We are "monsters."

The world is our enemy.

Everything that breathes, that moves, that can fight or feed is our enemy.

Reader. You are my enemy. But you are also the enemy of my enemies. And my enemies are your enemies as well.

You do not see it yet. The cold reality of the System. You are insulated. You are a child of a gentler time, hanging from the tangled umbilical of a golden age wrapped around your neck, choking at the top, but also unwilling to sever yourself from the grand delusion of what is wanted and what we are.

We are damned. We are doomed. There is no way out. There is no true victory. There is only the fight and the hunger, the blood and the now. Before I grew powerful enough to be cursed with sapience, I knew this. I knew it down to my very core.

The System wants us to kill. The System wants us to feed. The System wants us to grow. The System wants us to mutate, and it wants us to die in ways unimaginable to feed it. So it can grow larger.

We are inside something. Our struggles feed it. Our wars feed it. And it grows. Greater than any monster. Than any individual.

We are "monsters."

We are "individuals."

We are "enemies."

But I do not hate you.

I am finished with the System's ways. I am done being its lesser mirror. I will not feed it anymore.

But it cannot be warred against. How can you deny war itself its violence?

It cannot be done. Not unless you do the very thing that monsters cannot, that individuals refuse, that gnaws at your instinct and spirit.

Starve yourself. Fast your heart. Shrivel your spirit. Grow no more in terms of Path nor Skills. Let entropy flow through you. And let entropy take the System. Give the leviathan no nutrition. Watch it shrivel from within.

Die with purpose.

In this, all of us can be more than "monsters," "individuals," and "Pathbearers."

In this, we gain the only true victory we will ever know.

Let the great beast starve.

-Lugh Silverclaw's Deep Atlantic Manifesto

228 (I)

Volunteer [I]

"Professor Matlock?" Shiv said, walking into the office of his Culin E-333 professor to officially introduce himself. It took him a while to find the right building—and by this point, Shiv was done grinning at the flying towers and just found them a gimmicky pain in the ass. Most of the tower he was currently in was devoid of people and used primarily for storage. The few members of the faculty Shiv encountered here had their doors shut and warded, with additional notes taped to the outside that they were not to be disturbed.

Only one room cast a light into the dusty halls. That one room also had a group of rat people clad in tiny plate armor and livery, dragging out what looked to be the statue of a dog with a pipe in its mouth.

"Coming to see Matlock, are ye?" One of the Rat-Knights said with a thick accent.

"Uh, yeah," Shiv said, still not entirely used to dealing with talking rats.

The five Rat-Knights all spat on the ground at once, and one squeaked something that was almost certainly a slur. "He's a liar, a coward, a cretin, and a cad. If you need his aid in facing the frog-kin, know that he is not to be counted upon. I spit upon him, and I spit upon those of his blood; brace yourself to do the same."

The Deathless was briefly speechless. "I, uh… Shit, sounds rough, you know. Sorry about whatever he did."

"Your sympathies are accepted, peasant human," the first lead Rat-Knight said. "And if you are seeking a better grade, forget it. The man despises you almost as much as he despises keeping his word."

"Huh. Why does he hate me?"

"Because you are a filthy student, and he would much rather be planning his next vacation. You are warned, and we are away. Squires! Be us away! Death to the frog-kin."

And once more, the rats spat in unison and continued hauling the stone dog away right after.

"The hells was that?" Shiv said, watching them go as he prepared to enter the office of one Hero-Instructor Garrick Matlock.

A moment later, he was speechless. The room could best be described as a nightmarish mess. The ground was littered with different maps, some half-drawn, others badly disfigured by flames or ink-spills. Then, there were the discarded compasses, books, and boxes scattered atop these maps. Shiv faintly felt pulses of Dimensionality coming from each of the maps, and he narrowed his eyes—

"Don't step on them!" a wheezing voice came from the back of the room. Shiv's gaze snapped to attention, and instead of a desk, the instructor here seemed to have a crate they used to conduct all their business. And eating. And performed nail clippings. Then, there was that glass jar filled with questionable contents.

Good felling shit, is that a jar of piss? It smells like piss. Shiv did what he could to not grimace.

With a loud hum, Matlock popped up from behind his crate, holding what seemed to be a gem-encrusted lobster. He then accidentally knocked his jar of piss over, and it shattered and splashed on one of the maps draped across the ground. Yet, rather than staining the map, the fluids vanished. "Oh, damn. That's headed for Onalulula. Some poor seagull is probably going to get a splash of piss-esophagus in the eyes. Dimensional maps, boy. They're dangerous. One wrong step, and you might be lost to the Summer Court in the Fairwoods."

"Uh," Shiv stammered.

"They won't take you for a love-slave, at least." Matlock squinted at him. "Not pretty enough."

Shiv pushed through his discomfort so he could get signed up for a restaurant shift as soon as possible. "Is this not a good time, Professor?"

"It's never a good time. It's office hours. Office hours are meant to torture us into submission." Matlock ran the gem-crusted lobster through his luscious black hair as if it were a comb. "But enough about me. Come, come."

Shiv entered the office proper, trying not to step on any of the maps. He took in the instructor with a growing feeling of uncertainty. Matlock had the look of someone that belonged in an illustration somewhere. The man was unusually pretty. His silver, shoulder-length hair seemed to shine like moonlight, his skin practically sparkled, his eyelashes were long and curled, and he had a set of twinkling earrings threaded through his left lobe. His chin was sharp—the kind of sharp that actually seemed pointed, but despite this, Shiv struggled against the overwhelming desire to tell this man his deepest secrets.

But this wasn't the first time Shiv encountered someone with a powerful Charm skill. He remembered Angelo, wondered how the rogue vampire was doing, but then Matlock spoke again, and the Deathless's thoughts nearly parted like smoke. Only the presence of his Psycho-Cartography kept him aware. Be careful with this guy, Shiv. He seems utterly uninterested in you. It's simply that powerful a passive skill.

"So, which is it? Are you going to beg for an extension? Because I don't give those. A thousand pages in three days is not a lot of reading, trust me. I got far more done when I was your age. In fact, I could do twice that much, and I was busy swashbuckling all across the Atlantic. I learned a technique that allowed me to read in my sleep. If you read my syllabus, you would have learned how to do it."

"Why, um, no, I'm, uh, I recently applied to Culinary E-333," Shiv began.

"Huh! Oh! Good! That! Perfect! Another minion!" And suddenly, the instructor's demeanor changed. A grin split his face ear to ear. "You applied for E-333? Oh, oh, oh, good, no." Matlock laughed, and he placed the lobster against his forehead. "I was so worried you were from my Counter-Dimensional Navigation course. Let me tell you, the students there just don't know how good they have it. Complaining! Always complaining. You have to be prepared when you want to venture out across the world. Integrated Earth is filled with a great many dangers, but everyone just reads about the treasures and precious experiences. From the books, you have no idea how much effort it takes to have a beautiful moment."

"I might," Shiv said vaguely. "It took a hell of a lot for me to get here."

The instructor looked him up and down and nodded. "Oh, I suppose so. Far be it from me to discount the hardships of, oh, good, you're also not a noble. Bleh! That smell. Agh, but I can handle that. Nobility, bah, they're just the children of bygone warlords and proper Pathbearers past, am I right?"

Psycho-Cartography: Do not answer that question. He is trying to goad you right now. I think. I cannot actually tell with this one. Be careful.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"Can't say," Shiv replied. "Don't really know that many nobles. I don't make assumptions."

Matlock tilted his head and then winked at him. "Oh, you're a clever one, aren't you?"

And suddenly, Shiv felt the charm radiating off the man reach obscene levels. The Deathless bit back a groan as he did his best to ignore how much the man was glimmering. "Anyway, Professor, I got the cookbook—"

"Ignore the cookbook. It's useless. It's drivel. It's trash."

Shiv blinked, "But… It says here that you wrote it…"

"Then I wrote drivel, trash. It's useless. What you need to do right now is— Give me a second." He ducked back behind the crate again, and a series of objects, ranging from knives to glass cubes containing living insects, began flying through the air. A second later, the instructor rose, flinging a massive portrait that didn't seem like it could fit behind the narrow space behind the crate at the wall. It shattered, and its pieces vanished upon striking a map. After that, he finally pulled out a chart and placed it in front of his guest.

"What's this?" Shiv looked down.

"This is a series of restaurants you can volunteer at. These are the times they're open, and these are the positions they have available. Now, do you have any cooking experience?"

"Yes," Shiv said, almost absentmindedly. He caught himself and gulped. "I've… done a few things in a kitchen before."

"Done a few things?" Matlock asked. "What kind of things? Because sexual favors are things. We don't need those. The chefs, they good for many things, but they're terrible lays. I know from personal experience and the experience of a few previous students. Do you know what causes celibacy? Bad sex. It's like an anti-skill, boy, let me tell you about—"

Okay, I want to leave! Shiv screamed internally. He spoke over Matlock so they could get this class thing sorted and avoid the horrible chef-sex stories. "I know the general structure of a chicken, I can carve potatoes, prepare greens, and I know a few things about wine. I also know how to work most kitchen appliances. So, yeah."

Matlock suddenly glared at Shiv, and briefly, his irises glinted with mana as he used his Analyze Skill. "Interesting. You don't seem to have a very, hmm, yeah… Cooking's not great for you."

"Well, I wasn't cooking for pleasure. It's a thing of survival, especially up north."

And suddenly, the professor's demeanor changed once more. He winced. "Ah, sorry, the giant territory, is it? Old Brunswick?"

"Yeah," Shiv said. "How can you tell?"

"You have that look, that sad look, the kind that children develop when they aren't sure if they're prey or Pathbearer for much of their lives. Well, this might be an opportunity for you to find something beautiful to do. Have a gander. Pick a place that suits your heart's fancy. Tick the boxes when you are available, and I will assign credit if the restaurant is satisfied. You need to work at least a hundred hours for full credit, you understand?"

"Yeah," Shiv said. "I got that."

He looked down at the many restaurants, but he struggled not to frown. All he had to go on were a series of names, a few words about what their main courses might be, and the rest were open positions. There were quite a few spots already taken, but they were early in the day or pretty late into the evening.

Most of the other students volunteering were either aiming for roles as servers or front desk attendants. Only in a few rare cases were actual cooking roles taken, with the assistant grill station position proving especially coveted. However, the other preparatory spots were left open. As Shiv looked through the myriad different restaurants, he decided that he wanted to experience their operations in person before he decided to commit to a more dedicated role in the kitchen.

"Hero-Instructor," Shiv said, mulling over his choices, "what do you think is the roughest kitchen someone could volunteer at?"

"Roughest kitchen," Matlock said. He almost guffawed. "You're a brave boy, aren't you?"

"No, I just want to see what hard looks like before I decide to go easy."

"Oh, clever. That's the way to live, you know? Do the hard thing first and then enjoy the easy spoils after. Well then..." Matlock flipped the chart over and began mumbling to himself, and after a while, his finger fell upon one name with a decisive thud.

Shiv looked down and mouthed the words, "Monster Mystery Meat…."

"They're an odd bunch, you know, not a large operation, and practically no student who volunteered there has lasted more than a few days."

"Why's that?" Shiv said? "Hard work schedule? Shiv looked at Monster Mystery Meat's boxes and noted how all the boxes there were empty.

"It's not about the hours, it's about the demand. Eating at Monster Mystery Meat is an experience, the kind of experience you won't get anywhere else. Meat there is sourced directly from the most exotic beasts and the deepest dungeons. Even from the Abyss itself."

Shiv thought back to Courtney, his basilisks, and the Jealousy he'd cooked. "Is it, now? That sounds pretty interesting. And unique. I don't think I heard of anyone doing that before."

"That's because most chefs aren't very good martials, and most martials usually don't want to risk their lives trying to hunt the most exotic monsters for consumption purposes." Matlock spat onto a map, the globule vanishing to somewhere unknown. "Cowards, the lot of them. As such, Monster Mystery Meat is both a mercenary group and a restaurant. They go out, they find the oddest creatures they can fight, they slay them, and they bring them back, offering the flesh as fine meals. To eat there is at once an adventure and a triumph in the pioneering spirit of humanity. The flavors are unparalleled and unique." Matlock sighed, shaking his head as if he were reminiscing on better times. "However, sometimes the kitchen is chaotic. Sometimes the ingredients… they get free."

Now Shiv's interest was completely captured. "What do you mean, the ingredients get free?"

"I mean, sometimes it's hard to slay certain creatures for good. Have you ever tried killing a Legendary Lobster?" Matlock picked the lobster he'd been waving around earlier back up. "This one isn't dead. No, it teleported out of its shell. And while I was distracted, while I thought I'd claimed its life..." The instructor suddenly lifted his left leg and slammed it on the table. "...it came out of the sand behind me and hacked my limb off in a blink!"

Shiv's eyes widened. "A lobster did that to you?"

"Not just any lobster. The lobster. The single most feared duelist across the Atlantic and Pacific both. Silverclaw."

Shiv stared at the gem-encrusted lobster shell. "So, Silverclaw is, what, an Awakened Lobster?"

"Oh, he's far more than merely awakened. He's more cunning than most men can ever dream of being. He's quicker and deadlier than a Hero of Swordsmanship. And to top it all off, he was never meant to be. Do you know what it takes for just a meager lobster to rise to the level of sapience, to survive the wrath of beasts the size of mountains—the kinds that can displace the ocean?" Matlock's gaze went somewhere distant. "My first encounter with Silverclaw was right near the port of High Harbor. For three nights and three days, me and the rest of the crew of the Whore Princess fired our cannons, launched our skills into the waters, and for three nights and three days, they bounced off the hide of the Ragged Ahab."

The professor realized Shiv didn't know what he was talking about and did a double-take. "The Ragged Ahab, the Piledriver of Ships, the Suplexer of Mountains, the kraken-whale-wyrm bastard with incredible abdominals? The Seducer of the Duchess of Minlo."

"What?" Shiv said, utterly lost.

"Ah, ah, you northern boys, always cut off from the rest of the Republic. It's a big whale that's also a part kraken, a part wyrm, a part elf. It's also the single greatest grappler you will ever face. And we almost had him. We bombarded him for days, but finally, as his strength was flagging, we were holding him down, preparing to cut his heart open and offer it back to the Ascendants as part of our return tribute, SILVERCLAW!" Matlock cried aloud, shaking the lobster in his hand. "He emerged. He came. He cuuuuuuucckkkkked us! Have you seen a lobster behead a monster the size of an island with one stroke?!"

"...No," Shiv whispered, unsure if Matlock was insane or just screwing with him.

"Well, Silverclaw did. He exploded out of the water and cut the Ragged Ahab in half. We were offended, of course, and we tried to strike him down. But he disarmed us. And then, he cut our clothes off and took our ship hostage."

"Why did he cut your clothes—"

"The lobster spoke his manifesto to us first, and I was the only one able to resist his charm. He took me as a true challenge, and he brought me down to the captain's quarters for personal interrogation." Matlock leaned in and sprayed spittle all over Shiv's face. "Sexual interrogation."

Shiv's breath hitched, and he took an involuntary step backward.

"I resisted valiantly, but his refractory period—"

"Professor, I think I'm going to just tick Monster Mystery Meat," Shiv quickly said, now absolutely certain he didn't want to deal with this man. "It's almost lunch, right? I'll do three hours right now to start. That sounds good, no?"

Matlock ignored him. "—was absurd. I was a veteran of both bed and battlefield, but, by the Ascendants, I was being worn down. I cried out to Longinus for support, and the Wanderer gave it to me. The tides of the struggle shifted! And just as I was about to assert my dominance over the lobster—"

Shiv stopped thinking or listening and just ticked three hours for lunch under the Commis role. "Yeah, so, here. I'll do this."

"—he cut my leg off to distract me! And then he used that to make me spill other fluids aside from blood."

Psycho-Cartography: There must be some combination of bleach and other poisons that will induce short-term memory failure. We can spend some time discovering that specific combination after we leave this place. Death is of no consequence, but there are some things that really shouldn't be known.

"So, uh, wait, didn't you say he took your leg off when you were trying to ambush him on a beach somewhere?" Shiv stammered, his intrusive thoughts getting the better of him before he could get the professor to confirm the schedule.

The instructor paused. "Well, no, that was the third time he took my leg. This was the first. But I bested him in lovemaking on the beach, I'll have you know. I grew wise to his ways, and there's a skill that makes you faster and more durable at—Oh, you chose Commis!" Matlock chuckled, lifting up the chart. "You're a brave one. You're entering dangerous territory. Student, harden yourself and remember to make sure the ingredients are dead. And if you find yourself in bed with a crustacean, remember to tug on their hind legs. It hurts at first, but they like it. You'll see."

Psycho-Cartography: What the fuck?

"Uh, uh, eh, uh," Shiv said, doing his best interpretation of a bear trying to pass a kidney stone while solving a math equation.

"Don't do that. Don't make those noises. It'll invigorate Silverclaw if he knows he has you."

"I—I—I," Shiv said in a loop, "I think I want to work now, Instructor! Work is good. I need to go—uh, directions and—"

"Just check your pin," Matlock said, waving his hand. He suddenly gripped Shiv by the collar of his uniform and pulled him close, his voice dropping three octaves as he whispered into his ear, "And remember: you wanted this."

He let Shiv go, who immediately took a step back again. And then another. Matlock chuckled. "But don't be ashamed if you need to tap out early. No students have died working at Monster Mystery Meat so far, but a few have been bitten in half by a dragon-sized duck. Surprisingly vicious when they're that large. Javelina was very unhappy about that, but the giant duck soup was quite unique."

"Giant duck soup," Shiv said, nodding as he rapidly backed away from Matlock, avoiding maps as he walked without showing the professor his back. "Got it. I'll be careful, and… avoid giant ducks… and stuff."

"And remember what I told you about Silverclaw," Matlock said, dead serious. "He goes to Monster Mystery Meat sometimes. He enjoys their Long Pig. Don't seem too unique, or you'll awaken his urges."

Psycho-Cartography: Leave the room. Seal the door. Set the tower on fire.

"I, yeah, I get—I have to go." Shiv threw himself out of the doorway just as a notification loaded.

Volunteer Hours Assigned: 11 AM - 1 PM

Directions Gained for: Monster Mystery Meat

Broken felling Moon, what kind of elective class did I pick for myself? Shiv lamented.

"Marcus!" Matlock said. "Close the door, if you don't mind. I don't need another student falling across the world again—especially now that it will get Harlock angry at me."