He Who Fights with Monsters 5: A LitRPG Adventure



“Eleven silver-rank monster cores,” Jason listed as he lay the loot out on the table. “Thirty-one tubs of toad jelly; not sure what that’s for.”

“You put it in tubs?” Cotsworth said.

“It came that way,” Jason said. “My looting power can be funny like that. We took our cut of the silver spirit coins and we’re keeping the lower rank ones we looted ourselves. I daresay the army of monsters will give you enough to be going on with. Three tins of healing ointment— that’s the good stuff, so save it for your category threes. Lucrative loot, from those toads. A spool of bark-thread hair from one of the yowies. The big red thing didn’t cough up anything too special, sadly.”

“We’ll make sure everything is tallied up,” Cotsworth said. “I understand you’ve got a preliminary arrangement with the International Committee about the harvest results.”

“It won’t be finalised until I tell the yanks and the Chinese to get on their bikes,” Jason said.

“You don’t anticipate being tempted away?” Cotsworth asked.

“I don't see what they have to offer that I'm not already getting from the International Committee. Sure, they could offer me more of it, but if I wanted more, I would have negotiated harder. Maybe they have some big secrets they could bring me in on, but that doesn't sit well with me. At the end of the day, the job is to protect people from monsters and that means all the people. We have a lot to offer, and the rising tide should raise all ships. From what I've heard, that isn't the way the US and the Chinese will want to go.”

“I won’t lie, that’s exactly what a lot of us wanted to hear,” Cotsworth said.





By the time the plane returned Jason and Farrah to Sydney, it was late in the evening. Erika had refused the ride home offered by the Network in favour of a hastily arranged induction briefing on magic. She had a lot of questions.

Jason portalled them back to Casselton Beach, with a ten-minute mid-way pause on the secluded beach he had been using as a discreet stopover point.

“Maybe you should have dropped us closer to the chip shop,” Erika said.

“I’m trying not to be too blatant about magic,” Jason said. “Anymore.”

After returning to the houseboat, he set up a video call with the Network headquarters in Sydney.

“Gladys,” he greeted. “I’m sorry our meeting today got put off.”

“Getting interrupted by alien invasions from another dimension is something you get used to around here,” Gladys said.

They spoke for a while about Jason’s grandmother and her ongoing treatment, which was going well.

“I still wouldn’t go dropping any bombs about magic being real quite yet,” Gladys advised. “With her advanced stage of Alzheimer’s, her grasp of reality was fragmentary at best. Give her time to adjust before letting her know that everything she knows about actual reality is wrong.”

“Thank you for taking such good care with her treatment.”

“Thank you for saving at least some of our people. I knew that Miranda was a sea skank, but I didn’t think she was bad enough to murder our own. Keith wasn’t a bad young lad, and he didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

“Any trace of her yet?”

“No, it’s like she dropped off the face of the Earth. Anna said the Lyon branch is missing a portal user and we haven’t caught that Sebastian guy’s scent either. Best estimate is that they either have or still are portal-hopping to whoever is behind it all.”

“Any movement on figuring out who that is?”

“Still just postulation at this point,” Gladys said. “Barbou sacrificed EOA and Network personnel. It could be some faction in either organisation, the Cabal or some smaller group looking to make a big play. Don’t anticipate learning more until they make their next move.”

“I really don’t like that Barbou got away,” Jason said. “I’m worried enough about Farrah without having the guy who tortured her still out there somewhere.”

“She’s the reason you wanted to meet with me, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“How is she doing?”

“To all appearances, like nothing happened,” Jason said. “That just worries me all the more. As much as she might brush it off, you don't go through something like that—for weeks—without it leaving an impact. I'm worried she's burying a psychological cancer that won't show itself until it metastasises.”

“Well,” Gladys said, “the first thing you need to do is put away your assumptions. Culture plays a huge role in our psychological makeup and she’s from an entirely different world. We also don’t know how much having magic affects the way we process trauma. The short-term effects seem positive, but the long-term implications remain a mystery because we don’t have the research base yet. It could be that our minds just handle it better, or we may pay for those short-term protections down the road.”

“So, you’re saying no one knows and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I’m saying don’t push her to respond the way you think she should. Listen to what she tells you. Watch for what she shows you. Be there for her if and when she needs you. And don’t underestimate the power of shared experiences. You went through some stuff yourself, while you were on the other side, right?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me when you’re running around like an angry thorn bush,” she said. “Your friend isn’t the only one in need of recovery. My recommendation is for you both to take things easy for a good long while. Springtime is coming to that nice little town of yours. Enjoy it.”

He didn’t respond, his mind churning over.

“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear,” Gladys said. “You want to be active and do something for your friend. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is step back and not make things worse.”





Lance Houseman entered the hotel room in Sydney where his assistant, Franklin, waited. Lance was a broad-shouldered man whose silver rank made him look thirty, while his true age was almost double that. Franklin was a slender iron-rank black man holding a computer tablet. Both wore impeccable suits.

“Room’s clean, sir,” Franklin said. “The locals didn’t try anything, magical or otherwise.”

“They’d be stupid if they did,” Lance said. “You’ve gone over the materials?”

“Yes, sir,” Franklin said.

“Then let’s take a seat and go over them. Did anything happen while we were in the air?”

“Asano worked with the tactical team of another branch. This time, he brought the woman he liberated with him.”

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