Evandrel barely managed to get his wounded osprey to the palace before it collapsed. It was singed and angry, yet somehow still alive. The opossum dismounted and ran toward Willow.

  “I’m so sorry,” Evandrel said, “By the time I realized Francis had slipped off, it was too late to save him. I tried to dive after him, but the explosion… well…. at least he died how he lived, killing ever—”

  “He’s not dead,” the Death Cleric interrupted, “Believe me, I’d know if my patron deity died, and all of his followers would have gotten alerts too.”

  The opossum looked up at her in confusion. “Well then, where is he?”

  Willow frowned. “I don’t know. Something is stopping me from tracking or messaging him.”

  “So, you’re saying he’s in trouble?” Evandrel gripped the brim of his hat a little bit tighter as he imagined the kind of power it would take to separate a High Priestess from her god.

  The Death Cleric shook her head. She had the feeling that no matter what, Francis would probably find a way to come out on top. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “But—”

  Willow cut Evandrel off. “I’m sure someone is in trouble,” she said with a predatory smile, “But it’s definitely not Francis.”

  ***

  While the three fire demons tried to decide who would get first crack at the dreamer, Uldin the imp tried to avoid breaking down in tears. The other demons had refused to listen to his warnings about the Bad Man, but they also wouldn’t let him leave.

  Whenever he tried to run they would throw hellfire at his feet to trip him up, or tackle him to the ground. They wanted him to see how great they were, how he had been wrong about the creature stalking the dream realm. But they hadn’t seen the things Uldin had. They didn’t know what was coming for them.

  “Did you guys just hear someone running?” asked the biggest fire demon, shooting a glance toward Uldin to make sure he hadn’t tried to escape again.

  “No, but I think I hear music,” replied his slightly smaller brother.

  “Do you mean that really heavy guitar riff?” asked the smallest of the fire demons.

  “Yeah, that,” agreed the middle demon.

  “I think humans call it ‘heavy metal’,” the tiny one added helpfully, looking around for the source of the strange music. Whatever it was called, it certainly helped set the mood. It made him feel like ripping things apart.

  “Shut up! Shut up!” screamed Uldin, earning a backhand from one of the demons that sent him flying against the far wall. The imp picked himself up off the floor and started trying to limp away before the Bad Man showed up.

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  At first he wondered why the other demons weren’t stopping him, but then he saw the bloody figure calmly strolling down the corridor towards them. The imp kept his head down and tried not to look up as the Bad Man closed in for the kill.

  Uldin let out a shiver as a shadow fell over him. Music roared in his ears and the smell of dried demonic ichor filled his nose. The imp expected to have his head torn from his shoulders at any moment. But the Bad Man ignored him, and kept walking toward the trio of fire demons.

  The Bad Man summoned a cigar and lit it. His cruel eyes blazing like hot coals as he sized up the demons. He carried no weapons, because the Bad Man didn’t need weapons. This dream was his domain, and no demon could hope to defeat him here.

  “Any of you boys wanna smoke?” Francis asked with a grin.

  ***

  “Uh, guys.” Not-Wolfie looked around nervously. “Is anyone else getting a bunch of System messages?”

  —

  Congratulations! Francis has defeated Ignacio the Fire Demon!

  Experience will be divided among the party!

  Congratulations! Francis has defeated Sparkles the Fire Demon!

  Experience will be divided among the party!

  Congratulations! Francis has defeated Ferris the Fire Demon!

  Experience will be divided among the party!

  —

  Swift grinned as he watched the dire wolves try to figure out what was happening. Technically they shouldn’t have gotten any XP. But Francis had Not-Wolfie in a headlock and was currently using him as a pillow, so Swift figured they were entitled to some compensation. Besides, they needed all the help they could get.

  The Dark Forest wasn’t exactly safe at the best of times, and bad things were headed their way. Swift didn’t mind nudging the scales in their favor to make sure they had a chance at survival. But there were limits for a reason.

  Worlds eventually fell apart if you went around changing things all willy-nilly. Even if you didn’t break things outright, culture and progress tended to stagnate under the weight of micromanagement. But more importantly, how could people surprise you if they never got the chance to make choices for themselves?

  Absolute power became absolutely boring after the first few thousand years, and Swift did not do well with boredom. He would make a few small adjustments, then step back and watch the fireworks. After all, it was a lot more fun if you didn’t know how things were going to end. But still, there was one loose end.

  The head of the Chaos Faction focussed his attention on Not-Wolfie. Without a class he was lagging behind the other dire wolves, and that didn’t bode well for their chances of survival. But what class to offer him?

  Ideally it would be something that played to his strengths and synergized well with the rest of the pack. Wizard and sorcerer were definitely out. Not-Wolfie would have loved to throw fireballs (or possibly retrieve ones other people threw). But he simply didn’t have the right stats for a magic based class.

  Assassin was a viable option. He had the stats, and it would give him a nice damage bonus. Too bad he would probably end up killing his pack-mates the next time they chewed too loudly. Or said something stupid.

  Not-Wolfie definitely had some anger issues that needed addressing and it didn’t help that the dire wolf thought he was smarter than the rest of his pack (despite having started out with identical stats). He was also stubborn, which would probably bite him in the ass sooner rather than later.

  Swift felt a memory tickle at the back of his mind. He pulled up the list of classes and subclasses to double check, and to his immense pleasure, the one he wanted was available. It would be a bit unorthodox to offer it to a dire wolf. But Not-Wolfie definitely qualified. Some might even say it was perfect for him.

  The next time Not-Wolfie leveled up, he would finally get his class. And it would be glorious.

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