Ember gripped his wooden sword tightly as he narrowed his eyes.

  “What about it?” he said, an edge to his voice.

  The man laughed. “You don’t even know what you have, do you?” He leaned in close. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t let it leave your sight.”

  Ember swallowed hard. He was right. I don’t even know what that thing was capable of. But Chris told me not to keep it with me as long as I was in the guild. Surely they wouldn’t think about stealing it, would they?

  Ember glared at him. “So what?”

  The man's laugh deepened. “You don’t even know the basics!” He looked to his group of lackeys.

  “This guy doesn’t realize that he’s carrying a city-destroying weapon. He’s prancing around like that thing’s a regular sword.”

  The other men burst out laughing with him. Ember couldn’t tell if their humor was genuine or if they were just being sarcastic. If they were, it was getting on his nerves. Mostly because of how drawn out it was.

  “What’s so special about it?” Ember barked back. He knew it was probably better not to egg them on, but they were pissing him off.

  The man’s laughter died down as he returned to face the young man.

  “What you have, bucko,” he tapped Ember on the forehead, “Is a pseudo-legendary. They’re on a completely different level than an epic-tier item. Their ichor is so much more sophisticated, and the quality is out of this world.

  “If you knew what you were doing, no one here could touch you, even if you are a commoner. You could probably wipe out this entire fucking guild hall by yourself. But you don’t. And that makes you dangerous.”

  The lackies behind him had stopped laughing, their faces stone cold. The man waved to the people who were training nearby, some of them stopping to watch the confrontation. Ember could tell by their expressions it was a common opinion among the guild.

  “You’re a rogue. A powder keg waiting to explode. You don’t have any control over that weapon. You think you do, but you don’t. Because you’re a commoner. And commoners are weak. You’d be better off plowing fields or beating bread and making our meals for us.”

  The man circled Ember, who followed him with his gaze.

  He isn’t wrong. I don’t even know what I’m doing with that weapon. I didn’t even want it in the first place.

  “However, you don’t have to stay like that.”

  The man literally rubbed his hands together as he talked, like some money-grubbing tycoon.

  “You could just give it to me, and all your worries would disappear. I mean, look at that nasty scar you got for wielding it. Surely you don’t want more of those. After all, you’re a commoner following around a transitional who’s so far above your level you don’t even comprehend how fucked you are.”

  Ember gritted his teeth. For someone who’s trying to talk me into giving my sword away, he’s being awfully rude. “So what if he’s stronger than me? You think I don’t know that? Besides, even if I wanted to give it to you, I don’t know if I can.” Just the thought of parting with the sword made his heart skip in fear.

  “Ah,” the man said, and with fake enthusiasm, he turned to his men. “He’s addicted. Of course he is, though. Who wouldn’t be, with a pseudo-legendary weapon? The ichor is as close to flawless as one can get out here.”

  He looked back at Ember. “But that’ll get you killed, you know. Ichor addiction is a dangerous game to play.”

  “Oh yeah? And what makes you think you could do a better job?” Frustration flared through Ember. He wasn’t even sure why, but it was enough to make him far bolder than he should have been.

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  The man’s eyes narrowed, “I haven’t properly introduced myself, have I?”

  He reached out, grabbed a sword off the wall, and stepped up to Ember.

  “The name’s Hawk. I’m a little well-known around these parts. I’m a transitional, if you will, much like your beloved Chris and his loud fucking mouth.”

  Ember took a step back. He didn’t like the tone of that. “You see, around here we have certain... customs.”

  He ran his hand along the length of the wooden sword, “And we don’t like it when strangers come around asking about all of our recurring dungeons. They’re a precious resource, you see.”

  The men behind him nodded.

  By this point, the entire guild hall had gone silent. Many were gathering to watch the rookie hazing. Several of the audience members nodded in agreement with Hawk’s statement.

  “People who actually deserve to run those dungeons get first dibs. There are certain procedures you have to go through to even learn about them. But your little friend,” he pointed his sword at Ember, “Is skipping all of those lines.”

  “Are you saying there are monopolies on those dungeons?” The thought hadn’t occurred to Ember, but then again, he was just following Chris around.

  The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Now you’re getting it. The world isn’t all willy-nilly like good old Chris thinks it is. It’s obvious that he’s in over his head, and he’s an outsider. Despite how coolly he acts and how ‘Mr. Know-it-all, he pretends to be, he knows nothing. Now I’m going to give you a choice.” He tapped his sword onto the ground, resting his hands on the hilt.

  “You can give me your sword, walk out of this training hall, and tell your buddy to fuck off. Or I can beat your ass in this training hall in front of all these other guild members, embarrass you, and then you can give me your sword and leave. The choice is yours.”

  Ember met his stare. He was actually surprised at how calm he was. This bully didn’t scare him. Compared to what I experienced when I came to this world, this guy is nothing.

  He gripped his sword and did something he had never done before. He stared Hawk in the eyes and spat on the ground in front of him. “And what if I told you to go fuck yourself?” Ember was angry. He wasn’t sure why, but it was enough to make him act out of character.

  The entire guild hall went silent. Several of the onlookers gasped, and a couple chuckled.

  Hawk wasn’t smiling, though, which wasn’t what Ember expected. Usually, in these sorts of situations, with these sorts of characters in books, the man would start laughing manically or give him a sly grin, a quip. But Hawk wasn’t smiling. He was dead serious, and Ember realized he might have made a mistake.

  The bravado was gone.

  “I gave you your chance, boy,” he said, his voice ice cold. “The theatrics are over. Now prepare yourself.”

  The man pulled his sword up to his waist and pointed the tip at Ember. The time for negotiation and talking was over, if it ever really was a negotiation in the first place.

  Ember swallowed hard and got into his stance. One of the men behind Hawk, a large man with a bushy beard and hard eyes, chuckled.

  “Kid, you don’t know how bad you just fucked up.”

  Before Ember could even make a remark, Hawk was in front of him. It was only thanks to his exceptional reaction speed that Ember managed to dodge the swipe to his head that would have killed him instantly.

  The blade slammed into the wooden wall behind him and went through it like butter.

  Ember swallowed hard as he jumped away. He’s trying to kill me.

  Hawk turned his head, and once again, he just appeared in front of Ember. This time, he didn’t miss, slamming his fist straight into Ember’s ribcage.

  If Ember hadn’t brought his blade to his side just before, he probably would have broken several ribs, if he were lucky.

  The blade snapped cleanly in two, the wood shattering as Ember felt the rush of wind and a brief sense of weightlessness before he slammed into the opposite wall a dozen feet away.

  Pain flared up his back, and air rushed out of his lungs as he collapsed to the floor, saliva dripping out of his mouth. Ember tried desperately to catch his breath, black spots dotting his vision.

  He wheezed as Hawk approached.

  “You have good reactions. I’ll give you that,” the man remarked. “But the strength between a transitional and a commoner is like a chasm. After I beat you black and blue, I’ll take your sword. You’ll never see it again. If you’re lucky and take the beating without resistance, I might even let you keep your ability to walk.”

  Ember looked up and glared at the man through his eyelashes.

  “Fuck you,” Ember spat.

  He didn’t know where the rebellion came from— where the courage to say that sprouted from. But after everything he’d been through so far, this man was the least of his fears. He was just a bully, a coward.

  The man’s eyebrow twitched. “Well, now you just signed your death warrant,” he said coldly.

  He jumped forward, but he never got to deliver the strike, because instead, his face was met with the end of Chris’s shield as he was sent flying all the way across the training room, which was at least fifty yards, and slammed into the other wall so hard that a small crater formed around him.

  “That’s cute,” Chris said, his voice calm and even. “You taking something from me? I’d like to see you try.”