The Copper Flask was already bustling with activity by the time Nick and Ray arrived for an early lunch. The warm scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation. Tabitha moved between tables with a practiced efficiency.
Nick pushed the door open, holding it for Ray as they stepped inside. He spotted their usual corner table and gestured toward it. “Go grab us a seat. I’ll order.”
Ray nodded, her eyes scanned the room as she slipped past a group of adventurers laughing loudly over mugs of ale. Nick approached the bar, where Tabitha was wiping down the counter.
“Well, if it isn’t the talk of the town,” she said without looking up, her voice carrying a playful edge.
Nick raised an eyebrow. “Talk of the town? It’s been, what, fifteen minutes since we left the guild?”
Tabitha smirked as she straightened, tossing the rag over her shoulder. “Cairel’s small for a city. The nice part about living in a small place is that when you don’t know what you’re doing, someone else already does.”
Nick chuckled. “I’ve heard the joke that wives can somehow spread info faster than any military command.”
“I dunno about ‘wives’ specifically,” Tabitha said, tapping the counter for emphasis, “but I’m a firm believer in the power of talking behind people’s backs. Spread information, and it gets whispered behind closed doors. Spread gossip, and everybody gets to know.”
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard someone argue that gossip is just ‘de-centralized information,’ but that’s a surprisingly convincing take. How do you account for bias?”
Tabitha paused. “Bias?” she scoffed. “Who cares? If you’re invested enough to talk about something, you already have one. And if the listener’s invested enough to listen, they’ve got one too. It all evens out in the end.”
“Efficient and biased,” Nick said with mock awe. “Sounds like a perfect system.”
She snorted. “Better than keeping your mouth shut out of fear. If you’ve got something to say, say it. You’d be surprised how far a little courage can go.”
Nick recoiled slightly, her words striking deeper than he expected.
“Fair point,” he said, his tone softer.
‘Courage…’
That was one of the words people used to talk about the things he’d done. After seeing the end result, he generally used less flattering words. He shrugged off the thought with practiced ease, forcing a faint smile as he shook his head.
“Alright, I’ll leave the gossip logistics to you. Can we get the usual? And maybe some extra bread—Ray’s been eating like she’s training for a championship.”
She jotted the order down on a scrap of parchment. “Got it. Shouldn’t take long. Go brood in your usual corner and I’ll have it out in a bit.”
“Brood?” Nick protested.
“There are only two times in your life when it’s funny to be emo, Nick. You’re too old to be a teenager and too young to be having a mid-life crisis.”
“What did I ever do to you?” he complained.
“Don’t keep her waiting too long,” she replied with a wink, moving toward the kitchen.
Nick turned and made his way to the corner table where Ray was already seated, her halberd propped against the wall beside her. She glanced up at his approach. “What took you so long?”
“Tabitha’s suddenly a philosopher,” he replied as he dropped into the seat across from her. “She’s got strong opinions about gossip and called me an emo kid.”
Ray grinned. “Sounds about right.”
He leaned back, folding his arms as they waited. “Food should be out soon.”
It wasn’t long before Tabitha appeared, balancing a tray laden with steaming plates and a basket of fresh bread. She set the dishes down, offering a brief smile before disappearing back into the bustle of the tavern.
Ray dug in immediately, tearing off a piece of bread and loading her plate with roasted veggies and meat. Nick followed at a slower pace, letting the warmth of the meal settle him after the chaos of the morning.
“So,” Ray said between bites, “what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
Nick considered for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. “First, I think I’ll take a nap. The eval was a little more intense than I expected and I feel a little sluggish after blowing all my mana on that last attack.”
She nodded, already halfway through her second plate. “Sounds good. Just don’t sleep the whole day away. We can legally kill stuff now.”
He laughed. “I’ll try not to.”
The meal passed quickly, the comfortable silence between them punctuated only by the occasional clatter of utensils or the hum of conversation around them. When they were finished, Nick pushed back his chair and stretched, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, rising to his feet. “Try not to cause too many problems while I’m gone.
Ray smiled. “No promises.”
He climbed the stairs to his room, the faint creak of the wood beneath his boots a quiet contrast to the lively energy of the tavern below. By the time he closed the door behind him, his fatigue was catching up fast. He kicked off his boots, collapsed onto the bed, and let out a long sigh as his body sank into the mattress.
As his head hit the pillow, the soft hum of the tavern below faded into the background, replaced by the slow, steady rhythm of his own heartbeat. His muscles ached with the satisfying fatigue of a hard-won victory, but his mind refused to be quiet. Flickers of the evaluation played behind his closed eyelids—the clash of steel, the heat of his fireballs, the stunned expressions of the crowd.
He exhaled deeply, willing his thoughts to drift away. Slowly, the weight of sleep claimed him, pulling him under like a warm tide. The sensation of the bed beneath him faded, replaced by an unsettling stillness.
It took a moment for his mind to process that he wasn’t lying down anymore.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in a familiar place. The ground beneath him softened, solidifying into muted grass, its texture too perfect, its color too subdued. Around him, a garden began to unfold, as though it had been waiting for his presence to take shape. Flowers in shades of silver and blue blossomed along winding paths, their faint glow casting a spectral light. Above, the sky rippled with hues of indigo and purple, the sun caught in a liminal state between rising and setting, painting the world in the haunting hues of perpetual twilight.
Nick’s gaze swept the scene, noting the same marble statues along the sides of the path, frozen in poses of anguish, triumph, and quiet contemplation. Following the path to the garden’s center, he found the trickling stone fountain, the only sound in the stifling stillness. Water spilled from its carved edges, looping in mesmerizing patterns that defied reason, their gentle rhythm lulling the senses.
And there, by the fountain, stood Evelyn. Her black hair shimmered in the twilight and her fingers drew the strange patterns looping in the water with deliberate grace. She was a part of the garden—as unchanging and eternal as the twilight itself. Her posture was casual, but her presence demanded attention.
“Back so soon, my chaotic little god?” she asked without looking at him. Her voice was smooth and cool, carrying across the still air as if the garden itself delivered her words. There was no surprise in her tone, only expectation.
Nick took a step forward, the cobblestones firm beneath his boots that he knew he wasn’t wearing when he went to sleep. He could feel the uncanny softness of the ground beneath them as if his feet were bare against the ground. “You dragged me back here, didn’t you.”
A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “Dragged? That’s a rather uncouth way of putting it. Let’s say… summoned. That sounds more magical and dignified, doesn’t it?”
“Semantics,” he muttered, glancing around the garden again. It was beautiful, but it still felt too perfect. The air pressed against him like a held breath. “I suppose you’ll be getting to the reason you ‘summoned’ me here?”
Evelyn turned toward him, her crimson eyes sharp but amused. “Tell me, Nick. What did you find in your little city of mortals? What truths did their chaos reveal to you?”
He folded his arms, his expression thoughtful. “They’re messy, selfish, and loud. But…” He hesitated, glancing down at the unnaturally perfect grass beneath his feet. “They care, in their own ways. It’s not all bad.”
“Not all bad? Coming from you, that almost sounds like praise.”
He looked away, his eyes landing on one of the statues lining the path. It depicted a man holding a shield, his face frozen in defiance. Something about it unsettled him. “They’ve got their problems. But some of them… they’re living their best life, doing what they can to live another day.”
Evelyn giggled softly, the sound low and mocking. “How touching. You almost sound like you admire them.”
Nick turned back to her, scowling. “Admire? No. But I can’t pretend I don’t understand them. They’re trying to survive in the best way they know how. They didn’t get everything right, but they didn’t get everything wrong either. I’ve been there myself, so I have no right to judge them.”
“Have you?” Her voice softened, taking on an almost maternal edge that made his skin crawl. “You’ve observed their struggles, yes. You’ve walked among them, shared their taverns, laughed at their jokes. But what have you done to change anything? What have you done to make it better?”
The question hit harder than Nick expected. His jaw tightened as he glanced away. “I didn’t sign up to save the world. If that’s what you’re fishing for, you’re wasting your time.”
Her smirk faded, replaced by something sharper. “You didn’t sign up for it, yet you linger. You watch their suffering. You wince at their pain. And still, you do nothing.” Her gaze bore into him, unrelenting. “Tell me, Nick. Why is that?”
“Because it’s not my responsibility!” The words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn’t care. He took a step forward, his fists clenched. “I didn’t create this mess. I didn’t enslave people or wage wars. Why should I be the one to fix it?”
Evelyn’s expression didn’t change. If anything, his outburst seemed to amuse her. “And yet, here you are. Watching. Waiting. Wishing things were different.”
Nick’s glare faltered. He hated how easily she saw through him. “Even if I wanted to do something, it wouldn’t matter. One person can’t change the world.”
“Oh, but you’re not just one person, are you?” Her voice was a velvet blade, cutting through his bullshit. “You’re an Overseer. A god. Your very existence tilts the scales. Every choice you make sends ripples through this world, whether you like it or not.”
He shook his head, his voice dropping. “I’m not a hero. I’ve never been good at… fixing things.”
“And yet,” she pressed, stepping closer, “you can’t look away. You see injustice and it burns you, doesn’t it? The slavery. The corruption. The cruelty. It eats at you because you know you could do something. But you don’t. Why is that?” She repeated her earlier question, a clear declaration that she didn’t believe his previous response for a single moment.
Nick hesitated, his mind flashing back to the market stalls, the guards who were looking to exclude people like Ray, and the people who turned a blind eye to the problems in their system. He clenched his fists. “Because every time I’ve tried to make things better, it’s blown up in my face. People get hurt. Or worse. The world doesn’t need another idiot pretending to save it.”
Evelyn’s smile returned, sly and calculating. “So, you let it burn. You tell yourself it’s not your problem, that it’s better to stay on the sidelines. But tell me, Nick—how long do you think you can keep pretending you don’t care?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The words lodged in his throat, heavy with truths he didn’t want to admit.
“And then there’s her,” Evelyn continued, her tone light but laced with venom. “Your precious ‘Ray’. You look at her and see potential, hope, maybe even a chance to make up for your past failures. But what do you really think will happen to her if you keep standing still?”
Nick’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Leave her out of this.”
“Why?” Evelyn tilted her head, feigning ignorance. “She’s part of this world, Nick. A world that chews up and spits out anything it decides is a monster. If you don’t act, she’ll face the same fate as all the others.”
“She’s stronger than that,” he snapped. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”
“Perhaps,” Evelyn conceded. “But strength alone won’t save her. The world doesn’t play fair, Nick. And it won’t wait for you to decide whether you want to protect her.”
Her words settled like a weight on his chest, pressing down on the walls he’d built around that pesky thing called ‘resolve’. He hated her for being right, for cracking the walls and letting a little bit of that glorious light deign to hope for a resurgence.
“There’s also the cathedral…” she said, her tone turning grave.
“The cathedral…? I had a weird feeling about the place, so I didn’t go. Now that we’re leaving the city to fight monsters, I was going to stop by and see if I can nab that ability to respawn for ourselves.”
“You must not,” she replied, her voice like thunder. “You’ve avoided it so far, and that was wise. One day, you’ll have to go there. But that day is not today. When you enter that place, you will no longer be allowed to simply survive like you have been.”
Nick frowned, his skepticism evident. “What’s that supposed to mean? A riddle, as usual?”
“When the time comes, you will have to judge the world, Nick.” Her tone was measured, each word deliberate. “The moment you step inside is the moment you must make your decision, whether to make this world your ally…” Her voice dropped as if carrying a secret. “Or your enemy. Step into the cathedral too soon, and you’ll find yourself on trial before you’re ready to pass judgment.”
“And if I don’t want to pass judgment?”
“Then the world will decide for you,” Evelyn replied, her voice carrying the finality of a closing door. “And I promise, Nick. It won’t be kind.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, thick and oppressive. Nick stared at her, his mind churning with questions he didn’t want to ask.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”
She smiled, a glimmer of something unreadable in her eyes. “Am I? Or am I simply holding up a mirror?”
Before he could respond, the garden began to dissolve around him, the flowers wilting, the statues crumbling into dust. Evelyn’s form faded with the twilight, her voice lingering like a whisper on the wind.
“Think carefully, Nick. This world doesn’t need another hero. But it will demand a judge.”
Project Knightfall 