Swordsman sprang to his feet. Only then did he realize he was standing on a wagon. The swaying nearly made him lose his balance and fall onto Archer.

"Hey! Boy! Don't stand up like that! You'll cause an accident!" the driver scolded him.

He was an old man, hunched with age, wearing a straw hat and smoking a pipe clenched between jaws nearly twice the size of the rest of his face.

"Mr. Elliot, could we stop here?" Master asked, though her tone left little room for argument.

"Here? My lady, we're in the middle of nowhere."

"That doesn't matter. Stop."

The old man knew there was no point arguing with her. He brought the two donkeys pulling the worn-out wagon to a halt.

"You three. Get down." She turned to Mica and his friends. "I need you to show me what you're capable of."

Only after climbing down did Swordsman realize they weren't just somewhere else. They were dressed differently too.

Their clothes matched the classes they had chosen. All three wore leather armor. His own included a chainmail shirt beneath it and a sword at his hip. Dragoon carried a spear, a pair of greaves, and a helmet with pointed ear-like fins, the latter two made of worn, dented metal. Archer wore a tattered cloak and carried a longbow.

Standing before them, Master wore a brown hooded cloak trimmed with red and gold. She didn't appear to carry a weapon.

Another thing that surprised Swordsman was the weight of his equipment. It didn't bother him at all. In fact, it felt as though he'd been carrying it his entire life.

"All right. Show me."

The other two boys, Cleric and Rogue, watched with quiet interest from where they sat.

Swordsman drew his sword. His friends did the same.

"Uh..." He looked around. "What exactly are we supposed to do? Fight... the air?"

"Do you feel ready to fight something a little more... substantial?" Master asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Swordsman never got the chance to answer. A blast of wind slapped him across the side of the face. He turned toward its source. The grass rippled wildly. Dragoon was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere in his mind, a twenty-sided die rolled to a stop.

Eight.

Three... maybe five seconds later, Dragoon crashed to the ground several paces ahead with a loud crack. The landing had almost looked impressive. Almost.

His friend hadn't quite figured out how to land without breaking a leg. Now he lay on the ground, holding back tears from the pain.

"So... apparently not," Master observed.

She walked over to him. As she raised one hand, her cloak turned a spotless, almost radiant white. Threads of blue light flowed from her index and middle fingers, wrapping around Dragoon's leg. Another die appeared in Swordman's mind.

Twenty.

"You're lucky the bone didn't break through the skin." She lowered her hand. "Try standing."

Dragoon obeyed, his eyes wide with surprise.

"It doesn't hurt anymore." He stared at his leg. "Whoa."

Beside him, Archer bounced excitedly.

"Did you see the dice? Did you see how—"

"Enough." Master cut her off. "It should be obvious you're not ready for any of this." Her cloak was brown again. "We don't have time to train you, so you'll have to learn as you go. But don't worry. As long as I'm here, you'll be safe."

Without warning, Master rose into the air and returned to the wagon.

"Looks like it's goblin season," she announced.

"Goblins? My lady, there hasn't been a single goblin within hundreds of miles of here. Up in the mountains, maybe—"

The old driver kept grumbling, but Swordsman stopped listening. Several dice bounced across that same invisible place inside his mind. This time he couldn't make out the numbers. He didn't need to.

Deranged shrieks erupted all around them. The donkeys reared in terror.

"Ready?"

A dozen creatures rushed toward them. They looked more like monkeys than the goblins Swordsman had expected. Orange fur covered their bodies. Long fangs protruded from their mouths. They charged while wildly swinging crude bone weapons of all shapes and sizes.

Swordsman tightened his grip around his sword. He couldn't tell whether what he felt was fear or excitement.

Driven by an instinct that took him only a moment to realize felt completely natural, he settled into a fighting stance and emptied his mind.

Beside him, Archer drew three arrows from her quiver at a time, nocked them, and fired without hesitation.

Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. Seven.

Arrows filled the battlefield on her side. Most buried themselves harmlessly in the ground. Those that hit, struck vital spots.

Dragoon jumped again.

Twenty.

This time he hurled his spear from midair. It pierced a goblin straight through the head and pinned it to the ground. He landed perfectly on the shaft of the spear, sending a wave of electricity through the earth that scorched two more creatures.

Encouraged by the display, Swordsman charged the four goblins running straight toward him. He slipped past the first attack with the ease of a Sixteen, then cut the goblin down with a slash that sent its head flying.

Eighteen.

A couple of graceful steps carried him in front of another goblin. His blade drove straight through its chest.

Seventeen.

As he felt the sword push through skin, muscle, and even bone, his concentration almost faltered. He recovered just in time to see the third goblin's weapon racing toward his face...

With the dice still rolling through his mind, he reacted instinctively.

He forced the impaled goblin's corpse farther along his blade and blocked the incoming strike with its body. Pulling his sword free, he followed with a perfect vertical slash that nearly split the goblin in two. The fourth goblin watched the fate of its companions and turned to flee. An arrow caught it in the neck before it had taken more than a few steps.

Mr. Elliot clapped excitedly as the three heroes quickly and efficiently wiped out the wave of enemies.

His excitement vanished when more shrieks filled the air. This time, they came with a terrifying roar.

Master smiled and half a dozen dice bounced across the invisible surface.

Along with several more goblins, a creature three, perhaps four times their height appeared on the horizon. Its orange fur was mottled with brown patches. Its three powerful arms, like its two necks, were decorated with dozens of skulls of different sizes and in various stages of decay. One head was larger than the other, with four long, yellow fangs jutting from its mouth. The second looked wolf-like, with a long beard hanging from its muzzle.

"An Ettin," Mr. Elliot murmured, nearly fainting from fear.

The monster charged through the smaller goblins, shoving them aside with sweeping blows or striking them with a massive bone club. Maddened by the battle.

Swordsman looked from side to side, trying to decide whether to run or stand his ground. Dragoon seemed to be asking himself the same question. Archer wasn't.

Twenty. Twenty. Nineteen.

Three arrows crossed the distance between them and the giant. One buried itself in the large head's face. Another in its neck. The third pierced the smaller head's eye. The Ettin clutched its face with two hands, dropping the bone club as it roared in agony.

Dragoon grinned and leaped to join the attack but a bad roll sent his spear off target.

As he came down, the Ettin caught him by one leg. Seeing his friend in danger, Swordsman moved. He crossed the battlefield in a charge that ended with a deep slash across the monster's left leg. Suddenly, everything around him seemed to move more slowly. Or perhaps he had become faster. As though he'd spent his whole life doing this. He followed the feeling and struck twice more. Good rolls allowed the second slash to cut clean through the thick bone in the creature's leg, severing it completely.

The Ettin lost its balance and dropped to one knee. It didn't stop.

Roaring with rage, it lifted Dragoon high into the air before smashing him into the ground with a sickening impact. Without slowing, it raised Dragoon again, preparing to slam him down a second time. Its arm came off instead.

Twenty.

Master landed in front of Swordman. She held a greatsword in one hand as though it weighed nothing. She now wore spotless silver armor. Blood poured from the creature's severed shoulder.

Twenty.

With one swift movement of her arm and hips, Master slashed through the air.

Nineteen.

The Ettin's two heads hit the ground almost at the same moment as Dragoon.

Twenty.

Master's armor changed once more into the immaculate white robes. Blue threads of light wrapped around Dragoon. He let out a violent gasp as consciousness returned.

"Not bad for your first time," Master said. Her clothes returned to the worn brown cloak. "But next time I'd recommend attacking the arm that's holding your ally," she scolded Swordsman before turning to Dragoon. "And you, I'd recommend not making such a reckless entrance if you don't know how to pull it off."

The Ettin's body collapsed to the ground as she turned her back and walked toward the wagon. The remaining goblins fled in terror.

"What about me, Master? What about me?" Archer asked, bouncing excitedly with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

"You okay?" Swordsman ignored the girls' conversation and offered Dragoon a hand.

"Sore and humiliated." Dragoon accepted it and got back to his feet. "But perfectly fine."

"This is insane, isn't it?" He looked around. "It's almost as if—"

"Sarah!?"

A woman's voice shouted from upstairs.

In an instant, they were all back in the basement, sitting in a semicircle as though nothing had happened.