“What a fucking shit hole!” said Francisco as he looked around the city in disgust.

  Noobcity, as some gaming asshole had named it, was where everyone started. The official name for the city was something long and old, but Noobcity stuck, and now that’s what everyone called it.

  Francisco had found himself in front of some bored clerk, who waffled on about this and that, but he barely paid attention. She gave him a manual, which he rejected. “Reading ain’t my thing.”

  She looked him up and down and muttered, “I would have never guessed.”

  He took the coin and map he was given and asked one question. The one thing he truly wanted.

  Power.

  Power to change the way people thought about his family name. Power to truly change his father’s past actions and rub his family name clean. He was tired of Rico being a joke—saying for someone with no honor, no spine. Someone who ran away from the first sign of trouble. He had watched his father’s actions again and again, like the whole planet, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  He wished it was the one and only time he had seen it, but no, again and again, news outlets, social media memes, and video reactions of people breaking down what happened followed him no matter where he went.

  Even the buses showed it on the digital display on their sides.

  Francisco could have changed his name. It would have been easy to. He looked more like his mother anyway, but he refused to. It was too easy a thing to do. To hide away from the shame. The saying went, “A son paid for his father’s crimes,” and he was a testament to that more than anyone he knew.

  The stress was too much for his mother. She couldn’t handle it. She—

  He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on things he couldn’t change. That would come later. Right now, he needed to get stronger.

  Feet sloshing in the mud, he came to a stop in front of the answer the clerk gave him.

  Looking up, he saw a battered tavern sign swing gently in the breeze. Axe embedded in a grinning skull with a mouth full of gold, blood squirting out of the top of it, the sign hung above a tavern that was five floors high and just as wide. The sound of band music spilled out from the swinging doors, as humans, orcs, beastkin and a few other races he didn’t know came and went at their leisure.

  A beastkin that looked like a bull elbowed his orc companion and said, “Fresh meat.” The orc threw back his head and laughed as they barged past him and went into the bar.

  Anger lines setting on his face, he made a move toward them, but something tipped him up and he found himself falling. Arms windmilling, he tried to catch his balance, but it was useless, as the muddy ground rushed to meet his face. He braced himself for the fall but stopped inches from it.

  “Whoa there, young fella. You got feet on you like a drunk fawn. What’s the rush?” said a voice from behind him.

  Francisco found himself being pulled backward until he was standing upright again. He turned and saw the face of a weathered man with curls of smoky-gray hair that fell onto his shoulders. Blue eyes, deep and deadly like a winter’s lake, stared into his soul. He stood a few inches taller than Francisco’s six-foot-four and had the bearing of a man who was muscular once but had allowed it to turn soft. The bear paw–like hand that grabbed Francisco moved his weight easily. It was covered in downward arrows that started small at the back of his fingers and grew in size the further they went up his arm.

  “I heard this place was where you went if you wanted to get stronger. I want to get stronger.”

  “The War Room can certainly do that. It’s where everyone goes if they want to become a mercenary, soldier, adventurer, or someone just handy with a sword. But it isn’t the only option in town. There is also the Vipers Nest; that teaches the darker side of things. If you want to venture down the path of assassination, espionage, and the like, then that may be where you need to be. Goldfingers Lane, on the other hand, will teach you all the skills you need to become a master thief or rogue and everything in between.”

  “What if I wanted to be an assassin thief?”

  “It could be done, but following one path is hard enough. Two takes too much time and effort. Add to the fact you’re constantly pushing and growing your Aura and learning how to best use your Forbidden Tree powers, and you’ll be lucky enough to achieve your goal. Whatever that may be.”

  “I have a goal in mind, but strength and power are what I need to achieve it.”

  “Strength and power are broad terms, lad. A mother has strength when she finds enough food for her children to eat when the cupboards are bare. A son has strength when his parents’ minds are failing and he must cast aside his dreams and take over the family business. Strength is all relative to the person in question.”

  “Fuck me, old man! I just want to be stronger than I am today. I want power, fame, sex. I want my name to ring out amongst the worlds because of my great deeds. I want queens to rub my feet and princesses to be queuing up to wash my balls. I want—”

  “You can want a blowjob in a whorehouse, but unless you have the means to fulfill your desires, then all those wants will just remain dreams.”

  “Ah! What do you know anyway, old man?”

  “I know you’re soft as baby shit. You’ve not even advanced to a Knight yet. Right now, you’re strutting like you’ve got the biggest dick in town, but you’re nothing more than a child. When did you arrive? A few days ago?”

  “Try hours.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Fuck me,” said the stranger, slapping himself on the forehead, “I’m surprised one of the noob-killing crews hasn’t got you yet. They love nothing better than seal-killing little defenseless asstwats like you.”

  “Whatever, old man. Like I said, I want to get stronger, and you’re wasting my time. Now, if you excuse me, destiny awaits.”

  Francisco pushed the double doors and was slapped in the face by wood smoke, unwashed bodies, and meat sizzling over open flames. The smell of the food tickled his stomach, reminding him how hungry he was, but he pushed it down and focused on where he was. People talked in twos or threes or large groups over glasses, tankards, and in a few cases horns that emitted curls of smoke.

  A folk band played somewhere in the back.

  He maneuvered his head this way and that, but he didn’t see anyone who would answer the questions that he had, so he headed to the bar. He pushed for a space against the wall, and although he got a few glares, no one made any comment. Waiting his turn, he ordered a beer and a plate of the house special.

  Sipping his drink, he eavesdropped on the conversations around him.

  “Since the Archduke from the West died, I’ve not been able to get any work.”

  “You know why that is, don’t you?”

  “The fucking influx of people fleeing from the Green Emerald domain.”

  “I would hardly call it a domain, more like a shitty town you pass through on your way to somewhere else.”

  “Either way, because the assassins took the contract out on Chan’s life, now the people who called that place home and were under his protection are fleeing to anywhere they can. Anywhere with big walls and lots of swords to protect them.”

  “What’s the big deal? When isn’t there some domain war or some low-level Archduke being dethroned? You haven’t seen true destruction until you see one of the Kings or Queens lose their temper. Great swaths of land bigger than any country back on Earth destroyed, because either they’re in a bad mood or some little shit from that domain has offended them. No, you should count your blessing only an Archduke was killed, and this wasn’t a war between one of the King or Queens or, heaven forbid, one of the Emperors.”

  A shudder swept through the bar as everyone looked off into space.

  “If it wasn’t for the Baldwin Estate, none of this would have happened,” said the original speaker, causing feet to shuffle and eyes to avoid each other. “Those assholes are trying to claim whatever little domain they can get. First, they brought all the real estate they could in Noobcity, kicking out the original tenants and placing their friends in there instead. Now, they’re attacking the weakest domains outside the city, domains no one cares about, and are claiming them as their own. No one wants—”

  “Ah, shut the hell up, will ya!”

  “No one wants to listen, because most of the fuckers in here are getting coin off them. Coin to do their dirty deeds. Kicking poor families out of their homes and businesses, just so the Baldwins can buy them up at a lower rate. You all should be ashamed of yourselves! I remember when it meant something being a part of this, but mark my words, those posh fuckers are going to lead us all to ruin. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a paying job—”

  “That’s because no fucker wants to hire ya!” shouted someone in the crowd.

  “Don’t blame us because you’re shit at what you do.”

  “I’ve never known someone worse at their job than old Pisspot Bill.”

  “Fuck the lot of ya. Just because I’m not willing to sell my soul for coin like some street worker ready to lift her skirt at the first flash of gold—”

  “When was the last time you saw anything golden that wasn’t your own piss running down your leg?”

  Francisco snorted with a mouthful of food, spraying rice and meat over the counter.

  “You find that funny?” someone asked, poking him in his back.

  He let out a sigh and looked longingly at the plate before him. Meat stew on top of a bed of rice. He couldn’t remember the last time he had meat so tender. It fell off the bone as soon as he placed it in his mouth. He didn’t ask what meat it was exactly because beggars couldn’t be choosers, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. Yet, by the constant pokes he was getting in his back, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get to enjoy it.

  He let out a labored sigh and turned around slowly.

  Alcoholic breath laden with tobacco singed the hairs of his nostrils. He leaned back and took in the mess before him.

  A greasy, tangled mess of black hair covered a face that allowed two cat-like, luminous eyes to stare at him. At first, Francisco thought the person in front of him wasn’t human, but the closer he looked, the more he saw the person was indeed human with pale skin and gaunt features. The only thing off was the look of his eyes.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “Leave him alone, Pisspot. He’s only just passed through the portal.”

  “I don’t care! If he has the balls to laugh at his betters, then he has the balls to take the beating that comes with it,” said Pisspot Bill.

  “Look, I meant no offense—”

  “Damn right you meant no offense. Now a real warrior is standing before you, you’re pissing your pants.”

  “If I’m not mistaken, friend, by what I’ve heard, it seems you’re the one more likely to do that.”

  A roar of laughter tore through the bar as hands slapped whatever objects they could find and feet stomped on the floor. Pisspot Bill’s face grew redder by the second as his eyes darted around the room.

  “He’s only just arrived, but Flesh Meat has you pegged!”

  “It seems even people from Earth know of Pisspot Bill and his leaky leg.”

  More laughter followed, causing Bill’s face to only get redder. Francisco knew what was coming even before Bill cocked his arm back. He launched the contents of the beer mug in his hand at Bill’s face, causing the man to close his eyes and stagger back. It was the tiniest moment of hesitation Francisco needed as he slammed the glass mug on Bill’s head and ducked under a wild swing, embedding his fist into Bill’s gut.

  A humph escaped Bill’s lips as he stepped back, then caught himself, but Francisco wasn’t finished.

  He followed up with a left and a right that caught Bill in the jaw and snapped his head back. But still he didn’t fall. Francisco shook out his hands. Bill’s head was harder than concrete.

  Francisco grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and head-butted him, and that was his mistake. Stars appeared in his vision, and his legs nearly gave out on him, forcing him to catch himself on the bar. He shook his head, and his vision cleared at the sight of Bill smiling at him.

  Francisco threw another punch, but Bill caught it. He tried to pull his arm back, but Bill was one of the strongest humans he had ever met. The more he tried to free his fist from Bill’s hand, the more the weight of hopelessness settled in the pit of his stomach.

  Bill’s smile grew until blackened teeth like cathedral doors filled his vision.

  Francisco tried to hit him on the side of the neck with his free hand, but it, too, was caught. With strength that made him cut off a cry, Bill forced Francisco into a game of mercy, bending his wrist back and causing him to come up on his tiptoes to alleviate the pain.

  It didn’t work as Bill’s smile only grew wider.

  The pain and pressure were too much. It caused his legs to buckle, making him take a knee.

  “If you were anything other than flesh meat, I would cleave your skull in two. But seeing as you’re new around here, I’ll give you some friendly advice. If you see me walking down the street, walk the other way like the beaten dog you are!”

  Francisco was about to give a witty retort, but he didn’t have the chance to, as Bill mule kicked him in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying through the doors of the bar.

  Francisco bounced once, twice, as ribs broke and breath left his lungs, and he came to a rolling stop in the mud.

  His vision blurry, he tried to get up, but pain stabbed him in the chest.

  A face he vaguely remembered loomed above him. “You got some balls on you, I’ll give you that, son. But you’re lucky to be alive after fighting a Baron. If Bill wasn’t so drunk, or you weren’t built like a brick shithouse, then you would be dead right now. You should thank your lucky stars and me.”

  “Wh—wh—why?” he coughed around a mouth of blood.

  “Because I’m going to give you what you want: a way to become stronger.”

  “Sounds like you’re trying to con me, or fu…” said Francisco as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  “Sorry, lad, but you ain’t my type.”

  https://mybook.to/DestroyerofGodsBook1