Take the money. Join a guild. Kill monsters. Why wasn’t anything ever as easy as it sounded? Why couldn’t Matteo just be part of a big party--maybe ten or fifteen people much more qualified at what they were doing--and just coast along, throwing a punch or two or stealing a rabbit here and there? Why was [i]he[/i] the one wrestling in a muddy stream with a goblin pinned under his arm and a brand-new machete wound just yet another tally on the list?

[i]How discouraging.[/i]

He thought he must have screamed again as the first blow connected with his skull, but he couldn’t be sure. Somehow he withstood the barrage, brain shuddering under the sickening reverberation as the little monster struck again and again. He felt like stars were exploding behind his eyes as he reeled from the counterattack, grip starting to slacken despite himself.  

Thankfully, Ash’s shouting gave him something to come back to. Words for a bruised brain to process, orders for a numb conscience to follow. [i]Keep him down, keep him down.[/i] He wasn’t the strongest, but they’d taught him close-quarters combat. With the creature’s knife gone, the two were on the same level. He didn’t have to overpower it. He just had to [i]hang on.[/i] His grip around its waist tightened, determined not to let the muddy waters grease the goblin’s escape. [b]“No--you don’t,”[/b] he panted, barely able to string together words. Wouldn’t it be easier to just...

[i]”And always commit.”[/i]

Matteo screamed again when Ash slashed down at its throat.