Max slipped on the wet, freezing mud. The bad luck turned good in an instant, when the open street in front of him suddenly broke into sharp spikes of ice trying to impale him. Just as he was about to move, he heard another eruption of magic further down the street before the heavy footsteps of the duke’s horses brought relief. The guards and local police were on the hunt for the magic users and had inadvertently become Max’s protectors. The noises began distancing. Going through the twisting cluster of peasant homes beside the tall estate walls must’ve helped him give them the slip. Panting heavily on the floor, Max took the opportunity to recover for a moment.

  “Howdy, Max!” From the back door of one of the squalor homes, stood one of the local horse-like townies, who worked part-time at the inn. He was also one of Kurt’s accomplices with framing his targets. “Running away from the bounty hunters again?”

  Max nodded while looking at the warm fire peeking out from behind the door. It would be much safer there, even though it was little more than a shack. Sitting in the mud made him feel so cold.

  “I’m surprised His Grace’s men haven’t caught them already.”

  “They’re slippery,” Max admitted, finally picking himself up from the floor. They were also unorganised, and definitely not part of Edric’s lot. It seemed like Edric had figured out Max was Max after discovering 50042’s body. Otherwise, they would have much bigger problems. Despite the regular chaos the bounty hunts from the system and the king were bringing, it had been well received by the locals. It’s only been a week since they reunited with Kurt, but the townies had already adjusted to the newest, regular explosions of magic ripping through the town on a daily basis. “You think I could come in to warm up?”

  The townie looked Max up-and-down before quickly declaring, “No,” and slamming his back door close behind him. It was disappointing but not unreasonable. Max tried wiping off some of the mud when he heard the sounds of conflict racing back towards his direction. Did they realise Max had given them the slip? The door suddenly opened again. “Thought you could do with this,” he offered out a small pocketknife. “You know, in case you get caught.” Max merely took out his own from his pocket. “Ah, well, good luck against them.” The door slammed closed again.

  A few sticky steps later and the door threw open again. “Oh, come in, you look like a wet dog.”

  “Funny you say that. I was named after a dead dog.” Max greedily took him up on the offer. Only after closing the door firmly behind him, did he relax a little. The home was quaint and cosy with meagre furnishings apart from one outlier. There was a taxidermy horse in the corner of the room. “Nice place. Nice horse.”

  “Kurt gave it as a birthday present.”

  “He’s very generous,” Max complimented. Both of them admired the plain brown horse while ignoring the fighting and neighing occurring outside. “You’re making lunch?” He said with an eager voice before nodding over to the simmering pot over the fire.

  “Only for me.” Max tried to make his hunger less apparent but was failing. “If you’re looking for food, why don’t you go to the estate? Kurt will get you lunch.”

  “Cy and Kurt are doing a final sweep to check it’s safe for me.” They had come all this way to help Kurt, but in the end, he was helping them more. Nik’s workshop was one of the safest places for them, because no one wanted to approach. The inn was always giving them significant discounts on dinners. Kurt also listened to Max’s nonsensical story about Pompey, believed him, and then carved Max and Cy’s name into the crystal so they’d always be free from its constraints. They got lucky that only the native writing of their names was required. “Most of the plotters and my potential hunters were kicked out or imprisoned the other day.”

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  “That psychic vet sure is something special.” Max agreed without hesitation. “He offered to read my fate the other night. Should I let him?”

  “Depends on if you’re a flexible or fixed fate.” He gave Max a confused look. “Just ask him to clarify which one you are before getting your fate read. If it’s fixed then it’ll be mostly solid, if it’s flexible then it’s a waste of time.”

  “Ah-ha.” It was obvious his advice had completely gone over his head. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door causing both of them to turn. “Just a minute!” The townie cried out before immediately covering his mouth with regret.

  “Open the door.” The voice on the other side of the door was hostile.

  He gave a panicked look at Max, who replied calmly in a whisper. “I’ll go through that window. Open the back door and stay calm. It’s probably one of the duke’s men.”

  “Why go through the window when you could just go through the front door?”

  Max nodded, as he felt embarrassed by his unhinged plan. When he opened the front door, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed by the lack of threat which could justify leaping out another window. Maybe he was easily influenced by his friends as Kurt suggested.

  After getting clear of most of the fighting, Max had to think about where he could go to lay low.

  Following Kurt’s footsteps a few days prior, it was easy to break back into the estate and head for Pompey’s tower. The window had already been replaced with thicker glass, but it didn’t stop Max from busting it in. The duke and his son didn’t seem to mind, so why should he? Being back in the familiar twisted staircase caused him to shiver. The nun and the imposter; they had both deeply unsettled Max. Even the idea of ‘the final death’ didn’t unnerve him like they do.

  Looking for clues, he paid more attention to the environment around him. There was nothing aside from the alarming amount of horse inspired decoration. His mind began to ponder while he climbed the stairs.

  His running theory was that Aldwin had managed to take on Adelaide’s form. Out of anyone from the village, he would be the one to know her mannerisms. Did he follow her here? Or was it reversed? Until he could talk with Adelaide, he could only speculate.

  On the other hand, Max couldn’t deny Aldwin completed a five-star story.

  Being able to use some kind of transfiguration magic without being afflicted by the crystal downstairs, mingling with the locals as a professional, the completion mark from the system; it all pointed to the same conclusion. 1,290,393 / 502,192 / 78,291 / 1,249 / 3. One, two, three, four, five-star stories. It was a decent hint for once despite the mystery behind it. The only question Max couldn’t discern was whether 3 indicated the number of times a five-star story was completed or the number of people who’ve done it. Based on their recruitment process in the last life, the former appeared more likely.

  Pompey, Aldwin, and Max; the only three to have completed a five-star story. The idea was unnerving. Max knew how he was able to complete his five-star story, and it was mostly due to the determination of June and Edric… And getting really lucky with a body that had an insane amount of internal magic… As well as the Athena computer June developed for them…. Not to mention a lot of sacrifices made by their community... And the local people… All in all, it took a village for him to complete it. How on earth did the others accomplish the same feat?

  Opening the door to a deserted room only amplified his feelings. How they were able to do it was a mystery. However, their feelings towards the disappearing nun were clear. She scared the shit out of them.

  “I thought I heard a window breaking.” Max jumped out of his skin before looking behind him to see Kurt. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were coming tomorrow?”

  “Nik kicked me out for making too much noise, and I got attacked earlier. I thought I could hide here for a bit.” Kurt gave an understanding nod before he couldn’t help snickering from Max’s grumbling stomach. “I… had to get up early today.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, come on then Mr. Early Riser. Cy already cleared the staff in the Western Wing. There’s a kitchen there. Let’s get you something to eat.”

  Max followed Kurt before he shamefully admitted. “I don’t know if Bessie told you, but I really can’t cook.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”