins, reflecting on past experiences fighting them. Fourth, he led an army to attack the goblins but was outwitted and defeated by a shapeshifting goblin named Roots. Fifth, Goldberg and other adventurers were imprisoned by the goblins in a fort town. Sixth, the goblins employed an adventurer named Jashuki to help strategize against the city's army. Seventh, the goblins launched a decisive attack, using intelligence from Jashuki to ambush and defeat the city's army. Eighth, the city fell to the goblins. Goldberg pondered the situation. Ninth, a young adult named Billy had an existential experience in the aftermath. Tenth, a boy named Shadrach was promoted by the goblins to a governing position over mining. Eleventh, a young man named Notch tried to adjust to the new goblin-ruled city. Lastly, an noble named John Roger battled the goblins but was forced to negotiate a deal with them.

These past events epitomized the experiences of the city in the last month, with John's negotiation happening on the last week of the second month after Maverick died (AMD)—2 months AMD.

Falling back to the moment, Billy rode a wagon, riding through the streets of the city.

The world had long changed since they first came to mining, and nothing about this world was clear. It was all one big puddle stitched together, with so many people seeking control and power, not a single person really ruling everything, but everyone had felt like they were the center of the world at one point. Billy had his time, and now that was over. Now, he was taking rest in the idle life of the world this city crafted.

It was like if someone drew many lines on a piece of paper from random directions again and again until the paper itself was soft-black in color and one could see the lines forming complicated structures, shapes, networks, complexes, ideas, and cities. This abstract art was what the world was like.

He noticed a young woman sitting down, wondering what she was up to.

In the end, he minded his own business, and her life disappeared like puffs of smoke in his world. She was just a bystander, but to her, her real world was vast enough that if she traveled thousands of miles across it, she would never reach the end. If it was imagination, it would repeat again and again, never able to match reality in its endlessness and nature as a gaping hole. This was the limitation of mundane imagination compared to the grand endless complexities of real life—the wet muddy ground contrasting the heights of vastness.

Nonetheless, she sat down, becoming swallowed by her environment.

Billy tried his best to maintain himself. The idea to become everything was a common theme among adventurers, so being close with them, he was influenced into pondering that ideal. Individuality reliant on a world of invalidations, categorizations, and polarization only lent to a loss of the self.

He tried his best to exist as who he was and not as who his experiences told him to be.

He was malleable and changeable yet incorruptible in his undying pursuit of his own self-realization.

He was human.

He sat down and embraced the ground, his heart pumping blood against the pavement, his soul wrapped with cloth, his skin sweaty with blackened burns. His eyes looked upon the sky, the sky beating him with a metal blunt weapon. His arms reaching out in obedience, the sky commanded him to obey only himself. 

The metallic taste in his lips pressed upon him to wake up and move on.

He stood still, walking gradually faster until he was in a sprint, his feet dangling behind him, his legs stomping against the ground, his arms bolting before his breath, his breath swallowing the air and puffing it out like bellows, his skin eating up air and creating speed.

He stopped at an adventurer guild, joining them as one of their own, holding a pickaxe, as he was tasked to mine while the other members of his new adventurer party fought monsters.

Goldberg did not stand behind him, but Billy was strongly alone.

He attacked the rock, casting spells upon it again and again.

He didn't want to remove himself manically from progress, so he cast out spells like a bat screamed in the night.

He was trying to create progress.

He struck it like a man eating ravenously blessed meat from a holy shrine.

The rocks broke down gradually, making gravel. But he was unable to create the finest sand.

It didn't matter though. What mattered was that he was progressing, albeit slowly.

He got up and returned to the mining training, finishing the last few days.

After that, he was done.

He went down to a cave and kept mining, relying on adventurers to help him.

He didn't know what he was doing, but he was contributing to a larger world.

Goblins stood in front of him, not as enemies, but as superiors.

They told him to match their pace with the rest of their goblin miners, saying that they were so weak they couldn't match the goblins.

They knew that the humans were stronger than they were, but they still felt superior in many other aspects, which made the humans feel like a waste of talent who just used all of that power toward destroying what was right in front of them.

Earlier, when it came to the goblin takeover, there were other monsters in the region, but none of them agreed to helping the goblins fight the humans, as they felt that the humans had secret weapons, having been so castrated in the past that they couldn't even recognize the opportunity once the Just attacked.

The funny part was that a strong military human force was still outside hunting down goblins. They only realized recently that their human city was already gone. 

For context, this military force included Nameless and Ethan.

Simply and truthfully, the goblins only played the advantage, punishing the humans for their significant mistakes. They won fair and square.

But as with anything, a simple game of strategy might have won them the fight, but it didn't guarantee them the long-staying advantage. That had to be fostered, maintained, and cultivated, mitigating the effects of disruption and a lack of experience and skill when it came to handling the human city on the goblins' part.

Exploring the goblins' impact on the humans from a heavily abstract angle, human lives were being demarcated and placed into categories, their hearts removed within this operative signature of the goblins—an acknowledgement on their part with regard to how they were treated. Adventurers were moved into various systemic containment "glands," their various individual characteristics assembled into a more cohesive base of adventurism, one handled via a hundred goblin superiors, each a leader in their own right. One hundred was not the actual number, but more so a representation. As they were called the "Hundred Goblin Titles," a group meant to represent a show of force on the goblins' side and a sense of organization usually not attributed to the goblin species. The actual goblin titles were plentiful, but that was not the point. Their goal was to marry intangible elements into clumps as part of an preliminary non-actual process. And in the aftermath of that messier and improvisational multi-system series of exchanges, they would then transport their clumps into a higher-order agency that assigned values and properties to otherwise undeterminable elements. Simply, their goal involved preventing systematic inefficient through learning. In more complex terms, learning how to verify intangible elements within a larger structure rested upon the need to clarify confusions about the weight of imbalances and how they contribute to quality deterioration. In other words, intangible elements, whether they involve organizational culture, team dynamics, or abstract concepts within a system, warrant certification, and clarifying confusions with regard to the overall integrity and weight that imbalances brought to an otherwise stable larger-structural landscape or plateau and with respect the manner in which they played a role in the deterioration of quality in terms of compactness of usefulness would verify these elements. Furthermore, this certification involved a formalized method or system for assessing and validating these larger-structure–abiding elements. To relate this extended conceptualization to more practical terms, these intangible elements related to characteristics such as traditional human culture; secondly, the dissonances often involved in streamlining various affects involved in the significant events that either plagued them or played an ameliorative or enhancing effect upon them; thirdly, the qualities ascribed to various class-meaning–converging (a creating through bringing together) individuals; fourthly, the readiness of the human's system to adapt to incorporations without too much conflict, which was analogous to the human personality characteristic of openness; and lastly, the highness of economic strangeness in terms how different natural roles played in the hierarchy. When it came to this last of a series of characteristics, "highness" referred to depth while also implying a sense of traditional-level class constraint; "strangeness" referred a more characteristic, functionally formal-methodological form of divergence, often ascribed to the word "strange"; and "natural" precisely referred to how accepted this overall structure equivalency (the weight of accepted 'equal-ness') was, one that touched upon topics such as the distribution of groups within a society. Exploring this abstraction further, when it came to the weight of imbalances, they referred to the sense of spectrum-like dynamism with points, or more precisely stars, and how they danced, which was why clarifying the confusions regarding them and the manner in which they contributed to quality deterioration. Lastly, with reference to the quality deterioration, to repeat an earlier statement for cohesion, it dealt with compactness of usefulness, basically tying up systematic efficiency as a grounded goal underpinned by underlying concepts.

Moving into reality, wearing purple and yellow clothes, the Hundred Goblin Titles stretched their legs, their feet traversing across the earth, their limbs propulsive, their arms lean, their posture slick.

Their hands operating on each part of their clothes and sliding between pocket to pocket, they moved forward.

The hands assembled upon their arms extended forth, arresting the adventurers that thought they could fight while they were arduously present, having been traveling throughout the whole city.

Their hands smacked the adventurers, and the goblins fell only to kick them in the stomachs, breaking their drives, sullying their humanities.

They clasped them and broke their forms.

The adventurers drifted, exploding into ephemeral dust.

The goblins struck them and broke them again and again, even after their forms had long gone. The humanity that remained was abruptly swept away with the suddenness of their attacks.

They created life through destruction; fixing the weakness present in this society—system absolving through death.

But their goal wasn't to kill. It was only to prevent anyone from taking advantage of each other during a desperate time by murdering brutally those who tried to put themselves as precedents that crime could reign supreme. They were the enforcers of peace.

They sought out the adventurers and supported them in the ways of peace by handing them souvenirs of peace—food gifts, desserts, and other forms of pasalubong.

Returning to Billy, he began cleaning up a little as was expected from him, the metal touch of ores and various materials burrowed into the heart of his wagon. He pushed the wagon forward a little before he placed them on a hand cart that he then carried, his back struggling for a while before he stopped. This was very humanizing even for him.

He wanted to use his spells, but they were all offensive. He had given away his mining-adjacent skills to Notch.

He kept crushing through the earth.

It didn't seem like much, but he would manage.

Goblins had pushed him out of the large cave network he helped create.

So now he was here, taking care of a new cave.

This would take a while.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, James Boulevard was in a battle with hobbits, accompanied by several dogs he had saved.

Dead hobbit. Check. Sword out of sheath, distractions out. Blood pattered on the grass, a soft drum against the symphony of the screams of war. The cavalry marched ahead, back and forth, like a metronome marking the tempo of the battle. Mountains loomed, shrouded in mist and secrets, dark green against the gray sky. Northe Road, a rainforest jungle nestled in the heart of the Laazg mountains.

Hobbits bustled outside, a kaleidoscope of magic and hurried steps. A hobbit in a bright yellow coat laughed, her voice lost in the wind's howl. Wagons roared past, their sturdy nailed planks a stark contrast to the vibrant tones of the landscape. Magical structures crowded together, a chaotic mosaic of mana and light, their rooftops hot with fire. The air smelled of death and mud scents, a strange but not unpleasant mix.

He struck deep, penetrating flesh. Not a single dent in his sword. The sword barely dulling. Every moment cried for salvation. And his sword's edges raced down the air, like tiny rivers carving their paths.

The hands that used to paint were now wielders of blades, being required more than ever by his fellow adventurers who had escaped the goblins and fled the city. He had to conquer new lands in order to find new homes for his countrymen. The hobbits were only in their way.

They stole their homes and entered into their quietest places.

Displacement and habitat loss meant trouble on surrounding settlements.

Eventually, he swallowed the flesh of hobbits, hungry after not eating for so long. He needed food for sure, but today was a time of hunger.

Fear and hunger. Check.

He sat down, staring at a hobbit, embracing him in spirit, hugging, as the dead face stared into the sky.

Meadow grass. Check. Sword in, world out. Blood pattered on the grass, a soft drum against the symphony of the battle.

The late Charles Finch's same expression had mirrored the hobbit's.

James cried.

He later stood up, his heart too tired.

He began slashing the rest of the hobbits away, with an exhausted gait heavier than the load of his equipment and sword.

Anger lit.

He shouted at the top of his lungs: "How dare you make me feel like this! To be helpless! How dare you! You disgusting little fuckers!"

Meanwhile, back in the city, the marginalized adventurers that used to be shunned by society was now accepted by the goblins, who supported their long-standing hatred of the evil conducted historically by adventurers against sentient monsters. However, when it came to those who had only hated their fellow adventurers because of the exclusive nature of factions and feeling excluded from quests, they were promptly dealt with.

Though, the newly appointed former adventurers felt awkward and clumsy.

What did this new world mean? Could they really do better than their senior adventurer counterparts? Were they pretentious? They didn't want to waste this opportunity, but they weren't completely confident in their ability to replace the older adventurers.

In the same heartbeat, in the mines, Billy stared.

He fell to the ground.

The magical cave fumes was beginning to kill him.

Billy reached out. 

The new goblin-controlled city also involved a lot of risk-taking, improvisation, and cutting corners due to limited resources.

Billy watched the sky.

He couldn't die here.

He tried again and again, begging the world to forgive him for his sins.

He didn't know what else to say.

Who was he speaking to?

One of the adventurers he was with sighted him and quickly healed him.

Billy got up and out back to the surface.

He had an outpouring of grief, shock, and tears.

This was not heaven.

He would keep going though.

This new world would struggle under the weight of the consequences of the past.

Simultaneously, in hell, Maverick laughed again with the Just and Charles Finch.

Returning to Billy, he got up. He would control this environment.

He had to become free from its clutches.

Nature would obey him.

Society would hearken unto him.

It had to.

It had to.

He kept smashing rocks and begging it to break.

He broke more and more.

He made a chamber where he sat down and relaxed, sleeping on the chamber floor.

The adventurers came in and had a meal inside, talking with camaraderie, while Billy slept.

Shifting to Billy, he was in a dream.

"Are you happy, Billy?"

Billy stared, seeing Maverick.

Maverick laughed, accompanied by two figures.

Billy looked around, seeing a hellscape. "Where am I?" he said, getting up from the ground; though, he flinched when his palm struck a spike. He noticed it bleeding before it healed suddenly.

Maverick said, "Hell."

Billy didn't understand. "How about Notch and Shadrach?"

"Huh? What happened to you guys?"

Billy scratched his head. "We drifted apart after the goblins..."

"What happened?"

Billy finished his sentence: "The goblins took over the city."

Maverick was shocked. "Billy, are you okay?"

Billy stared.

Maverick embraced him.

Billy began to cry, his heart breaking and opening up again, the walls collapsing, the debris clearing. "I don't know..."

Maverick wondered why Billy didn't have parents or anyone else to talk to, but he guessed that Billy was going through a unique situation that even his parents couldn't comprehend that anything they did only made things worse. So Billy found that his life was just too different and displaced out of what was supposed to be normal.

Maverick said: "You have to keep going. Press on. Don't let the pain get to you. The world is watching. Don't be stuck. Keep finding new ground to cover. Don't forget what it feels like to live, and if you do, desperately find it again. If you cannot find it, accept the loss and move on and create new gardens. That's the world we live, Billy. That's what we gotta do."

Returning to reality, Billy woke up, seeing the cold hard ground.

One of the adventurers greeted him. They secretly called themselves adventurers, but officially, they were kinatawans. It meant "representatives," but functionally, they were tasked to guard-dog their interests, such as miner entrants like Billy.

"How's your day, bruh?" said Jiji. "I'm pretty much chillin' out here, hoping to get some work done because I'm pretty much dead. I'm behind by... a lot. Seven quarters... I'm being expected to do that much work. Yeah seriously. They said that it was because of the fact that I used to be an adventurer. I mean, I still am. But still... I don't know. I'm not really going to do anything. Goblins know that. They detected me, and they said that I am 'innocuous.' So that's a plus. No execution, no death. I'm proud of that, I guess."

"Why you yappin' bruh?" said Redmouth.

"Ah, whatevs," said Jiji. "Me no care. Point is we're going to be handling seven, four, five. I don't know. But we're going to be handling a lot of new miners." He pointed this next statement to Billy. "I heard your friend Shadrach... is going to be visiting." He returned his focus to the whole group: "He said... My new goblin... superior said that we can kind of just arrange things, kind of set things up, and then hopefully we guarantee, we, we, guarantee, have everything prepared. The goal is that, you know, the adventurers—the miners are completely... comfortable, you know.

"Right," said another adventurer, Saturn.

"So what's actually going to happen, though?" said Roark.

"Well, let's see," said Jiji. "Supposedly, we're going to be the ones messing things up and kind of making everything worse. But I don't agree of course. That's why they gave us not so much to work with, because they were not expectant of a good result. I hope that things work out, because I've, I've never really had to kind of set things, the tone, and all of that. Like, if we go to the dungeon and attack the first things that, like, come in our way. I don't know if I'm going to be able to... handle that, while also trying to make sure that we... have this controf—controllable-comfortable environment. I don't care to be honest. I do. But if we're going to make it, I wanna make sure everything's perfect, and I don't have to do anything after."

"Okay then," said Roark.

Roark wielded his spear, his form grandiose, his clothes slick, his fingers spinning the handle with finesse, his steps rumbling like a pack of hounds sighting a lone rabbit.

The rest of the adventurers followed. "Either way, we ballin'."

Their gigantic shadows dancing interconnectedly, they slashed giant spiders one by one, a spider in each chamber. The spiders screeched.

Cleaning up the area, they gave Billy and the coming miner entrants a lot of space.

But they were exhausted, falling right back to sleep in the chamber Billy had created.

In that same room, Billy had a different perspective. He wanted to detach from this world and see it from a different lens. Maverick told him earlier to find new ground, and he wanted to do just that.

He decided to leave the city, going outside and encountering the other mining entrants who were scheduled to arrive at the mines. But he said he was only leaving for a while.

He kept walking, passing through many familiar placed that were now filled with goblins.

He reached the city gates.

The goblins stopped him.

He couldn't get out.

He had to find a way to leave.

He could have left before, but he had wanted to leave until now.

He was brought back to the mines.

There, he realized that this world neutered him.

But no, he couldn't accept this conclusion.

He had to find a way out.

He asked the adventurers whom he barely knew back at the mines for help.

"I want to leave the city," he said. "How can I do it?"

The adventurers smiled and told him that they could help him and that it was very easy.

They led him to a tunnel that went across the whole city underground. They called it the "God's Tunnel" because it led to paradise, or the outside world.

Billy was able to escape just fine, and all he had to was ask for help.

Now that he was out of the city, he didn't know what else to do; however, the adventurers did instruct him to follow the road and run as soon as he heard a loud sharp noise, because beasts were constantly on the prowl.

If he was lucky, he would make it. If he wasn't, he would restart again and again, running back to the beginning to avoid the monsters.

The goblin guards didn't try to stop him because they thought he was from outside anyway. They just warned him not to do anything and allowed him to stand outside the city walls. They used magic to identify the strength of travelers, and they verified that Billy was innocuous.

Billy kept going, running around. Then, he encountered someone familiar.

He saw a large group of humans and goblins, and among them, he sighted Goldberg, who stood, aiding the goblins in marshalling the humans.

They were about to raid a giant hole where skeletons and giant mud golems were fighting. It had been this way for hundreds of years, and the group was here to train.

Billy avoided them for now and came across a traveling wizard, avoiding him as well.

He came across a giant with a boy riding on his shoulder. He avoided him.

He came across a convoy of carriages, avoiding them.

He didn't want to get entangled with anyone near the city.

Transitioning to a more relaxed and explorative note, the verdant, rich tones of the jungle with its palm, acacia, banana, papaya, and Premna serratifolia, among others, relaxed Billy. The whole list includes Mango Tree, Banana Tree, Areca Palm, Papaya Tree, Dracaena reflexa, Frangipani, probably dragon tree, Christmas Palm, Premna serratifolia, Broad-leaved Yellowwood, Golden-trumpet, Lantana, Sanchezia oblonga, Weeping fig, Queen's crape-myrtle, Rottboellia cochinchinensis, white mulberry (no fruit), Chinese-laurel, Monoon longifolium (the false ashoka), Small-leaved dragon tree, Wild frangipani, Fukien-tea, Big-leaf podocarp, Desert wild grape, Darwin black wattle, Beleric myrobalan, Dutchman's-pipe, probably Leucophyllum frutescens (Texas barometer bush), Golden dewdrops, Ipil-ipil, Abyssinian Rhodes grass, Ficus hispida (Hairy fig), Ficus erecta, Ficus virgata (Figwood), Indian acalypha, Jatropha integerrima (Perigrina), Ivy gourd, Albizia lebbeck, Ixora chinensis (Chinese ixora), Orchid Tree, Neem, Dracaena cambodiana (Cambodian Dragon Tree), Blushing philodendron, Queensland umbrella tree, Okra plant, Cucumber plant, possibly calabash (upo) plant, Tulasi, Red mulberry plant, Guava tree, Tamarind plant or Moringa plant, Great Bindweed, Operculina turpethum plant, Tridax procumbens (Dagad-phul), Muntingia calabura (Calabur-tree), Limnophila rugosa plant, Buffalograss, Ficus ingens, Euphorbia hirta (Asthmaplant), probably Chickenweed, probably Carex pilulifera (Pill sedge), Polyalthia longifolia (Ashoka tree), Averrhoa bilimbi (Bilimbi tree), Mangifera indica (Mango tree), Adonidia merrillii (Manila palm), Dypsis lutescens (Areca palm or Butterfly palm), Ficus sp. (Fig tree - Specific species not identified), Terminalia catappa (Indian almond or Sea almond), Pterocarpus indicus (Narra tree or Amboyna). It also had shrubs or smaller plants: Dracaena fragrans (Corn plant), Costus sp. (Spiral ginger - Specific species not identified), Philodendron sp., Dracaena marginata (Dragon tree), Dracaena reflexa variegata, Polyscias fruticosa (Ming aralia), Dracaena trifasciata (Snake plant or Mother-in-law's tongue), Asparagus densiflorus 'Sprengeri' (Asparagus fern).

It was a multifarious landscape, and not all of them were healthy or mature. Many were young and looked nothing like their humongous fruit-bearing mature counterparts, and not every part of the forest was fine. Many dry leaves scattered on the soil, many areas having limited plant growth, one cause of which was human activity.

He came to see everyday laborers tending to trees.

Within the dipterocarp forest, the laborers engaged in selective logging procedures, going three phases: tree marking, inventory of residual growing stock, and timber stand improvement. To explore this further, the marking was not for felling. They were actually for the ones to be left for the future crop. Basically, the residual future crop, which included a component of young, healthy, well-formed commercial tree species, was selected and marked. There were more details to this, but for the sake of concision, this was a good place to end.

It was a magical time to see this because of the 30–45 year felling cycle for each section or compartment of the forest, so Billy watched.

In the end, this world—no matter how much his personal perspective at many previous points blinded him—moved on.

Billy didn't have grand ambitions he realized.

He just wanted to be free from everything.

Maybe he was too young to think about this, but he really wanted to run away.

He wanted to run away from everything.

He saw Notch and Shadrach walking over to him.

"W-why are you guys here?"

Shadrach and Notch smiled. "Let's go! It was Notch's idea. I told him that I saw you leaving and had a feeling you were here."

Billy smiled. They were just teenagers. Anything went.

They ran.

The forests sounded an alarm.

The world was beginning to close in on itself.

It was silent.

It would never allow horrors to be allowed.

Billy, Shadrach, and Notch approached the tyrannical forest, a new place to die; passing by a new road, Broken Road.

A man wearing a mask saw them in the forest, but he didn't care. He was the one who had been collecting souls at a previous large battle between adventurers and monsters. He was a spectator during that time and used a portal to escape.

Right now, he was focused on his relentless goal.

He had to stop the beasts from killing the boys.

He struck and beat the beasts one by one, leaping tens of meters from spot to spot to make sure not a single beast came unnoticed.

The boys moved forward, not knowing the mighty man that saved their lives.

Not every powerful man only had darkness in his heart. Many still saw the light that shone at the horizon, though coming at the cost of a deep darkness lading their actions, because with great power came the difficulty to see nuance when their unhindered, unlimited actions struck extremely powerfully without compromise.

The beasts were necessary for the forest, but the man was killing them all.

The forest grew weaker that day.

But the Billy, the Shadrach, and the Notch, the kings and queens of this world, human beings who deserved all, were safe.

Ultimately, everything came at the price.

Eventually, Billy, Shadrach, and Notch faced Goldberg and the goblins.

The masked man would have brought them, but he would leave them here, minding his own business now that he had killed some beasts. He only needed a few ingredients from the beasts anyway. But he just extended a little effort to help. Now that the boys were caught, he didn't really care after that. Plus, the goblins and the boys might be on the same side now.

Goldberg recognized them. "Good morning. You guys are travelers right?"

"Yeah..." said Billy.

"That's right. Are you heading to the city? Why not come with us?"

"No, we were leaving actually.

Goldberg was glad the goblins were not listening because he had made sure he moved far away from the group just to engage with a group of older travelers. Plus, the goblins didn't really care.

Goldberg nodded, saying that the boys only had to walk past them.

Billy, Shadrach, and Notch obeyed, passing by the goblins.

This time, Goldberg had their back.

When the boys finally passed, they were free.

They ran, laughing like children all over again.

Their friends and family were back in the city. But those were older friends and family they knew, none of them knowing what it was like to be them. Their emotions and trauma affected them on a daily basis, and no one could help them. Not a single person made them feel valid. Everybody just told them to keep marching on, as if nothing had happened. They expected the usual responsibilities and duties from them, and they tried their best. But soon, they reached their limits and broke.

That was why they were here. They wanted to be free from the expectations of a normal life, because they were not normal anymore.

The city didn't feel like a home anymore. It felt like a cage. Maybe, it always had felt like that, and they just realized now. Maybe, this was the truth that set them free. They would finally reach the stars together.

The trauma they experienced together bound them together, especially since they were only teenagers, young enough to believe in friendships that lasted forever.

Though this friendship was built on dreams, maybe that was enough.

An aforementioned group of protégés sighted them. As mentioned before, they included a researcher-detective, a skillful pike-maker, a missionary-chaplain, and a well-equipped swordsman-crossbowman.

The boys were never truly free from the city's influences, despite the disruptions the Just and the goblins had brought.

The protégés told them to ride on.

They each rode magical carpets that floated in mid-air and flew very fast.

The boys nodded and rode, still in good cheer.

Their destination was a new city, the fourth city from Antipolo City. Basically, three intermediate cities lay between this new city and Antipolo.

Antipolo was out of the picture, but everyday, it leaked its influences.

During their long travel, the boys saw giant hornless rhinos (Paraceratherium) and other strange humanoid animals with various blends between bats, dogs, cats, and other common animals and humans. Eventually, at the end of their journey, the boys arrived at a small shop where the protégés told them to put on the cheap clothes they bought for them. It was a shop in the middle of nowhere that appeared magically when visitors came, being invisible for the most part.

When the boys put on the clothes, a tinge of nostalgia got them.

It was a nostalgia of a thousand experiences, hot days, night walks, and communal experiences. Too many things occupied their mind to the point of making them stare into nowhere with this caught-up glare, like they were being eaten up inside, not a single thought entertaining them with peaceful imaginations. The world was too peaceful and relaxing for them.

It was too okay.

The beating heart of trauma made the normal seem terrifying, each corner and shadow a terror upon the night.

The beautiful sun and sky consistent throughout their memories made them tremble inconspicuously. It was the tranquil moments throughout their lives that left them sweating at the brow. That was why they were scared now.

They wished only to be safe.

But they could not do anything. They only had to accept that.

They regained hope.

But the world would not let them lay still.

It called them to take up arms and fight!

Get the hell out of there and move! it said.

You dare sit down and lay still!

Move you brats!

Time to fight this world amiss!

Go to hell! And succeed!

You must become great warriors of power and strength.

Don't let this world claim you! Become great kings and queens upon this land!

Take them all. Kill all those who oppose you.

Become your men!

Become your selves!

Become unhinderable!

Shut out the voices that say otherwise!

Shifting to the protégés, they didn't care whether the boys did anything significant. They didn't expect them to. It was not in their agenda. They just did it as an aside, and it was typical in the culture of this world to care for the elderly, stay with one's extended family, and extend hospitality even toward strangers. But even if that was the case, they still made a choice to help a group of boys.

They would allow the boys to follow them for the meantime, not really losing much to do this.

They had hundreds of servants and followers, but they were doing resource collection right now far away in their shared estate.

The protégés themselves were traveling and achieving big quests here and there, a routine they had been doing for several years now. It was a monthly thing for them to travel and take on a series of quests all around the region.

Meanwhile, a tall man stood, accompanied by a group of goblins with a hobgoblin leader, a mimic and two demons, and group of humans. "I am the Destroyer," he said.

While the group of humans kept poking enemies with long-range skills, the rest of the group made sure to keep their distance from their enemies to avoid getting caught.

When the enemies finally began grabbing the crystals they wanted, the tall man's group began positioning closer, baiting the enemies to react too early. Even if the enemies had control of the chamber where the crystals were, the tall man's group still had a chance to steal the crystals. He leapt forward and used a skill that stunned an enemy group of humans.

His hobgoblins followed up by barraging them with close-range spells and projectiles.

The mimic and two demons joined as well, tanking damage for the hobgoblins and dealing some heavy damage as well. 

The enemy was wrong to begin taking the crystals in front of the enemies, and they got destroyed one by one. Though, if they began taking the crystals a minute before the tall man's group saw, they would have gotten away with it and possibly turned on the tall man and destroyed him and his group.

Even now, forces were working together for common goals.

The crystals and spoils were divided evenly among the winners.

The tall man soon got word of the movement of adventurers into hobbit territories. The hobbits had helped him and many others, so they were distraught at this revelation, immediately preparing to journey there.

Zooming out to the broader world, even now, it  continued to turn and shift with the changes.

The adventurers chose a more violent route instead of making peace with the hobbits due to their more violent and controlling nature, especially seen with their behavior toward the miners.

The New Adventurers proved that, and even if many people supported the New Adventurers, many new opponents arose like Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair and even Lord John Roger of Trogan to some degree.

However, the goblins supervened, exposing them to various conditions of life, mashing through their dynamics and momentum. Nowadays, Nathaniel maintained his influence with the people by loosening up and spreading out similar to a criminal organization in counter to intense government investigations. In contrast, John Roger was returned to his House of Notadom. Though, now the powers that he held was severely limited and shown rarely if ever to give a show of force that combined both goblin and human forces, giving a sense of officiality in their international image.

It was expected for Antipolo to consider an attack during their vulnerable post-Just time, but the previous authorities were sure that the city would be able to withstand a goblin invasion, if given time to heal a bit.

However, the goblins were ruthlessly efficient, something that hadn't been the case for centuries, breaking the expected time frame by numerous halves.

In response, many among the humans were sure someone among the goblins was an influential human commander who colluded with powerful connections all around the region. And it was no secret that goblins were one of the many playing cards of the region, given that they were often reduced to either free XP, monster fodder, slaves, or mercenary status. In fact, the term "mercenary" was too expensive and sophisticated for them most of the time. Even the lowest bracket of humans were not called the same native word if they were slaves compared to goblin slaves. "Mercenary" often came across as a dignified role when compared to how humans treated goblins. That was why the term "adventurers" existed, because the term "mercenary" wasn't accurate but also because humans left that term for human barbarian tribes or groups. When goblins came in the picture, they were nothing more than a bug. If miners were looked down by adventurers, then goblins even more so. At least the miner-adventurer thing was controversial. The goblin-human thing was not.

There was no way just any goblin infestation could reach this far. The same arrogance was felt throughout the entire region, so many cities didn't care and still thought that it was a hoax or a fake. Goblins were nothing, they said. But that only represented the dominating perspective. In this world, unique individuals played a bigger slice in the picture. This was why the tall man with his diverse group members with goblins, humans, and demons surpassed others.

Returning to the three boys, Billy was sitting down inside a large guild office, but it was quiet except for the sounds: soft murmurs of conversation, rustling of papers, distant footsteps, occasional coughs and throats clearing, faint hum of the wind through the open windows, rock mining and wood construction outside, and slight rustle of clothing as people moved about. Right now, Billy, Notch, Shadrach, and the protégés were at the edges of their city destination.

Even wth everything that happened over the last 2 months, it was just the equivalent of Tuesday for everyone present. Naturally, it did have an impact, and even everyday life was affected, leading to people conversing about the past events and being changed culturally as a result, such as an increase in vigilance toward goblins. So the topic of goblins was partially moot in some regular places, but not so much among the higher social classes.

Politics played a role here as per usual.

However, it did still feel like everyone was trying to get by, even now. Billy, Notch, and Shadrach still could enjoy themselves though; many novel sights, places, and establishments greeted and waved.

The roads here were sloping, adventurous, and much less level because the area was more mountainous, lying along a 50-kilometer ridge.

Even if Antipolo itself was in a mountainous area, the new city was even more so, overlooking a large lake with a volcano.

Backn in Antipolo, tens of laborers walked the neighborhood streets, very clearly engaging in construction. Here, the main road were much more cleaner with lots of garden plant stalls thriving.

Since the soil had volcanically rich, it produced main goods such as pineapple, coffee, banana, cacao, root vegetables, camote, cassava, and cut flowers, among others.

Its population paled in comparison to Emerald Haven.

The thunders of war continued hundreds of kilometers away.

Billy, Notch, and Shadrach was right to believe in hope, because much could be learned by stepping out.

But it was not hope existing in a vacuum. The protégés, the former adventurers, the masked man, and Goldberg helping them was a very good message, and one that showed that even despite everything, the past events still mattered even now. Ironically, Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair was absent recently, but the three boys didn't fault him for it. They were still young and very forgiving.

However, Billy, Notch, and Shadrach could not comprehend the complexity of their world so much, even if they knew sensually what they experienced. Their knowledge was still lacking much, but as they matured, they would look back and realize the depth of their firsthand accounts of those past events as young teenagers. They didn't know what went on in Goldberg's head, Nathaniel's head, or in the head of any other complex person they had encountered. But that was life for them.

They would continue on despite the greatness of the world and how much they didn't understand about it.

Relocating focus to a more everyday level, the three boys had varying demeanors and concerns.

Regarding their demeanors, to begin, Notch wondered if God saw their actions and thought it was bad, eating one of the three apples he procured from one of the protégés.

Second, Shadrach scarcely wrote down a list of notes regarding their journey before he disembarked from the magic carpets. He got Notch's second apple.

Finally, Billy was the one carrying most of their things, more focused on being the eldest among the three. He kept his gait stable and dominant. He was also eating the last of Notch's three apple.

Moving on to some feedback from the protégés, they led the boys down a path that led to a million places. The boys' meanings would become refined soon enough.

Overall, the boys' present dispositions had bearing on their exact future state.

When it came to the boys' concerns, being 14 years old, Notch, for one, still hadn't been able to make peace with his parents. "I'm sorry that I let you down," he told them before he left. "I guess I'm a disappointment."

All these voices in his head got loud. He wished he could shut them out.

Two, Shadrach was still 13, so he was still very optimistic, even now. But the trauma affected him, albeit with postponed effect.

Lastly, Billy was still adventurous and curious, still unsure about himself and things. He was 18 years old, so he was stretching himself out of his comfort zone and was the reason why the boys left the city in the first place.

Their hands pressed neatly against the ground, the world pressing against them further and further, their eyes glancing at the beautiful sky. Even now, their hearts leapt and whirled like clothes wrapped tightly together in a comfortable forest glade.

Their hearts, while tired and broken beyond a sense of belief, found joy in their surroundings and a vegetation nearby. 

Meanwhile, the boys arrived at a garden, led here by the protégés who were curious about it.

The garden, while verdant and damp, was an ancient trinket of history insomuch that scholars visited it frequently, with a sense of impunity given their inclinations and the bureaucratic variability of their work.

In contrast to the busy-body scholars' rationale of visiting this place, the protégés were here to pay their interest and respects, as it was a popular landmark here. Though they had seen many times before, they were here to indulge their feelings of nostalgia.

The protégés stared at the vastness of the space; looking at the walls that shielded it from the winds and prevented the rain from pouring so heavily upon it through the path of accumulation. Furthermore, the garden was safe-guarded, and the sun fell upon it with care; gardeners strangely making their way hastily throughout the arrangement of the plants like they were in a game requiring speed and rhythm. As for the reason behind this, the plants were magical and strange likewise; requiring sunlight and forms of magic to sustain their incompatabilities with the soil, climate, and magical properties here.

The boys were excited, their lips going only through two phases of open excitement and closed wonder.

Conflicting with the pouring relentless embrace of the valley breeze, under the sun, sweat dripped down from the noses and extremities of their faces and the sides of their necks, shoulders, bellies, and legs, hurriedly coating them with a protective layer of freshness in response to the lingering pressure of tropical heat.

The love taps of the rain-befriending sun crushed the southwest-heading winds and then made pie out of them, hurling an even stronger rainy monsoon at the peoples of the land amid the sun's peeking rays.

Even now, the sky burst forth with water and color, shining the earth with its glorious name.

Now, seeing this beauty, a fire lit up in Billy' heart, something that he saw in Goldberg's eyes—Ambition.

He didn't know what it meant, but he would have to calm it for now.

The whispers of the road of ambition raised their wolf heads for the first time, seeing a potential target for their taunts, mockery, and consumption.

Billy was at that age where ambition began to eat its meals for the first time, having been dormant and listless during childhood. The kind of ambition children felt was more akin to curiosity if anything, but with curiosity satiated came a more involved and intense desire to conquer challenges blocking the natural path.

It was about time for him to get conscripted if he wasn't an essential worker or adventurer already.

Billy knew beauty when he saw it, and it ate at him that he was not being pressured to excel at his age. He felt that he was not being laden with enough responsibilities for people at his age. He hated being complacent.

Fire burned in his heart.

He wished only to become everything—the same wish held by many adults in a time of turmoil and humiliation, contrasting that of the listless, callous ones.

Speaking of humiliation, the goblin attack on Antipolo City was described as "the humiliating reminder."

Along with that description, an international coalition of adventurers that had started off as a single coalition in one of the major city-states began to rise to the occasion. They would stomp the goblins and free Antipolo.

Like revolutions, they poured through the lands, crowding the routes through which the goblins could escape, passing through the "Earthly Territories," those held predominantly by hobbits. For context, it was there where James Boulevard was snatching homes away from hobbits and the tall guy's group, with goblins, humans, and demons, was heading to protect them.

They struck gold when they found an opening.

The goblins might have completed the quest to assaulting and successfully occupying the human state. But they did not prepare for revenge.

The humans hated seeing their kind be slaughtered mercilessly.

A series of human attacks that would become known as the "Freedom Counteroffensive" would begin in 5 days.

Goblins had thought through their prime offensive well, but they lacked much information with regard to the other human-states. Though they knew that humans had a history of establishing international alliances for reasons such as sharing culture, adventurism, and trade, they were praying that the humans would not retaliate and abandon the state. This was an unintended consequence, one that they did not want to address in drafting.

However, they did begin stocking Antipolo with goblin-fitted weapons, armor, and supplies for the droves of new goblin soldiers that would fully adjust to the new goblin-occupied state in 3 days. 

They hoped to contradict history which had time and time again spoke of the greatness of human flesh and blood, while speaking disdainfully of the pitiable acts of goblin leaders in their attempt to secure a piece of the regional pie.

The sky was the limit.

Meanwhile, Billy was approached by a recruiter who told him that any and all were allowed to join the coalition. He said Billy's role would be carrying mana cores. Though, he didn't mention that it would involve taking care of enemy traps using long, magical sticks.

Billy looked at Notch and Shadrach, both of whom weren't given the same invitation. He didn't want to get swept up in the current situation, and he wanted to stay by his close friends' side.

However, he remembered an event the time when he was still an apprentice miner. This event involved him and the other apprentice miners at the time fighting each other, and he wondered if they could be a part of a conflict bigger than themselves. He wanted to set an example and show the boys that he as the eldest could do good by the past experiences they shared in light of the frustrations brought about by recent events and the lack of an idealistic culmination of events.

He wanted to change things, even now.

He accepted the invitation to conquer.

The recruiter paved the narrowest path to the light of God.

Destruction would commence.

If Notch and Shadrach chose to leave him, they knew that Billy would die.

They had to stay and somehow join the coalition.

They asked if they could join.

The recruiter declined, saying that they would rather have matured individuals in the ranks than waste 15 years of growth when they could have waited 3 or so more years for the child to mature fully in their time of growth spurt.

Notch and Shadrach didn't know what to do, but Billy and the protégés convinced them to let it go and focus on their journey. "Billy is in a different path," said one of the protégés. "Let him learn and understand the world. Then, we can ask him then what he thinks about all of this."

"Just like that, okay?" Billy said a familiar list of phrases characteristic of him. "Just need to completely obliterate everything. 

"I am genuinely going to complete like a frickin' quest. 

"This is actual adventurer activity, no joke. 

"Rambling on, taking on, fighting on like a soldier or something. 

"That crazy kind. 

"Everybody knows that that's the best world... in the world. 

"It's like wonderful, joyous, amazing... Yeah!"

He imagined thousand giants looking at him from afar with encouraging gazes.

He remembered his wish to become a rich, fat man wearing a top hat and armor with cool clothes, rings on his hand, tiny legs, and a round body shape.

In conclusion, Billy's path diverged from Notch and Shadrach, and the protégés were essential components in this event, with all its subsequent consequences.

Notch and Shadrach's worlds were shifting.

At one point, they had wanted to rule the world, but their definition of this continued to be incomplete.

Ten hours later, elsewhere, in the Earthly Territories, a man stood, watching over a wide area. "Count the bodies," he said.

James Boulevard—one of the adventurers that represented not only the proxy adventurers of John Roger but also the old adventurers—died at the hands of the tall man's group.

Nearby, familiar faces became exposed: Elizabeth, Mary, and Sarah.

Diverging from the everyday level, broadening the perspective, a status reminder of the overall world 73 days since Maverick's first appearance would help make sense of everything.

As for the past events, they included the Marchacha attack—the 48 Apprentice Miners Incident—the Just's attack, commonly known as "the Great Slaughter"—the goblin attack and occupation on Antipolo City—among others.

The living included Billy—Notch—Shadrach—the group of protégés—Goldberg; his wife, Priscilla; his two kids, Nash and Leia; and the representative with him—Nathaniel Lero Sinclair, Catherine Orlov Sinclair, and his two kids—Lord John Roger of Trogan—Sprutnoa—Inframark—the remaining apprentice miners; Ethan, Sophia, Noah, Liam, Alexander, Oliver, Ava, Jackson, Benjamin, and Nathan—Jiji, Redmouth, Saturn, and Roark—Jashuki—the goblins, adventurers, and other people that survived the Antipolo attack and subsequent goblin occupation—the Marchacha goblins—Kahul, the representative of the Marchacha goblins, who was working with Goldberg—Roots—the Hundred Goblin Titles—the Tall Man—Silavush—Divrese—Ariella—Isabella de la Cruz—the former prisoners; Bean, Catherine, Samuel, Joseph, Benjamin, and William—the former 69 other proxy adventurers under John Roger, many of which had gone missing in action or died—the thousand goblins finding a place to establish a settlement—the adventurer party whom Nathaniel had hired to help Shadrach for several days—the miners under Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair—Nathaniel's adjutants—the adventurers who had gone into Nathaniel's mine to find the Marchacha goblins—the 47 friends, 20 contacts, and 15 enemies that Nathaniel's former apprentice miners had made by networking—the masked man—the trolls that had killed lots of adventurers—the young woman that Notch had seen sitting in the street—the various groups the post-Incident apprentice miners had seen in Northe Road; the small boy frustrated with a magical gemstone, the families competing over a ring with magic, and the adventurers discussing casually in separate groups with the wind giving them privacy—the woman who questioned the funding of the calfear's capture—the officials present during the official event—the older men who had cheered on the adventurers stopping the attack—the girl with fire magic in the school with red and white banners—and the monks who had interacted with the group of protégés—among others.

The dead included Millie—Maverick—the Just (Yesami)—48 apprentice miners of Nathaniel Leroy Sinclair—marginalized adventurers who attacked citizens—adventurers who died against the Just—goblin messenger killed by Goldberg—the goblin necromancer and his group—and 30 Adventurers of John Roger killed by the goblin necromancer—Sarah, Elizabeth, and Mary—the adventurers and goblins that died during the goblin-human engagement—the two adventurers who shared a drink with Goldberg after saving him—Charles Finch—Evernight—Saddest—and James Boulevard—among others.

Other parties included many former or dormant entities: the former King of Antipolo City—the city authorities—the new adventurers—the adventurer guild—the church—the miners—the laborers—the soldiers—and the civilians—among others.

Touching briefly on a two present moments, first, Goldberg was playing pantintero with kids in a large crowd and playing with cheap artifacts called "Droppers" that created small explosions, the equivalent of a fire cracker.

The goblins allowed Goldberg to ease the everyday people with cultural forms of entertainment.

Second, Sophia and Ava, who both wore bamboo hats inlaid with metal like Millie, began training together, joining an underground community with many women who used to work as guards. By now, the prevailing priorities, strategies, needs, tactics, and trends had taken on new forms.

Anyway, Antipolo was not Antipolo right now, but it would continue to diverge with no stops. Soon enough, even people in the streets would dress and put on outfits and attires starkly in contrast to the fashion in the days before Maverick died. 

With reference to the current socio-political context in Antipolo, it was interesting because the New Adventurers represented both new and old values. It was new in the sense that it represented a shift toward centralization with the removal of proxy adventurers, which many marginalized adventurers and some nobles who openly had proxy adventurers rallied against, but it also advocated for adventurism. As for why marginalized adventurers hated this new movement, they strongly associated centralization with factionalism; contrastingly, factionalism was heavily weakened by the Just attack and the goblin attack and occupation, resulting in an announced need for the government to intervene and set facilities up directly and with limited checks and balances. Though, many scholars would dispute the validity of this correlation between factionalism and the crises, with the characterizations presented, and others cast scrutiny on the possible interpretations behind the announced need for the government to consolidate power. Continuing the main topic of differing viewpoints, many everyday people in Nathaniel's side opposed the New Adventurers, but they didn't necessarily advocate for a return to traditional values, because adventurism dominated traditions. What these everyday people did want now was "deadventurification," or extinction by destruction of adventurism as it was traditionally known to be, bordering arguments to extirpate the state-sponsored role adventurers played altogether, which many would argue that it directly led to the death of adventurism. In conclusion, the New Adventurers, the everyday people represented by Nathaniel, the nobles, and the marginalized adventurers made up different sides, and even within them, various perspectives disputed the nuances and the limitations of each side's goals. Regarding multi-partisan actionable initiatives, some cross-factionally popular individuals and multi-partisan teams had tried finding a compromise between the sides, but the goblins disrupted everything, taking over the government suddenly. And now, an international human coalition was on its way in just 5 days. Shifting to a broader statement with respect to the effectiveness of knowledge in this pressing period of strife, chaos, conflict, and confusion, and by extension, the effectiveness of this analysis—many was actual, but not everything was communicated fully. In other words, a gigantic discrepancy divided what was actual and what was known. 

This could be considered an oversimplified scratching-the-surface look into a real situation, and numerous experts would argue that it was very inaccurate and blatantly wrong and misleading. But it would do for now.

Returning to the present from Notch and Shadrach's perspectives, they were currently riding a magic carpet together with one of the protégés, heading to another side of their current city—the City of Taktak.

Relocating into a more vividly descriptive note, the silent throes of earthly shadows dispersed into the atmosphere; breathless noises shuddered about in anticipation of the great feat to be committed by Billy and the other soldiers; a hundred voices leveraged the nightly air and let their voices be heard throughout the prevailing darkness as a show of force; shallow waters tickled the air, precipitation carrying along its usual routine; the loud creaks of doors and papers getting stuck in gaps in desks created an awful sensation of irritating familiarity; the soundless cracks that stretched whenever a man lifted himself out of his sleeping tent and engaged in martial locomotion soared flightlessly into the night, expecting to fall; soldiers hurried about on quick legs, their soles unmitigated by preciously woven footwear and sandals; light clothes embraced their little wrists and shoulders, keeping them close to comfort; nightly gowns were pulled away for the coming human-monster skirmishs expected to transpire; fire burst in the darkness; a sword of light emanated in the darkness; and an former adventurer powerful enough to crash through doors exited a camp and began to swallow the monsters whole with the singeing edge of his glowing blade. But this was just a false alarm. No monster wave here. Only a bunch of beasts that had forgotten their limits.

The touch of swords massaged a monster's nest, as voices scurried about, making their way past the looming bark of trees; questions popped up like savages, quickly assaulting each other and crashing deep into the minds of those who heard. 

"When are we going to war?" was one of the questions, striking deep into the chord of the souls present. It was rhetorical, one used to remind the soldiers of a war so tangible that their brows sweated, their seats began to recoil in frustration, their arms reeled back and toward the farthest door they could find, and their hands tasted blood.

Former adventurers who had only seen monsters in their dens had not seen a war as vast as that required in a siege.

Metaphorically, this was a thousand men and a thousand goblins all at once; as opposed to a few people punching each other on a stage.

Meanwhile, Notch and Shadrach spotted the camp wherein the soldiers here fought the bunch of beasts, passing through on the magic carpet. Taktak was training soldiers for war, and they were not yet mobilizing at the bridgehead.

This was also where the two boys thought Billy was, since they saw him enter a staircase that looked like it led to the training camp.

Soon, they left; the magic carpets ridden by Notch, Shadrach, and the protégés stopping and creating space between them for the passengers to disembark neatly and in an organized manner.

In the distance, they saw the lake. Even without anyone seeing them, the tides (not true ones) swung left and right; who knew where they led?

Notch adorned a lavender-purple fitted jacket with embroidery depicting human ambition and decorative buttons with adventurer motifs, his hands tightly pressing against his mustard-yellow tight-fitted knee-length trousers, his arms lifted above his head and showing off the shape of his form with the inclusion of a red hand-following and -accentuating cloak that played a discordant role into his overall outfit, stockings paving the path to salvation just by joining his outfit alone. But that was not all to his form and to his character.

He held a pickaxe, walking down the path, with magic guiding his steps. The protégés were careful not to let him go alone, so they kept a magical aura protecting him and determining the footing in which he would take, slashing time and constraits off the board. Their goal was organizational, and to process a young boy like Notch, they had to be swift and regulatory. If the time came for him to recognize his power and worth, they would then free him, pouring him out in the world like a vial, and through him, castrate armies where it was needed. But that was not the end of Notch.

That was only a latent possibility.

Notch stood defiantly against the sights of the clouds, the weight of the woodland, and the raging beasts that signed the strench fumes governing his past events in his mind—the sacred art of looking closely became his weapon, supported by the crushing power, Shadrach, whose arms stretched forth in literary volition, creating masterpieces of a few words with just a glance. Shadrach knew the powers that he was gifted, and he would let it go hastily and clumsily to the world. This was their allied power.

When they given a chance to use a pickaxe, Notch struck deep, exhausting the force that rocks held and mightly impinging upon them with his pickaxe stick. He crushed them, breaking them apart, destroying the fabric of their sanity, bulldozing them to sleep, putting a drop of water and scrubbing them off with soap. He pincered (precisely speared) deep.

Drifting to an emotional level, Notch sat down.

Not a single emotion touched his heart.

He slightly smiled with emptiness in his eyes.

Regarding his recent psychological history, since the troll attack that left his former 48 co-apprentice miners dead, he would go on the streets and imagine shadows of trolls instead of buildings and imagine passersby with mauled faces, destroyed bodies, and blood bleeding everywhere. The incident never went away, no matter how detached everything felt toward him. He often cried in private, and many had called him sensitive and lazy when he showed signs of depression, not a single person asking him how he felt or how he was doing. They thought he was being rebellious just like the rest of the teenagers his age around him. 

Overall, that was a strong reason why he left Antipolo City. 

Extending this case study to Shadrach, even now, despite using writing as a way to distract himself, never addressed what happened, only pretending and lying. He didn't address the issues, always hiding and keeping his mind tucked away from them. He only focused on distracting himself and slowly finding beauty in his environment, but a heavy weight pressed against his mind and soul. He was similarly struggling with low spirits, and he felt like the weight of the clouds was upon him. 

All in all, this was the truth of a horrific incident, something so dramatized, sensationalized, normalized, and desensitized among people who had never experienced it. But they wanted to move past it, like everyone else after the end. Their life didn't make sense, and the circumstances around their fortunate experiences and unfortunate ones were murky and left to their interpretation. With respect to broader perspectives held culturally within a cosmopolitan landscape, many views gathered recognition. First, if they were grateful to the universe or to God that they survived, then so were those past circumstances a result of good will. Second, if they believed that they were special that they survived, then so were those circumstances a consequence of their special nature. Third, if their good works reaped harvest that they survived, then so were those circumstances an outcome of a yin-and-yang type of karma. Fourth, if they let it go as a byproduct of variability, then so were those circumstances a culmulative reaction to underlying factors, many of which only played a peripheral role. Lastly, if they saw no meaning in this, then it truly didn't have to matter for now. In a continuative note, they could find that meaning later. Moreover, for now, they could just let it all go, and what that meant was conditional to subjective consideration. Furthermore, their perspectives would grow overtime, and they would learn, growing deeper in their core beliefs or finding new ones onto which to hold. To finish, what mattered now was that they pressed onward, however messy it made them feel.

Elucidating the relationship of the boys with the protégés, the protégés thought of setting up a variety of different places for the boys to enter, placing them inside a very small shop where they could start selling stuff. They thought that it would be good to give them a job where they could begin to recover their pace. The goal was for the boys to relax and take their time.

This was easier said than done, because even if the protégés could ask around, they wouldn't necessarily get a positive answer with regard to taking in the boys and hiring them. In the end, they had to pay their metaphorical tithe in the sense that they had to go by the traditional route and just have the boys join them back at their shared estate.

The protégés were not happy with this, because they knew that the other protégés were going to start complaining again. But it was a minor overblown issue.

The protégés were just people with their own goals really, and some of them were fine with taking in lost boys. The rest were not. 

Now, the consistent goal among the protégés present with the boys was to keep an eye on the boys for now, so that's what they did.

Instead of staying here at this city, they called for another trip. This excited the boys.

As soon as they left, it was all fun and games again, as the boys and the protégés played games during their magic carpet drive. The magic carpets only flew a 4-or-so feet in the air, adjusting quickly for slopes, but it couldn't climb cliffs.

As soon as the boys began to feel sleepy some hours later with the drizzle pouring and the cloaks of two of the protégés covering them, the protégés told them to let themselves sleep.

They fell asleep and woke up hours later.

They weren't at the city yet, and it was humanly tranquil with only the sound of wind currents, the flapping of their clothes and things, the hushed voices of the protégés as they talked genially, and the weakened glare of the setting sun. Magic mitigated the damage and heat of the sun's rays.

The feeling of the carpet gave them ease; though, it left them worried enough to look around.

They passed through gigantic forests with large roads. Beasts and monsters were present, but they couldn't catch the magic carpets. The trees also protected them from sight. The magic carpets were quiet as well, and the sound of the protégés were magically weakened.

This was how different life was for the wealthier protégés compared to numerous people at Antipolo City.

Moving on to a new stage in their journey, they reached a large spot where hundreds of students were being asked to shoot their first bows. It was a village area, so not all of these people were being tasked with greater purposes in life. But they still tried to make do with what they had. They also received help from someone from the city.

The bows were hand-crafted just for them, and the person training the students was a professional.

The teacher, Narikatula, gave them time to divide into groups and discuss methods.

The discussion would reveal their effectiveness in critical thinking and creativity, but even then, Narikatula emphasized that though good methods were going to get them points, the point of discussion was to give each individual an opportunity to think critically about how to use the bow effectively in combat.

The students were joined by Narikatula's helpers from the city, who offered advice and helped answer questions as a facilitator in these groups.

The protégés stood nearby and observed. The fact that they could just do this was crazy.

They were going through so many different places and events and just hanging out, especially with the Just attack and the goblin invasion.

They were hands-off, and they had the tools and resources to leave quick and stay for months in one place before leaving again.

"How's it going everybody? We haven't had a good show in a long time, but this looks like it'll be a good one. I haven't heard of anyone really talking about this."

One of the protégés went forward and opened a portal that poured out a bunch of different rare bows onto the ground. It was trash for him that he could have liquidated easily into some cash. However, he also got XP by giving it to these students.

The students and the teacher were astounded, and he was glad.

The rest of the protégés minded their business, being very hands-off with each other as well.

Notch saw the scene through the lens of Antipolo, the many hundreds running about in the goblin attack, the many apprentice miners killed in the troll's attack, the almost lethal attempt at playing with magic with Goldberg and Millie overseeing them, the walking in the streets with Nathaniel during the Just's attack. Everything coalesced for this moment.

He, along with Shadrach, who had been writing after the apprentice miners were killed by the troll, were children of Antipolo.

If they were older, more ambitious, and cynical, a lust for the vial of power would have emerged in their hearts in light of the protégés' privilege. But they were still young and innocent. Even if they were poor, they only looked up to the protégés.

However, the protégés didn't want a paternalistic relationship with them. They cared more about promoting self-determination, empowerment, and self-respect in the two boys. 

Moving on to the antithesis of the relationship between the protégés and the two boys, many of the protégés' peers were more controlling as their parents and culture were with them in their education and upbringing. Overall, higher privilege created higher expectations to excel. Consequently, being expected to excel led to feelings of duty and possibly even a sense of deservedness and entitlement when their duty wasn't as idealistic as they was told to perceive it, leading to complacency with power. To inquire into this in more general terms, because they were expected to achieve great things, wealthy people might experience entitlement, and so feel like they could do what they want, given that they suffered to get the positions they were prepared for. In contrast, they also experienced a sense of disillusionment when their culminated career didn't meet the ideals ingrained into them during their formative stages. 

Shifting to the peers' relationship with commoners, the peers often heard the most vilifying reports on events concerning everyday people, leading to enmity with the lower classes. Classism was an adverse mechanism in response to the stresses and expectations upon them by society, especially those of the plebeians who idealized the wealthy life. Factors such as a lack of exposure to everyday experiences and people played a role into this. 

Broadening the scope, wealthy individuals were surrounded by society, concepts, and the abstract, as their position in society was most influential. As a result, marrying these societal ideals, concepts, and abstractions with reality often led to frustrations and disillusionment, leading to enmity. In other words, wealthy individuals were in the most abstract, conceptual, and societally idealistic (by the terms of others, society, and people, not by these individuals themselves) position of influence, thus leading to frustration and disillusionment when these didn't match cleanly with reality. Comparing two different sides, some of them might want to be normal as a result, and others might accept that they were superior as society perceived them to be, embodying the self-fulfilling prophesy of the stereotypical arrogant and self-serving member of the higher class—leading to behaviors characterized by elitism, exclusivity, and a lack of empathy. It could also be a facade for the insecurities they felt for not matching up with people's expectations. In conclusion, being able to live a normal life was impossible for these people; thus, each member of the higher class was given an opportunity to cope in their own way and find a path that made sense to them, even if they would never be truly "normal." 

Exploring the concept further, even if wealthy people pretended not to care and chose to "be themselves," it only reinforced that wealthy man or woman image in the minds of the people. Therefore, they would never escape the bondage of what they were supposed to be and what they were not in actuality—the expectations of a controlling mother (society) seeking a genius musician in a normal child (individuals judged and burdened with expectations solely based on their socioeconomic status at birth). Furthermore, ironically, sometimes, making a normal child into a genius only underscored their incapability as a consequence of their specialization in a single aspect and their confusion and helplessness in every other aspect that a normal balanced upbringing would elucidate to them: throwing everything away for a single system or methodology was not practical at all when seen from a well-rounded glance in an ever-evolving world. Though, this perspective was not shared by all, as many would dispute that "the brief duration of human life and [their] limited powers [were] so far from permitting [them] to aspire to such extensive acquisitions, that excellence even in one department [was] within the reach of few, and those individuals most effectually [promoted] the general process, who concentrate their thoughts on a limited portion of the field of inquiry." Anyway, well-adjusted wealthy people learned to accept that theirs was the skill set assigned to them and moved forward anyway. Shifting focus to a poetic phrase, "with great power came great responsibility," not something everyone found easy to accept when it was forced upon them. 

Treading comparatively into a contrasting viewpoint, in an individualistic school of thought, this whole analysis might come off very differently. To explain, many individualistic thinkers would contend that the wealthy were better doing what they felt like doing, even at the cost of common people's wellbeing, as long as it fostered self-determination, empowerment, and self-respect in each individual, which contrasted with utilitarian or collectivist views.

Relating the individualistic viewpoint to a broader sphere, the protégés were making intentional effort here, and even if the internal logic of others might seek a limitedly more rational basis for helping others, the internal logic of the protégés merely ended in kindness and a "just felt like it" response. Enlarging this focus, some people fell in love counterintuitively and helped others with no strings attached, except for a sense of fulfillment at doing something good for the world.

Significantly, the issue was that life was complex and couldn't easily be demarcated into red and blue. 

The complexity of life was also why the two boys were so curious, because they knew that and that nothing made sense intuitively. Hence, everything was counterintuitive, and not every agent was a Rational or omniscient one—with varying knowledge regarding each, differing levels, widely unique considerations, and stubbornly hard-to-incorporate-into-a-model factors. Speaking on a more practical level, arguing for the instantaneous application of extreme measures would result consistently in disruption and unintended consequences.

In conclusion, the complexity of life and human decision-making was why the boys and the protégés were equal in being learners.

Returning to the moment, the protégés and the boys grabbed hands playfully. One of the protégés let Notch hold his hand as a safely cable while leaning backward and even dancing with it and punching it as the protégé kept his arm still, readjusting it every time to catch Notch's punch. During this, he talked with the other protégés positively about Shadrach, who was surrounded by the other protégés watching him write. Shadrach was proudly explaining to them what he had written. The distance between them shortened, because the protégés were friendly, sociable, and permissive when it came to Notch and Shadrach's playfulness.

After the students were done with their archery training, the teacher walked up to the protégés, having worn an attractice attire to receive them. Any help that went toward archery and helping people in these unfocused areas was in her best interests. So even now, she abandoned her pride a bit and became that woman.

The protégés glanced at her once before turning away, except for the protégé who had given the students the rare bows, who now moved forward to meet her appropriately.

She might have taken it that she wasn't that attractive, but the protégés were just too highbrow in their preoccupation, eschewing the need to satisfy themselves with lecherous gazes at women, though to an extent such that attractive women needed to pay extra regard to how they could attract that highbrow side of them.

After the meet-and-greet between the teacher and the rare-bow–giving protégé was completed, the protégés then received the opportunity to move to the nearby city district that directly led to this village area. She informed of the various provisions of that area, such as several inns, open cafeterias, and libraries. Her words were coated with an energizing quality.

She only mentioned the libraries because she knew the protégés could likely connect themselves with people that could give them access to them. She never actually visited a library herself, but she heard very good things about them.

"The world is a cruel place, it is," said one of the protégés, Rishamasi, "I imagine everybody knows that, right?"

"Indeed!" said Croashnalif. "The world has been cruel ever since it was birthed. Like a sunny branch filling up a man's breasts, it becomes so vile that it almost reeks of dust and deterioration."

"Unequivocally!" said Darikadan. "The world is truly unburdened by a needless divisional form of deceit and tearing away. Like summer flies on a morgue, it continues endlessly until it fills up the gauge—eluvie mons est deductus in æquor."

"Right!" said Levonstalo. "With that said, we must press on, my brothers and sisters! Let us be the bearer of good news!"

"Ox," they said. "Ox" was another Vikiyam term for the word "Okay." Now, he was a native of "Vikiya," the nearby city-state, and its adjective form was "Vikiyam."

Notch and Shadrach kept their hands grasping their clothes as they pressed forward, following the protégés in their path toward ambition and domination.

The teacher bowed, her form lowly, but the protégés prevented her from shaming herself by looking away—a cultural trait.

They arrived at the city, their forms divine, as they entered the inn rooms and, except for the two, slept.

Shifting to a metaphorical dissection, the bark ticked like a careful menace roaming about in search of food and water. The light broke through the curtain holes, similar to a red-hatted chief assigning to his young ones orders, curtailing relief for the benefit of coordination. The broken stride of a figure that was attempting to pass through a hallway unnoticed allowed the sun to shine unequivocably, its soundless brass-like shine emanating radiantly like ghosts on a bridge crying holy.

The figure was Notch, and behind him ran Shadrach: the boys were in play.

They reached a point in the inn where a man dragged a person inside a room, a strange scene reaching their noses. They ignored it for now.

As soon as they slept, their hearts woke up to the sound of the same man jumping down the window. They saw the body he dragged and were afraid he would come kill them if he knew they noticed.

They hid and avoided attention, looking at the door that led to the hallway that led to the doors of the inn rooms where the protégés were sleeping.

They could not do a thing but let the night take its close; the morning soon arose.

They had fallen asleep, and when they woke up, their hearts were quick-spun again like a man-puppet being dragged along a stage.

They stood up and put their tender feet on the floor, exiting through the carefully opened door. The sun was bright, shining through the open windows, reminiscent of the window through which the man had jumped down. Their kept their gazes down, as if their heads were covered at the sides and top with three hands. They left the place alongside the protégés, unaware of the man's absence. It scared them to think he was still there.

This was the city.

The quiet noises bit softly onto the streets, elevating the sense of bustling with its bright flashes of magical gleam; every sign indicated that this was a rainforest street.

The boys were prepared, tucked next to the protégés, their hands unaware of where they put them and resting at the teeth, which bit incessantly like a rabbit, afraid knowing that the man could be there any second.

The light shone brightly over the buildings and trees, the shadows filling the space below the canopies, giving the morning a cold kiss.

The boys were excited at the prospect of turning away from this stop of this journey, hoping to get away from the man. They told the protégés, but the protégés didn't know what to do except tell the guard about it. They didn't react too hastily or intensely, not wanting to scare the kids.

The light continued to shine, its glare at the boys persistent, as if it knew whence they came.

The boys readily eshewed it, telling it to back off, not wanting to let the cohesive nature of the light overtake them and crush them.

They drifted away, returning to the village area where the woman was.

The teacher stared at them, being accompanied by one of the protégés, who was a woman. The morning was kind to them, giving them fresh drinks and dinner to eat.

It was like being appreciated by a god.

The boys played with this idea of hope.

Random sounds sauntered with them.

The bow archery training was quick like butter over a hot day, the buttery sensual taste of sweat reached all over the students' bodies, engaging them in the spirit of friendship, for in a sense of togetherness within suffering there abounded opportunity for camaraderie growth.

Returning to a grounded nature, the boys listened well to the discussions, participating as if he was a child of the students, for many of the students were parents.

The protégés were unallowed to join because they were loud and boisterous, but the teacher didn't fault them for it nor did she tell them that they were not allowed to listen anyway. But she did emphasize the need for silence throughout the training session.

The boys were quiet little baby warty pigs, their little feet dangling back and forth underneath their stool chair. The lonesome dirt was given newness by their bare feet and those of the students, protégés, and the teacher.

As soon as the training ended, everyone was happy, their smiles reaching their ears. None were upset, and that gave room for the two boys to look past their past circumstances and gain life in the moment, even if it might feel too relaxing and tranquil.

The sun kept them in suspense, always reminding them of the possibility of death, so they were fine.

The boys weren't made to fight or train. Instead, they experienced what it was like on the side lines. They would soon grow up, so now was a time of exploration and first-time experience. If they were plunged into a hellscape, that would be horrible. So this was a good time for them to be themselves and kids again, after everything they had gone through.

Moving on to a more physical nature, the back and sides of the boys' wrists and hands became wet, as they wiped the sweat off their foreheads, their head, their neck, and the sides of their body. The sweat reached inside their clothes, and they soon began removing them, the moment like a prickly sharp focused embrace. The sweat was very soothing, yet it was very hot.

The protégés assured them that they could take a cold shower.

The boys were excited at the idea.

Later, one of the protégés, a giant muscly man, immediately grabbed a tree and removed them, using magic to plant it somewhere with the roots integrated cleanly, with only the ground where the tree originally was left bare and messy. It was just a message that he was the one a watching goblin had to send the food to.

The goblin walked up to him, and he handed it wrapped sweet rice cake.

The giant protégé shared it with the the protégés. "Mmm! This is so good! Thanks!" In reality, they were just normal people who spoke like everyone else. Their formal, sophisticated language earlier was more so just them joking with each other; though, they did come from formally educated backgrounds.

"What's that?" asked the protégés walking up. 

"Biko, want some?" the giant protégé said.

The protégés began to feast like wolves.

They also saved some for the boys to eat later.

"Oooh, that's really good, doesn't it?" said one of the protégés when he saw one of the protégés getting rice stuck to their face.

The protégés laughed together in response.

When they returned to the boys, the boys were lying on the grass under the shade of the rainforest trees and surrounded by tropical vegetation.

"How are you guys doing?" said one of the protégés.

"Fine," Notch and Shadrach drawled.

The protégés laughed again.

Chapter 43
Grass fields paved the land, trees dotting the landscape. Lively colors flourished like paint upon a dry wall; energizing the forces that tethered each scent exploring the landscape. Hunger catalyzed spires of growth upon the land, ambition a divine sword that enlightened all.

Men came about, like wasps engaging in protection service, fields that their hands had wrought expanding.

Swords pushed through and back; quietly striking down the feeble among the conquered.

Hands clasped rowing equipment, for rowing they did against the hobbits.

The hobbits were bubbly fellows in need of a fresh drink, but in this land, the men protected by the might bestowed upon them death.

This was before James Boulevard met demise.

Swords fell like knives operated by a new chef; sinking deep into the pot's soup. They soon became permanently scarred, but one of these swords, reinspected, reorganized, and refined, was eventually given to Billy, one of the three aforementioned boys.

Here, his hands lay again upon the earth as men sighted him, needing his help.

"Get to work, Billy, don't ask me again where to put the mana cores. I don't want you wasting your hours asking for simple things. This is not a day job. Get to work!"

Billy's hands were shaking, but he stilled them, grabbing a barrel with a few mana cores and then walking forward, trying to adjust his gait to look more upstanding but failing or clumsily breaking the momentum of his stride in the process.

He shook his head.

He met with the men.

There, they tasked him to deal with a few chores and tasks, which he had not expected to be doing once he came here. But he did the work with minimal complaint.

After he was done, the men then put him to use elsewhere.

Billy went from place to place, occupied and then reoccupied.

By the end of his work shift, he was then laid to rest with the help of a mage, who needed him to sleep earlier than usual. That if he strangled himself to sleep, it would challenge him to retaliate against morning drosiness then likely, they knew also.

With time, pressed fully, such were Billy's fidgetations that he might quell away within his soul the lying friction. As to the sensual remains of his emotions, clay sediment upon a riverbed and river sides were languid in comparison.

But Billy immediately clasped his hands, restoring the state of things together.

He wanted to get things done. That was all.

Billy soldiered toward a gully, climbing it and using the branches of nearby trees as support. He climbed and climbed and found himself at the top of a large hill.

He would not let this control him.

He looked at the scenery.

He ignored it all for the sake of bringing the mana cores.

He handed it to a tall, muscular man who immediately pointed him to a bench where people like him could sit. It was inside a large fort, and the benches were plenty, consisting of hundreds of hungry, weak, and thirsty people. 

Billy had to man up and learn how to withstand the pressure, as the battle raged outside.

Goblins squealed, as men struck them thrice simultaneously.

Fallen body parts accumulated, as winds of magic destroyed hundreds upon hundreds of accumulating mana intended to form the culmination and emergence of magical spells.

Meanwhile, Billy remained strong, his heart never deserting the fight.

Hundreds of voices emerged during the battle.

"Keep your hands tied! Don't let the battle sway you! Soldier on fellows!"

"No more battle-hardened folk! You shall all fall upon my blade!"

"Death to the sinners who claw their sway to the pinnacle of heaven! Let their names be blasted toward the dirt!"

Despite the seemingly trivial nature of the minor battle, the combatants took it seriously because their life was on the line.

Zooming in further into Billy, even if he was a young man, he wanted to do something, but patience was a fighting game.

He looked at his skills.

[Thunderous Roar: Releases a deafening roar that stuns and disorients enemies within a certain radius.]

[Searing Strike: Empowers the character's next melee attack with intense flames, causing additional fire damage.]

[Blade Storm: Unleashes a flurry of rapid sword strikes, hitting multiple enemies in close proximity.]

The one he gave away to Notch was [Borehole Blast].

[Borehole Blast: Place and detonate explosive charges to extract valuable minerals quickly and efficiently.]

He intended to use these skills, but he felt that arrogantly heading into the room of the leaders would result in his death.

Some leaders preferred loyalty to competence to prevent coups, so there was a chance that they might see him as a possible attacker.

So he had to play it humbly because humans relied on limited information. He had to expose himself gradually so that people were not alarmed by his presence.

So that was the game he was going to play.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Notch stood, staring around the city he was in, worried that he was wasting his own time by being here.

However, the protégés were there for him.

Notch was probably okay.

But he did have a lot of things to say.

If Notch knew how to communicate his emotions better, he would probably say something like: "Why the hell does this world even exist man? Why are we doing this? This is so stupid! No one's addressing the fact that everything we're doing is stupid! All of this is one big joke! Everything about it! I put myself up, and I'm expected to excel! I'm expected to be someone! I'm even expected to thrive! What the hell am I supposed to do man! I genuinely believed! I genuinely trusted! I genuinely had the good faith to put my heart out there and trust people, but you know what they did! They betrayed! They tossed me over like I was nothing! What am I supposed to do! I am a human being! And no one is going to listen because I am a child! I am a child! I'm unreasonable! I'm the one no one cares about! How can a child struggle, you say! How can I struggle! I went through hell, and people will call me dumb, a loser, and a coward, all because what? I'm a human? I'm a human for reacting like a human being! I tried! I really did! It hurts! It hurts so much! I hate this! I hate it! It hurts!"

In the end, he was going to take it and be quiet, because that was children did—just shut up and tight-lipped.

Children saw the horrors of war, and they were too young to understand it. Their parents and the adults around them were impacted by the challenges and struggles of their society and world, and those pains and experiences fell upon the children.

The children did not know how to express their suffering, except with tantrums, relying on role models to lead the way to better self-awareness and communication.

They were not given the chance to express themselves. They were only given the choice to obey.

Society could only do so much. It tried to take into account the suffering, but they could not tailor to each other.

The only thing they could do was hope.

Notch surrendered himself to the whims of this world.

And the world continued.

Explosions upon explosions of new growth, as civilization bloomed. People learned how to cope, and they evolved and devolved. Regressions and progressions filled history's books. People never stopped counting the days, as humanity eventually learned how to keep track of the hours.

Time became a significant factor in day-to-day lives, alongside many new cultural features that came with new developments in magical creation.

Notch was there throughout it all, and his soul continued down that path of life.

But only one day had passed.

Notch knew that he couldnt't escape into the broader dynamics of this world. He could only watch it from his grounded here-in-the-now viewpoint.

The touch of grass was real even now, and the wind, and the sky. It all fit him perfectly, tending his spirit and tickling his soul.

He stood up, the weight of his body feeling the angle of the terrain below him, as he traversed throughout complex landscapes here and again, there and forever.

He moved like a man, stepping on land that said here, stepping through vegetation that said now, pushing through paths flanked by trees and all sorts of ecological connections that said this.

The connective measures provided by his environment allowed for his feet to engage the land on which life bloomed, separating the wheat from the chaff, linking ideas with measured actions. Time lingered like a ghost, but in its manifestations, the touch of a hand against skin could be compared to its reality.

Time ticked. He cut through it.

Time sundered. He waited for its reprise.

Notch reached out, becoming one with the uniform nature of the environment.

He became a man of action; attaching objects to ropes, jumping atop a magical carpet, the fabric of which rubbed against the textures and surfaces of his flesh through the patterns of his clothes, and moving along stably adjusted paths armed with soldiery bamboo.

He continued down again and again, exploring the landscape.

Not a single time had he become so connected to the tree sparrows that chirped and whirled about in harmonious applause. He danced along with them even with his regular daily path-taking. He found grace in their becoming feathers.

The protégés reached out, touching the palms of the soil, trees swaying endlessly until night became awakened.

Noiseless booms intercepting the wind, as flavorful scents erupted like bees swarming a man-enemy.

Gradual undulations on the surface rippled apart, as human traffic punctuated its features, light parsnips of joy tricking the land to become its true self.

Notch crushed the momentum of the scenery, ripping it from its vivid nature and shredding it against the earth.

He looked around and found a simple beautiful rainforest, and whatever concepts existed in it were mere apparitions mimicking reality.

It wasn't special. What he felt inside about it was just that—emotions.

The environment was a mere "environment," and everything vivid about it lay in untruth.

Notch only had to look at the pain of his past, and he knew just how brutally simple, straightforward, and easy it was to ruin a human being's life.

The environment might have sucked him in and constrained him with beautiful words of experience, but that was all it was—just a lie.

This beauty was a deceiver.

Life was simple, and it was not beautiful.

It merely was, in all its simplicity.

The tree was just that—a tree.

Nothing else here existed.

It was empty space.

Everything that was was, in all its simplicity.

Dog ate.

Dog barked.

Tree was.

Notch was.

Notch.

Notch.

Notch.

He exploded in a myriad of ideas, tender roots launched and grabbed tiny appendages that served as platforms for reception, all the way around until it cycled back to a day one or a platform one.

He was reminded of his childhood, but also of Maverick, the person who was there at day one, when everything changed.

He accepted that.

He knew well that he could not go back.

But in light of everything, he now found a sense of place, despite the more mature worldview he now tenderly raised.

Notch sat down and looked around.

The protégés touched his hand and shook it, bringing him back to reality.

They were sitting down on a bench in the middle of the city.

Notch had gotten so involved inside his own head that he couldn't even detect the protégés' approach.

One of the protégés, the giant muscly male one, Carri, handed a little toy to Notch. "Here, my mother gave this to me when I was three," he said. "Thought you'd like it."

Notch squinted, accepting it on his hand, but he did not pocket it or put it down. "I'm not a kid anymore," he said. I'm 14."

"Oh, my bad. Here I'll get it back." The protégé took it from his hand.

Afterwards, the protégés began talking about schedling a new produce delivery.

Notch watched the rest of the protégés, curious. 

"Anyway, let's get Shadrach again," said one of the protégés, a woman named Apuf. "He's busy getting his hair done, so we were hoping that you'd do the same. The city has a barber shop, so we were hoping to customize your hair as well if you want. You can even change your clothes as well, but notice how the room you have is very clean. Yeah, don't worry about it. We'll keep it nice and clean for you."

Notch was growing accustomed to how long she could talk if not interrupted.

Either way, he only had to look around, and what he saw was a vast world.

Sunny mornings gently fell upon the lily pads, wherein grace was birthed in a dancing manner, grace being put carefully like doves in a mishmash of swords and knives, quietly laden upon the world. The light of pulses fervently bristled at the noise, its rays sundering along like a child afoot stomping the ground, or a man dividing bread together, merging it with food constituents, and trancing it with cutlery. Inferior to morning resplendence, and gilded with a strange perfunctory image of violets and reds, the townhouses, as it were with the aid of noblemen, carefully assorted themselves, and laid their foundations by the geneses of will, which were supplied by a material basis, and which were grounded in a physical earthly authority. And thus was an entity likened to a spiritual nature, and they held that greater than the humans and have predominated; and their cloth standards, which were pitched at morn, had their careful interest in pursuit of the crafting of bountifulness and therethrough had not obligation to appear. But with these bouquets of wool, it was the noblemen that larded themselves, and who, after sending the wool-workers, noted the impression of the material upon which their vanities were contained in a writ of execution to lay, when in former days made instead the wagon-driver the bearer of the writ, and through which demanded that their presence would appear.