A portal shimmered into existence on the outskirts of the forest surrounding the village. Scott, Parker, Ret, Eve, and Nile tumbled out onto the soft loam of the forest floor. The air here was cool and smelled of pine—a far cry from the sulfur and ash of the volcano.

  Parker didn't even wait for the portal to close before he bolted behind a massive oak tree. “Don’t look! Nature is calling, and she’s screaming!”

  Nile ignored him, squinting at the surrounding trees and checking his system messages. His brow furrowed. “Well... this is definitely not where the portal was supposed to drop us.”

  “Must be losing your grip on that portal magic, buddy!” Parker’s voice echoed from behind the tree, followed by a relieved sigh.

  Nile paced in a small circle, muttering to himself as he checked his depleted mana bar. “Maybe my coordinates were drifted by the volcanic interference... or maybe it was just the lack of mana making the spell unstable.” He groaned. “Calculating inter-dimensional rifts on empty is a nightmare.”

  “It’s fine! I recognize these trails,” Scott said, adjusting the weight of the new white horns on his head. He looked around, his enhanced senses picking up familiar scents. “We’re just a bit north of our temporary home.”

  “You mean Huttsville

  Scott stopped in his tracks, looking at Nile with a mix of confusion and amusement. “You named it ? Seriously? Nile, man, I could’ve given you a dozen names better than that. I’m great at naming things!”

  “Nope. Too late,” Nile said, crossing his arms. “We held a democratic session. We came to a vote, and all four of us agreed on Huttsville. It’s official. It’s on the map.”

  “The map?” Scott laughed. “What map?”

  “If you want to challenge the naming rights, you’ll have to bring it before the Board and state your claim in a formal hearing,” Nile explained with a smirk.

  “Wait... so I don’t even get a say?” Scott asked, throwing his hands up. “I’m the one out here fighting Fire Demons in glittery pants, and I don’t even get a vote on the village's name?”

  “You’re part of the Council, Scott. Like it or not,” Nile insisted.

  “Heh... and who said I wanted to be a leader?” Scott asked, cringing. Being a "Hero" was one thing, but the paperwork of a Council sounded like his worst nightmare.

  “Me, naturally,” Nile replied, adjusting an imaginary tie. “I’ll have you know Parker is the one who suggested the name. And for your information, I was on the Student Council in high school. I did pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

  “Fine,” Scott sighed, knowing better than to argue with Nile when he was in "Administrator Mode." “Huttsville it is. So be it.”

  The group began their trek through the dense forest, heading toward the clearing. They hadn't gone far when the brush exploded. A knight in heavy, polished plate armor leaped from behind an ancient oak, his sword leveled directly at Scott’s throat.

  “Halt! Come no further!” Marvin barked, his blade steady. “Friend or foe? State your business!”

  Parker stepped out from behind his tree, still adjusting his trousers and looking annoyed. “Hey, hey! Let's keep it down, man. We don’t want to attract every beast in the sector.”

  “Stay right there!” Marvin commanded, his eyes darting between Scott’s glowing white horns and Ret’s metallic frame.

  “Wait... Marvin? Is that you?” Parker squinted at the visor. “Marvin, put the toothpick down. It’s me, Parker. And this is Scott, Nile, and Michael... from the office. From work!”

  Marvin froze. He lifted his visor, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Oh, jeez... Parker? It had to be you, didn’t it?” He huffed, sheathing his blade with a loud . “It’s clear! Come on out, everyone!”

  The foliage rustled as Galleon, Jean, and Leann emerged from their hiding spots.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Galleon said, holstering his flintlock pistol with a heavy sigh of relief. He looked the group over, his gaze lingering on Scott’s divine crown and glittering pink pants. “I didn’t think we’d find anyone we knew out here in this green hell.”

  “Nice to see some familiar faces,” Nile said cheerfully, trying to smooth out his rumpled clothes. He looked over at Leann and gave a jaunty wave. “And may I add, Leann, you’re looking quite dashing in those leathers.”

  Leann, clad in sleek black leather armor with her chestnut hair caught in the wind, didn't even slow down. She sheathed her dual blades and leaped into the low branches of a nearby tree, moving with a predator’s grace. She paused on a thick limb just long enough to let out a heavy, dramatic sigh.

  “Men. Always thinking with their second head,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “Ugh, how disturbing.”

  Jean, a shorter woman with soft brown hair and dressed in the pristine white robes of a healer, stepped forward to bridge the awkward silence. “It’s good to see you all alive and well,” she said with a warm, tired smile. “Shall we head back to the village and catch up there?”

  “Let’s go,” Scott agreed, stepping toward the center of the group.

  > Marvin snapped his sword back up, the tip hovering inches from Scott’s nose. “Halt! Who are you, twinkle-pants beast? And what have you done with Scott?”

  Parker stepped in, patting the air. “Whoops. Scott, you might want to drop the transformation, buddy. You’re scaring the locals.”

  “Oh! Right. Sorry,” Scott said awkwardly. He closed his eyes and felt the mana recede. His fur receded revealing skin as he shifted out of his [Speed Form]

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Marvin squinted, finally sheathing his sword for the second time. “Oh. It you, Scott. But why do you have horns growing out of your head? It’s... it’s quite disturbing, man.”

  Galleon stepped up, clapping a hand on Scott’s shoulder and giving him a mischievous wink. “I don’t know, Marvin. I rather like the new look,” the First Mate laughed, making a suggestive thrusting motion. “Gives a man more handles to hold onto!”

  “Ha! Same old Galleon,” Scott laughed, shaking his head. “Glad to see you too, you old dog.”

  “Hi, I’m Eve,” she said, extending a hand to the healer. “I apologize for them. we have just left a erupting volcano and are quite tired.”

  “I’m Jean,” the healer replied with a sympathetic nod. “And believe me, you don’t have to apologize. I’ve been on a ship with these yahoos for weeks.”

  Jean shook Eve’s hand, her expression softening. “Jean Archer. It’s a pleasure to meet another woman who actually has her head on straight around here.”

  As they trekked back, the forest air filled with the sounds of catching up. Scott and Parker shared the highlights of their journey, while Galleon filled them in on the crew’s survival.

  “We had a rough go at the start,” Galleon admitted, his voice dropping an octave. “We lost Rachel Blond early on. A pack of raptors caught her in an open field... we couldn't get to her in time. If the Captain hadn't stepped in and broken the ambush, I don’t think any of us would’ve made it to the ship.”

  “Who’s the Captain?” Parker inquired. “Someone from another department?”

  “Not exactly,” Galleon explained. “Captain Petrus. Our old floor supervisor.”

  Parker raised an eyebrow. “Petrus? Big guy, always smiling at our bad and dirty jokes? Actually, yeah... that makes a lot of sense. He was always built like a tank.”

  “He’s more than a tank now,” Galleon said. “Since we found the , he’s been our backbone. That ship requires a massive amount of mana to stay airborne. We spent two weeks tracking a [Glimmer Shroud]

  “Wait,” Scott interrupted. “If you’re the one who found the ship, Galleon, why aren't you in charge?”

  Galleon shrugged, his leather gear creaking. “It’s simple, Scott. In this world, the strongest leads. They’re the protector. They make the calls because they’re the ones who have to back them up with steel. Besides, being First Mate means less paperwork and more time with the crew. I’m happy where I am.”

  “Fair enough,” Scott replied. “If it works, it works.”

  “So,” Parker said, peering through the thinning trees as the smell of woodsmoke grew stronger. “How many people are we talking about? How big is this crew?”

  “Twelve from our department, and thirty more from Packaging,” Galleon explained. “Forty-two in total.”

  “That’s a lot of mouths to feed, bud,” Parker whistled. “That’s not a crew; that’s a small army.”

  “Tell me about it,” Galleon sighed. “We have to hunt and forage constantly just to keep up with the ship’s hunger and the crew’s bellies. It never stops.”

  As they broke into the clearing of Huttsville, the scale of the operation became clear. The loomed over the huts like a sleeping giant, with crew members crawling over the rigging like ants. A bucket brigade stretched into the treeline, hauling water from a nearby pond to keep the repairs moving.

  In the center of the chaos, Avery—standing six-foot-seven with dark hair matted to his forehead—was a whirlwind of motion. He was sprinting between a water tub and a blood-slicked butcher’s table, hacking meat into barrels and tossing skins into a growing pile.

  Scott walked up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks good, Avery. How’s it going, bud?”

  Avery nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around with a cleaver in hand. “Scott! You’re alive! Thank goodness you’re here. We need help, man. Desperately.”

  Scott waited for the explanation, but Avery just turned back to a massive slab of beast-flesh, hacking away with frantic energy.

  “Help with what, exactly?” Scott asked, leaning around the mountain of a man.

  “What? Oh—sorry,” Avery panted, wiping sweat from his eyes with a bloody forearm. “I’m a bit wired. We need more meat for the slaughter. The Shroud is peaking, and the crew is bottoming out on stamina. I can't keep up.”

  Scott looked at the pile of discarded hides and then at Avery’s trembling hands. “Okay, how about I help you in a different way? I’ve picked up some new tricks. I can take those skins and craft high-tier armor for the crew. I can also build beds—enchanted ones—to accelerate regeneration for the tired and injured.”

  Avery stopped. He let out a long, shuddering breath, the weight of the last few weeks finally visible on his face. “That... Scott, that would be fantastic. If you can handle the gear, I can focus on the food. Please, be my guest.”

  A tall man with slicked-back dark hair and a clean-shaven face approached them. He moved with a practiced, heavy grace, the two massive war-hammers strapped to his back glinting in the afternoon sun.

  “Scott. I’m glad to see you made it,” Captain Petrus said, his voice a deep, resonant baritone. “Care to walk with me?”

  “Sure,” Scott answered, falling into step beside his former boss.

  “How are things going for you out here?” Petrus asked, hands clasped behind his back as if he were still walking the warehouse floor.

  “So far, so good, to be honest,” Scott said. He glanced at Petrus out of the corner of his eye. “Is this like those small-talk sessions we used to have in your office? Am I getting a performance review?”

  Petrus let out a rare, short huff of a laugh. “Sort of. But instead of a raise, I’m offering a commission. I’d like you to join us on the ship. From what I’ve heard, you’ve become a formidable Slayer. We could use a man with your particular set of talents in our permanent crew.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Petrus, I really do,” Scott said plainly. “But I have to find my family. That’s my only priority. Well I guess leveling and survivng too.”

  “That’s admirable,” Petrus nodded, his expression serious. “However, I believe we could help you find them much faster from the deck of the . We have the altitude and the speed you lack.”

  “Yeah... no thanks,” Scott said, stopping in his tracks. “I have a path to walk, and it’s definitely not as a crew member on someone else's ship. But look—if you’re in a real bind, you can call on me. I’ll help where I can.”

  Petrus stopped as well, looking at Scott’s white horns and the quiet power radiating from him. “Ah. That’s a shame. Is there any way I can convince you to reconsider?”

  “Nope. But you’re always welcome here in Huttsville,” Scott offered with a shrug. “Consider this a neutral port. You can restock and repair here whenever you need.”

  “Well, at least I tried,” Petrus said, finally relaxing his posture. “Either way, we’re hosting a feast tonight. The crew is restless—they want to have a ‘friendly’ match of sorts to test their new abilities against each other. Care to join us? For old times' sake?”

  Scott smirked. He knew his former coworkers. “That sounds like fun. But what’s the catch?”

  “The catch is a wager,” Petrus said, a competitive glint in his eye. “Each participant puts in one magic item. Whoever stands as the winner of the matches takes the whole lot. A winner-takes-all pool.”

  Scott felt a surge of interest. He had plenty of utility items, but the chance to snag high-tier gear from the hoard was too good to pass up.

  “Alright,” Scott replied with a confident nod. “I can do something like that. Consider me in.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you at sundown,” Petrus said. He turned and marched back toward his crew, his heavy footsteps thudding against the earth.

  Scott watched him go for a moment, the adrenaline of the day finally beginning to come to an end. His ribs still ached from Volgarin’s punch, and his mind felt heavy from the massive mana expansion of the Divine horns.

  He trudged back to his hut, the familiar smell of dried grass and woodsmoke welcoming him. He didn't even bother taking off his boots. He collapsed onto his bed, his eyes closing the moment his head hit the furs. He needed every ounce of strength he could recover—because tonight, he wasn't just fighting demons; he was fighting his old coworkers.