Melissa stepped out of perfect gloom. “There’s no way you should have been able to spot me, Eric.”

  Eric grinned, gazing up and down at the strikingly beautiful redhead glaring at him with her pretty grey eyes through her open-faced mithril helm, her entire body covered in flexible looking plates that were an odd hybrid of lamellar armor and scale male. “You think these eyes could ever overlook those curves? Seriously, Melly?”

  Melissa pouted, cheeks flushing as she stole a glance Eliot’s way. “Eliot?”

  Eliot stiffened, before dipping his head. “I’ll go let your dad and Zack know we’re good to go.” He then hurried ahead and turned around the corner.

  Melissa sighed, gazing at Eric for long moments before biting her lip. “Hi.”

  Eric snorted. “Hi yourself, beautiful. How’s life been treating you? Sure as fuck, I don’t know. You kinda blocked me on everything, once you left for Uni.”

  The half-dwarf girl winced. “Yeah, I… fuck. That really wasn’t very mature of me, was it? You didn’t do anything wrong. You were a very sweet friend.” She flushed under his regard. “Okay. WWAy more than just a friend. Point is… yeah. I could have handled that better?”

  Eric chuckled softly. “It’s okay, Melly. Trust me. No one’s better at getting lost in their own heads and fucking up relationships than me… and I have perks that should make me so much better at this! But somehow I’m not. Because as much as cool new forces and fields of reality allows the super magical and awesome System to buff up our bodies to shockingly inhuman degrees… I think it’s mostly just faking it, when it comes to our squishy Terran brains.”

  Melissa smirked at that. “Yeah. Willpower just let’s you feel awake and full of pep, like you’ve had your creatine shake and six ounces of steak before every workout… and you feel that focus with every step. And when you’re hurting… it’s like every moment of pain is the first and only moment. More a shock than torment. It never feels like you’re being ground to dust that brings you to tears over minutes, hours, or days. But beyond that, I’m just as much a wishy-washy and indecisive girl whose lazy and want to sleep in as I’ve ever been. It’s just a little bit easier to get out of bed. Like I got 8 hours of sleep and I’m listening to my favorite techno track. Only difference.”

  Eric nodded. “And the saving throw boosts are all behind-the-scenes, so to speak. So auras trying to suppress us, mental commands, and Psionic attacks just don’t hit us as hard. But it’s not like our minds are stronger, just that those mental attacks are so much weaker. And yeah, I still feel just like I always do. Even with a boosted Scholarship, it just made my memories a bit clearer. A hell of a lot clearer, actually. Okay, that’s one big difference. And with the right stats increased… my thoughts are, let’s just say… quicker.” He flashed a self-effacing smile. “But I’m still the same flawed me that I always was before.”

  “Except you look so damned good that I can’t believe I actually let you go,” Melissa whispered, before her cheeks blazed. “Fuck. That was not what I was going to say! See? System Willpower stat is a complete joke!”

  Eric laughed, eyes twinkling. “It’s cool. I managed to earn the patronage of someone pretty high up in the food chain. She’s kinda letting me power through natural evolutions we’re calling cultivation, even though I really should be learning how to properly cultivate. But at least through White-tier… yeah. It’s more like I’m cultivating my genes, polishing up all those little guys and getting rid of the more fucked up mutations, I guess? Just as long as I survive whatever perilous fight could end my genetic heritage forever. So… yeah. High stakes, and all that. Probably be a hell of a lot easier just cultivating on a comfortable mat and cycling Fire Qi under the midday sun, but you take what you can get, you know?”

  Melissa stared at him. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Eric laughed “I’m saying it’s all natural, baby! If we got married, our kids would have the same perfect cheekbones, 20/10 vision, and clear skin as me, even if they never classed up and leveled-up at all.”

  This earned a snort. “So, you’re saying they’ll be just as cute as you, you obnoxiously beautiful boy.” She tousled his head with armored fingertips so form-fitting it was like as second skin. “Seriously, Eric, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You breaking my heart?”

  “Stop it. I know for a fact you were partying quite happily, long after I left. It was in all the tabloids.”

  She gave him a pointed look. He flushed.

  “Yeah… those parties were kind of arranged? But okay, fair.”

  She nodded. “We were both growing into ourselves. Teenagers exploring life. And maybe you were a bit…”

  “A year and a half isn’t that big a gap, Melissa. I was a big boy and you were a big girl. We both knew what we were doing, and we had a good time. And if I maybe fell for you a little bit harder than I should have… that was on me.”

  She flushed, looking embarrassed. “I still feel like I vamped you.”

  Eric snorted. “I just got done rocking a thousand year old succubus, last Friday. Trust me, no one’s vamping me.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened. “No! You didn’t actually sleep with… you did. You actually slept with Lady Thorn! Queen of Midnight! Are you an idiot? She’s Silver! She could drain you—” Her cheeks flushed before his smile. “Never mind. Anyway, could we um… talk?”

  “Sure, Melly. You know I always have time for you.”

  This earned a snort. “Quit looking at me with those bedroom eyes, Eric. This is important.”

  Eric chuckled softly. “Sorry, you’re right. What’s up?”

  Her lips pinched with concern, solemn eyes meeting his own. “Eric, it’s my dad. I think, I’m afraid that he’s being a bit of an idiot, just walking right into Song’s trap.”

  She took a shuddering breath, looking at him. Really looking at him.

  Eric winced, wondering what she saw.

  “Could you maybe… keep an eye out for him?”

  Eric blinked at this. “Wait, you want goofball me to keep your badass Deep Bronze centuries-old Contender of a father safe?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Look. I know I’m supposed to keep it a secret, dad insisted. But I can sense things, sometimes. I’m actually...even though no one else suspects…”

  “You’re a Contender. I know.”

  Melissa froze, gazing at him with a look close to horror. “No. No! Father made it clear that no one should be able to tell!”

  Eric shrugged. “You glow to my eyes, just like the others. You might never have explored any mysterious pocket realm and claimed its potency… you might not have wrestled with fate to brand any territories with the weight of your spirit… but it’s there. Clear as day. To me, at least.”

  “Fuck.” She shook her head. “I thought I hid it so well?”

  “So, what’s your Contender’s intuition telling you?”

  She snorted. “That you’re holding back, big time. And that my father probably won’t survive the idiocy he’s planning and… maybe this sounds crazy, but maybe you could… save him?”

  Her cheeks flushed at his frank look.

  “I know it sounds stupid, but if you see that he needs help and save him…” she swallowed. “You’ll have my gratitude for life.” Solemn eyes locked with his own. “And more, Eric. I know I didn’t exactly… but. Yeah. I cut you off so abruptly because I was ashamed that I was falling for you way too hard. If you were to…” she bit her lip. “I would never hide how I really felt again. And that’s a promise.”

  Eric gazed at her with a gentle smile. “Of course I’ll do my best to keep your father in one piece… not that I think he needs any help from an over-specialized excuse for a slinger. But if I can launch my tungsten-osmium ball of dwarven-enhanced death at the right place and time, I will.”

  He gently clasped her armored hand. “And I will ask for absolutely nothing in return. Sure as heck, I won’t be an idiot and raise any more black flags by falling in love. Not when that always ends way too painfully. At least for me.”

  He ignored the stricken look in her eyes, coming to grips with his own quiet shame. “Yeah, I think I’m best off having a guilt-free good time with an older woman who knows what she’s doing and has no chance of getting hurt in crazy circumstances… so you owe me nothing. And I’ll still do my best.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Melissa’s eyes welled up in sudden tears as she fell into his arms, a 200+ Strength Elite-tier Primal Berserker sobbing uncontrollably. Way too much for any fragile 23 Strength mortal to handle.

  Eric sighed, knowing that it was hard to always keep perfect control when feeling overwhelmed.

  “Thank you, Eric. I just… my heart feels so much lighter! That awful sense of doom I felt… it’s gone, now. Completely gone!”

  Eric winced. “No pressure. Ha ha. But Melissa? This is serious.”

  His warm gaze grew hard and cold as the northern wind. “You know the peril that all Contender’s face, right?”

  Melissa blanched, eyes widening as she quickly let go of him and stepped back. “Shit, I forgot! I should have… Eric, are you alright? I squeezed you way too hard!”

  Eric waved away the concern. “Luigi’s armor is top notch. Anyway, you do know the risk we face, the real reason why your father wants you to keep your status secret?

  Melissa stiffened, features growing pale. “There can only be one.”

  “Hardly,” he snorted. “But… yeah. Flashes of spiritual lightning knocking would-be attacking assholes back, and you’re grabbing anywhere between 1% and 5% of your opponent’s key attributes, even if you aren’t cutting their head off with a katana. Which can be a huge fucking boon, especially if you have any sort of title magnifying the attributes you gain from all sources by 5% or 10% or whatever.”

  Melissa dipped her head. “I know. Father explained it. Even the 3% gain his bloodline allows is shockingly rare. 2% is considered strong, and 4% is scary elite and they’ll never admit it, lest everyone who is anyone come after them, so afraid that they’re growing way too strong, picking people off behind the scenes.”

  Eric nodded. “Exactly. So… yeah. If Song, who is not a Contender… or is he? Shit, I’m not entirely sure, now. I was pretty fucked up and in agony when last we crossed paths so… don’t worry, I’m better now. Point is, if your dad’s about to fall to our enemies, I’ll do my best to help. But Melissa, you gotta understand... if I’m the one your father has in his sights…”

  Melissa paled, before her cheeks flushed. “Don’t even think that, Eric! How could you? You’re coming to our aid! You’re a hero! You, Eliot, Zachary… you’re all heroes! He’d never do such a thing!”

  Eric held her gaze, features unflinching. “It’s easy for you to say that, safely in here, with a father who loves you and kids about our age also in his service. But for those of us surviving all the fucking treachery and intrigue out there? And I’m basically some random idiot grab-bag chock full of attributes and potency that he has no real emotional ties to... a low hanging fruit on the tree of ascension? Yeah. I’d be a fool not to be looking for daggers in the dark.”

  Melissa held his gaze for long seconds, before sighing and lowering her head.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “I have absolutely no idea what it’s like out there, outside of my family’s protective warmth. No idea what you had to go through. So maybe I’m being unfair. But… yeah. Please don’t kill my dad?”

  “I won’t, Melissa. Scout’s honor… just so long as he reciprocates.”

  Melissa’s eyes lit up with wonder, joy and relief, even as Eric’s interface pinged with an unwanted message.

  “Thank you, Eric. Thank you! I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

  The young Primal Berserker stole a quick kiss with her smile, and Eric was grateful as hell that she did not fade into ether and dream as his interface flashed a too cheerful message.

  Oath forged between Contender Eric Silver and Contender Melissa Ironthews acknowledged!

  You swear not to kill her father unless he’s trying to kill you first!

  Should you adhere to this oath and manage to keep Orlin Ironthews alive during your agreed upon campaign of conquest, you will additionally win Melissa Ironthews as a long-term romantic interest that you may pursue at will!

  Should either party break this oath, SEVERE penalties will apply!

  Melissa gave an awed chuckle. “I didn’t expect that.”

  Eric flushed. “Neither did I.”

  She flashed a teasing grin. “Guess I’d better get used to the idea we might soon be an item again.”

  “Melissa, I’m not an ass! I’d never—”

  “Shut up, Eric. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  Eric blinked, at a loss for words when the beautiful young dwarf flounced away, rear flexing with her powerful stride, flashing a final teasing smile as she left.

  “Duude.”

  Eric winced, a too brightly smiling Eliot making himself known.

  “Eliot.”

  “Where the fuck do you get that James Bond flare, Eric?”

  Eric shrugged. “I’m blaming it on the 36 Appearance.”

  Eliot’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? I can’t even put points into that attribute. Not once it reached 14, my biological maximum, it said? Pure bullshit. But I’m a Contender, so I am not complaining to the System and risking pissing it off... but still!”

  “High Strength and Vitality and Finesse gives us a predatory grace that totally synergizes with Appearance and Charisma, so don’t worry. Off the official books, you look way more badass than any low level model wanna-be who put too many points into Appearance. You look ‘leet. A hell of a lot more ‘leet than Zach, not that I’m knocking his dedication.”

  Eric tilted his head. “Besides, aren’t you holding off for—”

  “Well, yeah! But the way Melly was looking at you… and she just looks at me like I’m a silly kid!”

  “That’s because she clearly has great Perception.”

  “Ha ha. Let’s go. We really are running late, and you do not want Orlin reaming you for lacking the discipline of a good dwarven recruit.”

  Eric winced. “Ouch. Yeah, let’s avoid—”

  “There you lazy layabouts are! Took you two fools long enough!” Roared none other than the king himself with a full dozen enormous steam mecha at his back, including Zachary, who Eric could sense grinning cheerfully via Infravision, even in the middle of highly armored battle mech that he was piloting that looked very much like a squat dwarf made of an odd bronze tungsten alloy that was certainly shiny. And now Zack was twerking in the massive hallway far more gracefully than the king’s own honor guard and Eric finally understood the reason for the grand giant-sized stone hallways.

  It was for goofballs like Zach.

  “Check out these moves!” The boy said, alloyed feet scraping against the stone tiles like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Bet you can’t moonwalk in battle mecha!”

  “Knock it off!” King Orlin snapped, looking absolutely badass in a full suit of alloyed armor that covered everything save his face and beard, and Eric honestly wasn’t sure if it was powered or just thick, its gravity only increased by the massive shield he carried, polished to a perfect sheen, with a wicked-looking battle axe on one hip and a thick-barreled carbine he was holding in hand with steam trickling from its barrel, almost identical to the pair secured to the undersides of Zachary’s battle-mech.

  “You boys ready?”

  He grunted at Eliot’s snappy salute, before glaring at Eric, who, after scowling at both Zachary, clearly in his own world as much as not, and Eliot, who didn’t understand the concept of personal space and was standing way to close to a slinger, even if it was a just fine distance for an archer or rifleman, sighed and traded up sling for fastball special.

  “Seriously, boy? We’re about to take on that asshole Song and his power-armor loving goons! And you’re going to take them on in colonial-era men’s wear as a shot-putter?”

  Eric winked, letting the 3 and a half inch crimson ball dance across his fingers. “You know it, Your Grace.”

  “Damn fool. Alright, let’s see what you’re actually worth on the field. And it’s Orlin. You all call me Orlin or sir! Understood?”

  “No problem, sir!”

  The king snorted, before glaring back at the dozen massive sentinels with steam now hissing from multiple joints, and the hundreds of dwarves kitted up with helmets and cuirasses over shirts of shimmering mail with gladius and buckler at their hips and far more compact and human-sized looking rail-line guns in their hands.

  “Everyone fully kitted up? Good! Me and the boys will lead the vanguard!”

  The king glared at the troops behind him.

  “Striker Battalion, you fortify the entrance points! The rest of you will prepare the ambush! Any of Song’s men come, You lure them in! Once their armor’s fucked up by the steam, you all strike as one and put them down! Any questions?”

  The king scowled when a white bearded dwarf with several gold bands around his infantry uniform snapped a salute.

  “What is it, Greyson?”

  “Sir! What if the orcs make an appearance? Word is that there are over twenty thousand gathered to join forces with the gnolls in a final push to take Boston. And they’re using what amounts to ships of the line with over seventy 24-pounder long guns each!”

  The king snorted. “You think Song’s going to let them shell the city he controls? Hoping they’ll manage to hit even one of our shadow ways?” Orlin shook his head. “Not a chance in hell. Those orcs won’t be dismounting those cannon until they hit Boston.”

  He raised a thick, stubby finger. “But, on the off chance Song does plan on using them for precision strikes or the like… full retreat, no question! Let those fools try to enter the shadow ways and use those siege and ship cannons down here! We’ll slaughter them long before they can even drag those multi-ton behemoths into position! Then we’ll have our boys in the back rooms properly rifle those cannon. Then we’ll be giving Song’s own forces or any orcs that stick around once we take New York a night to remember! Any other questions? No? Good. You all have your orders. Move out!”

  Even knowing that he had potentially two serious threats that he’d have to contend with, Eric couldn’t help but trade grins with Eliot, both of them filled with a giddy sense of excitement for the battle to come as Orlin led them down a series of passages Eric automatically loaded onto his DI map, and then a final hallway where precisely laid tiles became corroded blacktop and an abandoned alleyway.

  Then they were topside once more.

  Eric suppressed an excited shiver, no longer holding back as his ES Inventory finally popped back online. In a heartbeat, his rather fine colonial era attire was safely stored away, and he was properly kitted in soul-bound and well padded aketon, mithril mail, and his Breastplate of the Underlord once more.

  It took less than a second, which was all the time needed for the flying scout flying above Orlin’s passageway to spot them, eyes widening as he immediately filled the air with a sonic shriek.

  “Scout 07 to command! I’ve spotted the targets! Lower Manhatten! Near Canal street!”

  patreon.com/Battleforged