Hunting was true to his word; he stuck around and trained Ranthia back into comfort with her body and her capabilities personally. Ranthia was mostly certain that he wasn’t trying to kill her, but every single exercise persisted and escalated until she was within moments of collapse. It was hard to not hate him at the time.

  …Especially when he asked her to tell him about her classes and every skill she had. Ranthia tried answering vaguely, but…

  “Nope, you’re telling me everything. That’s a direct order, Trainee.” For a brief moment the man wasn’t the affable drinking buddy with the sharp wit. He was a Sentinel once again, with the full weight of his overwhelming levels and unparalleled experience behind him.

  Ranthia swallowed the obscenities that she wanted to scream and forced herself—against every instinct and her favorite Guildmaster’s instruction—to give Hunting the full details of exactly what her classes and skills did, along with the levels of everything… minus [Divine-Touched Identify] (she had some sense). The fact that this extended her break wasn’t even enjoyable!

  “Right, new rules for you. As of this moment you’re barred from using your first class to its full potential whether you’re in battle or sparring. I’ll get back to you on how much of your first class you can use, but the goal is to rely primarily, preferably exclusively, on your [Warrior] class. Your goal is to get your second class to a higher level than your first before the Academy concludes. And if you get [Shards of Reflection] to 256 you can’t class it up until your second class has a comfortable lead.” Hunting commanded.

  “What would be a comfortable lead?” Ranthia asked, putting in the effort to keep her tone respectful. She was still angry, and this was not helping!

  “I’ll leave that up to you, just don’t disappoint me. I’m serious that this might just save your life if you encounter any elves, dwarves, and probably others. If they see you use a Void ability while you’re [Mage] tagged, you do not have the levels to make them second guess their chances. I can take care of myself, but you’re not there yet. So, get your [Warrior] tag showing and keep it showing. Now why are you still lying around? Get your ass up and try to keep up!” The man ordered before he took off, bound straight for the Nostrum Sea.

  Ranthia muttered unkind things to herself as she hurriedly scrambled to her feet—kicking sand everywhere in the process—and took off after him. Swimming in the Nostrum was awful!

  Mock sparring was the final part of the day. The sun had set… at some point—Ranthia’s grasp of time was fairly fuzzy by then. And Hunting was insisting that they had to keep a conversation going, while she failed utterly at dancing around his punches, and he effortlessly defended against her wooden knives. (Seriously, how was it fair that he could flick the sides of her stand-in knives with his fingers and deflect her attacks so easily?!)

  Ranthia had been swapping her old Adventurer stories for Sentinel stories. But she was getting punch drunk after taking so many blows from Hunting. The impacts left her scrambled and, at some point, she had twisted things into trying to one-up the man. Which was plainly idiotic, Sentinels got into way wilder situations than she ever had. But Hunting was loath to bring up his role in the Formorian War or the Shimagu War, which gave her a false sense of hope.

  It didn’t take long for her to get forced to unleash her war goblin story, the wildest tale that she possessed. And then Hunting effortlessly surpassed it with a story about the Sentinels rolling over a crime syndicate that tried to take something from one of their number. He was cagey about the specifics—and spent far too long complaining about being forced to shave his beard—but Ranthia had to admit, it bested her best.

  Then again, she had a fondness for greedy idiocy reaping brutal rewards.

  “So, my first memory I have is of dying.” Ranthia’s mouth flapped before she quite realized what she was doing.

  Ranthia liked Hunting, a lot. Not in a romantic or physical attraction sort of way (gross), but he was a good person. He reminded her in a weird way of… well, it was almost (kind of) like Tatius and Pupius merged into a single being. But she had been so frustrated with Night dragging the story out of her, so she was more than a little surprised when she finally realized that she was blabbing the details out to Hunting.

  It didn’t stop her from finishing the story.

  Though it did take her entirely too long to notice that a strange look had crossed Hunting’s face while he shoved her attacks aside, no matter how she tried to adjust her angles.

  “What is it?” Ranthia finally asked.

  “Sentinel Dawn has been missing for… nearly six years now. But I swear I keep running into changes she made and lives she touched.” Hunting muttered.

  “What do you mean?” Ranthia asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “Kid, did no one ever tell you? The only young [Healer] Ranger we had back then was Sentinel Dawn.”

  Ranthia froze as she grappled with that. She had never known! She had heard of Sentinel Dawn, of course. She’d heard an incessant amount about the woman, to be honest, but she had never known the connection. She had—

  She had utterly failed to even notice Hunting’s punch before it connected with her face.

  The sun had risen sometime before Ranthia finally came to. She ached and the first thing she did was work her jaw and the very sore muscles of her bruised face. She kept her eyes shut but she could feel him hovering over her, so finally she opened her eyes to Hunting’s very smug smirk.

  “Never let your opponent distract you.” He helpfully recommended.

  Ranthia could only respond with groaned obscenities. She wasn’t at her best so she got rather repetitive and was nowhere near as imaginative as she would have preferred. But her filter was thoroughly broken after that sucker punch.

  Fortunately for her, Hunting found the whole thing hilarious.

  “Up and at ‘em. I was going to send you back to your normal schedule today, but I’ve got something I want to test with you after you eat breakfast.” Hunting finally announced once she started to trail off.

  Hunting was sprawled out in the sand in a slothful lounging position, with a pile of smooth rocks next to his head. The game was simple. Hunting had a large arcanite crystal hauled out for it too. Ranthia was to make however many images she felt were necessary and shift however she wanted. Then she’d try to hit Hunting with the (pointy) rock she had cradled in her hands. If she hit him first, she won. He was barred from moving until she started to move, and even then he could only move his arm. If he grabbed a rock and struck whichever body she was in with it before she could loose her stone, he won. The game was repeated until she won—with a promised nonspecific prize!—or she gave up.

  He refused to answer what this was supposed to teach her, but she was down for it. Especially since her true body was securely stowed a safe distance away. That prize was as good as hers!

  A rock bounced off Ranthia’s shoulder painfully. Okay, that was valid, she was only using a single image with [Reflective Motility] timed exactly to her own movements. Hunting had a 50-50 shot.

  A rock smacked into Ranthia’s stomach almost the instant she started to wind back. She’d been using three other images that time! Was this meant to prove she was still sloppy with making [Reflective Motility] realistic?

  Ranthia had been repeatedly bruised, but she had learned a lot since the last gong. She was pretty sure she had found a number of ways to make her duplicates move more realistically. Once she set up again, she was sure the next throw had it.

  It did not. The rock bounced off her chest and left her cursing. A tunic did not provide any protection from that!

  Ranthia was certain that she had tried everything. She’d tried making staggered throws using her images with the real one buried a couple deep. She’d tried synchronized throws with groups so large it felt like her mind wanted to melt under the strain of using so many images. She’d tried so many permutations and adjustments.

  Then she finally tried channeling [Reflections of Reality] and shifting to a different body mid-throw. A rock caught her in the lip before she could even loose the stone.

  Hunting was calling out his apology before she even managed to screech in agonized frustration. The impact had split her lip and already sand was blowing into the wound on the light breeze.

  “Gods, why?! Your stats can’t possibly be so high that nothing works! What was the point of this exercise, just to ruin my pride?!” Ranthia shouted—far louder than she had meant to—after she retreated back to her true body.

  “They are, but you got better with your doubles. And yeah, ruining your pride was exactly the goal. The problem is your images have a major flaw, one that meant a single one of my skills bested you. [Hunter’s Assessment] found you instantly every time.” Hunting replied lazily, still comfortably lounged.

  “And what does that do, instantly analyze my scents or something?” Ranthia sourly demanded.

  “It’s [Identify], just mine can be used on an area instead of an individual. None of your images return anything, only the body you’re in.” He explained in a bored tone.

  Ranthia almost tripped over her own feet. After processing what he said, about the only thing she could do was to curse.

  “Yup, don’t use that on a clever, thinking opponent. Not unless you can completely overwhelm their ability to [Identify] you. Something to bear in mind when you work to improve that class, after you get your [Warrior] class up higher.” Hunting summarized.

  Her beloved survival class really was just fucking cursed, wasn’t it.

  Hunting had left her to practice the graceful motions that [The Flow of Battle] wanted to use while she trained with her knives and excused himself for ‘a bit’. Ranthia was more than a little glad to be alone for a while. She was feeling downright surly. Her pride was in absolute shambles and she was feeling more than a little sorry for herself over learning of yet another major problem with [Shards of Reflection].

  Still, dancing helped. It was fun and she was really growing fond of how [Steps into the Void] subtly helped her footing. Even on the loose sand her footwork’s stability felt the same as dancing on stone. Overall, the rhythm and grace of the dance felt like they came easier than ever to her—which made sense given her Skills were finally attuned to dancing.

  Late in the evening, Ranthia was about to assume something had come up. She was—quite literally—moments away from heading back to the villa when she noticed Hunting’s approach. He was followed by several servants from the villa, each bearing supplies.

  While Ranthia watched—curious and heavily distracted from her practice—he had the servants set their loads down and leave. He soon had a large, healthy campfire going and placed an iron grate over it, balanced in the sands atop a few large rocks. Then a large, tall pot was placed on that as he filled it with water and started cubing potatoes and vegetables into it with a large hunting knife. Once the vegetables were underway, he removed three big, healthy—and obviously freshly killed—rabbits from a sack that had been clipped to his belt and waved Ranthia over.

  Sat together, they skinned and prepared the rabbits and added them to the pot.

  Then mentor and mentee enjoyed a social, friendly evening together while they shared large bowls of fresh rabbit stew. It was definitely going to be another treasured memory for her, she had no doubt.

  The man knew exactly how to bribe her into forgiving him for his role in her emotional turmoil.

  Sentinel Hunting had personally informed each of her instructors to be understanding about her absence. And they were, each understood it. Almost all of them still buried Ranthia under makeup assignments and self-studies that she had no idea how she was going to handle with how heavy of a course load she had been assigned. Maybe if she rushed her meals and outright skipped lunch…

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Then there was the accursed windbag in charge of Fundamentals of Imperial Law. He simply complained about how Sentinels think that they can just change the world with a few words, then told her to bother one of the other trainees if she hoped to learn what she had dared to miss.

  “I still can’t believe you take such high quality notes.” Ranthia repeated, yet again.

  She was sitting with Kaesios during their lunch break, idly eating a chunk of unbuttered bread with one hand while she reviewed his notes. The scrolls were remarkably thorough and meticulous. He somehow had even made notations of what aspects of the lessons he considered most important or practical to focus on.

  “You’re surprised that the only other Mirror classer you know—who has Mirage for his first class—has learned to pay close attention to things. After over forty years of life.” The man deadpanned.

  Yeah, she was a bit jealous. They were friends, yes, but Kaesios consistently showed her up at the Academy. She’d long known that he was the terror of the sparring fields. His custom-made thin great sword and his Mirage copies of his sword’s blade—with some of them made mostly real by his Mirror class—were hard for anyone to counter. Only conventional [Mages] and the three trainees who had Radiance abilities that stripped away illusions stood a chance.

  And now she knew that he was better at the learning side than she was too!

  “You know what I mean! This stuff isn’t the same.” Ranthia retorted.

  “Ha! Yeah, you got me. Truth is I spent a super brief bit of time as a guard. Been kinda interesting to see how the laws changed since then, or at least from how the captain thought they were.” He admitted with a grin.

  Ranthia could only stare at Kaesios in mildly exaggerated horror.

  He cuffed her.

  “Don’t you start, or I’ll take my notes away and you’ll get kicked out and probably arrested. Again.” He scolded.

  She wasn’t even going to ask how he knew about that.

  The remaining trainees had been grouped into units of eight again and told to gather that morning in front of the island docks after breakfast instead of their usual coursework. Ranthia mildly resented the fact that none of the other Adventurers were in her group; they made up a significant enough portion of the remaining trainees that several other groups had at least two. Instead…

  There was the guy whose name started with B, or maybe it was G. Or at least something that sounded like one of those, she assumed. He was an ex-guard (she truly couldn’t escape them) and was equipped with a staff.

  Then there was the guy with a big saber-tooth tiger that insisted on sitting in his lap like a friggin’ housecat every time he sat down. The saber-tooth tiger’s name was Bitey, which was remarkably easy for even Ranthia to remember. Especially after it nearly bit her when she tried to pet it, with permission.

  There were also four [Mages] that had almost immediately bonded into their own little mage-clique: one Earth, one Metal, one Spore, and the other a mix of Radiance and Brilliance. Ranthia had no grasp of any of their names, but the Radiance/Brilliance one was, somehow, the lowest level. She was possibly a touch put out that none of them had invited her to their little [Mage] club.

  Then there was Night’s apprentice, Statia. The wonderous girl with the restriction skill that had everyone constantly talking about her. Ranthia hadn’t ever spoken to her before, yet her name had stuck through sheer repetition. Statia was armed with the typical spear and short sword that most Rangers carried, along with a round wooden shield and—more exotically—a sash filled with throwing knives.

  Like the others, Ranthia was armored and geared up. Except not in her own armor, the instructors had issued her one of the ill-fitting generic sets from the island’s armory, like everyone else.

  Instructor Artillery Mage C—hey, it was memorable—approached their group and had them fall in on him. They boarded a ship that departed once other groups and instructors boarded. The trainees just kind of milled around—the sailing course had greatly helped the sea legs of those that were in it—until the docks were in sight, then their instructors called their groups back together.

  “Okay, on arrival we’ll be doing things a bit different than the others. Trainee Ranthia! You’ll be heading straight for the main temple, get there as quick as you can. You have an appointment with Priest Aeschylus, on order of Sentinel Night, and we’re a bit later getting underway than we meant to be. Hurry once we’re at land.

  “Trainee Statia, you and I will be heading to the government district for your meeting with the E-…” he coughed, “well you already know the details.

  “The rest of you will head to the colosseum. Tell someone that works there that you’re part of group C-8. Don’t forget! Trainee Ranthia, you’ll head there when you’re done too. Trainee Statia and I will join you once we finish.”

  Artillery Mage C’s group of 8. Even Ranthia was confident that she would be able to memorize that.

  While the ship pulled into the docks, Instructor Artillery Mage C, Statia, and Ranthia leapt from the ship and sprinted past the cursing dockhands. They made their way into Ariminum proper and split up immediately, each at the best run they could make. Oddly, it felt like it was the instructor that slowed the two young women down. Then again, he was a pure [Mage].

  Freed of the burden once they split, Ranthia settled into an all out run, using a lane usually reserved for couriers. A good courier could still outrun her, but with just shy of 2000 speed she could outrun many that used the lane. Plus, her ability to dodge around obstacles or other couriers probably outstripped nearly anyone that used the lane too, which helped her save precious moments.

  In short order she arrived at the temple, barely even winded. She paused a moment to fix her hair a bit, muttered to herself that she wished she could get it cut properly, then strolled in.

  “Can I help you?” One of the acolytes asked once she walked past the turn towards the vaults.

  “Yes, I’m here for an appointment with—” Her problems with names struck once again.

  “With…?” The acolyte prompted.

  “…The priest in charge of dealing with god-touched stuff?” She guessed, weakly.

  “…Priest Aeschylus?”

  “Yes, Priest A-… what you said.”

  Her face burned while the exasperated acolyte led her a short distance, then handed her off to a different [Priest] who walked her through the back end of the temple. Fortunately, he seemed disinclined to say anything (or perhaps he had sworn a vow of silence?).

  At last, he knocked on a plain door, then opened it and gestured for her to enter. She bowed quickly to the priest that escorted her.

  “May Xaoc be with you.” Ranthia offered. It seemed to be the proper thing to say.

  The priest did seem slightly pleased as he left, she thought.

  She entered the room to find it small and plain, with a desk in the center and a chair on either side of it. A carved wooden symbol of the five gods hung on the walls but otherwise it was remarkably barren. Granted in a room that size it would have felt cramped rather quickly with more furnishings.

  The [Priest] was younger than she expected, maybe just barely into his 30s, if that. He simply smiled at her and set aside the scroll he had been reading, then pulled a tea set to the center of his desk.

  “Welcome, welcome. You must be Ranthia, the Ranger trainee?”

  “Yes, and you must be Priest… I was supposed to meet?” Ranthia not-quite-smoothly pivoted.

  The priest chuckled and gestured for her to sit across from him at the desk. She sat and he started preparing to pour tea into his own cup.

  “How do you take your tea? I have fresh cream and honey, if you like.”

  “I’ve never actually had it with either before, so I’ll try it however you recommend?”

  The priest nodded and smiled. Soon a delicate little cup filled with liquid was placed in front of her. She lifted it and tried a sip.

  “It… tastes like cream and honey with a hint of leaves?” Ranthia had no idea what to make of it; it was sweet.

  “Haha, yes it does! I must confess I’m not much of a fan of tea, so I prefer my tea to taste as little of it as politely possible.”

  Ranthia had no idea how to take the priest’s behavior. Was he trying to get her guard down? Was he just a silly man? Was he treating her like a kid?

  “I… see…? Um… Should we begin…?” Ranthia felt so out of her depth.

  Somehow the young [Priest] in service to Xaoc was less off-putting to her than this guy!

  “Sure! This job is largely terrible, I’m no Priest Demos, but at least I can finally ask my favorite questions: what’s your bestowal and how strong is it?” The man suddenly seemed more eager, but it was restrained.

  The effect reminded Ranthia of someone that once had a major passion and interest in something, but had it turned into a constant task and had grown to resent it to a certain extent. Where the resentment had grown to the point that he didn’t quite hate his former interest, but it had become a bit too routine.

  “What’s a bestowal?” Ranthia felt even more lost.

  “It’s like a skill granted by the gods! Usually lists at the end of your system information about yourself. After either the general skills or your second class’ skills, depending on your settings.”

  Ranthia blinked and consulted her system information. There was nothing there that she had ever noticed. …Wasn’t there? Her ‘eye’ almost seemed to catch something. But she brushed it off, there couldn’t possibly be anything there. There never had been.

  “Nothing like that, just Xaoc reincarnated me Himself.”

  The priest seemed vaguely disappointed, but he nodded.

  “Tell me everything.” His serious face was on.

  “I don’t remember my past life, beyond a few vague impressions. I had been a [Paladin] in service to Xaoc. I was in some sort of battle or duel or something. I lost. My weapon—whatever it was—was knocked out of my hand and then I was on the ground. Then something went through my back. Next thing I knew I was an 8-year-old girl whose system just unlocked, back in Perinthus.

  “I had just been cured of the plagues that were ravaging there by, well, Sentinel Dawn from back when she was just a Ranger. I had no idea what was going on. When I tried to remember, I found extra memories of meeting with Xaoc. I… don’t know if I can recall His words exactly and I wouldn’t dare repeat them verbatim either way. In essence though, He said I was too orderly, and He wanted to temper me with further chaos as a mortal, so I could become a worthy angel someday.”

  Ranthia had slightly lied with that—she knew the words. Even if they were… difficult to recall in a strange way she couldn’t quite explain. Still she shared what she needed to before she paused to take another sip of honey-cream with leaf juice.

  The look on the Priest’s face had gotten a bit sickly, so she decided to push him a bit.

  “I never had—and never regained—any memories of my… Ranthia’s… life from her first eight years. I have no recall of who or what I was in my prior life, aside from what I’ve said. I don’t know if Xaoc placed me into the body of a girl that had died or if He unwound time and shoved information into my head just as I unlocked the system, which took the place of the childish nonsense I should have known.”

  His face grew visibly pale.

  She was outright messing with him. She had long since discarded the idea that Xaoc had undone time just for her. Beyond the idea of what it would have cost Him—including convincing the other gods to go along with it—it just felt far too out of character. Still, she had briefly nursed the idea as a kid, so she wanted to weaponize it against the [Priest] that seemed to be somehow uncomfortable discussing the divine.

  It was more petty than chaotic, admittedly.

  “I had a head full of what I came to realize was chaotic, random knowledge. I had an innate understanding of the System and knew all of the advanced elements. This let me plan my own build out this time around, since I could never become a [Paladin] in this life. Xaoc wanted me to be something different this time around.

  “Like as an example I knew bandits existed and what they were. But I didn’t recognize what I now know is an incredibly common trap for bandits to set. Similarly, I knew some other… things.

  “Oh, and I also got some real combat skills offered when I was a freshly unlocked eight-year-old, which by everything I know about who I—Ranthia—used to be, had to have come from my prior life.”

  She paused and hesitated. The [Priest] had seemed to gradually recover, unfortunately. So she decided to press a little harder.

  “…I also have definitely gotten higher quality classes than I should from my own merits. Like, my class unlocked skills that I was never expecting this early. I’ve always assumed this was a gift from Xaoc. Well, I got them after I reset my class when I didn’t get what I needed the first time around, but I was still low level.”

  Okay, that backfired. Partway through Ranthia felt incredibly uncomfortable admitting that out loud. It was both self-depreciating and hopelessly arrogant at the same time! She had regrets.

  “Ahem, actually I suspect it might be the case that you earned them through your own achievements. While direct divine intervention is possible, nothing in my experience suggests that it is probable that one of the five would act in such a manner. You seem to have forgotten; you have two lifetimes of achievements to draw upon. I find it far more probable that the system began to react to your prior life once you reset your class. Why, I couldn’t say, but the study of the system stretches back across our entire history, and you are almost certainly still an unusual outlier.” The priest replied.

  Ranthia wanted to dismiss the man’s words, but she forced herself to face them. On the surface it felt downright absurd to be backed by merits from feats she had zero recollection of. But her path in both of her classes had been fairly smooth. She had accomplished more than a few things in her time, but how many feats were truly her own and not just part of a team effort? Fighting a small war band of goblins that partly out leveled her? Then there was how readily her warrior class changed and evolved from simply watching a dancer exactly once.

  “I… I will have to meditate on that.” Ranthia finally confessed after a long silence.

  “Yes, you have given me… quite a bit to meditate on myself, I admit. Gods, to think Xaoc may have undone the progress of time! Oh, I should never have let them force me into this position. I will sleep poorly for weeks, I assure you.”

  The man abruptly looked significantly less like a [Priest] and more like an acolyte far out of his depth. …And godsdamnit, she felt sorry for him in spite of her initial distaste for the man.

  “Why did you, then?” Ranthia asked, before she could stop herself.

  “Enthusiasm and interest can be punished severely in this line of work. Priest Demos passed away after he called down a miracle from his god, using a lifetime of devotion to save humanity from the formorians’ final onslaught.

  “Suddenly no one could do what he did, which included interacting with the god-touched to learn of them and whether or not they might be dangerous. I had… a childish interest in those blessed by gods, out of an enthusiastic dream that I might someday receive one myself. So, the very day I became a full [Priest], I was told I would assume his duties on those matters. And that was that.”

  The priest seemed more than a little bitter and regretful in his vulnerable moment. Then he blinked and smoothed his expression back to solemn formality.

  “But I should not have said all of that to someone sent to me.” He admitted.

  Ranthia chuckled good-naturedly.

  “I’ll keep it to myself. I miiight have been trying to get under your skin a bit, a touch of revenge because I felt so uncomfortable at first.” She admitted.

  They both returned to their (overly) sweet beverages for a moment.

  “I shall have to endeavor to work on making people feel more comfortable then, my apologies. That said, I think I have gotten what I need from you. At least I can record honestly that nothing granted to you by your patron deity can be considered harmful or dangerous to Remus.” He decided.

  “Oh, one last thing. I was told you have an oath related to Xaoc?” The priest added right before Ranthia got her hopes up that she was done.

  “Yes, [Ranthia’s Covenant with Xaoc].” She replied, hoping he wouldn’t ask to hear it.

  “I see. …Wait, did you say with or to?” The man had become pale again.

  “With. Why?” She asked, curious.

  “…I… I see. Thank you… I think… I think that’s everything.” The man was clearly shaken, but Ranthia had no idea why.

  And in that moment, she really didn’t care.

  “So, I’m done?” Ranthia hoped.

  “Y-Yes, I think we are done… I… Thank you for your time, madam Ranger.”

  “Have a nice day!” Ranthia called out, not even noticing the incorrect appellation.

  She was already making her way out of the room, a bit more swiftly than was strictly polite.

  Her rush had less to do with the discomfort she had felt with the priest and far more to do with the fact that the meeting had been faster than she expected. She knew that she probably, strictly speaking, should head straight to the colosseum. But her heart demanded a detour.

  Once again, she ran.

  “Is Hexara in?” Ranthia asked as soon as she was inside the salon.

  The woman behind the desk nodded and pointed at a door.

  Ranthia didn’t give her time to speak the words that she was about to form, nor did she waste precious moments trying to decide whether or not she recognized the woman. Instead, she opened the door and jogged as quickly as she dared in the salon.

  Hexara was with a customer, but Ranthia wholly ignored the other woman’s presence. Instead, she sprinted over and hugged her girlfriend the instant that Hexara—visibly surprised—realized that it was her.

  Ranthia kissed her. For a brief moment, all was right with the world.

  “I can’t stay, I’m not supposed to be here. I just had to see you. I miss you. I love you and I promise I’ll visit as soon as I get a real chance!”

  Ranthia was off again, unable to wait for a response from Hexara. She was too afraid that she would linger if she got a chance to hear her girlfriend’s voice.

  Halfway to the colosseum, Ranthia tripped over her own feet. She very nearly faceplanted into the stones that paved the road, even with her dexterity and Skills.

  Ranthia had finally realized just what she had said. Neither of them had ever used the L-word before! Not like that!

  Ranthia felt like her entire body was blushing and overheating as she awkwardly—and much more slowly—made her way to the colosseum. Oh Xaoc, what had she done!?

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.