Jerry’s heart shook, but he insisted.

  "I can try," he said. "Wizards are frail. An ambush, a trick… There have to be ways I can win."

  "There aren’t. You don’t even understand how terrifying Archmages are, Jerry…" Horace’s voice suddenly broke, ending in a long, trembling sigh. "This is all my fault. If I handled this better, we would have never reached this situation. Now, we’re fucked."

  Suddenly, Horace, too, turned around to look at his people, then bowed. They were instantly appalled.

  "Horace!" several people cried out at once. "What are you—"

  "I’m sorry, everyone," he said, forehead touching the ground. "I had a duty to protect you, and I failed. Now, we will all suffer."

  In the span of a few minutes, the tribe’s long-lasting peace had been utterly torn apart. An impossible enemy wanted them dead. They were doomed, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

  Everything happened so fast that most of them hadn’t even realized it yet.

  "You did your best, Horace!" A man and a woman hurried forward to raise him up. The woman said, "If not for you, we would have died many times over already!"

  "Right, right!" The man nodded. "We owe our lives to you, Horace. If anyone should apologize, it’s us! You had to endure such humiliation to protect us. Otherwise, with your strength, you could have easily fought this wizard!"

  Horace chuckled, then shook his head. "In any case, the skeleton was right. This is our fault , not theirs . Maybe, if we’d thought to cover that hole, things could have been different…but now, we’re doomed. Everything is over."

  A heavy silence blanketed the tribe. This time, it wasn’t one of fear, but of deep, morose thought. Every path ended in swift death. Jerry and his undead met each other’s gloomy sight as hushed whispers began to spread.

  Boney walked up to Jerry and patted his shoulder. "Well, it was nice knowing you, Master."

  Jerry stared blankly for a second, then chuckled. "What are you talking about, Boney? I’m not dead yet—I mean, I am, but not dead dead."

  "A matter of time, Master." The skeleton shook his head. "If you pass away, can I have your sack of shoes?"

  Horace glared over.

  "This is no time for jokes," he spat out, and Jerry waved his hand in apology.

  "Sure, but I mean"—he shrugged—"this sucks, but death isn’t such a big deal, is it? That Archmage only mentioned he’d torture me, so you don’t need to worry about it. Let’s just do our best for now and die when the time comes."

  Horace simply glared.

  "Can I speak, everyone?" Laura suddenly walked forward, with her blue dress and long blonde hair contrasting the swamp environment. Everyone stared. "The Wizard Order has great influence, but there are many large, barren areas in the Dead Lands. In fact, they regularly lose people here, as the terrain is so expansive and uninhabited that searching for someone is just not worth the hassle."

  Everyone stared at her. New hope shone in the eyes of the villagers, but Horace asked, "And how do you know that?"

  Jerry looked on with interest. Laura paused for a moment.

  "I used to be part of the Wizard Order," she finally replied, drawing a series of gasps—and a series of nods from the people who’d guessed it. "I ran away…and now, I will devote my life to destroying them."

  "What!?" Jerry exclaimed. "You were in the Wizard Order?"

  He looked around in shock, only to find puzzled faces gazing back.

  "We all knew, Master…"

  "Why did nobody tell me!?"

  "We thought it was obvious…"

  "I thought you were just running away, not trying to fight them," Marcus said, looking at Laura.

  "Of course I was running. Before achieving my Awakening, I can’t even hope to inconvenience them." She sighed. "I didn’t plan to involve anyone, but I am the reason why Herald Maccain assaulted us in Edge Town. He was after me, not you. I’m sorry…"

  "No problem," Jerry replied . "Everyone knew already, apparently, so I guess they’re fine with it. I don’t mind either."

  "Why did you run away, though?" Boney asked. "And how?"

  "I would rather not say right now."

  Marcus tilted his head. “I think we’re past that phase, Laura.”

  “What do you want to know? I was born into the Order, realized they were full of shit, then I ran away when they tried to arrange my marriage.”

  Jerry nodded. “My parents weren’t the best either. Good folks, but not super supportive.”

  “Mine were distant and loved my older brother more than me, so I became a bandit,” Boney said. “Or, at least, Tom did. My only parent is Master—the best necromancer I could ever ask for.”

  “Ohhh, thanks Boney! I love you too! Hey, did we somehow form a team where everyone had bad parents?”

  “Mine were very nice,” Marcus said. “They passed away ten years ago. I still bring flowers to their graves every time I visit Alabaster.”

  "Can’t you people stay focused for more than two sentences?" Horace growled. "My tribe is in grave danger. Speak, girl. You mentioned the barren lands."

  "Yes." She nodded. "You should all leave this place and look for another home. Any place with trees or caves will do; just don’t be visible from the sky."

  "There’s the mountain to the west," a death spirit suggested. "It has a network of caves. We could hide there!"

  "And plenty of forests around it," another added.

  "You should go even further," Laura refuted them, shaking her head. "Travel for at least a few days. Have lookouts and hide if a patrol flies over you."

  The spirits discussed spiritedly with each other, latching onto this ray of hope like drowning sailors on a floating plank. Horace’s crisp voice cut through their whispers.

  "Do you honestly think we can make it?" he asked, staring at Laura. "This is a huge gamble. If they catch us…"

  He did not finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear. Laura bit her lip.

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  "What other choice is there? You certainly have a shot if you’re careful. It’s just…"

  "Just what?"

  "The person after you is an Archmage, one of the Order’s leaders. I’m afraid he won’t just give up… If the Order really wants to capture you, they can find ways. Biomancers who speak with animals, necromancers able to commune with the wild undead, intensive patrols around this area… I won’t lie to you; your only hope is that Jerry enraged the Archmage so much that all resources will be focused on him."

  "He did seem pretty mad." Boney nodded. "His eyes would have certainly popped out, if he had any."

  Horace struck him with a hard glare before replying, "So? Should we still run?"

  "Honestly, you have no choice. Try to escape, and if it works, it works. The only other option would be to actually fight the Archmage, which is beyond hopeless, or capture Jerry and surrender him to the Order, which will likely end up with them killing you anyway."

  "Is he really that strong?" Jerry asked. "I mean, he’s just a wizard, right? If we can somehow sneak up on him, maybe we can take him out in the blink of an eye."

  Horace shook his head. "I told you, that’s impossible. Archmages are practically invincible."

  "That’s not quite true," Laura said, making a few brows raise. "Archmages are much more durable than normal people, sure, and they have defensive measures of their own, but they’re not infallible. Assassinating an Archmage is not unheard of, just extremely rare."

  "It’s unheard of to me. Are you sure?"

  "Very. Their invincibility is propaganda. The reason why fighting him is hopeless is that Archmages are fiercely intelligent and unreasonably experienced. They’re always ten steps ahead. Couple that with their world-ending magical powers, and well…you get the point."

  "Oh," Jerry exclaimed. "Then, we can just attack him, right?"

  "Did you not listen to a word I said?" she snapped at him. "We cannot!"

  "Why not? He can be as intelligent and experienced as he wants, but we can just be unpredictable—chaotic. If we don’t know what we’re going to do, the enemy can’t know either."

  "That’s about the stupidest thing I have ever heard," Marcus replied, frowning, "and I wouldn’t want to risk my life against certain death."

  "Well, what choice do we have?" Horace said, clenching his bow. "These Wizard Order bastards have slaughtered tribes for much less. They stop at nothing to defend their honor. We must slay him, or we are doomed… Fortunately, it looks like that lich is not unkillable. I think I can do it."

  "Is nobody listening to me?" Laura complained.

  "As I hear it, Master is already a goner. That Archmage—Akakakaka or something—will utilize the entire Order to hunt us down," Boney said, sighing deeply. "We might as well give it a shot…"

  Boney didn’t really want this. He would much prefer ditching the tribe and hiding somewhere by themselves, or even taking the airship and running back to the Three Kingdoms, but he knew his Master—he was stubborn to death and righteous to a fault.

  Axehand grunted, raising an axe in the air. The rest of the undead huddled around Jerry, who nodded.

  "Yes,” he said. “That’s what I meant, of course—most of it was just implied. We’re going lich-hunting."

  "You people make no sense…" Laura’s eyes threatened to pop out. "Are you listening to yourselves? We’re talking about an Archmage!"

  "I’m no fighter!" Marcus said.

  "You’re a captain," Jerry retorted, motioning at the photomancer’s vehicle. "Our airship could use you. If not…there’s a flying boat right here. I won’t blame you if you take it and return to Edge Town."

  "But think of all the treasure," Boney whispered, sliding to Marcus’s side. "Mountains of taels, just waiting for you to dive in. Oh, how sad those poor coins must be with no one to hold them… I guess we’ll just take them all."

  "I’m not stupid, Boney," Marcus said, crossing his arms.

  "But this is the treasure of Dorman we’re talking about," Boney’s whisper insisted, speaking the words especially low so no one could overhear. "The greatest treasure in existence. How can you call yourself a treasure hunter if you turn tail now? Imagine all the riches, the fame, the glory…" He grabbed Marcus by the shoulder, gesturing widely with his other hand at an imaginary mountain of coins. "Everything you’ve ever dreamt of is there… Plus, we’re confident enough, or we wouldn’t go."

  "You would, because you’re stupid."

  "We’re strong, too."

  "Hmph."

  Marcus kept his arms crossed as his mustache wiggled in thought. A moment later, he raised his head.

  "Okay," he said. "There’s nobody waiting for me, anyway. Worst case, I die. Best case, I become absolutely filthy rich. I would have asked for a larger cut of the treasure if it wasn’t already ninety-nine percent.”

  "That’s the spirit!" Jerry pumped a fist. "What about you, Laura?"

  Everyone gazed at her, and she shook her head furiously. "You people are insane. I literally just explained why this is impossible."

  "No." Jerry raised a finger. "You explained why it is possible."

  "I can’t believe you. This is ridiculous. We don’t even have a two-feather wizard, and you want to fight an Archmage."

  "We defeated a Herald."

  "That’s not even close."

  "Consider it this way, Laura." Boney slid to her side from Marcus’s. "You clearly have a bone to pick with the Order. What better time to fight them than now? Sure, maybe Master hasn’t Awakened yet, but does it really matter? You’ve seen Axehand. Tell me that’s the power of a single feather."

  She glared at him but said nothing.

  "Your assistance could be the difference between victory or defeat," the skeleton continued. "Where will you find a better opportunity to get back at them? Who else is crazy enough to do what we do?"

  "Don’t pressure people too much, Boney,” Jerry said.

  "Yes, Master."

  Laura crossed her arms. "I’ll consider it," she finally replied. Jerry smiled.

  "That’s more than enough. Now… I suppose we should get things started, right?"

  "Right," Horace spoke up. "Everyone, gather your important things and let’s meet here in ten minutes. There is no time to waste. You don’t need to sleep through the night, so you can march. I’ll join the lich-hunting."

  "Is this really it?" a death spirit said, looking around in disbelief. "We’re just leaving everything? This is our home!"

  "We have to."

  "This is too abrupt!"

  "What if we meet hostile undead?" another asked. "Without you…"

  "Don’t whine. Most of you know how to fight. You can easily handle anything less than a horde, and you have the hardiness of undead, too. This is a risk we must take. I…" Horace frowned deeply. "I have devoted my life to protecting you, and I will continue to do so until the day I die. However, right now, the best way to protect you is by fighting the tribe’s enemy. When everything is over, I will find you again."

  The death spirits looked at each other. Then, under a heavy mood, they dispersed.

  The Akshik tribe had lost its home and would now become wanderers, at least for a short while. Horace shook his head, struggling to digest this sudden change.

  Why did this happen to us? It came out of nowhere… Why is the world so unfair?

  "Well said, Horace," Jerry said, stepping beside him. "How’s Granny?"

  He glanced over, his lips revealing a tiny smile. "She’s injured, but Granny’s not as weak as she seems. I need to ask you for a favor, Jerry; can your undead help me build a shader for her? She needs to move with everyone else, and she doesn’t handle the sun well."

  "Of course!" the necromancer replied, and the Billies immediately approached. He flexed his small biceps. "I will help, too!"

  "Sure." Horace smiled before his eyes flickered to the side. "Oh? Start without me, everyone. Granny has something to tell me."

  "Alright. We’ll make the best shader ever!"