The sewer grate screamed against the cobble, a grating (heh) sound to make the ears bleed. Didn't last long, soon I was covered in darkness as the strangely futuristic looking metal disk separated me from the world above.

  One rung at a time, I brought myself closer to the sewer floor.

  And to the smell.

  There were certainly some metaphors I could've used to describe the agony assaulting my innocent nostrils, but all of them would be a waste of time when I should've been focusing on my hunt. Every day I came down here for the better part of two months, and still I couldn't accustom myself to the heresy that manifested as smell.

  I had half a mind to believe that it was witch shenanigans keeping it so unpleasant, it'd be an effective deterrent for anyone with a modicum of self-respect.

  My quest for essence superseded my inhibitions though.

  It might've been the slowest path to power between the two I had, but it was still a path to power. Besides, keeping myself sharp with actual violence was important. Sparring put in a few concerning habits considering we powered through the strikes we received.

  Xae's logic against resetting with every strike landed was that it wasn't representative of real combat. I doubted that was her actual reason, but it was the one she gave, and who was I to speculate on how her brain worked?

  I hopped of the ladder and landed daintily (not really) onto the stone floor, brushing my toga and pulling out my mage light. It wasn't appropriate to wear a toga in the winter, but cold resistance was another thing to train, so why not? Besides, the increased tolerance to the cold was once of the only signs I had that the essence I'd collected was actually doing anything.

  The light flashed awake with the mana it siphoned from my river, making the strange omnipresent ball of light that had no definitive source.

  What kind of enchantments produced such a thing? I didn't feel any mana from the object, but it couldn't be not enchanted. That would be ridiculous. I shrugged and tucked it back into the neckline of my toga, the light still present despite it being concealed in fabric.

  I unsheathed my sword and listened to the sweet sound of steel sliding against cured leather.

  I'd learned a while ago that keeping the blade at my hip wasn't the smartest idea when Alvir had one of his rats ambush me instead of the other way around.

  Since then he'd abandoned any pretense that the things actually had autonomy, since I'd never been able to catch one by surprise after that. I glared at the rat resting on my shoulder, somehow keeping his grip despite being fast asleep.

  The small twitches as he dreamed was kind of endearing.

  I let out a sigh, I couldn't stay mad at Daz.

  I fought off the temptation to give the rodent any scritches. Him being asleep didn't mean that Alvir didn't know where I was, but it did mean he didn't know what I was doing, which was good enough for me.

  I rested my gladius on my other shoulder and started walking, expecting to find my prey soon enough. I'd gotten pretty good at finding the rats, though I didn't know how much of that was the big bad witch directing them to me.

  Not worth pondering.

  A light hum escaped my throat to entertain nobody but myself, and the walls. Though the walls didn't have ears. Probably.

  Could a witch do that? Or even a regular mage that was attached to the concept of stone? Popular belief portrayed mages as either tools of convenience or destruction (sometimes both, like with storm mages), but my experience with combining mend and awake made me inclined to believe that utility was an undervalued aspect to magic.

  Didn't mean I was going to go out of my way in search of utility. Sure I'd learn any words I could get my hands on, but the end goal was strength and nothing else.

  Maybe make some strong friends too, but relying on someone else wasn't the best approach to surviving a cataclysm.

  I heard a chitter in the distance, deep in a way that had become all too familiar, and I shrugged my blade of my shoulder. Hunting Muri-Ursi's had become a nuisance at this point, they varied in tactics, but not by much.

  Either a lack of options or a detriment of being a hive mind.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  I stepped forward with a lazy cadence, waiting to see if this one would charge while it was out of the light, or if it would wait and size me up first.

  The last two had charged, so I expected this one to be different.

  An assumption that was wrong.

  The mass of fur barrelled towards me, larger than than the biggest rat I'd faced by at least a quarter again their size. Not a match for Skiski, but about halfway there.

  Was this Frisk?

  I doubted that, but it would give me some morbid pleasure to see Alvir's efforts wasted.

  I didn't bother activating my spell, stepping back and swiping at the rats face. I made a light cut, which distracted it just enough that I could dance to the side without it changing course and slid my blade against it's hide.

  It let out a hiss of pain, whipping it's tail at me and forcing me to move away. The rat turned with hatred in its eyes, and I couldn't help but feel a bit bored.

  Daz was awake now. Unless he learned how to wrap around and clutch my neck in his sleep.

  The small chitter that entered my ear proved he wasn't that talented though, a shame.

  Then there was a twang from behind me, and I heard a light whisper to move.

  I tilted my head, and something of metal and wood zipped past where it had been.

  My eyes widened, and in the split second of distraction let the rat rent open the leather protecting my stomach, coming out with just a bit of blood. I cursed and reacted, aiming for one of it's eyes so it would back away.

  It didn't, snapping its teeth in an attempt at amputating by thigh.

  I moved so it was just a light graze.

  I ripple of pain shot through me as something buried itself in my shoulder. Fuck. What was I supposed to do about this? Target the rat and I'd be peppered in what felt like arrows, charge the archer and I'd be bowled over by the rat.

  No good options, but certainly a few bad ones.

  I sidestepped a headbutt, and dashed before being struck by a tail thick as a tree, sent flying back and crashing into someone. I blinked. Not what I was going for, but this worked.

  I turned, bringing my blade high—

  A face, a familiar face.

  A boy looked at the steel in my hands with plenty of fear. I faltered.

  Fur slammed into my back, sending my flying off the witch to hit the ground in a roll and spring to my feet. I growled in preparation to counter, only to hear a scream.

  I saw red.

  Putting all I could into my spell, I focused on the muscles of my legs and fired forward, causing a multitude of tears in all of them. The light of my necklace washed over the rat and the boy, and there was so much blood.

  No.

  I let out a roar and tackled the rodent, driving my blade deep into its shoulder and wrestling it off the boy. I wasn't that strong, but the surprise was enough for me to manage. I gripped the handle of my weapon and tore it out, letting a fountain of arterial blood flavour the world.

  The rat screamed, and I screamed back, swinging a gladius made of steel as a strange sensation tickled my fingers. I cut again, this time aimed at the other artery on its neck, and was vindicated by a thump as my opponent lost the strength to move.

  I didn't bother checking if it was still alive, letting all the adrenaline switch focus to the boy. My breath caught when I the paleness of his skin, but the way the two dots of brown tracked me settled my worries.

  For now.

  There was a lot of blood leaving his arm, or what remained of it at least.

  "You're fucking insane," I said, and found it kind of hard with how my tongue was slurring. That wasn't right, mend wasn't saying anything so I should've been fine. "Let ya go and here you come right back to try again. Some friendly advice, third time is not the charm."

  Daz gave a hostile chitter to punctuate the implicit threat, though it sounded about as intimidating as a sword made of gold.

  He scrunched his brows, and the confusion making it to my ears was kinda funny, so I chuckled.

  "Idiot. If I wanted to kill you, then why would I rush to save you?"

  He blinked, and seemed to seriously consider for a moment. I left him to it, moving my limbs like they were led to throw him over my shoulder (poor Daz had to give up his spot).

  What the fuck was going on?

  The boy let out a yelp when my shoulder blade dug into his stomach, which got another chuckle. "Sorry, cunts with their fancy arrows don't get the princess treatment. Speaking of, is there anything on the one in my shoulder? I'm feeling funky."

  He didn't respond, which just got a shrug from me. For all I knew he went unconscious. I jabbed him with my shoulder again. He let out another yelp.

  Just ignoring me then.

  Kids these days, honestly.

  I grabbed the first rung on the first ladder I could find, dragging us both up to the surface at a speed that'd make geriatrics look like professional sprinters. The ones who were physically old at least, the word didn't apply to the fanciful fucks resistant to aging. Like me!

  Man, surviving past the end was going to be a blessing.

  Could finally start acting like I had all the time in the world. Or maybe I'd prep for the heat death of the universe. Strange that planets were a thing here, and that the gods chose this one to inhibit. Or maybe other planets had their own gods who didn't want to deal with the headache of mortals? More than fair honestly, I was already nursing a migraine from the dipshit on my shoulders.

  Did I ever get an answer to the earlier question? Couldn't seem to remember.

  Bleh, not important.

  I pushed up and dragged the sewer grate aside, letting the blessing of natural light touch my skin. Light of the moon that is, it wasn't late, but it was winter. Which meant we were subject to the cruelties of being distant from the equator?

  Did this earth have an equator?

  Well, it was a planet, it kinda had to.

  Or did it?

  Things to think about later.

  I got some strange looks from the people around, but I always did when exiting the sewers. You'd think the idiots would be used to this by now. Though the kid bleeding on my shoulders probably wasn't helping.

  Right. Wounds. Ken.

  There, easy.

  I made my way to the hunters guild...maybe? Direction was hard.

  Who made up the concept of right and left anyway? Up and down was just a matter of perspective. And gravity, but mostly perspective. What would it be like, to have the brain completely detached from any sense of permanence?

  Probably a lot like I felt right now.

  "Maybe to give a speech and kill me slowly?"

  I blinked. "The fuck?"

  "The question," I heard the boy huff, could practically imagine the scowl beside it. "You asked why you'd save me."

  I paused, taking a moment to process that.

  Luckily I was able to bark a laugh before my face slammed into the cobble.