Stephan stepped into the chamber, and the floor immediately betrayed him. It tilted and swayed, his stomach lurching as if the ground itself was squirming beneath his feet. The room spun and tilted, his sense of balance screaming that he was falling even as his boots remained firmly planted on the ground.

  A towering humanoid emerged from the nauseating haze before him, its outline wobbling as badly as the room. It held a massive wooden club slung across one shoulder and hefted it as it approached. The club whistled through the air, and Stephan threw himself to the side, but he misjudged it and instead hurled himself straight towards the monster.

  The club smashed into the stone where he had been a heartbeat ago. Stephan swung wildly, his mace smashing the creature’s knee. It howled and dropped the club, retaliating with a meaty fist that sent Stephan sprawling. They scrambled on the floor in a tangle of limbs, the floor roiling beneath them like a stormy sea.

  Stephan flailed with mace and torch, hitting stone, flesh, and air until the vertigo disappeared, and the monster dispersed into freezing fog.

  He sat up, lungs screaming for air, his heart hammering in his chest. Frozen sweat clung to his clothes and skin, sharp and unnatural.

  How do the watchmen handle these?

  He stayed seated until the nausea ebbed away and his breathing calmed. Finally, he rose and started checking every nook and corner of the room. He heard not a single sound and saw no movement. The cavern was empty except for the monster he had slain. As was the next one.

  After checking twice to be sure he hadn’t missed anything, Stephan returned to the starting chamber. Only one path remained to explore - the narrow crack Tod had warned him about.

  He hesitated.

  He’d done enough, and Tod had said the crawl could be dangerous.

  It’s dangerous for the watchmen too. I’m not wasting my time here. I can do this.

  Stephan went down on his knees and elbows and started crawling, torch held before him. The stone scraped against his shoulders, and he occasionally nicked his elbows against the walls.

  The passage closed on him, the ceiling low enough that breathing felt louder than it should have been. Halfway through, he heard it.

  A sound between a mouse’s squeak and a cricket’s chirp.

  The noise was explicitly insectile and made his skin itch. He hurried, pulling himself the final handful of feet and entered a small chamber, barely ten feet across. Jagged stones stuck out of the earth and descended from the ceiling like broken teeth. And at the other end of the chamber stood another Stephan. Torch in one hand, mace in the other.

  Stephan froze, and the other one held the exact same wide stance with outstretched arms. They stared at each other, but neither moved. Stephan raised the torch, his doppelganger moving without delay.

  Stephan blinked. The creature’s mouth turned to mandibles, human eyes fractured into complex bee-like facets.

  When Stephan’s eyes regained focus. The creature was Stephan once more, but it was half a step closer. Not wanting to wait for the monster to eat him, Stephan charged, and the doppelganger charged as well.

  They swung their maces in perfect unison, and the weapons collided mid-swing with a bone-rattling crack. Both stumbled back a step, and Stephan blinked again. The monster shimmered, but out of balance, failed to move closer.

  They locked eyes and forced them wide open to prevent blinking. Thinking quickly, Stephan made a few more testing moves, which the creature mirrored perfectly, including the probing attacks, all of which collided mid-swing. Stephan looked to the side, and the monster did the same, but in the corner of his eye, Stephan caught it transforming once more.

  Their gazes met once again, and they were both Stephan. Carefully, Stephan moved sideways, dragging his feet across the floor forcefully. The doppelganger did the same, but tripped on a rock.

  Stephan lunged. His double tried to mimic the move, but mid-fall, it failed to do so perfectly. Stephan’s mace bashed its head, which turned into that of a giant cricket from nightmares. At the same time, the monster’s mace grazed Stephan’s thigh, ripping flesh. Pain flared, but the blow had thankfully spared the bone.

  Still, Stephan collapsed backward and watched the human-sized bug evaporate into icy mist before his eyes. He lay there, breathing hard, staring at the stone ceiling. Not a hint of warmth had entered Stephan since he had entered the dungeon, and he was no closer to leveling than he was before slaying the monsters.

  His mace, however, flashed with a golden glow. It was faint, something he would’ve missed had he been outside, but in the dark cave, the bit of yellow light was noticeable.

  What was that?

  Stephan focused on the mace, but the light was gone, and the weapon seemed no different than it did a moment ago.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  He hefted it, and it felt… different. Heavier but not, somehow more substantial.

  I wish I had Identify.

  He frowned at the mace, just in case, but got no sudden insight, nor did he see the golden letters describing what he was seeing.

  I’ll ask Lady Clara.

  Stephan healed his leg and many bruises, hissing at the sting, then looked around the cave. He found no more monsters hiding in the cramped space, so he crawled out. Just in case, he did another round of the cavern, but the place was empty, and with the job well done, he went back into the sunlight.

  He squinted up at the sky.

  About half an hour. Felt like I was in there for ages.

  Instead of running, Stephan took his time walking back to Brighthollow. His thoughts were too tangled to rush, and he had to sort through all the questions he wanted to ask. Lacy, the Paladin, how everything repeated itself. Was it a vision? But if it was, how could he gain levels?

  Finally, he reached the palisade. He noted that someone had thrown dirt where Buck’s blood was when he and Tod had left the town. Wails and cries for the departed reached him even before he entered the town proper, and instead of going down the main street like a hero, he kept to the alleys until he reached the temple.

  A crowd was inside, praying, but Lady Clara saw him instantly. With her eyes, she motioned him to move to the side, then spoke.

  “Go back home. Hug your loved ones, and don’t lose Hope. She is our guiding light, and even in loss and despair She is there for us, as long as we reach out and keep faith.”

  The people shuffled out, and Lady Clara followed them to the door, which she promptly closed and barred.

  “Now, Stephan, how was your little trip?”

  “Pointless,” he said plainly. “I didn’t get a level, but something happened with the mace.”

  He handed the weapon to the nodding Priest.

  “Makes sense. Each class progresses by staying true to its role. Paladin is a combat class, so it was possible you would get a level by fighting monsters and threats against humanity, but obviously that’s not the case.” She then focused on the mace, and her eyes flashed gold.

  “Blessed by War. Minor blessing, the mace will hit as if it were twice its actual weight. You may keep it.”

  That was a decent improvement. Stephan knew intuitively that twice the weight meant twice the strength of his blows, but damage dealt in that way increased more drastically.

  “I have strange knowledge I didn’t have before,” he said right away, and the Priest nodded.

  “Skills impart knowledge directly. You would know that if you were thinking straight. But yes, I remember how strange it felt back when I was your age. Can you tell me which skills you have?”

  Stephan shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

  “Do you mind if I divine you?” Unlike when she had checked his level to allow him into the dungeon, Lady Clara asked for permission.

  It felt good to actually have some say in things.

  “Please.” He smiled, waiting for the good news.

  “You are a level six Paladin.” She paused, squinting at him, “And that’s all I can tell. I can’t see your attributes, nor your skills.”

  She folded her arms, and the golden light vanished from her eyes.

  “Which is odd. That means you have a skill that offers limited protection from divination and identification.” She was thinking aloud, rather than explaining something to Stephan. “That’s good, great even. It means you will be safe from fiends and warlocks and such. I have to admit that one of the reasons I wanted you to go to the academy was because you would get proper protection, but anonymity is perhaps an even better shield.”

  Are you quite done yet?

  “You must have more questions.” Apparently she was.

  The first one he wished to ask was about the vision or the future he had experienced. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Stephan frowned in annoyance, but it wasn’t the first time it had happened, so he went to the next most important thing.

  “Yes, Lady Clara, did you get to think about what was wrong with Lacy?”

  “I didn’t find out anything about her condition, but so far I’ve encountered five more people who didn’t know who you are.” She saw the panic on Stephan’s face and hurriedly added, “Nobody close to you. Your friends and family still remember you, as do your aunt, uncle, and cousins. The baker, the miller’s apprentice, old Betty, Clein, and Misher the fisher have forgotten about you completely. As I’ve said, they aren’t vital people in your life, but for some reason, they don’t know who you are. There could be others. I didn’t have time to speak to everyone yet.”

  She looked to the side, uncomfortable with what she was about to say. Stephan was confused by how clearly he could read her emotions as the woman steeled her resolve and looked him in the eye.

  “The stories about Sir Danso the Wise and the previous Paladins have one thing in common. Nobody knows who they were before they had received their class. They had no friends, no family, and mostly kept to themselves, rarely making meaningful friendships. And the few friends they made were life and death matters, the stuff of legends. What I want to say is that maybe the heavens did not send them, as the tales claim.”

  Then she faltered. She couldn’t say it aloud, but Stephan understood.

  “You think their loved ones slowly forgot about them? That’s why they appeared as if they had come from nowhere.”

  Lady Clara nodded.

  “It could be a defensive boon, protection for those who the Paladin cares about. If you think about it, as the ultimate warrior, the Paladin’s weakness isn’t anything about him, but the people he cares about. Their few friends were all nearly as powerful as the Paladins themselves, while everyone else they kept at a distance. Maybe they weren’t loners, and just wanted to protect those they cared about.”

  Stephan stared at the floor, the weight of realization settling into his chest.

  And deep inside, something quiet and cold took note of what he had lost, what price he had paid.

  [Stephan Cobblerson, Paladin level 6

  Class skills: In Living Memory XVI, Blessing of Healing I, Blessing of Arms I, Smite I, Blessing of Protection I, Inspiring Aura I, Blessing of Conviction I

  Attributes: Agility: 15, Charisma: 15, Composure: 16, Dexterity: 15, Endurance: 16, Intelligence: 13, Luck: 15, Perception: 15, Presence: 14, Strength: 15, Toughness: 15, Vitality: 16, Willpower: 16, Wisdom: 15]