Everyone has a bottom line.

  It had been a busy couple of days for the Heroes Jones. They had spent all their free time systematically dismantling those five weapon instances plus several others along South Access. TJ was now nearly level six. He'd been jumped from level two to nearly level five by the event dungeon and its rewards. After that, it had been a slow crawl of daily experience rewards from his classes, small instances approved by the curriculum, and now, after two days of following Brom into danger, he'd been rewarded for it. His nephew's improvement had been well worth the Dewey Decimal Hell they'd both gone through.

  Brom was currently in the garage, staring at the five weapons. Unlike TJ, who had only had bows drop as rewards, Brom's haul was a mismatched bunch of odds and ends. He figured that since TJ was taking the afternoon to work on his own things, Brom would take the opportunity to try and feed these weapons to the Grip and see if the theory held. That way, if there were any weird side effects from dismantling the magic, they wouldn't affect his nephew.

  Peace couldn't last, though.

  Brom had just selected the first weapon, an uncommon silver dagger that dealt an additional point of cold damage, and was psyching himself up to try and shove it through his hand when he heard a furious shout from his driveway.

  "Jason Maxwell Jones Junior, you get your ass out here now!"

  Poking his head out of the garage, Brom spotted his red-faced elder brother striding up the gravel, his irritation etched in every line of his body. Some of it was warranted, he had just spent forty minutes walking up the broken road through beast territory. More if he'd actually been attacked, but his fancy leather jacket looked too clean for that. TJ had clearly been up to his elbows in something, either homework or the chores Brom had assigned him in exchange for staying in the house. His bangs were pinned back out of his face, white tank top showcasing the muscle he'd started putting on.

  "Dad? Is this about the thing at school? I can explain-" The teenager had trotted down the porch, walking out to meet his father with lifted hands and a deferential posture that suggested this was not the first time he'd had to cool his father down. He never got to finish what he was saying, though.

  JJ's hand came up and cracked across TJ's face, forceful enough that the teen's head didn't just turn sideways, but his torso did. He crumpled in and backwards, hands going up as a few beads of crimson flecked the white of the tank top.

  "You're skipping school now?! Hiding from me?! What the fuck are you doing? Do you have any idea what I've been going through?! You made me look like an idiot who can't even control his own kid!"

  The knife slipped from Brom's grip, body snapping taut, the Grip vibrating oddly. Storm-grey eyes narrowed, something white-hot and livid beating fists against his sternum. JJ had grabbed his son's wrist, and TJ had shoved him back, blood running down his chin from a split lip, reopening the distance. The teen was clearly shocked, clearly afraid, and clearly taking steps to prevent a follow-up he seemed to expect.

  Heartbeat hammering in his ears, blood pressure so high the world had gone soundless, Brom's first step out of that garage was heavy and deliberate. Catching the movement, both of the others turned to look at him, their expressions vastly differing. JJ's face twisted into a vicious snarl while TJ rightly recognized the oncoming danger and pivoted to intercept it. Hands pressed against Brom's chest, his words fast and rapid.

  "Uncle B, it's okay! That didn't even hurt, I just caught my lip on my tooth. It's not that bad. He didn't mean it." TJ's voice shook, his eyes pleading. They both knew JJ had meant it, maybe not the part where TJ was bleeding, but the slap wasn't an accident. The teenager's gaze dropped. "You can't hit him. You'll kill him."

  It was the raw and naked truth. Brom stopped moving, grey eyes flicking down to his desperate nephew and then back to his disgusting brother. "...is this the first time?" Nausea burned in his gut. Had he been telling his nephew not to hate his father when JJ had been doing this to him? Had he been saying shit like 'your father loves you' when it was fairly clear now Jason Jones loved the idea of his son and not his son in actuality. He liked being a parent, it was on his perfect life checklist. JJ had never actually done any parenting in his life.

  TJ looked back up at Brom, a subtle tremor starting in the teen that was only growing stronger. He'd been through too much lately, and the bill was coming due. "It's the last time." His voice was rough and soft, leaning against his uncle and accepting the safety he was being offered.

  "Back the fuck off, Brom. This is between Junior and I." JJ advanced, every step angry, reaching out to take hold of TJ.

  Brom neatly moved his nephew behind him and swatted JJ's hand away, trying his best to be gentle. To not make an 'attack'. The result was still like getting your hand smacked with a skillet, leaving the eldest of the Jones brothers shaking his aching hand.

  "Get in the house, TJ. Just get inside and stay there. Feed the cats. Your dad and I are going have a conversation, man to pile of shit." He gestured between them, making sure he indicated who was who despite it being fairly obvious.

  There was a noise of protest, but at the end of the day, this wasn't a fight TJ could win. Despite recent gains both in class levels and in physical condition, he flat out lacked the mass of both the elder Joneses. JJ had recently put all that effort into getting back in peak shape for his high school reunion, trying to recapture the golden form of his youth. Coupled with his Fighter class, he had managed to put back on a significant amount of heavy muscle. Brom was, well, Brom. TJ was an Archer and, Epic or not, the recent Instances had taught him that he was extremely weak in close quarters. So he ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Brom moved, cutting JJ off when the other went to follow him, one iron-wrapped arm extending outward as a clear barrier. "You're not fucking following him. This is my property, JJ. My house. There's no safe zone here. Your son was right. If I hit you, you're fucking dead. I don't care how much health you think you have, how much Body stat you think might help you. I don't care what kind of gear you've got that you think will resist it. If I punch you, our ancestors are going to feel it."

  JJ was breathing hard and angry, stepping back and evaluating Brom. This baby brother he'd hated from the minute he'd seen the wrinkled newborn in their mother's arms. The one who'd been an easy mark, too stupid to avoid the traps. Easy to pin blame on. Too slow to catch onto schemes until it was too late. But for all that JJ had schemed against his brother, Brom always seemed to find some niche. Some space. He always made something of his own that JJ couldn't ruin or take away, no matter how hard he tried. They had always been rivals, and JJ had always been the winner.

  But that was then. Before.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Brom could see it now. His brother was shorter, balding, and no longer the boogeyman. He was shaking in fury, and as for his muscle, sadly most of it was for show. He was big for the look of it, heavy and not athletic. Say what you would about the System, it had built Brom with functional violence in mind. It had built him to survive in this new version of the world. One where JJ hadn't quite caught up to the rules. It wasn't about how nice your house was or what cars you owned. It wasn't about what your career was or how much money you had in the bank. It wasn't about who you knew and what they could do for you. It wasn't about the wife, the kids, and showing your face at the right parties.

  It was about dungeons where you ended up covered in rotten zombie. Instances where you ripped apart mutated sunflowers. Bosses that smelled of rust and rotten oil. It was about your stats. Your equipment. Your level. And in this world Barbarian Lv. 8 meant a hell of a lot more than Fighter Lv. 4.

  JJ drew a sword, and a shield materialized around his arm. It crackled, electricity flickering across its surface. "Go ahead. Go right fucking ahead, Brom! Has punching me ever worked out for you? Hasn't, has it?" He smiled sardonically. "You think you're tough shit because you cleared that Event Dungeon? Because you can take a beating? Newsflash, Brom, you've always been able to take a beating. But once the world settles back into rhythm, you'll see. You're the same waste of fucking skin you've always been. And I'll be goddamned if I let my son end up the family's second biggest disappointme-"

  Brom's hand shot out. Not a punch but a grab. His iron-suited fingers stabbed into JJ's shield with a scream of metal on metal violence, and he pulled the other toward him. The Grip seemed to sing almost. Barbs of iron shot off it, creeping like it was alive and ripping off chunks of the shield, like bites from tiny jaws.

  JJ screamed, swinging with his sword that Brom caught in his free hand, the blade shattering like confetti the moment Brom clenched his fingers. With another frantic motion, the elder brother yanked himself free, the leather straps of the shield popping off as the metal fasteners were consumed.

  "...what the fuck is that?" JJ's voice was low, rough with fear, watching as Brom's gauntlet writhed around the remains of his shield.

  [Consumption Successful!]

  [ Your Grip of Adamant Will (Legendary) has consumed a Steel Shield of Shocks (Uncommon)! Processing gains! (Note: Processing may take some time!)]

  [Consumption Failed!]

  [Your Grip of Adamant Will (Legendary) has failed to consume a Basic Arming Sword (Common)! Item's quality was too low, please consume items of at least Uncommon quality or better!]

  [Quest Update: The Sea God's Request.]

  Empower the Will of the Adamant. 1/3

  The notifications flashed past so quickly they almost gave Brom a headache. For a moment, he was quiet, and then he looked back at JJ. "These?" He spread his hands, the Grip moving like his own skin, the runes glinting slightly in the light. "You had your weapons, and I have mine." Then Brom dropped his hands again, looking at his older brother. "But I'm not going to hit you. TJ asked me not to, and this is about him. What he wants. What he needs."

  "You think you know what he needs? You? I'm his father. For sixteen years, I've watched him grow. I kept a roof over his head, food in his belly, and-"

  "Fear in his heart?" He gestured toward the house, the Grip recalled, but still flashing occasionally, roiling just under his skin. "Let's be real, JJ, this isn't about your son. It's about you. If this didn't make you look bad, you wouldn't be here. I know you think I never knew what you were doing, but I'm not stupid, Jason. I knew you never wanted anything to do with the shop. It was grubby, grimy, and greasy. Too below you to do any of that work. Luckily for you, you were the sports star and that made Dad proud enough he let you weasel out of it. He let you enroll in those summer programs, the camps, let you stay 'too busy'. Mason... now, little brother was genuinely too fucking smart for you. Too fucking smart for all of us. Our parents never tried to teach him the business because that would have been the wrong thing to do. They clocked his success when he went all the way to the State Spelling Bee in second grade."

  JJ grimaced, shaking his head. "Are you still upset they wouldn't let you go to that music camp thing?"

  Brom choked out a laugh. "You know, I'd forgotten all about that until just now. You fucked that up for me too, rat bastard. But no. I'm not mad about that. I'm not mad about you breaking the guitar Mom got me for Christmas, or for telling my piano teacher I called her ' the Old Hag' when she wasn't looking. This isn't fucking about me, Jason. And that's the difference. Because I can have things in my life that revolve around other people. I can give up the fucking spotlight and let other people shine, which is really something because even your blind ass knows I'm something special if you give me a stage. You? You have a problem, Jason. A problem where it always has to be about the least interesting person in the room. You."

  He looked at his elder brother, really looked. Looked at a man who was outwardly strong and inwardly rotten, like a magnificent dead tree. Brom's grey eyes remained hard, but somewhere in them, pity lurked. "You made it all the way to college, and you never made it off the bench. You got a business degree, and you always worked for someone else. You've destroyed every woman in your life because they were never in your heart, they were just trophies to your ego. Let's face it, Jason, you're not a has-been, you're a never-was."

  HP: 799/800

  JJ's fist slammed into Brom with all the efficiency of a child's toy. There might as well have been a little squeaky sound to go with it. Another blow followed. Another. A fourth. Brom raised a single fist in response, just holding it there, never actually moving to strike.

  - Unyielding Stance Activated!

  HP: 798/800

  HP: 797/800

  HP: 796/800

  The elder Jones worked Brom like a man worked a heavy bag, trying to move Brom. No matter how hard JJ hit, no matter what he tried. His younger brother just stood there, absorbing it all. It was like punching a rock. Punching a brick wall. There was blood on Brom's grey shirt, but none of it was his, it all came from JJ's split knuckles.

  HP: 780/800

  HP: 779/800

  HP: 778/800

  HP: 777/800

  A sudden, soft, 'fwip' that went through the air, like an angry bee, was the only warning. Then JJ screamed, as his knee exploded like a ripe fruit. He crumpled, his hands clenching around the limb, the joint holding together by little threads of gristle and skin. On the sagging, creaky roof of the porch, a kneeling TJ lowered his bow and looked down with a cool gaze.

  "I told you, that was the last time he was going to hit me."