Today's Earth date: November 3, 1991

We left Cuan today via parade.

Which is strange. Back on Earth, parades were for when wars were won, not for going into war. The ease with which people here talk about having a few hundred hungry demons for neighbors… In their minds, the Heroes have already won. So they don't have to worry about anything.

How could no part of them think about the "what ifs?" What if the Heroes fail? What if thousands of demons overrun my planet? What would I do then? What could I do then?

How are they not asking themselves these kinds of questions?

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

Fergus held the druid brick in his hands. The barrier didn't affect him either.

"So… We did all of those gymnastics to find out we could walk right in?"

Wayne nodded.

Fergus laughed. "I like when the universe makes little jokes like this."

"It's funny that we wasted all that time?"

"Be grateful for a pleasant surprise, and I don't see where we wasted anything at all. The Water Temple run was very valuable. Do you suppose dwarven ruins have those access tunnels or is it just the Temples?"

"I agree that it's worth investigating," Wayne answered. "We'll need Vanilli's help to learn how to do that, though. Unless you caught what he did."

Fergus shook his head. "I caught that the bricks work like a sort of combination lock, but that's it. He was too fast for anything else."

"Probably on purpose."

"Probably. I wouldn't want to give my captors the keys to my house either."

That was a fair point.

If Vanilli was willing to help them, their exploration would go more smoothly, but they had also held him by swordpoint and openly discussed whether or not to kill him. Wayne made a note to put much more thought into how to make the demon an ally, or a reasonably friendly trading partner at the very least. A part of him worried they would return to the Water Temple, and Vanilli would choose to stay hidden. Like the demon equivalent of not answering the doorbell even though you're home.

"Cuan University is preserving the specimen we recovered," Fergus added, sharing his own research updates. "If you want a look at it for yourself, it will be there, but it's mostly like we thought: the growth was indeed organically fixed to the rat."

"Why do you say 'mostly?'"

"Nature doesn't often deal in symmetry or precise shapes, like right angles or perfect circles. The appendage, however, looks crafted, or part of it does."

"What are you saying?"

Fergus shrugged and slid his notebook to Wayne to show him the sketch of the odd arm. "At this stage, it's only an observation of something unusual. Perhaps the ratmen have adopted a new ritual or their interest in the occult has evolved in some way? One of the local scholars suggested the possibility of a fleshmancer."

"What's that?"

"Geomancers manipulate earth. Fleshmancers do that but with flesh. Little is known about that school of magic, and there's some debate about whether it's a form of necromancy or a different practice entirely, but I have to admit, the deliberate nature of the mutations gives that credibility."

The sketches and measurements of the bone scythe did indeed look crafted rather than grown, the difference between a tree rising to the sky with light and water and a fence post cut to perfect dimensions. Wayne fell into his thoughts until Fergus spoke again.

"Did you pick your next unlock?" Fergus asked, changing the topic.

"I want your opinion, actually."

Wayne showed Fergus the back of his new page. Two games were scratched out, leaving two games to choose from: Centurion: Defender of Rome and LHX Chopper.

The blurb for the first game read:

Give orders to your legions, race your chariot in the Circus Maxius, sink enemy ships, invade nations and fight gladiator battles in the Coliseum. Awesome graphics and wild adventures!

The second read:

Be the first to fly the experimental, highly classified chopper. Fly desperate missions never before possible at night or in difficult weather. Maneuver your chopper, launch missiles, and bring it home safely.

Those were in addition to the remaining game on the other side, It Came from the Desert. Wayne explained that Centurion looked like a city management or realtime strategy game with a ton of mini-games, and LHX Chopper was likely in the realm of Afterburner II.

As for what It Came from the Desert might have for gameplay, Wayne had no idea.

"Instead of what's most practical, how about what has you the most curious?"

"That feels irresponsible."

"You're the one setting the standards here," Fergus replied. "You'll get more levels to unlock the rest, so don't be so hard on yourself."

Fergus was right. Wayne circled It Came from the Desert. When he checked his system to see what he unlocked he started laughing. Still struggling to collect himself, he read the description out loud:

"Wheelchairs – Move through the hospital corridors at a much faster rate than by foot."

"What does it do?"

"Looks like +1 to agility."

"Useful, but not as fun as the description makes it sound."

Wayne agreed.

"Suppose we should study up on liches now, huh?"

Wayne and Fergus rode Outlawson toward the west gate but stopped. A small town composed of dozens of wagons had appeared outside Cuan's main gate overnight, rows and rows of them with tents in between and a steady stream of people circulating through.

"Check it out?" Wayne asked.

"Of course!"

Wayne steered Outlawson around Cuan to get a better look, the wagon camp seeming more and more like a festival the closer they got.

When he spotted the cages, Wayne knew what this was: monster collectors and monster dealers. Back on Earth, he saw events like these advertised as reptile and amphibian shows, but when he visited one, it was more fleamarket than show. Snakes, lizards, and spiders of all kinds sitting in clear totes and tupperware to be sold.

Here, he saw bears with feathers. Cats the size of panthers with four tails and whisps of fire for manes. A monkey with the skin of a chameleon, changing colors with the speed of a powerpoint clicker. A puddle of viscous black goo that occasionally formed a tentacle-like stalk with teeth at the end. Small jars with quarter-sized balls of glowing light–red, greens, blues, purples–floating around inside.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

And on and on.

"This is sad," Wayne said, dismissing Outlawson.

"How so?" Fergus asked.

"Seems cruel to keep an animal locked up like that all its life."

"But they're monsters."

Wayne shrugged. "The more of this world I see, the more the line between monster and animal seems arbitrary. But putting cruelty aside, it's really stupid to park a bunch of monsters outside of a city like this."

Fergus laughed. "You got me there."

A man with a long curly mustache approached Wayne with a salesman smile. "I've never seen a monster like that. And where did it go?"

"One of a kind."

"How much?"

"Not for sale."

The man tried to follow Wayne and Fergus.

"I mean it. Not for sale."

Raising his arms in surrender, he stepped back and left the scholars alone.

A soft voice Wayne recognized called, "Taken an interest in monster collecting now too?"

Sheeri, the art dealer who connected them with Lord Blackwell in Teagaisg, strolled down the open channel between wagons. She wore a sleeveless powder blue pantsuit made from thin fabric. The material had the texture of crepe paper, as if the entire outfit had been left in the dryer unfolded for far too long–but on purpose.

Her eyes glimmered in the sunlight, and that uncanny valley feeling Wayne had in Teagaisg returned. He had no such reaction to seeing Perris, so her being an elf wasn't the cause as Wayne originally suspected. Looking at her now, he could think of no new theories for why her presence felt… off.

"It is wonderful to see you again!" Fergus said, offering Sheeri a small bow. "We're just browsing."

"If you see something you like, let me know. Even with my fee, I can negotiate a better price for you."

Wayne thanked her and said that was unnecessary. "What brings you to Cuan?" he asked.

"Business. What else?"

"A vacation?"

Sheeri laughed. "I don't do vacations. Life is too short to put off enjoying it." She looked at Wayne and Fergus and offered a half-hearted frown. "Perhaps it is insensitive to talk about the length of a life with humans."

"Regardless, I agree," Fergus said. "Would you like to join us for dinner while you're in town? It's the least we can do to thank you for your help."

"My commission was thanks enough, but I wouldn't mind a nice meal. Where can I find you?"

"The Amethyst estate."

That impressed Sheeri. Wayne assumed that was hard to do. "Have you seen basilisks or basilisk eggs for sale here, by chance?" she asked.

Fergus shook his head, and Wayne said, "Sorry, we only just got here. How hard are those to find?"

"Hard to find at a reasonable price. There's a dealer on the east side of camp that has six young adult basilisks for sale, but he's asking for way too much."

"In my world, basilisk legends say they can kill with a gaze. Is that true here?"

Sheeri nodded. "That's a big part of their allure."

"I don't think I'd want a pet that could kill me with eye contact." Wayne remembered how much of each day he spent slow-blinking at his cat to make sure she knew she was loved.

"Oh, it's not that dangerous. As long as they are behind a certain type of glass, their gaze is harmless. Their eyes are quite beautiful, like a galaxy of stars compressed into a marble."

"Yeah, still a no for me," Wayne said.

"Earth must be so very boring," the elf said. "At any rate, I should return to my work. I am still searching for new pages for you, by the way. I'll send word to the Amethyst estate if I find anything."

"Or if you'd like to have dinner," Fergus added.

"Yes, of course, that as well."

When Sheeri was out of earshot, Wayne again mentioned to Fergus the odd feeling Sheeri gave him.

"I still say that's your Earth brain coming to terms with seeing a beautiful elf in person."

Wayne insisted that wasn't the case. Fergus didn't believe him.

The pair spent another two hours wandering through the camp, looking at exotic beasts and brushing off endless sales pitches from dealers. They had explored roughly half of the total gathering, but that was sufficient for them. They had liches to study.

Laszlo's party had an average level of 11.5 when they fought Julian to retrieve Rebecca. According to their druid source, he was just then descending into lichdom, giving him roughly fifty years of gathering power since. If they were lucky, he wouldn't have access to corpses for necromancy inside the ruins.

A different cycle fought a three hundred fifty year old lich when their average levels were 20. They had a full party of six but no advanced notice that they would encounter a lich. The party triumphed, but their rogue was killed in the battle.

Another cycle had a party fight one hundred twenty year old lich. Their average level was 23. This lich had assembled an army of undead, which seemed to be where most of the challenge came from for that encounter. The sheer volume of enemies was overwhelming, but they beat them back eventually.

The oldest lich in their records was over six hundred years old, and the account of that battle was a rare piece of post-quest lore. The demons were beaten back and the world was saved before that cycle's fighter and cleric pursued the lich. They perished in the effort, and it ultimately took two kingdoms uniting their armies to finish that fight.

"By Hero standards, we're a bit underleveled," Fergus observed. "I'm not sure how we factor our versions of the system, especially yours."

Currently, Wayne's system displayed the following:

Hero: Wayne the Guy

Level: 10

HP: 169

STR: 19

AGI: 20

VIT: 15

LCK: 23

When Laszlo was level 10, the records said his stats were as follows:

Hero: Laszlo the Paladin

Level: 10

HP: 220

STR: 28

AGI: 13

VIT: 16

LCK: 10

Laszlo was significantly ahead on strength, but Wayne was ahead of Laszlo in agility and luck. One more strength buff like Power Ring would put him back in the lead again, by a substantial margin.

The luck attribute's benefit was unknown to him, however. That was a hotly debated topic among scholars because the luck stat had no known measurable expression. When a Hero gained strength, they got stronger. The relationship was simple and easy to observe. When a Hero gained luck? No one agreed. One of Fergus' peers proposed asking the next cycle of Chosen Heroes to participate in an experiment where they played games of chance. If a Hero wanted a coin to land on heads, they would see a deviation in the expected probability. The higher the luck attribute, the larger the deviation.

In theory.

The other problem was that they had no baseline for what "normal" luck looked like for the people of this world. They understood probability yes, but had no reference point for a force that influenced probability. Again, the other attributes could be tested. A Hero could lift X, but a civilian could lift Y. And so on.

"We're also going in aware and prepared," Wayne added. "Everyone will have silver weapons and holy water."

"Our arrival will also be unexpected."

"So we'll have broken system powers, be well-armed for this specific enemy, and have the element of surprise." Wayne frowned. "Sorry, I can't imagine any game I played where a party with our levels could take on a lich."

"Those stories don't seem to exist here, either," Fergus added.

Wayne leaned back to think. If his party was going to fight a lich and survive at their current power, their levels alone didn't seem sufficient. Preparation and surprise would help, but how much? They couldn't quantify those advantages the way they could levels and stats.

What else did Wayne's party have that the Heroes didn't?

Outlawson was unique to them, but no, he might not even fit in the dungeon and didn't fight regardless.

Wayne scrolled through his system menus. He had an idea.

He stood up and walked to Fergus' side of the table, motioning for the old scholar to stand as well. Fergus was suspicious.

"Take my hand," Wayne said.

"Why?"

"I want to see something."

Fergus' eyes narrowed even more.

"Come on. It will be quick."

Reluctantly, Fergus grabbed Wayne's hand.

Rise.

There was so much screaming. Fergus was just as startled as the four student scholars they appeared next to. They had been holding a study group, but now they panicked. One ran for the door. One got stuck between the table and the bench he sat on. One jumped to his feet. The last grabbed the jumping student to use as a shield.

They all screamed. Fergus too.

"Gods, Wayne, you're a bastard!" Fergus yelled. He rubbed his forehead, trying to calm his heart when he processed what had happened.

"Sorry, everyone," Wayne said. "Didn't mean to disturb you. We'll be on our way."

When Wayne reached to guide Fergus out of the room, the old scholar swatted Wayne's hand away. "No more touching. None."

Wayne apologized, struggling to hide his grin, and walked Fergus back to their library table one floor down.

"Why did you do that to me?" Fergus asked.

"I never thought about using that spell with a group. If we can bail on the lich fight whenever we want, I'd feel better about the risks."

"Ah," Fergus said, his outrage gone completely. "And we don't have to dispel the barrier if we can walk through it, so the lich would still be trapped in that case."

"Exactly."

Fergus sighed. "So we have to do that again but with the whole party to be certain?"

"Afraid so."

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