A second arrow hissed through the air, but this time Rilian was prepared, he cut it in half with a clean, precise stroke of his sword.

"Ambush!" he shouted.

In front of him, the bushes rustled. A dozen men in rags burst out, armed with dull axes, rusty sabers, and bad intentions. A quick glance told Alice they were level 17 to 25, for what seemed to be the leader.

"Leave your purses and your horses, and we might even let you walk away alive!" sneered the leader, tall and broad as a wardrobe, his beard full of crumbs. His eyes wandered to Shaeka, who had quickly joined Alice on her horse, then to the latter, who shivered under his lecherous gaze, "Well, except for the two pretty ladies, of course. Those, we’re keeping."

"By Morgron’s balls," grumbled Griak as he got off his horse. "They want our goods and our women. I’ll teach them dwarven manners!"

He leapt to the ground and joined Rilian, positioning himself at his side. The agreement was silent, they would form the front line.

"The only thing we can give you is a quick death!" shouted Rilian, then to his friends, "Stay at a distance and cover us."

At the back, Osim was already chanting. He raised his staff above him. Around the tip of the wood, a large magic circle appeared, traced with moving runes. Two secondary circles intertwined with the first, slowly turning, creating a complex mechanism of glowing patterns.

Alice’s eyes widened in surprise. So that’s how they cast spells in this world? With visible, almost ritualistic magic circles? She, by comparison, needed only a thought and a word. Why this difference? Was she different… or simply more efficient?

Shaeka drew her bow with precision. The first arrow flew and struck the neck of a bandit approaching Griak. He collapsed with a gurgle. She shot again without delay. The second arrow flew… but swerved slightly.

Alice discreetly extended her hand, a tiny pulse of wind, barely a breeze. The trajectory adjusted just enough for the arrow to pierce another bandit’s thigh. He screamed and fell backward.

Shaeka frowned. She had seen the miss and the correction. But she said nothing.

Meanwhile, Griak roared and charged, smashing his shield into the chest of an attacker. The other two, surprised by the dwarf’s ferocity, recoiled. He spun on himself, bringing his axe down on the arm of another man. The bone cracked. He screamed, dropping his weapon. Griak shoved him back with a knee strike.

Beside him, Rilian faced four men, including the leader. He cut one bandit’s throat with a fluid slash. He moved with confidence, dodging strikes with elegance, his movements precise, his footing stable. He blocked a mace with his sword, pivoted, and drove his blade beneath another man’s collarbone.
"You’re fast, runt," growled the leader. "Let’s see how you fare against me!"

He lunged, swinging a heavy axe. Rilian retreated, but gave no ground.

Behind them, Osim’s magic circles reached full intensity. The runes flared like living constellations. He brought his staff down sharply. A fireball burst into the air, spinning, crackling, radiating fierce heat. The spell shot toward the leader…

But the colossus grabbed one of his own men and shoved him forward as a human shield. The fireball exploded, incinerating the poor man. The leader rolled across the ground, unharmed, though his clothes were scorched.

"Tch, too predictable," muttered Alice.

A cry rang out to her right. Yeoman, the tracker, had been thrown off his horse by two bandits. He struggled to get up, his bow lost, clutching a dagger awkwardly.

Shaeka reacted instantly. She leapt from her horse, unleashing her wild magic. A green wave pulsed around her, her legs seemed to vibrate with energy. She propelled herself forward with blinding speed, blade first, and crashed into one of Yeoman’s attackers. The dagger sank into his throat. The second bandit, startled, hesitated.

That pause was enough for Yeoman, who plunged his own blade into the man’s side, with more luck than skill.

"You alright?" asked Shaeka, pulling him toward her.

He nodded, still shaken.

"I’ve… had worse."

Meanwhile, Griak finally managed to finish off his remaining foes, with Hati’s help, who made sure the unfortunate men were truly dead by biting their throats. While patting the Fenrir’s head in praise, he glanced at Rilian, still dueling the leader.

The fight was brutal. Rilian dodged the heavy swings of the axe, but the brute’s raw strength forced him back. Their steps tore up the ground. At last, the leader raised his axe high for a decisive strike.

Rilian didn’t retreat. He ducked at the last moment, rolled under the attack, and as he rose, drove a precise thrust between the man’s ribs. The leader collapsed, stiff, his weapon still raised.

The remaining bandits were dead or fleeing; the road was clear once more.

Rilian wiped his blade, panting, smoothed back a rebellious strand of hair, and declared with mock drama:

"Shaeka hits me, bandits shoot at me… It’s tough being this irresistible."

Alice rolled her eyes.

"You talk a lot for someone who almost ended up skewered."

Rilian shot her an insolent wink.

"A very tasty skewer, though."

Shaeka, still breathless, chuckled as she sheathed her daggers:

"Keep it up, and I’ll be the one skewering you!"

[...]

The days had passed without respite. Since the first ambush, the group had faced two more bandit attacks and a nest of hungry goblins, not to mention wandering monsters along the way. They had also met a few traveling merchants and another group of adventurers. They took the opportunity to restock provisions and exchange some news about the continent with the adventurers.

Their path now followed a winding stream, a shortcut, according to Rilian. The horses advanced to the rhythm of their harnesses clinking and their hooves splashing. Boots pressed on slippery gravel beneath the water. Sometimes, a flock of birds burst out of the nearby reeds. The water shimmered under the glow of the setting sun, and the wind rustled the leaves in a constant murmur.

Alice cherished these moments, this pause between two worlds. She opened up more each day, willingly talking with Yeoman about tracking, with Griak about his home village, with Osim about life at the Tower of Babel, with Shaeka about the steppes of her childhood, and even with Rilian, despite his boasting.

That evening, they had set camp on a wooded rise. The horses grazed nearby. The fire crackled softly, casting dancing light on tired but content faces. A gentle smell of toasted travel bread and smoked meat lingered in the air.

Alice, leaning against a stump, watched the scene. Hati slept curled at her feet, his paws twitching with some unseen dream.

"Well," said Rilian, stretching his arms behind his head. "We didn’t do too badly on this adventure. We killed a bunch of bandits for the guild, and we even have the honor of escorting our lovely friend to her destination."

"Didn’t do too badly?" said Yeoman, raising an eyebrow. "You mean like when you almost got skewered by an arrow? Or when you ate that hallucinogenic mushroom? Even though our young friend warned you."

"It looked just like an edible mushroom from back home! Anyone would have fallen for it!" protested Rilian, grinning widely. "And I wasn’t the only one who slipped up…"

Laughter erupted. Griak had gotten stuck between two rocks chasing a goblin. Shaeka admitted to shooting an arrow into a tree, mistaking it for a monster. Even Osim had botched a spell because of a sneeze.

"It’s true we’re a bit of a band of misfits," laughed Shaeka. "And to top it off, we’ve got a mascot to match us, the queen of clumsiness herself!"

All eyes turned, grinning, toward Alice, who hunched over her piece of meat, blushing furiously. Indeed, she had tripped far too many times that week, stumbling over roots, stones, and even her own feet.

Ding!

[Achievement]
Congratulations, you have acquired a new title.
Queen of Clumsiness [-5 Agility +5 Charisma]

Alice almost choked. Even the system was mocking her?!

The atmosphere was light and warm. Alice, to change the subject, asked in a falsely innocent tone:

"So, what exactly are your statistics?"

A brief silence fell.

"My… stats?" repeated Yeoman, frowning. "Why are you asking that?"

"Uh… A friend told me about it. He said you could see them at the temple, right? Or with an adventurer’s card. So I was wondering what yours looked like…"

Yeoman grimaced.

"Technically, that’s personal. Adventurers prefer not to share that information. You never know who could use it against you."

"Such paranoia," sighed Shaeka. "Among traveling companions, we should be able to trust each other. Here, look."

She dug into her bag and handed Alice a stiff leather card, stamped with the guild’s symbol.

[Adventurer’s Card – Shaeka Faelthryn]

Race: Faërenne
Class: Ranger   Level: 25
Title: The Wild Beauty [Agility +3 Charisma +2]

Strength: 11 — Constitution: 22 — Agility: 28
Intelligence: 14 — Charisma: 15 — Luck: 6

Magics: Wild Magic - Level 2
Skills: Quick Aim - Level 3
     Bow Mastery - Level 4
     Dagger Mastery - Level 3
     Dismantling [...]

Alice’s eyes widened. It was identical to her system interface. Same format, same categories. Except… The numbers were low for her level.

She pretended to read carefully, nodded, then turned to Osim:

"Do they go up on their own with level, or…?"

"Oh no, not at all," replied the mage, visibly delighted by the question. "Level is an indicator of overall power, but stats depend on your training. For example, do you want more constitution? Run, endure, sleep less. Intelligence? Read, solve puzzles, meditate. Charisma is… more subtle: eloquence, appearance, social status. Luck is a bit different. They say you’re born with it and keep it until the grave."

"And you, what do you train in?" asked Rilian, mocking.

"I’m a doctorate student, so intelligence, obviously," retorted Osim, adjusting his glasses.

"I’m writing a thesis on stat growth conditions in hostile environments. That’s why I travel."

Alice slowly nodded, absorbing the implications. Her own system, however, raised stats effortlessly. Kill a monster, gain a level, assign points. Simple. Direct. Powerful. Was she… favored? Cheating, even without meaning to?

A thoughtful silence fell, soon broken by Griak:

"Did you know that Rilian, for all his swagger, is a hard worker? He’s been training like mad since he was six. He wants to beat his father in swordplay one day. Because of that, his stats are amazing compared to others!"

"You can’t be serious, not this again," groaned Rilian.

"He wants to become a hero," added Shaeka. "Save the world. Nothing less."

The boy sighed, then, with a calmer voice than usual, explained:

"My father is a living legend. He defeated a demon in single combat. He’s the captain of Avalon’s guard. All my life, I’ve been 'Doran’s son,' 'the Captain’s son,' 'the champion’s son.' Me; I want to be Rilian. A hero, just and good. I want… to be someone who matters, on my own."

A respectful silence followed. Even Griak didn’t joke.

"You already matter," said Shaeka softly. "But… I hope you succeed. A world with a hero like you would be a good one."

Alice looked at Rilian with new eyes. Beneath his big smiles and easy lines, he hid a true fire. A dream.

"And you, guys?" asked Shaeka, curious. "Why did you become adventurers?"

Osim answered first:

"For my thesis, as I said. But also… to see the world. I was locked away in the academy’s libraries. I wanted to understand living magic in the field."

"Me," said Griak, "I’m looking for the finest ores to forge a weapon worthy of my clan. A blade that will shame all my brothers."

Shaeka nodded softly.

"My people were enslaved after the last war. I fight to become strong enough… to free them."

Yeoman shrugged, a calm smile on his lips.

"Me? I just want to become a guard in a big city. Sleep in a real bed, get paid regularly. Glory’s for others."

They all turned to Alice.

But she stayed silent, her eyes lost in the flames. She thought of the goddess, of her mission, of her forgotten past, and of this strange system that made her so different.

"I… don’t know yet," she murmured.

That seemed enough.

The embers crackled softly. Sleep approached.

One last laugh broke out about a leech that had latched onto Rilian’s ear. Then silence.

Alice closed her eyes, her head resting against her bag. Hati snored lightly at her side.

At the edge of dreams, a foreign voice seemed to whisper, mischievous:

"Hehe… too easy with a unique magic. Just put them all to sleep."

Her eyelids flickered open for a moment. Heavy. Just shadows beyond the fire and the steady breathing of her companions. Then nothingness.