“Somebody’s looking bored,” I say.

  Attendant Tryss startles and focuses his eyes on me. “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “What’s a hotshot like you doing in a dingy old place like this?”

  “Saw that you were about to fall asleep and thought I’d do you a favor. I also have mana crystals to deposit.” A sizeable pile spills on top of the counter.

  Tryss lifts a brow at my bounty. “Couldn’t you have warped them?”

  “I could have, but where’s the fun in that,” I say. He sighs and beams the gems to storage. “They got you manning the front?”

  Tryss gives me a shrug. “Whose fault do you think that is? Staff’s reduced so we all chip in. And if I’m needed, the Hall can run itself while I’m gone. But in the end, you can’t beat that personal touch, can you?” I nod approvingly.

  We chat some more about whatever. After that, with my dungeon quota for today fulfilled, I warp back home.

  Elisa is expecting me, dressed and ready to go. But the question is...

  “Going somewhere?”

  “I am. And so are you.”

  “Where could that be?”

  “A date. A proper one.”

  “Mmm. Give me two nanoseconds.” Rugged and resilient clothing is replaced by one that matches her formality. “I’m ready to be escorted.”

  The elf smiles and grabs my arm. A warp puts us in front of a cafe in Treehome. The small building is nestled within drooping trees, covering it with green. What elves are milling about or enjoying the outside seating glance absentmindedly at the people that materialized from thin air, do a couple of double takes, and then force themselves to not stare.

  Elisa pulls me inside, smiling happily. The interior is somehow even cozier than the exterior. Soft light trickles in from curtained windows. There’s just a hint of wood—courtesy of the construction utilizing chiefly that material—not at all overpowering the other aromas. Freshly baked delights and steaming hot drinks.

  While we are walking to a free spot, we are once more the reluctantly ignored center of attention. Elisa does not seem to even register the inconspicuous gazes as she is guiding me to a table. When she seats me, she goes off to order from the baker slash owner. Not all subscribe to the notion that technological improvements are necessary. And they oftentimes aren’t.

  As Elisa sits down across from me and creates a simple privacy barrier, she says, “Nice place, huh.” I affirm. “Everyone is looking at us.” I affirm again. “Feeling self-conscious?” I affirm a third time. “It’s so cute how you can flip from bold to shy at the slightest little thing.” She grins at my blushing face. “Case in point.”

  Ahem. “How was today’s class?”

  Elisa allows my change of subject gracefully. “So cute.” That’s gracefully for her. “Packed to the rafters again. And even the recording’s getting views. As per projections.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Before I met you, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “What’s so hard to believe? Your very apprentice embodies the same.”

  “Would she have been my apprentice without you? No. Not a chance.”

  I reach over and take her hand in mine. “Maybe. And if I hadn’t met you, I might not be here anymore. We both helped the other grow.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Corny. Go back to being shy right this instant.”

  “Try and make me.”

  My subtle invitation for a kiss accomplishes its objective. Now we’re both blushing.

  Unfortunately, Elisa gets saved by the bell, as a splendid spread settles on top of the table—pastries, sandwiches, and tea. The elf stuffs a chocolate-filled swirly thing in her mouth and points excitedly for me to try it too. As always, delicious.

  With the enemy troops reduced, the elf washes down a bite with a sip. “Best tea I’ve had in my life.”

  I also take a sip, feeling the pleasant prickling of mana. “Pity they don’t do delivery.”

  “It just wouldn’t taste the same if it isn’t drank here. The food too.”

  “I guess I can see that.”

  “That’s why your cooking is even better,” Elisa says. Only to grin right after, her own objective also accomplished.

  Thoroughly filled at the end of our afternoon snack, we offer our compliments to the elf responsible. The baker’s fussy facade does not conceal her emotions as well as she thinks it does. And not because she knows who we are. She’s that way with everyone. Makes the food even tastier for some reason.

  When we exit the establishment, Elisa offers me her arm again.

  Another warp brings us somewhere entirely different. Stone, smoke, and sweet, sweet suds.

  We are standing in front of a stadium constructed out of black stone. A line of people is streaming in. The dwarves around have no reservations about gawking at us and making it painfully obvious. Though I don’t care one bit.

  “I love you.”

  The elf chuckles. “You are so easy.”

  “Let’s line up already, so we can grab nice seats.”

  “Uhn-uh. Not this line.”

  I let her drag me over to a much less inconspicuous entrance.

  The dwarf standing by the doorway gives Elisa a silent nod and lets us through.

  Once inside, the elf leads me deeper in, descending a few sets of stairs, and ending up at a staging area. The rowdy space quiets down when people start recognizing us. A hundred dwarves are silently observing, having been caught off guard by both mine and Elisa’s presence.

  Under their watchful gazes, I approach one of the many tables filling the space, grab a tankard, and drain it.

  A primal proclamation makes its way out, “My drone’s gonna pound your sorry excuses for golems into scrap!”

  My favorite opposing opinions are ‘Says the tin can’, ‘Scrawny little thing like you’s getting bent like a twig’, and just the most garbled retort possible from a dwarf that is already sloshed to the gills.

  The mood instantly turned, Elisa and I start mingling with my fellow competitors.

  Some time later, while the elf is drinking the tenth dwarf under the table, and I am discussing the intricacies of golem engineering with masters of the trade, an event official makes himself known with a loud shout. The opening match appears to be mine.

  A curved tunnel, sloping gently up, brings me to the arena that could be seen from the staging area, and on the many displays there. Including the official livestream. And, oh boy, are people tuning in.

  On one side of the sandy pit is my lonesome. On the other is my opponent and his golem. Around us is the confused audience, just now learning of my participation, their cheers losing the intensity by the second.

  An amplified voice sounds out, “Our first match today is a very special one, folks.” Hushed whispers propagate through, but the announcer drowns them out. “In the north, we have Griftib and his Heartstealer!” The dwarf lifts his arms up, the sleek golem next to him emulating the action, trying to rouse the crowd. Very little success. “And in the south... You may know him as Stonefist the Liberator. Or as Lucius of Harthes, an up-and-coming adventurer. Or... you may know him as... Lucius of Earth!” Before the crowd can react, the announcer continues, “But don’t forget, he’s not the one fighting. His Knight is!”

  A Knight drone warps five meters in the air and to my side. The drone’s gravity drive plunges it to the sand, landing with a resounding thud and kicking up a cloud of dust. Through the fast-clearing obstruction, my creation slowly rises, to be seen by all. This drone was one of the few that survived the Maw, its battle scars proudly on display.

  As if a string has snapped, the proverbial spell breaks and the stadium erupts.

  While the announcer is announcing more stuff, Griftib and I exchange nods of recognition. We both step back and exit the arena proper, standing in the operator section.

  “Both ready?” the announcer asks. We both affirm. Silence falls once again as the disembodied voice counts down. Until... “Begin!”

  Heartstealer blinks behind my Knight and tries to showcase why it’s named that way. Its clawed hand skids across the back of my drone, failing to add another gash in the armor. What it succeeds at is eating an elbow.

  Heartstealer, sans head approximation, tries another piercing strike. There’s a reversal of roles. My Knight tosses the intact core to its creator as the rest of the creation flops to the sand.

  If the previous cheering could be classified as an eruption, the current is an honest to goodness explosion.

  Griftib and I meet in the middle of the arena. He shakes his head at his disabled golem, then directs a smile my way, returned in kind. We shake hands and turn around, walking back to our sides with nothing needing to be said.

  Before exiting the arena, my Knight and I bump chests and flex for the crowd.

  I am watching the next match, enjoying golems smacking each other and getting smacks myself—the ‘attaboy’ kind. Elisa is next to me.

  “What do you think of the date?” she asks.

  “Definitely top three.”

  The elf huffs out a ‘smartass’, but there is a happy smile on her face. And so is there one on mine.